Saturday

Brenda growled. "He can be moved, right?"

Melanie pursed her lips. "I do believe so. The bullet was more tissue damage than anything. I think he's exhausted more than anything." Her couch was barely more than a loveseat. It definitely had not been made for someone Mewtwo's height.

"Then I'm moving him now. It's either that, or I'll sleep on the floor."

She winced. "I did plan on having people over tomorrow, and would rather not have to explain all this after my shift. Could you get a ride?"

"I'll call Davis then. Can you tell...? Never mind. Help me up. The floor sucks."

"Tell?" Melanie prompted as she offered a hand.

"Fine. Can you tell if he's slept recently?" Brenda looked over at the slumbering pokemon. "He has insomnia a lot, and, well... He was trained for battle. Pokemon get worse then a bullet wound all the time. And he fainted."

"It's hard enough to tell on people you've been trained on for years," she said. "I would guess he hasn't. If he can't, then I'll prescribe sleeping pills."

"Whatever. Just wondered why he'd faint, is all. Where's your phone?"

"Kitchen counter."

Brenda stalked over, and shoved both hands into her jean pockets. She wasn't going to put a hole in Melanie's wall. "Right, right... What's Davis's number again?"

She finally dialed dispatch and growled a request for 'that fuckwit Davis's' number. Dispatch handed it over without question or comment.

"Please tell me I'm not on riot duty again, Johnson."

"No, we just need a ride. The doctor's sending us off to our place and-" Brenda winced at the growling hiss from the couch. "Mewtwo's awake. And cranky."

(Get away from me, human!)

"Shaddap, asshole!" Brenda cleared her throat. "Anyways. Want to give us a lift?"

"Human?" Melanie demanded in the other room. "We've met. While I was patching up Brenda, I might add, and there won't be any need for eye-glowiness. No psychic powers for at least two days."

"A lift?" Davis asked. "Lifting what where and when?"

"Taking me and psycho-boy over to my place. As soon as you can?"

"Same place as before?"

"Yeah. Well, skipping the riot." What time was it? And when was the last time she'd had coffee? Her head was starting to float.

"I'll be there in five. You break my car, you'll need to get two new ones."

"I'm not driving. Not until I've had coffee."

(Fine, Melanie, leave me alone! I can take care of myself perfectly fine!)

"Not driving my car at all, Johnson."

"Which is why you ended up collapsed from exhaustion in the middle of a riot, of course," Melanie said. "The bullet was the last straw. You've pushed psychic powers too hard without sleeping, which means you need rest."

"Mewtwo!" Brenda just about broke the phone when she slammed it down. "You will listen to the fucking doctor or so help me I'll break both your necks!"

(You be silent!)

"Do you WANT me to hurt you? 'Cause I can, fuckwit!" Brenda stomped back over to the couch. Melanie needed some support. "Now. Melanie. What do we do about his shoulder, his psychic powers, and his tendency to be a complete and utter moron?"

"Why can't I ever get the meek patients that take my every word as gospel?" she grumbled. "I have an eighteen-hour shift in half an hour. Mewtwo, rest. Full meals, at least eight hours of sleep per night, no psychic powers. If you can't sleep, I will prescribe drugs. Johnson, you are to tattle to me if there's a medical problem. You both can ignore personal drama for at least three days."

"Three days?" Brenda stared at Melanie. "Uhm, right. Three days." She'd give him her bed then. And yell at the delivery service that was a good two weeks late on delivery. It felt like a year ago that it'd been ordered, not a month. "I can do that. Can you?"

Mewtwo hissed again, but nodded.

"Good. If necessary... your mother has already called me, Brenda, I will get her involved." She didn't like ultimatums, but this was a special case.

"Sheryl called? How'd she know to do that?" Brenda looked at Mewtwo's shoulder, the undamaged one. "You know what? I don't care. Don't tell me. I think I'd freak if I knew."

"Professional courtesy, that's all."

"Right. This is the part where I stick my fingers in my ears and start singing." Brenda shook her head. "Davis should be here soon. She's giving us a ride. You got any coffee, Melanie?"

"Not enough to share. Bother your driver."

"Melanie, please?" Great, now she had a headache. And Mewtwo looked almost- amused. Fuck him, of course he'd be amused at her suffering. "Just a cup?"

"Eighteen hours," she said dangerously. "I was sleeping when you brought in your partner, whose physiology I have never studied, with a gunshot wound. Mine."

"Fine. I'll ask Davis to swing through a drive through then." Brenda sat down on the floor again. She had to brace one hand against the couch arm, right in front of Mewtwo's face. If it hadn't been undignified, he'd probably have snapped at her, she thought.

(I wouldn't. You'd taste bad anyways.)

"Three days," Melanie reminded the both of them.

"Hey, I'm behaving," Brenda protested. "He's the one that read my mind."

Mewtwo struggled to sit up, and managed to lever himself up with one elbow. (You were projecting,) he pointed out. (And what makes you think I'm going with you?)

"The bullet we dug out of your shoulder? Can you even change those bandages with your mind fried?" Brenda scowled.

"No psychic tricks until you're fully rested," Melanie said. "You're going with Brenda, or I'm calling Sheryl."

Mewtwo growled, but nodded. Given the choice between the lunatic human, or the human who dealt with lunatics... Well, he could deal with the lunatic.

"When's Davis going to get here?" Brenda asked.

"Not soon enough?" Melanie suggested under her breath.

"It shouldn't take her too long, right?" Brenda started rubbing at her leg. Damned thing. "Today's been a piece of shit. Right Mewtwo? You get shot, I get to work with the bitch."

(Somehow, that doesn't sound quite like the same levels of suffering,) Mewtwo said.

Melanie had never been so relieved to hear someone bang on her door. "None of my acquaintances would knock that loudly. I think that's your ride."

"Right. Come on Mewtwo. Could you get the door, Melanie?" Brenda grunted as she stood up, and then braced herself as Mewtwo used her to pull himself up. At least getting him to the door was easy. He could walk under his own power, though he was swaying a lot.

Melanie pulled the door open. "They're all yours," she told the cop on her front porch.

"Thanks," Davis replied.

"Mewtwo's in the back. I'm driving." Brenda ignored the disbelieving sound from her partner. Ex-partner. Whatever.

"Driving what? You're not driving my car," Davis said. "It's the passenger seat or your legs."

"Fine. I'll take passenger. But you, my fine friend," Brenda pointed her finger at Mewtwo. "You get the back, so you can stretch out. No sleeping until we get home."

Mewtwo lashed his tail, but nodded. (Very well.) Once he was in the back of the car and as comfortable as possible, he closed his eyes.

"No sleeping!"

(Meditation.)

"Davis! Make him stop!"

"Johnson, I'm driving you both back to your place. I'm not going to mediate squabbles."

"But he's going to fall asleep!" Brenda hunched down in the passenger seat. "Can you at least swing through a drive through? I need coffee."

"Can't you get coffee at your own place? Besides playing chauffeur, sitting in the passenger seat in your car, and the entire riot, I've had to explain the entire affair without incriminating Mewtwo."

"How'd you manage that? Never mind, I don't care... I need coffee!" She wasn't whining. Was she? Did it matter?

"Will you shut up and not call me for the rest of the day if I get you coffee?"

"It's a deal."

Sunday

Brenda cradled a mug of coffee in her hands. She could behave for three days. Mewtwo could behave for three days. Both statements were facts, easily proven. Heck, when she'd been younger and with less self control, she'd been a perfect little girl for nearly a year. She'd worn pink and everything. So yes, she could behave for three days. And Mewtwo, well, she didn't know his history but she bet it'd required more self control then wearing a pink dress would ever need. So he could behave for three days.

And she was brooding over two simple little statements that would get blown to kibbles and bits the moment he woke up and stumbled out of the bedroom and started talking at her. Yeah, the both of them could behave for three days. The problem was, behaving around each other for three days? Not possible. Not at all.

She was extremely possessive. She knew that. She didn't need Sheryl to point it out. And Mewtwo had issues with people who happened to be extremely possessive. It was a mark against her reasoning skills that it'd taken her three or so months to figure it out.

"I'm such an idiot," Brenda muttered. She reached down and stroked Rhonwen's horns. "I need to fix this." She didn't need a partner. But Mewtwo was an all right guy, for a psychic and a pokemon. Having him as an enemy, being a target for his hate… not fun.

There was only one person who'd been able to fix things this badly screwed up before. Brenda got up and stumbled over to the phone. She'd call Sheryl. Sheryl would tell her what to do.

The phone call took five minutes. Brenda finally hung up, because she couldn't think up good answers. She moved over to the couch and lied down.

She really needed to get a new couch, she decided, right before falling asleep.

Sunday

Mewtwo wasn't asleep. Despite his exhaustion, there was only so long he could ignore his shoulder's throbbing. Yes, he was a pokemon and yes, he was used to a great deal of discomfort, if not outright pain, but as he had only recently discovered, that meant nothing compared to a bullet wound. It hurt. It hurt a very great deal, in fact, and he would have willingly taken pain killers to deal with it.

Of course, there were no pain killers available. Melanie had not prescribed any, and he was not going to stoop so low as to ask the Detective for any.

Mewtwo stood up, and looked around the room. There was always the possibility that the Detective kept any medications somewhere in her bedroom. If not, well, looking around would certainly provide him with a distraction or two.

This was the second time he had been in her room, and the first time he hadn't noticed anything other then the blackout curtains on the two windows. They had been duct taped to the wall, he discovered now, making them impossible to open. He made a sound that was a cross between a growl and a sigh, and turned on the lights.

He blinked several times, not out of any disorientation or need to let his eyes adjust, but because whatever he had expected to see, this wasn't it.

The room was filled with clutter. He couldn't see any closet door, which explained the clothes piled on top of a desk, and more clothes flung on the floor. Presumably clean and dirty. There was a pile of blankets under the desk, covered in short black hairs. Rhonwen's bed, Mewtwo decided, and then looked down at Brenda's bed.

She had- and for some reason this made him want to smile- Zubatman sheets. He traced one cartoon figure with a finger, and then turned to stare at the books everywhere in the room. There had to be at least twenty piled beside the door, and there were a few others scattered around the room. The nearest two were A History of Orange Island Relations and some generic fantasy book about magic and quests. The Detective read these?

There was a sword hanging on one wall. It was the only half-way normal thing about the Detective's room, he decided.

Mewtwo shook his head and put the books down. Even if he looked for a hundred years, he doubted he'd be able to find anything as small as a pill bottle in all the mess. He would have better luck looking for Advil in the bathroom medicine cabinet.

Reduced to looking for Advil. Just what had he become?

Mewtwo walked out of the Detective's bedroom, just in time for someone to start pounding on the front door. He glanced towards it, then looked over as the Detective sat bolt upright on the couch, and then fell to the ground.

(Graceful,) was his only comment.

"Shut up." The Detective stood up, glared at him, and then walked over to the door. She yanked it open and snarled.

Then she paled, as much as she was able. "Uh. Leon. Sheryl. What are you doing here?"

"You must have lost your connection," Sheryl said. Her smile was blithe, Brenda's first warning. "You were just about to tell Leon and I how we could come help you when your land line lost the signal, right?"

Leon shouldered his way in past his wife and daughter. "Which of you put the hole in the wall?" he asked.

Brenda growled, and stepped back. "Right. Lost the connection," she muttered. "And I did." Her parents were here. Great. Why- oh yeah, she'd called them. Last time she made a decision over cold coffee. "Uh. It wasn't anything important."

"Bren, honey? I'm giving you an out. I won't give you another." Sheryl looked over the damage to the house. "Much better than anticipated. From what I've been hearing, I thought that the couch would be in shreds and splinters."

Brenda glanced over at Mewtwo, who was- damn him- leaning against a wall looking very amused at the situation. No help there, not that she'd expected any. "Why the hell would the couch be broke? Rhonwen doesn't chew on the furniture."

Leon folded his arms, and gave Sheryl and Look. "Hon, why don't you ask Mewtwo how his shoulder's doing. Brenda and I need to talk about riot situations and why it's a bad idea to park her car out in the open."

Brenda winced.

"Riot duty protocol? I'm out. Want to come along, Mewtwo?"

Mewtwo arched one eyebrow, and looked at the Detective. She looked sick. (I think that might be a good idea,) he said. (I'm not really interested in cop affairs any longer.)

"But..." Brenda's shoulders slumped. "Be sure to lock the door behind you."

"What about a long drive? A colleague lent me her pass for a forest reserve."

Mewtwo nodded, and walked over to Sheryl. (That sounds quite nice. Shall we?)

"I'll come pick you up in time for dinner," Sheryl said. "If you and Brenda are done talking about riot duty, I'll even take you out to dinner."

Leon smiled. "Alright, hon. Have a good time." He kissed Sheryl's cheek, and turned to Brenda. "Sit down, young lady."

Mewtwo hurried through the door, and to the Lance's car. (I'm not interested in hearing any of it,) he said, in case Sheryl was wondering.

"Neither am I," Sheryl said. "Cop talk isn't part of my career path."

(And it is no longer any business of mine.) Mewtwo folded himself into the passenger seat, and curled his tail up onto his lap. He eyed Sheryl, but when she didn't make any start at conversation, neither did he.

Sunday

Sheryl parked in a pretty clearing just off the road that wound through the reserve. She really would have to borrow that pass again, when she didn't have a necessary guest. Her career path had nothing to do with riot duty, but had everything to do with exploding (literally, in this case) partnerships.

"Brenda considers you her best friend."

Mewtwo's head whipped around so fast both his necks cracked. (WHAT?) he yelled. (But she- but- No she doesn't.)

He took a moment, and then growled. (She considers me on the same level as Rhonwen- a pet. Not a friend.)

Sheryl braced a hand against her ear after the first thought. It wouldn't help with the volume, of course, but it was an instinct.

"You don't know her as well as you think, then. She treats you like... family, really, but different. You're her partner."

(Well, you're obviously not around all the time. Perhaps, occasionally, she will be moved to treat me as a living, breathing, thinking creature, but otherwise? No.) Mewtwo growled, and got out of the car. (What do you want?)

"To attempt to knock sense through your thick skull, just like Leon's trying with Brenda. You're basing your opinion on what Brenda says, I'd guess. She's possessive, irritable, and bad-tempered. You've known that from the start," Sheryl said. "Something changed. You might not even know what happened, but there was a trigger somewhere."

(Oh? In the three months I've known her, she hasn't changed at all.) His eyes flashed blue, warning the human away.

"Precisely. So why are you playing dominos now?"

(What?) Any anger building inside of him simply drained away, and was replaced by confusion. (I don't understand.)

"Brenda hasn't changed," she repeated clearly. "You have."

Mewtwo looked away, and folded his arms. (I haven't.)

"You bought her a plant." Perhaps it wasn't the most elegant of arguments, but Sheryl wasn't on the clock. None of this was going to be written up as a case file.

Mewtwo decided that staring at Sheryl wasn't the best argument in the world. (She ended up in the hospital with three broken ribs and a concussion, not including the rest of her injuries, because I was overconfident and got knocked out. It was either that or a bottle of vodka.)

"The plant's still alive. Someone must have taken care of it, as her version of plant care was to pour coffee into the poor thing's pot."

(I did, until two weeks ago. Not even a houseplant will die after only two weeks of neglect.)

"You took care of the plant, as well as being a damn good cop and finding enough material to dismantle Team Rocket in a suitably public and therefore embarrassing fashion. Would you really have thought of that before you ended up working with my daughter?"

Evidently, she didn't know. Mewtwo decided to enlighten her. (I killed Giovanni. This past week I've been scouring the country for Rocket bases, destroying them. If any Rockets were caught by the police during those attacks, that was none of my doing.)

"That's not what I'm talking about. Thursday meetings, the ones that Brenda always complained to me about. 'That bitch' was stealing 'her partner,' but she'd add several more expletives and some creative gerunds."

Mewtwo arched one eyebrow. The Detective complained to Sheryl? He hadn't known that. His eyes darkened. Stealing. (Of course she was upset. One of her resources was being stolen,) he spat.

"Resources? She doesn't give a damn if someone borrows her computer or her files or her stapler. She does care about Rhonwen, but she trusts Rhonwen to take care of herself. People get irrational about those we really care about."

(She has a very strange way of showing she cares.) Except she didn't, really. Mewtwo shook his head. (She hated something that was important to me. Team Rocket- Davis and I were working to get rid of them, completely! And she thought some nothing town was more important then that?)

"It's not nothing to the people in that town, when one of their own is murdered. Knowing who and why helps with closure. Did you ever explain to Brenda what you and Davis were doing?"

(She knew very well what we were doing,) he snarled. (She just didn't care. It wasn't a murder, it wasn't a crime she involved herself it. If it wasn't important to her, then how could it be important to anyone else?)

"Did she know, or do you think she should have known?"

There really was no answer Mewtwo could come up with. He looked away, and considered the trees in front of him. However satisfying it would be to rip them apart, it wouldn't solve the problem. (Does the distinction really matter?)

"It's the same question that Leon's asking Bren, albeit with different pronouns, about partnership with you. Does the distinction matter now?"

He clenched his teeth hard enough to get a headache. (No. The fact remains that she- that- Damn it!) He swiped at the air with one paw, and growled, audibly and loudly.

"This is a cold reading, now, and I'll straighten it all out later. You feel that she's treating you as a pet, and that the two of you aren't true partners. She feels that you don't care to remain partners with her, and that you would prefer to work with someone else... like Davis."

(Perhaps I do,) he said, doing his best to ignore everything else.

"If Brenda thinks you would rather work with Davis... why would she bother to explain that you're her partner, and she likes having you around?"

(She never said anything like that.) It was time- past time- for Sheryl to be told everything. (She said I wasn't good for anything, that I'm an 'obsessive fuck up', that-) He couldn't continue. He couldn't reasonably continue without hurting someone. Belonged in the shadows, did he? Damn her.

"When did she say that?" Sheryl asked gently.

(During our argument. Two weeks ago.) When the murderer had been caught. When Davis had yelled at him for hacking.

"During an argument--that's not exactly where you should form your opinions. I've known Bren a long time, Mewtwo. Brenda... well, she thought you were going to leave. If you were going to leave her, it was going to because of her. Not because you were sick of her, not because you found something better, but because she made you angry."

He couldn't hold to his hatred of the Detective. Neither of them had exactly been in the best of moods- she'd been in a fight, he'd been in an argument- and she cared about the dead. He... didn't, or hadn't cared about the dead as much as he'd cared about Team Rocket. (It wasn't supposed to be like this,) he murmured, and then blinked. He hadn't meant to say that.

"No. It wasn't. I've not seen her so happy for years, and then I could barely get her to say two words in a row."

(I meant for me.)

"Fine. What was it supposed to be like, for you? You were supposed to be alone, going in blind, until Team Rocket struck back? They would have had every last police officer on their side, by law."

(I could have dealt with it. Then, when I partnered with Brenda...) He shook his head. (It wasn't supposed to last this long. I was only helping until she was better. That was it.)

"That's how she feels, now. The partnership ended, she's only there until you're better."

He snorted. (So what happens next?) he asked. (I can leave, no hard feelings? That's it?) He didn't want it to be it. Mew, but he didn't want this to just end.

"You can leave. She'll do her level best to pretend she's not upset at all, and I don't think anyone is going to believe her."

(Or I could stay.) Mewtwo closed his eyes, and very nearly laughed. (I think I would be bored if I went back to the mountains anyways.)

"Or you could stay, and the two of us can bring dinner back to Bren's place. She doesn't have enough food in that house to feed four, unless you only eat fruit. "

Mewtwo arched one eyebrow. (As long as it's never had a face, or will grow a face, it's fine. I'm not that strict a vegetarian. Butter, milk... but no eggs.) He made a face.

"No eggs, got it. I have Leon's credit card and a car that better not explode. What's for dinner?"

(What about... Chinese?) Mewtwo tilted his head. (There's enough dishes that I can avoid meat, and everyone else can be happy.)

Mewtwo glanced over at Sheryl as he got back into the car. (So. Any suggestions on how to survive my partnership with Brenda?)

"Set a few boundaries, as far as space goes. The both of you get territorial, you can afford your own space. Don't be afraid to call her on being too pushy." Sheryl started the car as she thought. "Most of all--ask for a little mediation before we start all this drama again, alright?"

(Are you volunteering?) Mewtwo asked, before tilting his head. (Wait- are you suggesting I should get an apartment?) He should have been upset. At the very least, he shouldn't have been amused. Mewtwo shook his head, and sighed. (Let's get the Chinese now.)

"Volunteering for mediation? Always. You and Brenda are much more interesting than whiny kids and their whinier parents."

End Notes

Continue on to chaper fifteen for any notes.