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The room was as bare as his own had been, but quite honestly, Petrel didn't give a shit about that. It was an IP interrogation room, they all looked the same. No, what Petrel gave a shit about was the fact that Proton a) had the creepiest fucking look on his face that he'd ever seen, b) was laughing hysterically as though he recently had ingested hyper potion, and c) was, in fact, handcuffed to his chair. He was especially thankful for that last one, as he highly doubted it would have been safe for even him to approach Proton, otherwise.

"Pro?" he called over the green executive's laughter. "Care to let me in the joke?" Carefully, he approached, taking even, measured steps. Proton's eyes flickered over to him, and and it seemed he did his best to stifle his own laughter, quieting into an off-and-on stream of giggles. Petrel sighed and kneeled in front of him, grabbing him by the chin to make sure they maintained eye contact. "Tell me what's wrong, sweetheart." Proton simply shook his head and his laughter began to return full-force; Petrel strengthened his grip, however, and forced him to face him. "Proton, I swear to Mew, if you don't tell me now..."

"I-i-it was her," Proton choked out, "it w-was her, s-she's... she's... Aha... ahahaha... Th-that's the reason, y'know... Th-that's the reason they all l-l-looked like that, 'cause s-sh-she's..."

"I know," Petrel whispered, "I understand. I saw her. Try not to think about it, alright? Calm down, now... deep breaths... there you go. Now, let's take a look at that leg of yours..." He released Proton from his grip and turned his attention to the cast around the greenette's leg, frowning slightly as he looked it over. "Ugh... such a shoddy job... Assholes. I should have been the one doing this for you, this is a fucking disgrace..."

"I thought so, too," Proton agreed, slumping slightly. "Everything just had to go wrong, today, didn't it?"

"You two lovebirds done?" Alex cut in. "Look, babe, you've seen his leg, you've seen him, now it's time for your part of the bargain." He motioned to the other chair and Petrel and Proton frowned in unison.

"Hold on," the shorter executive said, "don't tell me you bargained just to come check up on me..."

"You needed it. Can we discuss the morality later? Now's really not the time." Proton scowled at him as he slumped down into the chair, waiting patiently as Alex cuffed his hands behind him. "Really, now? Really? Him I get, he's unstable.

"Wha-?! The hell I am, bastard!"

"Both of you, be quiet," Alex growled. "I didn't allow both of you to be in the same damn room so you could talk over me."

"Hate to break it to you, dear, but I never agreed to answer any of your Mewdamned questions." Proton's scowl deepened.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what did you call him?" he growled. "Who the hell is this bitch, Petrel?!"

"Shut up!" Alex finally snapped. His gaze focused on Petrel, and he leaned over him threateningly. "You'll answer all of my questions, Lambda dearest, whether you want to or not." Petrel laughed.

"Are you shitting me?" he asked, highly amused. "No, seriously, are you shitting me. You went through the exact same training I did when we were kids, Alex. There's absolutely nothing you can do to me to make me talk."

"Alex? As in, your dead ex Alex?" Proton stared for a moment before shaking his head. "What?"

"I never said he was dead," Petrel pointed out, "just... gone."

"I said shut. Up." Petrel felt his expression slacken as he heard the metallic click next to his head, and if that wasn't enough to tell him there was a gun pointed at his head, Proton's sudden snarl and lunge against his restraints were a nice tip-off as well. Obediently, he kept his mouth shut tight, and he stared emotionless straight ahead, avoiding Alex's cruel smirk. "Better. You finally seem to understand the position you're in. Now, I'm going to give you one more chance, babe: are we doing this easy way...?" The cold metal was now pressed to his temple; he didn't even blink. "...Or the hard way?"

"Do whatever you want," the purple executive murmured in reply, "not like the League would allow you to do more than yell in our faces, anyways. Besides, you wouldn't kill me. You need me alive." Alex let out a "tch", and Petrel allowed a faint smile to grace his lips. "That's what I thought."

"You're naïve to think I'd come unprepared," the brunette sneered.

"Whatever you have up your sleeves, to me it'll be less than the bite of an ant." Alex paused, and Petrel chanced a glance up at his face. His smirk had broadened, a calculating look in his eyes, and to be honest, the purple executive didn't like it, one bit.

"Well, then," the traitor said quietly, "we'll just have to see what New Guy thinks about that, hmm?" He pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt and pressed the transmit button. "Bring it in, please." Not a moment later, the door opened, and one of the guards from earlier wheeled in a cart, much like one of the ones Petrel kept around in his office. Three needles rested on top of it, and Alex thanked the guard before wheeling it over to Proton, himself.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" he snarled. "I swear, if you put one hand near me I'll fuckin' bite it off!"

"He's a little more violent than you usually go for," Alex mused, mostly ignoring his outburst. "I think we can fix that, though." He grabbed one of the needles and held it up, peering at the liquid for a minute before turning to show it to Petrel. "I think you know what this is, Lambda dearest. Tubocurarine- why don't you tell your little boyfriend what it does, hmm?" Petrel's eyes narrowed into a glare, and he couldn't help but jerk against his handcuffs, as well. This must have been what Proton felt on a regular basis, he thought- this rage beginning to boil in his stomach, the seeds of sadism being sown in his mind; how dearly he wished to shove Alex into one of the chairs, himself, and show him exactly what that chemical did, and if he could get his hands on the right combination, exactly how much he could make it hurt. Instead, he found himself submitting to the brunette's order, and he was downright disgusted with himself.

"Tubocurarine, a skeletal muscle relaxant," he heard himself recite, "most commonly used in anesthesia for medical purposes, it causes minor paralyzation in the muscles and lungs. Recipients have likened it to the sensation of slowly drowning."

"Very good!" Alex praised. He grabbed Proton's arm and ripped the sleeve off of his jumpsuit, causing the executive to struggle fiercely, but the traitor was having none of it; his grip simply tightened, and he stuck the needle into Proton's bicep, injecting the chemical into him. Proton hissed and flailed even more, though Alex only took a step back to observe. Petrel watched as Proton continued to struggle, slowing and slowing until, finally, he was still, breathing heavily. "Now, this next one should be fun, it's-"

"Hold on," Petrel quickly cut him off, "I don't know what the hell kind of interrogation you're pulling, here, but you're not going to get anything if you don't ask any questions." He winced inwardly as his ex turned to him, his smirk broadening.

"You're absolutely right," he purred, "how silly of me. Let's start with something easy, then. Name and rank?"

"Petrel Orpheon, Executive, Medical and Science departments."

"And him?"

"Proton, Executive, Security and Engineering derpartments." Alex pursed his lips.

"What, he doesn't have a last name?"

"Never knew. Never needed to. In our line of work, names are unimportant. You know that."

"Mm. Fine, I'll let that one slide. What were you doing in Goldenrod, today?" Petrel hesitated when Proton glared at him. "You have three seconds, or he gets the next needle. Three... two..."

"We were just going to jack some cash and supplies. That's all. With the downfall of the Kanto branch, we're transitioning into self-sufficiency, but we needed a jump-start. It was supposed to be easy- in, out, back home in time for dinner."

"Where's the base, then?" He didn't need Proton's glare to know to keep his mouth shut, and he unfocused his gaze, letting Alex know that, too. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... I did warn you, Lambda. Care to tell him what this one does? I bet you can guess what it is- this is your favorite drug cocktail, after all."

Petrel opened his mouth, hesitating, and stole a glance at Proton. The poor man, he thought. The poor, poor man. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. "...Quinuclidinyl benzilate. Developed as a military-grade chemical that causes a variety of symptoms, including mydriasis, cottonmouth, increased and decreased heart rate, akathisia, ataxia, and hallucinations. In conjunction with tubocurarine, it can also cause amplified power of pain receptors." He squeezed his eyes shut when Alex jammed the second needle into Proton's arm. This was his fault. This was all his fault. He never should have asked to see Proton, he never should have been so honest when Alex had been inquiring about their relationship. The traitor was right- he was too naïve. Just as it had before, his attachments were slowly but surely leading him step by step to the guillotine, and with each one he dragged Proton along with him for the ride.

The effects on his coutnerpart were, more or less, immediate- it took days for the chemical to run its complete course, and most of the symptoms wouldn't set in for the next few hours, but the most immediate and most noticeable was the intense dilation of those piercing green eyes. Proton whimpered and shut his own eyes tightly, trying to block out the light that was now most likely physically painful to him.

"How about something a little easier to get us back on track?" Alex suggested. "Why don't you go ahead and tell me just how many Team Rocket projects you've screwed over since I left?" Petrel had been readying a scathing remark, but that died in his throat, and he found his eyes widening. He stammered slightly, and Alex snickered at that. "Oh, quit with that goody-two-shoes Rocket act, Lambda. I don't think anyone in this room is buying it."

"Joke's on you," Proton managed to grunt out, "Petrel's the best motherfuckin' Rocket in the team, he'd never do anything to-"

"Three." Alex cast an amused gaze to Proton, who seemed rather taken aback by that statement.

"He puts too much faith in you," the traitor said slyly. Petrel lowered his head.

"I know," he whispered, "I told him that, too. Way too much faith... way too much..."

"Stop fuckin' with me," Proton growled. "Fuckin' stop. Petrel would never do anythin' to jeopardize the Team, he fuckin' lives by the handbook. You're a motherfuckin' liar, Alex!"

"He said it, not me," Alex disagreed. "Go on, babe. Tell him. Tell him what a good little traitor you are."

"I'm not a traitor!" Petrel denied. "I slowed up some projects, but I'm not a traitor, I'm a loyal-!"

"If you're not a traitor, explain these." The traitor drew something from within his blazer and tossed it to the table, allowing for Petrel to get a good, long look at what he'd hoped would never come back to bite him in the ass. Everything bad really was happening today, it seemed. "Letters! From you to the agent in charge, here- I think you may have expected it was me, but I didn't go and wear my heart on my sleeve like you did. About three years ago you were attempting to bargain for your own freedom by offering up information about the Team."

"Petrel, what the hell's he talking about?!" Petrel closed his eyes, blocking both of them out. It wasn't worth it. Proton would never believe Alex, as long as he didn't say anything to further incriminate himself.

"After some minor information was exchanged to prove your reliability, correspondence began to establish a place and time for us to 'arrest' you and bring you in for questioning, where you would spill your heart out to us and in return, get five years for something completely minor and have any and all dealings with Team Rocket wiped from your records. I was planning on getting you out on good behavior and letting you move back in with me-"

"Petrel, tell me he's lying. He's lying, isn't he? Those are fake. Those have to be fake."

"-but something happened, and all of a sudden we stopped getting your letters. I wondered what had happened, but I think I see, now. How long will this one last before you toss him aside, hm? Hopefully not longer than me- I was your friend for years before you started fucking me, after all. If some street rattata outlasts me, then..."

"Petrel." The desperation invading Proton's voice hurt. It hurt bad. He didn't want to do this, right now. He didn't want to do this, ever. He thought it had been behind him. Each and every moment h'ed spent in Proton's presence, he thought he'd left it behind him- hell, Archer had even taken it easy on him during his punishment all those months ago in the U, he'd been absolutely convinced it was over. "Petrel, please. Please, tell me he's lying." He opened his eyes to meet Proton's dilated, unfocused gaze.

"Go on," Alex hissed, "tell him."

"...It's true, Pro. It's all true." He swallowed, hard, and continued, voice shaking terribly. "The first project- the Mewtwo Project- I screwed with the safety procedures in the computer, weakened the response, let him get away. The second project- my own project. I could have completed the serum years ago. I could have finished it and moved on. The th-third project..." His voice broke slightly. "The third project... your project... Archer was close to getting the information you needed from your father. I had a hunch you would kill him if I could get you in there, and when you ran into a dead-end, it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up... Pro..." He wasn't crying. He wasn't crying. He wasn't crying. "Pro, I am so, so sorry..."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Alex mocked. "It looks like you've done far more damage to this poor sap than I ever could. I think I'll take my lunch break and give it some time to sink in- and let those chemicals work their magic on your little toy, there. Slim, keep an eye on them. I'll be back in a couple hours."

"You know I have to tell Archer when we get back," Proton mumured.

"He knows," Petrel replied, "he already knows. He already took care of my punishment. You almost died because of it." Proton opened one eye and scowled at him before quickly shutting it.

"How many times have you lied to me?"

"Pro-"

"How many?" Petrel sighed.

"I wasn't lying about us, if that's what you're asking."

"I don't even know what that's suppose mean, now. From what that fuckin' traitor was saying, it sounds like you're just havin' some fun."

"That's not true, and you know it."

"Oh? Then tell me, when was the last time you actually called it a relationship? 'Cause as far as I've heard, you've just been saying we're sleeping together. Those don't mean the same thing, P. We've never even had an actual date."

"That can change. We can go out for dinner in Kanto, or something- whatever you want. I promise."

"Like that means anything, now." Petrel sighed heavily.

"Look," he said, "I've done things I'm not proud of, and yes, I was going to turncoat and go the IP. But then you came along, and... well, y'know, things changed. You heard him, yourself, I stopped sending letters."

"You screwed over my research."

"It was temporary. You got the files from Silph- you even used them to finish that darkball you were working on."

"You're still an ass..." Proton's speech was starting to slur, and he was beginning to mumble. The chemicals were really starting to set in. Petrel frowned. He needed to get his sweetheart out of there, before Alex came back and decided he was enough of a jealous bitch to stick him with the third needle- undoubtedly filled with potassium chloride, which, in combination with the previous two chemicals, would stop Proton's heart entirely. He wasn't about to let that happen.

"Slim," he said, and the dark-ghost perked up and scampered over to him, grinning and baring its tiny, sharp teeth. "Hey, buddy. Do me a favor and go get our stuff, then come back and let us up, okay?" The sableye paused and tilted its head, thinking the order over- Alex had only told him to watch them, not to keep them there. With a nod, he scampered off and out the door. Petrel couldn't help but grin, himself. "Little rascal and his shenanigans. I'm so glad he's got and impish nature."

"Your mom has an impish nature...," Proton mumbled. Petrel rolled his eyes.

Slim returned maybe about five to ten minutes later, dragging with him a bag full of stuff, which it dropped next to Petrel's chair before slicing neatly through his handcuffs. Petrel rubbed his wrists and stood, directing the dark-ghost to do the same for Proton, and while Slim set on that, he busied himself with changing back into his uniform and letting Monoxide out.

This would prove to be interesting.

"Where are they?" Archer grumbled as he peered out of his window and out onto the grounds. "They should have been back, by now..."

"I wouldn't worry," Ariana said from her perch on her brother's desk. She was busy giving herself a manicure, and though Archer generally hated the smell of everything she used to do it, he never really bothered her about it. "Knowing them, they probably stopped to get lunch and forgot they had a deadline. Or, even better, they may have stopped in Ilex to satisfy their libidos. It must be tough, being in such a new relationship and having to take care of the Boss's kid at the same time."

"If they seriously stopped to fuck each other during work hours, I'm going to be pissed," Archer grumbled. He turned away from the window to go pull his rolley chair over by his houndoom, Coyote, and proceeded to give the dark-type much affection in the form of tummy rubs and ear scratches. "This would be the fifth time. They need to keep it together, we have a mission."

"Oh, cut them some slack," Ariana laughed. "Especially Proton. You've been on his ass since day one, all because he knew Giovanni personally."

"No, because he was being an ungrateful sunovabitch," the bluenette 'corrected'. "Don't give me that look, Ariana. That's all it was." Ariana only shook her head in reply, eyes dancing in mirth. The twins were silent for a few minutes then, simply enjoying each other's company, when all of a sudden the door opened and one very tired-looking Petrel came in with Monoxide trailing behind him and one very out of it Proton slung over his shoulder.

"I hate you forever," the purple executive announced. "Mission report: we got arrested, Proton got chem torture, my ex is a traitorous piece of shit, and here's the cash and junk you wanted." So saying, he plopped a bag of stuff on the desk next to Ariana. The twin executives stared at it silently for a moment before glancing up at Petrel. Petrel stared right back, unblinking.

"Pettreeeelll," Proton whined, "Pettrreeelll, Slenderman's still following ussss..."

"...The hell happened to him?" Archer asked at last.

"I told you," Petrel grumbled, "he got chem torture. Tubocurarine and quinuclidinyl benzilate. He's going to be out of it for the next couple days, not to mention he broke his leg pretty bad. I'm going to take time off to make sure he recovers okay, so please don't slate either of us for anything, alright? I'm going to head back to our apartment, now."

"Peettreeellll, can we go to the moooooon?"

"We're going right now, sweetheart." Petrel shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry for the delay. I'll see you guys in a few days." Without another word (well, Proton was still whining and slurring insults at the taller executive), Petrel turned on his heel and left.

"I understood very little of what just happened," Archer said after a moment in which he and his sister stared silently at the door, "but, hey, they got us the money and the supplies, so as far as I'm concerned, we're golden."

"Just another day in the life of the Executives," Ariana snickered.

I'm sleepy. Also, Numb3rs. Yeah.