When it starts to rain, the steam floats off Aiden's skin in curls, like the wisps you get over a hot teacup.

"Not yet, Alexa," he says, when I ask him if he wants to go in. He stretches, and shakes out his hands. "It would be a waste to walk all the way back and end the day. I need to catch up to the rest of the team. And I still have PP left, I think?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure," I say. Steven tilts the umbrella over to my side. He's been on the phone since forever. "I would tell you, but I really don't want to talk to GLaDOS unless I have to. Are you going to be okay in the rain, though?"

"Yeah. It's just rain." He fluffs his hair, shaking off water drops, and turns back towards the grass.

"Of course he doesn't answer when I need him," Steven mutters and pockets his phone.

"Are you trying to call your dad?"

"Yes."

"What that woman said is bothering you, huh? You've been trying for two weeks now." I lean against his side and he wraps his arm loosely around my shoulders. I bring my left hand up to hold his. The umbrella shifts and a steady stream water drips onto his hand. He's not wearing his suit today. Only a tank top and basketball shorts. "You look super young like that, by the way. What happened to your suit?"

"I went to visit Wynne, since we were in Fortree anyway. She threw a vodka bottle at me."

"Wynne? Wynne Lytton? What is she doing in Fortree?"

Steven looks at me funny.

"She's the Gym Leader."

"What? But she had a Gardevoir when she fought you. Isn't she flying-type themed?"

"I think that Piece was Wally's. Wynne generally uses PENs."

"Her? Really?"

"Well, President Lytton makes PENs for a living. Of course his first-born and heir would use his products." He smiles. "Did you not know that?"

"I don't know a lot of things. Did you figure out what your dad was doing?"

"Alright. Reverting the topic. No, I didn't, besides Battle Tower. But I don't know how that could possibly align with Yin's and Yang's goals. It's just a place for trainers to gather and battle."

"Aiden, you okay?" I call out. I see a brown hand wave out of the tall grass. "Make sure not to push yourself too hard. Steven, doesn't your hospital need you? You've been traveling with me for a while."

"But I Fly back for the operations. And it's not like I'm the only doctor. The best sign of a successful business is if it can run smoothly when its owner is gone. And I like traveling with you." He stops, and then turns to look down at me. "Is that okay? Traveling with you? I can leave if you want."

I shrug.

"I dunno. I guess it makes me happy. But I don't really feel anything anymore. Unless I'm scared or sad, everything feels glazed over. Like a donut."

"Like a donut, huh?" he says, pulling out his phone with his free hand and tapping it a few times. "That sounds like depression."

"I'm not sad all the time, though."

"You don't need to be." He hands me his phone, still warm from being in his pocket. "I've been meaning to tell you. These are a list of anti-depressants. I would like you to take one."

"You're not my dad, Steven," I say, handing him back his phone. He doesn't take it.

"This is your doctor speaking, not your dad," he says evenly.

"You're not my doctor." My hand is still outstretched with his phone facing up on my palm. He pushes it to me and crouches so that our eyes are locked.

"Then this is someone who fiercely cares about you speaking," he states just as calmly. "I've watched you for almost a month now, Alexa. This will help. I promise."

His eyes are so bright. He has that expression on his face.

"I don't want to take it. I'm not depressed."

He accepts the phone I've been holding out to him.

"Alright."

"I'm not depressed," I repeat, unsure. He doesn't say anything but holds out his hand.

I don't know how many times I've completed this gesture since he started it. It feels like a compromise, and I always complete the motion, like I do now. His hand is warm. This time, I step closer and squish my face into his front. I feel his laugh and his hand on the back of my head. He smells like rain and cinnamon (still) and something similar to laundry detergent. I look up. He still as that expression, but he's smiling now, green shining through his narrowed eyes.

It feels like a compromise.

"What big pupils you have," he says, touching just under my eye with his thumb.

"That's the best compliment I have ever received. Ten out of ten."

"Oh, shush, you."

"No, eleven out of ten," I continue. "Seven out of five."

He's about to speak when his eyes flicker to the side.

"Oh, dear," he says, unhooking my arms.

"I don't have PP anymore," Aiden says, walking towards us and wiping the bright trail of blood from his mouth. "Whoops."

"It's alright. Overexerting yourself can be easily fixed with rest. Are you injured?"

"Nah, I'm good," Aiden replies. "I wanted to keep going until I evolved, but seems like I can't. Sucks. Briar took Capala training, right? She probably evolved by now."

"We can go training again tomorrow," I say. I take his hand, where the turtle swims in circles, and start swinging it. "And then you can evolve and Torrent might evolve soon and then only Skye will be left."

"Sounds like a plan," he grins.

"H-H-Hello."

It's a voice behind us. I know that voice.

"Stephan?" Steven says. "What are you doing here?"

He hasn't changed. His brown hair is neatly combed and he's in a green suit. He still has that puppy-dog look.

"Hey, Stephan!" I say, smiling. "I haven't seen you since Rustboro."

Stephan pulls out a gun.

Ah. And here I thought they were too much of cowards to do anything.

I have not heard that voice in my head in a long time.

"Hey there, little brother," Steven says, his voice smooth, "what's wrong?"

"Tell your Piece to lie o-on the ground," Stephan barks. I look at Aiden and he complies, lying face down in the dirt and soft grass. "Father gave you your orders, Steven. He e-even had her delivered with the letter-er in Dewford. But you didn't kill her, so now, I have to do it, like I've always done."

"You don't have to do this. Be rational."

"N-no, Steven. You've always been the irrational one. Do you remember what her brother did to our company?" He shakes his head. I feel a tremble move up the side of my arm but Steven squeezes my hand steadily. "So much hush money. So many people to be killed. He almost burned the name of Devon to the ground."

Burn him to the ground.

"And now he's dead, Stephan. So leave her alone."

"To do what? It was supposed to be a revenge killing in the beginning but she's actually a threat now. What if she beats the Piece Keepers with that PEN team? PALs won't be the trend-d anymore."

"You should start making PENs," I say.

"Shut up, you unnecessary bitch," he responds, smiling as nervously and as happily as that day in Rustboro, when he bought me an ice-cream sundae and tripped over his words in asking what his older brother had been up to.

"Stephan, if Father wanted you to kill her without any repercussions for yourself, why did he give you a gun that small? That can only hurt humans. Not Pieces. Aiden will rip you apart if you do anything."

"Good point. Alex, could you please recall your Piece?"

"Alexa, don't—!"

I cut off Aiden with a press of his PEN's button.

"I don't want Aiden to kill you. I won't let him have nightmares over you."

The PEN gets hot in my hand. I drop it to the ground.

"Now, Steven. Drop her hand, and walk away. Speaking of that, isn't it a bit strange to have dated the older and the younger? Next you'll be looking for her father, or mother. Just accept Wynne already. I told her you'd come around any day n-now."

Suddenly, a red flash from the ground.

Everything happens too fast.

I hear two gunshots and feel a burst of heat so intense, I have to shut my eyes. I'm pushed to the ground and there's something heavy on me and it smells like metal and cinnamon.

(Or does it happen in that order?)

(Maybe the gunshots come first, then the pushing, then the—)

Aiden's gagging makes me open my eyes. He collapses to his knees, throwing up blood that stains the red ground a lively gold. Nearby is his PEN, functional. There must be a safety release on it that prevents it from breaking from the inside out.

Red ground.

I'm alive.

I don't hurt.

Red ground.

There are two crimson holes on Steven's back.

"Steven?" I roll him over and off me. His eyes are closed. No exit wound. The bullets are still inside.

He's pale.

I quickly push him on his face again. The fabric of his top is red, my hands are red, the ground is red, except where the gold mixes in.

The rain chatters cheerfully. Further away is the fallen form of something still on fire, and something that smells like burnt meat.

"Aiden." But I say it too quietly. "Aiden. Aiden! AIDEN, HELP! TORRENT!" My heart jolts in my chest and I know Torrent is coming now. But how do I stop the bleeding? Do I put my hands over—

Fire.

"Aiden, please! AIDEN, I NEED YOU TO CAUTERIZE IT. Please, Aiden! I don't want him to die, I DON'T—"

He doesn't waste any time. He crawls over, hunched, and releases a stream of fire into one of the bullet holes. It's deep, really deep. Steven jerks violently and his flesh sizzles. Aiden pulls back and does the same for the other hole. Steven doesn't move this time.

Aiden falls to the ground without another word. I grab his PEN and recall him, furiously thinking. I could run and get someone, but I can't leave him here, or the Pieces will get him. They'll eat him. Should I just wait here with him, then? But who knows how far away Torrent could be and—

I bend down and prop Steven up, hoping that the wound doesn't open again.

"Steven, I gotta carry you, okay? This is gonna hurt and I'm small and I don't — I'm gonna get you to the Piece Center, okay?"

A long time ago, in second grade, the local brigade of firemen came to our school. They talked about forest fires and… basically a lot about forest fires (Southern California is a dry place), but they also showed us how to do the fireman's carry.

So I push and pull until I can put a shoulder by Steven's waist, then sling him across my shoulder, clutching his leg and arm. I put all my strength in my legs and stand up, shaking.

I move forward, running when I can, trotting when I can't. The rain makes huge puddles that I splash through and mud that I carefully pick my way over. If I fell, I don't think I'll be able to get up again. Aiden's PEN feels cold in my pocket; Steven's arm feels cold in my hand.

"Don't worry, Steven," I gasp when I have enough air in my lungs to spare, "I'll get you safe. Safe."

And eventually, I find myself before a ladder.

No time for screaming.

Don't cry, don't cry. You can do this.

Hand over hand. Switching off and balancing. I don't know if tears or blood is dripping down my face.

Hand over hand.

Ashes to ashes.

Aiden, I'm sorry you had to kill him.

Dust to dust.

Steven, hold—

Someone pulls me over the platform. I take the PEN out of my pocket, shove it at someone. Someone rips Steven away from me and disappears.

"TORRENT!" I scream and he rocks me, hushing me, rocking me.

"It's okay. It's okay. They're gonna fix them. They'll be okay. Skyra's the fastest flier I know. She's going to get them to the Piece Center. Look, they're going in right now. Look."

The rain blurs everything.

He picks me up and walks me over the bridges I would have slipped on. All the shutters and doors of the houses are closed. He jumps from the other end of the platform down to the ground. I barely feel the jar. The doors to the Piece Center slide open.

And then I am in a hospital bed, clutching a thick blanket.

(A hospital bed?)

(A hospital bed?)

My hair is damp.

"You're a smart girl, cauterizing him like that," a nurse says to me. She doesn't have pink hair. It's a nice brown color. She brings me another blanket and puts another pillow under my head. "That was fast thinking. And how did a little thing like you get him down the path and up the ladder? You saved his life."

I did, but Steven saved mine first.

Brown hair like Stephan's.

"There's a body on Route 120. He tried to kill me, and Aiden killed him. Where's Aiden? Is Aiden okay? Where's Steven?"

"A body on Route 120? I'll tell the police. Aiden's fine. He was cutting it a bit close there with the Overheat and the Embers that he used to close up Dr. Stone. But he'll be fine. Dr. Stone is in the operating room right now. They're patching him up. Seems like he punctured a lung and broke a couple of ribs, but he's alive. We can only hope and pray that his condition will stabilize."

She leaves me then, probably going off to tend to other patients. I'm not injured. Why am I here?

I listen to the beeping of the heart monitor.

I hear a soft buzzing sound. When I look up, Capala floats in.

"Capala?"

She doesn't look little anymore. She looks like Steven's age. She has on a grey jacket that comes to the bottom of her rib cage and a grey tank top. Her leggings look reflective, like metal. Above her head, a screw spins like a top. Orbiting her face are two flat plates that look vaguely like faces. But her hair is still gray and cut short. Her right eye still blinks red and blue. She's still Capala.

"Hello," her voice comes over the loudspeaker, crackly. "Safe, I see?" It's still melodic.

"Where are the others?"

"In the guest rooms."

"Why… why aren't they here?"

"They are not allowed in here. You are in shock. You have a cold. And there are cameras. But I can make myself not show up on cameras. I was naughty. I snuck in."

She floats over to me and sits on my legs. But not really, since she's floating.

"We were worried. Torrent felt your heart. When we got close enough, Skye started to cry. She also felt your heart, even though she couldn't see you. We thought you were injured. You were scared."

"I — I was so scared. I'm still scared," I say and press my hands to my mouth. "I don't want him to die!"

"You were quick and brave." She cradles my face in her cold hands, presses her forehead to mine. "Strong human." I hear the whirring of her right eye. The face plates start to orbit me, too.

"I got off with a cold, but Steven gets shot. Why — why…?" I want to cry, but the tears won't come out.

"Steven will be okay. He has a high chance of survival. You helped that when you made Aiden stop the bleeding."

"That… that wasn't for Steven. I was the one that was supposed to die, Capala." I grip her hands. "Steven took that gunshot for me."

"Yes, that is love," she says quizzically, as if I had missed a simple point.

I don't say anything.

Eventually, I fall asleep.

They couldn't kill me. They can't kill you. We are gods.

"Wake up."

I jolt awake. Wynne Lytton is standing over me, as lovely as ever. From this angle, she looks like an angel, with the light glowing around her head in a halo. Then, she grimaces.

"Wipe your drool off."

I do, propping myself up. The back of my head buzzes. Without touching anything, she drops a sticker and a small CD on my blankets.

"Feather Sticker, Aerial Ace TM."

I stare a beat too long at the items, and Wynne sighs disgustedly.

"What are these for?" I ask, prompted by her impatience. "I didn't beat your Gym."

"But you will. You have a Magneton. I'm forced to be a flying-type Gym Leader, and I'm not stupid. We all know the outcome of this match-up and frankly, I don't want to lose any of my Pieces. Not right now, anyway. Stephan Stone has just been found roasted alive in Route 120 and since I'm Gym Leader, I have to take care of that. And as heir of my father's company, I need to make sure that the media drag down Devon as much as they can with this. I don't have time to focus on a petty battle with a teenager. Now talk."

"You should try being nice. I heard it makes you live longer," I mumble. My tongue feels swollen. My hair is dry.

"As if smiling is going to make me healthier."

"No. Like, you might get stabbed. Which will shorten your life-span by a lot."

"Why was there a gun found on Stephan Stone's person? I know you're linked to this. I know it's your fault that Dr. Stone is—"

"Steven!" I bolt upright. "Where is he?! Is he stable now?!" I toss of the blankets and rip the IV from my arm. Blood spurts out but I quickly press a thumb down on it. It'll be fine. Where's Steven? I stumble to the floor.

"I'll take you to him if you tell me what happened," Wynne says quickly, moving away so I don't touch her. But I don't have time for that.

Right outside the door, a nurse stops me.

"I need to see Steven!" I scream when she holds me back. My legs keep shaking. The hospital gown is thin.

"You—"

"If you do not let me see Steven right now, I will have him fire all of you. He'll buy this entire hospital and make sure none of you get jobs ever again."

"You should try being nice," Wynne mimics behind me.

"Where is your IV?!" the nurse exclaims.

"I took it out! Please! I want to see Steven!"

"You need to calm down—"

"I'll be the quietest patient ever! I'll do whatever you tell me! But please, I want to see Steven!"

"If you'd calm down for three seconds," she says sharply, "you'd understand that I'd come to tell you that Dr. Stone is awake and is asking for you."

I walk down the hall with her, too scared to be embarrassed, too nervous to be sad.

Bastion's in the room when I walk in.

"One day," she interrupts, holding up a hand to stop my words, "I will understand and accept that this was completely Steven's choice, and no fault of your own. But right now, I feel like I can personally strangle you and watch you die. I had to keep Stavros in his PEN because of that. He hasn't been in his PEN in seven years."

"Bastion," Steven whispers, lifting up his oxygen mask. "Get out."

She nods and without another glance, walks out the door. The nurse guides me over next to Steven and then starts to check the machines and the several IV lines in his arm. I'm too shocked to say anything.

He's alive.

He's alive.

But there's a tube coming out the side of his chest and the skin is smeared with blood around the area. I can see the skin open up to dark red muscles. What is it supposed to be doing? He looks paler than usual and the IV bag goes drip, drip, drip, drip.

"Am I that pretty?" he whispers, dark circles under his eyes. His chest must hurt so much. I can barely hear him over the oxygen hissing into the mask. "Christ, what big pupils you have."

I lean over the railing, lift up his mask, and kiss him.

The heart monitor makes a flurried beeping sound and I pull back, surprised, but he pulls me back down, hand on the back of my neck and kisses back, warm, alive, breathing. Something burns in the pit of my stomach and he's alive, he's alive.

"Hey! Knock it off and keep your BPM down!" the nurse barks. I break away and Steven laughs, this pathetic wheezing noise, but his smile still looks like the sun. The heart monitor continues beeping frantically.

"I've been wanting to do that for ages," he breathes, grinning like he hadn't been shot twice.

"I hate you," I respond, but he just pulls my hand to his face, to his mouth. "I hate you. Why did you do that?"

"Kiss you?"

"No!" I shout and the nurse give me a stare so cold, that I shiver. "Why did you do that?"

"Number one," he ticks up a finger, "I'm bigger, so I knew the gun would do less damage to me. Number two, there were only two rounds in the gun's chamber. The rest were fake. I don't know why my father would do that — no, I do. There's no evidence now, linking him to what should have been murder. He knew Stephan would die. Dead man tell no tales." He winces a bit and reaches over and turns up a dial. After a while, he relaxes. "Morphine's the best thing ever."

"You thought of that all so fast."

"No," he says, closing his eyes and letting his hand fall. My hand is on his face, for once. Grey stubble prickles the palm of my hand. "I just thought of those reasons now. But when Aiden came out of his PEN and I saw Stephan start to move, I just pushed you down. There was no thinking. I wanted you to live."

"You could have died."

"Probably."

"You could have died!"

"Yeah."

"The nurses…" and here I falter. He opens his eyes and brings his hand to mine, held against his face. "The nurses said if I hadn't thought to cauterize the wound, or if you had arrived a minute later, you definitely would have died."

"That was very quick thinking." He smiles. "But after all the times you told me not to leave you, I wouldn't have just gone."

And here, I break down.

Steven lowers the railing of the bed and pulls me to him and I cry against his shoulder. He can't rock me. It bet hurts beyond anything for him to speak. But he does card through my hair with steady fingers, mouth against the top of my head.

He smells like alcohol.

He smells like rain.

(Where is the cinnamon?)

"How did you manage to get me up the ladder?" he asks. I laugh, shakily, and it's still more of a sob than anything. His voice is genuinely confused. "I've been trying to figure it out, and that's the only thing I can't understand."

"I—" and for the first time, I realize my palms and fingers and covered with bandages. I peel one off and they all come off together, in one big, sticky mess. The skin underneath is angry and red and scraped and swollen. "I just climbed. I didn't want you to die."

He looks at me, not smiling anymore, fingers woven into my hair, and that goddamn expression on his face. His other hand touches the corner of my lips.

"I love you," he says.

I kiss him again to steal the words from his mouth.

This time, I close my eyes.


Briar reaches me first. Then Skyra. Then Torrent. Then Skye. Then Aiden. They hug me and I'm being lifted off the ground and kissed and hugged some more and I've never seen Skyra cry before but here she is, angrily brushing away tears. Capala floats above us, throwing happy sparks. Then Briar and Torrent are taking turns yelling at me, but they can't yell too long without hugging me and I'm warm and happy and I edge my way around them to hold Aiden's hand.

"I'm sorry," I say to him when I reach him.

"Don't," he shakes his head and hugs me, so much warmer than the others. "Don't be."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He kisses my cheek, but doesn't say another word. He smiles, eyes flickering saffron and tangerine. His eyes are different.

Torrent points it out later, much later, when it's just him and me awake in a dark and sleepy room.

"Look," he says, gesturing at Aiden's sleeping form, curled up next to us. There is no turtle lazily swimming around on his skin anymore. Instead, on his upper arm, are seven red bars in a straight, even line.

"What does it mean?" I whisper to Torrent.

"It only appears on people who've had tattoo emblems," he answers, his exhale tickling my ear, "They say shamans and tribe leaders and pack mothers all have it. It stands for something brave. Well, the actual words are different in every specie's language. But it's always seven words." He taps each line as he says them to me in English. Aiden stirs, but doesn't wake. He has no nightmares.

I whisper the words to myself for the rest of the night.

"I was saved and in return, save."