Disclaimer: Can't beat my, can't beat my, no you can't beat my disclaimer (I don't wanna get myself sued).

It may have been the adrenaline, or it may have been because enough time had passed, but as Petrel bolted out of the base and towards the tree line of the town's outskirts, he was starting to loose that chill, relaxed feeling he'd had. On one hand, he was thankful that he was starting to sober up, as it would allow him to be in a stable state of mind once they began evacuations. On the other hand, he was slowly starting to realize the mistake he had made with that Gold boy and that Ariana was going to be furious when she caught up with him, and he was slowly but surely becoming rather nervous of the fact- Archer had more or less just purged his track record, and Petrel wasn't exactly keen on getting anything put back on there. Also, when he had to spill the beans to Proton- because, of course, he would have to spill the beans to Proton, how could he possibly not- his companion would definitely be pissed with him, if only because he'd been scarfing down pot brownies without said companion's knowing.

"He's gonna skin me alive," he murmured, more to himself than to Monoxide, who was floating on behind him. Nevertheless, that didn't stop his favorite koffing from replying.

"Koff?" At his pokemon's anxious expression, Petrel felt his frown deepening.

"No, not really," he sighed, "Pro's unstable, but he's not that bad. The only time he's ever laid a finger on me, with the intention of hurting me, was that once, right after Decarli left. Don't worry, Monoxide, alright?"

"Koff!" Monoxide protested, pouting. "Koff, kofffiiing, koffkoffing koff!"

"I don't know what Archer's gonna do," Petrel whined, "half the time I think the man's even more unstable than Proton! It just goes to show you, Monoxide, you always gotta keep your guard up around Irish mafiamen, alright? Sometimes I wonder if he should have been the soulless ginger of the two." Monoxide chortled, just as anxious as his expression, but it was enough to lighten the mood as they pressed onwards, attempting to find a safe path for what remained of their organization to escape upon.

"You know," Petrel mused as he climbed up a rather steep ledge towards Route 42, "something tells me things would be going a lot smoother if we still had Decarli. He was always better at that whole 'don't let strange children into our base' thing than Seliber was. And that 'don't let Proton kill the grunts' thing, too. Just, in general, if Decarli were here, we'd still be cooped up inside like we were supposed to be."

"Koffiiiiiing," Monoxide agreed. Petrel grunted as he hoisted himself up another, steeper ledge (he'd go so far as to call it a small cliff, actually), mentally huffing complaints about how it totally wasn't fair that Monoxide could just float over the damn thing. Half-way up, however, his mental complaints were cut short by his pokegear going off, and for a split second as it vibrated he was certain it was either Proton calling to check in, or Ariana calling to tell him that she was going to hunt him down and murder him in his sleep. The only thing that convinced him otherwise was a ringtone he hadn't heard in years (it just so happened to be New Politics' Give Me Hope, which he hadn't listened to in forever, it felt like), and despite being terribly surprised, he indulged in his usual mannerism of allowing said ringtone to play for several seconds longer than was absolutely necessary (to be fair, he was still getting over climbing the damn cliff) before he answered it.

"Seeing as this is the first time you've called me since you resigned," the purple executive said, almost curtly, "I'm going to assume something's up, and it involves Proton. He didn't kill anything small and adorable, did he?"

"No," came Decarli's voice from the other end, so familiar and yet at the same time so not, "he- I think he might be in trouble."

"Yeah, that's not new," Petrel sighed, sitting down. "Where is he?"

"Last I saw him, he was heading down to the Underground Path. That was last night- he hasn't come out, yet. He said if he took too long, I should call you."

"Underground Path? The hell would he be doing down there?" Decarli hesitated for a moment.

"Well... he thought he saw some Cipher grunts head down there," he eventually admitted, "I... was too chicken to go down with him. I'm sorry, sir. I fear he's been captured."

"Shit," Petrel groaned. "Dammit, Decarli!You used to be more useful than this! Weren't you supposed to be Pro's battle buddy?!"

"I said I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do about it, now."

"Yes there fucking is. You're going down with me, when I get there. In the meantime, find us a couple of Cipher uniforms, if you can. With good disguises, we'll be in and out before you can say 'koffing'."

"You can't be serious."

"Does it look like I'm joking, here?"

"...No?"

"Good guess." Petrel nodded in satisfaction. "Though, since you had a fifty-fifty chance, I'm not entirely impressed. If I Fly I'll be there in less than thirty minutes. You better be ready when I get there."

"Yes, Sir. I'll be standing around near the Game Corner."

"Alright. I'll meet you, there." Before Decarli could say another word, Petrel flipped his PokeGear shut and slipped it back into his pocket, standing and stretching. Monoxide floated over him, frowning slightly, and Petrel raised an eyebrow in return. "What's up, Monoxide?"

"Koff," Monoxide replied, obviously in no way reassured that Petrel was actually sobering up, "koffing."

"Oh, don't be like that. I'm a doctor." Ignoring Monoxide's continuing doubts, Petrel opened his bag and began digging in it, withdrawing a revive and some potions. "Do you really have so little faith in me that you thought I wouldn't come prepared?" He flipped open the revive container, revealing a small tube, and fitted it into an equally small opening in the pokeball, pressing a button to administer the drug. After a moment, the pokeball beeped, and he put the empty revive back in his bag (he was an Executive, not a litterbug), and then gently tossing it, let Helix back out. The ditto gave a small whine and sagged slightly, a pitiful look on his face.

"Ditto," he squeaked.

"Aw, I know, baby, I know," Petrel crooned, "that mean little boy made his pokemon hurt you real bad, didn't he? Don't worry, I'll make you feel better in no time, okay? Now, hold still, this'll sting a little..." Helix grimaced as the purple executive sprayed him with a couple of the potions, but smiled and squeaked when the soothing agents kicked in. "Feeling better? Or at least good enough to give me a lift to Goldenrod?" Helix puffed out his ditto-y chest (or what passed for a ditto-chest) and then transformed, taking the shape of a mighty aerodactyl. Petrel grinned and recalled Monoxide, who still looked doubtful of the whole situation, and then climbed onto Helix's back.

With a single, fierce cry, the ditto-turned-aerodactyl beat his wings and took to the sky. As the wind whipped passed the two, Petrel couldn't help but feel as though, maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright. That they would be able to retrieve Proton safely, and that even with the loss of their very last base, their message would reach Giovanni. That things could go back to normal, even in just a few years. That his life hadn't been wasted. From so high up in the air, on a ditto that seemed to be able to transform into anything and everything, Petrel felt practically invincible. Just for a bit.

Decarli shifted anxiously outside of the game corner as he clutched a bag filled with Cipher uniforms to his chest- he really had no idea how he'd gotten so lucky as to get his hands on what he could. One second he'd been talking to Petrel over the pokegear (which was nostalgic as hell), and the next, he'd been quietly following a couple of Cipher grunts down an alley. It had been such a long time since Shoyu had battled in even the vaguest sense, but Decarli had been relieved to know that there hadn't been any impact on her skill, whatsoever. One Stealth Rock and a couple Foul Plays later, and the grunts had been safely and carefully hidden in a dumpster after having their uniforms stripped from them. All in all, it had been a clean job. He only hoped it wouldn't be too late for them to rescue Proton.

It had been less than half an hour later when Petrel, hair slicked back and make-up blurring his features, showed up, and Decarli barely recognized him, at first. Of course, he'd gotten used to seeing Petrel with make-up over the years, so it wasn't that that threw him off- it was how thin he was. The executive had always been a bit of a beanpole, but he just looked downright malnourished, now. Idly, he wondered why Proton hadn't seemed that unhealthy, but otherwise, cast it out of his mind. Now wasn't the time to be musing over old friends' health.

"Executive," he greeted quietly. "I got what you asked for."

"Good." Petrel nodded in satisfaction. "We'll change in the alley and head down. Have you cleared a Cipher outpost, before?"

"Yes, sir," Decarli confirmed. "Proton always took me with him on those missions."

"I want you and Shoyu to watch my six. I'll try and keep you as far out of harm's way as possible; I can just imagine your wife isn't too thrilled you're out here, with us."

"Ah, actually, she still thinks I work at the department store." Decarli laughed awkwardly as they ducked into an alley to change. "I quit a couple days ago, so I could work with Proton."

"Oh, you're coming back? That explains things." Petrel frowned as he adjusted his goggles and scarf. "Geez, I thought these guys were Orre-based. With these uniforms, they'd get heatstroke in that Ho-ohforsaken spit of land."

"To be fair, our uniforms weren't exactly conducive to a healthy lifestyle in the summer," Decarli said, shrugging. Petrel snorted, but after that, all conversation came to a halt. They ran through the back alleys until they found themselves at an entrance to the Goldenrod Tunnels, where Petrel paused, lowered his goggles over his eyes, and motioned for Decarli to do the same. The moment the two of them were ready, they plunged forth into the depths of Goldenrod's underbelly.

The tunnels were just as dirty and filled with trash as Petrel remembered them to be, which was a shame- it could have been a wonderful shopping mall, provided people had actually taken care of it. There were a couple shops, of course, and they were lovely, when he'd managed to catch them- the haircut brothers especially, the older one wasn't exactly bad to look at- and he could only guess as to how they actually made a living with barely anyone going by. It probably involved copious amounts of shady dealings. Huh. Maybe he should get in on that, if he ever found Proton. If they got a good slowpoke tail supply going, maybe they could sell down there.

"So, where's this Cipher base?" he asked as he led Decarli forward. Decarli shrugged.

"Not entirely sure," he said, "I didn't get down this far. I- I chickened out above ground."

"Dammit, Decarli," Petrel sighed. "Alright, let's just-"

"Hey- you two!" Petrel frowned and glanced up, finding none other than a member of Team Cipher striding towards them from down the tunnel. Huh. Well, that was convenient timing. He felt Decarli freeze next to him, but he wasn't about to let this opportunity go to waste.

"Sir!" Petrel replied, saluting. "What can we do for you?" The Cipher stared at them for a moment quietly, tilting his head just a bit. Oh, great. He was already suspicious.

"I don't think I've seen you around," he said slowly, "who sent you?"

"The, uh- the Union," Decarli quickly stuttered out. The Cipher crossed his arms, his frown deepening.

"Which union?"

"The- the one for Cipher Grunts? They said you needed backup?" There were several more moments of silence in which the Cipher stared at them, long and hard, before he shrugged.

"Well, if the Union sent you, I guess I can't argue," he said. "Actually, some back-up would be good, right now- we got our hands on one of the tops guys in Team Rocket, and he's a handful, even with all that shit we're shooting him up with. Follow me."

"How did you know about the Union?" Petrel whispered to Decarli as they followed the Cipher back down the tunnel. Decarli snorted.

"Man, I was talking out of my ass," he replied, "I just got lucky." Petrel had to try hard not to laugh.

The room they were led to- or rather series of rooms- was odd, to be perfectly honest. It seemed to be made up of multiple rooms with differently-colored floors. A room in the middle had a set of three switches, and Petrel nodded them out to Decarli as they passed. That was definitely something to keep in mind. Who knows? Maybe it could be useful. Of course, they didn't stop in any of the rooms, they were merely led to and down a set of stairs, into a larger, darker room filled with boxes- a warehouse, Petrel recognized. They must have been somewhere under the department store. Interesting.

"Alright," the Cipher pig was saying, "so what you two are going to do here is-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Decarli had bashed him upside the head with a length of pipe, and while the Cipher was momentarily stunned, slammed the pipe into his stomach, then into his crotch. The man let out a pitiful noise and doubled over, falling to the floor. One more kick, and he was out. Petrel nodded in approval.

"I see why Pro likes to take you with him," he mused. "Alright, I'm going further in- you clear the place out, we'll meet back up in the tunnels in twenty. Sound good?"

"I have no idea how many of these bastards there are," Decarli sighed, "there may be too many of them, Petrel."

"I know, just... do what you can, yeah?" Petrel waved off Decarli's concerns with a strained smiles. "Don't worry. We'll all be okay." Decarli merely shook his head, but he accepted his assignment without complaint, and turned, taking off to sweep the warehouse. Petrel watched him go until he'd disappeared, and steeling himself, let out a his of air in anxiety.

He sure hoped things would be okay.

The world was blurry- no, no fuzzy. Why was everything so fuzzy? Ugh, it was probably those damn mareep again, and- why did that seem so familiar? Proton groaned around a wad of cloth that seemed to be stuffed in his mouth as he tried to think it over. For some reason, he had the oddest urge to go find a bass cannon. Oh, Lugia, something was wrong with him. Okay- okay- what was the last thing he could remember? He'd gone out with Decarli, they'd gotten the blueprints from the radio tower, they'd had lunch... they'd seen a Cipher member. He'd chased the Cipher member. Someone grabbed him, and there had been chloroform. So he'd been captured. Slowly, he flexed his fingers, finding them to be behind his back, and he tried to bring them around to his front, but no matter how hard he tried- and he didn't seem to be able to try very hard, for some odd reason- he couldn't get them away from each other. So that probably meant rope. Maybe chains, if those assholes knew what was good for them. But then why was the room filled with so many pretty colors? And why was it so wavey?

He tried to think, tried to come up with answers to his current predicament, but he only succeeded in hurting his head and making the waviness worse. Fuck, they'd drugged him. Not good. Okay, step one: get out of his restraints. Step two: find his knife and go on a violent rampage. Step three: find his hat, because he was damn sure it wasn't on his head, where it was supposed to be. But first, he had to get some use of his hands. And probably his legs. A quick flex determined that all of his extremities were intact, but just as his arms had been, his legs seemed to be bound, as well. That was alright. He'd deal with it, and those bastard would pay.

Slowly, uncoordinated, he began to tug against the ropes, and gradually they began to loosen. Great. Just a few more hours of this, and he'd be home free. Fuckin' knots. Maybe if he got his feet free, first... With a muffled grunt, he began squirming, but instead of getting himself out of his restraints, he merely succeeded in falling over. Well, maybe he could just weedle his way over to the door and get out that way. Somehow. He was just beginning to do that, in fact, when the door opened and a blurry, white, tall figure entered the room. Ah, shit. It was a peon- as if he needed that, right now. It was a rather bold peon, as well, he was getting close- a little too close, in fact- wait why was he coming so close oh shit not more drugs shitshitshitshitshitshi-

"Lance?" came the tentative voice. "Oh, Ho-Oh, what the hell did they do to you?" Fuck. The peon kneeled in front of him and reached out to touch him, to undoubtedly shoot him up with something or other, and that was something he really, really didn't want, because according to Petrel he got so fucking clingy when he was out of it. That didn't stop the figure from enveloping him with a pair of exceedingly warm arms, and he began to flail. He'd be fucked if he let some Cipher get away with drugging him again. "Hey, hey- shh, sweetheart, it's alright, it's me. Calm down, okay? Sweetheart, please!" 'Sweetheart'? Only Petrel had the balls to call him that. In fact, only Petrel could even get away with it. Then that meant...

The purple-haired executive removed the helmet of the uniform he was wearing, tossing it carelessly to the side as he continued to shush Proton, holding him close. His embrace had a calming effect on the greenette, and he found himself settling down, though he was struggling to get his breathing back under control. He tried to speak, but of course, it came out muffled.

"Decarli told me what happened," Petrel murmured, "don't worry, sweetheart, I'll get you out of here. Let me just get that gag out of your mouth..." Apparently, they'd taped his mouth shut, too, because the next thing Proton knew a fiery sting spread across his cheeks and lips as Petrel ripped it off.

"Y'coulda been gentle, ass," he slurred the instant the cloth was removed from his mouth. Petrel laughed a little.

"If only I had the time, right?" He proceeded to flick out a knife and started slicing through the ropes. "Sorry. At least I did it quick. Decarli's holding off the peons, but I dunno how much longer he'll be able to fight 'em. We'll need to hurry to-" It seemed luck was not on their side, that day, as it was about that moment when the door opened, yet again,and a couple more peons stepped inside; Proton was pretty sure none of them were going to be exactly friendly.

"I told you we had an infestation," one of them sneered.

"Damn Rockets," another added. "You'd think they'd learn."

"Hey," said the third, "look at it this way: now we'll have two of their executives."

"You're right," the second agreed, "we'd probably get a good chunk of cash if we ransom 'em off."

"Or we could ship 'em to Orre and morph 'em," the first mused.

"Or you could, y'know, not," Petrel piped in. They merely glowered at him, and he groaned. "Oh, c'mon, guys, think of all the good times we had! Like that time I said 'hey' to you two minutes ago like we were friends!" Yeah, they didn't seem amused in the least. In fact, they seemed decidedly ferocious about it all, as they lunged at Petrel, coming at him from all sides. Proton watched, eyes wide as his lover danced out of the way of their attacks, the distance between them all closing and closing until he was avoiding them by mere centimeters. With a growl, the green executive began tugging against the ropes again. Thanks to Petrel's earlier efforts, the ropes around his legs were somewhat loose, and they came off easily, but the ropes around his wrist were still tight as fuck.

"P!" he called, "Seven 'o clock!" Petrel whirled around quickly, managing to trip the peon rushing him, and grinned over his shoulder at Proton.

"Thanks, Pro!" He quickly blocked another attack and threw that peon over his shoulder. Proton grinned, and was about to make a joke, something about Petrel being too quick for him (which would definitely get him trouble the next time they slept together, but it was usually worth it), and from Petrel's grin, he could tell the man was certainly satisfied with himself- he could probably be expecting some sort of performance joke in return. And then there was the warm splattering on his face, and he blinked, confused. The fuck was...? Slowly, the two of them lowered their gaze only to find the end of a knife piercing through Petrel's uniform, and that was when Proton understood.

That had been blood that splattered on his face. Petrel's blood. Someone stabbed Petrel. Someone. Fucking. Stabbed. Petrel. His lover stared at the blade tip for just a moment before turning wide eyes back on Proton's face. A split second later, he was falling to his knees, one hand flying to the knife to keep it in place while the other raised to his mouth as he coughed up blood. The peon behind him, one eye bruised but otherwise looking perfectly fine, grinned.

"Think you had us just 'cause we're the lackeys?" he snickered, "guess again, hotshot. Didn't they teach you never to let your guard down in that sissy team of yours?" Proton snarled angrily and tugged at the ropes around his wrists harder and harder; the peon looked back to him and laughed outright. "And you! 'Scariest and cruelest' my ass! Some rope's all it takes to keep you off my back, ya little prick! Couldn't even do anything to stop me from killing your buddy, here!"

Anger. Blinding rage. Proton's vision started to swim, the world fading around him into nothing more than a blur, and all of a sudden he was flying through the air, a warcry tearing from his throat. He wasn't sure what happened, just that there was red, so much fucking red, and something soft and kinda squishy tearing apart easily in his hands. A heavy metallic scent began to stain the air, but it didn't mean anything to him, he just kept snarling and growling like a wild pokemon, watching as more and more red pooled in the blurriness of it all. It had been such a long time since he experienced such pure, unadulterated rage. It felt good.

The next thing he knew, he was breathing heavily, trying to keep his anger in check, and pinning the peon who had hurt Petrel to the wall by his soft, vulnerable little neck. Shit, how much he wanted to wring the life out of the little fucker then and there. The man- no, kid, he was just a boy, young and arrogant and cocky- was staring at him, wide-eyed and pale. So fragile, Proton thought, all he'd had to do was go a little wild and the brat was scared of him. But maybe this would be a good thing. He could show a little mercy, now and again.

"Here's the deal," he spat out between grinding teeth, "I'm gonna let you down and count to fuckin' ten. If you're not out by the time I finish, I'll fuckin' tear your ass apart. But Petrel, here, the guy you stabbed? He's a nice guy, asshole. He'd tell me to put you the fuck down, 'cause you're still a snot-nosed punk who don't know right from left. So here's how it's gonna work. You haul ass back to wherever the fuck Cipher hangs, and you tell those bastards I said to get the fuck out of our region. You tell 'em if they don't, I'll fuckin' see to it that no one gets out alive- and then, I'll take you home with me, and keep you down in one of my dark little dungeons so I can play with you. You'd be surprised how long I can keep someone alive, even if I hack off a limb or two. But you be a good boy, you give 'em my message, and you all scram? No one else gets hurt. You go home scot-free, and your mama will be so fuckin' happy 'bout it, too. We understand each other, here, punk?" The boy was shaking like a leaf, now, and Proton couldn't help but smirk, and tighten his grip. "Well? Yes or no, I ain't got all day?" The boy nodded rapidly, wordlessly, and without another threat, Proton dropped him. He watched until the boy was out of the room, and the instant he was alone with Petrel, he spun around and ran over, dropping to his knees next to the man.

"Shit, Lance," Petrel gasped, "I think you're getting worse." Proton spared a glance back at the room- the bodies of the other two peons seemed to have been literally torn apart, the walls and floor covered in blood, and he grimaced before turning back to Petrel.

"Don't worry about that now," he replied, "you're hurt, P. I- I don't know how... Can you tell me how- how to fix you? Here, I'll..." He reached around Petrel's back towards the knife's handle, but Petrel shook his head and coughed again, his grip on the blade tightening.

"Don't pull it out," he grunted, "if you remove it, I'll just bleed out. Just- just call Bernard, okay? Call Bernard, tell him what happened, I don't- I don't have anything to..."

"Oh, Ho-Oh..." Proton reached out, slowly and hesitantly, trying to somehow stop the bleeding even around the knife. "Petrel, this is really, really bad-"

"Call Bernard," Petrel repeated, "it'll be okay, sweetheart, call Bernard... Just do it, okay...?" The younger opened his mouth to protest, but his lover merely fixed him with a pleading, desperate gaze before turning to cough, again, this time worse, and Proton's hand flew to Petrel's pokegear, scrolling quickly passed several of the contacts until he found Drazen's number, and he hit the 'call' button.

It took two minutes for the man to answer. It took three for him to get Proton to calm down enough to explain the situation. Four to reassure him everything was going to be okay. That was when Petrel finally collapsed, struggling to stay awake despite the bleeding. Proton had dropped the pokegear then, not caring when the screen cracked, and rushed back to his lover's side, panicking and calling his name over and over again until Decarli came in, leading Drazen and one or two more nurses straight to them. They tried to take Petrel away from him, but he wouldn't have it, and he fought and struggled, fang and claw, as Decarli did his best to pull him away, trying to explain to him that they needed to get Petrel somewhere clean and safe so they could help him. He wore himself out soon enough, reduced to nothing more but a disheveled wreck.

They took Petrel back to Decarli's apartment, where Petrel was set on the couch and the rest of them were ushered into Virgil's bedroom with the child and Decarli's wife, who had, quite honestly, been very upset when she finally found out what had been going on behind her back. The two of them began arguing, civil at first, and gradually more and more heated and more and more angry until they'd gotten into a shouting match and he couldn't take it, he couldn't fucking take it. He retreated further and further back until his back hit the corner and he slid down to sit on the floor, covering his ears, trying so hard to block them out and oh shit it was bad it was so bad there was so much blood and Petrel was hurt and everyone was shouting and oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shitohshitohshitohshitohfuckingshit.

He wasn't sure when he broke. He wasn't even sure why he broke the way he did. He wasn't angry, anymore, he was scared. So fucking scared, because Petrel had lost so much fucking blood already, and oh, Lugia, he didn't want to lose him, oh fuck, he was so scared he was going to lose him. All he knew was that when the waterworks finally broke, Decarli was instantly at his side, telling Sheryl to take Virgil to the bathroom and lock themselves in, and the man held him. Just held him. He didn't say anything, just let him cry and cry and cry until he'd cried himself out, and even then he continued to hold him, rubbing his back soothingly. Fuck. He was getting all touchy-feely and shit. This had to be Petrel's fault, somehow.

"It's alright," Decarli murmured, "it's alright, kiddo. Everything is going to be alright. Drazen's good, y'know? Petrel will be fine. Everything's gonna be fine, alright?" Proton nodded vigorously, clinging tightly to his old friend.

"I'm scared," he admitted, "I'm so fucking scared, Leo." He laughed awkwardly and wiped at his eyes. "Fuck, look at me, all of this over a little flesh wound. What a joke."

"I'd be just as bad as you, in your position," Decarli snorted. "I'm actually surprised you're taking this so well. I guess you got it all out of your system with those Cipher punks?"

"I tore them to fuckin' shreds," Proton sneered, almost hysterically. "They shoulda fuckin' known not to mess with me."

"They know now." Decarli ruffled his hair affectionately, and momentarily Proton was reminded of the days he first spent in Team Rocket, shy and quiet and polite, when Decarli was still teaching him how they ran things in the U. They'd taken a instant liking to each other, then. Work wasn't all Decarli had taught him about, either- cards, billiards, hockey, drinking, talking to girls, the best place to train his pokemon out in the forest. That was back when Petrel had been keeping him at an arm's length, only talking with him long enough to say 'good morning' and 'see you tomorrow'. Decarli had always been there, for him. Fuck, he was such a good friend.

"I don't think I ever told you how fucking much I appreciate you putting up with me, Leo," the greenette laughed. He finally pulled away, slumping back against the wall, and Decarli offered him a small smile and sat back next to him.

"It's all in the job description," he said. "I gotta look out for you, y'know. You're a top-priority unit. Though maybe not top-quality, in terms of sanity."

"Sanity's over-rated when you work in security." He smirked and nodded towards the bathroom. "I think I'm alright, now. If you wanna calm 'em back."

"It might be better to keep them there for a little longer, sorry. It's not that I don't trust you, or anything, just... I'm not sure if you're really stable yet, after all that." The man shook his head. "I won't lie, what you did was pretty fucked up. But you let the kid go. I guess I'm kinda proud of you, for that. It must have taken some insane willpower, especially for you."

"Petrel would have been angry if I killed a kid." The executive shrugged one shoulder. "He was hurt, I couldn't do anything to stress him out." Decarli's smile broadened, and he was ab out to say something else when the door opened, and Bernard peered in. Proton found himself stiffening at the man's presence, but he merely smiled brightly.

"He's alright," he said, "a little woozy, but he didn't lose so much he needed a transfusion, or anything. It was good you didn't pull the knife out, things could have been much worse. He's still awake- you wanna come say hi?" Proton didn't need telling twice; he leaped to his feet and rushed into the living room, kneeling next to the couch and giving Petrel, tired-looking but smiling, the biggest hug he possibly could. Decarli and Bernard watched on from over by the kitchen bar.

"I'm surprised he pulled through," Decarli murmured.

"He's a tough cookie, I'll give him that," Bernard agreed, "it wasn't looking good, for a little bit. Heard Proton's little melt-down, though. It stressed him out a hell of a lot. He tried to get up in the middle of the treatment to go to him."

"They're both good kids. They need each other."

"So does this mean you're back, then?" Decarli nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "I'll have to explain it all to Sheryl, tonight, but I think once I get it all out there, she'll understand. She won't be happy, of course, but she'll understand. That kid is like family to us, y'know? We practically adopted him when he first signed on. I have to watch out for him, while I still can."

"I guess that puts us roughly in the same boat," Bernard said dryly, "ever since I got transferred here, I've had to watch out for Petrel. You remember those days, when he was always picking on the new guys?" Decarli laughed, and nodded.

"Oh, I was always so worried for this one new kid in my group. Petrel seemed to have his eyes on him a little more than he needed to. It's a shame what happened, in the end."

"Archer made me keep even closer tabs on the guy after that. He's come a long way since then, though. They both have."

"I guess we can only hope things will get better from here."

"Yeah. Probably shouldn't get them up too high, though. This really could all go to shit."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see."

For now, they would have to be content simply watching the happy ending to their current events. There was no doubt stress was going to be running high, come the next few weeks. They might as well enjoy the happy moments while they lasted. There was no telling when everything could just disappear. But, really, what was the point in worrying? What would come, would come, and they would just have to take it as it all came. That was their job, after all.

Fun fact: Proton was the one who was supposed to get stabbed in this chapter, but he's gotten maimed enough, so far, so Petrel it was.

Other Fun Fact: This was actually supposed to be part of a larger sub-plot before the events of Silph. I thought it would have a better impact here, though.

Other Other Fun Fact: Decarli and Bernard are childhood friends, back from their goody-two-shoes trainer days. They were surprised to find each other in Team Rocket when they ran back into each other, again, and are now more like friendly rivals.

We're almost done, guys! Next is the Radio Tower! Are you stoked? I'm stoked! Whooooo! Just to let you know, I'm planning on it being one of the largest chapters (it was originally going to be two-three chapters long, but to make the story fit in 40 chapters, with epilogue, it has to be condensed), so it may take me a while to get it all, but please stay tuned!