Broken Things Chapter 62: Thy Will Be Done, a pokémon fanfic

It's been a long road here. To briefly summarize the events of previous chapters because some were really heavy: Genesis went home during The Blackout when her parents accepted her back. While there it was revealed that she was kicked out because she was kissed by her (female) childhood friend, Lyra. After she realizes that she is a lesbian her parents put her through conversion therapy while locked in her room. Along the way her parents realize that Cuicatl was a psychic and hire one of their own to see if their daughter had been tampered with. She had not been. The psychic admitted that psychic conversion therapy was possible but had terrible outcomes and was highly illegal. He gave Genesis a mental warning that if her parents tried it anyway she could call out to Lila Takeda in her mind and she would be rescued.

After months more of conversion therapy, Genesis was left confused and exhausted but still committed to being a better person. By a certain definition of 'better.' Part of this involved yelling at images of Lyra and Cuicatl, her past crushes. After one of her conversion therapist's lessons literally blew up in her face she was fired. Genesis's father decided to finally hire another psychic from Russia to perform the realignment surgery.

In the meantime, Genesis's brother reached out to Kekoa, Cuicatl, and Lyra to see if they could help. While they did manage to get investigations launched by the international police and child protective services, they haven't been able to come up with a better plan to help.

Content Warnings for this chapter: internalized homophobia, spiritual abuse, child abuse, transphobia, racism, ableism, general queer nightmare fuel. Now, on with the show.

Rock 4.17: Thy Will Be Done
Genesis

They're talking about you in the other room.

"I assure you, this is merely a formality."

Someone told CPS about you.

"I understand. You're simply doing your job. Not your fault people are so quick to file false complaints these days."

And they don't think it matters. At least you know it isn't legally abuse.

"I will need to speak with the girl now."

"Naturally. Do you mind if I tag along? She can get nervous when talking to strangers without someone she trusts in the room."

"Fine by me."

The door opens. Father and Red walk in alongside a brunette woman in a pantsuit.

Miss Rivers had a lot to say about pantsuits and the women who wear them. 'Elitist whores,' she'd called them. 'Women who reject their duty to Life.'

You do your best to push that down. Father had spent a long time talking to you this morning about the importance of not messing this up. They could take you away. Put you in a heathen home. Damn your soul forever when salvation is at hand.

"Hello, Genesis. My name is Debra Smith. I work for Child Protective Services." She pauses. "Do you know what we do?"

You nod. Stern without being nervous. Just like Father had practiced with you. "Yes."

"Good." She sits down in an armchair. Father sits on the couch with Red resting beside him. The pyroar reaches out to stretch and you're reminded how very big her claws are. A yawn then shows you her mouth full of sharp teeth. "Now, we've received some reports that there may be abuse going on here. Are these reports accurate?"

'There's a difference between abuse and spiritual medicine,' Miss Rivers explained. 'Abusive parents hold no love for their children. They act to satisfy their own selfish, hateful desires. Parents who administer spiritual medicine do not do so out of hate, but out of love. The Decalibres themselves prescribe parents to punish misbehaving children so they may grow up to be righteous. What is truly abusive is letting your beloved child suffer for eternity.'

What happened was spiritual medicine, not abuse. Cuicatl's father abused her. When he starved her or stabbed her with cactus spikes, that was designed to hurt her. Or maybe it was some blood ritual to his pagan gods. When your parents enforced fasting or had the starmie follow you it was in your own best interests. You would have done the same if only you weren't corrupted.

"No," you tell her. "I wasn't abused."

"Wonderful to hear." With that she stands up and turns to the door. After exchanging a few more pleasantries with your father she leaves.

He walks over to you and rests a hand on your shoulder. "Thank you for handling that with maturity. Just two more days and all of our troubles will be over."

Today is the day. You don't know when the therapist is coming, but he will come before the day's end. And then it will all be over, one way or another.

You know you should take your spiritual medicine without complaint. You're corrupted by The Wicked One, you know this.

Yet your resolve wavers at the end.

You pace the room like a caged animal. Your hands are folded behind your back. You like to have something in your hands to toy with or toss, but it isn't proper. You must be proper to be saved.

You want to swear but that's both sinful and extremely unladylike. Instead the stress keeps building inside. Your mind wanders back to Dr. Brinner, the one who put the idea into your parents' heads.

What had he said about it? Migraines? Mental health changes? It doesn't sound the absolute worst. Unless those are really, really bad mental health changes. He'd also almost sounded afraid of the people who practiced. But if they're doing Xerneas's work they can't be bad people, right?

'If you need help, call out for Lila Takeda.'

The thought hangs like a noose around your neck. You could end this now. Damn yourself to temptation and your own will. Maybe you'll avoid the Cocoon. Maybe you won't.

There's a tiny little bit of horror in you that you can't quite stamp out. That the person who wakes up won't be the same as the one who went in. You blame it on Lyra's anti-psychic rants. She said they could change you. She never considered that you would want to be changed. And Cuicatl showed that not all psychics are bad.

Cuicatl. If you could scream out for Miss Takeda and get an answer, would Cuicatl answer if you called? You don't even know where she is in Alola. The news said she was in Melemele during The Blackout, but weeks have passed since then.

Look at you. Hoping a human sacrificing lesbian will save you from your own parents.

Human sacrifice.

You open up your copy of the Decalibres. It's easy to find since it's almost the only book left on your shelf.

You flip through the first book: Genesis. Your namesake. There it is. The story of a prophet commanded to sacrifice his child. He built the altar and drew the knife, but just before he stabbed he was stopped by Xerneas. It was just a test of loyalty. To see if he would really give anything, as a true disciple should. And then he was rewarded for one hundred generations.

Is this like that? Just a test? If your father will do anything to save his daughter and follow Xerneas's commands, he doesn't need to go through with it. Xerneas will intervene and fix you and then everything will be fine.

Everything will be fine.

But what if it isn't? What if mental health effects means, like, you're stuck with the mind of a child forever? Or that you spend every minute wanting to kill yourself? Or that you can't remember your own name? What if something goes wrong and you aren't even straight at the end?

No. You… you want this. You should want this. No more temptation. You could finally, um, create life. Like you're supposed to. The gross images Miss Rivers showed you of male bits flash to mind and you do your best to push them back out. Yuck. That's. People are supposed to like that? Why? At least girls are pretty. Are expected to be pretty. And graceful. And well behaved. Boys are boys. Why would…

…well, you'll find out.

You flop backwards onto your bed with a dramatic huff. You should want this but you don't. But you can't really trust yourself to know what's right because Yveltal has corrupted you twice, once when you were born a woman and again when she made you a lesbian.

There's another passage in the Decalibres that comes to mind, but you're too tired to get up and get the book for the exact words. There's a man with the gift of prophecy who realizes that the only way to save his people is to sacrifice his own life. He spends the whole night bargaining and pleading with Xerneas, begging for anything else, but is met only with silence and the slow realization that He won't save him. That He gave him a choice. That it would be impossible to judge mortals if there weren't hard choices. The only way to true salvation was to accept his fate. And he did, he walked straight into a den of pyroar without looking back.

"Thy will be done," he said. And then he said no more.

You're supposed to be willing to be a martyr. That's what the Decalibres says over and over and over again. If Xerneas wants you to die then you die. If Xerneas wants you to suffer then you suffer. Everything has a higher purpose in the fight against The Wicked One, even if you can't see it.

"Thy will be done," you whisper. There's a terrible weight of finality to it. But it takes a burden off your heart. Like it or not, your choice is made.

Lyra, Levi: I hope someday you come to understand.

There's more noise in the house. Unfamiliar voices. People moving around.

It's time.

As you slowly lift yourself off the bed Oliver reluctantly crawls off of you. He looks up at you with big pouting eyes when you stand. You rub a hand against his forehead like he likes. He still looks stressed. Maybe he's picked up on yours.

"It'll be alright."

The psyduck does not look at all convinced.

"It's just—a little surgery. That's all. And then it will be done."

You sigh and turn away from his pouting face. What are you doing? He probably doesn't even understand you. Cloudy floats over. You extend a hand to shake one of his nubs, like Levi did in Malie a lifetime ago. He hesitantly accepts.

"Will you take good care of everyone if things go wrong?"

He bobbles up and down. You don't know if he knows what he's agreeing to. Besides, Ferny is the better team mom. Dad. Whatever, he's a leafeon. It's not as important as it is with people.

Why are you being so dramatic? It's just a change to how you see some people. You'll be the exact same afterwards, just purer.

Someone knocks on the door twice before immediately opening it. Father. And Red. The pyroar tilts her head and lazily regards you. Probably wants scratches. Now doesn't seem like the time.

"Are you ready?"

You freeze up. You want to say yes. Need to say yes. It's what Xerneas wants and even if this tears your mind apart that's still better than eternity away from the light of Xerneas.

You want to be good. You want to do what's right. You want to be better than Allana and Lyra and Cuicatl. You want to save them, but you have to save yourself first. And yet. At the very moment of truth you go still.

"I can carry you if you want," Father offers. "Like I used to when you were little."

You nod a fraction of an inch and he reaches down to pick you up. He audibly grunts but manages to lift you into his arms and start walking.

"Little bigger than the last time we did this."

You nod feebly, even if he can't see it. Why can't you say more? You should say more.

Father begins to gently run circles on your back. It all feels nice. Familiar. Peaceful. Your body slowly relaxes inch by inch.

You knew Father still worked out, but this is a lot for him. Have you just lost that much weight? You haven't had access to a scale since December.

He finally sets you down on your feet in front of the conference room. The one where you met Miss Rivers and Dr. Brinner months ago. It's better lit now. Less menacing. And yet you're still far more nervous than you were for the other meetings.

It doesn't matter. None of it matters. This is the path you've chosen. This is the path you have to take.

He kisses you on the forehead and you lean in to the touch. "Just remember, tomorrow everything goes back to normal. You just have to get through today."

Normal. You miss normal. Walking outside and feeling the wind in your hair. Picking your own food. Playing with your full team whenever you want. Seeing people more than once or twice a day.

Being able to be around your brother.

Just one more day, and then you can have it all. It's enough to get you to open the door and walk into the room without being pushed or carried.

Mother is inside talking to an unfamiliar man with a Russian accent. His hair is graying and he has thick, bushy eyebrows. When he turns and smiles you can see that his teeth are crooked and almost bulging out of his mouth.

"Genesis, yes? Good to meet you. My name is Gregori. I will help you today."

Something sets you on edge. Probably just Dr. Brinner's warning. That this man has no conscience. But he's doing Xerneas's work. Better for him to be on your side than The Enemy's. And he seems friendly enough, just…

Something doesn't feel right. No. That's fear talking. You've gone too far, come too close to everything being good again, to back out now. You do your best to push it out of your mind as you sit down next to Father.

Gregori turns towards your parents. "I am changing sexual orientation. Anything specific you want while I'm doing it? Can make crushes, fixations, dislikes. Is there a man we are customizing her to?"

Your parents share a glance. "Just the orientation," Father says. "As long as the rest is, uh, normal, I don't care. And no crushes for now."

Gregori nods. "Can do. Will keep things common, normal." He looks towards you with an appraising eye, seeming to look over every square inch of your body. You do your best to retain eye contact and not to squirm. No need to be rude. Maybe… maybe you'll even like this sort of things tomorrow.

"Anything else to change while I'm here?"

"She might be autistic," Mother says. "We've never had her tested because it would be embarrassing if it got out. People would start asking which side it came from. Could you fix that? It would make her fit in better."

What. You've never heard that. Yes, you've always been different, but. Having a label feels weird. And you don't even really have time to think about it before it will be gone.

"Difficult. I could do it, but not now. I will have to come back."

"Good. And if that works, our son—"

"No," Father sternly interrupts.

"No?"

"No. If something went wrong and he was unable to run the business it would be the end of my bloodline's dominance. I won't risk it."

Mother reluctantly nods. "Fine. Could you do something about our other daughter at least? She's violent and deceitful. Can't trust her around our other children."

"Personality is hard. I could put triggers instead, make it impossible for her to harm or lie."

"That would be great."

"Good. Can schedule when this is done."

"I'll think it over after this is done," Father interjects. "I'm not sold on doing this unless absolutely necessary."

Gregori shrugs. "If you want. But there are no risks if they do not fight. If they fight? No guarantee." He turns back to you for the first time in a while. "Do not fight, no problems. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Don't fight. Can you really trust yourself? Deep breaths. You can do this. Tomorrow you can run and eat ice cream and cuddle Ferny and Bubbles for as long as you want. Just have to make it through today.

"Wait, can we maybe go back to preferences?" Mother asks. What? You thought you were done with that. "Neither of her main crushes have been the kind of girls I would want my son to marry."

"How so?"

"Well, one is literally a deformed Aztec. The other is, well, fine enough, but she's also a recent immigrant. Could you, I don't know, do something about that?"

"Make her intolerant of other races? Yes, I could."

Holy crap they're really. Um. Do you get a say in this? Because this goes beyond fixing you.

"No, not quite like that. I don't want a racist as a daughter. Just maybe make her not want to be intimate with, um, people who aren't." She throws her hands up in frustration. "You get it, right?"

"No." Father says. "Imagine if the other Six Families learned of that request. Best to leave it be."

"I know, but—"

"They wouldn't even be bad mates for a son. The Aztec's blindness is unfortunate, but her elemental bloodline would be useful. Imagine being able to hear the other side's thoughts in negotiations! My sister may have had the right idea on that."

Right. Your cousin can do stuff with the wind because of your uncle. Not very much. She insists she doesn't use it to cheat at golf. Almost clubbed you over the head when you asked.

"And Miss Miura has valuable family connections. I wouldn't want my firstborn to marry her, but a second born? That would be useful."

And they're both really smart? And kind, if mischievous. Well, Lyra's more cynical than mischievous. (Cuicatl has her terrifying moments, too.)

"Criminal connections," Mother huffs.

"Useful nonetheless. My point stands, her choice in partners isn't worth correcting. Just take her current interests and make them more masculine."

What would that even be like? You've tried not thinking too hard about what you like in girls. Hair? Scent? Clothes? Height? Would you like boys who are even taller than you, then? And what's there even to like about boy hair?

"Is that settled, then?"

"Yes," Father says.

"Good, now." He reaches to his belt and two pokémon materialize.

A strange brown pokémon with a mushroom head and glowing green eyes floats up to you. A kadabra stretches out beside it.

There's no help coming. No miracle at the last minute. Just you. just you and a choice that isn't a choice at all, because on one side is eternal torment and on the other is… you don't know. Torment for now, maybe. Hearing them talk about all the other things they could change made you think. At what point are you a different person? You'd still have the same soul, right? And he said personalities were hard to change.

Is this a choice between eternal torture and not existing anymore? How did you get here?

Lila. Takeda. Two words and you get to live on Earth and suffer in eternity. Or you can meet the cat's eyes and step into the unknown. You take a deep breath. Maybe you're just being overly dramatic. Father always does his research. If this wasn't actually safe Gregori wouldn't be here. And none of the changes are that big. Then tomorrow you can go outside and live with the best of both worlds.

You slowly raise up your head and gaze into the strange pokémon's green eyes. Will this be like with the hypno where you just wake up in a different place like no time passed? No. As the eyes grow deeper and deeper you get sucked into a world of memories.

The door is unlocked. You don't know if you should be surprised since you've never even tried to open it before. On the roof you're hit with the smell of salty air and the sounds of wingull down on the beach. The ocean stretches out almost to the horizon, only broken by the faint silhouette of Lanakila in the distance.

It's a good view. Maybe you should've come here before. Lyra seems to think the same, leaning on the railing and letting the wind run through her hair without a care in the world. She's wearing the same outfit she wore to the dance. It'll make it easier to remember how she looks forever, even if she never comes back.

You walk over to the railing and stand by her in silence. You should say something. Time is running out fast and while she can text you on the trail she'll have bigger things to worry about and new friends you'll never meet. Someday she might forget to stop texting altogether.

"I guess you're never going to make a move, are you?" Lyra finally asks.

"What?" What is she talking about? Move on wha—

Her lips meet yours and your mind stops working. Then it starts up again going way too fast. You've never been kissed before and it feels good but it shouldn't feel good but it's Lyra and she's pretty and you like it and you're going to burn with Yveltal and no you aren't you hate this hate this hate this but you still don't pull away. Why don't you pull away?

The door swings open. "Girls," Stefan says. "You really shouldn't… be… on… the…"

No. That will hardly do.

What?

Temptation. The process is fragile. I could not do it a second time. Anything that could tempt you back must go.

I didn't like—

You cannot lie to me in your own mind.

It's a good view. Maybe you should've come here before.

The door swings open. "Genesis," Stefan says. "You really shouldn't… be… on… the…"

You freeze up in shame. No. this isn't—why are you ashamed? You didn't do anything. Nothing happened. Yet there's a burning throughout your body of shame and something else. Something stronger.

Practically writes itself.

You freeze up in shame. It's not what it looks like! You just needed privacy and. Um. You're not sure why you thought you could do that on the roof? You have your room and, I mean, you can probably do it in your room. You don't actually know how it works. But you did it here and um.

Why did

Where are

Stop fighting me.

Fighting? Who are—

Who am—

Let's just move on.

"You're going to homecoming, right?"

Lyra leans onto the locker next to you and looks at you expectantly.

"Wasn't planning on it. Dances are…" full of bright lights and loud music and crowds of bodies and the smell of sweat and other terrible stuff. Helping out with prom as part of student council terrified you into swearing off dances, and student council, forever. "Not my thing. But are you going?"

"I don't have a date, no." Her smile turns almost predatory. Was that the wrong question? Should you apologize. "But there's nothing stopping us from going. As friends."

"Um."

"Janet," the blonde from the lunch table (right?), "just found out that she'll be on the mainland that weekend, so she gave her ticket to me."

"I—"

"Please. For me?"

She looks terribly anxious and she just got happy and her hair looks very cute today and you just can't find it in yourself to say no.

You don't know many boys. Hard to fill in gaps.

Where—oh, Gregori. Um. Is that a problem?

No. Solves two problems.

"You're going to homecoming, right?"

Kekoa leans onto the locker next to you and looks at you expectantly.

"I don't have a date, no." His smile turns almost predatory. Was that the wrong question? Should you apologize. "But I'd like to fix that."

He looks so confident and he smells like. Something good.

What

Why are you

Why is he even here? This is a girl's school?

Stop. Fighting. You might tear something.

Wait. No. I'm not trying. I—

Don't think about the flaws. It could undo the whole thing.

"I guess you're never going to make a move, are you?" Kekoa finally asks.

He leans in and presses your lips against yours. For a moment it feels like the whole world stops. Then you lean in. It's kind of cute that he's shorter—you wish he was taller. Or manlier. When your chests press together you feel it, you feel the truth. The world stops again, this time in horror.

You press him—her—back as forcefully as you can and she almost falls over the edge of the roof. "Ew! I'm not a lesbian!" you shout.

But when you look to the side you see Stefan standing in the open door and know that the damage is done.

Ew.

I'm not a lesbian.

But—

No—

That's why—

That's why you're here.

Yes.

A wave of disgust courses through you as your eyes flick between Kekoa—between whatever her name is—and Stefan. Horror builds in your gut and crawls under your skin at just the idea that you could be like that. A degenerate, filthy queer.

I don't hate gay people, I just want to save them.

Stop. Fighting. Any damage at this point is on you.

No. You can't let that happen.

You sit back and watch as memories come and then go with a deeply growing sense of loss. A scene of you and Lyra—an acquaintance from school in your bedroom. She's mad about her brother fighting—her brother got into a fight in school. You talk it out and then complain about another girl's fashion sense.

Acquaintances come and go and you have a feeling that there was something, someone important in these memories. You just can't remember. Who they were. Why they had to go.

Then it's working.

"Xerneas loves us as he made us and He wants us to be happy. He wants to gift us an overflowing pot of blessings. He wants us to be prosperous. He wants us to be happy. But we have forgotten His commands. We do not live as He made us to live."

Your attention is taken away from the sermon by Lyra stretching out and awkwardly leaning against you. Is she using a new shampoo? Her hair smells like tea leaves today. "If He wants us to be happy, why doesn't He give his gifts to everyone?" she whispers, barely audible even to you. "Why does He make some people suffer?"

No. There's. There's no one there. Just you and your parents and Levi. It's Levi leaning on your shoulder and you wrap a protective arm around your little brother as the service goes on.

Xerneas made us. Xerneas wants us to be happy. He wants us to live as he made us.

As long as we do not stray.

Don't… stray? Oh. You were.

You're—a degenerate filthy queer.

Those words. They're from somewhere.

The rooftop. Right.

Why do they feel wrong?

People aren't filthy. They just need saved—

Again with the fighting. There will be problems now. Stop before they grow worse.

That shuts you up. The memories keep flying by, emptier and emptier. Sitting in the back of class with no friends. A boy (Thomas?) in fourth grade marrying you on the playground. Running around another playground alone. All so much worse from the feeling that something was here, something you liked or loved but it's just—

A searing pain brings all thoughts to a stop. For a long while you linger in the thoughtless pain until slowly surfacing.

I told you that would happen. Stay still and go along.

Your memories shift to more recent ones. The island challenge with Cuicatl and Kekoa.

Kekoa.

You kissed him, right? And then… then why would you travel with—

This time it feels like lightning striking your brain, spreading out little scars everywhere from the center.

One second. I can fix this.

Your memories shift to more recent ones. The island challenge with Cuicatl and Allana.

Allana.

There's something fam—

—il—

—iar—

About her.

You can feel more emptiness. Something else stripped away. No. You shouldn't think about that. Just… breathe.

Just breathe.

As much as you can while trapped in your own mind.

You're lying down in a tent next to Cuicatl—next to a girl—next to Cuicatl—

No. No. No. No. No. No.

This is—

You wake up alone. You traveled alone. You went to school alone. You played alone.

You've always been alone.

No.

Only here.

You know before, before there was

Something begins to shift at your core. Not just in your memories. Every fiber of your being screams out in pain and your will falters.

Just at your lowest you have a hazy memory of a field of long yellow grasses with a disembodied voice drifting through it.

"No. The brionne becomes a girl when it evolves. Organs change and everything."

Xerneas loves us.

There was a zoo with a psychic working there. Had him ask some delibird what their sex was because they'd need surgery to tell. Found out that the delibird themselves didn't know. Just kind of guessed."

Xerneas made us.

"You think Xerneas created everything right?"

Xerneas wants us to live how we were made.

"Then if Xerneas made everything—"

If Xerneas made delibird. If Xerneas made you. If Xerneas wants you to be happy.

If Xerneas doesn't want you to be alone.

It might not be principle. It might just be pain. But for one small moment you come to the awful realization that you've made a mistake.

If you need help, call out to Lila Takeda.

Li—

No.

—la—

Absolutely not.

…ta…

Why did you. Why were you. What was the name? Why was it safe?

You cannot back out now.

No. The name is…

There's another pressure on your soul and you scream again. Somewhere in it the words take on one half-forgotten shape after another.

And then.

No, who are—

The pain and loneliness and pressure keep building and building. When next you peak out thunder rolls. You're lying down in a clearing with dry, yellow grass. You look up to see a dark-skinned girl with green hair sitting beside you. "Sleep well?"

"Wha…"

This was where you caught the elekid, right?

Alone.

Then why.

Oh.

You… you recognize her. From. The tent? And this field. And the board Miss Rivers had you yell at about your whores and. Suddenly you fully remember why you're here and mostly remember who you're dealing with.

"Cuicatl Ichtaca?" You phrase it as a question because you aren't entirely sure.

"Yes."

"Are you… real?"

She shrugs. "Sort of. We're in your mindscape right now. I… sort of know what I'm doing from being in my brother's, but not entirely. Never done this with someone who wasn't my twin. Probably can't do this for long. Especially with a kadabra on the other side."

Thunder rumbles overhead and the sky flickers with pulsing pink light.

"What can I do?" Some part of you remembers that doing way less stressful things than this gave her migraines for days. You have a feeling that if the sky shatters and the pokémon get in it could kill her outright. Or hurt you like… like you're being hurt now.

"It's your mindscape," Cuicatl repeats. Which isn't helpful. (Was her voice always so lively?) "You have the home field."

"I don't even know how to fight!" It comes out as a whine. "Every time I've even thought about it I got hurt. Now—

Now—

Arms wrap around you. "It's okay. I'm here."

You blink. Did something happen. It felt… the sky pulses and thunder rumbles. A set of cracks now line the clouds.

"I can help with doing it. I just need you to let me in. And I need you to want to fight. Want them out. Want what they did undone. Can you do that?"

For what feels like the first time in your life you have a choice to fight. To tell people no. And it's terrifying. What happens if you lose? What happens if you're wrong and you get sent to the Cocoon? Your eyes settle on Cuicatl. You still don't entirely know what she is to you. The very recent stuff is hazy but. She cared enough to risk herself to come. And from the words Miss Rivers had you say, the hatred you were made to have…

Everything feels so lonely. But you remember her. And you can make a guess. You lean in, press your lips against hers, and feel the world come undone as Cuicatl stiffens at the touch. Oh crap were you—

Were you—

Breathe.

The voice comes from inside / in front of / beneath / behind / above you. It's gentler than Gregori's booming, consuming presence. Even more omnipresent.

Had to link minds to fight. Just um. Stay there? Maybe try to help?

You become aware of what she means. Somewhere at the edge of your being is another little world. At the thought of it your mind is drawn there and sees the nature of it. Pain. Hope. Pain. A void to the side where it feels like something should be. There's a collage of memories on the walls. Different colors of memories. Some are all dark. Only sounds, smells, tastes, textures, and feelings. Others are dimmer with a pink tint. When you spend too much time looking at one you get sucked into a conversation where you're a teenage girl talking to a duck. It's almost by accident you get kicked out and look at the third and fourth set. The third is stronger with a green tint. You try not to look too close. And the fourth is—

Heat pain heat dry thirsty fear grief fear how dare they damn you no please don't leave me oh gods they're all gone they're all heat pain thirst despair hunger despair hunger despair spite

—you don't know. They slip away the moment you get close.

This is Cuicatl's mind. You blush. Oh. Wrong way. You turn your perception around and head out to wherever she's fighting. The air around her is a buzz saw of bloody winds and sharpened spikes of bone. She wields the little cracks in the world that hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt when you look at them like swords and you wince in pain every time they strike something. Two presences poke against her shield with overwhelming force and press it back, but then the presences have to slink off themselves with blurry tendrils seeping away from their mind. Cuicatl stands resolute in the center, never flinching when the jabs come within a few feet of her. The girl's clothing shifts as well from brightly colored woven outfits to an orange t-shirt and jeans that stirs up something in you to golden chains and tattered purple rags to a strange armor made of black scales. Her hair practically glows.

She's gorgeous. You don't remember much of your relationship, just the earliest parts, the ones that Gregori probably didn't try too hard to remove. Whatever you did to get her, you were damn lucky.

The presences suddenly retreat and you're left alone with your girlfriend inside her reality-breaking armor.

She turns to you and you feel things separate out. Like slipping out of a tight hug you hadn't even noticed. The world runs together and you're back on the grassy hill with Cuicatl. She breaks the kiss. And she's blushing furiously.

"You know we weren't dating, right?"

Your heart falls. "We weren't?" But she's so cute and there's an aching void of loneliness everywhere else in your mind and Xerneas wants you to be happy.

"No."

You channel the confidence of the boy-who-was-not-a-boy did. "Could we fix that?"

Her blush only grows. "Your mind is really fucked up right now. Don't make big decisions for a bit."

She just told you to make one. You chose to fight.

Cuicatl's form flickers and she slumps towards the ground. "Need to go," she mutters. "Sorry to…"

"Wait!"

And then she's gone, leaving you alone in the horrible wrongness of your new mind.

You made your choice.

You're afraid

late

You're

you made it

late

far too

late.