Chapter Twelve: Mewtwo

[WARNING: Things get a little dark in this chapter, with memories of torture and mind invasions… If you've seen the movies, you should be fine, but heads up.]

Mewtwo sensed the human come in, but didn't want to turn away from the photograph he was studying quite yet. It was an image of three humans; one, he clearly recognized as the boy's father. The man was barely changed, although something about his smile made him look…younger. Or perhaps, happier. The father's hand was on the shoulder of a young human, very small, that had to be the boy himself. And at the detective's side was a human female, with dark skin and a shining smile that looked exactly like her son's. This could only be the mother, whose death had affected both the father and the boy so tremendously.

Memorizing the photograph best he could, Mewtwo set it back down, but found he still couldn't draw his eyes away. He spoke anyway. I sensed your conflict. Are you all right?

A lengthy sigh came from the boy as took out his Pokedex-phone and set it aside on a table. "Yeah, fine, just talking with my Dad." He yawned, and then headed to his closet. Mewtwo watched him as the boy fumbled through the fabrics in his closet before dragging out a large blanket and a…a…

What isthat?Mewtwo asked, staring skeptically at the item.

"It's a beanbag," the boy answered, sliding it out onto the floor.

It looks like an overweight Trubbish.

The 'beanbag' in question was some kind of flappy sack, too heavy for the boy to lift. After the human shot Mewtwo a scowl, he pushed it by the desk and threw the blanket over it. "I'm just expanding your options," the boy said pointedly as he rearranged the blanket and snatched up a pillow. "Pikachu likes to sleep on this thing all the time. I want you to be comfortable."

Ah, so thatwas the purpose of this human contraption. Mewtwo eyed it with new reservations. He had never slept on anything so…unstable. When Mewtwo needed sleep, his only requirement was that no one could find him where he rested. He regularly chose a stone cavern floor in the wild, or somewhere underwater. If he was exploring a human city, he would find some concrete corner on a rooftop or in an alley. He didn't need comfort.

"Hungry?" the boy asked, interrupting Mewtwo's standoff with the sack. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a plastic package. "I'm not supposed to have food in my room, but I always have a pack of lava cookies for emergencies. Want one?"

Mewtwo lifted his chin. No.

He kept thinking about how this was a bad idea. Twenty years of isolation screamed at him to never sleep where a human was ambient and aware. He would awaken in a test tube, or imprisoned in armor like Giovanni's, or something.

The boy stuffed the little food circle in his mouth, getting crumbs on his face. He was so casual that Mewtwo felt foolish for believing this human—this child—to be a threat. The boy was right, this was the safest place he could currently rest. He knew he was tired. He didn't have the energy to shut his eyes yet still be aware, every second being alert for anyone that might stumble upon him. If he wanted to catch the human who had stolen his cells, Mewtwo needed full rest. And he knew this boy was trustworthy.

"I can get you something else to eat, if you want," the boy offered.

Mewtwo simply shook his head. He had, much to his gratitude, inherited some gene from Mew that allowed him to survive on minimal sleep and nourishment. He barely ever ate, and he only required a few hours of sleep each day, if that. He had become exhausted from pushing himself so hard the last few days, and his body demanded it finally be allowed to rest. But he had swiped some provisions back at the reserve, so there was no current need for food.

The boy sat down on his desk, munching on the 'lava cookies' while Mewtwo approached the beanbagthe boy had made up for him. Yet he studiously ignored it, and sat down on the floor cross-legged, and turned his head up to the boy.

What did your father have to say? If the older human suspected his son's interactions with Mewtwo, then he would like to know.

The boy swallowed his cookie. "He told me he has to stop looking into the investigation of your cells."

Mewtwo straightened up. Why?One reason Mewtwo had agreed to work with this boy was his connection to the human police department. Mewtwo would never reach out to them for help,but that didn't mean they couldn't be useful.

Tim boy waved a hand. "The trainers visiting the city." He gave Mewtwo an odd expression. Perhaps it appeared so because his face was covered in crumbs. "The trainers looking for you, that is. The police are having to keep a special eye on them, including my Dad."

Mewtwo scowled. Curse those annoying humans. They gathered around him like Volbeat after the scent of an Illumise. He'd had more than his fill of humans thinking they could take him on, and they always met the same end; destruction. They have no idea what they are getting into.

The child tilted his head. "They admire you. The most powerful Pokémon to ever live? You're every trainer's dream, Mewtwo. And while they want to catch you and have you on their team, almost all trainers love and respectPokémon. They would never treat you like how other people have treated you, like Dr. Laurent and Mr. Clifford. In fact, they'd probably be enraged if they knew about it."

Mewtwo instinctively wanted to snap 'Then where were they all the times I was being tortured?'but then his chest tightened up. They had been there, for at least some of the times. When Giovanni was trying to break Mewtwo at Mt. Quena, Ash and his friends had been there to help him escape. When Mewtwo was imprisoned by Dr. Laurent, it was the detective's Pikachu that had disabled the psychic restraints to free him.

Some humans didcare about Pokémon. If that weren't true…Mewtwo wouldn't be here right now. Mewtwo knew that at least a fewdid, but he viewed them as more of the exceptions than the rule. His experiences had taught him that. Yet the boy was certain that most of the trainers were altruistic like Ash, wanting Pokémon to be treated fairly rather than just using them.

Mewtwo disagreed. Some humans cared, but they were like the small handful of shiny Pokémon amongst the vast majority of others. This boy, though…he would be among the few.

Mewtwo decided to conciliate the human, however. He had no desire to argue with him; the boy was just naïve. I suppose they would,he settled to say.

The boy seemed to accept that response, and continued to his next point. "Oh, and also the fact that you're cloned from Mew is amazing, too," the boy went on. "I grew up with legends of Mew, about whether it's extinct or not. A lot of people thought it didn't exist, until you showed up." The child turned his curious eyes back to Mewtwo. "Do you know anything about it?"

Mewtwo was still pondering—though doubtfully—the concept that out of the millions of trainers in the world, mostof them actually cared about their Pokémon. He was sure that it was ridiculously idealistic and false, but it was an idea that seemed almost otherworldly to him. He answered the boy without thought. I met it.

The boy choked on his cookie, and Mewtwo turned his attention back to the child in concern. "You actually metMew?"

Mewtwo, chasing his hated adversary across the stormy sky, determined to prove his worth by smiting his original. But the little Pokémon, old yet youthful, ancient yet spry, and as impossible to grasp as the wind, avoided each of his attacks with ease and even dared to taunt him with laughs and pretend hiding. When he finally landed a hit, and the air seemed to pause as if it too was shocked as to what just happened, suddenly Mew's own attack came from the clouds and struck Mewtwo down with power he had never felt before. It was painful, but he embraced it. At last, a foe that could prove a challenge to him, and when he defeated Mew once and for all…nothing would stand in his way.

Mewtwo blinked away the memories that even now were so strong and overpowering. Until he had met his original, all of his foes had been easily defeated. Then Mew had come, and it had been a trial of his ultimate strength. The battle had been between old and new, nature and ingenuity, good and evil, and had ended in a way neither of them expected.

Once,Mewtwo granted. Long ago.

Thatwas one thing that angered him. Once Mew was assured that Mewtwo was no longer going to destroy the earth, it had left and never come back. Never mind that Mewtwo had questions about his existence. Never mind that Mewtwo suddenly had to care for his clones in a world that was hostile to them. Never mind that, despite his posturing, it was still an unfamiliar world that he was alone in and needed help to understand. That was all beneath Mew's concern. It didn't care that Mewtwo was its very own blood; it had left. Mewtwo only ever saw it in his dreams now.

"It's alive?"Tim gasped. "It must be ancient. What was it like?"

When Mewtwo had dreamed of meeting his original, he had first pictured something…solemn. Wise. An antediluvian master, with millennia of experience and knowledge. Then Mew had actuallyshown up, and proceeded to trampoline on its own bubbles, cast off Mewtwo's threats, and force him to engage in a game of tag.

It is unlike anything you would expect,Mewtwo said dryly.

"Wow," breathed the child, so reverently that Mewtwo almost rolled his eyes. "If people knew for sure that Mew was alive…well, it has tons of people searching for it already. It's said its DNA has traces of all Pokémon in it."

All the more reason to retrieve my cells, Mewtwo snarled. Though he didn't much care whether or not his original was hunted by humans (Mew could certainly handle itself, Mewtwo had learned that the hard way), that was hisDNA, too. He had countless reasons for wanting it back, but the boy's words were bringing one fear to the forefront of his mind. The power within them must not fall back into human hands.

The boy tilted his head again. "Why? What's the worst someone could do with a bit of DNA?"

Mewtwo stared at the boy for a moment. The fear gnawing in his chest constricted him. He, himself, his own flesh, was living proof of the worst that humans could do with the precious cells. After all, what destructive force was more vicious or merciless than him?

He had been through much abuse, but one of the worst possible threats would be if another one of him was cloned. The pain that Pokémon would feel, and the harm it would inflict on others, would be catastrophic. And if more were cloned, then what would Mewtwo be? How could he be recognized as a living individual if his flesh could be assembled at will?

Mewtwo instinctively wanted to beat this fear down but it only became more poignant. There was some spark in his psyche, and the words made their way to the boy's mind without Mewtwo's intention. They could clone more of me.

Mewtwo almost shook his head to clear away the anxiety, but was a bit too dumbfounded by this new sensation in his mind. It appeared that he was starting to know the boy well enough to navigate his mind better than most creatures. The only other person Mewtwo had gotten that familiar with was Ash Ketchum.

He supposed, now that he thought about it, that such a development had become inevitable when he agreed to work with the boy. It would probably be of use to them. Mewtwo could see the benefits of this salutary extra link to the child. But still, he didn't like getting tooclose to mankind. Otherwise, he unintentionally said things like this.

The human paused mid-bite of his food. Slowly he drew the cookie away from his mouth. Mewtwo's fingers curled into fists, frustrated with how his words had spilled out of him. His insecurities had gotten the best of him, and not for the first time. He had learned, after the events of Mt. Quena, that he belonged in this world as much as any other person or Pokémon. He tried to remind himself of that, although most days he still felt outcasted and directionless. He also knew, as well as his own breathing, that if there were another Mew clone, they would feel the same as he had—did. That amount of power, whether in the hands of humans or rogue like he had once been, would be devasting to the whole world.

"That's why you're so determined to get them back," the human murmured.

Mewtwo flicked his tail and forced his hands to unclench. When I awoke, I was…Lost. Hurt. He had felt like something important had been taken from him, leaving a gaping hole that he had no idea how to fill. …confused. I lashed out, and I did things that I regret now. I cannot allow my mistakes to be repeated.

The human barely knew of Mewtwo's past atrocities, and yet he still had a healthy bit of fear for him. Mewtwo was trying to keep a balance of not lying, while still conserving his precious privacy. Now that the boy knew what was at stake, that another Mewtwo could be created, he should be much more motivated to retrieve the cells. Not that the child wasn't working hard already, but his father had set aside the mission. Mewtwo had to ensure the boy wouldn't either.

"That's what you fear," the boy whispered, drawing Mewtwo out of his thoughts.

Mewtwo looked up at once. What?

"That's what you fear," the boy repeated. "Humans making another clone, and hurting others…like how you did."

The human said this like it was some grand revelation, that Mewtwo should fearsomething, but in truth, Mewtwo was more familiar with terror than he would ever let on. His fear when he had first woken up and reached out, knowing that something was wrong and trying to fix it. When Giovanni had told him he was only a tool, and Mewtwo had desperately hoped the scorching betrayal wasn't true. When his clones had been captured by the psychotic Team Rocket. When he had traded himself to Giovanni to save them, and had been so sure he was about to become a mindless slave, but instead chosen to fight back, though it meant certain death. When the female doctor had taken his cells from him, and he had been helpless to fight back, panicked that they were already cloning him while he was trapped in that abominable vat.

Mewtwo's pride, however, kicked in. I am powerful, but also astute, he said pointedly. It would be foolish if I was not wary of another one of myself entering this world. It would be one of the few creatures that could pose a threat to me.

"Right," the boy said, and Mewtwo did not appreciate his doubting tone.

I fear nothing,Mewtwo insisted again, glaring at the boy.

"If you say so," the boy shrugged.

Mewtwo was about to object when the boy yawned widely, and something about watching it made Mewtwo realize he was exhausted as well.

That is enough for tonight, Mewtwo said firmly. You wanted me to come here for rest, so rest we shall. Both of us. Sleep, human.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it, I was just hungry," the boy. He began to close the pack of cookies, before pausing for a second and then holding it out to Mewtwo. "You sureyou don't want some?"

Mewtwo glared until the human backed down. "Suit yourself." He stuffed them back into the desk drawer. "But you're welcome to them if you want."

Mewtwo curled himself up on the floor, wrapping his long tail around himself. He lay there while the human fussed about the room, slipping out at one point to use the 'bathroom.' Mewtwo refused to sleep until the human did, for as much as he knew he wasn't in danger, he would feel better that way, so he merely shut his eyes and listened to the human's meandering. He had to admit, he liked this much better than the outdoors. The floor didn't drain heat from his body like the stone and rock he usually slept on, and there was no constant breeze on his skin. The walls around him muffled outside noise, which helped him relax as Mewtwo tended to jump to awareness at every little noise, especially when about to sleep.

He was adapted to the outdoors, but he had been created in sterile labs, built for sophistication. The technology and complexity was something he understood, and it felt calming to have this all at hand. Mewtwo may have a distaste for almost all humans, but their systems and homes were another matter. Out of all the possible places he could have been ensconced, this one was…quite pleasant.

Finally the human returned and settled into his bed. Mewtwo kept his eyes closed, imitating sleep as he felt the boy's mind dim out of consciousness.

"Goodnight, Mewtwo," the boy whispered suddenly, causing Mewtwo's eyes to open to the dark to look at him. The child was entirely asleep, cozy in his slumber. He was completely at ease that Mewtwo, a dangerous, powerful Pokémon rested in his room. So why was Mewtwo still so uneasy to rest in the presence of one human boy?

Even in these somnolent conditions, Mewtwo still couldn't remove that nagging feeling that he wasn't safe. His gaze trailed away from the boy and landed on the…beanbag.

After a moment's thought, Mewtwo caved a little and lifted the blanket the boy had laid out off of it. Mewtwo wrestled with it, wrapping it around himself and cushioning his head by wadding it up. Sinking into the warmth that slowly made his muscles relax and calmed his mind, he counted his own breaths until finally, he slipped into sleep.

OOO

RELEASE ME!

Mewtwo screamed with every cell in his brain. But it was of no use; none of the despicable humans outside even reacted. None of them heard. This cage, this prison of advanced technology and design…it neutralized his psychic abilities. His power, which usually was so interwoven with his own life force, was inactive. Forced down as if the weight of the ocean were forbidding it to move. Mewtwo felt like only a third of his mind was aware, suspending him in a semi-awake stake. It limited him in ways he did not know he could even be limited; his thoughts, his body, his psychic abilities, even his senses to know what was happening around him. The closest memory he could compare this feeling to were the two machines Giovanni had designed specifically to subdue him, years ago…

His freedom was taken, his powers were taken, his mind was taken, his own voice was taken, what would be next? His own thoughts kept circling back to 'must escape, must escape, must escape,' an instinct deep enough that it reacted automatically yet his consciousness was too weak to plan anything beyond that rudimentary response.

He needed to breath air again, to feel it on his skin, to stretch his body out and to sense the world around him with his psychic energy again. To inhale the force of all life and matter near him, and clear away this agony that fogged his brain. Without it, it was worse than being sightless, voiceless, deaf, and without any feeling at all. He would trade all his senses to get his psychic abilities back. He felt like a three-dimensional being, condensed and trapped in a two-dimensional world. He had no sense of time, as every second faded into the next, blurring into each other. Was he here for years, or only minutes?

"Life is wonderful."

He had once been told that, but he didn't know by whom, or when, or why. It was spoken in a gentle voice, a voice wasn't his and wasn't the voice of the humans outside. He knew it, though, it had haunted his dreams since before he could remember. It echoed deep within his mind now, and he wondered briefly where it had come from. Wondered if the person who had said it had considered these conditions. But with the humans chaining down his very thoughts, he couldn't sort out what were dreams, what were memories, and what was reality. He tried to determinedly to remember. He could remember…the laboratory in which he was born. Was he there now, and it had all been a dream? No, the young trainer dying in the crossfire energy blasts had to have been real. …Was it?

"Who am I? What am I?"

Mewtwo's own identitywas being torn apart within this containment! He fought against it again, trying so excruciatingly hard to break something—anything—with his psychic strength but it wouldn't work. The energy wouldn't come to his command like it once had so willingly, now forced into a lethargic state.

Mewtwo collapsed, breathing hard, gasping in the processed oxygen through the water. His advanced diverse DNA allowed him to breath liquid as easily as air, but this was different from any air or water he was used to. Even the oxygen levels were controlled…Mewtwo's breaths couldn't clear up the headache he had given himself, no matter how deeply he inhaled. His captors were trying to keep him unconscious as much as possible, weakenhim as much as possible.

He looked up through his little window to the rest of the world, to the freedom kept tauntingly visible and almost within reach. His prison guards were just on the other side, uniformed with white lab coats and equipped with vile human technology. Mewtwo saw the woman again. Her black hair and eyes that watched him like a ravenous Mareanie.

It took a moment for the memories he had of her to drift up to his consciousness. Since his capture, whether that had been days or decades ago, he had watched her with the other scientists, as much as he could with his minimal awareness and fogged mind. It was clear she was the leader, and so the most culpable of this situation. But it wasn't that which made her the biggest threat out of all of them. The other scientists, when they stood before Mewtwo's cage, kept their eyes down. They avoided his direct line of vision as much as possible, hiding away from his sight, only doing so clearly when they needed to. They flinched when Mewtwo looked at them, imprisoned though he was. But this one, this female, she was not afraid. She stood right before the glass, held his gaze, and grinned like a human child watching a rare Gyarados at a zoo exhibit. She would stay there, studying him for what seemed like hours, completely unintimidated.

Mewtwo vowed that whenhe escaped this place, she would learn proper fear.

Mewtwo glared mutinously at her, the one way he could fight back at the moment, but the decreased oxygen was taking effect on him. His vision went dark for a moment and his eyelids drooped, but he uncompromisingly pulled himself back to consciousness again.

When he looked back up, he saw that the woman was grinning as if the Gyarados had jumped through a hoop. She turned her head and said something to the other scientists but Mewtwo couldn't hear her. Before he could futilely make his dull mind wonder what she might be planning, there was a sudden, sharp pain in his side.

Mewtwo gasped, inhaling water—for a moment, in his shock, he choked on it and coughed it out—and taste-smelled something differentwithin it.

His blood.

Time froze. And then adrenaline surged through his body to give him coherent thought. His blood. His DNA. They had made him bleed.They had pierced his skin, with some extremely concentrated needle no doubt, to take his cells.

Mewtwo, all in one moment of incisive panic, kicked against the glass and managed to get a grip on his psychic powers. He tried to reach out, to shatter the cage and free himself. The water around him shook and the wires writhed, but then it all collapsed unto itself, like sand hit by an ocean wave. The energy was gone as quickly as it had come, sparked only by emotion and panic, but without air to support it, and with drugs and this cursed technology weighing it down, it vanished right from his grip. He was powerless.

They had milked him for his DNA. They had forced him to be a living donor, as if he were no more alive than a plant to be harvested. Stolen his cells from him as if he were a mere sack of flesh from which they could take what they wanted.

What would they do with his cells? The reason Giovanni had pursued Mewtwo so determinedly was because it would take years to clone another Mewtwo, if it was even possible, since Dr. Fuji was dead. But with Mewtwo's very cells, could Giovanni accomplish it?

How could this happen again? From the very beginning, Mewtwo had been used. As a science experiment, as a weapon, as a tool, as a slave…and here he was once more, when he had sworn he would never be again. His own cells harvested from him against his will, operated by these humans as if he were a mere object…

Darkness was beginning to wrap around him. He felt it dragging down his mind into deep blackness. His vision blurred, and his body refused to respond. No…no…he had to get back his cells before the humans could….could…. His consciousness was being forced down…

The memory changed, although Mewtwo's mind was in no state to recognize it.

::Humans are weak creatures, living off the backs of Pokémon,:: whispered his own voice.

::Pokémon are weak creatures, living off the backs of humans,:: whispered the new voice.

::The Pokémon allow themselves to be enslaved by the humans, obeying their whims and falling over in servitude. If Pokémon used their own wills and minds, as I do, then theycould easily be the ones in control. They cling to their humans, almost as if they are deluding themselves that they need the humans, that they rely on the humans, and fail to see how backwards that view is. How could the creatures that I have been created from be such miserable vermin? I will benothinglike them.::

::The humans are more advanced and yet allow Pokémon to live among them. Pokémon are here to be used, to progress our kind, but they are incapable of wielding their power to the full potential that humans could bring it to. If humans were in the bodies of Pokémon, and had the same abilities and strengths, humanity could be brought to its peak. We live side by side with Pokémon, yet the natural divisions between us hold us back. We need to destroy these divisions and unite.::

::Both humans and Pokémon are pathetic. They both should be destroyed, so that a superior race may take control of the earth. It will be a new era.::

::Both humans and Pokémon have strength, but humans have the better mind. The mind of the Pokémon should be cast out, so that the humans may take control. It will be a new era.

I will do this,:: the new voice said with conviction, :: I will start a new age that combines the strength of Pokémon and the superior human intelligence, not just how they work and live together, but how they aretogether.::

::These thoughts…:: Mewtwo whispered, but no one could hear him, ::these thoughts are not my own, yet they are infused with my own mind. How could they invade me this deeply? What am I if I cannot even have my own mind?::

The other thoughts were so familiar.Was that because they were, or because the wretched mind link melded them so closely to Mewtwo's? It horrified and sickened him how much these ideas mirrored his own, or at least, what his own used to be. The voice of Howard Clifford seeped into both Mewtwo's conscious and unconscious. The thoughts, the thoughts of Howard Clifford dominated his brain like flaming oil poured on top of water. They controlled his body, his actions, and Mewtwo was helpless but to watch through his own eyes as his own power was used by the human. His flesh which had been created by humans now belonged to a human.

Mewtwo had thought that though humans had created him, they could never enslave him. They could never control his will. He was a living, sentient, individual creature.

In this moment, he had never felt more wrong. He was a tool, a weapon like before. His soul, his mind, his free will, snipped away from his body and cast aside by another who used his flesh like a mere lifeless puppet, or an empty vessel to be filled, ignoring the life already in it.

Mewtwo fought against it with everything he had, his own mind trying to rip Howard Clifford's to shreds. But it was of no use. He couldn't live like this, couldn't exist like this, he had to fight, had to escape. But this situation plagued him wherever he went. Dr. Fuji—Giovanni—Dr. Laurent—Howard Clifford—human after human, imprisoning him—

STOP!

Mewtwo shot up and felt something constrain against his body. At once his psychic powers responded to his instinctual whims and ripped into it, tearing it to shreds like a foe he battled for survival, like how he had wanted for Howard Clifford.

"Mewtwo—MEWTWO!"Mewtwo catapulted back so fast he landed on the beanbag, which both cushioned and destabilized his fall. He scurried up, his wildly swinging tail knocking against something as he tried to find his footing and balance with both his legs and his arms, frantically looking side to side, expecting attackers and needles and mechanical hands to come and force him down once again.

His gaze landed on the human. The boy held his hands up, showing that he had no weapon or Pokémon to command, as harmless as a human could be. And yet, humans had harmed Mewtwo momentously.

Mewtwo tore his gaze away and took in surroundings, trying to find whatever the threat was. But the walls around him were not those of a sterilized lab, there were no scientists here, and the thing constricting him that he had torn apart was merely a blanket. It had all been a dream. A dream of a memory…

Mewtwo returned his gaze to the boy, who was now looking at the door. Since Mewtwo had calmed, the boy was alertly watching and listening…for his father, Mewtwo realized.

How much of a racket had Mewtwo made? Would the father now wake up and come inspect?

Mewtwo was half a second from fleeing into the night through the window when the boy sighed in relief. "Thank goodness my Dad's a heavy sleeper."

Mewtwo also felt a small relief that there were no sounds or psychic warnings of the detective waking up, but he was still anything but calm. The dream remained in his mind, the phantom feeling of Howard Clifford in his head still there.

He shook his head. Although he had come here for safety, it was still a human home. He could not show any weakness, and still had to be on guard. He trusted the boy…but years of experience had taught him caution when it came to humans.

The boy turned his gaze back to Mewtwo, and Mewtwo instantly froze. This had been a bad idea. He should never have come here; the human would want an explanation, and all Mewtwo needed right now was to be alone, as he belonged.

As expected, the human asked him. "What happened?"

Nothing,Mewtwo cast off, forcing his hands to release their iron grip on the bag and stiffly getting to his feet on solid ground. It was merely a bad dream. I should leave.

"Hold up a minute," the boy objected as Mewtwo took a step towards the window. Internally, Mewtwo scowled. "I realize you're not used to having people help you, Mewtwo, but when someone is distressed, they shouldn't be alone."

That is preciselywhat Mewtwo should be. I can handle myself,human,Mewtwo spat.

A small flash of irritation crossed the boy's psyche, but it was replaced with forced patience. "If you just run and try to ignore the dream, it'll only fester."

That gave Mewtwo a pause. He took that fact and tried to compare it to the other times he had brooded over a nightmare. Normally, after a bad dream, Mewtwo didn't sleep for the rest of the night. He would have a miserable day but keep himself awake for as long as possible. Because if he got exhausted enough, sometimeshe could go back to sleep and not have dreams. But more often, the visions returned the moment he closed his eyes.

As much as Mewtwo hated assistance from a human, especially in something he was so vulnerable in, there was one ineffable thing he couldn't deny…that he dreaded going back there. And unless he did something different, he probably would the next time he fell asleep.

What do you suggest? Mewtwo asked, still ready to leave if he decided he was wasting his time.

"Dreams seem scary when they're in our own minds," the child answered immediately. "But when we talk about them, it helps us realize that it's all in our own head."

That was ridiculous on multiple levels. Firstly, because of courseit was all in Mewtwo's head. It was a dream,after all. Secondly, because they were memoriesas well as dreams, and thus had legitimate fears.

Mewtwo decided to say as much. These are memories, not only dreams. They are as real as you and I standing here now.

The boy tilted his head. "And yet they haunt you now, when they happened long ago. You're safe now, but your mind is making you fear something that is no longer a threat to you."

Mewtwo couldn't help it; he laughed. A cold, dark, and bitter laugh. No longer a threat to him? As if the boy had any idea. Mewtwo had fled from Giovanni, and Giovanni had come for him. He had fled from mankind itself, and they had come for him. He had fled from Howard Clifford, and he had come for him. And yet, the boy thought that being used and controlled was no longer a threat?It always would be.

The boy frowned at him. "Why are you laughing?"

Mewtwo managed to die down his cruel laughter to a dark chuckle. I am the most powerful Pokémon in the world. We both know that humans will always pursue me for my strength.

"Yes," the boy granted slowly. "But why are you afraid now?"

I am not afraid! Mewtwo snarled. He wasn't afraid right here, at least. He knew he could escape. He was tryingto,but the childwanted to talk. And, much as he hated to admit it, he had come to respect the boy enough to listen.

The child in question shook his head. "No, I'm not accusing you, I'm asking you. Dreams are our subconscious at work. Yours is bringing you memories to put you on guard because it's afraid of something. What is that?"

Mewtwo was silent, although he knew. With humans constantly pursuing him, he had to be constantly alert. That was the reason for dreams like these. To remind Mewtwo that for his entire immortal life, he would always be at risk of being enslaved.

It led to paranoia, and he always had to be on guard. He had to be ready to fight if he were found, which could happen at any moment. The dreams…the dreams reminded him of the consequences should he be lax in his vigilance.

"You fear that you're going to be caught again," the boy said softly. Mewtwo's head shot up; had he accidentally projected his thoughts? The boy waved a hand. "You said it yourself; people hunt you all the time. But how is anyone going to find you here?"The human waved a hand to encompass the room around them. "Right now, you're safe. Many people think you've skipped town. And even if they're looking, they'll never look into individual private apartments. Nobody else knows you're here. You have secrecy. You have walls so no one can just stumble upon you." The boy's voice became softer. "And you have me. You think I would just sit by if somebody attacked you?"

Mewtwo stared. The logical part of him cast the boy's statement off, for what use could the child be in defending he, Mewtwo,the most powerful Pokémon? The child didn't even have a Pokémon partner of his own. He wasn't even a full-grown human.

And yet, Mewtwo didn't think he had ever gotten an offer of protection before. He was feared, outcasted, scorned, hunted. Not comforted or reassured. It felt strange, to have someone tell him they would stand up for him. That he wasn't…alone.

"Do you know that you're safe here?" the boy asked.

Mewtwo was quiet. He wasn't sure how long the silence went on. Perhaps a minute. Perhaps an hour. Perhaps only a few seconds.

Yes.

"Good." The boy nodded. "As for the future…" the boy pursed his lips. "I can't guarantee about that. But I do know that you can't live your life in fear, Mewtwo."

Mewtwo was starting to see the logic in the boy's words, so he was less mocking when he responded. How can I not? We both know I will always be pursued.

"I hope it won't be forever," the boy sighed deeply, and Mewtwo blinked. It had never even crossed his mind that one day humanity might mature enough not to abuse him. Was that hope possible, or merely an ideal imagination?

"But you know Mewtwo," the boy said, drawing him out of his thoughts, "You don't have to go it alone." He gave a faint swallow. "You can always come to me if you need help. And maybe someday, if you feel like trusting him, my Dad could help too."

Mewtwo stared at the child, trying to imagine how one single human—or even two, for that matter—could possibly handle his trials. To face the ambitious, greedy, and power-hungry humans, like Team Rocket. Mewtwo's power was his to bear alone, and the evil and avarice were his to face.

Yet somehow, the load just felt a little bit lighter.

He bowed his head.Thank you,he said softly. That…helps.

The boy smiled. "So do you think you can get back to sleep?"

Mewtwo's mind was in such a tangled state he wasn't sure he could even blink at the moment. But without a word, he went back to his spot on the floor, and laid down in the rags of the blanket. The boy watched him for a second, before settling himself back down.

Mewtwo was completely still, but anything but calm or relaxed. He laid there, rigid, for what seemed like an eternity. But eventually, somehow, he drifted back into sleep.

And he had no dreams.