Author's Note: This chapter went through several major rewrites before I settled on this draft. Any feedback would be very much appreciated.
Classes have ended and the sun is down when I open the door to the dormitory rooftop to find Ishiyama smoking by the ledge. She starts at the sound of me, turning so rapidly that I fear she might fall, but the treads of her boots dig into the gravel with a sharp noise that keeps her grounded and stable.
I pause, my gaze meeting hers. She's locked up like a deer in headlights, body frozen and eyes wide. The cigarette in her fingertips bleeds ash and her breath smolders like a housefire.
Eventually she smiles, sheepish and awkward. "Keep a secret?" she asks.
I only shrug as I close the door behind me. "Wouldn't be the first," I quip.
Her smile fades, face darkens. She takes a drag that colors her features amber with light. I come to the edge, sitting with my legs dangling down into space. She notices the laptop under my arm for the first time and huffs fire.
"No rest for the wicked, huh?"
Her cynicism makes my hairs stand on-end, prickling against my entire being like a multitude of crawling spiders. I ignore her.
A moment passes. She eventually sits down beside me, mistaking my silence for an invitation. The smell of burning tobacco singes my nostrils and I want to vomit.
"Pretty risky to be doing that on campus grounds."
It's a probing remark, bordering on biting. My hope is to make her uncomfortable enough that she'll leave.
But she only shrugs, her dark hair falling into her darker eyes. "It's a habit."
"The word you're looking for is 'addiction.'"
Ishiyama bristles. When she takes another pull, the fire shimmers and flickers like she's trembling, but it's far too warm outside for her to be cold.
"Why are you such an asshole?"
I blink. Open my computer and pull up the materialization program. The sound of punching keys fills the air in lieu of a reply.
When her hand suddenly darts forward and closes the screen in my face, I'm forced to acknowledge her. Her eyes are glowing and fierce, hovering like twin-suns in the evening air, yet they're still somehow the darkest things I've ever seen. "I want an answer," she demands.
"I don't think I'm an asshole," is my immediate response, and she sees through it just as quickly.
She scoffs, breath hot like a dragon's. "Don't pretend. You're too smart not to know what I'm talking about. You're a cold, condescending jerk to everyone but her, and I want to know why."
The way that she says Aelita's name without saying it sets my blood on fire. "Probably a combination of environmental and genetic factors."
Yumi growls. The frustration on her face is painted clearly by the red-hot glower of the dying embers clenched between her fingers. She rises and stamps them out on the stones beside me, sprays cinders onto my shorts.
"I don't know what she sees in you."
"If you're using Stern as your metric, I can understand how you'd feel that way."
She shoots me a glare. The expression "if looks could kill" has never felt more apt.
"Fuck you, Belpois."
The door slams behind her when she leaves. I let a moment pass, listening as her steps pound their way down the stairwell in echoing thuds like an overactive hearbeat. Then I open my laptop back up and resume my work.
"Yumi tells me that you two had a fight."
I look up from my notepad, calculations halted. Aelita is looking at me tenderly, her image soft with concern. In that moment she reminds me of my mother.
"A fight requires two participants," I dismiss, scrubbing away an erroneous figure with the head of my eraser.
"What about internal conflicts?" she poses. Observant as ever.
I adjust my glasses with one hand, set my papers aside with the other. "Even then you're dealing with two distinct forces. One drive clashing with another, a desire at odds with an ethical imperative, and so on."
"Do you think that Yumi was having an internal conflict?" she asks, a smirk tugging at the edges of her lips. "And she got you confused with an ethical imperative?"
I frown. "Very funny."
"I'm being sarcastic, of course. But still. I'd really like to know what happened last night."
I pause. Tap my pencil pensively against my thigh.
"Well?"
"I admire Yumi," I finally admit. Even though it pains me to do so. "Deeply."
Aelita stiffens, her eyes waxing subtly. "Oh?"
"Intellectually," I clarify, and her features relax again. "Out of all of them, she's probably the only person who I'd entrust the supercomputer to should I ever become unable to operate it. Barring you."
She nods thoughtfully, crosses her arms over her chest. Her humming nonspeech reverberates through my headset as she ponders. "And that bothers you?"
I consider that seriously for a time. "No," I decide. "But it is intimidating."
"Intimidating?" she echoes.
"We're similar," I try, hoping to articulate. "Very similar. In many ways, I see myself in her. But she's older. More experienced. Things that I- definitionally- will never be, relative to her."
I stop myself, realize faintly that I'm rambling. Aelita's footing shifts, her own digital imitation of fidgeting. After another moment she declares, "You resent her for it."
I can feel myself getting defensive, but I do nothing to stop it. "What if I do?" I return.
"Emotional states are fundamentally subjective," she agrees, deftly evading the challenge in my voice. "But do you really think that's fair of you to feel?"
My grip on the pencil tightens, softly strangling the eraserhead between my thumb and index finger. She's right but I can't bring myself to admit it.
So instead I ask, "Can we talk about this later?" And with a sympathetic nod of her head the matter is dropped and never returned to.
"Are you sure this is the right tower?"
"Positive. You're sure you felt the pulsation?"
"Positive."
I fold my hands over the keys, fidgeting restlessly. I should know by now that something isn't right, but the thought of what exactly hasn't hit me yet. "Well, one of us is wrong."
"It's not me," Aelita sings, smirking coyly.
I smile back. "I suppose that settles that."
"If you two are done," Yumi injects, impatient, "some of us have a class to make. And a test to take."
"Literature, right?" Aelita pries fondly. "Does that mean you've finished Shakespeare already?"
"I did, thank God," Ishiyama huffs. "He's only the most overrated writer in history."
"Don't say that! I've been dying to read him ever since you told me about 'Romeo and Juliet.' You're still going to read it to me, aren't you?"
"If you insist on being bored to death, then I won't say no. But 'Hamlet' was better."
I'm still thinking as the two of them chatter, my mind wandering. A scan with no origin is impossible. XANA activated a tower, then deactivated it. It's the only explanation. But to what end?
"Still with us, Jeremie?"
I blink from my reverie, refocusing on the task at hand. "I'm here. Aelita, can you reenter the tower for me so I can bring Yumi in?"
"Roger that."
I watch as her sprite pauses before merging with the tower-icon, turning to wave goodbye to Ishiyama's. There's a flicker as she steps inside, but it happens so fast that I think nothing of it until it's too late.
"We have to go to the factory. Now."
She's been acting strangely since Ulrich and Odd carried her to the infirmary, so I'm only a little disturbed by the unprovoked edge in her tone as she storms into my bedroom unannounced. There's a gleam in her eye as she stares me down, fists clenched tightly at her sides. It's as if she's looking for a fight, though given our spat the other night I'm disinclined to assume that anything's actually wrong.
"Forget it," I say, intentionally dismissive as I turn away. "What you need is rest."
I steel myself for cursing, fully expecting a flurry of verbal attacks. All vulgar and predictably uninventive.
So I'm extra shocked when I feel her hand drape itself gently along my right shoulder, her fingers running down my arm like spider's legs. "Jeremie," she whispers, and the heat of her breath on my ear sends an involuntary shiver down my spine as she rounds me, kneeling to meet my gaze. "I have to go back to the scanner room. It's really important, you hear?"
"Um-..." my voice escapes me in hurried stammers, face burning with blood. Her hand slips away from my wrist and up to my chest, resting tentatively above my heart. "Y-Yumi, what-...?"
She shushes me with a soft noise, leaning somehow closer. I'm forced to look at her and the sight of her breast rising and falling with each passing moment makes me think things that I've never thought before now. When her palm leaves my body for a half-second I feel cold, then she reaches towards me and takes my glasses from my face and I'm warm all over.
"There." She smiles sensually. "Now I can see you."
My mouth is dry as she sits there staring, waiting for my reply. I swallow hard. "You're not well," I argue. "You should go home. And rest."
"But I need to go to the scanner room," she begs, doe eyes pleading. Her hands cup my chin and pull me closer-still. "And I want you to take me there. Understand?"
"I-I-..." I trail-off, lost in her visage. Something's wrong. My mind is racing to decipher what, the fact of the matter drowning beneath the rising tide of heat and impulsive euphoria pounding in my veins. My grip on my computer chair tightens as her lips brush mine, and suddenly it hits me. Lightning strikes my brain and the pieces suddenly connect like cars colliding.
That's when Stern and Della Robbia come in.
"Ulrich, wait!"
Della Robbia slows to face me, his eyes hazy with distrust. He glances at Ulrich, who shows no signs of stopping as he continues marching towards the treeline, back turned and fists balled.
"Stern," I plead, following him beneath the shadows of the leaves. Odd trails a pace behind us, observing quietly. My hand reaches out and takes him by the arm. "Stern, would you just hear me-...?"
His knuckles bash hard into my lower jaw, rattling me like a toy. I stumble backwards and listen to the forest ring like a siren. Out of the corners of my spinning vision I can spy Della Robbia cringing almost sympathetically at my plight, but it's plain to see whose side he's on.
"I deserved that," I concede, wiping blood from my lip.
"Give me one good reason why I should listen to anything you have to say," Stern demands, gearing up for another blow.
I come up with several on the spot, but the only one that I know will convince him is: "That wasn't Yumi."
Odd flinches, visibly unsettled by the prospect. "What do you mean that wasn't Yumi? You know any other short-tempered Japanese chicks on campus?"
"Of course I don't," I retort, still nursing my bruised mouth. "It's her. But it's not her, too."
"Care to translate, Einstein?"
"What I mean is, I think we're dealing with some kind of clone."
Stern snorts derisively. "Bullshit."
"Remember what Mrs. Hertz said about replication?" I press on, deliberately ignoring him. I already have Odd's attention, and if I can just keep talking then I'm bound to catch his, too. "An exact duplicate, but a different entity. It makes perfect sense."
"Can XANA really do that?" the blonde asks. "Make copies of us just like that?"
"More than likely it would require a vast amount of energy. Way more than any of his usual tricks. But it's well within the realm of possibility. I would even venture to say it's probable."
"Probability," Ulrich injects, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "There's that word again, Belpois."
I shoot him a defensive glare, though the fact that he's digging tells me that he's listening. "Use your head, Stern. What would I have to gain from lying about this?"
"You'd save yourself a world of pain, for one thing."
"You'd save us all some pain if you'd just wise up and think about this rationally."
He growls like a rabid dog, storming forward like he's about to hit me again when Della Robbia suddenly jumps to my aid. He plants himself firmly in-between us and square in Stern's way, green eyes boring up into his deep brown ones. "He's right, Ulrich. Think about it. Yumi has been acting weird today, even for her. And if Jeremie was going to lie to save his skin he's definitely smart enough to come up with something better than 'Yumi's evil twin.'"
Ulrich appears torn as he stands there, jaw locked tensely with thought. I can almost see the smoke rolling from his ears as the wheels in his head start to rotate and grind. He doesn't want to be wrong and for a splitsecond I find myself empathizing with his plight.
It feels like hours before he finally says, "Maybe you're right."
Odd flashes him a grin. "I usually am."
Stern's brow furrows, but after another moment passes he rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. When he finally looks at me again, the violence has all but faded from his gaze. "So what's the plan, Belpois?"
"We have no choice." I cross my arms over my chest, dread rising in my stomach like bile. "Yumi's still on Lyoko somewhere. We have to go find her."
"But isn't that exactly what XANA wants? Us on Lyoko and you by yourself in the factory?"
"It is," I admit, and I channel Odd for a moment as I manage a wry, nervous smile. "But compared to facing off with you, Stern, XANA will be a cakewalk."
It's dark when I meet her up on the roof of the dorms again, and she's sitting at the edge almost expectantly, black eyes watching the door for movement. They light up when I step outside, her features pensive and coiled with nerves.
"Hey," she greets, uncharacteristically quiet.
I have trouble meeting her gaze as I nod hi back.
There's a silence, cold and uncomfortable. Then she pats the gravel beside her, beckoning me to join her. I oblige. For a while we only sit, listening to the sound of chirping crickets and the occasional shrieking cicada.
"You're not smoking."
I'm the first one to break, trying awkwardly for casual chatter. It feels as though weeks have passed since we last spoke, but even accounting for the added time of returning to the past it's only been two days.
"Trying to quit," she says.
I blink, stare blankly off into the trees. The usual disdain that drips from her words is noticeably absent now. I wonder what's changed.
"How'd you know it wasn't me?" she eventually asks. Her chest heaves as though a giant weight has been lifted from her shoulders, and her tone is begging for a reply.
I don't answer for a long, quiet while, feet kicking aimlessly over the ledge. Twenty responses spring to mind, but I shoot them all down, trying for something more. Finally I settle on: "I don't mean to be such an asshole all the time."
It's her turn to blink, her gaze flickering as she seems to be processing my words. Dark eyes glimmer in the ascending starlight. Then she smiles, white and warm. "It just comes naturally to you, doesn't it?"
I smile back, and I don't have to try nearly as hard as normal. "I guess."
Yumi snorts, covering her mouth with her hand too late to stop the sound from escaping. She has an honest laugh and I wouldn't mind hearing it again sometime.
