Here to There
L.R.T.
Even Jessie expected to lose some of her nerve on the way to Camphrier Town. The trip wasn't overly long or arduous but going on foot still lent her enough time to contemplate things. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she would show up in town and immediately want to turn tail and run; but that nagging only made her more angry and intent on finishing what she came to do. If anyone could heckle themselves and then get pissed off about it, it would certainly be Jessie.
The sound of her boot heels on the cobblestone streets echoed in her ears like a time bomb slowly ticking away. The fuse disappeared faster and faster with every step, enveloped in a spark that shot out from it like fireworks.
Standing outside the Hotel Camphrier, she clenched her fists and gazed up at the building before her; somewhere inside was the man who took James away from her and didn't even care, concerned only with whatever the hell his master plan was now.
Fury burned inside of her as she stomped in through the front doors, forgoing acknowledging anyone at the front desk - even when they gasped, pointed, and began chattering in hushed voices about the gun that was against her back - starting up the stairs to the second story.
Subtly was not one of Jessie's strong suits on a good day, let alone when her boiling blood was about to spill over. She stood at the end of a long hallway, closed doors against the walls on either side of her all the way to the end. As strange as it seemed, she could almost feel his presence, closer now to her goal than ever before.
Fists still clenched, she screamed out down the corridor, "Where the fuck are you, you piece of shit?!"
She stood waiting, breathing heavily, reaching back behind her to pull out her gun and have it at the ready. She wasn't in the mood for small talk; all she wanted in that very moment was to put a bullet in his head and walk away.
There was now a discrepancy in the doors leading down the hallway, one two doors down on her right suddenly open. Well, at least he was self-aware enough to assume that anyone calling out a piece of shit would likely be looking for him.
Despite her need to spill his blood, Jessie's pace was slow as she made her way to the open door. She stopped just outside of it and looked down at her gun, cocking it and making sure there would be no ifs, ands, or buts about how long it took for Lysandre to end up dead on the floor. When she looked up again she jumped back slightly, the man that she'd seen on the phone with Augustine now right in front of her.
Quickly she raised her gun only to have him grab her wrist roughly, squeezing it harder and harder until she let go, giving him possession of the weapon now. She glared at him and tried to pull away but was overpowered and shoved into the hotel room, stumbling as he let her go and falling to the floor. Who knew someone that dressed like that could be so strong?
The door slamming shut behind them, Jessie stayed where she was on the floor, hunched over and kneeling, the time bomb inside of her ready to burst. She watched him through hooded eyes as he nonchalantly walked past her, looking at the gun with distaste before removing the clip, placing it on a nearby desk, and tossing the now-useless piece on the bed.
"Violence has never solved anything," he said blandly, pulling out the desk chair and sitting in it.
"Said the son of a bitch who nearly destroyed the whole fucking region because his mommy didn't love him enough," she retorted, lifting her head slightly to meet his eyes.
Lysandre raised an eyebrow, folding his hands in his lap and resting back in the chair. "And you are?"
"Going to end your miserable life."
"How do you plan to do that without a weapon?"
Sitting up and resting back on her heels, she held up her still-clenched fists. "Who says I don't have a weapon?"
He sighed heavily, forcing himself to leave the chair and kneel down in front of her on the floor. "I easily took care of those so-called weapons when I got that gun away from you. Or have you forgotten already?"
Jessie growled, taking a swing at him only to be met with mind-numbing pain, his hand around her fist, squeezing it like a ripe berry. She yelled out, hunching over again, fingers on her free hand digging in against the carpet.
Lysandre stopped upon hearing a "pop" causing the strange, angry girl in front of him to scream out once again. "If you would tell me who you are, maybe I would be a bit more welcoming."
She held her trembling hand up, her index finger twisted gruesomely inside her glove. Looking up at him, she narrowed her eyes, teeth clenched in anger and pain. "Jessie. Team Rocket."
His eyebrows raised slightly, both names sounding familiar but unsure why. He watched, unmoved by the tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "That tells me nothing. You shouldn't threaten people and take matters in to your own hands if you aren't prepared to handle the possible outcome yourself."
"You're one to talk," Jessie muttered, shaking the tears from her eyes and forcing her body to stop shaking from the pain that shot through her like a thunderbolt.
Another sigh and in seconds his hand was gripping her lower jaw, fingers digging in on one side and his thumb on the other. He slammed her back against the foot of the bed and, maintaining his cool demeanor despite the situation, stated again, "I want to know who you are and how you found me."
She tried not to let the rising fear inside of her show on her face or in her voice, barely able to speak with his hand clutching her jaw. "Augustine," she replied and immediately winced as his grip tightened.
Lysandre's face grew dark - cold, unfeeling eyes locking on her wide ones. "You," he said, his voice venomous with the realization of her identity.
Most people he could certainly do without; Augustine Sycamore was not one of them. He had been his one and only true blue friend throughout most of his life and was the one thing other than the loss of Pokemon that truly made him reconsider his position on the world.
When Augustine had returned from Hoenn, he was a different man for months after. Lysandre eventually got him to open up about what had happened - who had happened, specifically - and soon after his friend started to return to the positive way of thinking that had made him so interesting to Lysandre in the first place.
Even then, however, the professor still struggled, focusing on his research to an unsettling degree and prompting the future leader of Team Flare to take an interest in his work, if only so he would have some type of human contact other than the deliveries of meals he'd ordered from cafes in town.
Professor Sycamore had accomplished great things already but Lysandre couldn't help but wonder what more he would have been able to do had he not been stuck on the merry-go-round of heartbreak. Maybe the world wouldn't be such a dismal place.
The girl in front of him had to be one of the worst offenders he had encountered thus far. She was a heartless criminal who clearly didn't have much of a problem with murdering people in cold blood. For everything that Augustine was to him, she suddenly embodied the exact opposite. He wished he had done far more than simply break her finger and likely bruise her face. At least the day was still young.
"Do you understand what you did?" he asked.
Meeting his icy glare and returning it, she replied, "Do you?"
He jerked her head forward, bringing it closer to him. "You destroyed him," Lysandre hissed.
Jessie's heart sank, her stiffened body going slightly limp, eyes softening. "I know," she whispered.
Shoving her head back against the end of the bed again, he continued, "He may have gone on to become something amazing, but he has never gotten over you. And now you use him to get to me and exact...what is it, exactly, that you'd like?"
Swallowing down the building lump in her throat, she continued to whisper, "You killed my soul mate."
He stared at her in disbelief, almost taken aback beyond reason that she would dare show her face in Kalos, let alone make contact with Augustine - and for what? To avenge her "soul mate." What a selfish, inconsiderate brat. His dark thoughts only became darker...if she missed her beloved so much, she should join him.
"You," he began, voice filled with contempt, "are the one that killed your 'soul mate.' You are the reason I long for a different, better world. In fact," he paused, pressing her head back against the bed before abruptly letting go, "if you were gone, that would surely make me loathe this world a little less."
Lysandre fought back a smirk at her reaction, blue eyes wide and glistening with tears, mouth moving and yet nothing coming out. "Of course...you've thought all of this before, haven't you?" With a barely noticeable nod in reply, her eyes darting away from him, he continued, "Tell me, then..." He leaned forward, grabbing her the same way again and forcing her to face him, "why are you still here?"
Jessie let the tears spill down her cheeks, shaking her head as much as his grip would allow. "I don't know."
"Nor do I. If you were willing to kill me, you must not be very concerned with leaving anyone behind as you rotted away in jail for the rest of your life. With no one to care about - and more importantly, no one to care about you - tell me how you've managed not to kill yourself yet." He dropped his hand from her face once again, his own revenge getter sweeter by the moment. "Especially since you would be reunited with the person you love so much." Lysandre sat back, watching the tears come flooding down her cheeks. "If I had lost someone I loved so dearly and I knew of a way to be with them again, I wouldn't hesitate for a moment."
His words swirled around in her head, everything he had said making so much more sense than anything she had felt or thought since James's death. Her heart ached to see him again, to touch him and tell him how much she loved him, apologizing for every horrible thing she had ever said or did to him, for betraying him with the pangs of affection she felt for Augustine. For the first time in a long time, everything seemed so clear.
Keeping his eyes on her, he slowly stood from his position on the floor and reached for the empty gun on the bed, turning briefly to grab the cartridge from the desk and slam it into place. Lowering his arm, he offered it to her wordlessly.
Looking at the gun and yet not really seeing it, she reached up and gingerly took it from his hand. Her own was shaking and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to get composed enough to make a decent kill shot. It would be her luck if she botched killing herself, too.
Faintly, she heard someone calling her name as if through a dream, eyes opening and locking on the pistol in her hand. Far off sounds of banging on doors muddled around inside her head, mixing with the anxious sound of her name and Lysandre's words. Unaware of the confrontation that had started at the door, silly little things James had said to her joined the mix, punctuated by her final conversation with him. Her name became louder and clearer, the miserable fog she had trapped herself in slowly lifting.
Augustine took the gun away from her and dropped the clip to the floor before placing a hand against her bruising cheek. He jerked his head to the side and shot Lysandre an angry look as she stayed still, still staring at her hand where the gun once was. "What did you do to her?"
"Nothing she wasn't already doing to herself," Lysandre retorted, regarding him with wariness. "Did you actually think that by attempting to help her that she would fall in love with you?"
He clenched his teeth, sliding his hand to the back of her head and pulling her to him, softly kissing the top of her head. "She needed a friend. I seem to recall you needing that very same thing a long time ago."
He narrowed his eyes, taking a step toward him. "Come now, Augustine...you're a professor. Surely you're smarter than this."
Picking the catatonic Rocket up in his arms, he slowly stood and turned to Lysandre. "Not only do I want no part in whatever sadistic plan you've come up with now..." He lowered his voice, uncharacteristically harsh, "I want nothing to do with you."
His jaw clenched as well, eyes scanning the girl who lay limp in his arms. "How can you be so foolish? How can you still love her after everything -"
"How can I still be your friend after everything you've done?"
The rejection hit him dead-on, nearly knocking him backward. All he was trying to do was save him from more heartbreak and humiliation. Being looked over and dropped for her was another grave injustice in the world - a world that had spun Augustine around so fast and so hard that he clearly didn't know which way was up and which was down...who he should put his faith in and who he should leave crumbling in a hell of their own making.
Taking another big step forward, Lysandre grabbed Jessie's injured hand and squeezed again, the pain bringing her out of her piteous thoughts and causing her to scream. He let her hand drop and watched with disgust and disappointment as Augustine set her down on the bed, being so careful not to hurt her.
He stepped to the professor, grabbing him abruptly by the collar with one hand and sending a hard punch across his cheek. Lysandre stood over him after the force of the blow made him fall to the ground, pressing his foot against his chest to keep him there. "You always hurt the one you love," he sneered.
Suddenly there was a loud smack, a sickly ring accompanying it, time seeming to slow as Lysandre realized he had just been hit. Wobbling backward, he put his hand to the back of his head and pulled it back again, dark red barely visible against his gloves. He was only just beginning to gather his bearings when he heard the sound again, a sharp pain in his face the last thing he recalled before falling to the floor, unconscious.
Breathing hard, her body shaking almost uncontrollably, Jessie stood over Lysandre, the hotel room phone in her good hand. Augustine winced as he slowly stood, making his way over to her and gently taking the phone from her hand, tossing it to the floor, the makeshift weapon letting out another brief ring as it crashed.
She stared at Lysandre, her eyes following the trail of blood that now dripped down his face. Tentatively, Augustine slid his arms around her quivering form, murmuring softly to her, "It's okay. It's over."
Lysandre's words were replaced with his, both old and new: the giggly sweet-nothings they whispered to each other in the warmth of summer nights followed by his recent admission of how he cared for her even now.
Suddenly exhausted - the lack of sleep, pain, and emotional drainage catching up to her - she let herself rest against Professor Sycamore's body limply. She wanted to burst into tears but simply didn't have the energy, thankful when he picked her up in his arms again.
Once outside the room, he let her lean against the wall for a moment while he went back inside and pulled the desk chair to the hall. Shutting the door behind himself, he wedged the back of the chair against the doorknob, trapping the person he used to know inside.
Picking up Jessie again, he started for the stairs, saying softly, "We'll get Officer Jenny here. He has nowhere to run now and no one to turn to."
The pain in her finger and hand had become only a dull throb underneath the cast around her finger and brace around her wrist and hand. She had only been wearing it for a few hours and already her healthy fingers were stiff and she longed to bend her wrist - possibly to smack the nearest person in the face.
Officer Jenny suggested that the two stay in Camphrier Town for the night. This resulted in every barely legal hostess and housekeeper in the hotel swarming around the professor, setting him up in one of the nicest rooms the small town hotel had to offer. As if what had transpired that day didn't put her in enough of a shitty mood, she had to watch him laugh nervously and attempt to get rid of the fangirls in the most polite way possible. Jessie had been ready to get up and smash another phone on somebody's head when she heard one of them say something about "we have a room for your friend" only to be immediately shot down by the reply, "That's not necessary, she'll be staying in here with me." The glares that were turned her way made her send them a bright, overly cheery smile and a small wave. It didn't take very much for Professor Sycamore to get them out after that.
If she had been in better spirits, she would have jumped on the bed and banged the headboard against the wall, moaning loudly simply to spite them; as it was, though, she barely had the energy to sit on the bed and stare at her hand, pumping the fingers that could achieve it to try and make them feel better. Part of her wanted to sleep forever and forget about everything and everyone; the other part begged her to stay awake, afraid of what dreams may come.
Slipping out of her boots and skirt with some degree of difficulty and plenty of expletives, Jessie finally got to lay back in the bed in her black tank top and panties and stare up at the ceiling. The pain had intensified for the moment, aggravated by the audacity of its victim trying to do something. She pumped her fingers again, bringing her good hand to her face and touching her jaw and cheeks, wincing slightly. Suddenly she was extremely grateful that she had no access to a mirror.
The door opening and closing, Jessie tilted her head to look across the room at Augustine, who seemed exasperated. He rested back against the door and shut his eyes, making a face at the swollen and bruised one's refusal to close all the way.
Jessie frowned, rolling over onto her side. "What is it?"
He opened his eyes and sighed heavily, sitting down on the other side of the bed and running a hand through his hair. "I found out why Jenny was so insistent on us staying here today."
Jessie snorted, rolling onto her back again and putting her good hand behind her head. "She wants to bang you, too?"
Raising an eyebrow at her, he shook his head a little and continued, "Listen," he stopped so he could crawl up to her, sliding his shoes off the edge of the bed, looking down at her and blocking her view of the eggshell-white ceiling above, "I don't want you to get upset but...if I didn't tell you and something happened -"
"Will you just fucking spit it out?" she interrupted, glaring back up at him.
Sighing again, he said, "Lysandre escaped."
Staring at him for a moment, she then began to laugh softly, closing her eyes tightly. "Of course he did."
"Jenny thinks it was through the window...how he got it open and managed to jump and survive with a head injury like that is -"
"Please, it was only the second floor. I've fallen from higher and with second degree burns all over myself." She rolled over and put her back to him, bringing her legs up to her chest. "Besides, it seems pretty obvious that he's not human to begin with."
Augustine looked down at the bed briefly before sliding back to the edge and starting to unbutton his shirt, exposing a large bandage that wrapped around his chest. It was only some bruising but the nurses had insisted - something that Jessie had decided was solely so they could cop a feel.
Continuing to strip down to his boxers, he watched her, brain running a thousand miles per hour. She couldn't expect him to simply let what he'd walked in on go as if it were water under the bridge. Getting drunk to take the pain away was one thing; but to do something about it permanently was another and something he never thought that she would ever consider. She wasn't one to be so easily manipulated and yet Lysandre had gotten into her head so deep so fast...it stood to reason that maybe he had been right and all those thoughts were circling around her head the whole time - he was only verbalizing what she already thought to be true.
That explanation didn't make Augustine feel much better.
Crawling back in to bed next to her, he laid on his back now and put his hands behind his head slowly and carefully, making a face anyway at the small jab of pain that shot through his chest as he did. He really couldn't believe that she had actually left and came so close to making good on her promise of justice for James. In retrospect, he didn't know why, exactly, it surprised him - this was Jessie, after all. Not even years apart had changed her penchant for acting without much thinking.
Turning his head to the side to face her, he smiled sadly. Lysandre hadn't been right about a lot of things lately, in Augustine's opinion; but unfortunately for everyone involved, he had been dead-on about his feelings for Jessie. Why wouldn't he be? He had been the one that listened to him talk about her for months after his return from abroad. Lysandre had often rolled his eyes at the sentiments and almost always shoved a cup of coffee into his face when the hint of tears were forming in his eyes to try and keep them from falling. He always knew that he was deeply embarrassed whenever he talked about love or romance and relationships in general; but he never thought that he would go so far as to...
Augustine sighed, lifting his hand and reaching over to gently brush some hair out of Jessie's face. If he had shown up only a few seconds later...suddenly he realized that this feeling must be how she felt all the time, her situation ten times worse. She was safe and still he ran through the worst case scenario in his head over and over - what if the cab had gotten caught at that one light? What if Lysandre hadn't opened the door to him? What if it was five seconds later and he found out what room they were in by the sound of a gun shot? The thought of finding her like that make him sick to his stomach; but that was what she was dealing with every second of every day.
James really had gotten hurt. He really was gone. The only "what-if"s were ones that consisted of a happy ending. As terrible as his thoughts were about finding Jessie dead like that, thoughts of happiness that might have been had to be so much worse than thoughts of tragedy that had been avoided.
Swallowing hard, her body tensing up as he continued to stroke her hair, she said quietly, "Just say it."
He let his hand fall back to the bed, eyes still locked on the form that lay curled up next to him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry that you've felt so alone and desperate. I knew there was nothing I could ever do that would help things but...I also never thought -"
"Is what he said true?" she asked, biting the inside of her lip.
"That you shouldn't be here? Jessie, you know -"
"No," she said, shaking her head slightly. "That I destroyed you...and you never got over me."
Augustine smiled a little, lifting his hand again and letting his fingers tangle in her hair. "'Destroyed' is a very strong word."
"So...you've been happy, right? You've made friends and have colleagues now...he was being overly dramatic to make sure that I -"
"If you're asking if I've been a celibate Dwebble all this time, the answer is no," he said, lifting his hand as she rolled over on her back and looked at him. "By the same token, if you're asking whether or not I've felt for someone the way I did for you..." He shrugged, lowering his hand again and letting his fingers brush lightly against her colorful cheek. "That's a different story."
"Did?" she asked softly, tilting her head against his fingers.
Laughing softly, he nodded a little at her. "I was hoping you wouldn't know to correct that."
Jessie rolled on her side, cautiously moving closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder. Glancing down, she bit her lip again, lightly running her fingers across his bandaged chest. "He said all these things that have been at the back of my mind all this time...even more ever since I've been with you."
He slid his arm around her waist, hand resting on her bare hip bone. "Why's that?"
"Because everything that I'd ever feared was coming true...I was lost and alone and instead of being thankful that I had people who cared about me, all I could think about was what I burden I was to them and how much happier they would all be if I was just...with James again..."
Augustine shook his head and leaned down, kissing her lightly on the forehead and letting his lips linger for a bit before quietly replying, "I know I wouldn't be happier." He smiled slightly, taking her injured hand and lifting it to his lips, brushing his lips against her fingers.
She let her eyes fall shut, a shiver running up her spine at the sensation of his lips against her skin. Murmuring his name softly, heart racing, she pressed herself against him, longing for more contact and new sweet nothings to be said, catching in her brain and reminding her that there was at least one person that didn't think the world would be better off without her.
He swallowed hard, lowering her hand back to his chest and holding it there while his other grabbed the edge of covers and tugged them up and over her shivering body. "You need to get some rest." He was oddly thankful for his injuries, the pain that most small movement caused in his chest an effective deterrent against how badly he wanted her. If he hadn't been hurt, he couldn't say that he would've been such a gentleman.
His heart beating against the bandages and her hand that laid on top of them, Jessie nodded, knowing that it was for the best that they sleep the whole day off; but it still made her happier than she thought it should have to know she made his heart flutter just as much as he did hers.