A long silence hung in the air in Le Théâtre Cruel as Viola turned the orb in her hand over several times. Her free hand came up to rub one of the prongs that protruded from her face. They were tingling, and as she turned the stone over and over, she felt the tingling intensify. Leo reached over and took it from her hand and notched it into a waiting bracelet. He notched another stone, sparkling with every color of the rainbow, into a second bracelet and presented them to Viola and Johannes.
Leo spoke at last: "For you, Viola, gardevoirite - and for you Johannes, your key stone."
The couple each took their respective bracelet. Johannes looped his around his wrist while watching Viola contemplate the bracelet, seemingly lost for what to do. "Viola? Something wrong?" he asked.
"Is it wise to wear this around my wrist? Perhaps somewhere it is less likely to come undone…?" said her musical voice in his head. She reached down to her belt and looped her bracelet around it, affixing it next to her pokeball and the pouch she carried identification cards and credit chits in. "Much better, don't you think?" She turned to Johannes and smiled.
"Yeah, I just hope…" he paused and looked down at the bracelet he wore. "These catalyze mega evolution, Viola. You know that, right?"
The gardevoir nodded. "Yes. It's a rather remarkable process. And still being researched, as you have said."
Johannes nodded. "Yeah. We aren't completely aware of the long term effects yet, and the process is a bit different between pokemon so…" He trailed off and held his arm up to eye the key stone. "Should we go for a trial run?"
Leo raised an eyebrow and interjected, "Normally I'd explain that it's not quite as simple as just having the proper stones but…" He crossed his arms and chuckled. "The two of you are married. If that fails to cross off the rest of the checklist to cause these stones to function appropriately then I do believe you two have work to do. About each other."
"Trust and a strong bond," mumbled Johannes, his eyes drifting to his bracelet. "I think we've got that squared away." He raised his eyes to Viola, who looked back him with determination. "Ready?"
"Indeed I am dearest," replied placid tones in his head. "May this form give me the strength to protect you."
Johannes touched his forefinger to the key stone, whereupon it began to glow a bright white. Viola followed suit and touched a finger to the stone at her hip, and the stone too began to glow white - along with the rest of her body. Brighter and brighter, as she rose into the air and the folds of the dress that hung from her body began to whip about and her hair fluttered and waved. She opened her mouth and a long, musical tone rang from it and then the light exploded outwards, blinding Johannes and Leo as the musical tone changed from a single note to a chorus.
As the researcher and shopkeep blinked the spots from their eyes, they saw the hovering form of Viola touch back down. She turned to Johannes and smiled before gliding to him and pulling him into a warm heart piece in her chest, now split in two, phased straight through his chest as arms covered in long, elegant white gloves wrapped around him. Somehow her belt had survived the process, unfazed by the sudden change from simple dress to voluminous, trailing ball gown. She looked up at him, her face now framed by the newly extended prongs that grew from it and kissed him.
As she pulled away, Johannes, thoroughly dumbstruck looked on, mouth agape and said hoarsely, "You're…"
A white petal came to his lips and she giggled - musical notes that reverberated from a place unseen. A chorus of voices to match the chorus of giggles in the air came alive in his head and said simply, "Your guardian, Johannes."
"Do you feel any different Viola?" asked Johannes, searching her eyes.
"Quite. I can hear whispers echoing in my head. Voices that sound not unlike my own. Surely you can perceive it? Perhaps even hear it?" As the sound of her voice dissipated in his head, her actual voice rose in the air, and again, it sounded like a chorus of perhaps a dozen Violas.
"Well I mean more...like…" he looked away and tapped his head. "Mentally. Worried still?"
Viola's smile faltered for a moment, replaced with a worried frown. "Of course I am my love." She reached up and caressed his face. "But I am something more than worried. Something better. I am confident. Your guardian, Johannes. A torch against the darkness that would swallow you. A bulwark before the coming horde."
"Viola, please, that's a bit drastic now isn't it?" asked Johannes nervously.
"Monsieur, you must understand, in this state, many pokemon find themselves possessed of power unlike anything they've ever felt. As I said, from stagehand to actor in this theater that Ignace has invited you to." Leo walked around Viola, studying her. "She is more than ready to fight whatever may stand against you. You must understand that."
Johannes bit his thumb. He wasn't sure if he particularly liked this newfound confidence. "What if she gets hurt? Or worse?"
Viola reached up to his face with her hands and cupped it. "Dearest, I have been ready to die for you ever since that fateful day in Hoenn."
The researcher pulled away, a horrified look on his face. "You never actually said those words though Viola. Besides, I'd sooner die than-"
Leo raised a hand to cut off Johannes. "Enough. You must understand, Johannes. This form does not adhere the rules the gardevoir you married did. So long as she stays as such will these new rules lord over her thoughts." He walked back behind the counter and pulled out a disc case. "Make good use of this - complimentary - technical machine Johannes, and you'll never have to see the depths of her commitment to you proven."
Johannes looked at the case and then back into bright red irises of Viola's eyes. A stone slipped into his stomach. The worry had shifted completely from his wife onto him. "How do I get her out of this form?"
Leo tapped his wrist three times and explained, "Tap your key stone thrice or simply wait out the transformation. Mega evolution has a shelf life that can be counted in minutes. It is also a somewhat exhausting process." He paused and his eyes flit to Viola, whose feet were now hovering an inch from the ground. "I would not recommend resorting to it unless it is absolutely necessary."
The researcher turned back to the Embrace and continued to frown. "You hear that Viola? Only if we absolutely need it." It was odd - only a few hours ago he had been trying to get her to worry less and now...
Viola held out a hand towards Johannes and said quietly in his head, "Beloved. Trust me. All will be well. So swear I on my life."
Something seemed to emanate out of her - it swirled through the air and then around Johannes, whipping around and around until it seemed to swirl directly into him. It was as if his heart had become a drain, and circling it was a medley of feelings. Confidence. Hope. Trust. Love. It swirled faster into the drain, filled his heart until he felt it would burst.
The worry drowned in a sea of positivity born from his transformed wife. It wiped the frown from his face, crushed the stone in his stomach to pebbles, then to dust. Blew them into the wind and left him feeling light and free.
He pulled her close to him and buried his head into her hair.
Ignace stared out the window of the train at the sun as it broke over the blurred countryside. He'd purchased a ticket for himself and Charles to ride from Lumiose to Dendemille. He'd paused only to pop into Ricard's apartment and inform the grouchy, tousle-haired, bleary-eyed accountant that he would be returning by the end of the following day.
It was rather unfair, he figured, to make a decision as weighty as this one in the wee hours of the morning where neither Ricard nor d'Artagnan had the energy to mount any kind of counter-argument, but Ignace had already played his first gambit with Johannes and Viola, and it had left him a betting man. He looked over at Charles, fast asleep in the chair next to him. The conductor had been wary of allowing a Bisharp to sit in one of the plush seats and so had instructed the two to make the way up to the second floor of the train, where fine chain-link seats were available for Pokemon with unusual body types. Ignace shifted in his seat somewhat uncomfortably and flagged down a passing attendant to request a cup of coffee.
Even in a softer, more comfortable chair he wouldn't have been able to sleep. A mixture of emotions churned in his gut: anticipation and fondness, cut with a thick layer of worry. Ever since that day in Unova she'd never been quite the same. His jaw and hands alike clenched. The old scars on his torso prickled at the memory. That day.
Ignace's chest was heaving. His shirt felt warm in some spots, cold in others, but wet throughout. Some of the stab wounds felt like ages ago. With a cough, he focused his attention on the three figures standing before him. At his feet, a fourth figure lay, blood pooled around him, his body still.
"Back to the wall like this in the alley," he thought, "what a way to die." His eyes flickered down to the corpse in front of him. "James always was too hasty for his own good. Idiot."
His eyes shifted to Charles, the pawniard's tiny frame laying helpless on the floor, unmoving. A spark of anger in his belly erupted into a flame that melted into the burning punctures his assailants' knives had left. Beyond one of them, he saw Ana laying upon the ground, her banette valiantly attempting to keep her Trainer safe. Jeannette seemed to be doing a good enough job. For the moment. Only one of the figures before him, Justin, was focused on her, though his annoyance seemed to be growing.
"Someone help me with this fucking haunted puppet." he growled. "This thing is fucking annoying. Dunno why the fuck it evolved, can hardly fuckin' fight." Justin ducked away from another shadow ball that crashed into the wall next to him harmlessly. He had the foresight to position himself in such a way that none of the attacks from the banette would make their way into the backs of his accomplices, but it had also left him relatively cut off from them. To make matters worse, the banette had kept up a constant stream of its strange speech, sending a cascade of shrieks, groans, moans, whispers and unearthly choruses of voices into the air.
The man nearest Ignace rolled his eyes, but did not turn his head away from him. "Quit fuckin' whining. Just shoot the fucking thing."
"Boss said no one brings a piece, remember? Wanted this done the old fashioned way. Sending a message and all that stupid shit. Got fuckin' James killed and everything," shot back Justin.
"Cry me a river cupcake. Just make sure you leave the girl alive, boss wants her. And as for you, Daniel." An ugly grin split Oliver's face.
Ignace caught the flash of steel and parried Oliver's knife just in time with his own. It sent trails of pain down his torso and arms and he groaned as the recoil throbbed through his arm.
"Boss isn't happy with what you're trying to do, you slimy cunt. Coulda fuckin' stayed in but figured you were better'an this, huh?"
"I'm...fucking leaving. Through you if I fucking have to." It hurt to speak, and he could feel his own breathing growing shallower. "Charles, get the fuck up."
Another figure, an imposing mountain of muscle by the name of Izaiah, turned about and looked at the pawniard. "He's fuckin' dead shithead. Just like you."
Another flash of steel, but his own dexterity failed him this time. His arm came up too late to realize that Oliver had thrown his knife, not swung with it. Cursing his need for trivial things like blood to remain focused and agile, Ignace fell to the ground next to the corpse with a shout of pain, the knife lodged firmly in his gut. "Fuck!" He wound his fingers around the grip of the knife and contemplated tugging it loose.
"Know when to fuckin' stay down already, Winters. You fuckin' lost, now fuckin' die already. Shit shoulda been over like thirty minutes ago, but you always were a lowdown, dirty dog of a motherfucker." Oliver lit a cigarette and walked over to Ignace to stare down at him. He kicked the knife Ignace had dropped as he fell away casually. "Veronica's gonna love spittin' on your fuckin' grave for what you did to James."
Ignace found each breath he drew progressively more ineffective at actually doing its job of delivering him oxygen - his fingers and toes were feeling colder by the second too. "F-f-fuck. You."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Oliver puffed on his cigarette and then turned to look at Izaiah. "Would you stomp that thing's face into a god damn pulp already? Then you can help Justin with that fuckin' puppet. I need Daniel here to watch this shit before he croaks." He turned his attention back to Ignace and smirked. "Too bad the boss laid out a hands-off policy for your girl. You sure knew how to pick them. Big 'n soft in all the right fuckin' places. Kooky fuckin' tastes though, no wonder they called her a hex-"
Out of the corner of his eyes, Ignace saw Izaiah raise a massive boot to bring down on Charles's head, only for the pawniard to begin to stir, and then turn completely white. The light that formed around his body exploded outward and caught Izaiah off balance and sent him falling back. Ignace blinked the stars from his eyes and saw Charles pick himself up off the ground, now a Bisharp, his face set into a grimace.
The diatribe from Jeannette stopped abruptly - and then it spoke what Ignace imagined was a single word.
Charles's reply was short and curt, and then he sprung forward.
"Oliver! Help!" The man towering over Ignace turned to see the bisharp launch itself at Izaiah with a piercing growl, swinging wildly at him with the blades upon his forearm. The man was only just deflecting the bisharp's onslaught, but it became clear to Ignace that Charles was getting faster with each strike.
"Don't fucking let up Charles!" shouted Ignace. He crawled away from Oliver, inch by inch, and desperate to get to his knife laying on the ground a few feet away. Oliver responded by turning and giving Ignace a swift kick to the face. Amid the sound of an ominous crack, Ignace felt his eyes explode into stars again - still, he flailed about blindly for the grip of his knife.
"Just fucking stab the thing!"
"Fucking where, it's made of metal and shit!"
"In the stuff that doesn't look like fuckin' metal you idiot!"
Ignace blinked the stars from his eyes once again to see Charles assault Oliver and Izaiah, his movements light and his attacks almost effortless. All of their attacks were parried or blocked, and the odd one that made it through seemed to be entirely worthless against his newly armored body.
Beyond the melee he saw Jeannette mass together a sizable ball of shadow energy and prepared to toss it. Justin dodged to the side reflexively - directly into the ball as Jeannette threw it at him, her feint successful. Justin's head exploded into a strange purple fire and he fell screaming to the ground. The screams became a horrible choking sound as he clawed at his face ineffectively and then he was still.
"Holy fuck, that puppet just killed Justin!" screamed Izaiah. His concentration broken, a bladed arm slashed across his stomach, leaving a wake of dark energy, and a second later his innards exploded out of him.
Ignace's blindly grasping hands gripped his knife at long last and he got to his feet, his entire body swaying. He began to step towards Oliver, who was looking feverishly between Charles and Izaiah. The mountain of muscle lay crumpled on the ground, whimpering and desperately trying to stuff his intestines back into the gash in his stomach, though his movements began to slow as shock set in. Not long after, his face was set permanently in a wild-eyed look of fear. His grasping hands fell still as the blood pooled around him.
A strong, repulsive stench broke into the air to mix with the smell of blood and flesh seared with ghost energy.
Ignace looked Charles in the eyes and nodded - the bisharp nodded back. He looked to Jeannette as well, who looked disdainfully at him before tending to Ana's unconscious figure on the ground.
"We used knives, Oliver." growled Ignace as he stomped towards him, his entire body swaying so much it nearly sent him falling back to the floor. "Said we didn't need guns to win this stupid turf war. The families, the politics, the fuckin' eye for an eye bullshit. Didn't need guns for that garbage. We used knives. That sonofabitch Morrissey said we did it because it sent a message."
"Well, I think there's a new message for him to hear." He was upon the man now, staring into eyes wide with terror. Ignace did not so much push him onto the ground as fall upon him and bring him along. He got to his knees and raised his knife into the air and then plunged it down into Oliver's throat to the sound of a wet, gurgling cry of pain and fear, shouting:
"And it's mine!"
Ignace snapped out of his recollection. Daniel Winters. With a sigh he dropped his head back into his headrest and stared up at the ceiling. That name had died the second he boarded the boat to Kalos with Ana. Her last name had too. Veros to Prevost. He rubbed his eyes. She had steadfastly refused to change her first name. Not that it mattered, Ana would work well enough in Kalos, but Ignace still worried now and again.
The countryside gave way to houses now and again, and as they approached Dendemille, the home whipped past closer and closer together. He felt Charles stir next to him as the conductor announced over the intercom, "Now arriving in Dendemille Town. Please collect your belongings and Pokemon. Return all Pokemon without boarding passes to their balls and disembark in an orderly fashion. Thank you for choosing Manectric Monorail."
"Let's go Charles. We're here. Gotta get to her house before she leaves for the day," he said aloud, nudging his friend. The bisharp stirred and growled. "Come on, get up ya lazy bastard, or I'm leaving you behind."
With a groan, the bisharp got to his feet and yawned, mumbling something incomprehensible.
"Yeah, yeah, you can call me an asshole or whatever the hell it was you said later, we've gotta get off the train." He pushed the bisharp onward into the aisle, down the stairs and out onto the platform.
The two found themselves in a quiet train station - clearly no commuters came to or traveled out of Dendemille. The orange glow cast by the rising sun crept along the ground slowly, making its way up the face of the station building nearby. "Alright, let's get a move on. Walk is gonna take us a while from this station. Forgot she's in the middle of the fuckin' town."
The two walked in relative silence, opting to pass by the inviting smells of the coffee and pastry shops - they would have breakfast at Ana's house. Ignace ran his hand surreptitiously along the small of his back, feeling the outline of the dagger he kept there. She'd given it to him back in Unova out of the blue one day. It was a bit morbid, he thought to himself, remembering the scene. Her smile, outstretched hands presenting the dagger and demure stature. Like an Acolyte of Arceus handing a man a pistol and a prayer.
He remembered her insistence on him taking it, the ever-darkening circles beneath her eyes after many a sleepless night waiting for his return, and the twinge of sadness that lived behind her upturned lips. He slapped his face several time and rolled his neck. He'd visited Ana precious few times in the last two years, and each time he did it always made him more emotional than he cared to be. Perhaps it was the knowledge of what he'd have to contend with whenever he did that changed him.
Every visit played out the same - a perfect storm of fondness allayed with a constant struggle against Ana's anxiety and timidity. That day in Unova had left her a wreck, horrified of the carnage she awoke to, of the state she found Ignace in, and of what he'd done to keep her safe. The guilt weighed too heavily upon her chest and seemed to have taken root in her very soul. At times, Ignace found himself wondering if his presence helped or hindered her recovery - though he had to admit, progress in the last two years seemed minimal.
Charles growled and muttered something unintelligible and pointed off down the road. The break in the silence snapped Ignace out of his thoughts and he looked around. A scant few passersby walked along the road, some bleary-eyed and others clutching mugs of coffee and tea, none of them paying him any mind. They were nearly to her home now, having moved past the the plethora of shops, cafes, bakeries and restaurants that lined the streets that led into the town and into the residential area. He looked about and noted the immense windmill that dominated the skyline and traced his eyes from the windmill, across the river, and to Ana's home in the near-distance. "Thanks Charles. Got lost in thought for a bit there."
The two approached Ana's door and Ignace reached out to knock thrice; each rap of his knuckles against the wood echoed in the house. He heard a muffled, "C-c-coming, coming!"
The door swung open and revealed the short, dark-haired figure of Ana. The shadows under her eyes had lightened somewhat, and her hair seemed less wispy and had a stronger luster to it than last time. She stared back at Ignace, her mouth agape and the figure of Jeannette rose into the air behind her, hovering near her shoulder. The banette regarded Ignace with narrowed eyes and a scoff of distaste, though her eyes softened when she looked to Charles and she gave the bisharp a nod.
Ignace decided to ignore the glare Jeanette had thrown at him and instead looked Ana in the eyes, saying quietly, "I'm ba- oof."
His announcement was cut off by Ana throwing herself into his chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. He returned the embrace and stared down at the crown of her head.
For a long while, only the sounds of the nearby river and the chirps of bird pokemon rang out in the air until at last Ana spoke, somewhat muffled, "D-D-Daniel… You're b-b-back."
"Never were one for assumed names, were you?" he replied softly. "Let's go inside. Safer, quieter, and I've got a lot to discuss." He reached down to pull her face out of his chest and tilted it up to face his. "And Charles and I could do with a bit of breakfast." He glanced to his bisharp and smirked. "Besides, he loves peeling potatoes, don't ya?"
Charles groaned and put his head in his hands, shaking it all the while. Inside, the strange laugh of Jeannette tinkled in the air, something like a mixture of whispers, muffled voices and quiet squeals.
Ana stood on her tiptoes to kiss Ignace's cheek before pulling back to search search his eyes and face. "I-I-I-I missed you, D-Daniel."
Ignace managed a small smile. "Not as much as I missed you Ana." Soon enough, he thought, she'd know it was for reasons beyond just absence.
Ignace shoveled the last of his pancakes into his mouth and gave Charles a patronizing look at the amount of liechi berry flavored syrup he'd added to his own. "You know those berries aren't exactly cheap," he remarked thickly. He took a sip of coffee and continued, "And neither is shit flavored with 'em. Take it easy."
The bisharp huffed and set aside the syrup to dig into his pancakes.
"Same sweet tooth as ever, Charlie?" asked Jeannette, her zippered mouth curving into a smirk. The sound came from all directions, a strange mixture of whispers, shrieks and rushing winds. "I'd have thought that Winters would have kept you on a no-sugar diet."
Charles took time chewing his pancakes before responding. He watched Ignace rise with his plate and begin washing it, talking with Ana all the while. He saw him give her a peck on the forehead before Charles turned back to Jeannette and swallowed. "Liechi berries." He took another bite of pancake and savored the strange mixture of spice and sweet that coated his mouth before continuing, "Don't like most sweets. All sugar. No flavor. Rather have plain pastry in Lumiose."
Jeannette rose into the air and floated over to Charles and sat herself on the table next to his plate. She crossed one leg over another and watched him eat, humming a tune Charles did not recognize all the while. When he finished his syrup-soaked pancakes she lifted the plate with a lazy wave of a finger and called out to Ana and Ignace. The detective turned around in time to see her toss the plate at him and with a loud "fuck", Ignace caught it. They were plastic, he noted - it figures that she'd throw it at him.
"Good to know Jeannette likes me as much as she always has," said Ignace, a bitter tone in his voice. He lifted a hand from the plate and watched the syrup drip slowly from it before looking at the banette with disdain. "Thanks puppet. Real fuckin' nice."
Her strange laughter filled the air for a moment before she turned her attention back to Charles. "So…" she reached out and flicked the blade protruding from his helmet. The bisharp gave her an exasperated look and dug his chin into his hand. Grinning as much as her zippered mouth would allow, Jeannette idly kicked a leg up and down and continued, "Been a while Charlie. Winters treating you well?"
Charles grunted. "Of course. Excellent friend. Strong Trainer." He looked into red sclera and long, thin pupils of the banette's eyes. "Will emphasize excellent friend." He paused for an instant. "Work to do. Ghosts and Kings. Rumblings from the dark." He tapped his chest. "Not mine. No blade of the dark. From beyond the veil."
The grin slipped from Jeannette's face and she leaned back on her hands and stared up at the ceiling. "Not here for a visit then, are you Charlie? Winters didn't come here to see Ana. It's just business." She sighed. "Bad business."
Charles put his hand to Jeannette's shoulder and looked her in the eyes again. "Need help. Hers." He pointed to Ana and then pointed at the banette. "Yours."
The banette looked up from Charles to glance at Ana. "Of course…"
Ignace had chosen to sit Ana down on the bench outside of her house. It faced the river and the windmill, an idyllic backdrop he'd have to sully with a rather ugly request. She was slumped against him, resting her head on his shoulders and kicking her legs idly. "W-what's wrong, D-Daniel?" she asked.
"What makes you ask that Ana?" he replied.
"You've b-been quiet. M-much more q-quiet than y-you normally are when you v-visit." She sat up straight and reached up to turn him to face her. "Y-you can tell m-me."
He looked away from her and dug his hands into his pockets. "I know. I've been trying to figure out how to." He freed a hand and scratched his face. "How's business?"
Ana tilted her head. "I-it's fine." She leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "B-but th-that's not w-what we're t-t-talking about."
Ignace looked at the pout on her face and felt his heart constrict. "I know." He fell silent.
"S-so?" she prodded.
It was as if a valve had burst and a nonstop stream of words gushed forth from Ignace's mouth. "I need your help. Yours and Jeannette's. We've hit a new case that I can't do alone. Ricard's helping, d'Artagnan's helping in ways you couldn't believe - I even had to tap two would-be victims. I've got some married couple from Sinnoh working with us. It's fucking insanity. All of it. We were attacked in our apartments. Ghosts and shit are killing people. That fuckin' bird is seeing crazy shit from the future. Charles is scared shitless of this "King" that's orchestrating everything. A gods damned gengar and dusknoir are involved. And to make shit worse, the police are keeping it all nice and hushed up too. Can't hurt Lumiose's tourist numbers, can we? And that married couple from Sinnoh? It's a behavioral researcher and a fucking gardevoir."
He stood up abruptly and began to pace. "I have no idea how this all got so fucking far away from my usual shit. I was solving simple murders and tracking down wayward pokemon that got sucked into the underbelly of that fucking city. I was solving problems. I was fucking redeeming myself. Sort of." He raised his arms in exasperation and gesticulated wildly at nothing. "And now I'm fucking here asking you for help. Dragging you into shit I swore I wouldn't. Ricard doesn't know I'm doing this but he's also not going to be surprised that I did. He's not gonna be any less pissed about it either. But I know for a fucking fact that you'd make this all easier. Save lives, figure shit out, keep it all from going pear-shaped." He paused to take a breath. "More pear-shaped anyway."
Ana stared at Ignace for a moment and then stood to hug him. "W-what kind of h-help do you n-need?"
"I should have figured you wouldn't protest." He rubbed her back and watched the windmill turn. "You're too fucking good to me. Too gods damned unselfish." He felt Ana shake her head into his chest as she mumbled something indistinct.
The door behind them opened, revealing Charles and Jeannette. Ignace craned his head around to look at them and gave his bisharp a quick nod. "Right on time you two. Try to catch whatever it is I'm about to say Jeannette. Maybe it'll be enough to make you wanna kill me."
He pulled Ana away from himself and bent down to look her squarely in the eyes. "I need tags, your cloth and your ball." He watched her eyes glass over and added reluctantly, "And you."
Something fell away into an abyss behind Ana's eyes. Her face remained blank and unblinking for an uncomfortably long time before she finally closed them and pulled Ignace down into the crook of her neck, her breathing rapid and shallow. Strange words began to form on her lips and became a nonstop stream of an alien tongue.
"Ana. Ana snap out of it," said Ignace firmly, squirming out of her alarmingly strong grip. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a soft shake.
She stopped mid-sentence and shook her head. Her knees shook. "Must it be, Daniel?" She slumped into him.
"I...well-" began Ignace. He stopped and looked guiltily at Charles and then Jeannette. He was surprised to see a look that approximated pity upon her face instead of anger. "Yes. It must. I'm sorry."
Ana reached into her dress and pulled a key looped through a necklace free and clutched it in her hand tightly. "J-J-J-Jeannette…" She took a deep breath. "Get my bag." She took another breath. "Get the box."
"Come. You can help," whispered the banette to Charles. She nodded at Ana and turned back inside. "Ghost kings and creatures from both sides of the veil. What have you gotten yourself into Charlie?"
The bisharp shrugged and followed the banette to a nondescript closet in a far corner of the house. "Always followed Daniel. Into darkness. Into light. Don't ask questions." He crossed his arms and the banette pressed a hand to the door - a seal glowed purple on it for a moment and then it creaked open. "This box?"
Jeannette nodded. "That's the one. But more importantly - no questions at all Charlie? Blind follower are we? I thought you were better than that."
Charles regarded the parcel before him. It was a small wooden crate, covered in tags and chains. A glowing purple lock made of brass glinted even in the relative darkness of the closet. Charles lifted the box - the chains rattled far more than they should have. Next to it was a plain suitcase. Jeannette lifted it into the air and had it float beside her.
"Hrm." Charles looked the box over and frowned at Jeannette.
The banette waved her hand dismissively. "It won't hurt you. It wouldn't really hurt anyone as it is. But when Ana opens it she'll be...less than happy about it."
"Not blind," he said abruptly. Jeannette tilted her head at him. "Blades are strong. Sharp. Rigid." He raised a gauntleted hand at her and wagged an approximation of a finger at her. "Bend a blade - it snaps." His eyes narrowed and he focused on the box again. "Will not snap for Daniel."
Jeannette stared at Charles for a moment before she said, "I'm...surprised. Does he know that?"
The bisharp shrugged. "Never tried to snap me." He made his way back to the front door and looked out at Ignace and Ana. "Surprised. Expected anger at Daniel from you."
With a scoff, Jeannette floated after Charles. "I'm always angry at Daniel. But I can see something in him. Saw it in him the moment he showed up, Charlie."
They paused at the threshold of the house and Charles paused to look at Jeannette. "Fear." It wasn't a question.
The banette stared at Ana for a moment then closed her eyes and shook her head grimly. "More than fear, Charles." She sighed. "Regret."
Charles glanced at the box down in his hands and chewed on his words for a moment. "Daniel is...guilty."
"Not one to mince words, are we Charlie?" replied Jeannette, the hint of a smirk on her face.
He shrugged. "Lies are flimsy. Brittle. Truth cuts like a knife. Hurts. Helps." He set the case down before Ana and Ignace and nodded at the two of them.
Ana picked up the crate with trembling hands and handed it to Ignace. "W-when are we going b-back to Lumiose?"
Ignace looked the box over with a look of unease - the thing felt wrong to even hold. "Now. You got your suitcase already, after all."
Ana ran her fingers through her hair restlessly, tousling it over and over. At last, she walked over to Jeannette and grabbed the suitcase floating next to her before she strode back to Ignace, her free hand still playing inexorably with her hair. "Then l-let's go." She turned about, thought better of it and then turned back to him. "D-Daniel." She brought a hand up to his face.
The detective looked back at her guiltily. "Yeah?"
She kissed him. "I love you."
Ignace tucked the crate under an arm and took her suitcase from her. "I love you too."