(MUHAHAHAHA. I am evil. Also, damn you Rose. See, this wasn't supposed to happen. But now it did, because she wouldn't stop with her belief Anna was preggers, and I was like, 'that's actually a good idea'. ...Yeah. Once again, probably breaking medical physics, but the child might survive for a few minutes afterward, I think. Don't know.

Is it preachy, this chapter? Yes. Probably. If you flame me for the views in the chapter, I don't care, but...well, really, peace and love, man. I don't own.

The aftermath of Red's death is in the next chapter, I promise. And what happens to their Pokemon? The Resistance Order? Yellow? You'll see next chapter, I swear...)

I stared down at her corpse—and saw her stomach roll. It rippled, and Collins gasped.

"She's...she's still in labor! My god, she's going to give birth postmortem!"

That did it. My grief and sadness overwhelmed me—and I burst out laughing.

My dead friend was giving birth. By god, this day couldn't get any weirder.

"SAVE THE KID!" Gold roared. Collins nodded.

"Well, I suppose it'll be possible...but I'll have to do it by cesarean. Get the body into the—" I interrupted.

"Her name was Anna." Collins nodded.

"Fine. Get Anna's body into the operating room. The three of you, help me. Livvy, go see your father." I nodded dumbly as they gently picked up Anna's body and rushed out.

I looked down at the blood on the floor.

Two of my greatest friends had died in the span of a night and day.

One died a hero, protecting the one that he loved.

The other died behind a veil of grief for all she'd lost, and all she would not, could not endure—but her death was no less noble. For really, she died so that the soul of Akira wouldn't go alone into the darkness.

And there is no nobler death than one that is for those you love.

They'd make their children proud, but it didn't matter. Any child in the world would rather have a parent than pride.

I walked down the hospital wing, and found daddy's room by following the sound of Tristan's hysterical screaming.

"Please don't die on me sir, please! YOU CAN'T DIE!" He wailed at the top of his lungs, shaking Morgan by both shoulders.

Morgan opened on bleary eye. "Tristan...you fucking...moron...I'm...fine. Stop...shaking...my...wound..." Tristan burst into tears, and slammed his lips onto Morgan's. Morgan moaned softly, and the two began vigorously putting their tongues to very good use.

"...Hi, daddy." I said, causing the two of them to stop.

I was almost expecting some sort of spokesperson jumping out from behind the door, and scream, "SMILE MOTHERFUCKERS, YOU'RE ON CANDID CAMERA!"

"Tristuh." Morgan hissed. "Guh offuh muh muth." Tristan pulled away, and blinked at me. I cocked my head and stared at him.

"...So..." I said, hoping one of them would proffer an explanation.

I got none. I rolled my eyes, and said, "You know, you're going to have to look at some of these rules of yours now."

Morgan smiled at me, and pulled me close. I knew what'd I said was lighthearted enough, but the acceptance in those words meant everything to him. "Livvy...are you hurt? You're covered in blood..."

I'm sure I must've shocked him, but I began bawling at the top of my lungs then, sobbing hysterically. Tristan jumped in his seat a bit, even.

"ANNA AND AKIRA ARE DEAD!" I roared, pressing my face into his chest. He stopped.

"The girl with green hair? Really? And her Gallade...that was Akira, right?" I nodded, clinging to him in tears. Morgan sighed, and rocked me back and forth. "And you're covered in their blood." I nodded. He sighed.

"Tristan, please help Livvy into the shower—" I shook my head.

"Wanna see the baby."

They both looked shocked.

"Tristan," Morgan ordered, "I want this damn bed on wheels wheeled right the fuck down to the operating room." Tristan gave him a mocking salute.

"Yes, sir." He grinned easily, and grabbed the bed and IV drip, pushing the bed down the hall.

...So. Damn. Surreal.

Once we got to the room, I almost vomited.

Anna's stomach was split open, and Collins and Derek were in the process of pulling the baby out.

And there was another one in there.

I stayed silent as the child was slowly yanked out of Anna's stomach, blood dripping down from the child and making it look like a giant meatball dripping with sauce, which, in retrospect, wasn't the best comparison, but my mind made it anyways.

This one was a boy. Collins cleared out his mouth as Derek severed the umbilical cord, and as they did so, the boy began to wail.

He wasn't human, at least, not fully. He already had a full head of hair, and it was bright blue, the same shocking color of Akira's helmet. There was, however, a streak of rebellious greyish-pewter dead center in the hair. His eyes were open. They were that same insanely orange that Akira's were, and his skin was the color of snow under the blood and afterbirth.

For a second, I thanked Mew that Akira had at least stood on two legs and lacked a tail and paws; it at least made sure the kids didn't have tails or odd ears.

"There's two." I said. "But...Akira said he only sensed two in Anna's psychic scent...what?" Collins shrugged.

"Maybe it was that Anna was close to death, and her scent might've been depleted. Not knowing there were twins, he sensed two and figured that only one was the baby."

Derek had managed to pull the other one out as Collins talked, this one an obvious female.

Her hair was the same shade as her mothers', and already almost down to her shoulders, almost like a Gardevoir or Gallade's helmet. There was a bit of blue in her hair as well, small streaks that looked more like cracks in a mirror than hair.

Her eyes were the too-wide bright orange her fathers' had been.

/His name would've been Damien/

"The boy...Anna said she wanted his name to be Damien." I blurted out, unsure of what else to say.

Dear god, how were we going to raise these kids...?

"And the girl?" Morgan said. I shrugged.

"I don't know." Morgan looked down at her.

"She looks like a Seamus." We all stared at him.

"...Sir. Seamus is a boy's name." Collins said. Morgan glared at him. "Well, I don't see you offering suggestions!" He snapped. Collins rolled his eyes.

"Well, thankfully they were about four months along; and they...appear to be...half-Pokemon, which means that the gestation period would've been shortened at any rate. They appear to be healthy enough, but I suggest that we keep them in an incubator until tomorrow."

I stared down at all that was left of Anna and Akira.

Damien and Seamus.

Well, it was better than Dick and Jane.

...The laughter that had been welling in me all night burst out like a river, and I sagged to the floor, laughing hysterically.

The entire group quirked their eyebrows. I shook my head, and sank to a prostrate position, giggling and snorting, unable to stop myself.

"Juh-je-jesus f-f-fuckin' cuh-cuh-rist, fu-fuc-fuckin' SEAMUS!" I managed to choke out before dissolving into hysterical giggles again.

Gold grinned. "Shay-mish. Howzat, little girl? You like being Shay-mish?" He slurred, taking the girl and dancing around with her.

"Let's be their daddies, Silver! C'mon, it'll be fun!" Gold encouraged, as Opal snickered.

Silver's eyes almost fell out of their sockets. "Fuck NO, I hate kids!" He shrieked, flapping his hands in a very odd sort of display of feminine insanity.

Morgan took Seamus gently from Gold's arms, and held her. She waved one hand around, and gripped his finger with the other.

"Tristan." He said. Tristan snapped to attention.

"Sir?" He asked, knowing exactly what Morgan was going to say. /Let's kill them./

"Let's keep 'em."

...Or, not.

"...Sir, they're two babies. And we're both men, and, well, can't...y'know, breastfeed." The other people in this room, even Collins and Derek, were dissolving into very undignified giggles behind Tristan's back.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "It's called a bottle, Tristan. And I'm sure MooMoo milk would work just as well." He smirked. "Unless you want to see me without my shirt off." I rolled my eyes, but everyone else just stared. Tristan squeaked indignantly,

"Of course not, sir! ...Well, yes, but no, oh, you know what I mean!" He spat, face bright red. Morgan began laughing again, and handed him Damien.

"...I'm sure I do." He said in an amused tone. Collins and Derek were stunned.

"...Sir? Tristan? Does this...um...mean, that, well...you two are in a...committed relationship?" Derek ventured, unsure of what to say about this.

Morgan shrugged. "Does it concern you?" Derek and Collins looked confused. Then both their jaws set—but before they did, I saw them smile.

"No, sir." Collins said, a muscle in his jaw twitching. I shook my head.

"If you want to laugh, go ahead." I told them, trying hard not to start laughing again myself.

Everyone stayed silent until Morgan was wheeled back to his room with the twins in his arms, Tristan still bright red.

And then we all collapsed in laughter.

Jeremy was pacing in his room, as Ursaring lazily licked blood off his paws, grunting occasionally at his trainer.

Tristan had tended to Morgan, and after assuring him Damien and Seamus would be fine in the incubator thing, went off to find Jeremy.

Tristan knocked gently on his door, and called out, "Jeremy?"

The man turned around.

"You've come to yell, haven't you?" He said. Jeremy sighed.

"...I was doing my duty. I was doing what we should do. Kill the rebels, destroy all thought of defiance, execute the perverted humans who fuck Pokemon like they're some sort of human. These are the values the New Order League believes, aren't they? So why should it matter they're both dead?"

Tristan didn't have an answer for that, really. It was true, all he said. The League was against Pokephilia, and demanded obedience to the Champion and the law. And Anna and Akira had stood against that with all they were.

But...Tristan was a part of what the New Order League stood against now. And technically, so was Morgan, who'd started the damn thing in the first place.

Oh, irony, you are a bitch.

Tristan shrugged, and said to Jeremy, "Well...sometimes, the values someone holds...well, the person might believe in them with all their heart. And even if they're wrong, that's okay, because they deserve to have an opinion of their own." Tristan began to find his words better.

"It's different, though, when you try to force your beliefs on others; especially when they hurt people. It's okay if people hold a deeply held belief in world peace, and work to make it happen, because peace would ensure no one is hurt." He took a breath.

"But it's different when you're banning things that really, you shouldn't be involved in. So if we're not gay, or attracted to Pokemon, fine. But the people that are aren't trying to force us to be gay or like Pokemon, so we should just leave them alone and ensure them their happiness." He grinned.

"We're all sentient beings. We deserve the right to love, and to be free of rules that tell us that our love is wrong, or unnatural. So...Jeremy, sometimes values shouldn't be held, because they're not really valuing anything but another person's own fears." He stopped.

"Um...sorry, I got a bit preachy. But..." Jeremy looked up at him with haunted eyes.

"Killing is all I know, Tristan." He said quietly. "I am what I am. If they take away these rules, if they take away the system, I will probably die or go mad. Why should I even care about this stuff?" Tristan frowned.

"Well, killing innocent people isn't really something you should aspire for. There are other reasons—and better people—to kill. Like fathers who hit their kids, uncles who rape their nieces and nephews, priests that use their power to abuse small children...these people deserve to die, slowly and painfully if possible. So...well, it's not like some people don't need to die. But you're killing all the wrong people." He chose his next words carefully, as Jeremy was eyeing him with an odd look.

"You shouldn't kill the victims of an oppressive system; you should kill the perpetrators." Jeremy's eyes flashed.

"That would mean killing you. And Morgan, and myself, and Collins, and Derek." Tristan shook his head.

"...I think we're trying to change. Trying to understand...though I fear the scar we've left on these people will live for a long, long time. It's too late to stop the problem, as we've let this shit fester and rot for a long time now. But we can at least admit we fucked up." He said bluntly. Jeremy just stared at him.

Tristan sighed. "She had twins. If you want to see them, well..."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

He ambled down the hallway, and sighed.

How were they supposed to admit their mistakes?

And were they really wrong in the first place? Didn't they just want to do good?

But what was really good, truly something to strive for?

...He didn't know. And, he suspected, neither did anyone else.

(Don't think for a SECOND that everything's going to go back to normal and the League is going to be all happy and tolerant, and Gold and Silver will get married. Because there's been too much time for the fundies to flourish in this society. It extends far beyond the New Order League now...Muhahaha, I still have race riots and anti-choice murderers planned...we're not even on the fifth frickin' badge...)