"How is she?" Sheridan asked.
"She hasn't said a word to anyone. She's not fighting, but if looks could kill, we'd all be dead," Pollie answered. "I'm about to go in and sit for a while. I figured she could use the company, whether she wants it or not."
The guard opened the door to the dim room where Morai lay still, holding the same blank expression she had kept for the past day since she had awoken in her prison bed, only looking away to glare daggers at people. She kept replaying that night in her head, so much so that it became the subject of her dreams and melded the line between them and reality. She thought that if she just keep running, she might actually make it one lucky time.
"I know you like music, so you can listen to what I've been working on," Pollie said, snapping her out of her daydreaming. She sat down in a chair beside the bed and took her banjo in hand. She figured that playing something high-energy while Morai laid confined to a bed would be like hitting her upside the head with the instrument, so she played slow, wordless tunes that were akin to lullabies. She played for nearly an hour until she stopped rather abruptly.
"I feel bad, you know," she said. "I keep thinking about what would've happened if we were too late, or if I somehow convinced Sheridan to let you go. If that would've happened...you would've died, no question. Sometimes I ask myself if that would've been better than this. I didn't want to see you like this, laying here all sad and pitiful looking. But I did want you to live. I wanted to talk to you again...and I hoped you'd want to talk to me. I can't tell you what's going to happen because I don't know. But I know that your vow of silence won't do anything about it, so you might as well say something."
Pollie paused, looking up and waiting for an answer. When none came, she sighed and continued her playing.
"I don't blame you," she said after abruptly stopping again. "I think it was stupid, but I can't say I wouldn't run if I found myself cornered, facing what you are. If anything, you've bought yourself more time. But the day is still coming. Are you just going to walk silently into it?"
Morai still didn't answer, only moving her eyes to look at the guard. She had probably recovered enough energy to hypnotize her, but she didn't, and Pollie recognized it.
"Have you given up?"
As expected, Morai still said nothing. Pollie knew it would be the case, but threw the question out for her to ponder anyway. She continued to play until Morai fell asleep, and Morai found herself lying next to her dream counterpart.
"Hey," Past Morai greeted. Morai didn't answer.
"Me too?"
Morai only stretched out her now free limbs and jaw, but she could almost still feel the restraints on her skin. The line between dreams and reality was seemingly thin for reasons she didn't know, nor did she care to think about it too much.
"Have you given up?" her counterpart asked, echoing Pollie's question and turning to her with a frown that showed a rare hing of anger. "After all of the work I've done to keep those nightmares at bay? After I've spent day after day looking after a world created by our own psyche, holding onto the memories of the people you sent away because you forgot them among all of your drug-fueled violent sprees? I know I'm the reason I'm here, and there's only so much I can do to help you, but...damn it, Morai! You won't help yourself! You nearly killed yourself trying to escape a place that is supposedly inescapable, and that's it? You're going to bow your head in acquiescence and let them do whatever they want to you because you couldn't prove the title they gave you wrong? You're going to let us—Morai, the name we share, die like that, fading into nothing while you're called something like 001 for the rest of your life? Is that truly a fighter's end?...Or do you even care what end you face anymore?"
Morai still lay looking up at the sky, no sound coming from her mouth other than slightly labored breathing. Past Morai questioned for a moment whether her counterpart had even heard her. She felt immediate regret knowing she had briefly lost her temper. That wasn't allowed here. She wasn't supposed to do that as someone who was supposedly so wise. Someone with her responsibilities couldn't get caught up in selfish emotions like that, or Morai as a whole, which included her, would fall to ruin. Losing control is what put Morai, the one who failed after her, where she is now. She knelt down beside her namesake.
"I'm sure you're in pain," she said. "Mentally, physically, and emotionally. But this is the one time that you probably shouldn't do what they want you to do. You can find another way. You've made friends, Morai, friends that don't want to see you meet that fate either."
Morai awoke to find herself in her usual spot, barely aware that she had stopped dreaming. There was silence aside from the beeps of the monitors still hooked up to her. Pollie had left and a new guard had taken her place. His form, barely illuminated by the eerie hospital light, stood almost as still as she did, but she could feel his eyes watching her. She could hypnotize him if she wanted, but she saw no point. Even if she were freed, she wouldn't accomplish much. She lied there instead, closing her eyes and replaying the events of her attempted escape.
Someone opened the door, and the smell of warm food instantly hit the prisoner's dry nose. It was almost a shock after smelling nothing but antiseptic and her own blood, the scent of which had grown to disgust her. Morai didn't bother to see who brought it. She wasn't going to eat it anyway. She looked over to see Sheridan standing beside her bed, holding the tray. She did nothing, unsurprisingly.
"It's your favorite," the warden said. "Waffles."
Morai wasn't even polite enough to turn her head. Sheridan set the plate down, excused the guard from his duties, and took the restraint off of Morai's head. The prisoner only responded by stretching her jaw and neck with a sigh, which turned into a yawn. She wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to stretch while free from those uncomfortable restraints if she was given one. After adjusting herself into what she hoped would be a more comfortable position for the rest of her body, however, she simply put her head back onto her pillow and closed her eyes. She heard a sigh come from the warden.
"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish with your silence and hunger strike, but it will end with you being fed through a tube or an IV, neither of which are comfortable. You're making yourself suffer for no reason, as your protests will not be met with a change in the International Police's decision. I've already tried, and the most they've budged is giving you adequate time to recover. There is nothing you can do, so you might as well make things a little easier on yourself by eating. Besides, if you don't eat, you'll rapidly lose the muscle and strength you so greatly value. You'll become weak, Morai, susceptible to attack, and I don't think you want that."
The last words in Sheridan's lecture were the spur in Morai's side that finally got her to do something. She sighed a long sigh and nodded her head towards the plate. Sheridan lifted the head of her bed so that she could sit up and undid the restraints around her wrists. When the plate was handed to her, Morai gave Sheridan a look that said "really?" as she picked up the spoon from it.
"Just a precaution," the warden said. "The way you've been looking at everyone lately, I wouldn't be surprised if someone left this room with a fork in their neck."
The waffles were slightly soggy by now, losing their slight crispness around the edges that made them so good. It made eating them with a spoon a little easier, though. Morai felt as though she had lost some sort of silent battle. As if eating food made by their hands somehow solidified the International Police's victory over her.
"Mrs. Lochlynn sends her well wishes for your recovery," Sheridan said as Morai ate. "Are you feeling any better?"
Morai didn't answer. She ate half of a waffle with a frown and set it aside.
"Look," Sheridan said. "I know this isn't easy for—"
Morai silently cut her off with a sharp wave of her still free hand and a shake of her head. She didn't want to hear another lecture. The warden nodded, took her plate, and left. When the guard returned, he refastened all of the restraints keeping Morai's battered body from moving too much. Before long, as she was nearly asleep under the watchful eye of the guard, another opening and closing of the door snapped her out of it. She looked to see who it was this time, as she couldn't think of anyone else who'd want to visit besides perhaps Yvette or the doctor...until she saw Maria standing in the doorway, of course.
"Morai," she half-greeted-half-stated, as if it was necessary to acknowledge that Morai was still alive and in prison. "You're here."
Truthfully, the prisoner didn't want to see Maria very much. She knew she had left her without even trying to see her. She didn't even think to before bursting through that window. Besides, love only seemed like another burden now. Did even she still love Maria? Did she love her in the first place, or was it only Maria's wish?
"All of things they have you in," Maria muttered. "It's a bit overkill, if you ask me."
With a glance back to the guard, she slowly and casually went to undo one of Morai's wrist straps.
"Don't touch those!" the guard shouted. It was the first time she'd heard him speak."She'd probably kill you if it meant she could escape. They're there for a reason."
"She wouldn't," Maria insisted with a frown. Morai noticed that she still wore a ribbon around her neck. It reminded her that her taste for blood was well past the point of unbearable. It had been even before she tried to escape, but the pain of the unfulfilled bloodlust seemed to meld into the pain of the injuries she had suffered.
Would I? she asked herself. If it guaranteed my escape?
"I was worried I wouldn't see you again. When I heard that you had left the building, I was afraid you might die out there," Maria sighed as she sat herself on the edge of the bed, being careful not to disturb Morai's cut-up legs from the fence. "I was afraid I wouldn't get a goodbye."
Morai, as usual, didn't say anything.
"You're really not going to speak a word, not even to me?" Maria asked, a hint of pain in her voice. There was nothing but silence in turn. Morai only looked at her, her eyes being the only thing uncovered on her pitiful-looking face. The former nurse walked up to her and put a hand on her cheek.
"We can talk later," she softly said. She sauntered out of the room and Morai went back to what she had been doing for the past day. Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.
"Do you care about her?" the guard asked, walking to her bedside. "That's a yes or no question. You can nod or shake your head."
Morai didn't move her head. She simply moved her eyes to look at the man, who she had never seen before. It dawned on her that he was probably stationed there by the man from the International Police that Sheridan had spoken to.
"How could someone...something like you manage to earn the trust and love of someone without even trying? And how heartless do you have to be to pretend that you have one?"
Silence.
"What, are you just not going to speak again, ever? I won't tell anyone if you say something."
Silence.
"Tsk. Fine," he finally said with a sigh before starting to walk back to his usual spot. Morai hit the railing of her bed with her hand to get him to stop and turn around. She tried to speak with her hands, but the restraints were too short.
"I don't get it," the guard said with a shrug of his shoulders. "You're going to have to either say something or...here." He dashed out of the room for a few seconds, returning with a pad and pen. "Write the best you can."
The prisoner attempted to scribble a word onto the pad with one hand, but it still proved illegible.
"Yeah...no. I have no idea what that is. Either spit it out or you won't get what you want."
With a sigh, Morai went back to lying still, staring up at the ceiling which morphed into a canvas for her dreams. It was the setting for that one scene, over and over again, pulling the prisoner into itself to relive that night again and again.
"We should take a walk. You need to move around and get some air," Sheridan said the next morning. It was morning for Morai, anyway. In reality, it was about two in the afternoon. The warden began to undo the restraints around her wrists and ankles, leaving the one on her head on. She handcuffed her in the front so that her IV wasn't obstructed. For the first time in days, Morai moved more than a few inches. She moved her aching body off the bed, gently putting her feet onto the floor while Sheridan fetched her boots.
Morai was nearly clinging to the IV stand but refused any sort of help. Leaving her hospital room was jarring. While she lied helpless in bed, she had often found herself hoping that nothing was beyond the door she stared at. She had almost hoped that she was in some kind of purgatory, and crossing the threshold of that door would be her path to eternal peace. As she crossed it now, however, nothing changed.
"I thought we'd go to the garden," Sheridan said. "It's not too bad out."
As they finally reached the garden area, Morai sat down on the bench with a big sigh. It felt like her body was fighting against her, and she hated it. She found herself coughing, the cold air assaulting her airways.
"Too much?" Sheridan asked. The prisoner shook her head. "Still not talking, I guess."
Morai didn't say anything, of course. She probably would've forgotten what her own voice sounded like already if it weren't for Past Morai. The way the two of them spoke was a bit different, but their voice was the same nonetheless.
"I wish I had something to tell you," the warden continued. "But truthfully, I don't. Our time together is likely coming to an end soon, as they won't need me anymore. I'm not sure where they're going to take you or what they're going to do, exactly, but I'll advocate for you the best I can...I'm sorry, Morai."
Morai only looked at Sheridan a moment before looking back towards the broken stained glass window a ways down the wall. It had been boarded up.
"You got pretty far," Sheridan said. "I was honestly a little impressed. Initially, we were worried about the lack of Pokémon that would be useful in guarding the place. Arthur had his Tauros that he used to stop you the first time, but, well..."
Morai looked at her again with a questioning expression.
"Team Rocket has him," she said. "According to the sources we have, he's alive. They're just...keeping him there, for some reason. They're trying to get information about you, me, or the location of this place, maybe. He'll be alright. He can hold his own. He wouldn't be a police chief otherwise."
Sheridan was trying to reassure herself, more than anything. She wasn't sure whether Morai really cared. Her and Arthur never really saw eye to eye, anyway. One of the last times they had encountered each other, in fact, was him berating her for being too close to his daughter.
Morai, despite her pain, ended up falling asleep while still sitting on the bench. Sheridan thought that strapping her to a bed for days would have the opposite effect. Not wanting to disturb her, the warden had a guard fetch a blanket for her. She sat beside her sleeping prisoner, letting silent minutes go by as she reflected.
"I failed, really," she sighed, speaking to someone who wouldn't hear. "This is my fault more so than yours. You had little control over your own actions, and it was my job to help you. But like you, I seemed to be split into two. I was caught between protecting a child and punishing a monster as you, too, shifted between behavior. This whole thing was handled terribly and I sat at the head of it all. Now my daughter is scarred, my husband is missing, and you are...I don't know what you are. You're going to be shipped off somewhere, I think. Trained...'reprogrammed' so to speak, so that you do the International Police's bidding without fail. Perhaps I should have let you have your end in dignity, out there...alone."
Sheridan quietly got up to survey the garden for what could be the last time. She didn't know what was going to become of the cathedral-prison. Perhaps it would be best if everything, all the bloodshed and failed attempts to save a soul, were left behind and forgotten. Perhaps it would be best if the world collectively forgot about its greatest Champion and hero instead of clinging onto her past.
"Now, only time can heal the—"
Morai had leapt from the bench, yanking the IV out of her arm in the process. She didn't go for blood, but instead put the chain of her handcuffs in front of the warden's neck and pulled backwards, trying to cross her wrists behind it for a more effective choke. Rage that had sat dormant for days and even weeks before had sprung to life, overpowering the prisoner's lust for blood. Pollie happened to be on her way to the garden when she saw the scene unfold. The guard rushed to scan her keycard and burst through the door.
"Morai!" she called as she tried to pull her off of Sheridan. Perhaps the most unsettling part of it all was that Morai had no quips or motive like she usually did. The unsettling smile that had become associated with her wasn't present, a blank expression in its place, save for the eyes, at least. They held hatred and rage in them.
Morai found herself in a coughing fit after one of her cuffs was unlocked, rendering her attempt useless and causing her to stumble. She got on her knees and leaned against the bench. There was a small trail of blood running down her arm. She looked over and found Pollie holding Sheridan with one arm and pointing a gun at her with the other.
"D-don't do it," Sheridan coughed. "There's nothing she can do now. She doesn't have the energy."
Sheridan was right. It had taken all of Morai's strength to do what she had just done, or tried to do. She didn't resist as she was taken back to the hospital room, where she had another failure to ruminate over as she lie stiffly in the bed. She wasn't sure what she had been trying to accomplish, anyway. Hours passed as she lied alone in the dark, alone except for the guard standing watch over her.
Morai saw the glimmer of an Aether Employee pin as a nurse entered the room. She closed her eyes again, not caring enough to watch whatever was about to happen, but the sound of the guard grunting in pain and being put to the floor made them shoot back open. It was hard to see in the dark, even with her eyes aglow to the apparent potential danger. The mystery silhouette approached her bedside, but per Interpol's intention, there was nothing she could do about it. She opened her mouth to issue a warning, but found that no sound was coming out. Was she afraid? She wriggled in her restraints, trying to break lose, but it was no use. The figure reached her bed, looming over her. Helpless, Morai waited in anticipation, staring back at the shadow. Suddenly, a sharp pain hit her neck and a feeling she had almost forgotten returned with a force she couldn't handle.
Morai screamed out in pain, and the figure quickly ripped her mask off and covered her mouth.
"Shhh!" it scolded. Morai didn't care to listen, instead biting the hand with a power she didn't previously have as tears rolled down her face. The figure held her own scream in as she tried to rip her wrist away. She rushed to undo Morai's restraints, as per the plan, and used an electric baton to get her to let go. The prisoner jumped up from her bed only to fall to the floor, clutching her neck.
"T-this is stronger," she whimpered through shaky breaths, breaking her silent protest. "I-it's going t-to kill me!"
"No, it won't," the figure said. Morai recognized that voice from somewhere, but she couldn't place it. What felt like fire ran through her veins, causing her to writhe in pain on the floor.
"It's killing me!" she insisted, grabbing onto the other trainer's ankle.
"You can handle it. Don't be a baby," the trainer said, wrenching her ankle free from Morai's death grip whilst gripping her arm. The damage wasn't too bad thanks to her thicker clothing and gloves, but it still hurt. As the serum took hold of Morai's body and brain, extreme pain turned into euphoria, and her gasps for air turned into laughs.
"I remember you," she said, standing up and facing Ava, the Team Rocket grunt she had seen before when it was time for another dose of serum. She expectantly licked her teeth and lips, but was disappointed at the lack of blood. It had only stained the grunt's clothes. "And now, I'm going to thank you in the worst way."
"No, you're not," Ava said. "You've got a prison to take over."
