CHAPTER 3: HUMAN COMFORTS

Months passed, and winter fell cold and dark, making the air as sharp and clear as glass. The lake soon became rife with ice, the rivers crackling with the sound of colliding ice packs. Numerous wild pokémon moved to warmer climates or began to fall into their deep sleeps in their cozy, hidden dens. For the clones, they merely moved into the warmer caverns of the island, rarely venturing out if it could be helped. Briar especially was frail during this time, often left shivering in her sleep at the chilly temperatures despite the brush stuff into the gaping holes in her wall that acted as windows. Meanwhile, snow piled outside and by the spring, covering the area in a thick blanket of white fluff. Blizzards howled and rage across Purity Canyon regularly, not unlike the autumn storms. Used to it by now, Briar slept deeply when she could. She was confined, yes, but she ran about the island most of the time she was awake to attend to the clones' needs. She now knew the caves better than she'd known the town that had once been her home.

What date was it? she wondered. Surely it must be sometime in December from the weather. Were the Christmas decorations up in the village yet? Had her mother and her partner put up the tree yet? Did they even notice she wasn't there anymore? Did they care?

How long had she been here?

She didn't know, for she had never kept track of the days. Soon enough, though, she dismissed that thought and the ones before it. It didn't matter—she was better off here anyway. And this time of year had always been the worst for her anyway, with the possible exception of her birthday. While others had looked forward to both of those dates in their own lives, she'd dreaded them in hers. She'd always felt so alone on those "special" days….in part before she'd known how happy they were supposed to be. But they hadn't been for her. Never for her….

But this far from civilization, she could ignore it altogether. She could lose herself in her work and forget the pain of the holidays in her past. There was too much to occupy her time than for her to dwell in her memories like that. Kingdratwo was catching a cold, Rapidashtwo's hooves needed clipping, Wigglytufftwo was complaining about everyone's voices sounding metallic in her ears, which might be tinnitus. Not only that, but due to the close, cramped quarters, tensions were high and she needed to design exercise regimens to keep her charges in shape and their abilities sharp and to give them something to do. Not that they would follow her advice, though. Hitmonleetwo was all too happy to have a workout to spend his time on, but the others….

Regardless, in the end, fate would not allow her to be distracted from the date.

She began to find gifts outside of her door. The first was a brush made of bone, which untangled the snarls in her hair much better than her fingers had. At first the present confused her, because any of the clones could have given it to her, but no one claimed to have made it for her. She left it as a random act of kindness and did not ask about it.

The next gift was a comforter made of a thick, lush fur, woven in a soft fabric which warmed her in the colder night. At first, she was alarmed, thinking that Ninetalestwo had been skinner, but it proved to be a bloodless present. There was enough of it too that it not only covered her skin, but her head as it lay upon her pillow. And it kept away the nightmares as it did hypothermia. Again, the gift could have come from any clone. More than one possessed nimble hands, and learning how to weave loose fur would not have been so difficult with all of the bug pokémon around who could act as teachers. Carving bone would have been equally simple, for more than one of the clones had blades, and more than one was psychic.

She asked around, but still, no one knew or if they did, no one was willing to tell her. She had her suspicions now, but any ponderings she made struck her as unlikely.

Finally, the last gift was of a completely different sort. The others had practical value. But a leather-bound notebook with charcoal pencils? No, that seemed to be for her enjoyment, if she chose to use it that way. And the only creature she knew who knew enough about her previous life to know that she'd liked sketching was Mewtwo.

It seemed strange to her for him to give her gifts, though. And while she wanted to ask him about these presents, he always seemed to vanish before she could get near him, close enough to speak to him privately. Eventually she gave up, instead deciding to make use of her newfound items. In her spare time, she drew the clones, and sometimes abstract images and emotions that arose inside of her. The others observed her with interest, especially little Vulpixtwo, who loved the smell of her pencils. Oftentimes she curled up beside Briar, watching her as she worked and admiring the way she captured light and shadow. To Briar, these moments became a pleasure to indulge in, giving her a sense of peace and purpose as she sketched. Her emotions towards their leaders reluctantly warmed in her gratitude towards him for reaching out in such a tiny way. Maybe she could belong here, if only a little….

Slowly, she began to work on her next piece. Unlike the other ones in it, she hesitated to reveal it to other others, feeling both embarrassed by it, but also determined to make it perfect in her own eyes. On one clear night, the moon full in the sky, she went outside, hoping he would be there, the creature who invoked in her such mixed feelings. He was, and he seemed to glare her way before returning his gaze to the moon. To her, that was just fine. She settled down on the hard, frozen ground leaned back against another stone, and worked. Hours passed, and she completed the image and began to blur the shading into its proper tone. When she was finished, she looked up at him and found him peering at her silently. He turned and headed back towards her…and she prepared herself to show him the piece…only for him to pass her by without a word. He did not so much as glance at the picture had had rendered. For a time, Briar sat there, contemplating that, feeling an uncomfortable mixture of disappointment and relief in her heart. Usually the others wanted to see their portraits—in fact, she'd grown used to that. Yet he didn't seem to care. He had allowed her to draw him, but apparently wasn't curious about the finished product.

Or was it that he didn't want to see how he looked to her? She didn't know. He was something of an enigma and a recluse, even among his own kind. She wondered if she would ever understand him—for while she didn't want to pursue him by any means, he did perk her interest. Which a quiet sigh, she shook her head and went back inside. She didn't think she was going to understand him any better. She could accept that, no matter how much it might grate on her. After all, it wasn't like she was much different. It wasn't like she offered up her past to anyone who asked. And some of the clones had asked.

The next morning, she woke up feeling fatigued, but made herself get up. From the sounds echoing through the caverns, the others were already awake, so she could not afford to lay in bed all day, no matter if she wanted to. There was work to be done. She used her next several hours checking up on each of her charges—those who had appeared to be sickening had followed her directions and seemed to be improving. Eventually, she had nothing left to do but get some food for herself and maybe take some time to relax. She didn't really feel up for either, so she flipped through her sketches instead, fixing up what she could, though starting another piece did not sound appealing to her either today. When she came to her most recent piece, she made to skip over it when Meowthtwo and Pikatwo came over, stopping her, asking to see the picture of their leader. With reluctant, she allowed it, feeling self-conscious and even a little ill. Vulpixtwo chirped in delight and surprise when she when she noticed that care that had gone into the charcoal strokes and marks. There was something sly about her tone as she nudged Briar's arm, but she cut off whatever she was saying suddenly. Briar glanced up and saw Mewtwo standing at the cavern entrance. He then swept away, leaving a quieter atmosphere in his wake. Briar looked at the others and asked if he was always so closed off and gloomy.

Meowthtwo scratched behind his ears with his hind leg. "Most of the time. He's always been like that. He thinks being emotional blinds you to the world around you, and getting close to someone only sets you up for being betrayed. So he keeps his distance, even from us. I think he feels like things work better that way—that it avoids complications. Though if you get him going in a philosophical debate, he can get passionate about that."

Amusing though that mental image was, she frowned as she stared after the powerful clone. "I guess he's not wrong about any of that, but…that sounds lonely."

The others glanced at each other and Pikatwo muttered something about the pot calling the kettle black. She blinked at him. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. It's just that he was born into the world alone, and I guess he's perfectly okay with things staying that way. So don't fret over him too much. You'd be wasting your energy. You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped."

She didn't respond to that, but she closed her eyes. She knew he was right. She'd heard that sentiment before so many times. Still…some part of her didn't feel content with that. Yet for now, there was nothing she could do. So she let the thought fall from her mind, spending the next few hours with the clones, listening to them chattered away even though she didn't understand all of their words. But she was getting better at understanding them. Soon she couldn't need for them to talk slowly for her sake. Maybe she would even understand their leader a little better when that happened. Maybe he would stop confusing her….

Yet just like her attempting to forget the approaching holiday, that too was not meant to be, at least in the immediate future.

One particularly brisk evening, Mewtwo summoned her to his chambers, and told her to gather her bathing material and come with him. Perplexed and a little concerned—though she wasn't exactly certain why she was worried—Briar obeyed and joining him in the hallway where he was waiting for her. With a low growl, her told her to follow him into the darker depths of the caves, into areas which she had previously not been allowed to wander down into. Not that she had any reason to—they were nearly pitch dark to her eyes and none of the others under her care ever walked into these depths anyway. Mewtwo alone seemed to use these, and from how he plowed on confidentially in the dull light, she supposed that he must come down these paths with some frequency. Eventually, she saw a faint light from up ahead, her feet nearly stepping on the leader's tail as she began to speed up her pace to reach the glow. He paid her no heed, and walked onwards, and into the vast chamber ahead, not bothering to glance back to see if she was following. After a moment's hesitation, she did so, stepping into the humid and strangely hot chamber, her eyes adjusting to the faint light of the lamps that were hanging from hooks on the walls. Once she took in all that was before her, she could only stare at the secret place in surprise.

Here in the depths of the island was a chamber of hot springs.

Mewtwo stood before one steaming pool and explained, "As you probably know, Purity Canyon was formed by volcanic activity thousands of years ago. Over the centuries, the tunnels left behind by the magmas filled with ground water, which rose to the surface to form the mineral spring, and by extension, the lakes and rivers of Mt. Quena. These hot springs have their sources in veins that run parallel to the source of the mineral spring, and are closer to the magma miles beneath our feet, and are heated as a result."

"That's all very interesting, but why are you showing me this?"

"If you wish, these springs are yours to use. With the river waters being as they are now, and in such cold temperatures, it would be dangerous for you to continue bathing where you did. And hygiene is essential for all of us, but especially you." If she saw how she flinched at that, he didn't respond. "And I am the only one who uses this place with some frequency, so you are unlikely to be interrupted here. You will have more privacy, which I understand is preferred for you kind—you value your modesty more than we pokémon do. Though I suppose there much be exceptions to that."

For a moment, she didn't understand why none of the others would use this place. Then understand dawned. Most of the others were of types that didn't like warm water, and those unable to tolerate the cold cleansed themselves through personal preening with their claws and tongues. Also, navigating the labyrinth of tunnels to reach this place, where there was a perfectly good lake inlet and other water types nearby, was a more accessible alternative. And to add to that, they all possessed thick hides. She had thinner skin, which was far less resistant to icy conditions.

It struck her then that she'd also never seen Mewtwo bathe in the presence of the others before. Perhaps he didn't want them to see him in such a mundane activity, or he too liked his privacy when cleaning himself. Either way, he was sharing this place with her…which was yet another thoughtful, but sensible gift he was giving her.

"Thank you," she told him quietly. He nodded and turned away, but then paused as she added, "And not just for this. Thank you for the other things as well."

"Such as?"

For a moment, she doubted her own beliefs that he had been the one to leave her those presents. But she steeled herself and said, "The comb and the blanket, and the notebook with the pencils. Though I don't understand why you have those to me."

He did not look at her as she said, "To prevent you from being bored in the hours when you have no tasks to occupy yourself with. Who knows what your alternative would be to keep yourself amused?"

She felt herself tense. So he knew, then.

Some people ate whenever they felt discontent or in emotional pain. Some of them took risks with their lives or experimented with drugs and alcohol. She had her own, quieter alternative to that…and while she'd suspected he'd know what she'd used that lighter for, apparently, he also didn't want her to keep doing it. Though he could have just taken her lighter away to make sure that she didn't. Maybe he'd realized how valuable it was to her, though, and that she didn't want to be parted from it. Not yet, anyway. Clenching her bathing supplies against her chest, she walked deeper into the mist of the room, away from him. He left before she undressed and sank into the hot waters. The warmth wrapped itself around her like her thoughts of him, her feelings a blend of gratefulness and guilt. He might have given her much, but it was not because he cared about her. It was merely a necessity to keep her in line. The thought settled heavily on her heart—because if, the one who seemed most like her here, thought that, then what much everyone else think? If he didn't trust her, who else would? But maybe she should not have expected anything different from them. She was a human, not a pokémon, and no matter how much she wished that were otherwise, she couldn't change that fact.

Mewtwo stood in his chamber, gazing at the screen before him, which played with images of humans celebrating the birth of their savior centuries past. It was Christmas night, and incidentally, the date of Briar's—or rather, Rose's—conception. He knew this fate weighed on her heavily, knew that it colored her attitude towards the holiday with darker thoughts. She was in pain, and no number of gifts from him could alter that fact. Nonetheless, now none of the others could say that he hadn't tried to comfort her. No one could say that he'd ignored her on this important day. The day their hope of redemption was brought into this world to guide them towards love and peace and tolerance.

"Merry Christmas," he thought.

What a shame it was that she couldn't see that her creation hadn't been such a hopeless thing. What a shame it was that she couldn't see that her life meant something to the others, and even to him, in part. Maybe someday soon, she would cease dwelling on her nightmares of the things that had past and look towards the future to see what it might offer. He could not let her go, of course. Too much time had passed for that, and erasing her memories now could risk destabilizing her already shaky mind. That, and more than one clone had come up to him and told him they wouldn't forgive him if he hurt Briar, or sent her away, or drove her to leave their world the way she'd tried to leave the human one. They considered her a part of their pack now, even if she herself didn't see it. So all he could do now was try to give her reasons to want to stay. Providing her with some human comforts would, he hoped, be enough to keep her here.

And if it didn't, then he'd have to confront his deeper reasons for sharing his secrets with her. And right now, that was the one thing he couldn't do—for he might have the powers of a god, but as far as matters of the heart were concerned, he was still an ignorant as an infant. He still had much to learn about his own heart. And like Briar, he was reluctant to discover just what his contained. After all, what would he do if he found out it contained nothing more than shadows?

And what would he do if it didn't?