CHAPTER 5: MONOPOLY ON SUFFERING

The hot waters of the spring he floated in swirled about the alpha lazily, suffusing his sore muscles with warmth and cleansing him of the impurities of the past few days of recuperation. He breathed in the hot mists that rose from the water around him, allowing himself to fully relax, to let go of the thoughts and worries of his mind.

Like his body, his mind needed to be relieved of stress. In this place, in this isolation, he could forget his responsibilities for a moment. He could forget how the others depended on him, forget the threats that faced his band of misfits. In all other hours of the day, musings on them would prevail. But here he could breath for his own sake. Here he could set aside his duties, at least for a moment, and savor existing in what little way he could.

Then he would return and be their indestructible leader once more, as was his fate.

He allowed himself to sink into the hot spring fully…the aquatic environment was strangely comforting in a nostalgic way. He had lived in the embrace of liquid long before he'd awakened to the world…since before he knew how to dream….

A sound from above alerted him to the presence of another. He opened his eyes, bringing the top of his head above the surface of the foaming water. Through the mists, he saw a figure moving—a figure that walked on two legs and had the feel of an omega in his senses. A human. Briar. Briar was here, likely to bathe. Indeed, as he watched from his own spring, she began to undo the ties of her cloak, letting it slip away, revealing the full of her thinly clad body. He should make his presence known before she striped herself completely of her clothes, yet he did not speak. As long as she did not discover that he was watching her, there would be no issue here. It was not as if he was human in body. Not fully, anyway. Seeing her naked flesh had not affect him before, nor would it now.

She slipped the remainder of her clothes off…for a moment, he observed each detail of her, taking in the slight curves of her form, the warm colors of her sleek body, before he shut his eyes and turned away. She was an attractive creature, if one could look past the burn scars, and her bony, stern features. He could sense her comfort in cleansing herself, her enjoyment and peace. He could hear the water movement of the pool she stood within.

"She had a special place in her heart for you. She likes you," Ninetalestwo had said. What did that mean and what might it lead to?

Nothing, he told himself. Not only were they of different species, but neither of them had the time nor desire to pursue something more than they already possessed, correct? It was not possible…nor did either of them need companionship. They'd both proven it countless times.

Yet was that what was wanted? To be alone?

What right had he to even think upon these matters? He was an abomination, a shadow of life. She had been born into this world. She deserved to be with a true being if she came to yearn for a mate, for a child. Yet another thing he could not give her. Like affection, like utter devotion, like love, even the fruit of a shared longing would not exist. He wondered why he even pondered such a thing. He had no desire to take a partner. Nor did she, he suspected.

With a sigh, he rose from the water, and disappeared from her presence.

Nearly fourteen weeks had passed since Briar had joined the ranks of the clones, and the main reason behind her presence there was slowly coming to fruition. Nidoqueentwo's pregnancy was progressing at a steady pace, and Briar deemed it about time that they checked on what was growing in her stretching womb. After discussing the machines, she would need to look into the mother-to-be's thick hide, Mewtwo adjusted the workings of his surveillance unit, adding mechanisms to the screen that would aid them in peering into Nidoqueentwo's belly to find her developing offspring.

Once arrangements were made, the two future parents lay side by side in Mewtwo's chamber, the woman slathering an icy gel onto the other female's abdomen, then rubbing the ultrasound device along the slick hide, watching the grayscale images on the screen before her. Soon Enough she was smiling, pointing out the fetuses crowded in the bodily nursery. They were still too small to be of easily discernable species, but Briar confirmed that there were nine children in the litter, and that they appeared healthy thus far in their development. A relieving thing, considering their hybrid nature and their parentage. The couple gazed at the screen in wonder, and delight, glancing at each other with soft, happy gazes. Not caring that they were not alone, they nuzzled each other in joy. Nine—it was an excellent number, the beginning of what would likely be a large family between them if all went well. If anything, it proved to Briar two very important things: not only were the clones apparently fully capable of reproducing successfully, but they could also love just as much as anyone else.

Some fellow breeders did not think pokémon cared about love when choosing their mates, but this was evidence against that theory. After all, they could not have known that their seeds would be potent when they'd mated. It was just as likely that the cloning process would have rendered them sterile. But still, they had become lovers…and while their mutual similarities were likely a factor in that, it seemed that it had taken more than matters of conception to draw them together.

With that thought, and with viewing the full happiness that the two had over the new life they'd made, Briar began to feel her own giddiness seep away. As she wiped the gel from Nidoqueentwo's abdomen, saving the images into a file in the computer, she turned quiet and somber. That mates were too preoccupied to notice, but after he had powered off the machines, Mewtwo stared after her, as though sensing her keen change in mood—which was likely the case, given that he was an empath. But he did not quest her, nor follow her as she left. She wasn't of the mind to feel hurt by the lack of a gesture.

That night she sat at the edge of the ice outside, looking out towards where the carcass of the tyranitar had been before they'd buried it. How odd that seemed to her, the way death had tried and failed to mingle with life. The forces constantly intertwined with one another, courted like lovers who despised one another, creating a ruthless, sacred, fragile harmony in the plains of existence. They flowed into one another, merging in a grey mixture that could be so hard to discern between. She wondered then at where she fell—her body was alive, but her soul? Was it dead as other had so wished, or did she cling to being still? She took the lighter from her pocket and turned it over in her hands. It had been her father's and the thought of him made her light the flame it promised. She watched it dance within the crisp air, then slowly, surely, brought it beneath her downturned, left palm. The heat warmed her calloused flesh, but soon enough it began to burn, searing and making her cells cry to be taken from the golden glow. She held it closer. The will over her instinctual feelings and urges, and the pain, now cold since her nerves were being so abused, reminding her of what she had caused by merely having been allowed to live….

Then the lighter was torn from her grasp by an invisible force. She cried out more in surprise than hurt, and glanced to where it had darted. Mewtwo had come to her. Perhaps he'd been there all along these last few hours, watching over her as he would any of the others. At first, she merely stared up at him, wondering what his reaction would be. Yet while his expression did seem to indicate displeasure, it more seemed in the vein of disapproval and concern than anger.

He walked to her side and looked out across the frozen lake. "Tell me, Briar, how long has it been since you last deemed it fit to wrongly punish yourself? Do you feel better now that your hand smarts and reminds you of your darkest thoughts each time you try to use it? Are you satisfied now that you've harmed yourself?"

The questions were rhetorical. He already knew the answers to them. So he merely gently took her arm and nodded for her to rise. "Come. Your injury must be attended to. I do not wish hindered during your work."

Without a word Briar followed him, feeling liquid begin to pool in her cusped, seared palm. They reached his quarters soon enough, and the creature rubbed her hand with honey balm and wrapped it…but did not let her go. Instead he sighed, gazing up at her. "Why have you done this? Is this life you have here so horrible and stressful that you must do yourself harm to cope? Do you miss your kind so much?"

There was a tone his voice carried that she could not recognize what she merely shook her head, "That isn't why. Just seeing Nidoqueentwo and Rhyhorntwo earlier, so happy…it led me to think about things that I shouldn't have. It's nothing, Mewtwo, really…it won't happen again."

"I hope that is so—a repeat of this incident will deeply distress the others—they have grown quite fond of you over the course of time."

But had he? She wondered why it mattered to her, but came upon no straight answer. Mewtwo rose then from his seat, releasing her somewhat soothed hand…his eyes glimmering wryly, "But perhaps I can understand your concern. The children those two have conceived cannot be facing a bright future. More than even their parents, they are shadows, umbras of conception. No matter how those two will dote on them, it changes nothing of their fate—to have been born from the shadows and hence doomed to wander within them for the rest of their lives. It seems almost cruel of their sire and dam. I can think of few worse ways to come into this world then how those offspring must…."

For a moment, Briar could only stare at him…and then, all her butter emotions from the day rose to the surface, and she stepped forward purposefully…and with her one good hand, slapped her alpha across the face.

He was too stunned to respond, only able to listen as she seethed.

"Excuse me? You can think of 'few worse ways to come into this world' than from a couple of clones? What the hell is that supposed to mean? That they're condemned to be abominations just because of their parentage? At least those children were made in love! Just because you and the rest of your fellow weren't doesn't mean you have a right to claim a monopoly on suffering. So you were made in a lab, Mewtwo—I'm certain there will be those who are pulsed by you because of that, but in the end, at least you were wanted! At least you had a purpose in life, no matter how unsavory you find it!"

She glanced at him and then glanced away, "Some of us are not so fortunate. Yes, you are outcasts; yes, you are hunted; and yes, for both reasons you are probably right to think you'll always be alone and misunderstood. But don't you dare bring up this melodramatic philosophy with me, or anyone else for that matter—because whether you like to believe it or not, those babies are the luckiest beings in the world. If you'd stop focusing on all the dark parts of life and start seeing it for what a gift it can be, maybe you wouldn't be so god-damned blind to that fact!"

When she met his eyes again, he saw that she was…crying. "Just because people are born, Mewtwo, doesn't mean they were supposed to exist. You're a fool to believe otherwise!"

With those words she turned away from him and ran from his presence, leaving a very shocked and bewildered creature to muse on what she had said. Never before had Briar ever lost her temper or had screamed at anyone so passionately—he had never before viewed such as emotional outburst, and her declaration stung like barbs in his skin. He could not explain why…but perhaps it could have something to do with how she, a human girl, might just be right in this manner—that it was her voice, not his, that spoke the truth.

Yet when he felt her gathering her few things in her quarters, storming out of the island and hitching a ride across the lake, he began to grow irritated. Where was she going? Even if she made it through the forest, did she expect to be able to climb up and down the mountains in the middle of the night with an injured hand? It was too cold—and ice and snow made the stone slick. He didn't understand what she thought she was doing—perhaps her heart had buried her ability to reason.

In his anger he considered letting her do what she wished. If she died, so be it. It was her choice to be so foolish to try to escape this place in such horrendous conditions. Her loss would ultimately effect very few creatures….

But he would be one of those beings. Try as he might to deny that she mattered to him. He looked to the light in the desk…what if her reaction was not her fault? What if he had merely provoked an underlying darkness, torn open an old scar with his words?

A storm began to form in the sky, heavy as his heart as he struggled with himself over what he must not choose between: Let the girl meet her fate and ultimately her doom…or bring her back, and give her a real reason to stay?

Regardless of his dilemma, it began to sleet, pouring liquid ice onto an already frigid, lovely world where something life is dreaded more than death…and for some, only brought them constant agony in being so terribly alone….