A CHOICE
The original ending to "Chapter 17: By the Firelight."
Dawn was breaking in the east when Cassandra awoke beneath the covers alone, the sunrise's pale, blue light filtering in through the cabin's windows. As she opened her eyes, she groggily realized that the fire had gone out, and was now nothing more than a pile of cinders in the hearth. If it weren't for the fabrics that encompassed her, she knew she would be shivering with cold, her naked flesh proving little defense against the chill that pervaded the room. Slowly she sat up, wrapping one of the blankets around herself as she did so, and blinked as she gazed around the cabin. It seemed frozen in still life without the lively, flickering light of the fire, but soon enough she found what she sought within its walls: her partner sat on the sill of the largest window, staring out into the wintry landscape that surrounded their secluded tryst. The sky, she noted with a jolt, was of clear and perfect azure hue, with only feathery wisps of white within it. The snowstorm had passed, and while on any other day the current weather might have been regarded as beautiful, Cassandra now found the open firmament loathsome. Dread pooled in her chest - their time of safety was at an end. Evidently, Mewtwo had woken sometime earlier, perhaps with the intent of standing watch for the approach of the ones surely pursing them – the tracking device in her choker would ensure they would head into this region. Now that the weather was calm, nothing remained to hinder their advance. Cassandra's hands clutched the blanket around herself tighter at the thought…she had already planned and agonized over her next course of action, one she believed to be the wisest to pursue. But could she go through with it? Looking at Mewtwo, she felt her heart twist uncomfortably within her chest. Shivering from more than the low temperature, she rose to her feet and searched for her clothes, swiftly finding them and pulling them on.
Her companion, noticing her movements, regarded her current actions with a smirk, and called out: "Getting dressed so soon?"
Peering at him with a droll look, she chuckled quietly as she pulled on her dried socks. "What? You not tired of making the naked pretzel yet? You really are an animal…I envy your stamina."
His grin widened for a fraction of a second, before he turned his eyes back to the lightening firmament, searching for what had yet to invade the mountains.
Turning her back to him, the woman fastened her belt, and then slipped on her jacket and the loaded holster of her gun. In the pocket of the first she dug, searching for the seam within its depths. Finding the loose string, she began to tug at it gently, soon tearing a small hole in the fabric. A tiny pouch, barely large enough to hold a steel ball bearing, was stuffed amongst the padding. "How long have you been keeping watch?" she asked.
In an equally casual tone, the white demon replied, "I slept perhaps six hours after drifting off with you…so, about four hours now."
She frowned, contemplating how drained he must be, both physically and psychically. "…You should have slept more, Mewtwo. It isn't healthy for you to-."
"As I mentioned to you once before, I am an insomniac. Furthermore, you were in more need of rest than I was, and I did not wish to force you to remain awake to keep vigil over me. Do not worry so. Have we not already established that I recuperate far more quickly than you do?"
Soothing as he attempted to make his voice, she noted fatigue in its depths, and could see a dullness in his eyes that bespoke of weariness. As of such, his words provided her no great comfort or reassurance….
Reaching a finger into the pouch, she felt for one of the tiny tablets within the cotton lining. Out of his sight, the female pulled out one carefully: it looked harmless, as small and pale as a snow pea. Yet gulping down two of the tablets was suicide for a human, and coma inducing for most pokémon, who could endure the chemical abuse. The female tucked the sphere beneath her tongue – the outer shell was insoluble, needing to be crunched open to release the potent powder inside. It would only prove destructive to her if she bit down and swallowed. For a moment she peered into the ashes of the fireplace with half-lidded eyes, her body stilling under the weight of what she was about to do, before she walked over to her beloved. Feeling like a second Judas, she paused before the one who loved her regardless of the evil she carried within her soul, for he extended his right arm and invited her to his side despite her sins. She stepped forward and curled herself to him, the warmth of him flowing through his cloak like a poultice to her pain. Outside, the edge of the sun's brilliant disk illuminated the peaks and forests, and cast golden light onto their faces through the glass.
Would he forgive her?
She did not know, and in her uncertainty, for a fragile, fleeting instant she considered abandoning her plans, of spitting out the capsule and remaining with him, a loyal companion until death. But…to do so meant she would damn him instead of her own soul, and in doing so she would lose him utterly. Held by him, she pressed her face into his shoulder and mused that it was not fair. It was not fair that they were doomed, that they were being forced to return to the shadows just after finding miraculous light within each other, a light with which they longed to form a future….
But existence was not fair - their lives were a testament to that fact.
Cassandra then silenced her writhing emotions and forced herself to cease stalling. To linger was to tempt fate and endanger him even more. So, softly she whispered his name, and after gaining his attention leaned forward, caressing his mouth with hers. With her back teeth, she cracked the shell of the capsule, and then slipped the disintegrating tablet into his mouth with her tongue. Breaking away, she clasped his jaws in her hands and held them tightly shut, tilting his head back as she did so. For a handful of seconds, he struggled to comprehend what she was doing and had done, and in those integral seconds the powder inside the capsule drained into his saliva, melting into a spiked liquid that he began to choke on as it pooled in the back of his throat. Breathing through his nose was impossible with the liquid there, and for precisely that reason Cassandra refused to let him out of her grasp. Although he swiftly attempted to push her away to regain the ability to open his mouth, to spit out the substance and to breathe, he was not forceful enough in his struggles, and his own body's impulses betrayed him. With panicked lungs needing fresh oxygen, his throat moved to swallow the fluid that was in the way, and as it went down and he could inhale once more, he stiffened and stared at his partner with wide eyes. As he began to tremble, she wrapped her arms around his torso, and half-carried, half-dragged him back to the blankets she'd recently left vacant. Settling him upon the covers and playing one over him so he wouldn't be chilled, she knelt beside him, watching with dull eyes as his body shook with convulsions. She could not meet his eyes, which she knew gleamed with the hurt of being betrayed, but held his paw firmly, unable to resist the gesture of solace….
"Cassandra…what have you…?"
In a dull, tired voice, she murmured to him, "What I gave you was a concentrated dose of a sedative-hypnotic, which usually renders an adult, human male unconscious for about eighteen hours. Considering your high metabolism though, I don't believe it will keep you under for more than a third of that. I…I apologize, but since I doubted you would let me go without an argument – an argument we don't have time for - this was the only way I could think of that would keep you safe. It will separate us long enough for me to draw the bastards away…after all, they're tracking me right now, not you."
The more she spoke the heavier her body felt, unwilling to move though her mind commanded it. Steeling herself for departure, she fleetly kissed Mewtwo's face one last time and said: "Please don't come after me this time. You told me I could chose my own path if I wanted, even if it was away from you, and that you'd accept it if I did. So that's what I…what I need you to do: I need you to go on living, without me."
And to drive the nails of her resolve into him, she whispered into his ear in a firmer voice: "Don't make me your only hope for happiness, Mewtwo…and don't try to save me. You'll die trying, and I won't have that. I've lost too many of the people I cared about to that man; I won't let him kill you too!"
Then, finally, her strength broke – tears stung and flowed from her eyes onto his face, and she squeezed his fingers within her own. "Th-thank you, though," she murmured, "Thank you for trying. I wish…!"
No…now was not the time for sentimental declarations. As it was, there never would be a moment for them, but this was a time of haste and underlying regret. She would leave now before her will shattered completely, and her crumpling heart would take strength from the idea that at least he would be okay – heartbroken, perhaps, but he would escape Giovanni's wrath. Still, she wanted to lie beside him so terribly…but instead she pulled away from his warmth, stood, and turned away from him. With heavy steps, she went to the door and tugged it open; the brisk, frigid air froze the tear streaks on her face. A world of white stretched before her, contrasting her wretchedness with its purity, and made her feel akin to the most repulsive of creatures for this act of treachery. Though she warned herself not to do so, told herself it was best to walk away without showing a single sign of uncertainty, she looked back at him. His image imprinted itself into her memory: of him pushing himself up upon one arm, struggling to rise among the blankets, his being trying to make her stop from going through with the departure and failing in the task. Perspiration had broken out across him in his fight against the sedative, his eyelids drooped and his eyes shifted in and out of focus, and his paws clutched the sheets beneath him. His cloak twisted about his form, concealing the pale and deep violet fur she had felt against her skin in hours previous. And then his voice called out, soft and labored, (Cassandra…dove…wait. Don't….)
He nearly broke her resolve with those few words. But in the end, she merely clenched her hands into fists and said, "I'm sorry…I hope you'll understand someday."
Those words spoken, she stepped out into the snow and closed the door behind her. Before the notion of changing her mind could grip her, she began to run through the white dunes, waves of ice flying before her as she made her way. Beneath her clothes, which were scarcely proper for this frozen environment, she grew soaked and hot from the reckless exertion of her muscles, but she pressed onward, making a path for herself into the iced forest. She did not pause to open the slits in the back of her jacket, through which she could thrust her wings; for though she would travel faster by air, for the next couple of minutes she needed to feel her body burn, and be surrounded by the corpses of trees, rather than a bright and peaceful dawn. She needed to run away from him; needed to allow herself a moment to regain enough control over herself to cease her weeping. Only then would she fly from this place, for only then would the act be reasonable. As she struggled to compose herself, she could hear her heart pounding hard beneath her ribs, in a constant, thunderous rhythm, its beats in time with her racing steps as she made her way a fourth of a mile from the cab-.
No….
…That wasn't her pulse pounding in her ears.
The rhythm was far too slow for that!
With rising horror, Cassandra halted as she recognized the noise for what it was: a helicopter beating its blades in the still, cold air. She looked up through the bony branches of the trees above her, the witnesses to her so-called ungodly relationship with her mate, who seemed to beseech retribution from a deity above upon the pair for their indiscretions. And they would have it; Cassandra comprehended this as the sound became ever louder, echoing off the crags until it drowned out everything else. The roar reached its zenith as the black vehicle swooped through the air over the treetops above her, and for an instant the woman prayed it would discover her, hover there, and shoot her into bloody pieces rather than what she knew would truly occur. Her plea was not answered; the aircraft flew onward hurriedly, the focus of its occupants upon another location…the location she had just abandoned. Without a thought to her own safety, Cassandra sprinted back the way she'd come: there was no way she could hope to arrive at the cabin before the vehicle reached it, no way she could drag the clone to safety, no matter how fast she ran. It was hopeless attempt, but still Cassandra ran, desperate to defend the life of someone far more precious to her than her own. In her mind's eye, she visualized the impossible: of reaching him first and waking him, and somehow finding a way to escape the ones who now threatened them. If she had known her old organization was this close…if she had known, she-!
The clearing of the cabin sprung before her, and over it hung the helicopter, menacing as a poisonous, hungry wasp above a harmless ant. As Cassandra sprinted forward, screaming, she watched as the bottom of the vehicle unhinged, watched as the missile-carrier lowered and aimed….
And then she watched, helpless to do anything more, as they fired.
Within an instant the cabin was obliterated, the blinding flash of its destruction impregnated with shards of woods, ash, and flames. Its explosive force knocked her from her footing, making her stumble and fall back into the trees. As her head struck the ice-encrusted tree trunk behind her, she blacked out for a few, blissful moments. Yet even unconscious, she could feel the stinging pain of burning debris and sharp twigs against her exposed skin, and greater than them the sensation of something deep within her snapping apart and wrenching a piece of her heart with it. Upon awaking she opened her eyes slowly…and they shot wide as she saw what little remained of the cabin was ablaze, its innards exposed to the smoky sky above it. The aircraft that had caused its ruin circled once before darting off, but Cassandra paid it little mind. She struggled to her feet and ran forward…she heard herself shrieking out a single word over and over again in a desperate, mournful scream. She dashed recklessly into the fire and cinders, her eyes reflecting the devilish flames surrounding her. He must be there somewhere…he could not be gone…! Yet little was recognizable among the incinerated wreckage. Regardless, she fell to her knees and dug her hands into the grey, searing ashes, refusing to believe them to be those of cremation, and in them she searched for something, anything of him. She found nothing left of her dearest, not even shard of bone or a seared scrap of his cloak. For a horrid second, hope began to form in her despair, like an embryo growing rapidly in the womb. Perhaps he had somehow teleported away in time to escape this destruction, perhaps he'd-.
But no, no, that was impossible! Although he had withstood explosions of this magnitude before, he had always done so using his psychical shield. However, she herself had left him even weaker than he had been, drugged and unconscious, incapable of using his abilities to defend himself…and as resilient as his physical body was, even he was made of vulnerable matter, of fragile flesh and breakable bone. It was not possible for him to have fled or survived this assault…and in evidence of that cruel, merciless truth, the empty place within her chest pulsed sharply, making her hunch over in anguish. Mewtwo…her Mewtwo…was gone. Their bond, the metaphysical cord which had been palpable until seconds before the attack, now lay in tatters, no longer binding her to anything. From somewhere beyond the smothering darkness surrounding her, she realized she was weeping, calling his name, begging God to make his death void, begging for her partner to be alive in some distant region of the world. Yet truth overwhelmed her delusions, and beneath her inhuman howling memories of him surfaced: of his amethyst eyes gazing down into hers as he moved above her, filling her body with his…of the feel of his arms embracing her, firm and warm…of the scent of his fur in her nostrils as she buried herself against him…of the sound of his voice, filled with passion as he murmured her name…of the taste of his mouth on her lips, faintly sweet….
Yet now her mate was gone and dead, and her own will to live was consequently foiled by his demise. Vaguely, she realized that soon she might possess the chance to join him in a fiery grave, for the scouting helicopter that had fired the lethal missile would return with the main force shortly. When they did it would be her turn to die, and in dying, she would follow Mewtwo into the abyss. All she needed to do was remain here, in the ashes of her love, and wait for them to arrive and send her after him…she might even thank them for the kindness. For what point was there in living in a world in which he no longer existed, in one in which her final possession – her connection with him – had been stolen from her…?
And yet something within her, so minuscule it was barely noticeable, like a kernel floating in a black ocean, was pleading for her to run...to live.
Staring into the ashes, she questioned that plea. Why? What's the point? He's gone…he's gone, and I enabled his destruction. I would rather die than continue to struggle now…and there's no reason to prolong the wait. I can't endure this world anymore…why bother fighting when there's nothing left to protect?
Regardless of her thoughts, that shard of her persisted in its cry: Run, run…live!
THERE'S NO POINT! Her soul screamed back…but the voice did not fall silent.
It retorted that her lover would not have wanted her to give up, and to that Cassandra laughed bitterly. Where could she go that Team Rocket could not find? Who could she go to that would not condemn her as a traitor or a murderer? Whether she remained here or ran, there was nothing in the universe she would gain by either route; the peace of oblivion would just arrive sooner if she did the former, and she would only suffer longer if she did the latter. What did continuing to survive matter when agony would prove her sole reward? And why, realizing those cruel realities, did she rise from the ashes and turn her back on the fire, as if honestly contemplating moving forward?
Run…run…RUN!
And then Cassandra Bracken did what she regarded as unthinkable:
She ran for her life.
…Nearly a thousand miles away, a wounded being thrashed within a cluster of thorny bushes, the barbed branches tearing into its burned flesh like razor blades. Its fur had been singed to the skin, its dark blood stained the snow beneath it, and it howled to the morose sky of the torment it experienced. Floating above it amongst the barren treetops, his pink form contrasting the grey-blue of the winter firmament, an elderly pokémon gazed down at the suffering creature with saddened eyes. It might be better if the being had died in the attack it had endured, but no…it had escaped its foes and survived against the odds. The watcher winced upon hearing its cries, upon seeing the physical and emotional anguish within its deadened, unfocused eyes. As it struggled to rise, it called out a single word, formed of three syllables, in a desperate, searching call. As the old one floated down to the child nearly dead from a combination of heat and chemicals and shock, he detected a trace aroma upon the younger creature, there beneath the sour stink of copper and smoke: it had recently been with a female – the Legendary could smell the tell-tale stench of the act, and understood now that the name it spoke belonged to its mate…the mate he never thought the demon would have taken for itself….
As the being began to collapse into the snow, the ancient feline grasped it within his telekinesis and teleported them far from the frozen land to a place in which he could tend to the injured one. At random, the recent memories of the other flickered in his mind as he sought to divine what had led to its sudden ruin, and they revealed in full what it had endured and done. As he pieced together the events of days just past, Mew's face contorted frightfully, and he cursed the child in his own language: "Damn you, brother…what have you done, you stupid, foolish boy?"
The creature did not respond…its thoughts were elsewhere, circling around the female: the young keeper of its secret heart.
As its elder began to move it into the mossy shelter, it screamed once more in the deepest throes of anguish, its fierce voice tearing through the warmer air like a frozen blade into yielding flesh: it yelled for the bird of peace. Displaying mingled mercy and kindness, the Legendary increased the air pressure around the wounded one suddenly, effectively knocking it unconscious. He knew well that no serenity would come to it now, and perhaps not for some time to come. It would be months before his ward regained the full use of its elemental abilities and recovered enough health to travel…and it would be even longer before it found what it was seeking in the ever-shifting world.
It would take five years, in fact. It would take half a decade for it to find its mate once more…and when it did, every detail of their lives would have changed.
Every detail, except for one.