PETRIFY

While Cassandra seeks out sanctuary in Saffron City, Mewtwo struggles with the emotional fallout of her betrayal. This piece, originally cut from "Chapter 18: In the Snow," is no longer canon compatible, but does offer a glimpse into the previous version of the story. Originally posted in the "Cut" and "The Scintilla Anthology" collections.

The replica was dreaming…he knew this because she was there beside him, the nearness of which she had forsaken in her lust for martyrdom.

As in the world of awareness, Mewtwo lay upon his left flank, his body leaden and his burns stinging, but though he was unconscious, his mind was yet swift and sharp, like a falling razor upon a vital vein. He realized well that the warmth of her body through the thin, white shift she wore was a false heat, and that her tantalizing odor of crystallized vanilla was but a phantom scent, possessing no true source that his scorched nostrils could detect. Yet despite understanding that her presence now was merely a manifestation of his yearning, he basked in the sensation of her feather-light caresses. Her slender fingers and smooth palms ran like cool water over his face, relieving his fever while smoothing the furrows of his brow. Under her touch his profile soon resembled that of one unfettered, but his soul remained distraught, squeezed in twisting coils of grief and longing and….

…Fury.

Months had passed since the last night he had held her, since he had expressed all he felt for her in the act of ultimate intimacy. In those lingering, sensual hours, he had succumbed to vulnerability, forfeiting to her all he could offer, and received the same gift from her in return….

Yet what they had shared had amounted to nothing more than a haunting dream. She was not here – she had fled from him yet again. The lap which he rested his head upon did not exist, and the soft words filling his ears were but echoes of remembered murmurs. Nevertheless, he clung to her facsimile to quiet his tattered heart, shredded from her betrayal…but even as he grasped her hand in a weakened paw, scars were forming within him, dense, unyielding. His mate had crossed a line she could not step back over, one whose crossing he would not forgive. Revelations of her shortcomings arose like a posed hammer in his spirit, and with sure strokes, he began to pound away at the glorious pedestal of his adoration for her. Now he saw them more clearly than before when he had been blinded by romantic ideals. His soul began to petrify with anger, and acceptance and sorrow soon evaporated from him. He gained an edge to his persona he had never before possessed, and as he did, the creature of grace and sophistication degraded.

His transformation, just begun, would result in negative growth - yet growth nonetheless integral for him to possess.

So as his features contorted, like a tree under a ruthless gale, Mewtwo breathed Cassandra in.

Vanilla, now sickly sweet, made his nostrils sting.

And with a speed alarming for one yet healing, he flung himself from her grasp. Before she could react, his eyes narrowed, and he flung himself upon her, pinning her down onto the icy floor beneath them. For a moment, her silver eyes flashed with alarm, perhaps even fear….

The monster leaned down, close enough to kiss her with his fangs…despite all, he yet longed to feel her lips again, mindless of the traces of loathing crawling over his spirit like ivy.

In a harsh, raspy growl, his baritone voice scarcely recognizable, he asked the reflection of his mate the only question he now sought the answer to:

"Why? Why do I still yearn for you?"

He never would find the understanding he coveted.