PETRIFY
While Cassandra seeks out sanctuary in Saffron City, Mewtwo struggles with the emotional fallout of her betrayal. This piece, originally cut from "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" collection.
The clone of mew was dreaming.
He knew this because she was there beside him, which she hadn't been since abandoning him in her lust for martyrdom. Just as in the waking world, Mewtwo's mental avatar lay on his left flank, his body leaden and his burns smarting…but despite being unconscious, his mind was swift and sharp, like a razor slicing open a vital vein. He realized that the warmth of her body - which was seeping through the white shift she was wearing - was a false heat. He realized that her tantalizing fragrance of vanilla was a phantom scent, possessing no true source that his scorched nostrils could detect. Yet despite realizing that she was a manifestation of his yearning, he basked in the sensation of her feather-light caresses. Her hands ran like cool water over his face, relieving his fever while smoothing the furrows of his brow. Under her soothing touch, his expression became a tranquil one, even though his soul remained distraught, twisted in coils of grief and longing and…and….
Fury.
Months had passed since he'd held her last, since he'd expressed all he'd felt for her in the most sensual of acts. In those warm and intimate hours, he'd succumbed to vulnerability, forfeiting to her all he could offer, and had received the same gift from her in return. Yet what they'd shared had ultimately amounted to nothing more than a haunting dream.
She wasn't here – she'd fled from him yet again. The lap he now rested his head upon didn't exist, and the soft words filling his ears were merely echoes of remembered murmurs. Even so, he clung to her facsimile to quiet his tattered heart, so gruesomely shredded by her betrayal…and grasping her hand in a weakened paw, he willed scars to form within him, their tissues dense and unyielding. His mate, after all, had crossed a line she couldn't step back over, one whose crossing he wouldn't forgive. Revelations of her shortcomings arose like hammers over his spirit, and with sure and steady strokes, he began to pound away at the pedestal of his adoration for her. Now he saw them more clearly than before, when he'd been blinded by romantic ideals…and with these thoughts in mind, his philosophies began to shift.
His soul began to petrify with anger, and soon his acceptance of and his sorrow over his situation evaporated. He regained an edge he'd had only once before, and in doing so, felt the sophistication he'd possessed begin to degrade.
His transformation, only just begun, would result in negative growth…yet that growth would nonetheless prove essential to him.
So as his features contorted, Mewtwo breathed Cassandra in. The now sickly sweet scent of vanilla stifled him.
And with alarming speed for someone who was still healing, he flung himself from her grasp. Before she could react, his eyes narrowed and he descended upon her, pinning her down onto the floor beneath them. For a moment, her grey eyes flashed with alarm, and perhaps even with a hint of fear. The monster lowered his maw, drawing close enough to kiss her with his fangs – for despite everything that had happened, he still longed to taste her mouth, though this desire made traces of loathing crawl over his spirit like enchanted ivy. But instead of descending further into madness, he spoke to her in a harsh, raspy growl, his baritone voice scarcely recognizable. He asked the facsimile of his mate the only question that mattered to him now.
"Why? Why do I still yearn for you?" And like him, she didn't know the answer.