Disclaimer: I do not own pokémon.

Author's Note:Hey y'all. I guess I don't have much to say this time. But…like I have in another work, I'd like to invite anyone willing to come to a site calledCreativity Forums…which I'm the webmistress of now. It's a place to post original work, fanfiction, pictures (appropriate ones), media, or just to talk about anything really. Right now, our members have trickled down into a tiny handful…and really, now would be the perfect time for new recruits. So, if you don't wish to come, please spread the words to someone else you know to see if they'd be interested. What we need most of all right now are writer and readers, people who are into artistic work…you don't even have to post in the discussion areas. You can just put your work there for…safekeeping, just in case, you know?

Well, I hope some of you out there come. It'd be nice to see some new faces, and really, I'd be happy to talk to you guys out of the fanfiction world.

The address is.

…Well, anyways, on with the chapter!

Previously:After the death of his sister, apparently from overdosing on Mewtwo's synthetic drugs, a trainer with an arsenal of dark pokémon arrives hunting for Mewtwo's blood. After defeating most of the team, Mewtwo is exhausted and bloody…but the trainer is not so quick to surrender. He releases a Tyranitar…and it is only because of Cassandra's intervention that Mewtwo manages to survive the encounter. Yet during that same night, Cassandra runs out of her medication…and the consequences of such could be more than the clone can handle.

CHAPTER 9: THE DEATH OF INNOCENCE

'…What's done is done.'

– Macbeth (Act III, Scene II) by William Shakespeare.

She smelled and tasted the same…of vanilla, creamy and sweet. Despite her attitude at times, she seemed so soft and wondrous to him in those moments after they'd completed their sin, his velvet fur still flush against her naked skin, their sweat mingling as they breathed the same slow, quiet breaths. They remained wrapped up in each other, not wishing to pull away…his paws traveled across her form, stroking her gently, undoing the knots between her shoulder blades…the female sighed with pleasure, savoring his actions, still held within the comfortable warmth and highs that came from their unions. He was so reluctant to rise…but dawn had come, the cursed light of the rising sun making that clear. He touched her one more time, and then rolled away, sitting on the edge of her bed…how long did he have before…?

Her hand reached up…trailing down his back…he turned back to her, meeting her eyes….

Everything changed. She was standing before him, fighting him, shoving him away with fearful eyes. Gunfire erupted, the sky-splitting sound and force of it shattering the dream, a bullet burying itself into the body he knew so well-.

(NO, C-!)

The nightmare was not what awoke him.

By rights, it should have…he should have been able to utter the name, to finish the sequence that haunted him. Yet instead, Mewtwo was jarred to consciousness at what seemed to be the sound of a crash in the bathroom loud enough to wake a person in a coma. For a time, he lay there in his hammock, the images of this dream still playing in his mind, and vaguely he wondered if the sound had been imagined by him or not. Like many, he searched for confirmation that an unexpected noise was a part of reality by the repetition of it, and was well aware of the fact that in a city unexpected noises arose constantly. Yet as he focused his hearing towards the room, he heard shuffling…panting coming in sick heaves. A tiny moan of distress and pain-.

He sat up. The woman. Cassandra…she was in the bathroom…and she was very,veryill.

The sight that met him as he teleported into the dimly lit washroom made him stare, observing with a start how pale and sweaty the assassin was, how she struggled to stay standing. The crash had come as she'd pulled the medical cabinet off its hooks when she'd torn into it, the bottles it had held now littered on the floor. Several of their tops had been twisted open, and their contents were empty. Eyes widening, the clone knew precisely what she must have done: she'd swallowed handfuls of the medication. Without a thought, he turned her towards him, gazing into her face as he pushed back the strands of her hair that fell into her face. She didn't seem to see him…her eyes barely registered him…she was twitching and shuddering in his grasp, weakly trying to pry herself from his hold. She murmured for him to release her, over and over again….

"Let me go…I…I need more-."

The clone shouted at her, trying to get her full attention, (How many did you swallow?)

In a manner, that question was rhetorical. He did not expect a straight answer, and he had his suspicions anyhow. At the very least, she'd taken well over a dozen to try to make her current trembling cease. He recalled in a moment of clarity the bottle of medication he had found in her supplies…a combination of an antidepressant of the SSRI class, fluoxetine hydrochloride, and methylmorphine, an analgesic commonly called codiene. Both were addictive substances if abused…and he could derive from this moment that she'd run out of her drug, triggering a crash of her system. Yet how hard would she fall…just how many mgs had she been taking before this…?

Right now, it was a secondary concern…for no matter how high her dosages had been, the medication she'd just put down her throat to replace it wasn't going to help her any – in being sleeping pills, not anti-depressants or painkillers, they had no hope of giving her a desired fix!

The assassin staggered…damn it, she was going to overdose if he didn't do anything!

Calculatedly, he slugged her in the stomach, jerking her towards the sink as he did so…she heaved and vomited up stomach acid, bile, and numerous semi-digested pills. With a start he noticed her irregular pulse, her fevered skin even as she shivered with an apparent chill. With a whimper, she clutched her middle, cursing him weakly for his actions, even though he had likely saved her from killing herself with anti-insomniacs. Again, he jerked her to face him…without his consent, his heart sped uncharacteristically with panic as she continued to seem to collapse inwards before him.

He shook her to keep her from falling unconscious, growling at her viciously, (Cassandra, how many milligrams of your medicine were you taking in a day?)

He needed an honest answer…she obviously took more of them than she was supposed to. She shuddered as her brain tried to think that out, "100 or so…I think…less than five pills wouldn't work anymore-."

He bowed his head…his breathing did not wish to come easy as he digested that. 100 mgs? She…wasnotsupposed to exceed 80 mgs…and therecommendedamount was even lower at 40-60 mgs! She had been taking over twice the amount she was supposed to…and he expressed his dismay with a trembling shout, (You…you fool! You were only supposed to take two pills a day!TwoCassandra!)

No wonder she was in this type of state! By god, look at what she'd done to herself…!

His sharp tone did not seem to concern her any…she fidgeted, struggling against him again, "Let go…I…need-."

The clone snarled at her, his hold on her hard enough to bruise her skin, (I am NOT going to allow you to kill yourself because you are craving an opiate that I don't have!)

Roughly, he half-pulled, half-dragged her away from the bathroom…she began to kick and spit at him, hitting him with clenched fists, crying out that sheneededthe pills he was taking her away from. But he did not care…he did not listen to her delusional cries. If she took any more of those pills, she was going to hurt herself more than this withdrawal ever could. She could damage her nervous system, her internal organs…she could do so many damages to her body if she got her way! And he could not allow that to happen. Furthermore, he could not search for a substitute drug to calm the girl…he could not leave Psyche alone with an addict who had been deprived of her drug. That course of action could be disastrous, and as a result unthinkable to him. That left only one option: Cassandra's desires did not matter now…she would have to endure the withdrawal, whether she wanted to or not!

The woman's screaming awoke his companion, who found him trying to stop the human from struggling against him in her own bed. Within minutes, she had gone from some semblance of sanity in seeking medication, to submitting to her condition. How long had she been like this…? How long had she been suffering before she had risen? Mewtwo could not guess…it may have been hours, and only recently had she gained the strength and lost the common sense to go to the washroom in search for capsules that might give her aid. As he held her down, she shrieked and fought, shouting at him to let her go…and as tempting as it was, he knew he could not allow it. He could not let her do as she pleased in this condition…she would be destructive to more than herself if he did!

"Es…espeon?" Psyche asked with a shaky voice, her dark lavender eyes wide as she observed what was going on, "Mewtwo what's…what's happening to her?"

Mewtwo could not glance at her…breaking his attention away from the assassin wasn't an option he had…! (I believe she is going into opium withdrawal. She has likely been succumbing to it for days now, but her mind has finally submitted to the effects. I am not certain what she will do, so please stay back Psyche!)

Disturbed and shocked by this explanation, the female pokémon's heavily pregnant body went stiff as she watched Mewtwo and the girl struggle. Sometimes their movements stilled, their yells quieting; yet for the most part, what Psyche forced herself to watch was a pure horrific nightmare. Cassandra was sobbing, whimpering with desperation, pain, and nausea, and increasingly she appeared to be loosing her focus on reality. After a few hours, she did not seem to see either of them, but other people entirely, other places, memories flooding her senses so that she rambled of them…and evermore, these memories became more and more distressing to the woman…even to the point of terrifying.

"NO!Stop it! Please, no more…!No more!"

It was too much to bear, the crying of a stricken girl who was screaming for her inner demons to leave her be. And as Psyche tore her eyes from the face of the panicked young woman, she saw something that unsettled her even more deeply:

Mewtwo's expression, always seeming blank and devoid of emotion, was now left open and clear, unhidden behind a mask.

He…was just as distressed as the girl to Psyche's observations. And his eyes, usually so stony and frigid, shown with an emotion she had never before seen in them, even when he had been attacked by others….

Those sharp eyes, they…they werefrightened.

There were things all creatures wanted to forget…occurrences in their lives they would prefer to dig out of their brains and never again remember. All beings have them – they are an inevitable part of life. For some, these incidences are merely embarrassing moments…but for others, these recollections are rife with trauma. And in the case of Cassandra Winters, her medication had been created to repress numerous memories that her sane mind couldn't bare to dwell on. Her pills, quite simply, had been a failing attempt to repress the disorder that had grasped her mind firmly since she was a child:

PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

For a person like herself, this development might have been inevitable. The shell-shock, the paranoia, the flashbacks and depression…. Teenagers usually were able to overcome it on their own with the help of friends and family…but the Team Rocket agent had none of these. And more importantly, Cassandra had not been a witness and victim of a singular incident, but toseveralduring the course of her life. Being an assassin, being afreakof nature, made that unavoidable. From a very young age, she had been made to choose between her own life and the lives of those she'd loved…and at the age of ten, barely even a decade into her life, Cassandra had been fully prepared to die.

But the choice had not been up to her.

For there were those that would not allow her to save the people she'd cared for...especially not the girl who had been her best friend, her sister in any way besides blood. And while much of her past was well hidden from even her subordinates, having been eradicated after the death of her mother, the memories of her beloveds still clung tohermind, tormenting Cassandra with their demises. Those of her family, her sweet childhood companion, and even many of the innocents she had been forced to kill to secure her own continued life….

"You cannot allow anyone who has seen your face to live after your mission is complete. It matters not who they are, be it a spouse, a friend, or the progeny of your target. Even an infant, Cassandra, cannot be spared. For these people can come back to hunt you and hunt our organization if they are left alive. And as you are now the oldest of the Elite Children, one of your main tasks is to make sure no harm comes to the others in this manner."

Years after Giovanni had explained that to her, a mansion she had been a servant for, the house of her current assignment, was burning all around her. The bodies of other housekeepers trying to make a living littered the floor, a bullet in their brains and hearts. A prepubescent boy, a few years younger than herself, cried over the corpses of his father and mother, and heard her stepping towards him, with the pistol that had killed them in her hand. Those parents had been wealthy people who had been fighting against Team Rocket's campaign…and they were now an example to others not to defy Giovanni.

Their son was only twelve years old.

His wide, horrified eyes gazed up at her, "A-Anne why? Why did you-?"

With a trembling hand, she held up the gun…he knew what she looked like…he'd…he'd seen her face…!

"I…I'm sorry."

Her hand trembled….

She pulled the trigger…and the boy fell, still having that disbelieving, betrayed look on his face as he came to rest beside his parents in death.

Then…she screamed as her heart broke once again, the sound of it joining with the growl of the hellfire around her, which was busy consuming what had once been a home and those who'd lived there….

In the present, Cassandra curled into a tight ball, her body shuddering as her mind tried to force out the nightmarish images of that memory. She had been undercover then…she had needed to be trusted to be able to access her targets. So she had worked as a nanny…she had taken care of that boy and his baby sister. He had looked up to her, liked her…and she had killed his parents…she had murdered him! And forwhat...? So she could continue to live? It…it could not have been a worthy trade…it could not have been...!

Her guilt ate away at her like a starving, snarling thing as another memory arose fresh and sharp before her eyes…of more children, and more death….

…Another boy was before her, in another time. She was several years younger, only just recently turning ten. The boy she was shouting at was eleven, and cared for her as an older brother would. His first initiation into the organization had already taken place a year prior, and it was his job to watch over her. But he need not have been ordered. He loved her in his own way, and was willing to do anything to keep her safe. In this pursuit, he now held a sniper's rifle and lay on top of an elementary school building. The barrel followed a little blue car, which held inside it her only true friend and that girl's father.

The younger Cassandra was screaming at him, begging him to stop, tugging at his jacket.

"If you won't do it, I will! You know what will happen if she doesn't die!" he yelled with angry tears, shoving her away.

She was desperate to make him stop, tears obscuring her innocent, silver eyes, "No! Ricky don't! Please, NO-!"

In their struggling, a shot was fired. It hit the front tire of a truck, and as the rubber wheel exploded, the monstrous vehicle swerved and went into the other lane…and rammed right into the passenger's side of that little blue car. The smaller vehicle was crushed inwards like a soda can under a booted heel. Cassandra watched with wide eyes, and then howled her sheer horror and dismay at what had just happened. She turned back to the boy, vengefully fighting him, hitting him…and somehow, another death marked that night. Ricardo Verde, the first child chosen by Giovanni for the Elite Children Agents, fell off the school's roof and broke his neck, dying instantly. And even as Cassandra cleaned up the mess, even as she erased Team Rocket's fingerprints to the crime as was necessary, guilt tore at her heart.

For she had not saved her sweet companion. And she had, whether it had been an accident or not, killed another member of the only group she was a part of.

She…she deserved to be with the criminals now.

There was no other place left for her in this world….

In the present Cassandra began to sob…Mewtwo could do nothing to sooth her.

"Oh god…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…."

She did not expect to be forgiven. How could she when she had destroyed them all? How could she atone when they had been just two examples of the dozens of deaths she had caused in the past nine years? She was drowning in a sea of blood…and only a small portion of those people had been sullied with sin beforehand. Most had been innocent…and the children…they had just wanted to become pokémon trainers…masters even. They'd never gotten a chance to have a starter pokémon. They had never gotten the chance to battle for a Gym Badge. They'd never witnessed the miracle of evolution or a hatching pokémon egg. She had taken that from them. She had taken everything from them…!

Just as Giovanni had taken her life from her, so she'd done the same to others. And now, it was too late to change anything….

She did not belong in the world of light.

Not anymore…no matter what her parents may have wished….

An angel's face, crowned in curly sand-colored hair, like the feathers of a desert bird…yet no matter what her child did, she always seemed so sad, even thought she tried to hide it from her daughter…her strange Cassandra, who loved her so very much…who only wanted to see her smile….

"…Mama…why…?"

As strange as it was to hear such a word coming from an adult's mouth, there was nothing amusing about it. There was nothing funny about a confused little girl speaking through a woman's lips, wondering why her mother had not given her up when Giovanni had "requested" that his goddaughter to be brought up with his aid. But her single parent, Serena Bracken, had known what would happen to her little girl if Giovanni got his way…he was her missing husband's best man, and they had gotten to know each other quite well over the years. And as Cassandra in her adolescent years understood, her guardian had wanted that relationship to be even more intimate. Yet Serena, even if gentler than her daughter, had been fiercely adamant on two things:

She would remain loyal to her husband until andafterconfirmation of his death. And she would NOT allow her sweet Cassandra to be a part of the organization that had so troubled her father's life. If it had not been for Giovanni, Caleb would have never gone on that mission…he would still be with Serena, raising and protecting their angelic little girl. And Giovanni knew these things well enough.

Was it any wonder then, that Serena had been murdered when her child was only four, and that for years, Cassandra was kept under the impression that the woman had committed suicide and left her so alone…?

Thinking on that, Cassandra began to heave with nausea again…but there was nothing left to gag up. She hated this. She hated herself for it. Perhaps she deserved this suffering…perhaps…perhaps she….

"…How do you like it girl? How does it feel to be humiliated?"

She struggled weakly…the man did not let go, continuing to growl into her ears.

"Do you think you don't deserve this? Are you really soarrogantthat you can't see that this pain is befitting? You've torn people apart! You're akiller, nothing more you ungrateful little-!"

The sheer agony was unbearable…it shred her soul and body apart as she tried to struggle away…but his grip was too firm, his strength unable to be overcome by her in her drunken stupor, even as she scratched and kicked, trying to get away, calling for help, for someone, anyone to save her.

"No,please!NO! Mama…Giovanni…Shadow,someone help me!Please don't let him-!"

Her pleas were smothered…she was again on the floor, her teacher crouching above her, holding her wrists above her head with one giant, crushing hand…his figure was dark, and she smelled vomit, alcohol, blood…her button-down nightshirt had been torn open, her undergarments tugged away. Some small part of her brain understood what would happen once more…the pain that would repeat itself. She began to whimper, trying to call out for someone, someone whose name she could not remember-.

A zipper went down, then-.

"NO!STOP! PLEASE GOD NO!"

She was fighting the clone fiercely now, thrashing in his grip, tears running down her face with terror and reminiscent agony…she did not see Mewtwo above her now, trying to make her calm down and failing miserably. She beat at his body, her fists pounding on his chest and back…pain met her blows, for some of his wounds from his battle with the dark pokémon were still not completely healed. And yet….

(You cannot hurt me that way…not like that, Cassandra.)

She did not hear his murmur…by now, she saw someone else…shefeltsomething other than his paws around her wrists, his tail holding her down in the bed as she struggled. If Mewtwo released her now, he knew she would run…and in this type of delusional state, he couldn't allow that. She could hurt herself…she could hurt-.

"Sensei…sensei please…pleaseSTOP!Sen-!"

The shrill cry, so suffused with fear and hurt made something integral in Mewtwo break. It should not have been enough…he had, after all, becoming inured to many of the evils of this world, well used to the pain humans inflicted on one another. The plea, as a result, should not have touched him…he should have been able to regulate his reaction, gaze upon her without compassion, and not have been tempted to comfort her. Yet still, despite these facts, something inside of him broke…and it was not a quiet snap, not a splinter of his will. It was as if some bone had cracked in two, instead of gaining an irking fracture. Later, he would reminisce that her state had driven him into his own temporary delve into insanity…he simply needed to believe that. But all the same, he jerked her to him, releasing her wrists, taking her head in his paws, her hair and ears beneath his fingers. His insides seemed to twist as he gazed at her face, and he found himself shouting at her:

(LOOK AT ME!)

He…had not yelled like that for a very, very long time. Not even to Giovanni had he raised his voice so…yet, he deeply wanted this entire thing to stop…for it to be resolved, somehow, so he would not have to be here, keeping her under control. He wanted to be as far away from this human as he could manage…he wanted these moments to end, so he could return to his bittersweet solitude. Alone…unfettered.The woman's eyes then stilled on his…her breathing quick and shallow…she was shaking silently now, still frightened out of her mind. She still did not fully see him, as close as he was to her. And Mewtwo only leaned closer, not letting her go, whispering to her to listen to him. For he wanted no more of her begging…no more of her futile tears….

His place in time was lost…softly, he spoke to her the last thing she would have expected. (That man is not here Cassandra…he cannot hurt you anymore. You will not be harmed here….)

(You…aresafe….)

And for one minute, she stared at him, silver into amethyst, human to pokémon. And as those words, so alien, so unbelievable, penetrated the chaos of her mind, Cassandra seemed to regain some shred of sanity. Again, tears flooded her eyes, but for an entirely different reason than before…she bowed her head, and without strength, she collapsed against him, her fingertips digging into his shoulders as she clung to him. For nothing else was real enough for her to hold onto…and nothing else was trying to keep her from tearing herself apart….

She slid back into darkness…but this time, it was not so horribly cold….

A few months after the attack, she awoke to the sound of footsteps in her room…yet this time, she was not afraid. For some reason that escaped her, she was weeping…her eyes watery as she opened them, the hot liquid running down her face. She touched the wetness where it had been shed, not understanding what it meant. Why…why was she crying? Was she truly still human enough to weep? How could that be? And…why…?

Someone shifted in the shadows…a figure she could not make out, blurred beyond her ability to perceive…a glint of eyes….

'Please…please, do not look at me with those beautiful eyes of yours….'

The voice sounded so broken…as though it were grieving, "Who…who are you?" She asked to it, to a soft darkness she knew nothing of.

It did not seem to wish to answer…but respond it did, '…I am a dream, nothing more. Now go back to sleep…close those eyes of yours…those eyes of palest moonlight….'

The words floated throughout her being…coaxing her into deeper dreaming. She drifted off into true blackness.

Yet still…she felt so, so sad…but why…? Why…?

Hours passed…the assassin sunk into a fitful sleep after hours of insomnia, hallucinations, and the resulting mood-swings. Mewtwo held her much of that time…trying to sooth her by stroking her down her back as she trembled, like a parent or proper guardian would with their upset charge. Psyche watched all of this with mounting confusion and suspicion, alarmed deeply by his actions, and at how he was refusing to leave the human's side even as the girl slept, even though he himself was exhausted from keeping watch over her. The other psychic offered to let him have a break, but he refused on the terms that the feline could not control the woman if she began to fight again…she and her kits could be injured. And while this was true, it did not make the pregnant female feel any more comfortable with what he was doing. Something wasn't right here…something wasn't right at all…!

Two days passed…Cassandra's mind, having been dependant on the drug, continued to suffer with the lack of it. She continued to twitch and sweat, continued to fall prey to traumatic memories and paranoia, oftentimes mistaking Mewtwo for her mysterious attacker, who went simply by the name of 'Sensei'. Yet how couldn't she, when throughout all of that time he stayed near her, watching her for any signs of improvement or worsening in condition? Eventually, as her body wore out through her struggles, she gazed up at the ceiling, almost unseeing…but she seemed calmer now, as though she were beginning to regain control over herself…as though her withdrawal was nearing its end….

She lolled her head to the side…Mewtwo was pacing next to her bed restlessly, his tail twitching much like her own muscles…she ached, especially in the head, which was odd to her, considering she had extensive bruising about her arms from when the clone had needed to hold her down…she could barely feel those. Her skin felt sticky, grimy…she needed a shower, and rather badly at that. Plus…she was so very thirsty…her stomach hurt….

"Water…," she croaked out to him, closing her eyes for a moment…he brought her a cup, which she guzzled down greedily. He gave her another.

(Are you feeling any better?)

She shivered, "Not really…my body's just too tired to fight right now, that's all. This will take another day or so, I think…."

He gazed at her emotionlessly, (Has this happened before?)

She didn't look at him as she responded, "…Almost. But not quite."

Silence fell. Again, she gazed at him, watching as he sat down near her, all the while wondering why he stayed. She supposed he couldn't allow her to run free in her withdrawal…she might destroy the room, for starters. Still…why was he…? Oh dear god…did it matter,honestly? What did she care? He obviously had his reasons, and he probably wasn't inclined to share them with her! Yet, all the same, the more she thought about the oddness of it, the moreanotherthought began to creep into her mind. A hope, rather, that her weary soul longed to muse upon in her slightly altered state of mind. It…was probably futile, but…perhaps….

Maybe…if he was willing to help her as he had been…then might he be willing to do something more…?

To ultimately save her…?

She…needed to ask…just to see if the possibility could be made real, "Mewtwo…could you do something for me?"

There was no sarcasm, no scoffing tones or anger in her tone…there was none of the teenage sharpness to her voice that he had become so used to. It was quite quiet and calm…not a plea, but merely the tone one might use with a friend, or someone who one is comfortable with. This was startling enough to the clone, that warmth and weariness in her soul, but her request was even more shocking to him….

(That depends on what you wish of me to do.)

She stared up at the ceiling…and then closed her eyes…releasing the soft breath captured in her lungs, "Could you…kill me?"

His entire body stiffened, his muscles growing taunt…in that moment, when her mind was at its clearest, she could sense that shift. Subtle indications of what a person was feeling, washergift…her blessing and curse as much as her hidden wings. Yet with Mewtwo, these signs were far more complex and alien to her…because, for all his soul resembled that of a human being's, he was not of her kind. Still, he seemed very angry when he spoke to her, (You are mad, woman. Do youtrulybelieve I will help you commit suicide? If you desire to die, you can forfeit your life on your own!)

She smiled a little at that, "I'm not crazy, Mewtwo. I'm actually feeling a lot more sane than usual. It's the first time in a long while that I've had so little of the medication in my system. It has its drawbacks, I'll be the first to admit it, but…I'm not 'mad'. I'm just…very tired of all of this."

That made him pause…but dare he ask…? (What do you mean?)

Cassandra gazed into nothingness…but to whom else could she ever tell this to? She had no one…for her honest emotions were not something she could admit to anyone she loved…and Shadow was the only creature in her life that wasn't a Team Rocket fanatic. To everyone else, what she felt was nothing less than treason. Now what didthatsuggest, coming from Giovanni's own goddaughter…? In that moment, the thought did not amuse her…it only further depressed her, actually. Yet at any rate, to Mewtwo, she told her reasoning, hoping that perhaps with it he might reconsider her wish and decide to grant it afterwards.

"…I…despise this life I lead. I'm used to it by now, yes…so it doesn't bother me as much as it rightly should. But still…I hate it. To be completely honest Mewtwo, I…don't care if I die. And it rather disgusts me, to know that if I succeed here, by killing you, I will just have to go back and kill again, and again, and again, until someone finally does finish me off. So you'd be saving yourself and others a lot of trouble by ending it here…," she trailed off. There was little more to say after that type of confession…after murmuring the thoughts that were forbidden to any "faithful" agent.

But Cassandra…she had not been born into Giovanni's organization.

It should haveneverbeen like this….

Mewtwo closed himself off to her…just in case. (…Are you trying to coax me over to your side with self-pity? That will not work on me, Cassandra.)

And as dark as this situation had become, some part of the assassin found that comical, "Mmm…probably not. But…it's the truth. And it would be a very kind favor of you to give me…."

Shadow…he would be fine if she didn't come back…he knew the risks his mistress took. Her sweet one was prepared for her demise….

And why not have Mewtwo be the one to cause that? Why not have him end her life, and insure his survival? It would not put him indebt to her, or be difficult in the least...it wouldn't even have to be FOR her, a human female. He would have his own, valid reasons for taking her life…and no grudge would be held against him for it on her part. But by this point, the feline had turned away from her…she could not see the expression on his face. Despite his stern tone, each word she murmured seemed to pain him, and he had to control himself from shaking. He did not want to hear what she was saying…not at all.He would prefer to be deaf…and distantly, he gazed at the door with those mocking faces that were all still laughing at him…and murmured, (I…cannot. I cannot kill you….)

Even if that was my desire….

And the thought continued onwards, delving into a truth the clone felt only contempt for….

Giovanni…he knew that well enough when he chose you for this task….

But Cassandra, for all her extrasensory abilities, was not telepathic, and so couldn't hear that statement of his mind. And as there was no mirror or reflective surface before the clone, she could not see his face from this angle, or truly observe the slightly beaten way he held himself. To her, his words just perplexed her. To her, they held no unspoken depth that might indicate a sincere confession of his own. For in her mind, he had made it clear that he was willing to kill those who sought to harm him when it was necessary…so unless something had changed, this did not make sense to her. And as far as she knew, he despised her as much as she did him…so what could he be saying then?

"What do you mean?"

And Mewtwo lied with ease; burying true reasoning under harsh, unremarkable logic…it was quickly becoming his second nature, to his wry amusement. (…You still have information that I need. If I were to kill you, I would never know who seeks my blood, whether it be God or man.)

She seemed to find that somewhat humorous, "What? You think because I have wings that I'm an angel? Far from it, Mewtwo. True, God really doesn't care for people like us…but He allows our existence, does He not? No…it's a human who wants you dead. Beyond that, I won't tell you anything."

(I see….)

The lengthy silence that followed was not awkward, but thoughtful for the female. After a time, she sighed, and asked him quietly something that had been bothering her for days now, "Do I…remind you of her? Is that why you're helping me?"

Mewtwo had no desire to answer her…yet, at the same time, he did not wish for her to mistake his motives for some form of sentimentality on his part. So the words came, despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him to keep his silence on the matter, (Why I help you is my own private business. But…yes, there are…similarities between you two. Your appearance…your mannerisms…. They are just two examples. However…you have undeniably different souls. You are also older than she was….)

And from that rather vague information which might have made her edgy, Cassandra drew one simple thing from it: his "lover" had been human. The imagery did not seem altogether pleasant…nor did it make any sense to her. Still, pondering on that, she shifted the topic slightly and said, "You have nightmares, Mewtwo. What are they about?"

Again, she inquired into matters that were little of her concern. Obviously, the telepath hesitated from telling her…though he knew it would damage nothing at this point, as long as he wasn't explicit in the details. Still, if he answered her honestly, he would again be informing her of something he'd previously kept strictly to himself. She would be the first to learn some of what his dreams consisted of. Although…the information she sought was hardly significant…it could not come back to burn him, for she would have little to no idea of what he was talking about. So he gazed into a distant place which he could see clearly only within his own mind…the memory consisting ofsunlight,and a light shower of tiny yellow leaves in a warm autumn wind, so long ago now….

(…A few years ago, I made a promise to someone…and as of last year, I did not keep that promise. I had the opportunity…yet even so, I broke it in two. It is my reasoning behind that decision which haunts me now,) he told her…and then went on, tearing himself away from memory. (However…I know that wishing I had acted differently is foolish. It is far too late now to change anything…and I do not have the power to alter the past. So…my speculations on this matter arepointless.)

Cassandra promptly toyed with that type of philosophy, "Maybe…maybe not. But you're not Macbeth, Mewtwo. You've little right to say what is pointless or not."

He seemed annoyed, (What would you prefer? Would you prefer I quote Frankenstein, considering how befitting that would be? Well?)

She gave a tiny moan, "Mewtwo, you're such a stiff…is there ANYTHING that would make you lighten up? Maybe if I set you on fire?"

He'd returned to the edge of her bed, standing over her…he had the power here, not her, and he made that clear enough by his stance. He could have let her suffer, even tortured her further as her need for her medication drove her mad. But for some obscure reason that might or might not have to do with the nameless female from his past, he'd been caring for her. And the assassin found that rather bizarre. Of course, if she pushed it, he might just make matters worse as she began to relapse into her fits…it was not as if her seventy-two hours were up. However, all the same, his admirable treatment of her, hisenemy, did warrant something in return from her. He probably didn't think so…but Cassandra was a rather honorable person, despite her occupation. Perhaps it was merely her way of trying to make up for her faults. At any rate…she had slapped him for peeping at her, so what to do for thanks…?

Ah…she knew what would be fun to see him react to! He looked ready to argue with her on the pyromaniac ideal, but she interrupted him before he start up a debate she really wasn't interested in, "Come here for a second."

Mewtwo did not wish to…his expression made it clear. Yet she was unarmed…so, detesting it, he came closer. Then, completely shocking him, her hand reached up, touching his cheek…her mouth pecking the other side of his face quickly, softly, before she pushed him away with an amused grin at the look on his face. His eyes were quite wide, and his cheeks were a little tinged with red. Of course, it could just be the dim lighting, but still…how funny was this? She chuckled, and murmured, "Hmm…you lookalmostcute when you're baffled. Doesn't often happen, eh?"

He looked like he was trying to speak, but his voice wasn't working properly…she repressed another bout of laughter, and began to sit up. She could beeviltoo…she was quite skilled at it. "Now Mewtwo, if you're not going to kill me like a smart person would, would you help me to the bathroom? My bladder's killing me."

The expression on his face contorted and darkened, his confusion swiftly replaced by his far more characteristic displeasure, (…Dare I? The last time you were in there, you sent my medical cabinet to the floor and consumed entire full bottles of my pills.)

He was definitely irked now…but seeing him look so surprised had been worth it, and for the life of her she couldn't remember doing what he'd said, "Say what?"

(You swallowed a considerable amount of my medicine in an attempt to sooth your craving for your drug…I had to force you to regurgitate so you would not overdose! Presently, I am indulging in my natural insomnia because I have no pills to coax me to sleep. Are you aware, woman, of how hard medicine of that caliber is to steal?)

She rolled her eyes, back to her usual self…her true persona had slid back into hiding, withdrawing inside herself again, "A little…now please, could you help me to the toilet? I really don't want to soil these sheets."

He helped her then…and Psyche, having watched and listened to the entire thing, continued to gaze after her friend with swiftly dwindling understanding. The more she thought about the situation as a whole, the less it made sense to her mind. What was going on? What in theworldhad they been talking about? Oh, something wasn't right here, and she wanted to know what it was, andNOW! What was her companion hiding…and when, by the legendaries, was he lying…?

The next day, Cassandra's fits were far more gentle…her sheer terror seemed to have left her as her mind ceased to panic without her medication. Her addict's body was calming itself, though the craving for her opiate drug still held her mind like nicotine did for a smoker. But she could deny it now…she would have to, until she returned to Team Rocket. However, even there…could she really afford to take it anymore, now that she was finally free of it…? It had, at times, barely worked anyhow…she had still had the nightmares, and nothing had ever fully soothed them. Her heart still tore itself in two whenever she allowed herself to dwell on the sickness that was her existence. And those higher doses were edging evermore into more and more dangerous territory as she attempted to defeat her growing immunity to her medication.

And then…there was Mewtwo. She needed to kill him to go back "home".

But…did he…?

Did he deserve to die, just to serve Giovanni's agenda…?

Her uncertainty frightened her almost as much as her current nightmares….

She was running through the night, darting between black, leafless trees, her footprints leaving tracks in the snow which betrayed her path to those who followed behind her. She could not fly now, for too many predatory species of flying pokémon awaited her in the air if she tried that route…and the hounds were chasing her down as she fled, baying to their trainers that the hunt was going well. They might just catch her within the next few minutes! Yet ahead was a glimmer of hope…she saw the tree-line, the glow of lights from a city….

She had to get there before they caught her! She had to get to safety, otherwise….

Well…death washardlythe worst thing that could happen to her now.

Because if they caught her…if HE caught her…!

Her…her progeny…HE would take the life that grew now in her womb if HE had his way. And she could not allow that! All she had left to live for was what was stirring inside her now…it was all that remained of her lover now that they'd murdered him! She touched her naval gently, more scared than she could remember being for quite some time. She did not care for her own life…but for her offspring….

She could not allow herself to be caught. If she did, they'd-!

The dream ended as she jerked awake…Mewtwo was wiping her sweaty, hot brow with a soaked washrag, looking vaguely concerned. For some reason, her soul ached when looked at him, but she could not say why…she simply didn't know what it was supposed to mean. It was an inexplicable feeling, like her sorrow after thatsomeonehad told her that her eyes were the color of moonlight. The emotions were so alike…the sadness and grief present in both of them. But…she had never been pregnant…she'd never even had a lover…so why?Why…?

'Impossible'…'impossible'…!

…But…what was 'impossible'? Why did she despise that word? 'Impossible'…?

There was so much confusion within her mind, her disorientation overwhelming. She saw Psyche sitting beyond the clone, watching them both silently, her expression purposefully blank. Cassandra was having a hard time keeping herself from collapsing, but even so, she knew that something was wrong. But before she could try to make sense of any of it, she fell back into sleeping off her final fitful hours, exhausted and sickened to her core as the withdrawal began to release its grasp and draw to its end….

She was sitting on a bench near her elementary school's playground, watching the other children play in such happy groups so far away. She was alone…to them, she was a weird freak who they would never accept…and the nine-year-old Cassandra felt so, so lonely and wistful, gazing at them all. She did not want to be a loner…she hated it, but no one ever dared to come over to her to behercompanion. She used to try to join them, but they all had just turned away…so she didn't try anymore. It hurt too much. It was then, when she least expected anyone to reach out to her, that a bright, seven-to-eight-year-old girl bounced up to her, smiling widely, her dark blue eyes glowing, her teal hair waving in the breeze. The newcomer peered up at the girl with the weird collar, finding it curious, and thought the one wearing it was even more so.

"What's your name?" the younger girl asked.

Cassandra barely knew how to speak for her surprise, "I…I'm Cassandra. Cassandra Bracken."

The newcomer blinked, "Cass…Cass-an-dra? That's an odd name. It's really pretty though."

Cassandra blushed faintly, not used to having another child talk to her in such complimentary ways, "Um…thanks."

And the other girl grinned happily, and held out her hand, "My name's Amber Smith! Let's be friends!"

…And so they were.

Author's Note:Now, just to make it very clear one thing: in the dubbed version of Mewtwo and Ai's story, Ai is called Amber…and her father is called Dr. John Smith (oh the cliché!). I'll keep to the dubbed version, but I'll refer to Ai's father as Dr. Fuji because the whole John Smith thing bugs me. Also, as I see it, Ai's father isn't going to use his real name when associating himself with Team Rocket…so he uses what I've decided will be hismiddlename. Yes, I'm cheating and twisting things, but it adds to this fic.

By the way…as a matter of related interest…Cassandra's name comes from a myth about a seer, who was cursed to be able to predict only disasters. Hence, she was known as the prophetess of doom. And I just like the name Cassandra very much because it sounds so neat.

Well, now at least we know a LITTLE more about our raven-haired assassin. We'll learn a lot more at a later date…but please be kind and review, okay? Thanks.

- WiseAbsol