Angelic Shadows: Incomplete 2000s Edition

by WiseAbsol

With his memory of Mewtwo restored, Giovanni sends one of his Elite to kill him. While Agent Cassandra has no reservations about accepting the mission, there is much she hasn't been told about her target. This is an earlier version of the story, before it underwent revision in 2010. As such, it is incomplete, but it may be of interest to readers who want to compare the versions.

11. Forgotten Memoirs

Disclaimer: I do not own pokémon, the song 'My Immortal' by Evanescence, or the quote from Final Fantasy IX.

Author's Note:As a continuance of the origins of this fic, the concept that soon arose in my mind was this: Mewtwo is simply not the type of character who falls in love. Certainly, I know of a few people who have managed to or are currently pulling this off…but the more I analyzed Mewtwo's character in the original Japanese scripts, the more I found I didn't think he could be in a romantic situation at all. Especially towards the end of the movie "Mewtwo Returns". He's closed off to that type of thing…and even if he did find the idea intriguing, he is HIGHLY unlikely to give a human a chance to be his potential mate.

But I'd already done a "Mewthree" fic…and furthermore, I wanted to do something more likely than the creation of another Mew clone. Something that die-hard fans would enjoy and could actually believe to be a decent possibility. After awhile, I began to understand that there was only one time in Mewtwo's life where he could ever fall for another being: the year he was with Team Rocket. At that point, he was suspicious towards humanity, but did not detest them. He was still young, even naïve to a point, and above all rather confused. We know something of what went on during that time…but mostly, it's a rather shadowy area. The only other spot was right after the first movie…but by that point, he'd become a person that can't fall in love.

So the story reformed with those thoughts in mind. Truth be told, I rather like the new concept.

As for the chapter, here's a warning: this entry includes a vivid depiction of rape and bestiality. I will speak more about the former matter in the end notes, so before you flame me, read that. That said, those who can't handle those scenes had best skip past them.

Also, when Mewtwo says, 'dove', the term is 'dove'. It's not a typo of the word 'love'. It's an allusion having to do with a Bible passage (and a Shakespeare poem…some of you may know which I'm referring to).

To avoid confusion, the setup for this chapter is as follows: it starts after the discussion between Mewtwo and Psyche (a future scene, so it's in italics); then switches to directly after the last chapter. Then, up until the end, Mewtwo is conveying his memories to her, so the past incidences are italicized, while the regular font is his interrupting the tale to comment on something. Finally, at the end, it switches back to Psyche after she learns everything (in italics), and then back to the end of their discussion (regular font). If that sounds confusing well…it is, but once you start reading you should be able to follow it. I didn't mean for it to come out quite like that, but that's what happened, and it works that way, as long as you don't get lost.

Oh yeah…Merry Christmas everyone!

Previously:After a passive talk with Cassandra and the birth of Psyche's kits, Mewtwo's friend confronts him about his "strange" behavior around the assassin. Eventually, Psyche manages to get the clone to talk…and what he reveals to her is the one thing she never expected to hear: that at one point in the past, the frigid creation had a mate. And that person is the same woman now here to murder him: Giovanni's assassin, Cassandra Winters.

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CHAPTER 11: FORGOTTEN MEMOIRS

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'To be forgotten is worse than death.'

– Freya, Final Fantasy IX.

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The feline's kits nursed softly, mewling and nuzzling into her belly, content with her warmth, her softness, her smell, and the sweet meal her body provided for them. The aroma of milk filled her nostrils, and while Psyche understood that she should be paying her children more heed, her mind was churning over the things that Mewtwo had told her: the story of his youth, and his affections for a girl who was as much of an outcast as he was, if not more so.

Their story was one that had been systematically edited out of any file, memory, and common knowledge. Only a handful of people knew what the two had once been: Giovanni, Domino, Shadow, Mewtwo himself…and now, Psyche too. Yet Cassandra, who had played such an integral part of it, remembered nothing of her short romance with a creature commonly called a monstrosity.

What was worse?, Psyche wondered to herself.Not knowing the truth and living a lie that saved you from the pain…or knowing all that had been lost to you, and keeping locked inside the memory of being accepted by another, despite the laws that condemned you as an abomination for daring to care for a being outside of your acceptable gene pool?

For there could be relationships between different types of pokémon. There could be relationships between different races of human. And furthermore, both types of beings in this world could simply choose to love someone inside their own gender. Certainly, this was not well accepted, but compared to a human-pokémon relationship, it was a mild, if not normal thing. Yet what Cassandra and Mewtwo had shared…it had been doomed from the start. All the same, they had pursued it, regardless of their own doubts…for they both had needed to believe they had somewhere to belong - that there was some form of hope in this world for them….

For several long moments, Psyche just stared at her friend…before shaking her head in disbelief, unable to accept his declaration, even though she knew intuitively that his words were valid, "Espeon, es!" she rasped, "That…that can't be possible! Mewtwo, she doesn't even know who you are!"

To that comment, Mewtwo was silent…but that quiet spoke volumes to her, making her stomach plummet with dread, "Es…espe…?" she murmured, "Oh gods…what did you do to her…?"

He closed his eyes, slowly drowning in the wash of memories past, loosing himself to his thoughts, (…I did what I thought was right.)

Knowing well that he would answer her, she pressed him to tell her everything…and for the first and last time, the clone agreed, beginning to tell his companion the secrets that he had kept safely hidden away for years….

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…It had been two months since his awakening into the strange, cruel world of existence, and Mewtwo had already decided that he did not savor reality in the least. True, his conclusion was heavily colored by the criminal organization that had engulfed him since his "birth", but his opinion remained the same: this world was a horrid place. From what he had gathered, the system that ran the planet was simple - the strong defeated the weak…and while he had found such a thing amusing, proving to the humans and pokémon alike his strength, it was an empty act. The thrill in rendering another being powerless and forcing them into submission lasted only so long. It faded, only to be replaced by a deep, grey hollowness that had been present ever since the dreams had stopped. How ironic he found the concept…that in being alive and awake, all of the color and beauty he had once known had been replaced by a gritty nightmare.

What did he more prefer: the illusion of reality, sweet as it was, or the truth with all the thoughts and emotions it filled within him? He was uncertain. And to further agitate his developing heart and soul, he was haunted by the questions that had never been answered. Who was he? Why was he here, of all places? And what,WHATwas his purpose in this life? Surely, his creation had been for more reasons than to please those scientists, who were now in their graves where they belonged. Surely, his life had some meaning beyond merely existing…?

He searched through the simple services he had performed for his partner, Giovanni, and found nothing meaningful. Yes, he was training his powers so that he could split the very atoms around him, loose himself in the minds of others, and sense powerful entities hundreds of miles away. But despite what he would soon be able to do…despite all that he was learning…there was no pleasure to it. There was no direction behind it.

Can a creature without a past have any sort of future? Could he…?

As he mused on these points, Giovanni called him to the Gym. He obeyed, allowing his frightened "trainers" to transport him from the Viridian Labs to the Base, which was conjoined with the arena. The armor he was forced to wear aggravated him deeply, the cold, harsh metal scathing his pelt, the wires only worsening the constriction of the fluid movements that were natural to his body. They could be undone manually by a series of latches, but he had been discouraged from doing so until he had full control. So he had learned to sleep while standing. He had no quarters really, but there were rooms where he could attend to his needs, which were rather sparse and cool. He was coming to prefer it that way – they served his uses well enough. As he stepped out onto the packed dirt stadium, he allowed his eyes to roam. As usual, it was deserted of spectators. Yet Giovanni stood towards the center of the area, feet planted firmly, arms crossed behind his back in a powerful, confident stance, as though the man felt that no one would dare take a shot at him. He was right to have faith in such - no one would.

A few feet off to the man's right, was another figure. Beneath the visor, Mewtwo's eyes narrowed. The person was slim, robed in black clothes, its hands gloved and a steel mask over the face. From the size and slenderness of the form, the clone guessed the person hidden beneath the uniform was female. The eyes, pale and almond shaped, with softer edges and long eyelashes, were conducive of that, as well as the long, thin fingers. Her hair, ebony in color, reached to her jaw, and the scent of vanilla reached him even from this distance. It…was not anunpleasantodor. But the rest of her, while likely appealing, seemed to indicate a far sterner personality. The way she held herself, almost arrogantly; the cold hardness of her gaze, which indicated her displeasure in being here. There were knives on her belt, and her fingers twitched as though longing to take them out and use them. But she restrained herself. Nonetheless, the atmosphere became charged with distaste the closer he came to Giovanni and to her.

The crime leader did not seem to notice this, instead saying, "Thank you for getting here so swiftly, my friend. I appreciate your promptness."

The psychic was not in the mood to be polite, instead wishing to get to the point, (Why have you summoned me? I see no trainer to defeat.)

Giovanni smirked, "Observant, aren't you? You are quite correct – we are not here for the usual reasons. Quite simply put, I have another avenue of training for you to pursue."

Was that so…? (And what might that be?)

Giovanni gave a curt nod to the woman behind him, "You will learn how to use physical attacks from Agent Winters here. In turn, you will teach her how to make the best use of her psychic talent – empathy. Simply put, from this day forward, the two of you will be training partners."

Mewtwo's and the female's reactions were the same. They utterly hated the idea, and cried aloud their protest at the same time. The crime lord raised a hand, silencing them, "You two may not enjoy the idea, but it would be to your benefits to hear me out."

His eyes focused on the clone, "Firstly, Mewtwo, you need options in battle. I am not saying that your psychic talents are weak – quite the contrary. But depending on them solely is hardly a wise idea. If your moves are disabled, or you come up against an opponent of a type that is immune to psychic attacks, you'll be defenseless. Every day, new species of pokémon are discovered. It is safe to assume that somewhere out there will be a creature you cannot fight against with your usual powers. So being well-rounded, shall we say, would prove to be to your advantage."

He let the clone muse over this, and spoke to the girl, "And you, Cassandra, must learn how to control your talent. It can be a blessing or a curse – and I would prefer my assassin make the best out ofallof her abilities. Mewtwo would be your best teacher in this manner – he can teach you how to explore your surroundings without your other senses, and he can teach you how to defend yourself from psychic attacks to your mind. You are vulnerable unless you learn control! And you can't afford to have weaknesses."

While she quieted her snarls, Mewtwo merely scoffed, despite the logic behind Giovanni's words, (If I must be taught such arts, then let it be from arealtrainer. This female would be no match against-.)

Almost too swiftly for his eyes to track, the girl leapt forward and pressed the sharp edge of a blade against his neck.

"I'm sorry. What were you saying, you arrogant, sexist-?"

Giovanni laughed heartily, "I do believe he gets the, err, the point, my dear girl. This is precisely what I mean! In each of your fields, you are rising to be the very best! Teach each other, and you could have the advantage of wielding both against your enemies."

The girl glared, "We don't have a choice, do we?"

The crime lord gave them an amused look, "Not in the least. You will meet on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, from noon to six PM, provided there are no prior commitments. I would suggest you get started as soon as possible. You have much to learn from each other."

With that, he left the two of them alone. One in thought, they sought to prove just who was the better between them.

And for the first time he could recount, Mewtwo remembered feeling something delightful as he fought the assassin, who had somehow sprouted wings with which she could soar. Satisfaction…and flame; the mixture a type of dark passion in the hatred they felt for each another. He savored each moment of it…and, to some small extent…so did she.

The clone eyes shown with a crimson gleam as the neon lights of the city began to flare to life in the late hour, and he seemed to smirk at the memory, before sobering, (…Because of what we were, Giovanni saw no danger in the situation he had given us. And I admit, at that point, that only thing that entranced me about her was the thought of defeating her at her own games.)

(Yet eventually, the hatred we shared gradually faded once we became inured to each other. In its place arose some enjoyment in our battling, and in the bitter arguments that ensued. We were both prideful and stubborn…the entire concept Giovanni had presented us with horrified us, disgusted us, and in general got under our skins. We did not want each other's help, yet that was what we were forced to receive. I had to learn from a human teenager…and she from me.)

The lesson was getting out of control, and the girl expressed that aptly enough by slapping him across his exposed face. His armor, including the helmet, had been forfeited during their sessions - though she, aggravatingly, yet retained her mask. The sharp pain made him react on instinct. He lashed out at her with his tail, striking her in the side, the blow making her crumple to the ground. For a moment, he thought the exchange was over. However, within moments she had bolted upwards, slugging him in the stomach, her other hand raking at one of his eyes. He reeled and knocked her over, incidentally being tripped to the ground…the next few minutes passing in a flurry of blows. But while the clone's strikes were strong and wild, hers were disciplined and aimed to hit the weak points of his anatomy. In the end, he grudgingly surrendered, his wrists clutched in her hands, her legs straddling his waist.

But he had done one thing right. He'd torn away that accursed metal mask, revealing her face.

And for a full minute, the clone had to stare up at her as he caught his breath. He had not expected her to look as stunning as she did, or so young for that matter. How old could she be? Fifteen? Seventeen? He had thought she had worn the mask to hide some sort of marring, but evidently, the reason was quite different: she had merely desired to hide who she was - a dangerous, feisty, celestial creature.

Who then proceeded to lean forward and growl, "I win, freak."

He responded without consideration, (…I am not the human with wings.)

She gave him a black eye, and then left. Obviously, he'd said the wrong thing.

Later, that began to bother him like an insect he could not do away with, that flew in his eyes and bit at his flesh. What he had said was true enough. She was not a normal human being - that had been made very clear to him. He had heard others speak of her in quiet voices, giving her various names, fearful of what she was. It struck him then that she must hate it. Otherwise, she would not have struck him so angrily or stormed away before the session was complete. Somehow, he had harmed something in her. And while it had been something he'd been trying to do for quite some time, it was not as pleasurable as he'd thought it would be…not in the least.

Sensing Psyche's confusion and seeing how she'd cocked an eyebrow, Mewtwo attempted to explain, (She…intrigued me. Even then, I found her a curiosity and an enigma I wished to understand. After a time, I learned what not to say or do to her. In turn, she learned the same things of me. We would come to be capable of civilly tolerating each other, before things shifted onto a different, entirely more pleasant path.)

It was a Friday, the dusk mellow and surprisingly warm for mid-winter. Odd for this far into the season, it still hadn't snowed heavily, instead only providing flurries of white dust that melted as soon as they hit the ground. A few months had passed since they'd met, and frankly, Cassandra was weary of training in the Gym. She led Mewtwo out of the Base towards the Viridian Forest, to one of the cliffs that overlooked the Routes. There she turned to him, her mask and gloves forfeited since the day he'd spied her face. He rather preferred it that way…her expression sometimes gave little things away, and like her scent was not unpleasant to view, despite how difficult and harsh she could be.

"If you catch me without using your powers at all, I'll reward you," she stated, turning toward the drop.

He quirked an eyebrow towards the rise above him where she stood, (And what might that be?)

She smirked, "You'll see. Rather, you will if you're fast enough. Now tell me, clone: just how high can you jump?"

She launched herself off the edge into the forest below, laughing with sheer glee on the way down. Within moments, she was beating her wings far ahead of what he believed he could physically sprint…but he was not one to forfeit a challenge. This time, he was determined to be the victor. On her orders, he leapt into the trees, darting between the branches, to the stretches of open land and pathways below. He spied her ahead…and he pursued. He would catch the woman…she would not win again! And eventually, just as night was setting on the forest, he leapt and grasped her about the waist, getting in the ways of her wings. She cried out in protest, but he held onto her firmly.

They fell and crashed into the ground.

It took them both a moment to get back their breaths and bearings…she cussed, "Hell that hurt! Why didn't you set us down gently?"

Thatwould have been cheating. Now I have beaten you fairly.)

She snorted, "You shouldn't follow all the rules. You'll get killed that way."

If he had learned anything from her, it was how easily humans would trap you with their words, (Yet you would deny me my reward if I broke any of your edicts.)

Slowly, she smirked, "True…I guess I've got no choice now, right?"

The comment was rhetorical…for a second, she lay back, not caring that the feline was laying half across her, and closed her eyes…before opening them, sighing. "Do you like Chinese food by any chance?"

A few hours later, Mewtwo found himself standing in the Team Rocket Dorms, with Cassandra opening the door to her apartment before them. His reward was take-out at her place, since she apparently didn't dare attempt to cook anymore. He stepped into the room after her, uncertain at the prospect of being in a human's dwelling. It was quite small, but definitely to the girl's tastes. She threw her things onto her bed, called in her order, and told him to get comfortable. He sat in one of the chairs of the small table, rigid with anxiety. The smells here were strange, bloody and acrid, but despite that, everything seemed rather soft. The pale carpet, the color of the walls…Cassandra stepped out of the bathroom, out of her official garb and into casual clothing. He stared for a moment at the baggy T-shirt and cotton pants she wore, before looking away. She asked him if he'd like anything to drink.

(Tea, if you have any. It matters little what kind.)

She grimaced, "Hot water and boiled herbs…. Okay, if you really want it, but don't expect me to like it. Tea is nasty."

Amusement warmed him, and after it was finished and the food had arrived, he explained his choice, (I prefer this drink to all others. It is…mild, watery - not so different from the fluid I drank during my growth in the cultivation tank that housed me. After I awoke, my senses assaulted me…everything I drank and ate were far too strong to tolerate. Tea was a relief…something familiar and less potent. It helped me grow used to the sharp sensations of a world outside the laboratories.)

She contemplated that, drinking her own cup of the bitter stuff…she grimaced, but she would bear it, "I suppose that makes sense. So how do you like your food?"

(It is…enjoyable. Thank you.) The words sounded strange to him, but politeness, he knew, had its benefits when dealing with humans.

She shrugged, "No big deal. It's not as if money's an issue, and I didn't have to actually do anything."

(True…but you invited me here. You could have simply sent the meal to my residence.)

She snorted, "Yeah, the squints would be so thrilled. Who knows what that stuff is going to do to your system? Hell, you might just get sick."

(I am an omnivore. I can probably tolerate by far more things than your body can.)

"We'll see, Mewtwo. At any rate, it's nice having someone over. I usually eat alone."

He gazed at her quietly, swallowing the bite of rice and chicken he had in his mouth…it was spicy, greasy, but immensely delicious, (…Do you ever feel lonely, living in this manner? Humans are very social creatures…does it ever bother you, Agent Winters?)

She gazed at the table, tracing the grain, "…Sometimes. But I'm used to it. After all, it's not as if someone in my position can get close to anyone. An assassin is a weapon, not a person. And it really wouldn't be fair to someone to be involved with that type of being. After all, I could be dead in a month. I could come back from my missions maimed or rendered insane. And how fair would that be to my potential beloveds?"

(…All I asked was if you become lonely at times.)

"Yes…but I might as well explain why it's inevitable while I'm at it. And by the way…it's Cassandra, got it, kitty?"

Another few weeks passed…and slowly, tentatively, what they shared began to shift from the relationship between a teacher and student to some form of friendship. They met outside their sessions…they spoke about various matters that concerned them, and the stars looked down upon them, thinking nothing amiss with what they saw. They were two companions, two outcasts, merely taking some comfort in not being in perpetual solitude.

As time went on, Mewtwo began to understand something of humanity from her. He read matters on philosophy and emotion in Encyclopedias across the internet, but from her he learned the meaning instead of the definition. And the more he learned of them, the more he began to understand how truly sorrowful the girl was. And he…wanted to change that.

He got his chance during the Safari Zone mission.

By the time it was executed, Mewtwo had learned much of the extent of his abilities. As Giovanni had wished, he aided Team Rocket in the capture of hundreds of the endangered pokémon…and afterwards, when wandering in the aftermath, he came across something he had not expected to find. A wild Eevee nest, the parents having totted off the kits before his arrival. Or rather, all but one. A runt, a weak child who did not have any chance of surviving alone in the wild, had been left behind. The clone picked the creature up, an idea formulating in his mind, (…Would you like a place to belong, young one?)

The kit was too small yet to speak…but it mewled, and he took it as a yes. Later, Giovanni lifted an eyebrow at the clone, "You wish to have that kit? May I ask why, or do I want to know?"

(This child is a gift to someone. He will be of no hindrance to her.)

"Ah…you have become fond of my Cassandra, am I correct?"

Mewtwo kept the infant close to his chest, keeping it warm, (We are…close, I suppose.) It was something of an understatement. She interested him, but whether such an attraction was reciprocated was not known to him.

To Giovanni, the clone's answer was perfectly acceptable, so he nodded his consent…if Mewtwo had ties of the heart to his goddaughter, so be it. It would make it that much harder for the feline to rebel. "Do as you wish."

Some time later, Mewtwo stood before Cassandra, who had obeyed him and closed her eyes to await the surprise he had gotten for her from his trip. With his tail, he made her hold out her arms, and gently, he set the warm, furry bundle into her hold. The child squeaked and snuggled against her chest, making her gasp and her eyes shoot open. She looked down at the tiny pokémon in surprise, before glancing up at the clone, "Mewtwo, what…?"

(His family abandoned him…he needs a home. I thought you would be as good of parent as any to him.)

"But Mewtwo I…I can't take care of him! I don't know how-!"

He chuckled at her dismay, (You will learn. Besides…he will help sooth your loneliness, I am certain.)

For a couple minutes, she stared up at him…before clutching the tiny kit closer, sighing in forfeit. Her eyes, however, were warmer than he could ever recall them being…, "Okay…fine, I'll do it. I'll take care of him. You've obviously made up your mind about this."

Then, she leaned closer to him, and pecked him on the cheek, her lips brushing against his face, soft and warm, "Thank you. I'll call him Shadow…he's like us, in a way."

And that child would become a thing that bound them together…a gift of life that gave both love and joy. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her…and for that, she held Mewtwo that much dearer.

Psyche was smiling somewhat, "Espe…," she commented, "How sweet…."

But Mewtwo eyes darkened, for he knew well that such happiness had not lasted long, (It could not remain that way though, Psyche. Not in the world we were living in….)

She moved like a dancer when she fought. Her moves flowed into one another, precise and calculated, a perfect choreography of lethal violence.

Her sparring partner was a middle-aged man that had been her trainer since she had been ten years of age. Dark hair, darker eyes, with skin the color of brass, he observed her with a certain amount of pleasure as he saw bits of himself reflected in her movements. She was his prodigy, his greatest success…and swiftly becoming a force that he could not humble or defeat. Her thin staff darted out like a whip, beating into his muscles, his weak points, while his didn't seem capable of catching her once. She was so agile, so cunning, and beautiful in so many ways…he liked that about her, regardless of her age. No, her youth only made her more of creature to inspire awe and covetousness.

That, he knew, was what he secretly harbored: a desire for her.

…Did she know that? Sometimes he thought she might have guessed.

Sensing that he was loosing sight of reality, slipping into his thoughts, Cassandra leapt forward and dealt the most vicious blows she could, knocking him to the ground and pointing the staff tip to his throat. He had taught her all he knew, and she had learned well. Finally, she had beaten him at his own games…which meant, simply put, that he would now never see his student again. There was no need for such a thing…not anymore….

Quietly, she stated, "I win, Sensei."

With that, she left, a shadow following behind her…its eyes flashing violet, meeting his, as though sensing what feelings he held in his wretched soul - the rage at being surpassed by the young girl, the desire to possess her, the simmering hatred and damaged pride that arose in her victory. In that single glance, it ordered him not to come after her. It said that it belonged to the female, and would defend her if need be. In one glance, it warned him to stay far away.

Yet that was something the teacher could not do…for he still had far more to teach her than merely how to fight.

Far, far more than that…!

Psyche saw how her friend's form tensed as he described the incident…and asked him what it meant.

He gritted his teeth, (…Now that she had defeated her "Sensei", her godfather deemed it time for her to be initiated a second time. The first is merely to make certain that an individual will commit to the organization, and can be done in a variety of ways: killing someone, giving up a spy, letting someone important use you for his or her personal gain…the trial in merely dependant on how one plans to serve Giovanni. Cassandra herself was always meant to become one of Team Rocket's Elite members, chosen and trained from childhood to be the assassin…and in triumphing over her teacher, she was initiated into her official solo occupation.)

(There…was a graduation party of sorts. People she and Giovanni knew came to talk, gamble, drink, and indulge in some other illicit affairs. Cassandra…became quite drunk during the course of the night. Eventually, she left, and stumbled home to attempt to sleep off the intoxication. Since it had been a human celebration, I was in my own quarters, far from her.)

Something in his tone indicated that there had been more to it than that, "Espeon…?" She pressed, "And then what…?"

Mewtwo didn't seem to want to answer for a time, as though pondering on how to approach the matter. Yet eventually, the words formed, low and quiet, the cool breeze that swept over the rooftop not being the cause of his shivering, (…Her teacher came to her home. He broke in, attacked Shadow and her, and then….)

The clone shut his eyes, as though in pain, (He…destroyed her.)

The world was fuzzy…and vaguely, from the shallow waters of her light dreams, she heard the lock of her apartment door click open, the wooden barrier then opening and failing to latch shut. She turned over weakly, her stomach lurching as she saw the man in her room. With Shadow at her side, she rose, asking him what he was doing in her house, in a slurred, somewhat angry voice. Why was he here? What did he want…?

He grabbed her by the shoulders, and in instinct, she struck out at him, fighting his hold, sudden fright beginning to fill her veins with the chill of ice-water. Her Shadow leapt on the man, biting down on his hand in an attempt to make the larger male release his mistress. The man did just that in his attempt to tear the child away, soon succeeding and throwing the kit against the wall, then kicking at his tiny body. Cassandra screamed for her teacher to stop.

"NO! Leave him alone!"

And he did…instead turning his anger on her. He stepped towards her, grabbing her wrists and shoving her down to the floor. She scrambled to rise, only to have her teacher kick her in the ribs viciously, rendering her attempt in vain and knocking her breath from her. The grown man crouched down, grabbing her by her hair and grinding her face into the carpet floor, for no more reason than to smother her cries. Attempting to lash back at him, she watched from one eye as Shadow limped away to safety…and despite her current situation, relief seeped through her as she watched her little one flee.

But now it was only her left to deal with the attacker…and her strikes were nearly useless. She was weak in her disorientation, and any movement was difficult for her to execute. Her body refused to respond in the ways her foggy mind wished…the motions being too sluggish, too frail. Meanwhile his fists pounded into her form, his knees jarring into her bones. She heard herself shriek, felt herself thrash against him as he grabbed her, twisting her over onto her back. She raked her nails across his eyes, only to have him growl and cuff her across the face, her neck snapping to the side, stunning her. From a shadowy distance, she felt his hands tearing her clothes apart, her button-down shirt pulled open, revealing her quickly bruising bare flesh. She didn't like this at all…and dimly, realization came as he crouched nearer, leaning over her. Hot, heavy breathing…sour sweat…the stench of bitter alcohol. Her stomach filled with the cold acid of dread…for an attack she could handle, but nothing more invasive. She struggled, overwhelming fear beginning to rise in her. No…no-!

His hands grasped at her breasts, squeezing her nipples, his sharp teeth biting her lips in a violent kiss that terrified her in what it conveyed.

She twisted her mouth free, crying out, "S-stop! No, I don't want-! NO! Get away from me!"

Her words were faint, but the desperation and pain were clear in the sound of her begging. Yet her pleas were ignored. He kept going, one large hard hand grasping her wrists, the other tearing her remaining clothes away, even as her body squirmed and fought, nausea and horror filling her being. For she was naked, exposed, and knew well that she was at this cruel monster's mercy - a mercy he refused to give, thinking of his own sick, pedophile wants. His shirt had been torn apart by her fingers as she fought to get away…his body slick, heavy, and suffocating over hers. She blabbered for him to stop…beginning to scream for others to come to her aid. Giovanni…Shadow…her true parents, and-.

"Mewtwo…Mewtwo please, help me!"

For him she shouted the longest…even though she did not know why. Perhaps even in that horrifying moment she comprehended that he was strong enough to tear this man off her, and destroy him for the molestation she was being subjected to, and soon, the rape. She had no doubts that he cared enough about her to do so, and gladly at that. She knew it…she knew he would…!

But…Mewtwo was miles away. Kept secure in a lab, unable to hear her screaming. His heart could not feel her terror or need of him from this distance.

And as a result, he did not come to save her.

She began to weep, trying to curl up into a tight ball that could not be touched or accessed…but she was too weak now. The assault continued, pants unzipping, the girl dragged even closer, her legs torn open…for one split second she felt what was going to be forced inside her, what she could no longer defend herself against…all her emotion beginning to build in her throat, her entire body tensing against the violation….

And with one movement on her attacker's part, her world went dark, full of agony, terror, and sickness. Both her body and mind were thrust into, torn apart from the inside out…her scream catching in her throat, her pupils becoming pinpricks as she starred up at the ceiling in shock and pain, unable to move…before her entire being rebelled, her insides seeming to churn, vomit rising in her throat. She thrashed, kicked, bit, hit, screamed, and scratched, all of herself fighting to get the man out. Out of her body, out of her head and soul.Out!She needed him to leave her andgo away!

Humans don't have words for the type of hurt she experienced…but it was far more destructive than any other weapon someone could wield against her, her body being stabbed into, with none of her attempts capable of stopping it. She wasn't strong enough to make it end…he was getting what he wanted, ignoring her quieting screams, his hand over her mouth, her voice going hoarse until she was only whimpering, her limbs barely moving anymore to fight him. He hissed at her of things that she couldn't bare to hear…whispers that would haunt her long after the act was done. He chuckled at the fact she'd never whored herself previously, not even to Giovanni…he got angry at her tears, saying she had no right to feel sorry for herself. And so it went on until her strength was lost, and he was still there, inside her where he shouldn't be, where she hadn't given him her consent to be, all the while taking away the last of the innocence she held.

Any sense of humanity she'd possessed was gone now. All that was left was shadow and agony.

Her body and mind couldn't handle any more.

She blacked out for an indiscernible time, longing never to wake up again…vaguely rising to consciousness to feel him finish, the liquid of him burning her insides. As he got up, she rolled onto her side weakly, feeling the blood flowing down from between her legs, hot and sticky and far too plentiful and dark. She vomited, and then gagged, the taste of alcohol and acid in her mouth; the acrid scents of her shed fluid and his sweat in her nose, rising from her battered skin. But she was alive. She had survived. Hollow now, and in so much terrible pain. But she…she was still there, clinging to life. Alive…even though she would have preferred to have died.

She'd rather be dead now than feel this…and all she could do was weep in relief that it was over. Done. Even though she could still feel his presence echoing inside her form….

Yet…he was still in her violated haven. Still in the room with her, gazing at her with cold eyes, at the blood soaking her and the carpet….

Then he grinned…and reached for her again….

The next time she blacked out, she didn't awaken. Her body had lost too much blood, and could no longer tolerate the abuse it was being inflicted to. When that time came, her teacher stood, zipping up, contemplating what he had done. He was pleased…pleased to see the horrible girl broken and down on the floor at his feet where she belonged. And yet…anxiety began to stir in the back of his mind as he absorbed what he had done, looking at the wounded girl and the destroyed room. No. This would not do. She was Giovanni's favorite agent. He had to get rid of the mess, or at least do something to insure that this wouldn't point back to him. So he grabbed the girl roughly, dragging her body into the bathroom, turning on the water, not caring that it was freezing cold, and filled the bathwater with soap. He tossed her in, face up, roughly scrubbing her body of blood, reaching his fingers inside her used form to clean himself out of her. He did it quickly, roughly, leaving her with deep scratches…and then he left her there, getting away as fast as he could….

Later she awoke to find herself there, floating in the rosy, soapy water. She managed to drag her broken form into her own bed, curling up there, feeling more blood flow from her body. Closing her eyes, the nightmarish images conjured themselves in her head, until she fell into a dark sleep, hoping never to rise again to face the light of day and the persecution of others. They would condemn her, she knew, for not being able to stop it…they would rub in her shame like salt to her wounds….

Cassandra, at least the girl others knew, died in those moments…leaving behind a shell and far colder creature behind.

…The female cat shuddered, not wanting to think about how close she had come to a similar fate, nor wishing to ask how Mewtwo knew the details of what had happened. She could guess at where this was going, and could surmise that even if Cassandra had told no one else of the experience itself, she had likely told the one most precious to her what had been done to her. That, or Mewtwo had discovered it on his own…which led to far darker thoughts on the aftermath of the rape….

"…Espeon," she whispered, her words shaking slightly just like her tiny body, "…I take it you were the one who found her?"

Mewtwo clenched his paws into fists, (…That was likely the only kindness of the abominable incident.)

A few hours later, the wounded Eevee had managed to drag himself to the place he knew his mistress's friend and partner to be. The clone, the kit knew, could defend Cassandra in ways that Shadow never could, and the child understood well that there was more between them then either of them were willing to admit. He had seen it in both of their eyes the night the pokémon had given him to the human girl – he had seen the act for what it was: a desire to comfort and to acknowledge the quiet warmth they took from one another. The young one knew that the armored pokémon would help her without question.

Immediately upon spying the child, Mewtwo came to his side, taking him into his thin arms. The psychic could sense Shadow's panic, the desperation that had led him to come here, despite the agony that any movement inflicted on his body. A sick sort of cold slid down the sides of the clone's stomach, like freezing acid, (Shadow…? Why have you come? What-?)

"Ee…eevee. Eevee!" the little being's entire body shook as he conveyed his message to the clone, "She's…in danger. Help her!"

He need not have pleaded. As soon as he heard that the girl was in trouble, Mewtwo teleported the creature to the nearest Pokémon Center, and then flew to her apartment. For a moment, he paused outside the still ajar door, almost gagging at the miasma of the mixed auras seeping from the place. Fury…grief…pain, immeasurably potent pain…yet in the midst of it, Cassandra, and Cassandra alone, was there. So he stepped into it, repressing his empathic abilities in order to endure the heavy atmosphere, his eyes sweeping the dark room, the air thick with the stench of blood. The crimson liquid, nearly black, coated the carpet, wetting his feet; smears of it leading into the bathroom as if someone wounded had been dragged in there. He could guess the purpose that had served…for water could wash away many things that one would prefer hidden. But nothing could be done to the rest of the overwhelming evidence that something terrible had occurred here to his dear one.

He found her curled under the covers of her bed, shivering in residual terror and a number of other emotions he could not so clearly discern. Slowly, he reached out to her, touching her shoulder. She flinched, whimpering out a soft cry, "Please…no."

(Cassandra….)

Her eyes opened slightly at his voice…she gazed at the wall, and then clutched the sullied fabric more tightly around herself.

(Cassandra, I must see….)

She only pulled the sheets, black with crimson wet, around her firmer. She…she didn't want him to see what had been done to her! Not him…nothim…

Later, she would look back on this moment and wonder at her reaction. It indicated something unthinkable at the time: that already, she cared for his opinion of her. Already she did not want him to see her at her worse, to see her torn and defiled. She cared for him enough that ofallthe people she could have bourn to see her like this, she couldn't stand the thought of him looking upon her violated, worthless form. She couldn't stand to have him see her as she was now….

But as weak as she was, she couldn't resist him as he pulled the fabric cover away, viewing her fully. He took in the blood that soaked her bed, still flowing from between her legs. He took in the scratches and bruises across the more intimate parts of her body, and the cold sweat that bathed her more completely than the soapy rose water he'd seen in the bath. With an understanding born from literature, Mewtwo understood what had happened, and what Cassandra had been beforehand: a virgin. An innocent in flesh, now torn and sullied through the act of rape. For the first time in his life, he longed to be sick, his stomach rebelling as her gazed upon her from behind the visor…but he controlled it, killing it as anger began to grow in a cold flame in his heart and belly. He shook with it, and forced himself not to loose control…he leaned over her, asking her who had hurt her like this. She told him, whispering into his ear the name.

Afterwards, he wrapped her up again, gathering her into his arms, transporting them to the Hospital Wing, demanding that she be attended to. The doctors did not deny him that, taking her into a private room and phoning Giovanni to inform him of what had happened. Cassandra's terror returned as the fabric was striped away from her, and in an attempt to calm her, the clone spoke to her quietly. Finally, he merely held her hand, watching the physician with a type of protective intensity that made the man shiver.

"Ms. Winters, I…it's necessary to give you a rape test, to provide us with semen sample to confirm the identity of your attacker through DNA testing."

It was a necessity…but Cassandra had no desire to open her lower limbs to allow this.

It was Mewtwo who convinced her to follow orders…forcing her to stare into his face and forget that anyone else was there…, (Look at me. Just look at me…no harm will come to you anymore, I swear.)

She shivered…and then obeyed, staring at him while placing her ankles together and letting her knees fall apart, her eyes swimming and a whimper rising from her throat at the feeling of submitting to such a test. She gagged in a way that indicated the desire to throw up, but she had nothing left in her stomach to do so. Afterwards, he stayed with her as the doctors cleaned and patched her up. He stayed there to sooth her fear and pain…to tell her, quite simply, that she was not alone, not leaving until she had been drugged into a dreamless black sleep. And even then, it was hard for him to go, to trust that she would be safe in the care of others.

But he needed to leave. The monster needed to be eradicated….

"…Espeon," Psyche concluded as she listened to the account, "…You killed him, didn't you?"

(…Yes. And I have never once regretted it.)

He tracked the man down by following the scent of her blood from her apartment into one of the other dorm buildings. These specific ones housed some of the older residents of the organization, caging some of the monsters that made murderers seem gentle and tame. The door he came to was made of fine oak, and splintered into innumerable pieces as his telekinesis broke it down. Hearing his front door being obliterated, the teacher came out of the bathroom, half-naked and still attempting to cleanse his once-student's blood from his skin. For a moment, the man stared at the armored demon, and then backed away as if sensing the creature's hatred and his intentions.

Mewtwo himself had never known he could desire to kill another so deeply, and in the sadistic ways that came to mind as he contemplated a fitting end for Cassandra's rapist.

Finally, the older male found voice to speak, "Who the hell are you?"

The dark replica glared, though the other male could not see his eyes from beneath the visor…but his aura, visible in his wrath, was black and violent mauve from his fury. This man had forced himself into Cassandra despite her pleas for him to cease his approaches; he had violated and wounded her, and then left her for dead in her home. And now he tried to erase those actions from himself, as if they had never occurred, as if hehad notleft the girl broken and tormented? Yet hehadassaulted her, despite his attempts to cleanse himself of the sin. Now, as a result, she would never be the same again! Mewtwo comprehended that well, and looked venomously at the human man who had caused it. He was the one who had desecrated his dearest companion, the female he…that he…!

From somewhere outside himself, he answered the inquiry, (Who I am does not matter.You,however, are the one who destroyed the only being in this world that I care for.)

His paw lashed out, the malicious energy from it ensnaring the sick human, tearing him apart bit by bit as he lifted the man into the air. (You will die for harming her!)

Mewtwo never once allowed the man to scream as his body was mangled by his hatred and wrath.

A week later, when Giovanni's forces arrived there, the thing they found was barely recognizable as human. Cassandra's violator had already received the brutal end of vengeful justice….

Mewtwo opened his eyes, tearing himself from the memory of rage and gore, (…I enjoyed every moment of torturing him when I thought of what he had done to her. Ienjoyedseeing him die and feeling all the pain he had inflicted upon her tenfold. Ienjoyedthe fact that he was still alive as he watched his home become decorated by his blood and innards.)

(…But ultimately, the pleasure of it could not last. He died, and there was no satisfaction or relief afterwards. Yes, I had avenged her…and yes, he would never again threaten her or anyone else,) he stated, his frown deepening as he went on, (But…she was still broken and hollow. And by extension, so was I. And no amount of violence or death could change that.)

Weeks passed in the hospital.

The clone's fingers were intertwined with hers, the healing Shadow within the crook or her arm, yet Cassandra's eyes held no warmth. All their depths possessed were cold blackness, filled with pain, grief, and residual fear. The pokémon males were her solace, that was true, yet they could do nothing to sooth the nightmares that consumed her. She still felt her teacher inside her flesh, in her mind and heart…the words whispered to her during the rape haunting her, echoing in her mind. Like her dear ones, Giovanni and her assigned doctor watched her with growing concern.

"We can't keep her here much longer. Physically, she is well on her way to being fully healed. In that particular matter, she's quite fortunate-."

The crime lord's eyes narrowed, "Excuse me? How can this conditionpossiblybe 'fortunate'?"

The middle-aged doctor in his pristine, white coat shook his head, "That isn't what I meant. No one deserves this, but simply put, she has not contracted any diseases from the ordeal, nor does her body need any reconstructive surgery. I've known others who have had far worse. She's one of the luckier ones."

The leader of Team Rocket glanced to her, "…Is she pregnant?"

"No. We would have detected the hormonal variations by now. But you're missing the point. She will be fine in body…yes, she will have scarring, but she can still be used in the service of Team Rocket as well as before. But psychologically…well, drugs can only do so much."

"What do you suggest?"

"…She needs a caretaker, preferably someone she trusts and can tolerate; someone who won't take advantage of her in her current state."

That left scant few in the organization, and Giovanni did not know how to give her the type of patience and attention she would need to help her recover. Now that she was almost grown, his ability to be affectionate to benefit her was limited. But he knew what the doctor was inferring, "The clone?"

The other man did not fully meet his eyes, "She allows it to be near her, and she takes its words into account. I can see little other option. Furthermore…they have an emotional bond."

From the way the psychic gazed at the teenager, he almost thought that perhaps it was edging intotoo muchwarmth and devotion. As a result, he rather did not wish to speculate on just what it might mean, as the potential implications disturbed him deeply. Instead, he tried to think of the clone as a member of her non-existent pokémon team. Still…what it said to her sometimes…the way it could calm her and get her to submit to the essential tests to assess the damage done to her body and mind….

Giovanni had noticed these things as well…and when the others were gone, when it was just his goddaughter and him, he asked her about it, "Cassandra…just how close are you to the clone?"

Her eyes, usually distant, focused on his face, "…Are you attempting to imply something?"

His eyes narrowed, "Don't sass me, girl. Let me make this perfectly clear: if you two are friends, so be it. If it wishes to serve you, so be it. But you two are of entirely different species. Getting any closer than is…comforting, will not be accepted. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Her brow furrowed, "…So you're telling me not to take him as a lover, is that it?"

He crossed his arms, "Precisely."

She laughed…her voice hoarse and bitter, "And what if I ignore your orders? What will you do about it, godfather? Humor me."

Slowly, he stepped around the end of the bed, leaning over her, "…I will terminate the perverse relationship immediately. I will not have your reputation degraded just because of some inappropriate fetish you both share! If need be, I will use lethal force to put that creature down."

Just minutely, her eyes widened with fear. He noticed, and murmured onwards, "Understand, Cassandra, I sympathize with your emotions. You have been brutally used and treated as a thing less than human; but that is no excuse to turn to that clone for comfort. I have trained you since you were a child, and replacing you would be by far more difficult than simply creating that creature again. After all, its body will provide more than enough genetic material to manufacture dozens more of its kind. It will only take time and money, and ultimately, I am willing to sacrifice those things to ensure the end of a scandal."

"Now acknowledge the fact that I've given you due warning," he growled.

Cassandra closed her eyes, turning her face away, "I…I've been warned. I understand, Giovanni."

He straightened and began to walk away, "…I really hope you do, child."

And a tear trickled down her face, one which she didn't even know the reason behind why it was shed.

Mewtwo's voice, monotone as he expressed his thoughts on the matter, snapped Psyche out of the scene she imagined, (It would be months before I learned of this conversation. And when I did, I repressed my doubts about Giovanni's deal with me. There were, of course, other indications that I was only a tool to him…but I chose to dismiss them until I had undeniable proof.)

(Cassandra even tried to warn me that the man wasn't all I thought him to be. She had done so before the rape, during the nights when we discussed matters such as our purposes in life, her mother, and her childhood. She had told me not to trust him…but I ignored her words. And after the attack, she had no strength to argue with me. She merely allowed me to take Shadow and her back to her home once the cleaning crews had finished with their attempts cleanse the place of the assault. I will admit…they did well. The carpet and bedding had been replaced, the furniture was repaired, and the stench of it purified by chemical agents…but the memory was still there, in the very feel of the place. Even so, she wouldn't leave it, despite the memories it carried.)

(For over a month, I forced her to eat, to drink, to take the pills she would later become addicted to, each day. I helped her to cleanse and clothe herself when need be, and slept upon her floor, staying close to wake her if she had nightmares, which was nearly every night. And most importantly, I spoke with her. She refused to meet with a therapist to get past the trauma, instead depending on Shadow, her medicine, and myself for comfort. And as time progressed, as Giovanni began to send her on solo missions, the changes in her became far more apparent….)

The death count had been over thirty, with the assassin solely responsible for the bloody deed. Even Giovanni found himself disturbed by the implications, for this assignment had contained only one hit. Only one woman had needed to die, yet three dozen people were now in graves. It was as though she had hunted and murdered everyone she could find…and when he had asked her why, all she had told him was that it made the 'screaming' stop.

She had said it coolly and without emotion…and for the first time, Giovanni began to comprehend just what type of being he had turned her into. 'The Angel of Death' was what the others were calling her now, and indeed, such a title seemed apt. Not only did she take lives without mercy, she was also terribly frigid to others, and those who had slighted her in some manner usually came out wounded in the end. People now avoided her, whispering about her as she passed. More than one considered Mewtwo to be her personal demon, her pet to sic on anyone who dared do her harm. After what had been done to her teacher, the man's DNA confirming him to be the one who had ravished her, Giovanni was ready to believe those rumors.

Such beliefs were probably intentional on her part…for she wanted no one else near her….

One dreary evening, Mewtwo sat on the edge of the marble bathtub, his charge sitting with her knees curled up to her chin while the water swirled lazily around her, the soap forming various dreamlike images in the liquid. He cleansed her newest wounds, saying nothing as he dumped water over her head to rinse away the shampoo and conditioner from her hair. He was used to her doing nothing in these moments. Unclothed, she probably wished to loose herself in thoughts that distracted her from the darker memories associated with being exposed.

She reached out silently, staying one of his paws…he took at a sign she was ready to get out, and went to bring a towel and change of clothes for her. As he entered the bathroom again, setting her clothes on the sink counter, he paused as she spoke in a soft, quiet voice, "Why are you doing this, Mewtwo?"

…There were so many reasons. For one, Giovanni had asked him. He likely would have done this even if his partner had not said a word to him, for the clone did not trust others to treat her kindly. For another, he was wary of what she might do to herself if left alone to her own thoughts, unwatched but by Shadow, who ultimately could not stop her from doing something drastic and rash. As he helped her out of the draining water, he said, (I care for you. There need be no other reason than that.)

"Ah…."

He wrapped the white, fluffy towel around her shoulders…his paws resting there, feeling heavy to him…she did not shrug them away, but lowered her silver eyes. The silence stretched on, and he asked the question that had been bothering him for some time, (Cassandra…why have you become so cold to others? You are quiet enough around Shadow and me…but even to Giovanni, you are distant. Why?)

She took her time answering, "…I guess I cope better by pushing them away. It's not like I was close to any of them in the first place, so it's not much of a loss."

(…Is that why you refuse to let them touch you, even if that might help you heal?)

She shivered, and then leaned into him, wet, warm, but still a little scared, "No…that's not why."

(…Tell me.)

She bit her lower lip, and then whispered it to him, "Every time…just reminds me ofhim. I feel him touching me again, going inside of me…."

She tried to staunch her upset, sickened tears, but she couldn't stop them from coming. He soothed her in what way he could, holding her bare form close, not feeling any bit of lust for her in that moment despite that fact. How could he when she had been hurt by that form of desire? No…he cared for her too much for such a thing…he could not betray her in that way. It seemed a strange setting to make a revelation of any sort, but feeling the hot wet of her tears in his fur, and wrapping his tail about her to defend her from all things that might try to harm her, he put a name to the feeling he'd been carrying around inside himself for months now. The feeling which had been growing in his chest, heavy, sticky, and warm…the impossible, unrelenting craving for her soul.

It was the emotion that humans had simply named 'love'.

He did not need to fight with himself over the validity of that realization – he knew well that it could only be that, and he accepted it in silence. Mind, it was not a feeling he should have been able to comprehend…especially not for a human, and not of the romantic form. But it was there, the force behind his longing to comfort and protect her, the force that had nearly driven him mad as he had killed her assailant, the force that inevitably drew him to her even with the present knowledge that any sort of union between them could never be or work. For they were of two different races. Outcasts, yes…but still too different to be together. He knew that, but the idea still sickened him with sorrow.

And beyond that, there was another thing that kept them apart: she could not stand any form of physicality or intimacy anymore.

So he bottled the emotion up as he always had without his knowing, hoping to keep it a secret as long as he could...but still, he wanted to know just one more thing, (And when I touch you, Cassandra? What do you feel?)

She raised her eyes to meet his, "…You aren't human. You have paws, not hands. Your touch doesn't arouse any form of disgust in me."

In his heart, he was grateful to hear such a thing…but it changed absolutely nothing.

…The moon was setting, ghostly pale and cool, and mingled its light in the western wind…yet neither psychic felt the invisible caress anymore.

(…Do you know what it is like, Psyche, to long for someone you can never have? Not because of differences in status, not because the other person potentially doesn't care…but because of a difference in form? Because you do not wish to hurt that person? Living so close to that being, carrying those feelings around in silence is constant torment. It sickens the soul, affects the body, and pesters the mind and heart until all you can think about is saying the one thing that would risk destroying the fragile relationship you already possess with that special being.)

(Eventually, the silence must break, or you must….)

…Cassandra had set the video surveillance in a digital loop to hide that she was stealing the clone away for the night. It had been quite some time since they had gazed up at the sky to enjoy its beauty, and even longer since the sound of her violin had cried out in the quiet. She was working on a solemn, rather pretty piece, and wished for Mewtwo to hear it soon. It was a gift for him…and the only way she knew to thank him for staying by her side all this time when no one else besides her little one would.

She entered the lab where he stood, hooked up to wires and wrapped in metal. The helmet moved minutely as he lifted his head to gaze at her as she approached, and she saw him shift somewhat, as though uncomfortable. She figured it was merely that damnable armor, whose purpose was to keep him in check. Regardless of the motion, she stepped forward, murmuring that it was about time they go to the forest again. Her hands slid under his upper body armor, across his velvet fur and muscles, undoing the clasps and unhooking the wires. He tensed as she did so, but she gave it little mind. As the metal fell to the floor noisily, she reached up, determined to remove the helmet too. The same process took place…the clone, aching to stay there and desiring to flee at the same time, allowed her to take away the heavy headgear…but he had to stop her as she tried to remove what remained of the armor.

He couldn't stand her touch any longer.

He understood how immoral and wrong it was to desire a human. He was not of her kin…he was of no kind truly. Yet he wanted her, and while he had become adept at repressing such yearnings, her fingers gracing his fur, despite their innocent intentions, only eroded his ability to resist. He grabbed her wrists…she gave him a confused look, "Mewtwo, what is it?"

(…You must leave this place.)

She blinked, "Why?"

(…I cannot trust myself around you. For that, it is best if we are apart. Do you understand?)

Her brow furrowed, "No…no, I don't. Tell me what you actually mean instead of being so vague."

He trembled...anxiety and frustration mingling in his core, along with a truth he so wanted to speak but his mind wouldn't allow him to say. This was wrong! And yet…gazing into her face, at her caring, accepting, and warm expression, which she gave only to him because she felt no threat from him…it argued against his logical reasoning. It murmured that maybe she could return his longings, thatmaybeit was not as unlikely as he believed it to be. All at once, he felt himself giving in, letting himself weaken to her…and damning the consequences, he drew her against him, and committed a very human act of affection.

He pressed his mouth to hers, and murmured, (I love you, human.)

She jerked in surprise at the feeling of his kiss, at his words and sincerity that echoed in her mind…her empathic senses, so keen through his teaching, telling her that he did not lie. For one terrible moment, she thought of Giovanni's threat…she tried to break away, muttering that they couldn't be doing this…but her words were drowned by the pleasurable, joyous sensation of being so close to the creature she cared so much for. Her heart shifted fully…she curled her arms around him and kissed him back, savoring how sweet this one shard of happiness was as her worries and resistance slipped away.

"Mewtwo…damn it…."

(…Tell me when to stop, and I will obey you.)

In the end, she never told him to.

Their kiss only deepened…tongue slipped in, heat beginning to defuse throughout them both. For them such feelings of physical warmth in the manner of lust were unfamiliar, but recognizable nonetheless. Both knew what such feelings could entail if they continued to grow and strengthen; the aches that would come, and the cravings it would bring. But neither cared. Without much conscious thought, Mewtwo teleported them both back to her home…standing beside her bed, savoring the removal of the rest of his armor, enjoying what it felt like to slowly tug away her own outer coverings. If Shadow had been there, their actions might have halted and not gone along the path they were headed…but the kit was wandering on the grounds, so the two were utterly alone. Their mouths continued to cradle one another, their fingers stroking along one another's forms, leaving flesh and fur burning where they'd touched each other. As they moved and swayed against one another, sighing with pleasure at this form of closeness, they smiled, slowly coming to rest in her bed, leaning against the wall behind it.

It was somewhat awkward…they were both inexperienced, and ultimately, their differences in form made some of their movements less than graceful. And yet…it was sensual, arousing, though a little nerve-wracking. Cassandra feared a pain similar to the rape, even knowing that her current companion would be a far kinder partner…and in turn, Mewtwo feared harming her through a lack of control, even knowing that this time she would be accepting. Without a word he drew her body against his face, nuzzling her chest, kissing her there, with a few fumbling motions undoing her bra, letting that, like her shirt, pants, and footwear, fall away. She was beautiful…. As scarred as her form was, she was so lovely. He savored the taste of her, the sounds she made as he touched and suckled at her as he craved. He wanted her to enjoy this…otherwise, he would be no better than the male who had hurt her.

With the thought of the man entering his mind, his brow furrowed…he listened to her heartbeat in beneath her ribs, quickened, pounding…he raised his head, kissed her face, (…I will not harm you.)

As he nuzzled her neck, her silky hair, she wrapped her arms about him, trailing her fingers down his back, "…I know."

And they continued to run against one another, soon becoming slick with sweat, whimpering gently as their explorations became more and more intimate, the rest of Cassandra's clothing removed so they were flush against each other, her wings exposed…he nipped her pinions gently, preening her feathers…it felt wondrous to her. How strange, the differences that consent and affection could make to an experience like this. She kissed his shoulder, not bothered by how he crouched above her, shivering, his tense body moving against hers. Because it was him. Mewtwo. Her Mewtwo. His form was alien enough that he didn't truly frighten her, yet familiar enough to…to make her crave him.

She stroked his hard length silently, feeling him jerk against her…did it hurt now, being so close like this? She ached, yes…but her own longing probably couldn't compare to his need. As she drew him against her, she barely managed not to cry out…she clutched him close, wrapping her legs around his hips, her arms tight about his shoulders, "Please…Mewtwo please…."

Her wrapped an arm beneath the small of her back…his other paw clenching the sheets tightly…he wanted her, and didn't care anymore what they both were. With the whisper, he knew she didn't either. They were so utterly lost…both wet and burning…he let instinct run him then…thrusting himself against her….

And to their shock, they slid together, fitted together, they eyes widening at the sharp, blissful sensation…before they forfeited themselves over to it, allowing it to take them wherever it willed. Their limbs constricted around one another, tight and needy. They cried out, grasped at one another, and continued moving, riding on the waves of ecstasy until both of their bodies couldn't stand it anymore. They reached their peaks within moments of one another, the highs startling them both…her body shuddering, arching into his, her wings wrapping around him…his own final movement, the sweetness of the release…. In the shock of it, he bit her hard in the crook between her shoulder and neck, breaking the outermost layer of skin, a trickle of her blood in his mouth….and she cried out the words that made his joy in that moment utterly complete….

After they wore out, sinking into the blankets and catching their breaths, Mewtwo raised his head to gaze down into her face….

(…Say that again, Cassandra.)

Slowly, she reached up, stroking his muzzle, knowing what he was speaking of, "…I…love you."

His smile was beautiful….

The morning after, Cassandra awoke to Shadow mewling at her, pressing his little muzzle to her nose. She smiled at him, feeling at peace and content in a way she hadn't felt since before she had come under Giovanni's care. Her arm snaked out of the sheets, embracing the little creature close. Her lover lay behind her, his body curled about her protectively, his arms and tail about her form. She scratched the Eevee behind the ears, sighing, "Well, there's no turning back now, is there?"

Shadow chirped an amused laugh, not disturbed in the least by discovering his mistress laying in her companion's arms…it was fitting, really, to have his two parental figures together in this way.

Breaking into the quiet atmosphere arose the jarring ring of her phone…grimacing, she rose, pulling out of the clone's grasp, glancing back at his sleeping form before pulling on a robe, going to the kitchen where the annoying device was. The screen, thankfully not angled towards the bed, flicked on with Giovanni's glowering face as she picked up the receiver.

Unsurprisingly, he wanted to know where his weapon, the creation, had gone…asking if 'it' was with her.

She lied and hung up.

Mewtwo's eyes were open as she walked to where he lay…she sat down, her hand trailing down his collar to his navel…her took her palm and kissed it, (…I understand.)

This union was something that no one could ever know about if they wanted to exist. This was their secret, and one that would likely take far more than lies for them to defend….

So be it….

(…I am certain you find it appalling.)

Psyche blinked at him, detecting his anger at her potential prejudice. Nonetheless, she let her thoughts on the matter be heard, "Espeon, espe. Es - espe!" she said, "I just don't understand how you could justify yourself. She was sixteen - still a child in human terms!"

He bristled, (And how old was I, Psyche? Not even two! You cannot judge me based on that!)

He turned to face her, his eyes narrowing, (Do you think I did not fight with myself over caring for her in that manner? Do you think I did not take into account her age, her species, her soul? Do you think it was simple for me to submit to an emotion I could not fully comprehend nordesiredto feel for ahuman? In every way I could, I tried to rid myself of my yearnings for her. I avoided her, turned to pain to cease thinking about her, battled until fatigue left me with empty dreams-.)

"Espe!" his friend hissed, "But you still failed!"

He glared at her sharply, (Yes, I failed! How many others before me have tried to kill their passion? How many have won that struggle and come out intact? None! Tell me, Espeon, what wouldyouhave done in my place?)

"…Es…espe," The question caught her off guard, forcing her to confront her own heart…and in the end, she realized what Mewtwo was attempting to try to make her understand, "…I…I don't know."

That seemed to pacify him, (Precisely. If we had possessed a choice in the matter, we would have taken another path. Yet you know as well as I that no one has a choice in whom they come to love.)

Yes. She supposed he was right, as sad as the thought might be. "Espe?" she asked in quiet defeat, "So what did you two do?"

(We…obviously, our relationship was very physical. Conveying emotion in words had never been an entirely easy thing for either of us, so we allowed our actions to speak instead. For the most part, we distanced ourselves when in public…but alone, we did much of what mates do. Conversed about various matters, dined together, and savored the happiness we could give one another. There were times when we almost slipped up…when we battled most prominently of all. But after about two months, we found a comfortable pattern. The nights were ours to share together, sometimes bleeding into the morning hours. And for the most part, we were gentle with each other. The only exceptions were after her missions, when we were desperate to confirm that nothing had changed - that we were both still alive.)

More than just about anything else in this life, he hated waiting for her to return from her assignments.

Always he worried direly that one day she would not come back, and the thought of her potential death gnawed at him each minute she was missing from his side. Yet when she did return, as she never failed to do, he would escort her home and help her to cleanse herself of the blood of others. Neither spoke during this process, unable to acknowledge how close she had come to dying each time. But with one gentle touch, the façade they held, even in private, broke. The clothes she wore, sullied and smelling of death, were thrown off her as they sought to be one again, to make it clear that they were not alone.

Sometimes she thought that the only reason she was trying so hard to come home was to be with him again….

It was almost brutal, the sex that came after those incidences…neither bothered to keep themselves in check or under control. They left one another scratched and bitten, but ultimately gratified and warm. The soreness would fade…and afterwards, after they had finished, they gazed at one another, letting the repressed fear they'd felt show through at last.

What if he had lost her? What if he had not been there when she returned?

"I'm here, Mewtwo."

Yes…yes, she was. (…Welcome home, dove.)

Later, as she slept in his arms, moaning from the nightmares that he could never fully sooth, he wondered how long they could go on like this, hiding and fearing that with every mission Giovanni gave them that they would loose the special bond they had, to death or to psychological scarring that would render their hearts dead. The clone knew that something needed to change. They could not continue living from moment to moment, hopeless and constantly worried over what the future would bring. That would kill them, no matter their devotion, no matter their affections. When she was just barely stirring, he asked her if she was happy with him.

She said that she was.

With that thought in mind, he did not sleep during the remainder of the night, instead thinking of what he could do to ease the pain that the rest of the hours of each day brought them - thinking of what he could do to give them some hope, no matter how frail and fragile….

Mewtwo fell silent, contemplating the thing that came next…the warm memory that, above all else, haunted him now that it was over with and gone.

(I…made her an offer, Psyche…hoping in my naivety that she would accept it, no matter what we knew the consequences of it would be. As young and foolish as I was, I thought I could find a way for us to live. I believed I could do whatever I wished with the power that I held, as long as I had a goal, a purpose in my existence.)

(She gave me that…and even knowing that what I offered her was likely a whimsical dream, she embraced it. And I promised her that I would make it a reality.)

In his mind, he saw her then…smiling up at him, the sunlight and yellow leaves of autumn encompassing them both…the perfect shade of happiness, and of a delight that they need only be patient for to achieve.

He closed his eyes, feeling sick in soul….

(But I…we, overlooked something dangerous in our joy: the daylight. In the shadows, we could hide what we were…but in the light, after so long of being cautious, we made a fatal mistake. We celebrated in a place we thought we wouldn't be seen…a place that while difficult to reach, was still out in the open where we could be exposed.)

(And though it took me months before I fully comprehended it, that day of hope we shared…was the beginning of our demise.)

…Giovanni had never known he could feel so intensely furious and revolted by one person.

His fists shook on the table before him, and he had to repress the urge to smoke and spit as he watched what the surveillance unit had found in one of their scans of the Viridian Forest. The clip of digital film wasn't even a few minutes long…but it was long enough to fully reveal EVERY aspect of a relationship he had specifically warned his goddaughter against pursing. Up until this point, he hadn't even fully believed that it was conceivable - he had pushed his suspicions aside as twisted musings that came from living too long in this organization. But there they were: Cassandra and Mewtwo, lying in one another's holds, engaging in a disgusting display of intercourse that made him wish to destroy the screen in front of his eyes if only to deny the existence of the images.

Growling softly, he asked, "What do you think of this, Domino?"

She had entered the room some time prior, but he hadn't acknowledged her presence until now. She was a promising child, and currently seemed by far more loyal and reliable than his best friend's whore of a daughter. She took a moment to answer his question, "…It's…disturbing to look at. I'd heard rumors of something like this, but it was just the usual perverted talk. I hadn't actually believed they would do anything like this."

Giovanni had surmised just as much, "…This cannot become public. We need to bury it."

Domino understood. The others who had seen this footage would need to be…taken care of. Yet as he rose, taking the tape of the material with him, she couldn't suppress the comment that rose to her lips, "She seems…very happy."

Giovanni paused, and glanced back at her, "That may be so…but who she's found that happiness with is not acceptable. Besides, she is a weapon, Domino. And weapons, as flawed as they may be, do not deserve joy."

And while he could not risk current "partnership" with Mewtwo, he could sure as hell confront the girl!

Three hours later, Cassandra stared with wide eyes at the images on the screen before her. Her heart clamored in her chest loudly, panicking at the captured proof of her true relationship with Mewtwo. Of all the things that might have gone wrong, this had been the greatest of her and her lover's fears – to be revealed for what they were. To make things worse,Giovannihad been the one to stumble across the evidence. From her seat across the room, she could feel the heat of his searing rage and revulsion. So she didn't dare glance at him, not as he shut the film clip off abruptly, or as he asked in a low and icy voice what he was seeing. She couldn't find any words to explain…and not waiting for her to find an answer, his heavy hand whipped out, striking her as hard as he could manage across the face. Her neck nearly snapped, and she stumbled to the floor, gasping in pain, her lip bleeding. Her left hand went to her cheek…the kiss of the band of metal wrapped around her ring finger cool and soothing.

She prayed he wouldn't notice it.

"You foolish, stupid girl! I ordered you not to allow this atrocity to occur! What in God's name were you thinking?"

She did not respond…he grabbed her by her shirt and shook her, "Answer me!"

"…What do you want me to say, Giovanni? That we were just goofing around? I'm certain you can tell that isn't the case."

His eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"

She closed her eyes…wishing to be anywhere than here, wishing that she could go back in time and do things differently to avoid this situation. But no one can alter the past, no matter how he or she might wish to do so. Her voice was frail and quiet as she spoke, "He…he's my mate. I love him very much, regardless of what he is!"

There - she had said it. And instead of the rage she expected to be displayed on her guardian's face, he released her and began to laugh mockingly, "Is that so? Well let me correct you, Cassandra. You two cannot be 'mates'. 'Mates' are what a pair of pokémon is called. 'Lovers' are what a pair of humans is called. There is no term for this 'relationship' you claim to have with that clone! It's an abomination, and a frivolous one at that. And did I not warn you of what would happen to your precious 'mate' that you claim to 'love' if you allowed things to go this far?"

Her eyes widened as the threat he'd made so long ago came to mind, "No…you can't-!"

"Why not? That creature is my property! I can dispose of it however I wish and replace it with a newer model which you would never be allowed to grow attached to. It would be a simple enough task."

She bowed her head, shaking silently, "…What would I have to do to convince you not to hurt him? I'll do anything you want."

He stared at her pathetic form in disgust, before sighing, deciding against his better judgment to be merciful, just this once, "…Fine. I will give you one chance. Within the next week, you need to sever the connection you have with the clone. If I find out that you two have even glanced at one another afterwards, I will have it executed, no matter how you beg me to let it live."

Slowly, Cassandra nodded, rising to her feet. Everything hurt, not just her struck cheek, and everything seemed so terribly cold. As she turned to leave, Giovanni only added to her pain, "By the way, girl…if you are pregnant by that creature, I will see to it that the pregnancy is terminated. You will not give birth to a bastard monstrosity, do you understand me?"

"…Yes, Giovanni."

With that, she walked away…and as soon as she was out of sight, she began to run from him and everything he represented, turning around a distant corner and collapsing against a wall. Weak with anguish and overwhelmed with the choice that now lay before her, she slid down the stone face and into the shadows it offered. And there, only there in that isolated, empty hallway, did she begin to tremble and weep, her bitter tears running down her face….

Mewtwo gazed off into the distance, murmuring quietly, (…She told me nothing of that confrontation. Instead, she chose to suffer alone, struggling with the dilemma Giovanni had given her. In that week, she was torn between attempting to keep me close and shoving me away. She would grow upset for what seemed like trifle reasons; and no matter how I tried to discover what was making her so distressed, she remained stubbornly silent. After all, I trusted the one who thought of me as nothing more than a toy to be played with - I would not have believed her if she told me the truth…and even if I did, she understood what my reaction would be.)

(I would have fought his verdict. I would have either confronted the man directly or taken her from the organization immediately. Either way, I would have likely been killed in the process. I understand that now, though at the time, I believed myself to be untouchable. Like many young beings, I thought of death as a very distant thing. But Cassandra had been surrounded by it all of her life, and knew her godfather very well…she knew far better than I my mortality.)

(In many ways, she proved to be the stronger of us….)

"Mewtwo…will you do something for me?"

They were in the Gym at a forsaken hour of the twilight, sitting in the center of the vast, vacant arena. The pale moon shone through the dark, locked windows, lighting them in a phantom glow; and misty shadows swam around them randomly when vehicles passed on the streets outside, like benign, weary ghosts. Mewtwo could feel the human's knee against his leg, the touch brief and seeming to invite more, but while he would have liked to draw her close against him, to fill his nostrils with the scent of her, she did not seem to wish to be embraced in this moment. It was not the first time in the past few days, and the change in her attitude perplexed him deeply, even disturbed him when he thought of what it might mean. However, he would give her the space the desired...he had never been one to cling to another, even to her. Still, he sighed, gazing at her, wishing her desires were different this night, and answered her inquiry with a 'yes'.

She fiddled with the ring on her finger, "Promise me?"

(…Yes. Tell me what you of wish me, and I will do it.)

Did she not know by now that he would do anything for her? As he watched, her body, seeming strangely small and fragile then, trembled slightly, as if in fear or chilled. His brow furrowed as he observed the faint shiver, and he reached out a gentle, comforting paw, touching her back…. To his surprise, she pulled away, and rose swiftly to her feet, fidgeting in agitation. Within a moment, he had followed her, emotions of worry beginning to nip at the edges of his mind like starved little rodents. Without a word, he drew her against his form, letting his pelt warm her, and waited patiently for her to tell him what she wanted….

"I need you to let me go."

For a moment, confusion ensnared him, and he could not understand what she meant, whether it be from his arms currently or something…more. Yet spying the expression on her face, stony and full of sorrow, he began to comprehend what she was truly saying to him. She wanted him not only to cease embracing her presently…but also to release her from their partnership, their vows, and their invaluable bond. Clarifying this startling idea, he felt her take one of his paws and slip something cool and round into its grasp...her ring. The ring that symbolized the promises they had made to one another. She was returning it to him, taking everything back…silently saying that she no longer wanted what it entailed: a life that had him in it. He was too stunned and wounded to fight her as she tore herself from his grasp…then, too bewildered and angry to draw her back.

Finally, he found the words to speak, his tone being far more crisp than he'd intended, (…Was any of it true, all this time?)

She refused to look at him, "No…and for that, I'm sorry."

With that apology, she began to leave…and Mewtwo felt himself begin to break in response. It was not his heart which took the blow, at least not so soon, but his certain mind. It scrambled to understand her unexpected declaration, and the memories he shared with her, numbering in the thousands, flooded his brain. Chaotically the images played behind his eyes, vivid with each detail of the senses, each potent emotion, making lie to her hollow words. He shook his head abruptly and reached out, grabbing her wrist before she could take another step away from him.

(…You are lying.)

Her eyes widened, "Mewtwo, no, I-."

But he knew her far better than he knew himself… he knew that of all things she would have lied about in the past, the time they had shared together, even if short, was not in that category. It had been real and meaningful to both of them…and for her to try to deny that only made it clearer to him that she wasn't speaking the truth. No…something must have happened that she had not told him about, likely quite recently at that, that was forcing her to try to leave him behind - and Mewtwo could not stand that thought. For he remembered all too clearly what it had been like to live in utter solitude; to matter to no creature and have nothing he valued over everything else…even absolute power. He recalled well how empty and directionless that existence had been, and how much of a relief and elation it had been to find a path to walk – the one that ran with hers. He had given her a similar reason to take joy in being alive…and surely, she could not desire to surrender such a thing, could she?

Before he could speak again, she tried to tear herself free from his grasp, shaking her head, "No! Just leave me alone!"

(Why are-?)

She didn't let him finish, "I said LEAVE ME ALONE!"

But the clone didn't wish to do so…he merely stepped forward, trying to bring his mate back to him. She began to fight him, her arms flailing outwards, but still he came closer to her, his tail and arms beginning to envelope her in the warmth she so wanted but desperately needed to resist. For the only way she could keep Mewtwo safe was by driving him from her. But try as she might, all the venomous words she'd thought up to aid her in the horrible act caught in her throat - she couldn't find the strength to speak them, and she cursed herself for that weakness.

But within a moment, she had no choice but to act.

A flash of metal came from one of the balconies, signaling that her time was up.

Her eyes shot wide with fear as she saw the glint from the long gun barrel, and without a thought, she roughly shoved Mewtwo out of the way. The mercenary fired…and missed his intended target. Instead, the girl took the hit in the side. For a moment, she stood there, touching the wound in shock…her fingers coming away bloodied. From the ground, Mewtwo's eyes widened and he shouted her name. As she fell he dragged himself to her side, gathering her into his arms, her vital fluid flowing to the ground beneath them.

(Cassandra…!)

She gazed at him faintly…before hissing out, "Run…you idiot. Get out of here!"

Mewtwo glanced towards where the shot had originated from, finding no one there - the sniper had fled in panic at accidentally shooting the girl. Looking back at her, he saw she was fading…and refusing to accept the concept, he teleported them both to the medical ward and out of danger, out of the place where her blood had been spilled…only able to watch as she was taken away, since he was now inexplicably barred from seeing her. Several hours later, he would realize what had happened: they had been discovered, and someone had forced Cassandra to give him up, or watch him die. She had tried to protect him, sacrificing her own life if need be, in order to keep him safe.

And whoever it was would continue to try to separate them, no matter the potential cost…and Cassandra, who survived thanks to swiftly administered transfusions, would help that person, just to shield her mate from harm.

Which meant that what they had shared…what had meant so much to them…was over, forcefully killed against their wills.

They…were finished….

…Eventually, Cassandra recovered from the gunshot wound, being allowed by her doctors to return home. By that point, the clone himself had gone through the various stages of "dying". First denial…then anger…then thoughts of bargaining with the so-called higher powers to alter their fate…then depression…and then, finally, he reached some form of dark acceptance. There was nothing he could do now, and he knew it. In an attempt to cope with his loss, he battled with a ferociousness and violent force that made various trainers who dared try to get close to him cringe and flee…he howled during the nights when his grief became too much for him to bear. He demolished various objects around him in an attempt to quiet the destructive emotions that writhed inside his soul, like thorny, stinging vines.

But he never cried.

What use were tears? He would receive no pity from those around him, and they would not bring Cassandra back to his side. No…all he could do was bear the pain, and try to understand where to go from here.

In the end, he began to turn his sorrow into fury and hatred.

Why hadn't she had faith that he would protect them both? Why couldn't she have trusted him enough to tell him what was happening? He could have solved the issue with ease…he could have destroyed their enemies and taken her and Shadow away to somewhere safe, somewhere that they might call home. Somewhere that they…they would finally belong. Such a thing was well within his power, but she hadn't believed in his strength! She had not believed inhim, instead choosing to doubt that he could defend them all!

That grim thought led to an even darker one: for if humans could be so cruel to the ones they loved, who meant everything to them, than just what demons must they be to those they cared nothing for?

Yet even as those thoughts entered his mind, embittering her to him, some part of his heart understood and justified her actions and her choices. That same part of him told him that she too, was suffering - perhaps even more so than he, for she had been the cause. And he still loved her enough to want to make her pain cease. He still loved her enough that he wanted to keep her safe against those that sought to harm them.

One of them, he thought, shouldn't have to bear the hurt…or the shame….

"I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone…."

That night he came to her apartment, cloaked and silent, finding her sleeping quietly in her bed. A part of him longed to lie down beside her, to hold her again…but he refrained, only touching her face gently. She stirred awake as she felt his fingers…her eyes opening slowly, his image reflected in her pupils. She didn't speak or move…only contemplating him quietly, before asking him why he was there. He told her…and she closed her eyes, reluctantly accepting his decision.

"Nothing I can say or do will stop you, will it?"

(…It will spare you from the pain.)

She took his paw, smiling softly, sadly, "…If you say so…I, for one, don't agree."

He leaned forward, preparing his newly developed skill…he would have to be so careful….

"You were right, you know. I was lying."

He closed his eyes…not able to find the words to respond…and instead only gave her a small warning, (…When you awaken tomorrow, you will remember nothing of me.)

He leaned down the rest of the way, meeting his mouth with hers on last time, letting his energy wash over her, throughout her, entering her mind…and erasing all of the memories that they shared. From this point on, she'd picked up drinking tea by herself…from this point on, Shadow had been left for her by a stranger…from this point on, so many of her nights had been filled with blank, black dreams. To her, he would no longer exist….

(Goodbye….)

She slept…and he took all evidence of his presence from her quarters, knowing that it risked awakening the memories best left forgotten. The pictures Shadow had managed to take of them after stealing a camera, the rings and the chain that held them. As he stepped away, he spied the Eevee watching him, the expression on the child's face a mixture of anger, grief, and confusion. The kit understood why…but still, how could Mewtwo have done such a thing to his mate? How could he force her to forget everything so precious to her…?

The clone spoke to him quietly, not addressing that issue…his actions could not be revoked now, (Take care of her for me, Shadow. She needs you now.)

The Eevee nodded and went to his mistress, snuggling up against her chest.

As he walked away, she inexplicably began to stir back awake…blinking open her eyes, his image fuzzy in her grogginess.

He spoke quietly to her, (Please…please, do not look at me with those beautiful eyes of yours….)

"Who…who are you?" She asked, and to him, she sounded sorrowful, still as grieving and broken as he was.

He merely told her that he was a dream…and again, asked her not to look at him. For he couldn't bear her gaze…and in an attempt to purge from himself of the sight of her eyes, he hypnotized her into a deeper sleep, and then went to burn the rest of the evidence….

"…These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase…."

The flame in front of him consumed the pictures one by one, twisting them and turning them to ash, so like the softer part of his own soul. He looked at the images before destroying them, feeling himself growing colder with each one that he incinerated. Finally, only one was left…of them, lying in each other's arms in her bed, the dawn casting its light into her home. He held it over the flame…before drawing it out of harm's way, keeping and clutching it close. Because if all else fell into darkness, he never wanted to forget her face, nor what he had once held so dear. Likewise, he could not destroy the rings or the chain…instead hiding them all in the forest where they could not be found or damaged. He would retrieve them, in time.

But when?

Finally, he asked himself one question he had not wished to face: if his purpose was not to be next to her…then what was it? As he asked the inquiry aloud, Giovanni answered him, making it clear just what he was to the man. Not an equal…just a tool. Just a weapon. Just like her.

Yet unlike her, he could break away - he could leave this damnable place behind and pursue his own destiny….

"…When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me…."

And as he destroyed the laboratory, flying from the place that had taught him all he needed to know of humanity and of life itself, he left behind every part of him that had felt he belonged there. He let the part of his heart that had known joy and companionship die…for he was alone now. He had been born alone, and he was doomed to remain that way. That, he understood, was how it should be.

And never once did he dare look back….

---

Mewtwo's voice feel silent, and he sighed as if some weight had been lifted from him now that Cassandra's and his story had been told, (…So now you know.)

Psyche was both saddened and appalled, "Espe? Espeon?" she whispered, "Amnesia? That was how you solved the problem?"

(…If I had not, we would have been drawn together again. Inevitably, one of us would have been too sorely tempted to stay away. We would not have been able to help ourselves - and then it truly would have been the death of us. Yet by erasing my memory from her, it was as though our union had never occurred. Because to forget something makes it vanish completely, as if it had never been.)

He smirked with some dark, bitter humor, (The humans have an apt saying, Psyche: that to be forgotten is worse than death. In that belief, they are correct - for your demise will ultimately affect nothing and no one in the end. So in a way, that is what you become: the absence of existence. To add to that accursed life, there is a great pain that accompanies it, which multiplies with each second it continues.)

(Unless you dispel your own soul and shed your past – essentially who you are, away, you cannot find relief. But even that path is not without its consequences: for it sentences you to an existence of meaninglessness, where there is no semblance of hope…only unbearable emptiness)

And perhaps that is for the best when concerning a creature that is outside the natural order of being. By some fluke, I belong to this world…it is, after all, the place in which I was created. Yet as for my fate…I can only conclude that it is to observe and drift for however long I continue to live. Certainly, I have freedom…and some small purpose which endures without the consent of a deity. But it is unfulfilling…unsatisfying….

How can it not be, without anything to give it meaning…?

"…You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me…."

"Espe?" Psyche broke into his thoughts quietly, lashing her forked tail, "Do you regret it now?"

(…Now that I must gaze upon her again, remembering what we shared and seeing what my actions did to her? Yes, I do feel remorse. For despite how strong and how beautiful a woman she has grown into…she is a changed person. The person that I cherished - that meant everything to me - is dead now. By removing my influence from her life, I also removed any reason she had to bear a soft heart. To her, she was alone all that time when she was at her worst. Only a little Eevee loved her…and if that were not pitiful enough, she had no future to look forward to, nor a hope to pursue.)

(Essentially, in forcing her to believe such a thing to be true, I killed my mate…and the creature she was turning into. Yes, there are similarities. There are times when I see something so akin to the girl I cherished that I long to be close to her once more. But I am merely fooling myself each time. We are no longer who we used to be. I realize that, and if she too recalled our past together, she would agree….)

"…These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase…."

Psyche mulled over his declarations, and over all she had learned during the twilight hours. Her heart felt dark and heavy, her body exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with the childbirth she'd recently undergone. As she watched, the sun began to rise on the eastern horizon, casting a fiery glow over the land and into the black crevices of the city, banishing the shadows of the earlier hours. It was still so cold though…the sun gave little warmth this deep into the autumn. Soon it would begin to snow, settling the world in a quiet peace that lasted for a short time before the chaos of life began anew.

Psyche understood that in that solemn chill was when we need the warmth of another beside us the most, telling us that eventually, the winter will end, giving birth to something miraculous and full of energy, hope, and warmth. Otherwise, we might just surrender to the eternity that the frozen world offers us.

The new mother wondered about many things during that fragile sunrise, and for the most part, those thoughts focused on Mewtwo's current situation. The woman he'd once loved, who had once been his teacher, his student, his lover, had been sent here to murder him. And due to what she had meant to him, once upon a time, he could not see her as his enemy. It made sense now, why he had not wanted to fight her, why he had spared her and treated her so kindly (even if distantly), and why she was not like the others to him.

Even now, he couldn't help but think of her as an angel - an angel that had once been his….

"…Espe," she asked, "…What will you do?"

(…If your mate appeared and wished to end your life, would you be able to resist him? Could you bear to murder him to keep on living?)

She closed her eyes…knowing well that she would not be strong enough to do so.

The clone breathed in the chilly morning air, feeling as if needles of ice had punctured his lungs, (This, Psyche, is Giovanni's revenge for my defiance. He knows that since Cassandra does not remember me, she will not hesitate to complete her mission. I, however…would not have such resolve. I may fight her…but when it comes to actually killing her, I would not be able to deal the final blow. He understands that she is my weakness…and he's exploited that vulnerability in the cruelest manner he can. I am certain he was laughing as he sent her here, knowing that her presence would torment me and only serve to make me an easy target.)

(For that reason, there is more than a good chance that she will succeed in her assignment here…. In fact, I am almost certain that she will kill me.)

"…When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me…."

He quirked a saddened grin, (It would be both a hellish and merciful way to die, I think, by her hands.)

The sun breached the horizon, red as a perfect circle of glowing ruby….

Her kits finished nursing, settling into dreams filled with soft things and sweet scents, and as Psyche licked her children clean, she wondered again at what it all meant. Mewtwo seemed to have accepted that he would soon be dead…and it did not seem to bother him. She couldn't say she blamed him. If she had to choose between her mate and herself, she would choose her mate a thousand times over.

But still…it was not fair. An adult as she was, she knew that such a thing didn't exist in life. If life were fair, Mewtwo would have never lost his mate…nor would she have. Now she understood why Mewtwo had allowed her to stay in his home, and why he had trusted her with so many of his secrets: quite simply put, they were alike. Yes, the situations they had experienced, the lives they had lived, were vastly different. But in one aspect, in love…the essence of it was the same.

Their affections had been forbidden and condemned by all around them…and in the end, they had been rife with pain and loss, and with the knowledge that they would never again know the sweetness that they had once shared with their beloveds. Yet wasn't that always the case? We loose everything we love. It's inevitable in life, and by some stroke of insanity, we seek to replace what we lost, only to loose it again. And again. And again, in a cycle, we can never hope to control or hinder. Yet that doesn't stop us from trying to find happiness and hope. Because that, ultimately, is the essence of life. The pursuit of heaven even through hell.

Psyche understood what had to be done.

"Espe…," she whispered to herself, "She deserves to know…."

The Espeon understood that well - knew the wrong that the clone had committed had to be corrected. The human had a right to know her past, and how, for a short time, barely a second in the expanse of her life, she had been cared for - that she had held passion and love in her arms, and had a reason to live for beyond her so-called "purpose". She deserved to know that at one point in time, she had been happy….

And she deserved to know the full consequences of her actions if she killed the male who had once been hers.

So Psyche rose, nuzzling her kits before she left, letting their smell wash throughout her…they smelled like their father, her sweet Eros. Then she walked onwards, entering the room Cassandra was staying in, knowing that Mewtwo was too far away in the city to intervene; knowing that this was probably the only chance she had to lead the human to the truth, and perhaps save her friend….

The woman sat up, her silver eyes peering at the small psychic feline.

"…I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along…."

"…Espe," Mewtwo's roommate asked the other female, "…Do you want to know who Mewtwo's lover was?"

The assassin stared for a moment…before getting out of the bed, giving the creature a curt nod. Psyche looked at her grimly, for before he had left, Mewtwo had admitted to Psyche where the last remnants of his history with Cassandra was: in the small black book beside his hammock, full of poems, theories, and quotes, rested the last, unburned photograph.

The feline told her exactly where it was….

"Espeon," Psyche murmured, "Just tell me one last thing, Mewtwo."

He was listening…the scarlet sun casting fire in his eyes….

"…Espe?" she asked, "…Do you still love that woman?"

"…When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years…."

His paw twitched…and he did not speak.

To her, that silence was strangely eloquent…and as it always did, the sun continued to rise, exiling the darkness of all things….

"…But you still have
All of me."

---

Author's Note:Never again will I write a chapter that long…! For those who endured it, I plead you to give me two more minutes of your time andplease leave a review. This was quite a bit of work, and like a puppy, I like being rewarded for my efforts. I'm simple in that way, and feedback encourages me to start writing the next entry immediately, which will bring you all a quicker update. For those who might be tried of hearing me ask for your comments, first off, A.) It's the fanfic-writer's compulsion; and secondly, B.) I wouldn't have to if you all reviewed in the first place! Trust me, if you left, oh, let's say forty reviews a chapter, you'd never hear me ask that, I am attempting to compile a soundtrack for this story. If any of you have any ideas, any at all, I would love to hear them. At this point, I don't care what genre, language, or time-period the songs are in, be it death metal, country, orchestra, etc. - I don't care. I'd just like your opinions as readers…and for another matter, I don't have the chance to listen to enough music these days to find some fitting or obscure material.

All I ask is that you take it seriously, and keep things appropriate.

As always, thank you for reading.

See ya'.

WiseAbsol

P.S.- On an entirely firmer note, do not bring up the rape scene with me. At all. I wrote it for some very personal reasons, and I am not comfortable with sharing them with any of you. If you do mention it, know I won't respond to your comments – and if you flame me on the matter, keep in mind that I do take rape very seriously. Understand that I needed to write it out for me – if it was only something concerning my character, I would not have gone into detail. That said, I would appreciate to be left alone on the matter. Since most of you are kind people, I expect you to respect my wishes.