Chapter 21: Scars

"Char. Chaaar? Meleon'charr? Chaar, meeleon char'charmeeleon."

My hazy, sleep-addled brain only barely registered the Pokéspeech in my ear or the claw poking my shoulder. I pulled the covers over my head, but that didn't stop either of the two intrusions.

"What is it?" I grumbled, emerging from under the covers to find the Charmeleon eye level with me. This had better be good. Though judging by the last few times he'd woken me up, it probably wasn't.

"*I finally worked up the nerve to talk to Charizard.*"

Part of me vaguely registered that I had wanted to see that. It had probably been amusing.

"*She's, uh… got a thing with Dragonite…*" he continued, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "*But she did teach me how to use Flame Burst.*"

"That's good," I replied dully.

"*It's better than good. My fireballs always went out before. Now they go, like… clear across the battlefield and explode.*"

Alright, yes, that was pretty impressive. I wasn't sure what kind of response he was hoping for, though.

"*You should come train me. I think I'm close to evolving.*" It was painfully obvious in his voice that he was just saying it to get me out of bed. I didn't doubt that he legitimately wanted to train, it just clearly wasn't the main motivation.

"I'm not feeling it right now," I said, covering my face with a pillow so I didn't have to look at him.

Firestorm groaned. "*That's what you said yesterday.*"

"It just doesn't sound appealing, okay?"

"*Then what does?*"

I didn't want to answer that. Because the truth was, I didn't really want to do anything right now. Eating and showering mostly just felt like a chore. Sleeping was nice, I guess. Even if it was impossible to get comfortable and my left arm wouldn't stop throbbing ever since I'd changed out the bandages and smothered it with every disinfectant I could get my hands on (only because Swift had sat next to my bed and calmly stared at me until I did).

Firestorm had stolen the card key to my room so he could come in whenever he felt like it, which was often. Bragging about victories. Complaining about losses. Relaying every single thing Stalker had ever said about his progress—including reminding me how close he was to evolving about five times a day. And it wasn't that I didn't want to see any of those things—heck, I'd never forgive myself if I missed his evolution. But… I just… I couldn't bring myself to face everyone. I couldn't even explain why—the idea was just so completely and utterly uncomfortable on every level that it was just easier to stay in my room until the feeling passed. Whenever that was.

"You can train without me, you know that, right?" I said quietly, lifting the pillow a bit to look at him.

The fire lizard gave an unimpressed snort. "*Obviously. I used to train by myself, remember?*" When I didn't respond, he added, "*That doesn't change the fact that you're my trainer, and you're supposed to train me. So you have to do it.*"

He was still trying to pretend he wasn't worried about me. In a way, that was worse than if he'd come right out and said it. I should have been able to bounce back from this. I knew how ridiculous it was that I'd lost the will to do anything and that the idea of facing anyone who knew what had happened was nauseating. I'd already spent countless hours mentally kicking myself over it, but the feeling refused to subside.

When I didn't say anything, Firestorm glowered and plopped down on the floor like he was going to wait it out. But he'd get bored and leave eventually—that much I knew. And then I wouldn't have to think about the fact that he had a point.

I could count on hearing someone knock on my door several times a day. Usually they went away when I didn't respond. Rudy would sometimes hold entire conversations with the door, though. This was one of those times.

"Hey Jade! Get this—Darren's Ivysaur evolved. I can't believe he got his starter to its final form before we did."

I could. With how little he cared about training Wartortle.

"So I asked Stalker, and he said that Ivysaur usually evolves before Wartortle or Charmeleon. What's up with that?"

Hopefully that meant that Firestorm wasn't going to evolve quite yet. He'd been keeping pace with Ivysaur for some time now. Although I had no idea how much he'd been training for the past few days.

"So yeah, you gotta get out here and help me train, 'cause I really want a Blastoise—it's just so much cooler than Wartortle."

He could train with literally anyone. He didn't need to ask me. And there was a strange sort of desperation in his voice that I couldn't quite place. I screwed my eyes shut and willed him to leave as hard as I could. I didn't want to think about how disappointed he was that I wasn't up to training with anyone. I should have been up to it. I shouldn't have felt like this.

Rudy rambled at the door for a few more minutes before finally leaving. I thought I'd feel better after he left, but I didn't. The anxiety had just evolved into a sickly emptiness.

Yep, this sure was easier than just going outside and seeing everyone.

I grabbed the remote and flipped the TV on, willing myself to stop thinking about it. Normally the competitive battling channels were the easiest way to distract the mind and keep unpleasant thoughts at bay. I quickly found that there was nothing good on, though. Not in October, with the regional league over, and all the master trainers biding their time for the championship circuit that would eventually lead into next year's Worlds. The kind of matches involving trainers who'd gotten multiple badge sets from multiple regions.

I flipped through the channels idly, passing by everything from boring amateur single battles with no strategy to Kalos matches that could easily be mistaken for super contests with all the stylish outfits and flashy transformations. I kind of wanted to find a Unova tournament or something—battles with a lot of Pokémon on the field just felt right after all of Stalker's multi battle training. Couldn't find one, though. Figures.

I finally settled on some kind of weird monotype tournament, with Pokémon teams limited to a single type. The fire-type trainer was absolutely dominating with a Talonflame, just tearing through the opposing fighting-type trainer. There was hardly any question of who was going to win, which kind of diminished the entertainment value. In any case, competitive battling was more fun to watch with Rudy—he always had interesting commentary, regardless of how close the matches turned out to be.

Maybe I shouldn't have ignored him.

A light fluttering to my left caught my attention, and I turned to see Swift gliding in through the open window, clasping a grocery bag in his talons. He dropped it on the bed and then landed alongside it. I stared at the bag for a few seconds before unfolding it to reveal a boxed lunch.

"How'd you buy this?" I asked. He hadn't borrowed my wallet—it was still sitting on the bedside table like normal.

"*Stalker gave me money,*" the Pidgeotto replied.

Great, now I had that to worry about. I wasn't sure why that was worrisome, it just was.

I didn't have much of an appetite, but I knew from experience that Swift wasn't going to back down until I took care of myself, and that he had way more patience than I did. So, fighting back every impulse that said food was completely unappealing right now, I opened the box. It was the 'trainer's special' containing an assortment of rice balls and dumplings—I'd gotten it a few times before. He must have noticed.

Swift perched on the end of the bed, preening a few unruly feathers and pretending he wasn't waiting for me to actually eat the lunch he'd bought.

"You can leave now," I said. I already knew he wasn't going to.

The tawny bird shuffled his talons a bit, looking down. "*You shouldn't push everyone away,*" he said quietly.

I bristled, then immediately tried to rearrange my expression into something neutral. "I know what I'm doing."

"*Are you sure?*"

No, I wasn't. Every hour since that night, I'd been doubting myself on literally everything. This was no different.

The others knew I'd been captured, and that it had been miserable in one way or another. But I hadn't told them what, specifically, had taken place. I couldn't… except for Swift. Even when I'd told him to leave just like I'd told everyone else, he'd sat there quietly, sometimes not saying a word for hours on end. He'd figured out how to unlock the window so he could leave and come back without relying on Firestorm opening the door, and he'd scarcely left me alone since then.

"*You're hurt,*" the Pidgeotto said, striding across the bed to sit next to me.

"I'm aware," I said, clutching my arm.

"*I meant here,*" he said, gently pressing his beak against my heart.

I swallowed hard and looked away. I had no right to be making such a big deal out of what happened. It wasn't that bad. I was being ridiculous. We'd been through plenty of rough situations by now. Why was this any different? Why was this ruining me?

Weak. That's what I was being. That's what I'd always been.

"What am I doing here?" I announced randomly. "I'm not the kind of person who can fight Rockets and protect Legendary Pokémon. Who was I trying to kid? I'm not strong enough for something like that. I never was."

"*But you did it anyway,*" Swift said with a matter-of-fact tone.

"I… what? That doesn't matter."

The Pidgeotto tilted his head. "*Why not?*"

I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn't really know how to respond to that, so I just took a large bite of rice ball—too large, my eyes started watering.

"*It was hard from the start. But you kept going, even when you were outmatched. Why?*"

I forced myself to swallow the bite I'd taken and then said, "I don't know. Because I thought it was important? Because I thought it'd make me important?" This was a pointless conversation. It was the same thing Stalker had asked me a few weeks ago.

Swift didn't say anything. He just fluffed out his feathers and settled into a relaxed position alongside me, making it clear he wasn't going anywhere. He didn't understand. It wasn't that I didn't want to go outside, I just… couldn't. They'd all seen me that night. They all knew. Everyone knew. Why did that bother me so much?

"They all know I failed. I don't know how to face that kind of humiliation," I finally said.

"*They don't think that about you,*" the Pidgeotto said calmly.

A pause. "…Yeah, but I do," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

"*I don't.*"

I screwed my eyes shut. Damn it, why'd he have to be all matter-of-fact like that. It was impossible to argue with.

Maybe if I could just… tell myself that his opinion of me mattered more than my own. Mattered more than everyone else's opinion. Though in a way, it already did, and that was the weird thing. I wasn't afraid of Swift judging me over any of this. He hadn't gotten frustrated, hadn't been disappointed, hadn't tried to push me to do anything… just sat by my side and… was there. If I could focus more on that than what I was feeling… then maybe…

I took a deep breath. "I guess it's probably time I went outside, yeah. You'll come with me, right?"

Swift beamed. "*Of course.*"

Every inch of me protested as I slowly made my way down the stairs with legs I'd barely used at all the past few days. But I didn't want to use the elevator. If I was going to the effort of even going outside in the first place, there was no point in taking shortcuts. Swift followed me down, flap-hopping a few steps at a time. Part of me wished he was still a Pidgey so he could sit on my shoulder like he used to.

Cold air washed over me the moment I stepped outside the stadium. But I kind of appreciated the cold weather—it meant that I could wear a jacket and hide the bandages on my left arm and the scabbed-up scraping all over the right. The last thing I needed was people staring at them.

I wasn't too keen on running into Rudy or Darren right away—not after the way I'd been ignoring them. Maybe later, but not now. So I avoided our group's preferred training field in favor of one on the other side of the stadium. Even there, I skirted along the outer edge of the clearing to avoid catching anyone's eye before sitting down on a log that served as seating. Swift landed alongside me, clutching the bark with his talons.

A dispute had broken out between the rebels of Group 1 and Group 16, and Reed, loudmouth as always, had challenged Sasha to a battle. Sasha… the Rebellion's primary strategist. There was no way this was going to go well for him, but at least it would be amusing to watch. They'd started a double battle—Reed's Electrode and Persian fighting Sasha's Pachirisu and Farfetch'd (I'd long since learned not to judge Sasha's weird Pokémon choices). The electric squirrel had immediately launched into a weird dance, waving its paws around obnoxiously. In the background, Farfetch'd was swinging its leek around like a weapon in a complex series of forms. Both of Reed's Pokémon immediately went after Pachirisu, much to his displeasure, seeing as he'd ordered Electrode to go for Farfetch'd. I wasn't totally sure what was going on, but I was pretty sure it was gonna spell Reed's downfall.

For the rest of the Rebellion, life had gone on after the previous Legendary mission. While there had been a fair number of injuries for both rebel and Pokémon alike, everyone had made it back—Rudy had mentioned that at some point during one of his many conversations with my door. In other words, no one else had been captured. It was probably unfair for me to assume the others had been unaffected by what they'd gone through. I mean… being in the line of fire was always terrifying. That kind of terror wasn't just going to go away once the danger had passed. And yet, I'd have taken it in a heartbeat over… that.

Pachirisu's dance continued—Reed's Pokémon were still ignoring Farfetch'd. The leek duck continued its forms, repeating them twice, three times. Something was about to happen. No sooner had I thought it than Farfetch'd rushed forward, brandishing its leek like a sword. A single strike and Electrode was sent rolling backward, sparks shooting out of it. Persian barely had a chance to register that its partner was down before it too was rushed by the ninja duck—one leek smack to the head, and the cat went down.

A roar of laughter burst out from Reed's teammate Kris as the former gaped at both of his unconscious Pokémon before recalling them and storming over to his opponent.

"Okay seriously, I know you cheated!" he shouted indignantly.

"Not my fault you don't know how Follow Me works," Sasha replied with a giggle.

I snorted. Alright, that was kind of funny.

Swift had huddled close to me, fluffing his feathers for warmth. I gave him a few scritches under his long red crest and said, "Alright, this isn't so bad. Better than the competitive battling channels, in any case." Swift gave a contented nod.

Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned to see Chibi approaching us pensively. I'd known that he'd made it back from the mission safely, but it was still a bit surreal that this was the first I'd seen or heard from him since then. Not that that was anyone's fault but my own.

Whatever small bit of happiness I'd felt upon seeing him quickly faded once I realized how troubled he looked. Swift glanced between me and Chibi a few times, then flapped his wings and took off for a tree behind us. Giving us privacy, was he? It did look like the hybrid wanted to tell me something.

"*Razors wasn't at the last mission,*" Chibi announced all of a sudden.

I turned toward him. The Pikachu was staring at the ground with such intensity that I half expected the patch of dead grass in front of him to burst into flames.

"I remember," I said slowly, not sure why he was bringing this up now.

"*We were all fighting for our lives. Even Aros of all Pokémon tried to save you.*"

Oh… that was it. He was forcing me to think about his problems so I wouldn't think about my own. Honestly… in a weird way, I kind of appreciated that.

"*I asked him why. Do you know what he said?*"

I shook my head.

"*He said he was afraid to fight them,*" the hybrid said disgustedly.

I stared. That… did make sense, from just the short amount of time I'd spent with Razors in Celadon base. He'd insisted on having Aros and Stygian do the bulk of the fighting. And he'd refused to spar with anyone ever since arriving here.

"*He was always willing to fight,*" Chibi went on. "*It was always the two of us against the world… or at least, against our world. Back then… that was what we lived for. That's why I fight. For what they did to him. For what they did to me. For what they're going to do. How can he just ignore that?*"

I clenched my teeth. I was starting to get a better idea of what was going on here. Razors had been fighting so long that he didn't have any fight left in him. And honestly… I couldn't help relating to that. It's what I was feeling, too.

"*I just… don't understand,*" Chibi finished brokenly, all anger gone from his voice.

"Why don't you talk to him about it?" I asked. It was probably a stupid question, but I didn't know what else to say.

The Pikachu closed his eyes. "*I don't know how… not anymore. It's like most of him is just… gone.*"

A cool breeze had started to blow, ruffling my sleeves and the hybrid's pointed head feathers. We sat there in silence for some time, listening to the wind through the trees and watching the few remaining leaves fall to the ground.

"*I always looked up to him, you know,*" Chibi went on suddenly. "*No matter what they did to us, no matter how hard we were punished… he always had this way of keeping the rest of us optimistic.*" His words had a hollow air, like he'd been holding onto them for far too long.

"*I was the one who always pushed for us to escape. Razors didn't need to be a part of it—our handler liked him best. But he went through with it for my sake.*" He paused, taking a deep breath. "*There was one escape attempt that went bad… worse than the others. Our handler was fed up. He'd always hated me most out of the hybrids. He was going to kill me, but… Razors stepped in. Took the attack that was meant for me, and scarred up the handler pretty badly.*"

Chibi lifted his head to stare at the sky. "*That was the last straw. They started testing mind control tech on all the hybrids after that. I was the only one that was immune,*" he said with a bitter laugh. "*It's my fault that it even happened to him in the first place. And now I can't handle what it's done to him. I'm pathetic.*" He buried his face in his paws, muttering "pathetic" over and over.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" I said, without even really thinking about it.

The Pikachu's eyes snapped open, and he fixed me with an incredulous glare. The sort of expression that I would have flinched at when I'd first met him, but I was far too used to seeing it by now.

"I didn't know him before, so it won't hurt as much for me to talk to him," I added.

Chibi blinked a few times, his eyes shifting back and forth. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "*If that's what you want, then sure.*"

The hybrid stood up and slowly shuffled away. But once he'd taken a dozen or so steps, he paused and said, "*Thanks,*" before leaving.

It wasn't that hard to find Razors. He never battled with any of the rebels, but he could usually be found quietly watching Aros and Stygian train. I didn't say anything as I sat down on the grass next to the Scyther, and he didn't acknowledge that he'd seen me.

I sat there for several minutes mulling over what to say. Telling Chibi that I'd talk to Razors was a lot easier than actually going and doing that. If the Pokémon that had basically grown up with him couldn't relate to him anymore, then what chance did I have? Even though that was kind of the whole reason I was talking with him to begin with.

I ran my fingers through my hair, ruling out a half dozen different ways to open the conversation. Eventually realizing that nothing was going to sound right and just going ahead and saying, "I noticed you and Chibi haven't seen eye-to-eye since you came to the island."

Razors turned his head toward me sharply, like he hadn't been expecting me to bring that up. But then, slowly, he closed his eyes and nodded.

"Is… is it alright if I ask why?" I asked cautiously.

For the longest time, the Scyther didn't answer. He just surveyed me closely with eyes that didn't betray a hint of emotion.

"*It's like we hardly know each other now,*" Razors said quietly. "*He's become so bitter, and I've become so… empty. He wants vengeance for what they did to him, for what they're going to do to the Legendaries. I want… nothing.*"

The Scyther stared off into the distance, something shifting in his eyes, though it was hard to tell what. "*I've forgotten how to feel things. He feels everything, all the time.*" In that moment, for whatever reason, it finally hit me—there was almost something nostalgic about his words. A longing for something in the past.

"You wish things could go back to the way they were before?" I asked slowly.

The mantis screwed his eyes shut, like he hated just thinking about it. "*We weren't happy, but we had each other. Now I should be happy. The nightmare is over. He's safe. But… I'm not happy.*"

Razors glanced down at my expression and chuckled softly. It had a hollow, empty feel. "*It's all right. I thought it might be like this. He desperately needs to be a part of the fight. I think I need to be away from it. I can't even fight the Rockets. Not without being terrified of what might happen.*"

Right. He was still worried that they might be able to take control of him again. And I didn't know enough about the experiment control to reassure him that wasn't the case. For all I knew, it could have been.

The Scyther shook his head. "*I shouldn't be telling you any of this. I know you've endured hardships of your own.*"

"It's fine," I said quickly. "It helps keep my mind off… things." So even he knew what had happened to me. I should have figured… it wasn't like Aros or Stygian had any reason to hide it. "So if fighting the Rockets is out… what about training? It's how Chibi keeps his mind off bad things."

Razors looked away. "*No one should want to spar with me. I was a killing machine for the Rockets. I've never learned how to hold back. I don't know if I…*"

I exhaled deeply and stood to my feet. "Look. Everyone and their mom has been asking me to battle all week, and right now I'm finally in the mood to do it. I think it'll do me some good to have a bit of adrenaline, and I think it'll do you good too."

The Scyther blinked several times in surprise. "*Are you sure?*"

"No, but let's do it anyway before I change my mind," I said, walking off to find one of my Pokémon. A few moments passed, but sure enough, I heard the crunching of leaves behind me as he followed. I honestly had no idea where the sudden burst of motivation had come from, but something about being able to focus on someone other than myself was definitely helping. And I wasn't in the mindset to question why.

I wound up locating Firestorm before Swift, which was just as well, because he was the one I had in mind for the battle.

"We're fighting Razors," I announced without warning as we walked up to him.

The fire lizard gave me the most incredulous double-take I'd ever seen. "*Seriously?*" I nodded firmly, and a wide grin formed across his snout. "*Okay!*" he exclaimed, taking a fighting stance.

I turned to face Razors. "I know you're way stronger than Firestorm, so we don't have to go until the knockout—we can call the match at first blood."

The mantis glanced between me and Firestorm with the sort of deadpan stare that I'd taken to mean he was severely skeptical of this arrangement. But he was hardly the only Pokémon on the island with dangerous weaponry. Darren's Sneasel had caused her fair share of heavy bleeding in a few matches. It was nothing to get too worried about unless you didn't have a Pokéball.

"Would it make you feel better if I keep his Pokéball in my hand the whole time?" I added. "At the slightest sign of trouble, I can recall him instantly."

Razors considered my words carefully, regarding me with an intense stare. Finally, after several seconds, he gave a short, slow nod.

"And that's okay with you, right?" I asked, turning to Firestorm.

The Charmeleon puffed out his chest. "*I'm not scared.*"

We took our positions at opposite ends of one of the dirt training grounds surrounding Midnight Stadium. Firestorm bounced lightly on the soles of his feet, lashing his flame-tail back and forth. Razors, on the other hand, kept glancing uneasily at his scythes. Any onlookers who knew nothing about the two would probably assume that Firestorm was the higher-level combatant.

And then it was like all the energy I didn't have over the past week hit me all at once, and I called out, "Alright Firestorm, show me that new Flame Burst!"

The Charmeleon planted his feet and took a deep breath, embers already starting to gather in his mouth. He then shot out a brilliant orange fireball that kept its size even as it flew across the battlefield. My eyes lit up—he'd really done it. But Razors wasn't fazed. In one smooth motion, the mantis leaped aside, allowing the fireball to sail past him, striking the dirt with such force that it exploded into a spray of embers.

I hadn't really been intending for it to hit, though—it was mostly to get Razors moving. The bug-type was now watching us carefully, body tensed and ready to dodge again, but making no apparent effort to attack.

"Another one!" I ordered.

A second fireball shot toward the mantis, this time striking much closer to him and catching his leg in the spray from the explosion.

"Alright, now—"

Something shifted in Razors's eyes, and he lunged forward, closing the gap between himself and Firestorm almost instantly.

"—Metal Claw!"

The slightest trace of a grin crossed Firestorm's face—he knew why I'd ordered that. While Razors's dash had been lightning quick, the follow-up slash was telegraphed. Firestorm had plenty of time to raise his hardened claws and block the mantis's scythe with a metallic clang. We'd used that same tactic against Sneasel a few times, and it had worked just as well here.

Razors paused slightly before jumping back from the clash and darting in again, this time from the side. Another slash, and the Charmeleon blocked this one just as easily. The bug-type's darts and dashes were impossibly quick, but the slashes themselves were… not. It was almost like he had to come to a full stop before swinging his arms.

Razors was holding back, but not the normal way by dampening attacks. Instead, all his moves were slow and uncoordinated, like this was his first time battling. Well, even if it was a quick match, at least a victory would boost Firestorm's mood and prove that not everything Razors touched died.

"Time for a Slash!" I yelled.

Firestorm's claws lengthened, sharpening within the attack's glow. He drew back an arm and swung it at Razors's chest, but his claws just bounced off the mantis's chest plates. Shoot, I'd forgotten. Razors's exoskeleton wasn't normal. What was it made of? I'd seen him tank fire moves effortlessly, so… rock? Wait—that just meant that Metal Claw was our best option for both defense and offense.

All of a sudden, Firestorm leapt back to avoid a slash that had come out of nowhere. Razors was on him in an instant, flowing from dash to attack in one fluid motion. The fire lizard swung his arms wildly, knocking away two more slashes, but with a lot less room to spare this time. My pulse quickened. So Razors was finally getting into the swing of it?

"Stick to Metal Claw, try to break his guard and land a hit!"

The Charmeleon responded by hardening his claws once again and deflecting two more slashes with an echoing clang. Razors's moves quickened, his breathing grew heavier. Firestorm swung his tail, trying to knock his opponent off-balance, but the Scyther was too quick for that and leaped over it easily. The Charmeleon darted forward while the mantis's guard was down, ready for the final blow!

But Razors was faster—while Firestorm was focused on attacking, the Scyther caught him with a clean slice across his left thigh.

"Alright, that's the match!" I called out, raising both arms.

Firestorm reeled backward, clutching his wound and scowling. "*Ugh. Thought I had that,*" he said before I recalled him.

My heart was pounding, my mind flooded with exhilaration. More surprising than the fact that Razors had gotten into the battle was the fact that I'd gotten into it. That was actually fun. A couple rebels were sitting off to the side, watching our battle. That fact didn't bother me as much as I thought it would.

Razors paused to wipe his scythe in the dirt before approaching me. "*You were right… that was nice.*"

"Told you," I said, chuckling a bit. But part of that was directed at myself.

The Scyther fixed me with an odd stare, and I couldn't really tell what he was thinking until he said, "*I have to thank you, you know.*"

"For the battle?"

"*For how much you've done for Chibi. You've helped him in ways I never could.*"

I frowned. "I… come on, that's not your fault. You weren't yourself for the longest time."

"*I know that,*" Razors said simply. "*But that doesn't change the reality of it. The things I did while under their control still happened. I know how close I came to killing him. I know how close he came to killing me.*" He paused. "*I'm glad he didn't succeed, though. That would have ruined him.*"

The tiniest bit of unease flickered in the back of my mind at his words. He didn't mean… the only reason he was glad Chibi hadn't killed him was because of how it would have affected Chibi… right?

Razors caught sight of my sudden change in expression and seemed to realize what I was thinking, because he quickly added, "*You don't have to worry about me.*"

I tilted my head, nonplussed.

"*If I didn't think there was a reason for me to be here, I wouldn't still be looking for one, would I?*" he clarified. So he did know what I was thinking.

"*Besides… if I give into despair, I'll have let them take everything from me. I can't have that.*" His eyes relaxed in a way that almost felt like a smile… or his equivalent of one. I smiled back. There was something oddly comforting in his words that kept resonating in my mind after he'd said them.

The crunching of leaves signaled that someone was approaching us. I glanced over my shoulder to see Stalker sauntering over, his hands in his coat pockets.

"Mind if I have a word?" he asked once he was a few steps away.

I bristled. This was the first time he'd seen me in days, and I had a suspicious feeling I knew what he was going to talk to me about. Still, I found myself nodding cautiously, and he motioned for me to follow him away from the training area. Neither of us said anything at first; the anxiety of what was coming hung over me like a thick fog.

"Let's talk your interrogation. You glossed over your torture, but I know it happened."

I exhaled slowly. There it was. But he was right. I kept trying to ignore it because it didn't happen, except it did happen.

"What do you want to know?" I mumbled.

"How are you feeling?"

I blinked. If I'd been expecting anything, it hadn't been that. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he continued to regard me with the same calm, unyielding expression.

"I… just had a Pokémon battle," I said, as though that somehow answered his question.

Stalker chuckled a bit. "I suppose that's good. The others have been worried about you."

I clenched my teeth and looked away. "Yeah, I know." Only about half of me wanted to evaporate away from the conversation, so that was progress at least.

"I knew, when starting the Rebellion, that something like this would happen eventually," he said. "It comes with the territory. I didn't expect how unprepared I was to handle it." I glanced back at him, honestly a bit bewildered by the idea that he could be unprepared for anything.

"So I want you to stop holding it in. Let it all out. What are you feeling?"

I scowled, rolling my hands into fists. "I don't know, a lot of things. I hate that I can't stop thinking about what happened. I hate how badly it's affecting me." My words sped up; my volume increased. "I hate that I can't do anything, I hate feeling so useless, I hate that everyone knows I failed, I hate that you know I failed." I was breathing hard, a swirling mess of emotions clouding my head. But in the midst of them all, I couldn't help feeling a glimmer of… relief?

"I took you off missions for your sake, not because you'd failed," Stalker said calmly. "You did not fail. From what the experiments told me, that mission would have gone a lot worse if it hadn't been for you." I knew that. I'd known that all along. For some reason I'd still managed to convince myself that wasn't the case, though. Because I felt like I'd failed. And rather than face that, it was easier to convince myself that everyone else thought so too.

"I know that," I said slowly, fighting every word. "I… think it'll take a while for the rest of me to accept that, though."

"That's fine. No need to rush it," Stalker said. "I should probably mention the real reason I took you aside, though." I tilted my head, a bit taken aback, and he went on, "Yesterday I announced what the Rebellion's next mission is going to be."

Right, I vaguely recalled Darren knocking on my door and saying something about me missing an important meeting.

"We're going to free Mewtwo."

My jaw dropped. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "We won't be able to do anything to oppose the Rockets so long as they have Mewtwo. We've seen it in action. Now we need to take it away from them."

I swallowed, feeling utterly torn. On the one hand, freeing Mewtwo, but on the other hand…

"I… still don't know if I'll be able to…" I began slowly.

"I'm not asking you to be a part of the mission," Stalker cut in. "But you're a member of the team, and you deserve to know. And it's not as though you'll have had no contribution—that data you recovered also contained info on how they're controlling Mewtwo. It will prove invaluable to our efforts."

My mind flashed back to the conversation I'd had with Mewtwo in the Celadon base. The last thing I'd said to him… that promise that I'd free him someday. It was such an insanely lofty goal. But Stalker had said it with unflinching confidence. Like there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that our team would be able to steal Team Rocket's greatest superweapon.

No wonder the Rockets were afraid of him.

Something else was prodding at the back of my mind now. Something I'd been meaning to ask him when I saw him again. One tiny detail from the interrogation that I hadn't buried away.

"Can… I ask you a random question?" I asked.

"Certainly."

"Are you the former Kanto commander? I keep hearing all sorts of rumors about him."

Stalker raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that who the Rockets think I am?"

I shrugged. "They're not sure if that's who you are. I think it's their main theory."

"That's interesting," he said, rubbing his chin. "Well, it's always good to keep them guessing."

I stared. He… really hadn't answered my question at all. "So… are you?"

Stalker gave me a pointed look. "Do you think I am?"

"I don't know anything at all about the former commander, so I have no idea."

"I see. Well you wouldn't have heard much from any Rockets. They don't like talking about what happened." More redirecting. He obviously wasn't going to tell me. I'd learned by now that pushing Stalker to explain something he didn't intend to was a lost cause.

"Holy crap Jade, you're out here?!" a voice called out all of a sudden, followed by hurried footsteps behind me.

Oh geez. Even if I was feeling a little better, I wasn't sure how easy it'd be to handle Rudy levels of enthusiasm.

"Jade! Darren's beaten me twice in a row, you gotta come kick his butt," Rudy said breathlessly once he'd reached me. Oh, for the love of—that's what he was opening with? I shot a pleading look at Stalker, but he just smirked and gave a small wave before walking off. Damn it—now I really wasn't going to get any answers from him.

I turned back to see Rudy staring up at me way too eagerly. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and said, "Alright," before following Rudy back to the training grounds. Maybe a few more battles wouldn't be so bad.