Angelic Shadows

by WiseAbsol

With his memory of Mewtwo restored, Giovanni sends one of his Elite to take care of the clone for good. While Agent Cassandra has no reservations about accepting her assignment, there is much she hasn't been told about her target, and more than one life that hangs in the balance.

27. Sins of the Father - Part 2

Author's Note: This chapter originally quoted lyrics from "We Have It All" by Pim Stones, "What Could Have Been" by Sting, and "Just a Man" from Epic: The Musical by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. Since FFN doesn't allow song lyrics to be included in submissions, these quotes were removed from this version of the chapter. The unabridged version can be found on AO3.

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CHAPTER 27: SINS OF THE FATHER—PART 2

WHAT WE DESERVE

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This chapter is dedicated to HerrWeidner and Calico Anne, who journeyed with me on my Angelic Shadows reread and believed in my ability to update this story. Thank you both so much! I couldn't have done it without you.

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"If you spend your time hoping someone will suffer the consequences for what they did to your heart, then you're allowing them to hurt you a second time in your mind."

― Shannon L. Alder

"Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it."

― Ann Landers

---

Thirty-One Years Ago:

After the crash, Caleb's memories shattered like the glass of a windshield. Shards of time cut through his brain, revealing slices of what came afterwards: The taste of vomit as he held on to the crumbled fender, retching from the pounding in his head. The sting of scorched rubber in his nose. Nadia leaning against a tree, forehead streaked with blood. The shriek of metal as the driver's door was kicked open, with Giovanni clawing his way out. Beams of red light dancing on the other side of the road. Shadows swirling in the smoke around them.

Caleb heard a pop, then a familiar draconic roar. Heat and golden light bathed his face as Giovanni's charizard blast fire at the people approaching them. One of their faces was familiar. Madame Maki scowled at them, then gestured with one hand.

There was a crack of thunder, then another, and another. The charizard jerked in the air. Hot rain flecked against Caleb's face. The pokémon hung there for a moment, as if gravity was quibbling on whether it wanted to step in. Then it fell, crashing into the ground with a thud that throbbed in Caleb's breastbone.

Giovanni howled. The rain trickled down Caleb's cheek. When he wiped it away, the back of his hand was streaked with red. It stank like sulfur.

Then the ash fell. It was discolored, shimmering purple and blue. A sweet taste bloomed in the back of Caleb's throat as he breathed it in. And then there was nothing.

---

He dreamed afterwards. He was at a campfire with Giovanni and Nadia. His golbat, Dusk, was draped over his shoulders like a cloak and was drooling down the back of his neck. Her spittle numbed where it touched, but repeated exposure had made Caleb immune to its paralyzing effect. While he mended a hole in his jacket, Giovanni and Nadia poured over a rider and driver magazine. An article on a new motorcycle had caught her eye. The two were discussing wiring and ignition sequences. Caleb wondered whether Giovanni was planning to buy her the bike as a gift or steal one with her, and if that, finally, was going to be the opener to his proposal. He already had the ring. Caleb had helped him pick it out in the last city they'd visited.

"It has to be perfect," Giovanni insisted, as the jeweler pulled out another selection for him to take a closer look at.

"I'm pretty sure you could give her a key ring and she'd say yes," Caleb pointed out.

Giovanni scowled at him. "That's not the point."

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly the point."

"She deserves the best," Giovanni said.

"And she's getting it, even if you give her a cheap ring," Caleb said.

Giovanni's cheeks colored. "How you can say that with a straight face?"

"Calling it like I see it," Caleb said, leaning against the counter. The jeweler shot him a glare. He ignored it.

"When are you going to find someone, anyway? My dad's been asking," Giovanni said.

"Tell him he's too old for me," Caleb joked.

"Don't put that image in my head."

"Have you seen him in a tux?" When Giovanni shot him a look of pure revulsion, Caleb laughed. "I don't know, Gio. No one's ever really caught my eye like that."

"So you're never going to—"

"Maybe I'll meet someone someday. Until then, I'll just live vicariously through you two."

"We are not inviting you into the honeymoon suite. Just to draw that line right now."

"You sure? Nadia might be into it."

There was a cough from the jeweler, who was rather red in the face.

"I'll take this one," Giovanni said, pointing to a ring with a square-cut diamond and flecks of citrine around it.

"You and the color orange," Caleb said as the piece was boxed up and Giovanni handed over a stack of cash from his battle winnings. The jeweler grimaced and began counting it out, holding the larger denominations up to the light.

"It's her favorite," Giovanni said.

The night around the campfire was a week later, with the final stretch of the league on the horizon. The couple, finished with the magazine, tended to their starters. Nadia's meowth, now a persian, rumbled as she brushed her, sending wisps of pale fur into the air. Giovanni wiped his charizard's wings down with moisturizing oil, making the red scales gleam in the firelight. The rest of their pokémon teams were sprawled out around them, some snoring, some snapping at the moths that fluttered their way into the campsite, some peering into the darkness for anyone who might interrupt their rest. Sometimes green eyes gleamed through the brush, but then vanished. None came near.

It was the kind of night they'd shared a thousand times before. But Caleb's thoughts kept returning to it, turning it over in his mind like a skipping stone in his hand. Because it was warm, safe, and peaceful there, and he'd wanted it to last. He'd thought it could last.

But outside of their campsite, a whole world turned. And the people in it had different plans.

---

Here is a fact that Caleb had never considered, because it hadn't seemed like it would affect him: Kanto had lost its last war. It had ended before their journey began, the frontlines far from their childhood homes. There had been evenings when their parents gathered around the television and the radio, listening to the news, tense for sirens that never sounded. There were whispers of their army being ground down, then the announcement of a draft, which swallowed the older members of the league. Then, finally, there was a quietly snuck in—and then explosive—change made to trainers' licenses: The age restriction was lowered. Ten-year-olds could now participate in the circuits. Children around the country were thrilled. Adults side-eyed the change. The circuits were suspended, after all, so why give out starter pokémon to even younger trainers? All they would be allowed to fight were the birds and bugs in the fields near their homes.

Unless, of course, the age of the draft was lowered, too.

There were protests. The war had eaten one generation already. The people of Kanto didn't want to lose another. Government officials denied any such plans. Confidential files were slid under stacks on failing harvests and gross military spending. Over the following months, then a year as the fighting continued and the death tolls rose, as islands changed hands and borders shifted, the change in the draft was delayed. And then Orre—Kanto's ally, which had made the first strike and had dragged Kanto into the war in the process—was bombed to near oblivion. Orre surrendered. Kanto balked at meeting the same fate. It raised the white flag and then the war was over.

Afterwards, the rebuilding began. A handful of officials were investigated. Some went to prison for war crimes, others into early retirements, while a few clung stubbornly to their positions. The country limped on and the lowered age limit for trainers was never changed back, because suddenly it was peacetime again, and what was the harm in making the circuits more fresh-faced and lively? The system was adjusted to be more youth-friendly. Pokémon Centers cropped up in every town, the taxes on potions and battle items were lowered, and the teams in the gyms were scaled down to make the fights less one-sided.

By the time Caleb, Giovanni, and Nadia joined, the new system was running smoothly. Most of the damage from the war had been painted over. But a few people still grumbled about it—about how no amount of spit and shine would erase the stain of defeat. Kanto was weaker than it had been before the war and had nothing to show for the generation they'd lost.

"You won't last long in combat," one of the gym leaders told Giovanni with a glassy look in his eyes. Then he startled as if his own electric pokémon had shocked him. He shook himself like a dog and smirked, but his grin was strained. "Lucky for you, this ain't a real battlefield."

He wasn't much older than them. He'd probably been one of the last to be drafted. He confirmed that later, after they'd gone out for burgers to celebrate Giovanni's win. "I was a pilot," he explained. "They put me on supply runs at first. Then they saw what I could do with lightning, and that was that." He smiled, but it was more a baring of teeth.

"And you decided to keep at it afterwards?" Nadia had asked, her brow furrowed.

The gym leader laughed. "Shocking, right?" When Nadia scowled at the pun, he leaned back into his chair. "The League offered me good money. And they liked my eye for talent." He tilted his head towards Giovanni. "So kid, I've got to ask: Have you ever thought about becoming a gym leader?"

---

And here is why that matters: Those government officials who limped along? Who smiled and offered reassurances that Kanto would be fine, better than ever even, despite their loss on the world stage? Who said that even with a reduced military, they would lead in other ways, with better leagues, with better science, with better technology? They were lying through their teeth. They were putting on a brave face while seething inside.

They had lost. But they would not lose again. They would become stronger. Their people and their pokémon would become stronger. With the advances they were making, there had to be a way. The Silph Company was promising to make a pokéball no pokémon could escape. Geneticists on Cinnabar Island were reviving long extinct pokémon from lumps of stone. A recent strain of PokéRus was amplifying pokémon attack power, rather than reducing it. The Shadow Pokémon experiments in the decimated Orre had produced a few promising test cases, which their allies had kindly sent along. There were whispers that more psychic humans were being born, including a girl in Saffron. There were even rumors that the phantom pokémon, Mew, had been seen in South America for the first time in centuries.

So much power for the taking, if they could just find a way to grasp it.

So a proposal was made. Could a virus like PokéRus be designed to amplify human abilities? Unlock whatever gene it was that had given some of their citizens psychic powers? The idea was tempting. It would give them an edge no other country had. But it would require some human trials. People might get sick. People might die.

But then again, people would die if they went into another war unprepared.

They spread the word for volunteers. They offered generous pay. Kanto was healing, but there would always be those who were just scraping by. The veterans. The handicapped and the mentally ill. The refugees who'd refused to go back to where they'd come from. They could always pull from the prisons, too. For a cause as important as this, anyone would agree that it was worth it.

(Not everyone agreed. A few of them disappeared, too.)

So when Caleb woke, he found himself in a room that smelled like bleach and badly candied lemons. The walls were the white of old bone and the ceiling was illuminated by bars of fluorescent lighting. There were no windows. The only door out was made of steel, with a lock that couldn't be accessed from their side. There were multiple beds in the room, divided by translucent curtains. An IV unit stood over him and dripped a clear, blue-tinged fluid into the tube running into his arm. When he tried to sit up, he discovered that his wrists and ankles were bound to the railings around his mattress. The stiffness in his shoulders and hips suggested that they had been for a while. He moved his hands and feet experimentally. The leather of the bindings was snug, though not enough to cut off blood flow. He could still wiggle his toes.

He blinked, confused. Had they been taken to a hospital? Were his injuries so bad that he'd been strapped down to avoid wrenching anything when he came to? There was some soreness, but no sharp pains—nothing to indicate a sprain or a broken bone. But then again, if he was on painkillers, would he feel that?

Maybe there was a nurse who could explain. "H-hey?" he rasped. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Is anyone there?"

No one came, but through the curtain to his right, a shadow shifted. "You finally awake?" Giovanni asked.

"No, I'm sleep-talking," Caleb said. "Orange donphans are dancing over my head."

"Very funny." Giovanni did not sound amused.

"This Viridian General?" It didn't look like any of the public rooms he'd seen, but he hadn't explored the place from top to bottom.

"Too many armed guards for that," Giovanni said. "The doctors always have at least two with them when they come in. Just in case we slip our leash."

"You saying that from experience?" Caleb asked.

"Not mine," Giovanni muttered.

"He's just jealous that I got out of my restraints and punched a nurse in the face," Nadia called from deeper in the room.

"They gave you a black eye!" Giovanni protested.

There was a clinking of metal. "And some chains. I'm too scary for them to handle."

An awful thought occurred to Caleb. "Are they holding us prisoner?"

"Well they're certainly not letting us leave," Giovanni said. "I tried asking nicely."

"But we didn't do anything!" Caleb protested.

"I don't think they care," Giovanni said.

"This can't be legal," Caleb said.

Nadia barked out a laugh. "You know that doesn't matter if they don't get caught."

Caleb's stomach plummeted. "How in trouble are we?"

There was a lengthy silence. "It's bad," Giovanni said. "My mother—she and the military are working together on an experiment. She steals research and resources they can't get through official channels. They give her tech for her heists and don't go after Team Rocket as hard as they could."

That didn't sound terrible. Sketchy, sure, but beneficial to both parties. "And where does keeping us prisoner tie in? It's not like we've blabbed about your mom before. Do they really think we're going to start now?"

"They don't know that we won't. And they need human subjects for the experiment."

What? He couldn't seriously be suggesting—that was crazy. "Are they testing out mind-control soap or something?" Caleb asked weakly.

"Making super-soldiers through the use of a retrovirus, actually," Giovanni said.

There was no way that was real. "That's science fiction bullshit."

"They don't think so. They've figured out which genes turn on psychic abilities. The virus is supposed to activate them," Giovanni said.

Caleb stared at Giovanni's shadow through the curtain. "Does it work?"

"It worked on a pig. Once. But all it's done on humans is make them sick. Most of them haven't pulled through," Giovanni said.

"So they're what—grabbing people off the street for this?" Caleb asked. He'd heard of things like that happening in other countries. It wasn't supposed to happen here.

"Some of them. There were also volunteers. But I don't remember signing any forms, do you?"

Caleb's mouth went dry. "They're going to infect us? When?" Maybe they could escape before—

"We got the first dose while we were out," Giovanni said, sounding weary.

"I don't feel any different," Caleb said.

"It's a virus. There's an incubation period. In a couple of days, we'll feel it."

Caleb's thoughts scurried around, like a dozen rattatas trying to make it across a frozen lake. "But they can't do that. We're civilians!"

"We have records," Giovanni pointed out, "and connections to a gang. And now we've 'stolen' state secrets. No one is going to blink at us disappearing."

"But we've been clean for years. And our families—what are they going to tell them?"

"That we died in the crash, most likely," Giovanni said.

"But your mom. She was there," Caleb remembered. "She knows—"

"You think she'll tell them? This was probably her idea. If this works, she'll have a shiny new tool for Team Rocket. If it doesn't…." There was a rustle of fabric as Giovanni shrugged.

So she'd thrown them to the wolves. She might have even planned this. Had she left those confidential files somewhere Giovanni could easily find? Had she set them up just when they'd been on the verge of breaking away from Team Rocket for good? Had Giovanni's father known? Had he tried to do something to stop this and been killed for it? Caleb didn't want to think that Madame Maki could be so ruthless, but the fact that they were here said otherwise.

"What about your brother?" He'd always had a way of making Madame Maki come around. If anyone could convince her to take this back, it was him. "If he knows—"

"Even if he does, it doesn't mean he'll help us. He's never been able to stand up to her," Giovanni growled.

Caleb didn't want to believe that. He couldn't imagine his own brothers leaving him here. Not if they knew that he hadn't agreed to this. They'd come in with their pokémon hurling elemental attacks and wrenching the doors open with telekinesis. They might fail to free them, but at least they would try. They wouldn't let these doctors kill him. Not for a science experiment that wasn't even working.

But in the days that followed, if any of them suspected what was happening, no one came for them. There were only the doctors, and no matter what Caleb said to them—trying to reason with them, then plead with them, then curse at them, warning them that if he died, his brothers would make them pay—they looked at him impassively and injected more blue fluid into his IV. "I have orders," one of them said, in a tone that suggested that he should try to understand. When he told them that wasn't good enough, they ducked their head and hurried out.

Eventually, Caleb stopped having the strength to talk. The fever left him headachy and nauseous at first, then shaking and soaked with sweat. It soon grew hard to tell whether he was awake or dreaming. Either way, colors wormed across his vision, forming into strange shapes and creatures. Spiders as large as ponytas stretched their limbs across the ceiling, making their way slowly, ichor dripping from their faces as they went. They had human faces, purpled with rage and pain. Sometimes they were faces he knew.

Other times he woke and found himself elsewhere: In the shop he'd spent a few weeks working at, trying to stock the shelves, but there was always more to add when he turned the corner into the next aisle, and his boss and the customers were getting impatient. In the parking lot of the Viridian City Gym, where he was running from something, but the air was thick and difficult to wade through. In his childhood home, with his teeth crumbling to pieces in his mouth. He spit out the fragments and cried, knowing he would never get them back.

It hurt to breathe. His chest was sore from the effort, his throat raw from coughing. He called for help when he could manage it. He couldn't remember if anyone responded. How long ago had he seen the doctors? Hours? Days?

At one point, the steel door to their room was open. Madame Maki and Giovanni's brother stood in the hallway, arguing. Antonio was angry, gesticulating wildly. Madame Maki looked at him coolly. Then they were gone. Another time, he saw the doctors rolling out a table with a pile of sheets on it—or at least it looked that way, until he noticed the foot sticking out from them. Other people were brought in. Other people cried and moaned. Other people were taken away, still and silent.

One moment stood out to him later: When the curtains around him fell, yanked down by Giovanni. He'd torn through his restraints. His friend stumbled over to another curtain, pulling it down, then leaned over the bed beyond it. He shook the shoulders of the woman there. Her hair was red. Her lips were blue. Nadia. Thinner and paler now, but her.

She didn't wake. Giovanni screamed and Caleb wanted to shout, too. "Don't," Caleb wanted to tell her. "You're scaring him. You know how much he hates being scared."

Then his friend was swarmed by the guards, their batons rising and falling. He crumpled to his knees, lifting his arms to try to shield his head.

"Stop—" Caleb tried to say.

Another baton fell and Giovanni crashed to the floor. The guards dragged him away.

A moment later, a doctor stood over Caleb. "That's enough excitement, I think. You need your rest." She added a syringe of fluid to Caleb's IV and within a few seconds, he was gone again.

The next time he woke, he was no longer in the sick room. He was in a guest bedroom in the Maki family manor, with soft pillows beneath his head and a thick, cool quilt over him. His head pounded as if he'd been drinking the night before—had he? He couldn't remember, but the last time he'd been here, there had been a funeral, so maybe he and Giovanni and Nadia had gotten black out drunk? He'd had strange dreams, of car chases and shady governmental experiments—had they watched a thriller before bed? He sat up with a groan and looked out the window. He couldn't tell whether it was dawn or evening. The air outside was a deep amber color from the low, swirling storm clouds. There was a green tinge to them. He could hear the thunder growling through the glass. He shifted to put his feet over the side of the bed. A wave of dizziness washed through his skull, like cold soup sloshing from a bowl. He doubled over, trying not to throw up. Why hadn't he thought to get some water and aspirin last night? Now he would need to drag himself to the bathroom for it.

He reached for the nightstand, intending to hold on to it as he pushed himself to his feet. As he did, his gaze snagged on the skin of his wrist. Like the air outside, it was discolored, with a band of yellow-green bruises around it. He stared, trying to remember what could have caused it. He didn't remember anyone grabbing him, though, or tying him up.

Unless his dreams hadn't been dreams. A cold sweat broke out on his skin. If that was true, though, why was he here? He didn't remember escaping. So someone must have brought him here.

He shoved himself to his feet, grabbing the wall to hold himself upright. The door was unlocked. The strong scent of incense hit his nose as he stepped into the hall. There were vases of white flowers, too, and white banners hanging up. Still decorated for a funeral, even though it had been…what? Days or weeks since then?

The stairs were a challenge. As he stepped into the living room, he looked at the shrine that had been set up, then stared. It wasn't Giovanni's father's picture there. It was his brother's.

When had—how had that happened? But there was no one to ask. It didn't seem like anyone else was in the house. But then, down another hall, something crashed. Caleb jumped and, after waiting for his heart rate to slow back down, stumbled in the direction of the noise. As he got closer, he heard Giovanni's sharp voice.

"—did you set him up? Couldn't handle him going behind your back to help—"

"Please. Him dying means that I'm stuck with you. Does that sound like something I would do?"

There was a stretch of silence, before Giovanni said, "So what? His brakes gave out on their own?"

"I told him to take the car in. He said he'd fix it himself. Neither of those things happened." Madame Maki's voice was tight and crisp. "Sometimes accidents are just accidents. Even in our line of work."

"And maybe if he hadn't been so distracted, he wouldn't have gotten into an accident at all," Giovanni said. "Maybe if he hadn't been so worried about me—"

"Don't be dramatic. You're fine."

"What about Caleb? What about Nadia? She's dead because of you!"

Nadia was dead? No. That couldn't be true. It couldn't be.

"I never touched her—"

"You let them turn her into a lab rat! You turned us all into lab rats! And now she's dead. How are you going to explain that to her family? How—"

"You think they didn't know?"

The world went grey.

"What?" Giovanni's voice was quiet with disbelief.

"We needed to show them that we were serious. Put some skin in their game. It was the only way they would trust us and see us as partners. Valuable partners," Madame Maki explained. "We hadn't planned on giving them you. We had other candidates. But then you went and poked your nose into our business. And since you tell your friends everything…well, what were we supposed to do? Just trust that you three wouldn't blab to a reporter? Especially when you knew we were going to cut you off. You needed some information to sell, didn't you? So you went snooping." She tsked. "Really, if anyone's to blame, it's you. You forced our hands."

There was the sound of heavy breathing. Giovanni's voice was strangled when he spoke next. "No. You're wrong. It—it's not my fault. It's—"

"You can tell yourself that all you want. It doesn't make it true," Madame Maki said.

Giovanni's breathing grew louder, harsher. "You could have left us alone. We were fine. We were happy. Was that it? You couldn't stand that I was happy?"

"Why do you always make everything about you? This was about what was best for Team Rocket. And if the experiment had worked, you'd be thanking me right now."

"Thanking you? For what?"

"The serum was supposed to make you stronger." Her voice grew poisonous. "Obviously, it didn't take."

There was a splintering thud as Giovanni slammed his fist against something. After a moment, he rasped, "One day, you're going to pay for what you did to us. To me. And when that day comes, I hope I'm the one who does it. I hope I'm the one who puts you in the fucking ground."

Madame Maki was quiet. Caleb could imagine her watching her son, who was surely red in the face, maybe even shaking, given the sound of his voice. And then she tsked again and said, "Try it. You won't get far. Not with that attitude." She lowered her voice. "And don't forget—you're only here because your brother isn't. One word from me and they'll take you back. And Caleb. I still have Zachariah. I don't need you. But I'm giving you a chance to make something of yourself. To prove your brother right that you can be more than a disappointment. Are you really going to throw that away, just because your feelings are hurt?"

Giovanni's voice was more under control when he spoke next, though still rough from rage. "If I'm really that disposable, why give me a chance?"

"Because putting all your eggs in one basket isn't a winning strategy. Especially when that basket is a newborn," Madame Maki said. "But maybe you'll prove me wrong. Maybe you'll amount to something. Wouldn't that be a nice surprise?"

Giovanni mulled that over. "…What are you hoping to win?"

"Excuse me?"

"With getting in good with the brass. What are you hoping to get out of it?"

There was the soft sound of something that was half an exhalation, half a laugh. "Study well, and maybe you'll find out." Her heels clicked on the tiles as she walked over to the desk, then the sound of a shelf being pulled out. "You'll start business courses in a few weeks. Same track as your brother. And you'll have private lessons with me in the evenings. You'd best excel at both."

"I have a job waiting for me—"

"Tell them you're studying to learn how to run the Gym. You're young, inexperienced. They'll buy it," she said. "The current leader needs time to train you in anyway. Especially because you're specializing in…what, again?"

"Ground-types," Giovanni said, his voice strained.

"Right. You'll need time to replace the ones you lost," she said.

And Caleb remembered Giovanni's charizard smashing into the asphalt. Giovanni's voice cracked as he asked, "What about Nadia's pokémon?"

"What about them?"

"I want them. All of them. Especially her persian," Giovanni said, his voice stronger now.

"You'll have to take that up with her family. Legally, they have the rights to them," Madame Maki said. She sounded bored.

"Spouses come before family," Giovanni said.

"You weren't married yet," Madame Maki pointed out.

"It was only a few months away. It was close enough," Giovanni insisted.

"As I said, take it up with them," Madame Maki said. The clicking of her heels grew louder as she approached the door. "You're paying for that desk, by the way."

Caleb ducked around the corner as the doorknob turned and Madame Maki stepped out. She didn't seem to notice him, because she moved in the direction of the foyer. After she was gone, Caleb went to the room. Giovanni was still standing there, cradling his right hand in his left. The knuckles were purple and starting to swell. He looked up as Caleb approached him. His face was still flushed, but what caught Caleb's attention was his hair. It was thinner now, especially around his temples, and there were lines around his eyes and forehead that hadn't been there before. He looked like he'd aged ten years. Caleb wondered if the same could be said about him.

"You're awake," Giovanni said. He didn't smile.

Caleb touched the back of Giovanni's bruised hand, as gently as he could. "We should get some ice."

"How much did you hear?" Giovanni asked.

"Enough," Caleb said.

"I'm going to kill her. Someday, when she thinks she's made me into her docile little pet, I'm going to kill her," Giovanni said.

Caleb thought about it. He didn't like the darkness in his friend's eyes and voice. But he couldn't deny the black fire burning in his gut either, especially when Nadia's face flashed in his mind. So he nodded and said, "When the time comes, I'll help you."

Giovanni's mouth tugged up on one side. "You're more of a brother than Antonio ever was. Though he tried."

"I'm sorry. About him and Nadia," Caleb said. He tried to imagine how it must feel, to lose a father, brother, lover, and a starter in such close proximity to one another. It was hard to see how Giovanni could still be standing, let alone standing up to his mother the way he had been.

Giovanni closed his eyes, his expression pained. "I wonder if she was right. At least a little. They were both trying to help me—"

"No. This isn't on you. This was them. And we're going to get them back for it," Caleb insisted.

Giovanni opened his eyes, then nodded. "You're right. We'll make them pay. You and me. We're going to make them pay."

Caleb gripped Giovanni's hand and nodded, feeling blood smear beneath his fingertips.

---

Now:

"I don't buy it," Michael interrupted.

Caleb blinked at him over his coffee. "Which part?"

"This whole story about how our military experimented on you and your friends. Even if they had the funding for that—which they didn't, after the war—they were still under observation by foreign officials. So how did they not get caught? And why hasn't this come to light in the decades since then?" Michael asked.

"That was part of why they found Team Rocket useful. They had the money for bribes. And pokémon, if money didn't work. A pokéball costs what, now, with inflation? 200? And caterpie practically catch themselves. Trade a hundred of those for a hundred dratini—well, now you've got something to work with."

Michael didn't look convinced. "What proof do you have?"

Caleb gave Michael an unimpressed look, then tilted his head in Cassandra's direction. Cassandra felt a jolt go through her. The armlet she wore suddenly seemed tight. "Check my family's medical records. You won't find any limb mutations. Not until her," Caleb said. "Or did you think she got those wings naturally?"

Michael glanced at her, expression uncertain, though it hardened when he looked back at Caleb. "There still must have been some kind of record. And witnesses like the guards and doctors. Something to support your claims," Michael said.

"You underestimate how careful the military is when it needs to cover its ass," Caleb said. "And how angry Giovanni was about the whole thing. You'd have better luck cross-checking obituaries and service records. I'll give you the dates." He grabbed the notepad on the table and started jotting some down, along with a list of names.

"There were others," he added, when he'd reached the bottom of the page and turned to the next. "Who survived. Giovanni recruited a few. Told them they'd been used, that that they deserved better. Some of them went to school with us. One opened a casino in Celadon. We'd get drinks there. Talk about the future. Talk about who hadn't had their comeuppance yet. Some of them were even angrier than we were. Some of the doctors had blabbed, promising them powers. None of us got any. So on top of all that pain, they felt cheated. They wanted to have gone through that for something. For it to mean something. And they were willing to make it mean something if the world didn't." Caleb shook his head. "I suppose we felt the same."

"So you did something about it," Cassandra said, feeling something like resignation settle in her gut. Though perhaps resignation was the wrong word. Inevitably—that was it. There was something that felt inevitable about all of this.

Caleb nodded. "We did."

---

Twenty-Nine Years Ago:

It shouldn't have been so easy to kill a general.

The man was retired—had been for the last few years. Project Awakening was the last operation he'd been involved in. Given how heavily the general drank, Caleb wondered if it haunted him. Or maybe the war did. Caleb might have felt sorry for him under normal circumstances. Certainly, he felt bad for Surge, who sometimes still went away behind his eyes whenever a pokémon battle grew heated. But this man—this general—had signed off on experimenting on civilians. Some of them had been soldiers themselves. What had he done if not betray them and everything the badges on his uniform stood for?

By the time Caleb entered the bar, the general was almost through a bottle of whiskey. His face was flushed from it, sweat glistening on his forehead. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt from the Route 17 Bicycle Race, which was snug around his stomach. His hair, no longer cut close to the scalp, had a startling curliness to it, bobbing as he tipped another swig down his throat.

Caleb approached the bar and sat down a couple seats away. He ordered the weakest beer on tap and sipped it slowly, glancing at the general occasionally. Even as inebriated as the man was, he noticed before long.

"Something on your mind, young man?" he asked. His voice was low, but surprisingly coherent, given how much he'd had to drink.

Caleb gave him a bashful smile. "Sorry. I just keep thinking, 'I know that face. I've seen him somewhere before.'"

"Maybe you saw me at the soup kitchen. I'm there every Sunday," the general said.

Caleb knew. He'd considered hitting him there, but there were too many eyes. And too many kids, for that matter. "I don't think that's it."

The general blinked. "Well, if you figure it out…." His eyes began to glaze as he lost himself in his thoughts again.

Caleb snapped his fingers. "The newspaper, a couple of weeks back. 'Retired General Funds New Wing to Cerulean's Pediatric Oncology Center.'"

The general made a face. "Knew I should have made that anonymous."

"That was very generous of you, sir."

"There are so many cancer cases these days. Maybe it will help," the general said.

"Is that why you did it? Because of the statistics?" Caleb asked.

The general turned and peered at Caleb. "You know, you look a bit familiar. You a reporter?"

"Just a grateful citizen," Caleb said, forcing a smile. "Let me buy you a drink."

The general shook his head, still studying Caleb's face. "That's kind of you, but you look like a student. Save your money for your textbooks."

"I insist," Caleb said. He ordered another bottle for the man and poured two glasses, one for each of them. He lifted held one out to the man. "For your service."

The general stared at the glass. The moment that held on too long for Caleb's comfort, making him nauseatingly certain that the general had seen him slip the powder into his drink. Caleb had practiced the sleight of hand for hours, both in front of a mirror and Giovanni, until his expression and the gesture of his wrist were smooth. But maybe he'd screwed it up now that the pressure was on. Maybe the general would yell to the bartender, demanding that he call the police.

Instead, the general reached out with a shaking hand. Was he was going to knock the glass over? Grab a fistful of Caleb's uniform, shake him, and demand to know what he was doing? But instead, the general took the glass, clinked the edge against Caleb's, and drank.

"Aren't you going to drink?" he prompted Caleb, who was staring at him.

"R-right!" Caleb said, forcing another smile. He drank and immediately started coughing as the whiskey seared down his throat, making his eyes and nose water.

The general thumped him on the back. "A little strong for you?"

"It—it's more than I'm used to," Caleb admitted, wiping the sweat beading on his forehead.

"Best to take it slow," the general advised. He lifted his glass again and drained it. "Why don't you tell me about yourself? What are you studying?"

The poison he'd picked was a slower one, since he hadn't wanted to bolt from the bar and draw attention to himself. He had time to humor this man. "I'm dual-majoring. Economies and Romance Languages. I already know Italian and English, but I thought I'd learn some Spanish. And French. It's like trying to talk through a mouthful of marbles." The alcohol was hitting him now, making him ramble and his tongue feel numb. "I want to help with trading between the Leagues after I graduate. Do some translating, some accounting. See the world while I'm at it."

Caleb had given the same line to his professors when they'd asked. They'd even helped him pick out internships. He doubted they would have been so eager if they'd known what he was using their lessons for. No company ever said no to the auditor, not even League facilities, with their shiny security systems and hired guards. They were all too eager to let him into their back rooms and give him access to their records so he could confirm that their accounts were in order.

"I thought about going into accounting. My father was a banker," the general said.

"Why didn't you?" Caleb asked. The general wouldn't have to die right now if he had.

"I wanted to be a part of something greater," the general said. He frowned. "I was young. And when you're young, you make mistakes."

He met Caleb's eyes as he said it.

Caleb felt a lump form in his throat. He tried to swallow it. "It must have worked out for you, given how much you gave to the hospital."

"That was the last of it," the general said. "Except for what's going to my nieces. And a little bit for things like this," he added, gesturing to the whiskey.

"Decided not to live it up?" Caleb asked.

"Too old for that," the general said, though there was only a little gray in his hair. He blinked, yawned, and stood from his seat. "It's getting late. I think I'll call a cab."

"I can wait with you, if you want?" Caleb suggested. Though perhaps he shouldn't. Perhaps it was time to get out of here. The poison was quiet and easily missed, but if Caleb was found with the man's body….

The general nodded. "That would be nice."

The general made the call. They went to the park across the street to wait. They sat on a bench underneath a cherry tree, which was losing the last of its blooms. The general picked up a petal, rubbed it between his fingers, and lifted it to his nose. He breathed in. "I missed these during the war. I was up in the mountains. There weren't any flowers there. Too cold for it. Too rocky."

"Was it hard?" Caleb asked.

"Mostly it was boring," the general said. "Waiting hours for our orders. Where we would march next—where would we rest—where we would eat the cans of sausages in our packs. And then there was the fighting. It wasn't like what you kids have in the Leagues. That's not fighting. That's just playing. The real thing is ugly. There's no other word for it. And you never really get away from it, even after you're home."

"So why do it?" Caleb asked. His mind went back to the rows of beds, to the smell of antiseptic, to the moans of the sick and the dying around him. That hadn't been a war, but Caleb and his friends had still fought for their lives. And they hadn't all made it home.

"We thought it was right. We thought we were saving our country," the general said. Then he placed his hand over Caleb's. Caleb stared at it, at the lines and scars on the back of it, and then lifted his eyes to meet the general's. Those brown eyes were sad and knowing. There was recognition in them. "We were wrong. You should know that."

Caleb stumbled up and away from him, his vision blurring with sudden tears. "I should go."

"If you want. But no one's coming," the general said. He leaned back against the bench. "I've always loved this park," he said, looking at the trees, at the petals scattered on the walkways, at the fountain with its horsea statue. "I used to play with my starter here. There are worse places to go, I think." He blinked and looked back at Caleb. "I'm surprised it doesn't hurt."

"I didn't want it to," Caleb murmured.

"That was kind of you." The general gave him a rueful smile. "Some of my colleagues haven't been so lucky."

"That wasn't me," Caleb said. "I don't—I don't like doing this. It's not easy."

"It shouldn't be. It never was, for me," the general said.

"You still did it," Caleb said.

"I did," the general agreed. "And there is no making that right. But for what it's worth, Mr. Brennan, I'm sorry. And I hope this—" He gestured to himself. "—brings you some peace. I hope it helps you to move on. Because clinging to your pain will rot your heart. You should allow yourself more than that."

Caleb tasted salt in his mouth. He wiped the tears from his cheeks. "You should be angry. You should call the cops. Or an ambulance. You might still have time—"

"No. If it's not this, it will be something else. Something worse. I'll take this instead," the general said. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Will you tell the others? That I'm sorry?"

"They won't forgive you," Caleb said.

The general nodded, not surprised, and then peered at him through heavy eyelids. "Can you?"

"I—" Caleb didn't know what to say. It was hard to reconcile this man with the one who had ordered the guards to keep them in that room. But he'd done it. He had. "I don't know. How can I?" Should he lie? The general would be dead soon. People told the dying all sorts of things to give them comfort in their final moments, even if they'd been cruel.

"It wouldn't be for me," the general whispered, so low that Caleb barely caught it.

What did that mean? "I don't understand."

But the general didn't say anything else.

Caleb, sick to his stomach, stumbled down the path. Later, it would occur to him to wonder if anyone had seen him leaving. He waited anxiously in his dorm afterwards, expecting an officer to knock on his door. No one did. There was an obituary in the paper a couple of days later, which was surprisingly short, considering the general's war record. But maybe that had been at his request—maybe he hadn't wanted the world to remember his deeds. He'd known that someone was coming, after all. "Keep it brief," he might have said in his will. "Best not to dwell on the past."

Caleb spent the next two weeks in a haze, unable to focus on his studies. He kept imagining himself back at that park, especially when he walked around campus, which was fragrant with cherry blossoms. At times he had to sit down and catch his breath, though he never sat on a bench. He couldn't understand why this time had been so much harder on him. The general hadn't been his first kill, or his second or the third, either. And while those times hadn't been easy, they hadn't left him feeling this sick.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked him. "Do you need a bag? Or maybe a bucket?"

He looked up through his sweat-soaked bangs. A girl from his French class stood there, holding out a napkin from her bagged lunch. Whatever was inside of it had left grease stains on the paper, though the napkin looked clean. He took it and moped his face, trying to remember her name. It started with an S, didn't it? Serena—no, Selena. She was terrible at French, though she kept trying and threw paper balls at anyone who made fun of her accent. Caleb had been hit by the ricochet more than once. It took all of his willpower not to laugh when it happened.

"I just need a moment," he told her.

"Are you sure? Because you've been like this for a week," she said. She gestured to the patch of lawn next to him. "Mind if I join you?"

"Wh—no. Go ahead." After she made herself comfortable, he added, "Aren't you worried I might be contagious?"

"I've had my flu shot," she said. She fished out a fry from her bag and held it out to him. "Want some?"

His stomach, even though it was in knots, grumbled feebly. "Maybe a couple," he said, not sure if he'd be able to keep them down. Might as well try, though. He nibbled at them, the sharpness of the salt cutting through some of the fog he was in. "Thanks."

"Potatoes fix everything," Selena said, continuing to munch on her fries. They sat in silence for a few minutes, making their way to the bottom of the bag. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What?"

"Whatever it is. Unless you do have the flu?" she asked. "Because if you do, you can use the toilet in my dorm."

"I have one in mine?" Caleb said, confused.

"Mine is nicer," Selena said. "And I have a bean bag chair."

"Aren't those for kids?"

"Not if I use it, it's not," she replied. She stood and offered him a hand. "Come on. There's ice cream, too."

He stared at her hand. "Fries and ice cream sound like a terrible combination. And we have class in ten minutes."

She blinked at him, seeming thrown for a second, then said, "Okay, first of all, that's heresy. Second of all, all we're doing today is listening to recordings of French poetry, so I'm pretty sure we can skip that. And third, I'm inviting you to my dorm. To relax," she said slowly.

It took Caleb an embarrassingly long time to figure out what she meant. "Oh."

"Oh, he says." She smiled, though there was a hint of worry in her eyes. She looked away from him, her cheeks pink. "No pressure, of course. I just have this fantasy of nursing a hot guy back to health. But if that's not something you're interested in—"

He took her hand. "No, it—it sounds nice. I just…I prefer to take things slow. If that's okay?" His heart was pounding in his chest. It occurred to him that he hadn't felt this present in his own body for weeks now. Maybe even longer than that.

Her smile widened, relief passing over her face. "Yeah. I'm okay with that." She helped pull him up.

They went to her room. It was tiny, like all the single dorms were, but the promised ice cream was delicious, the bean bag was welcoming, and Selena did actually tend to him. "You thought I was kidding, didn't you?" she said as she ran a hot towel over his face. She reached for the comb next, gently working the tangles out of his dark hair.

"A little bit," he admitted. But this was…nice. Really nice. How long had it been since he'd let someone touch him like this?

Then he remembered the general's hand over his and his stomach turned over.

"Whoa. You just got really pale. Should I stop?" she asked, pulling her hands back.

"It's not—no. It's fine. It's not you," he said. "I just…had a rough day the other week."

She slowly went back to brushing his hair. "Can I ask what happened?"

What could he tell her? Not that he'd killed someone, certainly. "Someone I knew died. I was there when he went."

"Oh." She took his hand. She didn't seem to mind how sweaty it was. "I'm sorry. Were you close?"

"No," Caleb said. "He—" He struggled to think of how to explain it. "He hurt me. When I was younger. And a couple of my friends. It—it wasn't sexual or anything like that—"

"You don't have to explain what it was," she said.

He swallowed hard. "Right. Well. He felt bad for it. Said he was sorry. Wanted to know if we could forgive him. If I could."

She squeezed his hand. "And what did you say?"

"I—" His chest was tight. "I said I didn't know."

"That's fair. You don't have to," she said.

"He said it wouldn't be for him," Caleb said. "Even though he was asking for it."

"Oh." She considered that for a moment, stroking his knuckles with her thumb. It felt good. Grounding. "Then it would have to be for you, wouldn't it?"

"The forgiveness?"

She nodded, brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. "I don't know the details of what happened, but I've heard people say that forgiveness isn't really for the person who hurt you. It's more about you letting go of the pain so you don't have to keep carrying it."

Caleb considered that. "I…don't know if I can do that. It's such a big part of me."

"It doesn't have to be all of you, though. Or even most of you." Selena reached up and stroked his hair. "I don't think you have to decide on anything right away, though. It's just something to think about."

"You're probably right," he said. He took the hand that was running through his hair and held it. "Do you do this a lot? Try to heal wounded boys?"

"Wounded men, actually. And only hot ones," she said with a teasing smile.

"So what number does that make me?" he asked, giving her a tentative smile back.

"That's third date talk. Maybe fourth date talk," she said.

"So three more, then, if this is a date," Caleb said.

She lifted an eyebrow. "Is it?"

"Seems like it. You fed me fries and ice cream. And brushed my hair."

"Sounds like you're easy to please."

"Pretty sure that's not a bad thing."

Her smile widened. "Good point." She looked over at the shelf above her bed, which had a few books from their French class and colorful VHS tapes. "We could study a bit. Or watch a movie. I have some good ones."

"We could talk some more, too. I don't know much about you," Caleb realized. "Except that you don't put up with bullies. And you're a good listener. And you aren't afraid to tell a guy what you want."

"So the important things, then," she said lightly.

He couldn't tell if that was a deflection or not. "Really, I want to know more, even if it's something silly."

"Hmmm." She got up, thinking about that and looking through her movies. She picked out one with an adventurer with a whip on the front cover. "Something silly…." She went and put the tape into the TV's VHS player, then sat in front of the bean bag and leaned back against his legs. A trailer began to play on the screen for a science fiction film with swords.

"I'm going to have to wait the whole movie for it, aren't I?" Caleb asked. He supposed that was fair. She hadn't pushed him. He shouldn't push her.

"You're going to think I'm kidding," she said.

"Try me." He'd been part of a human experiment trial to give him superpowers. He was pretty sure nothing she could say would shock him.

She tilted her head back to look at him, the light from the television flickering in her pale eyes. "I might be a bit psychic."

He blinked. "Really?" There were psychic humans, of course. Part of the point of Project Awakening had been to make more of them. It seemed a waste, considering there were psychics out there who probably would have been willing to help keep their country safe. But when he thought of the general again and imagined him giving orders to a younger Selena, it sat ill in his gut.

Selena looked embarrassed. "Yeah. It's fine if you don't believe me. But sometimes I feel what other people are feeling." She touched her chest with a frown. "Usually I can ignore it, but sometimes specific emotions stand out. Anger. Fear. Sadness. You've been feeling that a lot recently," she said.

His heart thudded in his chest. "Is that why you reached out?"

"Partially. I'd been interested for a while. Couldn't quite get up the nerve to say something. But then—well, I thought if I was feeling that bad, I'd want someone to check on me. I'd want to know I wasn't alone," she said.

Tears stung in his eyes. Something in his chest cracked open like a scab. He shifted so he could put his arms around her shoulders to hug her. She was warm. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair, his breath hitching. She smelled like vanilla and brown sugar.

She put her hand on his arms and leaned back into him. "You're welcome," she said, not looking at him in case he didn't want her to see him cry.

He appreciated that. It took him a while to regain his composure. He tried not to feel embarrassed, but there was something so exposing about crying in front of someone. It was more intimate than sex, in a way, because it was his heart he was laying bare, rather than his body. But Selena didn't judge him for it. She just kept holding him. When he quieted, she handed him the damp towel, now cool, for his face.

"Weird first date," he said, trying to laugh it off.

"I've had weirder," she said, looking back at him and studying his face. Seeing if he was really alright.

"You'll have to tell me about that sometime."

"That's definitely fifth date talk."

"I'm looking forward to it," he said, with a weak but genuine smile.

Selena smiled back. He would later think it was one of the best things in the world, her smile. She pushed herself up and nudged him. "Move over. If we squeeze in tight, there should be room enough for two on that beanbag."

They managed it, just barely, and spent the next several hours watching all five of her corny movies.

---

Now:

"I need some air," Cassandra said. Her face, neck, and ears were hot. Her palms were slick on the table. She rubbed them on her jeans as she stood up.

"Cass—" Caleb tried to say.

She walked out. No one followed her. She went down the hall to the telephones. The trainers there gave her space, then left when she glanced at them. She wondered if she was emanating an aura like Mewtwo did when he was pissed, or like the ghosts of the Tower did when they wanted to spook visitors away from the graves. Maybe she just looked angry, though. She was angry right now, wasn't she?

She considered calling Rose, but then decided to call the house. Anastasia picked up. Her eyebrow lifted a fraction on the video call. Cassandra's voice was rough as she said, "Can you put Mewtwo on?"

"One second," Ana said, and vanished from view.

After a moment, Mewtwo, in his human guise, stepped in front of the camera. He cradled the phone against his ear and his violet eyes assessed her. "You look terrible," he said.

"Thanks," she drawled. "Just what I wanted to hear."

"I take it the conversation is going well?" he asked. His voice had the dry humor she was pretty sure he'd learned from her.

It made her smile, if weakly. "He's recounting the story of his life—" Mewtwo sighed, which she appreciated. "—and I guess there was an experiment? It affected his genes, which is where my wings come from. Kind of like what happened in that terrible Hulk movie?"

Mewtwo blinked. "Wasn't the Hulk the green one with the rage issues?"

"I mean half of that fits, doesn't it? Though I don't think that part is genetic, that's more how we were raised?"

He nodded, looking lost in thought. "Team Rocket has been no stranger to genetic experiments, so I suppose this explains—"

"Well, it wasn't them, exactly? It was a partnership they had with the military…." She trailed off. There was a lot to explain.

"This sounds complicated," he said.

"Stupidly so," Cassandra said.

"Why is he telling you this? Did you ask about the circumstances behind your birth?"

"I think he wants me to understand him," Cassandra said. "Though we're maybe, I don't know, halfway through? He just told me about how he met my mother…."

"I see." He looked at something off to the side—probably into the living room of the house, given the angle. "And that upset you," he guessed.

"I…." That was what this was, wasn't it? This heat in her face, the way she was sweating, the way she could feel her heart thumping in her throat. "I don't know much about her. Or her family. And…." She'd been getting therapy for years now. She was so much better at parsing her emotions. But this was still hard for her to pull apart. "Maybe I could have had more time with her if he'd been there. And now the only way I'll know more is by talking to him, and I don't want to."

He considered that. "I wish I had impartial advice to give you. But it is hard for me to look at him and not see my own mistakes. I also never had parents. The closest I had were my creators, who sought to use me, and Giovanni, who managed what they could not. But that is not the same as what you are going through now. So I am not certain what to suggest."

That was…surprisingly self-aware of him. It still rankled to hear him at a loss, though, probably because of how adrift she felt. "I don't need your advice," she said, sharper than she meant to.

He noticed, but he didn't comment on it. "Then what do you need? If you want me there, I'll go to you. If you want an embrace, I'll give you one. If you want me to incinerate him, I will."

"Tempting, but I should probably hear him out first."

He tilted his head, very slightly. "So you called because you needed someone to listen?"

"I—" Yes? Was that surprising? "Aren't we friends?"

He looked slightly sad as he said, "I think only you can answer that question."

Fuck, she really had shaken him if he was doubting that. "Mewtwo, I—"

Off screen, there was a crashing noise. His head jerked as he looked towards it.

"What was that?" she asked, alarm jolting through her stomach.

He shook his head. "Nothing serious. The children flung their pencil box to the floor."

Considering how many crayons and colored pencils were stuffed in there, she wasn't surprised it had made that racket. "They are half-cat," Cassandra reminded him.

"I never pushed items off of flat surfaces," Mewtwo said in what almost sounded like a pout.

"Bet you would if you were annoyed enough at them," Cassandra said.

"I do not see how an item could inspire that kind of ire," he said.

"Said by someone who has never tried to update their phone when their wifi is on the fritz," Cassandra said.

He squinted at her. "Is that something I need to acquire?"

"To be convincingly human? Or to at least get a job? Probably."

He made a face. "Ah yes. A job. To acquire money. Even though money is nothing more than a human construct. You ascribe symbolic value to chips of metal and slips of paper and then exchange them for what you need to survive."

"Kanto is better about that," Cassandra pointed out. "Since most of our health care and utilities are socialized. It's mostly specialty goods that cost a lot."

"It is still ridiculous," Mewtwo said.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," Cassandra said. "I can ask Sabrina about a job for you if you want? She hires a lot of psychics for her gym-school combo thing. It's not running right now, but after the war I'm sure it will be."

"Would that not qualify as nepotism?" Mewtwo asked.

"Yes, but then we could avoid the awkward questions like, 'Where is your birth certificate and can you prove that you can be employed in this country?'" she said.

"You could forge those," Mewtwo pointed out.

"But that's so much work! And I'm not supposed to break the law anymore. I live with a cop," Cassandra said.

"He wouldn't make an exception for me? Is he not an immigrant from the Orange Islands? Surely he has some sympathy for those who come here to make a better life for themselves," Mewtwo said. "Though New Island is a territory of Kanto, so technically, I am a natural citizen. Is it truly a forgery if it is giving me what I should already have?"

"Oh my god," Cassandra said, a little stunned by the turn this conversation had taken.

"What?"

"This is the most boring conversation we've ever had. It has to be. We're talking about job requirements," Cassandra said.

"To be fair, we are also discussing forging some of those requirements," Mewtwo said. "So it cannot be said that we are completely lacking in...mischief?"

"Wow. We've gone from being trained killers to imps. I think we've downgraded," she said.

He shook his head. "We simply want a softer life together. Perhaps that might be boring to some, but I will not take the opportunity for granted. And unless the war ends tomorrow, we will likely need to use our training for a while longer, anyway. Then we can rest."

"By rest, I hope you don't mean taking a dirt nap," she said.

"Of course not. Those are for our enemies," Mewtwo said. "We will have a mattress with quilts and pillows. Unless we decide to camp, which…may have to be in a few years. I am tired of waking up and needing to check myself for ticks each morning."

"You poor thing."

"Lyme's disease is no joking matter," he grouched.

"Yeah, we're definitely boring now," Cassandra said, but she was smiling.

He smiled back, then glanced off to the side. "Maya is attempting to get my attention. Do you feel well enough to return to your interrogation?"

She did feel better now, actually. She nodded. "Yeah. You go watch the gremlins."

"We may watch a movie of the same name later," Mewtwo said.

"Wait for me. That's the scariest movie I've ever seen," Cassandra said.

"You must be joking. It's rated for children to watch," Mewtwo said.

"You'll see what I mean," Cassandra warned him.

"I suppose I will. I will see you later, dove," Mewtwo said.

"See you," she said, hanging up.

When she returned to the interrogation room, Michael appeared to be seething. "So you've confessed to murdering at least one high-ranking officer—"

"He was retired, but do go on," Caleb said dryly.

"Alright. A private citizen, then. I fail to see how that makes it better—"

"What are you going to do about it? Arrest me? Where would you even put me? This town doesn't have a jail—"

"We have a drunk tank—"

"Ah yes, so very secure. It's not like I learned how to pick locks by the time I was ten—"

"Stop it, both of you." Cassandra snapped at them. "We don't have time for this. Michael, you were lenient with me because I gave you information. He's doing the same thing. And it's not like the prisons are running properly anymore, so there's no point in arresting him. As for you—" She glowered at Caleb. "You should know better than to poke at the person with the gun."

Caleb inclined his head towards Florian. "I have force field protection."

"And ricochet doesn't give a shit about the rest of us," Cassandra said. She sat down at the table and took a long swig of her coffee. It had long since gone cold. "Alright. So you met my mom in college. Obviously that went well, because I'm here. Did you ever tell her about the shit you were involved with or did you leave that out?" She seemed to remember that her mother and Giovanni had talked on occasion. That suggested that Selena had known what she was getting herself into, but the finer details had never been clear to her.

"I did, about a year in," Caleb said. "She…didn't take it well." He winced at the memory. "We argued about it. She left to stay with her family for a while. She didn't tell them the details, just that we were fighting about my job. After a few weeks, she came back. She said she could deal with what I'd done. She understood why. But that she didn't want that to be what our lives were. As soon as I could see a way out, she made me promise to take it."

"So you lied to her," Cassandra assessed. He'd supposedly been killed on a mission for Giovanni, after all. It didn't sound like he'd tried very hard to get out of Team Rocket.

Caleb's eyes flashed. For the first time in their conversation, he looked genuinely angry. "You of all people know how hard it is to step away from that life. And from Giovanni."

A small part of her was stung, because there was truth to what he said. But most of her refused to be shamed by him. She'd managed to break free from Giovanni at nineteen and he'd had a much tighter leash on her than he'd had on Caleb. Caleb, from the sound of it, had been someone Giovanni had seen as an equal. Since when had Giovanni ever seen her as more than a child or a tool? Besides, if it wasn't for Caleb making the choices he had, she wouldn't have had that life to begin with.

"It wasn't like Giovanni was holding a gun to your head to stay with him," Cassandra said. Giovanni had with her at the end of the day. She'd spent years trying to convince herself that he wouldn't pull the trigger—that she was special and irreplaceable to him. He'd said that she was. Maybe he'd even believed it. But it had still been a lie all the same once she hadn't chosen him.

Caleb closed his eyes. The lines of his face deepened with pain. Florian winced. Cassandra wouldn't let herself feel pity for Caleb, though. "Maybe not. But friendship is still binding. So is brotherhood. And even when you know it's souring, you stay in it longer than you should. You keep hoping that things will get better—that it will go back to what you remember." He stared down at the half-finished remains of his muffin. "Especially when you get glimmers of the person he used to be."

"Okay," Cassandra said, mostly just to prompt him. "But you still made a promise to my mom."

"And I did my best to keep it," Caleb protested. "I asked Giovanni so many times when it would be enough. When we had done enough to honor Nadia. But there was always more we needed to do. It wasn't enough to just get rid of the people responsible for what had happened. What about the scientists? Where had their research gone? Were they going to test it on other people? Had they shared it with anyone else? Would any of them come after us for what we had done? And what about what his mother was doing? She hadn't stopped digging her claws into things. If super-soldiers were a bust, then what about traditional ones? There were legendary pokémon out there somewhere. If she captured some of them, then she would suddenly have much more power and wealth, depending on how she decided to use them."

"And what did she want to use them for? Did you ever find out?" Michael asked, sounding less irate than he had earlier. He was jotting down notes. Some of them looked like angry doodles, admittedly, but there were words written around them.

Caleb's brow furrowed. "She never made a big speech about wanting to rule the world, if that's what you're asking. It wouldn't surprise me if that was her end goal, though. She liked running her business and liked the control it gave her. But she seemed to be taking the long way around? Getting in good with the current powers that be, gathering blackmail material on all of them, keeping a registry on who bought which rare pokémon from her auction houses, while keeping the strongest ones for her elite. She never had any pokémon of her own, which always struck me as odd. Maybe she had a bad encounter with one when she was younger?" He shrugged. "I never learned those kinds of things about her, but given how she treated Giovanni, it wouldn't surprise me if she'd had some rough experiences when she was growing up. People that tightly wound usually get that way because someone had a tight grip on them at some point, and they never want to feel that helpless again.

"Not that I ever felt sorry for her," Caleb added. "Not after what she'd done. At the end of the day, she wanted to leave her mark on the world and make Team Rocket a gang everyone feared. She hurt and killed people to do it. And after she died, Giovanni took up her torch."

"Did he kill her?" Cassandra asked. Knowing Giovanni, that seemed likely.

Caleb nodded. "Once he'd learned all he could from her. She always was high on his list."

"You didn't help him?" Cassandra asked.

"I would have if he'd asked. But I was busy at the time."

"With?"

"You. We were expecting you by then," Caleb said with a soft, sad smile.

---

Twenty-Five Years Ago:

There was something wrong with the baby.

The doctor hadn't used those exact words, but his meaning had been clear. His tone had been gentle as he'd sat down with them, ultrasounds on the table between them, and explained that there were signs of spinal deformity. It was too soon to tell how it would affect their child, but it was possible that it would cause her pain and might require surgery to fix, if it could be fixed at all. They would need to keep a careful eye on it and reassess their options as Selena's pregnancy progressed and they ran more tests.

"She doesn't feel wrong," Selena said from the passenger seat as he drove them home.

"It might be from me," he told her. "From what happened. This could be my fault." He couldn't get that thought out of his head. His hands were tight around the steering wheel, so much so that his knuckles were white from it.

She put her hand over his. Her wedding band glinted red from the glow of the stop light. "It's not. It's not like you put yourself through that."

"But I should have known this could happen. Thought about it before we—"

"I'm pretty sure we would have rolled the dice anyway," Selena said. She tilted her head back into her headrest. "I guess I should be relieved that we have really, really good medical benefits from your life of crime."

Caleb felt a pang of guilt. "Once he knows that we're expecting and that—that we have things we need to keep an eye on—he'll understand that it's time. He can't keep making excuses. This is too important."

"You've been saying that since we got married," she reminded him tiredly, in a voice that suggested that she didn't really want to argue about it.

"We're having a kid. It's different," Caleb insisted.

"It's not me you need to convince, Cal," she said.

After he dropped her off at their home—a nice, three-bedroom house with a sizable yard, where she was trying and failing to grow tomatoes—he made his way to Giovanni's manor. As he drove, he kept rehearsing what he was going to say. "I have a daughter on the way. I can't keep risking my life on missions, but I can start training a replacement. There's that recruit from Pewter. He seems eager to have more responsibilities, so how about him? It's not like I had any formal training, so it shouldn't take long to teach him. You have plenty of other agents now, with plenty of skills I don't have, and we—we'll still be friends. I'm not really going anywhere. I just need to look after my wife and child. You understand, don't you? You have to understand."

When had he begun to doubt that?

It had been little things, he'd later think. The pause before Giovanni had smiled when Caleb had told him about dating Selena. His questions about whether she could be trusted with their secrets, when Caleb told him he couldn't keep lying to her. "What if you're wrong about her? What if she goes to the police? I'd break you out of prison, of course, but you'd be a fugitive afterwards. Are you prepared for that?"

Caleb had thought that Giovanni was being protective at the time. There had even been a tinge of relief on Giovanni's face when it had looked like Selena might not come back. "I'll protect you," Giovanni had promised, rubbing Caleb's back as he struggled not to cry. "If she does tell someone, I'll take care of it."

Caleb had protested, given what he knew about Giovanni's methods. "I don't want anyone to hurt her," he'd said.

"Even though she's hurting you?" Giovanni asked.

That had sat ill in Caleb's gut. "Of course not! Why would I—even if she won't take me back, I still love her."

"You say that like you did something wrong. She should be thanking you. The brass wouldn't have left her alone if they found out she was psychic. The only reason they didn't go after that girl in Saffron was because she was too powerful for them to handle. Selena wouldn't have stood a chance."

Maybe there was some truth to that, but Caleb didn't like how Giovanni was talking about her. He also remembered the general and how resigned he'd been to his death. Had that been right? "She didn't ask for this. She's not like us. She's a civilian," Caleb said. She wasn't a criminal. She wasn't a victim. She wasn't a killer. She wasn't damaged. There were so many words for what they were, but he didn't think Giovanni would want to hear any of them.

"Which is why this was always going to be a challenge for you two in the long run. You're very different people. You come from different worlds."

"If this is your pep talk, it sucks," Caleb bit out.

Giovanni winced. "You know what I mean. Someone from our organization wouldn't judge you. And they understand discretion."

"She's not going to rat me out. I don't think she wants me to get hurt, even if she is pissed at me," Caleb said.

"And what if you're wrong? Do you have a backup plan?" Giovanni asked.

Caleb didn't, but he didn't like how stuck Giovanni was on the idea that Selena was going to betray him. "It won't come to that."

Giovanni hadn't looked convinced. Worse, he'd seemed disappointed to be proven wrong. But Caleb had thought he'd gotten over it. He'd congratulated Caleb on finding someone who accepted him, warts and all. He agreed to meet with Selena and answer her questions about Team Rocket. He'd joked about making a timeshare with her for Caleb. Selena hadn't been enthused about any of it. "I think he's worried you're going to leave him," she told Caleb later.

Things had gone better over the next few years, as Giovanni split his time between running the Viridian Gym and overseeing different units in Team Rocket. They'd finished their degrees by then and were paying property taxes, looking to the outside world like a proper, law-abiding citizens. It helped that Madame Maki's and her second-in-command, Miyamoto, were focusing on a project in South America. They were searching for the phantom pokémon, Mew. ("They're welcome to it. Gets them out of my hair," Giovanni had told him, scowling at his pile of paperwork. Caleb had heard him listening to the recording of the pokémon through the door to his office many times, though.) They were less concerned about domestic affairs, so those responsibilities had fallen onto Giovanni's shoulders. He didn't mind. He'd been making his own hires and earmarking a few to be his lieutenants. Caleb had met many of them already.

When Caleb and Selena had married, it had been Giovanni who'd insisted on making it a lavish affair. He'd even paid for their honeymoon trip to Alola afterwards. "You deserve it," Giovanni had insisted. Caleb had wondered, though, if he was trying to make up for not being supportive of their relationship early on.

Selena had voiced the same thought and then hesitantly asked, "Are we going to owe him for this?"

"I don't think it's like that," Caleb had told her. Giovanni just liked making big gestures. He always had. He was a showman at heart, both in the arena and outside of it.

As Caleb pulled up to the manor, the folder of ultrasounds on the car seat next to him, he wondered what Giovanni would do now. Probably bring in specialists for spinal surgeries. Maybe throw them an overly elaborate baby shower if things started looking more optimistic. He thought Selena's sister might like to be in charge of that, though. If she was willing to make the trip. She hadn't been happy about Selena not moving back to Galar. But a baby would change things. Babies had a way of shifting the priorities of the adults around them.

"I can't keep going on missions," Caleb rehearsed under his breath. "I need to put my family first."

He went inside. Giovanni wasn't in his study, which was odd. He was usually there when he wasn't at the gym. Maybe he was getting some more coffee in the kitchen? He went through three pots a day during tax season. When he checked, though, Giovanni wasn't there, either, despite the full coffee pot. It hissed as the condensation from the steam hit the burner. Caleb flipped the switch for the heat off, poured the coffee into the biggest mug he could find, and stirred in raw sugar and cream. Giovanni drank his coffee black when he was in a hurry, but maybe sweetening it the way he liked would put him in a good mood.

Caleb headed towards the bedrooms, wondering if Giovanni might be taking a midday nap for once. If so, good for him. For someone from a well-off family, he worked too hard. Caleb understood why, but there was a reason Giovanni was starting to have a widow's peak and the experiment wasn't it. At least not entirely.

When he neared the door to Giovanni's bedroom, though, he paused at the sounds coming from it. Heat creeped up his neck. Caleb wasn't a prude, but he also wasn't comfortable hearing his best friend carrying on like that. Sure, he'd overheard Giovanni and Nadia making out and then some when they'd thought he was asleep, but they'd been trying to keep it quiet. Apparently, Giovanni had shed that scruple. That…might be a good thing? This might be a good thing? Even if the idea grated at the back of Caleb's mind, he knew that Giovanni should be trying to move on from Nadia. It had been years. And well, maybe catching him after this would make him more amenable to what Caleb was going to ask?

Caleb walked as quickly and quietly as he could to the nearby library. He would be able to see whoever came out of the room from here. It took longer than he expected. The coffee had cooled by the time the door opened. He startled at the sight of the woman who stepped out, smoothing her dress. Her hair was a familiar, vibrant red. For a split second, Caleb rocked back, feeling vertigo. Nadia? he thought, but then he looked closer. The curves of her chin and ears were different and her eyes were stony gray. Natasha? When she spotted him, she scowled—yeah, that was her. She reopened the door, said something to Giovanni, then closed the door and walked down the hall. When she passed the library, she lifted her chin, as if daring Caleb to say something. Caleb didn't.

After a minute, Giovanni emerged and joined him in the library, with only the pink flush on his cheeks showing that he'd been exerting himself. "Thanks," Giovanni said, taking the coffee from the table and gulping down half of it. As he set down the mug, he said, "You could have called. I would have had lunch ready." He didn't sound embarrassed at being caught with Natasha, just mildly annoyed.

Caleb wanted to say something polite, like maybe an apology for not calling ahead, but when he opened his mouth, he blurted, "You're fucking Nadia's sister?"

Giovanni's brow furrowed and his cheeks went redder. He made a grunting, discontent noise in the back of his throat. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Caleb was glad that he was sitting down, because the vertigo was back. A small part of his brain thought, What, you're the only one who gets to criticize someone's choice in partner? He didn't say that, though. Instead, he said, "It just seems a little incestuous?"

Giovanni looked bewildered. "We're not related."

"You know what I mean. She would have been your sister-in-law," Caleb said.

Giovanni's scowl grew fiercer. "But she's not."

"No, really, what the fuck? Tell me this isn't a weird replacement goldeen situation. Nadia would kick your ass for doing that to her little sister—"

"She's not little anymore. She's a grown adult and can make her own choices," Giovanni said. "And not that I need to explain myself to you, but we talked after the funeral. We both missed her and have a lot in common. Family expectations. Business plans. Interest in the research coming out of Cinnabar. And she's been keeping an eye on Miyamoto's reports, which has been helpful."

"She sounds more like a business partner than a lover," Caleb noted.

"I don't see why she can't be both," Giovanni said. "Marriages are mostly economical arrangements anyway."

Caleb's eyebrows shot up. "You're getting married?" That was out of fucking nowhere.

Giovanni made a dismissive hand gesture. "Maybe. It would make our families happy."

"What about you? Are you happy?" Caleb asked.

Giovanni frowned. "We're satisfied. We both know what we're getting out of this and what we're not. Neither of us are expecting this to turn into a whirlwind romance." He drank more of his coffee, as if to get a sour taste out of his mouth. "I've already had that and she—it's not something she's interested in. Flowers and poetry and sweet nothings make her uncomfortable."

Caleb wondered if Giovanni had tried that—maybe out of a feeling of obligation, rather than because he wanted to charm her—but had been shot down. "So you're settling," he assessed.

Giovanni glowered at him. "You don't have to understand it to accept it." As if Giovanni had accepted Caleb's own choices so easily. Before Caleb could decide whether he wanted to point that out or not, though, Giovanni barreled on. "Was there something you came here for?"

Great. Caleb had wanted Giovanni to be in a much better mood for this conversation. Giovanni was glaring at him expectantly, though, so he said, "Selena's pregnant."

Giovanni's face transformed, shifting from anger to surprise to what looked like a genuine smile. "Is she really?"

"We just got the first ultrasounds done. The little bean is definitely there," Caleb said.

Giovanni considered that. "So you've known for a while."

"A few months. We wanted to get through the first trimester before we said anything. It's a delicate time," he said, parroting what Selena had told him.

"So it's going well, then?" Giovanni asked.

And there it was. "It…there are…the doctor found some abnormalities. With her spine."

Giovanni's face went carefully blank, the way it did when he was trying to hide that he was upset. "I'm sorry. What are you planning to do? I could find you someone discreet if you need it."

Caleb shook his head. "If the news gets worse, we might consider that. For now, we're just going to see how it goes." He pushed the folder on the table towards Giovanni. "Here. Have a look."

Giovanni opened it and stared at the ultrasounds. "How can you tell that there's anything wrong?"

Caleb pointed out the bumps the doctor had indicated. "That curve should be smooth."

Giovanni nodded, then lifted his gaze to meet Caleb's. "Have you considered that this might be related to—?" His voice lowered at the end of the sentence.

Caleb nodded. "It's possible, right?"

Giovanni considered the scans again, then snapped the folder shut and handed it back to Caleb. "Keep me updated. And don't tell anyone else about this. I don't want word getting back to my mother."

Caleb's eyebrows rose. "You're worried she'll do something?"

"She's already done something," Giovanni reminded him. "She'll do more if she thinks she has something to gain from it."

"My kid's probably just deformed, not superhuman," Caleb said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"That won't stop her from wanting to see what makes it tick," Giovanni said darkly. He stared down the hall, deeper into the house. "We won't let it come to that, though."

That "we"…god, he hadn't even said what he'd come to say yet. "Giovanni, if—if my kid does need help—I'm going to have to be there for her. Full-time."

Giovanni blinked. "If it comes to that, we'll discuss it then."

"But—" Caleb tried to argue.

Footsteps hurried down the hall. Natasha reappeared, out of breath. "Giovanni. Sorry to interrupt this whole—" She made a gesture between Caleb and him. "—but your mother just called. Miyamoto's missing. Her last transmission—" Natasha's face scrunched strangely, as if she was struggling to know which expression to make. "She was on a mountain, following a mew, before her feed cut out. They think it might have been an avalanche."

Caleb didn't know Miyamoto well—he'd mostly seen her in passing—but his stomach sank all the same. Miyamoto was important to Madame Maki. She was her second-in-command and a close friend. He'd once overheard them in the parlor, drinking and playing cards and complaining about their children running them ragged, even though Giovanni was an adult by then. Miyamoto's daughter was much younger, probably less than ten years old. What would happen to her if her mother was dead? Was the father in the picture? Or would someone else need to take her in—

"We've been trying to reach her, but she's not answering. It could be that her equipment is damaged or—"

"Or she's dead," Giovanni said. He looked like he was making some mental calculations. "We'll have to send someone to try and find her. Or whatever's left of her." It was a cold thing to say, but Giovanni had never been close to Miyamoto.

"Will the Team there put up a fuss about us sending in a search party?" Caleb asked. Miyamoto hadn't clashed with them, either due to bribery or Miyamoto just being that good at staying undercover. That or the Team had counted on the wilderness to take care of her for them.

Giovanni thought it over. "We'll do it above board. Contact local rescue services. They'll know what to look for. Climbers go missing in those mountains all the time."

"Your mother will want us to do more than that," Caleb reminded him.

"We'll send a few agents to assist. Discreet ones," Giovanni said.

"It would be simpler if there wasn't a Team there at all," Natasha pointed out. "Then we could send in as many people as we needed to get the job done."

"We don't know their exact numbers. We can't risk starting a war with them without that information," Caleb argued.

She shrugged. "We have thugs. What are they for if not to thin the field?"

"Team morale is going to be bad enough when it gets out that Miyamoto is missing. Do you really think throwing more bodies at the problem will make it better?" Caleb asked.

He hadn't known Natasha well when they were kids, but Nadia had told him stories about her. She'd described her sister as quiet and reserved, but also sweet towards those who broke through her shell. The driven women in front of him didn't seem like that at all. Had Nadia been wrong about her or had Natasha simply grown up to be a very different person? Looking between her and Giovanni, he also had to wonder who was influencing whom. Was she why Giovanni was becoming more ruthless? Was Giovanni making her colder? Both could be true or neither might be. Maybe rising to the top of Team Rocket necessitated learning how to calculate the lives of their allies against what they would gain by spending them.

Did Caleb have that brutal pragmatism in him? Did he need it to survive Team Rocket? The gang's era of simple theft and gambling was being left behind, in favor of something grander and bloodier. Madame Maki had shifted their trajectory, but Caleb had also helped Giovanni step farther down this path. Did he have the right to question what it might take to accomplish their goals? Would it be betraying Giovanni if he did? And what would Giovanni do then?

He cares about me, Caleb thought. We might fight, but he would never do anything to hurt me. We've been friends since we were children. I'll never be someone he'd write off, not like Miyamoto.

But Caleb could imagine Selena's doubts. Love and possession are two different things, she had told him once, as if he hadn't grown up watching Giovanni's parents fight and seen that for himself. But if he left, what was to stop Giovanni from going too far? What was to stop him from feeding their agents to the meat grinder? Madame Maki wouldn't care and it didn't look like Natasha did either. So who would tell him no? Who did that leave but Caleb?

But what if he stops listening to you? The doubt niggled at the back of his brain. He's already started ignoring you. Do you really think you're going to be enough?

But could Caleb afford to back away now, when they were at this crossroads? Miyamoto was gone. Madame Maki had lost her closest ally—no, it was worse than that. She'd sent her on that mission without any backup. They could spin this against her. A few whispers would get the seeds of doubt planted, and if they put pressure in just the right places, it wouldn't be long before those seeds took root. And once she was out of the way, Giovanni would come back to himself. He'd be able to breathe again and then….

Then Caleb would know what to do.

Natasha opened her mouth to say something else, but Giovanni spoke first, "We can discuss our next steps in Guyana later. For now, we need to focus on retrieval and make sure this doesn't cause any infighting. Natasha, call a meeting with the elites and brief them on the situation. See if any of them want to volunteer to find Miyamoto. Caleb, you're with me." He began to march in the direction of the wing Madame Maki resided in when she wasn't terrorizing her minions.

Natasha nodded and peeled away from them. She was a loyal agent if nothing else. With some trepidation, Caleb followed Giovanni. He didn't want to face Madame Maki, but then, when did he ever want to be in the same room as her? "How are you going to break the news to her?"

"She probably already knows. She'll be livid. She might even throw something," Giovanni said, not sounding concerned about the possibility. "But it's important to make an appearance and offer condolences. Otherwise she'll think we're celebrating Miyamoto's fall and making schemes against her."

"Aren't we?" Caleb said quietly, remembering the promise they'd made after Nadia's murder. Was this, he wondered, what she would have wanted for them?

Giovanni shook his head. "My mother will need someone to take Miyamoto's place. It should be me. The other executives don't have the stones for it." Giovanni paused and met Caleb's eyes. "They're going to want me out of the way. I'll need you to guard my back. Can you do that?"

Caleb swallowed heavily. This conversation was supposed to ease him out of the gang, not pull him deeper in. "My family—"

"Is my family. I'll keep them safe and make sure you have whatever you need to care for your child," Giovanni said. "But if we hesitate now, it might be years before we get another chance. My mother will keep spinning her webs, the brass will break more people, and the League—I haven't even told you half of what they get up to. No, we need to press this advantage while we can."

"And if I die taking out another official?" Caleb asked, frustrated.

"You're not going to die," Giovanni said firmly. "I'll assign you to a research division. Keep you out of the field so you can respond to threats closer to home. Selena can't be pissed if I put you on a desk job, can she?"

Giovanni said the last comment lightly, but there was enough bitterness in it to sting. "She has the right to be angry! She didn't sign up for this."

"She knew what she was getting into when she married you." Giovanni argued. "Just because she has buyer's regret—"

Oh fuck you. "We're not having this conversation," Caleb spat.

"Maybe we should," Giovanni said hotly. "Maybe—"

"If you don't learn how to share me, you're not going to like the choice I make," Caleb said.

They stopped walking. Giovanni stared at him, affronted, and Caleb found he didn't care. "Are you threatening to walk?" Giovanni asked.

"I wouldn't have to if you'd stop being such a petty bitch about my wife," Caleb said. Fine, they could have it out here, even though this was the stupidest time for it. "Are you going to do this when my kid is born? Are you going to ask me to put you first over her? I can't do that. You know I can't. Fuck, the entire reason we're in this situation is because our parents didn't put us first. They decided to chuck us into a pit and didn't care if we came out deranged or dead. Is that what you want me to do to my kid? Is that what you want to do to any kids you have someday?"

Giovanni was red in the face, his hands clenched into fists at his side. "Of course not—"

"Then act like it! Because as far as I can tell, you're about two steps away from becoming your mother—"

The blow snapped Caleb's head to the side, the vertebrae of his neck popping and his teeth cutting into the inside of his cheek. He stumbled, catching himself on a wall. Stars burst in front of his eyes and his face pulsed with pain. After a moment, he managed to half-turn and look back at Giovanni. The other man stood there, cradling a fist in his palm, the knuckles purpling from the impact. He was breathing heavily, as if he'd run a mile, but his eyes were too wide as he stared at Caleb, looking like he wasn't sure what had just happened.

Giovanni's mouth worked, as if finding the taste of the words he wanted to use foul, and then he said, "I'm not like her. I'm going to be better than she ever was."

Caleb spat out a mouthful of blood. "Prove it, asshole."

"Cal—"

"Take her out. Make things right by me. Then we'll talk about whether I'm staying or not."

Giovanni nodded, reached out towards Caleb's face, then thought better of it. He grabbed a handkerchief from his suit's breast pocket and held it out to Caleb. Caleb took it, wiped away the blood on his lips, and shoved it into his pocket. He followed half a step behind Giovanni as they went to Madame Maki's quarters.

There he listened, silent and with blood gathering in his mouth, as Giovanni's mother railed at her son for his incompetence (despite him having nothing to do with Miyamoto's fate), for smirking at her best friend's death (when Giovanni's face was, in fact, stony and without a trace of a smile), and for thinking he had any right to take over as her second-in-command (when she'd been grooming him for the position for years now). Sure enough, she threw a glass of wine against the wall, the red stain of it spreading down the wallpaper. Shards of crystal crunched beneath their boots when they left. At that moment, it didn't feel like anything had changed for them.

But this day would change everything for them. He just hadn't known then that it would be for the worse.

---

Months later, Caleb and Giovanni spent a night in the study that had once belonged to Mr. Maki. The room hadn't been built with overhead electrical lighting, so they'd lit a fire in the hearth—which had burned down to glowering embers—and brought in a couple of lamps to work by. The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases, mostly filled with legal texts—their illuminated titles glistening gold—though there were also a few Western novels tucked amongst them. The oak table in the center of the room, which they'd carved their initials into as boys, was covered with personnel files. A decanter of bourbon and two glasses sat in the center of them. There was also smoke drifting from an ashtray, due to the cigars Giovanni had recently taken to. Caleb had teased him about it, at first—"You're becoming more and more of a cliché every day"—but Giovanni had said, "It's this or more liquor. Board meetings with my mother are unbearable," and Caleb hadn't pressed him further.

It was quiet, with only the sounds of flipping papers, the scratch of pens, and the occasional glug from the decanter as they topped their drinks. They were playing Tetris with Team Rocket agents again, due to a few more of Madame Maki's veterans retiring or not returning from their recent missions. It had started with the rescue party for Miyamoto—friends of hers who hadn't found a body, and then hadn't found their way back to the planes they'd had tickets for—and compounded from there. Mrs. Maki had started hissing about traitors and become increasingly distrustful as of late, something Giovanni clearly enjoyed as he found replacements for their positions.

"How much longer, do you think?" Caleb asked.

Giovanni didn't look up from the paperwork in front of him. "Another hour, maybe. My eyes are starting to cross."

"Not what I meant."

Recently, Giovanni had asked Caleb to go over the tools of his trade with him. He'd been the most curious about slow-acting poisons, asking Caleb how he kept himself from being exposed and what signs to look out for if he thought he had been. Caleb had answered his questions as thoroughly as he could, but didn't ask why he was suddenly interested. A few weeks later, when his apprentice noticed that some of their supplies were missing, Caleb told him they'd gone off and he'd disposed of them. He'd also gifted Giovanni with a pair of leather gloves, ostensibly to go with the new motorbike he'd purchased.

Giovanni met his eyes. "Not long. With the ways things are going, she'll need to step down soon."

Good. "You'll be busy, covering for her," Caleb noted.

"What else is new?" Giovanni said.

"What will you do afterwards?" Caleb asked, because it was past 2am and it seemed like a question that could be asked in the gloom.

"Besides have a bottle of champagne?"

Caleb nodded. "What's your plan when all of this is yours?"

Giovanni took a sip of his bourbon. "I'm thinking we take over Kanto."

Caleb choked on his drink. The alcohol stung in his nose. "Be serious."

Giovanni lifted an eyebrow. "You think I'm not? It won't be long before I'm the top gym leader in the League, and it practically runs our economy. Once I have control of that, I won't take much to make the rest fall into line."

Caleb couldn't tell if Giovanni was joking. "But think of the paperwork." He gestured to the spread in front of them.

"I can delegate that. What, you don't think I could do it?"

"I'm sure you could." He was doing better at running a criminal empire than Caleb would have believed several years ago. Doing the same to a country probably wouldn't be much different, once you knew which levers to pull. "But you should take a vacation first. Before you commit to a lifetime of bureaucracy," Caleb said. He wouldn't be surprised if Giovanni's recent rough edges and wild ambitions were due to the lack of sleep. "I'll even spring for it. Send you somewhere with white sand beaches and lots of tiny margaritas." It was hard to imagine Giovanni enjoying one now, but they'd spent a few weeks on Cinnabar when they'd been younger. Giovanni had gotten as red as a magmar from the sun and regretted nothing.

"With what I pay you, you can afford some margarita jugs," Giovanni said. "But don't bother buying a ticket. I own an island now," Giovanni told him.

Since when and why? "Did Natasha convince you she needed one?"

Giovanni shook his head. "We thought it best to have an isolated location for the Mew Project."

Damn. So much for it being a place for him to relax. "You're still going after it?"

"Maybe not the creature itself. I'd rather not throw loyal agents at something that flings avalanches at them. But it was sacred to the natives, so there might be a relic hidden somewhere that we can use. If the Cinnabar Lab can revive extinct pokémon from stone, we can do the same with a scrap of skin or hair," Giovanni said.

"Don't they have entire bodies to work with?" Caleb asked. He'd skimmed some of the publications on Giovanni's desk. Those researchers had needed a lot of raw material for their resurrections.

"They do, but there are some experts who say they'd need less," Giovanni said. "There's a geneticist at Viridian University who seems promising. And he needs the funding."

"It sounds like you have everything figured out," Caleb said. He had to admit, it would be novel to finance a scientific venture for once.

"Having a Legendary pokémon on our side would give us an edge no one else has. Even Lance's dragons wouldn't be able to resist it," Giovanni said. "Especially if it can learn any type of elemental move. Even if another Team managed to get their own Legendary, we could counter them. And if we could rear it ourselves, rather than just capture it…."

"That might work. Though I hope you're not putting all our eggs into this basket," Caleb said. Having Mew sounded amazing, but if it were easy to control, surely someone would have done it already? Those people who had worshiped it, for instance. If siccing Mew on their enemies had been an option, why hadn't they? They'd been facing down annihilation. And what did it say about Mew that it had let those people die? Why hadn't it protected them after those centuries of reverence?

Maybe it was too much to expect a god to care about its children.

Giovanni took a long drink of bourbon. "There are other projects in the works. This is just the most interesting one."

Caleb tried to imagine it. "Well, if it works, you'll have to change up your wardrobe. Get something that complements the pink. Otherwise you'll look like a tropical bird when you have that kitten on your shoulder, vomiting up hyper beams at your enemies," Caleb said.

"We'll start with Agatha. The cranky old bat deserves it," Giovanni said. The woman had hit him with her cane during the last League meeting, when he'd suggested shifting some of the funds from the Lavender Town Heritage Trust to the Rocky Tunnel Restoration Project instead. Never mind that keeping those caves safe to traverse would encourage people to visit—and thus support the local businesses—in her hometown. But no, because Giovanni had earth pokémon on his team, Agatha thought it was an underhanded move to support his team-building exercises. Somehow.

"What are you going to do with the other leaders afterwards?" Caleb asked.

"That depends on them. If they acknowledge me as Kanto's new ruler, they can keep their little fiefdoms. If not…." Giovanni shrugged.

"You'll really kill them?" Caleb asked quietly.

Giovanni's eyes grew flinty. "I don't think I'll have to. The younger ones will fall into line. And I can buy off some of the old guard. But there will be a few we need to clean out. The Cerulean pair, for instance. They'll be problems if we don't deal with them."

"Tell me you're not sending me after a couple with a mated pair of blastoise?" Caleb sighed.

"No. I'll think of a more elegant solution," Giovanni promised. "It would be too soon to move on them anyways. Team Rocket isn't ready to take the country by storm. We need to gather more resources and manpower. The Mew Project alone will probably take years to complete, especially if we can't capture it outright," Giovanni admitted.

As much as it was a relief to hear that they wouldn't be rushing into anything, that did mean that Caleb's involvement with this endeavor might go on for much longer than he or Selena wanted. "And what about my little girl?" Caleb asked quietly.

The deformities had grown. Most of the doctors they'd seen had asked if they were sure they wanted the pregnancy to continue. Only one of them had been more optimistic, saying that the lumps didn't appear to be cancerous or affecting their baby's internal organs. In fact, the lumps were similar to the vestigial tails she'd seen, complete with tiny bones. She'd suggested that a post-birth surgery might fix the problem.

Giovanni didn't look worried. "What about her?"

"How am I supposed to be there for her if I'm helping you conquer a country?" Caleb asked.

Giovanni seemed exasperated as he set his drink aside. "I'm not asking you to be on the front lines with me."

Caleb lifted an eyebrow. "Oh really? You'd go into battle without your second-in-command?"

"If that's what you need," Giovanni said curtly. "Though obviously, I'd prefer to have you there."

That was how Caleb had always imagined them getting their revenge, too. But every day, the sharp, searing edges of that dream softened, growing less distinct and painful. When he'd thought back to the experiment recently, he'd been startled and a little sick to find that the anger there felt worn, rather than righteous. Even his grief for Nadia had felt that way. Was he betraying her by letting her murder go? Or would she have understood? Would she have even wanted them to keep fighting for her like this? And even if she did, did he want to keep fighting? "What if we just…didn't?" he asked softly.

Giovanni stared at him. "Explain."

Caleb met his eyes and tried not to flinch at the intensity in them. "What would we even get out of you taking over Kanto? Between Team Rocket and the League, you already have all the money and power and prestige you could want. And you've made sure I'm set for life. So what's the point? What would we get except more problems?"

He could hear Giovanni grinding his teeth from across the table. "How about justice?"

"We've been getting that! But then there's another enemy we need to put down, and then another, and another. There never seems to be an end to them. So when do we decide enough is enough? When do we get to put our guns down and rest?" Caleb argued. "I mean fuck, Giovanni, we survived something no one thought we would. Wouldn't the best way to get back at them be to enjoy the rest of our fucking lives?"

Giovanni glared at him. "Since when did your dreams get so small?"

"They were never that big," Caleb countered. "I just wanted to be a halfway decent trainer. Maybe work at your gym, because obviously you were going to get one. Then, I don't know, get a degree, get a wife, have a kid or two, and settle down with the fluffiest pokémon I could find. Something basic."

"Where's your sense of adventure? Where's your ambition?" Giovanni asked.

"That was you and Nadia," Caleb reminded him. "You were the ones aiming to be a power couple. I was always the third wheel."

"You were not. You were our best friend," Giovanni argued.

"Am I still?" Caleb asked. If he was really Giovanni's best friend, wouldn't Giovanni put his wishes first? Even if his wishes were so much smaller than Giovanni's?

Giovanni growled as he said, "Of course you are. How can you even think—"

"I keep telling you I need space for my family. You don't listen," Caleb said.

Giovanni gripped his glass so tightly that his knuckles went white. Then he said, very quietly, "Fine. Take a sabbatical. I'll let you know when I need you back."

Caleb wasn't sure if this was a victory or not. It wasn't the break from Team Rocket that he needed, but it would be a break. Time enough to make sure his wife and daughter were okay. "Thank you. But what about—" He gestured to the papers in front of them.

"I'll find someone else. You're lousy at it anyway," Giovanni said, without the lightness he usually had in his voice when he was teasing Caleb. Maybe he didn't have the energy for it, or maybe he'd needed Caleb here more as morale support, rather than for his skills with accounting.

Guilt prickled in Caleb's chest. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, but…. "I'm sorry. I know you need me, but—"

"But I'm not your priority anymore," Giovanni spat.

It was true, but the venom in Giovanni's voice made it seem worse than it was. "You're still important to me. You're still my friend," Caleb insisted.

"That would mean more if you were willing to see this through," Giovanni said. "Who am I meant to trust? Proton? Not after that scandal with the slowpokes. Sid? Too vicious to be used as anything but an attack dog. Petrel and Ariana? Pushovers, both of them. Archer? He'll try to put himself in my seat the instant I show a weakness. That leaves Natasha, and she's already taken on too much as it is."

What was Caleb supposed to do, summon a new executive out of the ether? "Maybe you should give them all a new mission. Something that requires discretion. See who rises to the top."

Giovanni inclined his head, considering it. "And if they fail?"

"Make an example of them. Then see if their subordinates can do what they couldn't," Caleb recommended.

"And you keep worrying you don't have the stones for this work," Giovanni said ruefully. "Fine. What do you suggest?"

"Well, if you're going after Mew, you'll need to learn how to control a psychic, won't you?" Caleb suggested. It wasn't like there were many experts in psychic-types around. Selena wasn't one, despite her gift. But there was the Saffron Gym leader. "What about Vance?"

Giovanni blinked. "You're not suggesting I abduct a fellow Gym Leader, are you?"

"Abduct? No. Infiltrate the gym and learn his secrets? Absolutely," Caleb said. "We know he can't read minds. If he could, he would have exposed you by now."

"And what about the girl? She's much stronger than him. If she has that gift, she could spill our secrets," Giovanni pointed out.

"If they're good at what they do, they'll either retreat before she can learn anything incriminating, or they'll spin it as a story she made up. As long they don't hurt her or her father, it shouldn't backfire on us," Caleb said. And if it did, it didn't exactly sound like these executives would be missed.

"It's risky," Giovanni said.

"Aren't you all about taking risks?" Caleb retorted.

"When I can control the outcomes," Giovanni said.

"Well maybe it's time to figure out how to deal with chaos," Caleb said. "Because that's what you're going to get if you start a war."

Giovanni's eyes narrowed. "When I start a war," he corrected.

He was so damned stubborn! "Is that really going to make you happy?" Caleb asked.

"Making sure no one can fuck with me again would make me happy," Giovanni said.

And maybe that was what it all boiled down to: his need to be too powerful to cross.

Caleb let out a long, slow sigh. He understood the feeling, but he didn't have the energy for it. "Fine. But before you dive off the deep end, I'm taking a break, and you're seeing if any of them can handle my job."

Giovanni nodded. "We'll see."

They continued to drink and pour over paperwork until the gray hours of the morning. By the end of it, Caleb was too buzzed to drive home and stumbled his way to a guest room. He called Selena, explaining when he would be back and that he might be able to burn those vacation days he'd saved up, and then some. He would get the details in writing when the sun rose.

He tried to sleep afterwards, but a feeling of unease kept him tossing and turning. Maybe it had been a mistake to suggest talking to Vance. What if their agents were caught? What if they did hurt the man and his daughter? How old was the girl, six or seven? Could he live with himself if something happened to her? He was going to have a daughter himself soon. What if someone, someday, suggested doing something like this to his family? The thought made his stomach churn. He would tell Giovanni it was a dumb idea when they were sober. They shouldn't court trouble like that anyway.

He awoke around noon to the smell of coffee, pancakes, and bacon. There was a platter on his nightstand, with two aspirin and a glass of water. He downed the pills and was beginning to tuck into his brunch when he noticed the slip of paper folded under the coffee mug. He unfolded it and read:

Caleb,

Sent the team with the necessary documents this morning. We'll see who proves themselves up to the challenge. I will meet with your apprentice to discuss him filling in for you while you're out. Consider yourself on an extended paternal leave.

From your very generous boss,

Giovanni

P.S.—Perhaps what you want for your future is small. But after everything that happened to us, don't we deserve everything this world has to offer? Doesn't your daughter? Doesn't she deserve more than what she's been given?

Don't you want to give her the world?

---

Now:

"That's bullshit," Cassandra said, though she said it without anger this time. Mostly she just felt tired. It was easy to imagine Giovanni writing that letter at his desk at 4am. It was easy to imagine the pulse in his jaw as he gritted his teeth. Don't we deserve everything this world has to offer?

Caleb looked anxious. "What part?"

She breathed in slowly, deeply. "That the world owes us shit for what we've been through," she said. "The world doesn't care. Most people aren't going to either, especially the ones who hurt us."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "So you think we should have just sucked it up and moved on?"

Cassandra stared him down. "Look, revenge is fun and all. And I'm not saying they didn't deserve it. But did any of that really make you feel better?"

Caleb's smile was wry as he admitted, "Not really."

Cassandra looked down at her hands, wrapped around her coffee cup. She had had five years of therapy to consider how she felt about her time in Team Rocket. "I had the chance to kill Giovanni. A lot of them, actually. I might still have to," she admitted, though there was a large part of her that didn't want to get involved in that violence again.

She had lived half a decade without it, with her children and the protectors who'd become her friends. And while there had been growing pains—like when they'd sat her down and explained, gently but firmly, what was and was not acceptable in "non-gang member society," much to her mortification—she was grateful for it. She might not have been completely happy, not with the holes in her heart where Mewtwo and Shadow had been, but she'd been content. She'd started looking forward to the future, rather than bitterly looking back at what she'd lost.

She shook her head. "I almost shot him when I was leaving. Sometimes I think about that and think, 'That's where it should have ended, right?' If this was a show, that's the climax. That's the moment where I get revenge for everything he put me through. And this war we've been going through never would have happened. Wouldn't that have been better?"

"Except popular shows get renewed and real life isn't as simple," Florian chimed in.

"Right, exactly. So we kept going. This fight keeps going. But the more it goes on, the more I almost…don't care," Cassandra admitted.

Caleb's brow furrowed with concern. So did Florian's and Michael's. "Care about…?" Caleb prompted.

"Getting even," Cassandra said. "If that was really my priority, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be raising my kids. I wouldn't be having family dinners with these idiots," she said, sticking her thumb out at the others. They made slight noises of protest, but were clearly struggling not to smile. "I wouldn't be happy. You can't carry that kind of anger in you and be happy. Not really."

Caleb smiled, though the smile was brittle. "That's wise of you."

"Therapy helps. You should try it." She very much doubted Giovanni would be willing to. Or that anyone would be willing to take the mass murdering maniac on. "Point being, as long as you define yourself by what happened to you, I don't think you can move on. I don't think you can become something else."

She could call herself a survivor until the end of her days and it would, she supposed, be true. But was that who she wanted to be? Was that what anyone wanted to be?

Caleb's eyes were glassy as he said, "I wish you didn't know that."

She knew what he meant. She hoped Christopher and Maya would never learn the same lesson. "We all have our trauma," she said. "I've just had help getting through mine." Help that, obviously, Caleb and her guardian had needed. Though she wasn't sure how many resources would have been available to them at the time. The mental health field had been in its infancy then and seeking it out would have been stigmatized. It still was for men. Maybe they deserved slightly more credit, or at least more understanding, than she was inclined to give them.

Cassandra cleared her throat. "Alright. Clearly you didn't actually quit at that point, so what happened next?"

---

Twenty-Four Years Ago:

Madame Maki died a month before Cassandra was born.

It had been a slow and painful decline. Her sickness had forced her to retire to her wing of the manor, her flesh wasting away like wax running from a burning wick. She'd been unable to keep anything down, throwing up vomit the color and texture of coffee grounds. Stomach bleeding, the doctors told them afterwards. The rest of her digestive track hadn't been in any better shape, though heart failure was ultimately what ended her life. She should have gone to the hospital sooner. Maybe then they could have treated her.

Giovanni had nodded grimly and went to put her affairs in order. Caleb was sure there had been a bribe to the coroner and maybe to those same doctors. The police might have received a cut as well, though if they did, it didn't stop them from celebrating. According to one of their moles, they'd had a party for Madame Maki's passing, complete with ice cold beers and a red velvet cake in the shape of a woman's silhouette. Classy.

Within Team Rocket there was a tasteful funeral, with members of the old guard speaking about how they'd admired her as a leader, admired her strength of will, admired her cunning and her sharp sense of humor. Giovanni had kept his words brief, saying that she had taught him the value of perseverance. He ignored the glares some of her remaining allies threw his way. Many of them would be forced into early retirements within the next few months. The smart ones accepted country manors and pensions, in thanks for their dedicated service. The others…well, after the first few met their ends, they bowed their heads. Some even asked to be sent abroad to set up ancillary Team Rocket cells. Giovanni allowed this, though he sent a few loyal agents with them. Best to keep an eye on them, just in case.

Caleb halfway considered asking for the same thing—it would get his family out of Kanto, at least—but Selena was too far along to make the trip. Perhaps after their little girl was born. The weeks passed in a blur. Then he was in the delivery room, holding Selena's hand as she struggled to bring their child into the world. But then their baby's head started to crown, and then the shoulders, and then—

The nurse gasped and looked at the doctor, who seemed surprised, even though she'd known what to expect. The extra pair of limbs protruding from their baby's back were minuscule, with the faintest bit of down on them, coated with blood. It was one thing to know it was coming from the ultrasounds, but another to see it. It gave the moment a sense of unreality, like if he blinked, he would be back in their bedroom and none of this would have happened yet. Maybe all of this—his child's birth, his marriage, his first ugly missions, all the way back to the evening of Mr. Maki's funeral—maybe all of it was a dream. His daughter couldn't look like a baby angel. What were those called, cherubs? But those weren't real. None of this could be real.

Yet it was. He knew that the moment his little girl opened her mouth and started screaming at the world.

Selena smiled tiredly. "Listen to her. She sounds like she has a lot to say."

"She does," Caleb agreed, feeling a wave of exhaustion pass through him as the tension of the last eighteen hours abated. He couldn't imagine how Selena must be feeling.

The doctor and the nurse, at least, returned to their routine after the shock had worn off. They snipped the umbilical cord and cleaned their daughter up, taking special care with her extra limbs. Then she was wrapped up and handed, very gently, to Selena.

"Be careful with putting pressure on her back," the nurse advised. "The—the wings seem sensitive."

"Are they hurting her?" Caleb asked. They still hadn't decided what to do about them.

"She doesn't appear to be in pain," the doctor said. "And they're better defined than I expected. I'm not sure they'll ever be usable, but it's hard to tell. We'll keep an eye on them and figure out if she needs surgery later. For now, she seems like a very healthy girl. Congratulations." She gave them a genuine smile.

"Do you have a name in mind?" the nurse asked, a clipboard balanced on her arm.

"Cassandra Anne Brennan," Selena said. It was a family tradition on her side, using names inspired by Greco-Roman mythology. The Anne was for Caleb's late aunt, an avid mountaineer who'd taken Caleb into the wilderness a few times during his childhood, teaching him how to read trail maps, forage for mushrooms, make snares, fish, and find his way using the stars. Those skills had been invaluable when he'd become a trainer, but she'd also given him a sense of peace he'd been sorely lacking back then. His parents had been too involved with the Team and his brothers too consumed by their competition with one another. It had been easy for Caleb to be overlooked.

He wouldn't do that to Cassandra. He was going to be there every step of the way. Maybe in a few years, the three of them could go on their first camping trip together. It had been a long time since he'd been out there, under the real night sky, the chill of mountain air against his face, with the smell of pines in his nose. All he'd had to worry about was not getting lost.

(It had been so easy, back then.)

Selena stroked Cassandra's nose with a fingertip. "She's a pretty little mutant, isn't she? Our little angel." The nurse, who was finishing cleaning Selena up, coughed.

"She looks a lot like you," he agreed. The same chin, the same cheeks, the same nose. "Though that hair is all mine," he said, touching the black fuzz on Cassandra's terrifyingly soft head.

"Do you want to hold her? I'm about ready to pass out," Selena admitted.

He leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead. "You've earned it." He then, very carefully, took his daughter into his arms for the first time. She was startlingly tiny and light, seeming to weigh almost nothing. He could feel the stubs of her wings and shifted so his forearm would rest between them. He settled himself down into the chair next to the bed, scared that he might drop her. She squirmed and snuffled, but seemed to be settling down to sleep. Being born must have taken a lot out of her.

"Hello, Cassandra," he said, throat tight with sudden tears. She was so small and she was all theirs. They'd made this little girl. It seemed overwhelming, suddenly, even though he'd had months to prepare himself. "I'm so happy to finally meet you." He pressed a kiss to her crown. Words failed him, so he started humming instead, one of the lullabies Selena had taught him, since he didn't remember any from his own childhood. Selena hummed along with him, then fell quiet as sleep took her.

He stayed awake. He didn't want to pass Cassandra over to the nursery. What if people gawked at her? Eventually, though, sleep began to make his limbs warm and heavy. He had to fight to keep his eyes open. He poked his head out of the room to ask a nurse if she could bring them a cradle. After he explained why, she rolled one into the room. Once Cassandra was settled in, he decided that coffee and a walk was in order. Tempting as it was to fall asleep, doing so outside of his home made him leery these days. Perhaps he should have brought Dusk with him—he could have asked her to watch over them—but it had made sense to leave her to guard the house instead. With a sigh, he went down a level to the nearest vending machine. He fed the machine a few coins and punched in the number for an iced coffee, one that looked like it was half caramel syrup. The can hit the bottom of the machine with a clang and foamed when he pulled the tab. Slurping at the bubbles before they could drip, he went back to their room.

When he entered, there was a tall silhouette in front of the window.

His stomach dropped. Selena was still asleep, but looked unharmed. But the cradle—the cradle was empty. His heart lurched into his throat as he heard a gurgle coming from the shadow. Then a car passed in the parking lot, sending a rectangle of light through the window, and he saw that the figure was Giovanni. The frantic pounding in his chest slowed, but the queasiness in his stomach remained. He cursed under his breath, even as Giovanni smiled and raised one finger to his lips, then pointed at the baby in his arms and at Caleb's wife.

Caleb strode over to him. "You son of a bitch," he whispered. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"It's not my fault you weren't here when I knocked," Giovanni said. The amber lights from the street lamps and building windows, combined with the overcast sky, made the horizon behind him rusty red. Caleb saw the blue of what might have been a plane swoop down through the clouds, dipping towards the airfield. He swallowed hard to get his breathing back under control.

Giovanni looked down at the bundle in his arms. "So this is her, then?"

"No, we stole that one from the nursery," Caleb quipped. "Yes, that's her. Giovanni, meet Cassandra."

His best friend smiled. "She's smaller than I expected. And redder."

"Apparently that's normal."

"But these aren't," Giovanni said, carefully shifting her so that they could both look at the wings sprouting from her back.

They stared at them for a moment. Her wings twitched at the cool air. "Obviously not," Caleb said, anxiety making the muscles at the back of his neck tense.

Giovanni, keeping her balanced on one beefy arm, traced the edge of one wing with a fingertip. She squeaked at the contact. Caleb reached out, suddenly and desperately wanting to be the one holding her. Giovanni ignored him. "Are they functional?" he asked.

"Not right now," Caleb said, arms still outstretched.

"But if they grow, could they be?" Giovanni asked.

"I honestly have no idea. Give her here," Caleb said, voice strained.

"Come on now, I've barely had five minutes with her," Giovanni said with a low, rumbling chuckle. "Besides, I'm going to need the practice."

Right. Natasha was expecting and they were going to tie the knot before she started showing. It was going to be a less lavish affair than Caleb and Selena's wedding. Apparently, Natasha didn't want the frippery. Caleb had wondered if that stung Giovanni some, considering how much care he'd put into planning his wedding with Nadia. He'd spent weeks obsessing over flower arrangements.

But right now, Caleb found he couldn't care about that. He tugged at Cassandra's baby blanket. "I need it more. You have a few months before you need to worry about it."

Giovanni sighed. "Hogging the baby all to yourself. I see how it is." But he passed Cassandra to Caleb, careful to support her head while he did so.

"Thank you," Caleb said, his fear fading as he cradled her against his chest.

After a moment, Giovanni said, "She's perfect. You and Selena did well."

"Thank you, we tried really hard at it," Caleb said.

Giovanni grimaced. "Can't you be serious for two seconds?"

"Pardon me for being a little flippant when I'm running on negative hours of sleep," Caleb said.

"I could watch her for a few hours if you'd like to take a nap," Giovanni offered.

Caleb hesitated, even though there was no real reason to. Giovanni and Natasha would probably babysit for them at some point in the future. Their children would undoubtedly be playmates and might even become as close as siblings. Yet the memory of that looming shadow at the window lingered. "Don't you have to open the gym in a few hours?"

Giovanni shook his head. "You'd be surprised at how many personal days the League gives you. I could have my gym shut down for six months out of the year and they wouldn't even audit me. I'd be angry about the lack of standards, but since it lets me spend time with my favorite family…." He shrugged.

His favorite family. Weird to think that that was probably true, considering Giovanni's relationship with his extended family and his lack of other close friendships. He had many allies, but his personal circle was very small. When he thought about it like that, Caleb would look like an asshole if he turned him down. Still…. "Give me a few more minutes and then I'll pass out. I just downed something like 100mg of caffeine and twice that of sugar."

"Thank goodness you have a good dental plan," Giovanni said, sitting in the folding chair the doctor had left behind.

Caleb grunted in response and settled back down in his own chair. Selena was still dead to the world. She was going to be upset when she realized she hadn't woken up while Giovanni was here. Caleb considered nudging her awake, then realized that would be cruel after nearly a full day of pain and effort. He rocked Cassandra back and forth, trying to settle her back down.

After several minutes, Giovanni asked, "Are you still considering surgery for her wings?"

"We don't know yet. It depends on if they're hurting her," Caleb said.

"They don't look like they are. And if they grow with her, maybe someday she'll be flying around our heads," Giovanni said.

Caleb groaned. "Don't jinx us. It's supposed to be hard enough to catch a kid once they start walking. I don't even want to think about her moving in three dimensions."

"Technically, we all move in three dimensions. This isn't a videogame," Giovanni said.

"Shut up, you know what I mean," Caleb groused.

"I'm just saying that you might want to consider embracing her mutation, rather than chopping it off. How would you feel if you learned you had the chance to fly, but your parents decided to make you 'normal' instead?" Giovanni asked.

"It's not about her being normal or not. It's about making sure she doesn't live her life in pain," Caleb argued.

"All the same, maybe it should be her decision, not yours," Giovanni said.

"Giovanni, she's six hours old. We have to make the calls for her. And we haven't decided on anything yet. We're going to play it by ear."

"You mean you're going to wing it," Giovanni said with a shit-eating grin.

"Say that again and I'm smother you with a pillow," Caleb promised.

Giovanni's grin widened. "I'm just saying to think about it. Imagine her all grown up with those wings. She'd strike fear and awe into everyone who sees her. Our enemies would piss themselves."

Caleb frowned. "She's a little young for us to be planning out her future. And I don't want her anywhere near our enemies."

"There may not be much of a choice," Giovanni pointed out, his smile fading. "If anyone digs into how she got this mutation…." He shook his head. "Perhaps there's a way to hide it."

"I'm not going to make my daughter wear a huge cloak everywhere she goes," Caleb said. "And now who's worried about her looking normal?"

"I don't think her appearance is anything to be ashamed of. But being scrutinized from birth won't do her any favors. And if you factor in the symbolism of angels…." Giovanni shook his head. "We don't want to scar her or let it go to her head." He drummed his fingers on his armrest. "Maybe Silph Co. will have some recommendations."

"The pokémon technology company?" Caleb asked incredulously.

"She's a flying type, wouldn't you say? A dark flying type?" Giovanni suggested.

"She might be psychic like her mother," Caleb said.

"Okay, a psychic flying type. They might see it as an interesting challenge. They might even do it pro bono, since they'd be helping a child," Giovanni said.

The idea had some merit to it. "As long as they don't turn her into a lab rat."

"I'll make sure they won't harm a hair on her head. Or a feather," Giovanni promised.

It couldn't hurt to make some discreet inquiries. Plus, if there was one advantage to having a crime lord and gym leader as an ally, it was that he could throw his weight around, get things done, and keep people quiet doing it.

"She would make a great agent someday, though," Giovanni said. "And if all of our children end up as gifted as she is—"

"No," Caleb cut in.

Giovanni blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I said no. She's not going to be a part of Team Rocket," Caleb said firmly.

Giovanni looked confused. "She's already a part of it."

"No. She's a baby. She's my baby. And I'm not involving her in it. I'll help you with whatever needs doing, but we're leaving Cassandra out of it," Caleb said.

Giovanni's cheeks flushed. "You don't think she'll want to be part of the family business?"

"She can decide that as an adult. Until then, she's going to have as normal a life as we can give her," Caleb said.

Giovanni gave him a pitying look. "And how normal do you think that will be, with you in Team Rocket and with her abilities?"

"I don't know," Caleb admitted. "But I want her to have a better childhood than we did. That means not grooming her to be a petty grunt."

"She would never be a grunt. She'd be an executive at the very least," Giovanni tried to joke.

Caleb wasn't having it. "I said no. You try anything with her and I walk. And I take out your kneecaps on the way out."

Giovanni stared at him, his face getting darker. Then he leaned back with his palms up. "Fine. She's off limits."

"Thank you," Caleb said, wanting to feel relieved at the capitulation, but failing.

Giovanni stood up, his knees popping. He grimaced. "I should go. They're installing those specialty floor tiles at the gym today. I should be there to make sure they don't muck it up."

Caleb didn't believe for one second that Giovanni couldn't reschedule that. But Caleb also couldn't bring himself to insist that Giovanni stay, even if it would allow Caleb to get some shut eye. "Can't keep those contractors waiting," Caleb said.

"Not if you don't want a surcharge." Giovanni hesitated, then placed a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "Congratulations, by the way." Then he left, closing the door behind him.

Caleb resisted the urge to lock it. The doctor would no doubt be back soon to check on them. So, with a tired sigh, he picked himself up and wheeled the cradle so that it was between his chair, Selena's bed, and the nightstand. Now no one would be able to reach Cassandra without waking them. He pressed a kiss to her unsettlingly soft head, then placed her in the cradle and tucked her in. As he straightened, he looked at Selena and found her watching him. There were puffy bags under her eyes, but her gaze was sharp.

"We need to go," she whispered.

Caleb reached over to squeeze her hand. "Not before the doctors clear you both to go home."

"I don't mean from the hospital," she said.

Oh. They'd talked about leaving Kanto, but they couldn't do that now. They weren't ready to move, and Cassandra was probably too young to go on an airplane anyway. "We can't. You need time to recover. And we need to figure out what's best for Cassandra. He—he has a point about Silph Co. Maybe—"

Selena tried to push herself up, winced, and laid back down. "Caleb. Were you listening to him?"

"I did. And did you hear what I told him?" Caleb asked.

"I did. I'm proud of you." Selena smiled at him, but then her smile wilted. "I just don't think he's going to care."

Of course he would. They were friends. Family, even. "He'll keep his word."

Selena considered him over the edge of her pillow. "At some point," she said, "you need to start trusting me and not him."

How could she say that? The words were barbs through his heart. "I do trust you," he said. "But even if we run off like you want—" And now his voice was breaking, fracturing from frustration and exhaustion. "—do you really think he won't follow us?" he asked.

The words hung heavy in the air.

"Well," Selena said after a moment. "At least you admitted it."

No. He hadn't meant it like that. Giovanni would check on them and make sure they were alright, but he would let them go if that's what Caleb wanted. "I didn't mean—he wouldn't—"

"I know you love him. Maybe more than you love me," Selena said. When Caleb made a noise of wordless protest, she shook her head. "And that's fine. But Cassandra deserves more from you. She needs you to be strong. She needs you to make sure the monsters don't get her."

"He's not a—"

"Isn't he? How many people has he killed now? How many lives has he ruined?" Selena asked, voice hard.

The instinct to defend his friend, who'd stood up for him since they'd trampled mud into Madame Maki's foyer, made him say, "You think I haven't?"

"You don't enjoy it," she hissed. "You don't plan your entire future around it!"

"That isn't what he's planning—"

"Isn't it?" Selena argued. "Do you think he won't make enemies when he tries to take over this country? Do you think he won't spend the rest of his life putting down anyone who tries to resist him? There's a fucking word for that, Caleb! You've studied history, I know you aren't that stupid."

"What would you—"

Cassandra, woken by their rising voices, started sobbing. He scooped her up and began rocking her, trying to calm her down. It took longer than it had last time. Maybe she sensed that they were angry. After her sobs trailed off, he whispered, "What are we supposed to do? Go to the police? He's bought off most of them."

"We go to my family. They're stronger psychics than me. They have connections. They can help us," Selena insisted.

Caleb knew who Giovanni had in his elite. He'd helped with funding their expeditions. He'd seen how far their reach was and how precise their strikes were. "He'd find a way around them."

"Then maybe," Selena said, "you should poison the motherfucker."

Caleb stared at her. Somewhere in the room, a clock ticked. Cassandra gurgled, her little hand clutching at his shirt. He didn't know what to say or think. Selena was one of the gentlest people he knew. She'd been sympathetic about his struggles with Giovanni. She'd understood that he was closer than a brother to him. But there was no sign of hesitation or regret in her eyes. She knew what she was asking him to do.

"I can't," he breathed.

For the first time in their marriage, she looked at him with contempt. She forced herself up into a sitting position, even though it clearly hurt her, and took Cassandra from his arms. "Then figure out another way for us to get out of this." She pressed her cheek against Cassandra's crown. "If you want to sacrifice yourself on his altar, go ahead. But I'm not letting you sacrifice her."

How could she say that? "I won't. Cassandra is more important than any of us. We just—we have to be careful. However we do this."

Selena lifted her head. "Just get it done."

Caleb swallowed hard and nodded.

---

Now:

"She was right," Cassandra said. "You should have just poisoned him."

Caleb looked gray under the electric lighting of the interrogation room. "Maybe. I think me putting my foot down spooked him, though. He stopped drinking with me around then." He stared at his coffee for a moment, then downed the rest of it. He grimaced, maybe at the temperature or at what he said next: "And he set guards on the house."

What? "He what?"

"For our 'protection,'" he said with finger quotes. "It took us a few weeks to notice them. They were even at the store when we went to get your diapers. I yelled at him about it, but he wouldn't budge. I think he knew Selena wanted to bolt. She wasn't exactly subtle about how much she hated our arrangement with him."

That didn't match what Cassandra remembered about her mother. "But I don't remember her turning him away when he visited. She was polite to him. I think they argued maybe once? And we stayed for years after you left. He—" Were her memories lying to her? "He called her his friend. He said he supported you together." If what he was saying was true, then why hadn't Selena run away with her after Caleb "died" on that mission? She might not have gotten far, but surely she would have tried?

Caleb scowled. "He lied. Or maybe he edited his memories to something he liked better. People do that. As for your mother…." He studied her face, then looked away. "Consider it from her perspective. She was hoping I'd come back. And when I didn't, that made it harder for her to leave. I knew how Team Rocket operated, she didn't. Contacting her family or the authorities wouldn't be safe. So that left getting you out with her own gumption. Which would mean getting past him and the guards. She'd have to play nice with him for a while. Wait for him to let his guard down. She probably had a plan in place. It just…didn't work out."

"Gee, it's almost like someone should have listened to my mother and ran years either, instead of going on a suicide mission," Cassandra sneered.

"Oh, like you did?" Caleb bit back. Apparently, she'd hit too close to home.

She wasn't going to ask him how he knew about her missions. He'd probably snuck into the base and read her files. Why he hadn't set up a bomb in Giovanni's office, she'd never know. That wasn't the point, though. "I didn't have a wife and child to take care of!" she reminded him.

Florian winced. He put his hands up horizontally and lowered them up and down. "Can we bring the murderous rage down by like, ten notches?"

"Shut up, Florian," she snapped.

"Cassandra," Michael said warningly. "Be nice."

Was now really the time? "I think I've earned the right to be a little pissed!" They should be grateful that she didn't have any knives on hand.

"Yes, but Florian didn't do anything wrong, and you're probably wrecking the recording with your shouting," Michael said, gesturing to the recorder.

"Who even cares about that?"

"Me and this little thing called posterity. This is your family history we're getting on record," Michael said.

"I'm pretty sure my kids and their kids will be fine with knowing that this entire thing is about to give me an aneurysm from rage," Cassandra said.

"Maybe I'd like to not get a migraine then, how about that?" Michael said.

"Is this a joke to you?" she asked.

"No, but I wouldn't like us to stay on track," Michael said.

"It's been hours," Cassandra said skeptically. "We lost the track ages ago."

Michael shrugged. "Honestly, this is very educational about the inner workings of organized crime. It's just as petty and dramatic as I've always imagined."

"It's not—Michael, this is my life we're talking about!"

"Sweetheart," he said in a tone that made her want to deck him. "That sums up your life to a T."

"…My life is not petty," Cassandra grumbled.

"But the main instigator of why your childhood was terrible clearly was," he said.

That actually made her choke out a laugh, and with that laugh, some of her anger deflated. He wasn't wrong. It was absurd that one person could so thoroughly demolish her life. "Fine. I'll take it down a little." Florian practically simpered in relief. She turned back to Caleb. "So why take that last mission? You must have known it was a set-up."

Caleb sighed. "That thought did occur to me, yes."

---

Twenty-One Years Ago:

"You want me to go to Guyana. With your black ops team. And secure a territory there?" Caleb repeated.

Giovanni's brow furrowed. He looked up from the file spread out on his desk, complete with a map of the area he was hoping Caleb would secure. Three quarters of it was rainforest, with a set of indigenous ruins nestled in the trees. "What's confusing about that?"

"Are you forgetting how many agents disappeared the last time we tangled with that Team?" Caleb asked.

"I haven't. I've made sure your team has better training and better equipment than they did," Giovanni said.

"And me? I'm not a combat expert," Caleb said. He could spy, tamper with people's drinks, and defend himself if he got into a scrape, but taking on an army? He couldn't manage that.

"You shouldn't need to engage the other Team directly. That is what your unit is for. I expect you to sneak around, find where their headquarters are, and direct your team on where to place the bombs," Giovanni said.

That was insane. "And the local government won't notice when a chunk of their land goes up in smoke?"

"Please. They'd thank us for taking care of their problem. We're aiming to gather resources from the area, not assassinate their local leaders," Giovanni said.

Assassinating the local leaders sounded easier. "And what exactly are these resources we're gathering?"

"Their Team has a cache of rare artifacts they've collected from the ruins—"

"Won't the bombs destroy those?"

Giovanni put his finger on a point on the map. "They're in a bunker. We'll be able to dig them out afterwards. The haul should be enough to fund our operations for the next decade or two. And that's not even counting the rare pokémon in the area."

Caleb barely managed to bite back a groan. "Is this another mew chase?"

Giovanni frowned. "I won't deny that is a part of it. Once we have the area secure, we can safely send out more teams to look for it. But that is not the primary goal."

Sure it wasn't. Giovanni had never gotten over the idea of controlling a Legendary. Caleb just wished he'd picked one closer to home. "And if I don't want to do this?" Caleb asked.

Giovanni glowered at him. "I can send another agent in your place. But the cut from this would be enough for you to retire on."

What?

There was anger in Giovanni's voice as he said, "That's what you want, isn't it? To cut and run? You've only been bitching and moaning about it for what, four years now? And making your little schemes with your wife?"

So he knew about their plans. Of course he did. "You've been spying on us."

"What choice did you give me when you won't talk to me?" Giovanni said.

Because talking to him didn't work. "You haven't been receptive to me leaving Team Rocket in the past," Caleb said.

"Because there was no one to replace you. But your apprentice seems…adequate. He'll be able to do the job, at least until I find someone with more raw talent," Giovanni said. He tapped his cigar, sending ash into the tray. "If you don't want to stick around, there is no point in forcing you. Not if I don't want a knife in my back."

Caleb would never do that. According to Selena, that was part of the problem. "I wouldn't—"

"Maybe not now. But give it five, ten years? She'll convince you. And even though I know that, I won't see it coming," Giovanni admitted.

Caleb's nails bit into his palms. "So you're sending me away?"

"I'm trusting you with one last mission. One that should secure both of our futures. And our children's," Giovanni said. "Do this for me, and you'll have the funds and freedom to go anywhere you want. All I ask is that you do it far away from me."

It was surreal. Caleb had spent years now worrying about Giovanni going ballistic when he tried to leave. He'd let that fear hold him in place. But now Giovanni was ready to cast him aside. It left him off balance and dizzy. "I thought we were friends," he said.

Giovanni reached down to pet his persian. Nadia's persian. "You're the one who wants to walk away. Even after everything I've done for you."

Caleb wasn't sure what to say. Giovanni had supported him. He'd kept him safe after the experiment, had given him a job and housing and enough funds to make sure his family's needs were met. He'd even followed through on commissioning Silph Co. to make something for Cassandra. The choker was thick and ugly, but it did the job, hiding her wings when they went out in public. He'd even enforced the NDA with blood, when one of the researchers had tried to spill to the press. On paper, Caleb owed him everything. After all of that, him wanting to leave made him look like an ungrateful shit.

But none of that had been given to Caleb freely. There had always been strings attached, dirty work to be done, and ambitions that tried to reach for the people Caleb loved. Was that a fair exchange? Was that how a relationship between friends was supposed to work?

"What the fuck do you want from me?" Caleb asked, voice cracking.

Giovanni's eyes were hard. "I want my brother back." He stood, towering over Caleb. "I want the person who promised to help me achieve my goals. Who would have my back, no matter what. You—I don't even know who you are, anymore! All I know is that you're weak. You can't even stand up to me for your daughter!"

Caleb punched him. It felt good. It felt right. Then Giovanni grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him sideways. Caleb's breath burst from him as he hit a wall and slid down. He heard the growling of Nadia's persian in his ears, saw a flash of garnet eyes, but didn't feel the searing pain of claws and fangs piercing his skin. She was still by the desk, spine arched and fur bristling as she watched them. Giovanni's shadow fell over him, then pain exploded beneath his ribs as the man kicked him. Gasping, Caleb twisted, grabbed Giovanni's arm, and used it to leverage himself up. He kneed Giovanni in the gut while the man tried to shake him off, then tackled him to the floor. There was a whirl of blunt force and hard edges as they wrestled, trying to get the upper hand, trying to gain control of the fight. Eventually he managed to get Giovanni under him and swung. His knuckles ripped open as he decked Giovanni across the jaw. Once. Then again. Then—

Click.

Cold metal pressed into the bottom of his jaw.

Giovanni looked up at him with a bloody smile. "There you are." He spat a red mouthful at Caleb. "Good to see you're still in there."

Was this who he was? Was this who he wanted to be?

"Are you going to kill me?" Caleb asked him.

Giovanni's grin widened. "It would be easy, wouldn't it?"

Silence stretched between them. Caleb didn't breathe.

Giovanni's arm fell. "No. I'm going to give you what you want. You do this for me and we're square. And when you get bored of your white picket fence life, you come find me. But until then—" He shoved Caleb off of him and got to his feet. He stood over him, gun in hand. Then he slowly, deliberately, flicked the safety on. "Get out of my sight."

Caleb did not need to be told twice. He got up, grabbed the file, and fled.

---

Selena wasn't happy when she heard about the mission. After making sure that Cassandra and Silver couldn't get out of their playpen (again), she called Natasha to come pick up her son, then grabbed their first aid kit and sat Caleb on the couch. She cleaned him up as he explained what had happened.

"He's sending you off to die," she concluded.

Caleb lifted the ice pack from his face to meet her eyes. "I don't think he wants this mission to fail."

"It can succeed without you being around afterwards. For all you know, that unit has orders to kill you as soon as it's done," Selena said.

"If he wanted me dead, he could have just shot me," Caleb said, exhaustion greying out his vision. The adrenaline was fading and his entire body felt like one big bruise. "God knows it wouldn't be the first time someone was shot in that house."

Selena studied his face. "You can't seriously be considering this."

"We wanted a way out. He's giving it to us on a silver platter."

"Exactly! It's an obvious trap," Selena said.

He took her hand. "You didn't see him. He's done with me." He pressed his forehead to hers, even though the pressure stung. "If I say no, I don't know what he'll do."

"Then we pack up and leave tonight. We don't have to take the one last job before retirement plan," Selena said.

"We do." Caleb was certain of that. Giovanni was spying on them. They wouldn't make it halfway to the airport before they were caught. Caleb didn't think that Giovanni would hurt Cassandra, but Selena—hadn't he made it clear what he thought of her? He'd never approved of her. He probably thought she was the one who'd made Caleb weak. If Giovanni wanted his "brother" back, then what better way to accomplish that than by getting rid of her? Caleb couldn't allow that to happen. "Once I'm back, we'll leave. We'll go to your family like you wanted. Maybe I'll try being a real accountant."

He'd hoped the joke would lighten the mood, but there were furious tears in her eyes instead. "Well now there's no way you're making it back."

"I will. I promise." He drew her into his arms and rubbed her back. "I won't go anywhere near the other Team. I won't be a part of any fighting. If things start to go south, I'll run. And then I'll make my way back to you."

"You're so stupid. I can't believe I married you!"

"I know. I'm very lucky," he said softly.

He held her as she cried, though he couldn't tell if she was sobbing from fear, anger, or grief. He thought it might be anger, given the names she called him between heaving breaths. Eventually, there was a knock on their front door. Selena cursed, wiped her face, and went to let Natasha in.

Natasha took one look at them and said, "So Giovanni told you about the mission?"

"He's not going," Selena said.

Natasha shrugged. "That's your choice. But if it helps, I've hand-picked the team. They're good at what they do. I don't plan on throwing away valuable personnel and resources. That includes your husband." She looked over at Caleb and took in his swollen face. She scrunched up her nose in what Caleb guessed was supposed to be an expression of sympathy. "No one wants you to die, Caleb. We just want to make sure someone's there to keep them honest."

"Honest? What's honesty to your lot?" Selena said.

Natasha gave her an exasperated look. "With all due respect, Selena, sneering at the people who took care of your daughter's medical expenses is not a good look. These people are professionals. They just…have a fondness for shiny things. Like platinum."

"And will they knife my husband over it?" Selena asked.

"No. Not if they want to live long enough to enjoy their paychecks," Natasha said. She met Caleb's eyes. "Stick to the plan, make sure everyone's at the extraction point on time, and you'll be fine. As mad as he is, I don't think he actually wants something to happen to you."

Caleb's face pulsed with pain. "He has a funny way of showing it."

"You've dicked him around for years. What did you expect?" Natasha asked.

Silver, the little escape artist, chose that time to toddle into the room, followed closely by Cassandra. "Mommy, I'm hungry," Silver said, tugging on his mother's sleeve.

She sighed and scooped him up, making him squeal with laughter. "I bet you are, munchkin. You've been playing hard all day. What do you want for dinner?"

"Mac and cheese," he said.

"Of course you do. What kind do you want?" she asked.

"Spiwals," he insisted.

"At least you know what you want. It's refreshing," Natasha said. She turned back to them. "The plane leaves in a week. You have until then to prepare."

Caleb nodded. She left without saying goodbye, though Silver waved at them as they went. Cassandra waved back, then went over to Caleb and crawled into his lap. She reached up and, very gently, touched his face. "Hurt?" she asked.

"A little bit. I got into a fight," he said.

Cassandra twisted herself halfway around to look at Selena. "Mommy, help Daddy!"

"I'm trying, honey. It doesn't work if he doesn't listen." Nonetheless, she got him another ice pack.

"I do," Cassandra insisted, grabbing the pack and shoving it against Caleb's face.

"Thank you, sweetie," Caleb said, putting his arms around her so she wouldn't topple over.

"We'll talk more later," Selena told him, and then went to thaw out some soup from their freezer.

While they did talk at length over the next few days, his decision stayed the same. He packed a bag for his mission and insisted, half a hundred times, that he would be back within a couple of weeks. Selena tried to talk him out of it, while Cassandra grew clingy, following him around the house and wanting to cuddle with him as much as possible. She'd experienced him being away for a few days before and hated it. She could also tell they were upset and it didn't take much to set her off. After a few days of crying jags, her sweet, high voice became a croak. He wanted to tease her about it, but as his departure time drew closer, he thought she might have the right idea. As they drove to the airfield, his doubts multiplied. What if this was a set-up? What if he never saw his girls again? What if…?

"I'm coming back," he told them and himself.

Selena's eyes were desolate. She didn't believe him. Nonetheless, as he prepared to board the plane, she hugged him tightly and buried her face against his throat. "You better. I'll never forgive you if you don't."

He kissed her. She tasted like cherry lip balm and salt. "I'll bring you back a souvenir. Maybe some of that platinum?"

"I don't care about that. We just want you," Selena said.

"I'm coming home," he repeated. He wouldn't tell her not to worry. He wouldn't ask for the impossible.

"Daddy!" Cassandra tugged on his pants. "Hug!"

He let Selena go and scooped their daughter up, squeezing her so that she squealed. He loosened his grip so he could hold her out and look at her. Her eyes and nose were red from sniffling. He rubbed his nose against hers, not caring about the snot. "It's okay. I'll be back soon."

"Tomowwow?" she said.

"A little longer than that," he admitted.

Her face screwed up. "No! Stay!"

He hugged her again, even while she squirmed and smacked her fists against his chest. "I would if I could. But this is important. Cassie, look at me." She stilled and lifted her wet face to look at him. "I love you. I'm always going to love you, no matter what. Once I'm back, I won't have to go away again. But until then, you have to promise to be good for Mommy, okay?" He held out his little finger for a pinky swear.

She stared at him, her huge grey eyes streaming with tears. Then she nodded and twined her pinky with his. "Pwomise," she said.

"That's my good girl," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then, feeling as if she was taking her heart with him, he passed her back to Selena. He met his wife's eyes and almost didn't know what to say. Almost. "Keep an eye out. Don't let anyone into the house we don't know. And if things start to look bad—"

"Worry about yourself," Selena said. Then she kissed him fiercely, as if she was expecting this to be their last kiss. He returned it with equal fervor, praying that she was wrong.

"I love you," Caleb told her after they parted to catch their breaths. "I know there are things I should have done better, but—"

She kissed him again, gently this time. "You can make it up to me when you get back." Then, much quieter, so much so that he almost didn't hear it over the din of the plane being loaded up, she said, "I love you."

He hugged them close. He didn't want to let go.

Someone cleared their throat. He looked up to find Giovanni standing there, with Caleb's apprentice a few feet behind him. "If you're done acting like I'm sending you off to war—"

"Don't," Selena snapped. "Don't even."

Giovanni sighed. "We need to clear the field." He gestured towards the viewing area, where Natasha, Silver, and even young Zachariah were waiting. There were others there who Caleb vaguely recognized—the loved ones of the other agents accompanying him, perhaps? Given the way one of them squeezed the demolition expert's ass before she threw her rucksack over her shoulder, he guessed so. Selena, with a baleful look at Giovanni, held Cassandra up so she could hug her father again, then gave him another hug as well.

"Come back," she whispered fiercely.

"I will," he vowed. Then he let them go, his chest aching as they went to join the others.

Giovanni watched them go, then turned back to face Caleb. He looked like he was considering what to say, then settled on, "You don't have to worry. I'll keep them safe."

That wasn't as reassuring as he thought it was. "If something happens to them, I'll kill you." And Caleb realized, with a dull sense of horror, that he meant it.

Giovanni's expression hardened. "As I said. They'll be safe." He held out his hand to shake Caleb's.

Caleb took and gripped it tightly enough that his knuckles went white. Giovanni didn't so much as flinch. He just nodded and went to join the crowd.

Caleb's apprentice stepped up and offered him his hand as well. Their handshake was relaxed by comparison. "You have a beautiful family," the man said.

Thrown, Caleb said, "Thank you?"

"I'll look out for them, too," the man assured him, inclining his head in Giovanni's direction.

"That's kind of you," Caleb said, at a loss. "But I'm sure he's going to keep you busy."

"I'll make time. I owe you that." Then he stepped back and said, "Good hunting."

Caleb nodded, unsettled, and reached down to grab his pack. He made his way to the plane and let himself look back at Selena and Cassandra when he was on the stairs. They were waving at him frantically, both of their faces shining with tears. His own felt wet. He waved back, then hurried to find a seat. He made sure to sit at one of the windows facing them. He watched them as long as he could, then kept watching as the ground plummeted away. He kept watching even when there was nothing to see but sky and ocean. He kept watching and kept missing them, so keenly that he thought he might be sick from it. He wanted to go home.

Two weeks. He just had to make it through two weeks. Then he'd be with them again.

---

Later, he would think, I should have listened to Selena. Later, he would think, He sent me here to die. Later, he would think, Of course he did. He hates weakness. And what else were you to him but a weakness? And later, he would think, over and over again, I want to go home.

But it would be more than a decade before he saw Cassandra again.

He would never see Selena again.

---

Thank You: To Larka, HerrWeidner, and CalicoAnne for beta-reading this chapter. Thank you as well to K9Train, Phant1ne, Mai-danishgirl, ColdEyes777, linden22, Vinylshadow, Ashora, CrossroadxOFxVesper, Leone the Infernal, BACON, Angelmander, Ferple, MewtwoMystic150, Melphina, AeyeMenethes, mmewtwo2, Artificer13, Alexandra, Lucky, Elenielwen, MoonLeArchive, D_Devil, Mar, Eiju, and the three Guests who left reviews for chapter 26. Your continued interest in this story over the years kept me going!

Author's Note: Apologies for the abrupt ending to this chapter, but this seemed like the best place to split my monstrous 124 page document in half. The good news is, the next part should drop in your inboxes this summer if the editing goes smoothly.

I'm also sorry this took me eight years to deliver to you. In my defense, I was finishing up graduate school, then a pandemic happened, and then some personal losses happened, and then this chapter just. Wouldn't. End. I went into this thinking that having Caleb's history being told in scene would be more dynamic than him summarizing it, which I do stand by—it let me dig into the tragedy of his relationship with Giovanni, as well as Giovanni's descent over time—but it also made the page count skyrocket. Fortunately, once the final part of Sins of the Father drops, we'll be able to focus back in on our leads fully. I'm very fond of Cassandra and Mewtwo's interactions in the next chapter, so you all have that to look forward to.

I do worry you might all pan this chapter, since it doesn't focus that much on them. Even if that is your reaction, though, I hope you leave your thoughts anyway. To incentivize this—because fanfic readers seem to have gotten much quieter in recent years!—I'm going to make you all a deal:

— When this chapter reaches ten reviews from different readers (actual readers, not bots), I will get up from the floor and start working on chapter 29.

— If this chapter reaches twenty reviews from different readers, I'll also work more on the two bonus AU one-shots I have in my files.

Please indulge me, dear readers, because I busted by ass writing this, and I will actually cry if I get silence in response.

And now for some author's commentary for this chapter:

— Part of what took me so long to write this chapter is that Caleb's sections originally bored me to write. Then the first Trump presidency (I can't believe I have to write first because there's a second one, kill me) happened and I started paying more attention to politics and certain parts of what I was writing started resonating. Suffice to say it became more horrifyingly engaging then.

— It was important to me to show that Giovanni did not start off as an evil person, because I don't believe that anyone does. However, how he was raised, the trauma he endured, who he had as his teacher, and his own flaws—namely, his inability to let go of his pain and anger—combined to create the villain we see in the rest of this story. He makes the choice to hurt other people because he couldn't escape the cycle of abuse and violence he was put through. At this point, it's doubtful he would have the capacity to break free of it.

— If you were side-eying Giovanni and Caleb at points in this chapter and getting romantic vibes from them, know that that was fully intentional. I don't think they wanted to sleep together, per se, but their relationship became increasingly codependent and toxic over time. It's a major reason why Caleb didn't turn on him, despite knowing that he was the metaphorical frog in the boiling pot of water.

— The Giovanni, Caleb, and Nadia trio was written as a dark reflection of Ash, Brock, and Misty's. As such, I jokingly referred to Giovanni and Caleb's quest for revenge as the "What if Misty was murdered?" subplot in my head. Granted, I don't think Ash would become a villain in response to Misty's death—not with how extended his support system is—but I can see Brock moving on much faster than he would.

— Natasha is aromantic, hence her discomfort with Giovanni's romantic gestures. They divorced before Silver was ten.

— Caleb's comment about hiding Cassandra's wings under a cloak was a nod to an early concept I had for the back-half of Angelic Shadows. In it, Maya would be hiding under a full-body cloak to conceal her appearance. To Baby Abby, this would be effective enough that Mewtwo wouldn't catch on to Maya being his (in this older version, Michael was interested in Cassandra, so Mewtwo assumed he was the father instead). While it might have been better for everyone if I'd finished Angelic Shadows in the 2000's, me working on its ending now does mean we get to dodge some very stupid plot points.

— The line about how you can't ever move past your trauma if you're always defining yourself by it was a realization I made during my healing journey. I'm definitely using it in my original fiction someday.

And that's my commentary on this chapter! As always, thank you all so much for reading. The messages you've sent through the years asking if this will continue kept me going. I promise, so long as I get some responses to this, we won't go another eight years between updates.

Until next time,

WiseAbsol