route_1065 | And when he held his wounded friend in his arms and death was all around

Entry tags:

And when he held his wounded friend in his arms and death was all around

Who:

wingless_falcon
Where: The Pokemon Center --> Southeast of Goldenrod City
When: Sunday evening.
Summary: Ken wakes up from his canon-update coma. SHIT GOES DOWN.
Rating: R for Mature Concepts and triggers. TRIGGERS. LIKE MURDER AND DEATH AND SUICIDE. STAY OUT IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT.
Log:
Ken was stirring. Only barely, but he was stirring.

His dreams were uncomfortable and dark, and of the place he had once called home. Everything felt cold on his skin, as he felt himself dropping off in the alley behind Port Island Station. The temperatures were mild, even warm, but Ken felt as if he were surrounded in ice, freezing to death with the regret and knowledge of what he had caused--even with the ability to change things. He tried so hard to stop his fingers from shaking in the deserted alley that had been bloodstained only the night before.

Suppressants.

Shinjiro had been taking suppressants. He was going to die anyway. That did not make Ken feel much better--if anything it made him feel worse. If it weren't for him, if it weren't for his mother, for his revenge, Shinjiro would not have had to die.

Conflicted feelings on Shinjiro's actions or not, Ken was certain he no longer desired Shinjiro's death. Not while the man had stood before him and thanklessly taken the shot that would have killed Ken. Not while he had seen Shinjiro's guilt tear at him so badly he felt he needed to die to fix things--at his own hands when Ken could not commit the deed.

Ken's hand twitched in the Pokemon Center as if he were trying to grab something.

He stared at the evoker in his hands. How silly SEES had been not to take it away from him. How silly they had been to give it to him in the first place. Giving an eleven year old boy power beyond most people's wildest dreams? The power to kill in one shot, the power to heal someone on the verge of death... Could that really be trusted with Ken?

He knew if they found him, the would not let him keep it.

There is no reason for him to feel regret. That is the nature of revenge.

Ken wasn't sure, now, that Nemesis would even come to his call. The goddess of Divine Retribution--would she have abandoned him when he showed mercy, when he didn't think that a life for a life was necessary? The thought scared him. Ken was alone, left behind, and maybe powerless.

He lifted the evoker to his forehead. He had to see, he had to know--would she come for him? His breath shaking, his finger rested on the trigger. Three... two... on--

The evoker clattered to the ground beside him. He couldn't do it--not... not now.

The minutes ticked away, his eyes becoming heavy, tears clinging stubbornly to his lashes, though he swore to himself that he was not crying. Darkness began to close in around the edges of his eyes. He was so very tired... but he was so sure that this was not a good place to fall asleep, his former home or not.

He thought, for only moments before darkness closed in, of the tiny home that had stood here, two years ago, and the woman who had inhabited it with him--

Do not fear, this life is but a stepping stone...

Ken's eyes flickered open. It was very bright for the back alley, he thought. Or perhaps this wasn't the back alley, and he had died there. And now he was in whatever came next.

... No, he wasn't. He couldn't be. He finally tore his eyes away from the ceiling and looked to his side.

Miles-san... The expression he regarded his friend with was something between shock and horror.

Johto... he was back in Johto.

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Miles was almost dozing in the chair he was sitting in.

His head tilted, eyelids drooping, he was staring blankly at his own hands, folded in his lap. He didn't remember the last time he slept more than three hours this whole week, and it certainly hadn't helped his fever one bit, either. His headache was worse than ever, and his hands were starting to hurt as well.

He wasn't sure what time it was, right now, but maybe he should turn the light off, and try to sleep.

But he couldn't bring himself to, his eye flickering to his sleeping friend, though his eyes wouldn't dare to look at anything more than Ken's hand. Ken's sleeping face, the eyes that wouldn't open..

It reminded him too much of that funeral. He'd been more naïve, then, angrily asking why Gregory Edgeworth's eyes wouldn't open, why the man wouldn't answer his calls... and Ken, although definitely alive, hadn't opened his eyes, either. For the past seven days, he'd slept, without a stir, and Miles couldn't even look at his face...

Ken's finger gave a twitch.

Startled, all sleep leaving his body, Miles' eyes widened, and the boy lifted his head to turn to Ken. It couldn't be--

His gray eyes met his friend's brown ones.

"...Ken."

Ken stared in silence for moments more. No... no this wasn't right this wasn't fair--! He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. He felt dried tears on his lashes--had he been crying in his sleep?

Finally, with a groan of pain, he lifted himself onto his elbows. He felt as if it had been ages since he'd moved, his muscles already beginning to deteriorate as he flexed his fingers and toes. After looking around the room for a moment (and frowning at the pokeballs on his desk--he hated keeping his team in those), he looked back at Miles. Normal. He tried to seem... normal. But there was still something off, something dead or missing, in his eyes.

"Where... am I?" His voice sounded something between groggy and rough--and very dry. How long... had he been asleep for?

"You shouldn't move so suddenly," was Miles' first response, getting to his feet and putting his hands - gently - on Ken's shoulders. The look, or lack thereof, in Ken's eyes worried him, but he stayed silent. He would ask once he was sure Ken wasn't going to collapse into a coma again.

"...You've been asleep for a week." What happened?

Miles watched his friend silently, his eyebrows furrowed.

I'm so glad you're awake.

"A week--?!" That got a reaction out of the boy. Laying back on the pillows, he turned even paler than he had been before. "What--What happened?"

It would explain things. He had been home for a week, exactly a week. Nodding off at Port Island Station had been real. Takaya, Shinjiro--SEES locking him up.

It had all been real. The cold feeling washed over him, and he was glad he was laying in bed or he was sure his legs wouldn't have supported him. He had been--

"Miles-san... how long have you been here?"

"Me?"

Miles was pouring Ken a glass of water now, Remus holding the cup for him as he poured the drink from a pitcher. As he sat himself back down by Ken, he held out the cup.

He eyed his own hands idly as he did.

The bandages.. over the last seven days, the cuts on his fingers had mostly healed, and his hands were no longer as mummified as they had been when he last spoke to Ken. He couldn't say the same for the cold (resting had not been a high priority on his agenda). Sure signs that time had passed..

"I've been here most of the week. Miss Kirijo and I took turns watching you.. why do you ask?"

Ken's voice slipped on his words, his mind scrambling to throw something together--he'd always been fast on his feet--

"You should get some rest. You don't look so good..." Ken took the water and shakily sat up again. He only had one shot of escaping today...

And everything on the inside was screaming so badly that he wanted to be gone. That he had to get out of here, to leave--forever. He didn't know where he would go, but sitting in a room with his best friend, not saying a word about Shinjiro's death, covering up that Ken had indeed caused the man to die--He couldn't take it. He felt as if his insides were splitting apart, he needed to get out.

"I'll be fine, you're the one who's been sleeping for a week."

He continued to eye Ken, trying to search the boy's expression for any clues. He was so sure that he recognized that look. Every morning, in the mirror, as he splashed cold water on his face to wash away the nightmares.

It was worrying - Miles still remembered what that look had meant, for him, where it had led..

"...You should lie down for a bit more.."

"I'll be okay, really." Lies, all of it, of course. Ken's insides were shattering as he spoke. "You can even get a nurse. I'm really okay."

It was a clock in his mind. Chest explosion in sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight....

I don't trust that look in your eyes, right now.

But Miles had wanted to be left alone, that time, as well.

"....All right." He nudged Pip, who had been perched by Ken's side on the bed. The little dog looked up at him, and then moved up to Ken's lap, where he settled.

"I'll be back then."

He offers a smile. It's small and weak, but he knew if he wanted a last memory of someone, he'd want it to be of them smiling.

"I'll be here." He sets his hand on Pip's head, scratching the puppy behind his ears.

Miles offers a small smile back. The déjà vu was sending chills up his spine as he got to his feet, eyes lingering on his small Growlithe, one hand reaching into his pocket where Pess rested there, in her Pokéball (he disliked having to keep her there, but he couldn't let a now eight-foot-tall Arcanine out inside).

"I'll go get Nurse Joy."

And with a last look at Ken, he stepped out of the room. Leaving his best friend there wasn't making him feel good at all... but he wanted to trust Ken.

The moment Miles was out of the room, Ken lifted Pip from his lap. "Sorry, boy." He gave the dog a weak smile, and swung his legs over the bed.

He almost collapsed when he tried to put weight on them--his muscles weren't used to supporting him after a week of sleep. But he grabbed onto the edge of the bed, Pip cradled carefully in one arm. He knew he didn't have a lot of time before Miles came back... he would have to grit his teeth and force his way forward. When he finally felt strong enough on his feet to walk a few steps, he examined the window....

And found it easy enough to open.

Pulling a chair from beside the bed, as silently as he could, he set Pip down on the bed.

"I-I need you to take care of Miles-san for me, okay? And my Pokemon, too. Don't let them go to bad homes..." He patted Pip's head once, climbed onto the chair, and slipped through the window.

"Yip." Is Pip's answer, one paw raised as he clings, just for a moment, to Ken's sleeve with his tiny claws.

Remus had left with Miles, and the puppy was the only one left in the room. He gets to his feet, a short bark at Ken the only sound he makes as he stares intently up at Ken - "what are you doing," he seemed to ask.

Ken gives him only a glance from the chair. "... I'm sorry." And he's gone.

He'd had a sinking feeling that Ken wouldn't stay.

Miles hadn't even tried to find Nurse Joy - the tight feeling of fear in his chest tightened with every step he took away from the room, and before he'd even reached the end of the hall, he had turned back, hurrying back to where he hoped, hoped so dearly, that Ken would be there.

But the room was empty, his best friend replaced by one open window, Pip whining up at him in a small voice.

"Ken.."

Miles' memories flashed back momentarily to the day, back home, when he woke up after his father's death. Running out of the hospital room, climbing up the stairs to the roof.. If Alessia Wright hadn't been there--

I have to find him.

Remus jumped off his trainer's shoulder as Miles climbed out of the window himself, his hand flying into his pocket and clicking the lock to the Pokéball, the large Arcanine appearing immediately and - picking up Ken's scent, understanding Miles' intentions - trotting after the trail.

I have to stop him.

It wasn't that Ken was particularly fast--in all reality, his short legs were a huge disadvantage on the fast thing, not to mention the start of muscular atrophy.

No reason to feel regret. That is the nature of revenge.

Ken was surprised he'd stopped himself from getting sick that night. But bile rose in his throat as he ran, knowing that if he wasn't fast enough someone would find him, someone would stop him.

Is it not permissible to kill those who are themselves killers?

Later, Ken would laugh at his stupidity, realizing how exactly like Shinjiro he was acting. All he could think now, though, was that he needed to set things right. That he would never be able to stand the blood that was splattered on his hands, through the actions of another.

Why could he not have died?! Why?! What part did he have to play that whatever higher being out there wanted him alive?! And why should he be a pawn in their games anymore?!

He did not realize just how far he had run until he caught his shoes filling with sand...

And realized he was outside of Goldenrod.

Running was not a good idea.

Miles' head pounded with pain as his ran, his body feeling sluggish even as he knew that he was running as fast as he could. Eventually, though, Pess bounded back to him and threw him on her back before she resumed pursuing Ken's scent. Catching his breath and clinging to her mane, Miles swallowed the lump of fear that threatened to escape his lips, the burn in the back of his throat as vile rose from his stomach.

His fever and fear-induced delusion was still giving him flashes of that day, in the hospital, as he had stood on the outside of the rooftop's fence. Phoenix's mother had stopped him, then, because she was the only one who was there for him.

He'd felt so alone, before she came. How alone was Ken, now?

"...Stupid Ken." Miles understood, so painfully, what his best friend must be feeling now. Ken had told him about what his future might hold... maybe. Maybe this had something to do with it. It made him feel even more sick, thinking about it.

He crushed his eyes shut, fighting off the headache, and when he opened them again, Pess had brought them to the edge of the beach.

The water had been the only place Nemesis would not follow him. She wouldn't step foot in the sea, and it was only after several bruises that Ken had gotten her to let him wash her.

The water had been the obvious choice.

The first step had been unbearably cold, the second just as bad. But now, waist deep, his legs burned with cold, and he could barely feel it. Waves had crashed into him, soaking him from head to toe, and he was surprised that he had no already been taken out to sea. His chest heaved with strained breaths.

His eyes were locked on the vast nothing before him, and he trembled from head to toe.

I'm going to die here.

Edited 2011-01-08 05:52 (UTC)

Leaving Pess on the sand with his jacket - he'd need it later - Miles approached Ken. It was already cold, and his body would not cease its shivering, and the moment the water touched his skin, he felt as if he'd stepped into flames instead. He almost forgot to breathe, it was so cold.

He took another, hesitant step forward before he looked up at Ken, a distance away. Alone.

What had that one book once said? A river, between this life and the other. Miles almost kicked himself for the terrible timing of these thoughts. Gritting his teeth against the cold, the fear, and anger, he pressed forward, towards Ken. Slowly, slowly..

One step. Would he be able to save him, he wondered.

A second step. Every other attempt he'd made to help someone had failed.

A third. Why would this be.. any different?

A fourth, and he reached out for Ken.

A fifth, his hand, numb from the cold, the bandages soaked and threatening to unravel, closed around Ken's wrist.

I don't want to see another person get hurt.

Ken whipped around, as best as one can do waist-deep in water. He had not expected Miles to get here in time.

"Y-y-you're not--" His teeth chattered in the cold. "You're nn-ot supposed to b-be h-h-h-h-here!"

Miles narrowed his eyes, frowning.

"Neither are you," he said, thickly. He set his jaw and clenched his free hand to keep his voice from shaking. He felt so cold, and his head was going to split any second now, he was sure of it. But he had to take Ken back, first..

Edited 2011-01-08 06:18 (UTC)

Ken stares at him for a moment in disbelief. He tugged, desperately at his wrist, to get it free from Miles' grip. He was silent, positive Miles knew what he meant by that.

Don't take this away from me--I'm so close.... so close...

Miles understood. He understood so well what Ken's actions meant. And he steeled his grip, shaking his head.

... Miles-san you can't do this to me....

He was shaking already, but his body redoubled its efforts to show it, bringing him to shivers more like convulsions. His eyes, wet with saltwater and already wet from the painful, freezing conditions of the sea, welled up again with burning tears.

You can't do this to me...

His gasps for air became different, air catching in his throat and feeling like it was trying to suffocate him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force back the tears.

His legs finally gave out beneath him and he collapsed into the water with a loud, pained sob. The water was up to his shoulders, but he barely cared, unable to taste the saltwater on his tongue as it rolled past him.

Edited 2011-01-08 06:36 (UTC)

"Ken-- you can't sit here. You're going to get sick."

But Miles made no move to force Ken to his feet. He couldn't, because he knew how Ken must be feeling. He knelt down to his friend's level, grimacing at the icy water that hit him when he did, and placed his hands on Ken's shoulders.

"Let's go back to the shore."

Come back with me.

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