| | |
"... please look after him."
"... I will."
-----
Though he promised Kisa - thrice - that he would look after Ken and she should go back to her cousin and it was getting late anyway, Miles knew that neither of them felt their worries lessen at all. Kisa's eyes lingered on Ken, and there was a pause before Miles' last, empty "don't worry" when he parted with her at Ritsu's door. She nodded, but that too was an empty promise - how could they not worry?
Franziska was less concerned; if she was she didn't show it. He wasn't sure exactly why it was that she visited, but it was a small relief to see that she was still awake and still very much herself. She left with a curt nod and her usual sniff, hair swinging as she turned and walked away after her visit. That short moment of normalcy held Miles together for the entirety of the walk back to Ken's room from the Center lobby.
Once Io was back in his arms, whining and rubbing her head into his shirt, Miles' shoulders sagged again and none of the Pokémon tried to make him smile. They crowded onto the extra bed in the room at nightfall, curled up together and went to sleep, and Pess watched over them while Nemesis claimed for herself the spot next to Ken's pillow. Miles sat in the chair by the bed, Io in his arms, but she later crawled off his lap and onto the bed, though she stayed close and bristled unless he scratched her lightly behind her ear.
Eventually Nemesis and Io fell asleep. Pess stayed awake, large eyes watching Miles, but she too lowered her head around midnight. Soon, she began to snore softly.
He sat in the dark--alone now--and watched over his best friend.
-----
"Until we can figure out what is happening... please look after him."
Mitsuru Kirijo was appropriately concerned. Composed, as she usually was, but she was either incapable of or not willing to mask the worry for her unresponsive teammate. Miles--admittedly, when he thought to contact her a small part of him hoped for her reassurance--bit back his panic and took a deep breath. Assured her instead that he wouldn't let any harm come to Ken, that if anything happened he'll let her know.
"Thank you."
He closed his eyes and gave her a smile before, hand in hand, he and Gregory Edgeworth stepped into the elevator. When he opened his eyes again after the doors slid shut, Miles already couldn't remember the face of the girl he'd been speaking to.
There was a man in the elevator with him, turned slightly away. He didn't move or raise his voice to greet them, but when Miles looked up at the man holding his hand, Gregory smiled down.
And Miles smiled up. And felt his heart swell warmly--his father was here--as the larger hand squeezed his smaller one, and he squeezed back. He almost forgot that the world would end soon.
Almost.
But when the shaking started and darkness fell, and the man in the corner tore his father away, screaming and ready to kill, he knew that the end had come. He wasn't sure if he was screaming--he probably wasn't; he could barely breathe and his body would not move an inch, for something was holding him down.
That something felt like a pair of arms around his body, and a voice muttered near his ear:
"The power just went out, it's okay. Nothing bad's happening."
... But it's not okay. Everything happening right now is bad and his father is getting murdered right now--Heather should know this already, so why is she stopping him from trying to help? Can't she hear them fighting--?! Why isn't she letting go?!
The gun fell by his feet with a clatter.
When Miles fumbled in the darkness for it, grasping it in trembling hands, he failed to realize that Heather had already melted away. He didn't even remember that he'd been unable to move, his mind only aware of Yanni Yogi trying to kill his father and the cold metal of the pistol clutched in his fingers.
Get away from him. You're killing him.
He raised his arm, brought it down in a swift arch.
Get away from him!
The gun slipped from his grip, away, into the black emptiness
there was an explosion soon after
and then there was silence.
The silence confused him--why was it silent? Where was the scream, the one that marked the end of it all? Why is it so silent? Did the bullet not hit anybody...
Perhaps, maybe, his father is still alive--?
Miles tried to scramble to his feet, determined to find him, but again he found that he couldn't move. The smoldering feeling of frustration was quick to settle in his stomach as he pushed at the floor, struggled to straighten his knees, so focused on the effort he nearly didn't hear the voice of someone speaking nearby him.
"You didn't know. It isn't your fault."
... Merlin. It was Merlin--but he wasn't there. Miles spun his head around, squinted to catch even a glimpse of the dark-haired man in the dark elevator, but there was nothing. Of course there would be nothing. Merlin was somewhere far away, helping other people. They hadn't seen each other in months, so of course Merlin wouldn't be--
"Stop blaming yourself for everything that happens to him. You're doing your best."
But it's never enough to just do your best. Miles should have been able to protect him this time, should have warned him, should have told him to be careful. It isn't enough to do his best, and it never was--Miles had never been able to be there to help Ken when Ken needed him most. The first time... the first time all Miles was able to do was to bring him back after the most terrible thing had already happened and it just wasn't enough to try his best because--
"I wish you'd just let me die."
The lights flickered back on abruptly, but the last voice faded away slowly. It was barely there to begin with: whispered, broken, angry but weak and cracking apart. Dying.
Slowly, his body filling with an unshakable feeling of dread, Miles opened his eyes. He raised his head, turning his gaze to where he should see Gregory Edgeworth's body slumped against the wall, but where he knew he would not find his father, but instead--
the orange jacket was soaked with blood
--finally, finally, the screaming came, the sound ripping in deafening silence from Miles' own throat.
-----
It was only due to months of practice that he was able to hold back the scream upon waking up.
The air conditioning kept the room cooled; the moon outside was the room's only source of light. Pess, Nemesis, and Io were still asleep where he last saw them, and Remus stirred only to snuggle closer to Romulus. He thought he saw a faintly glowing object float past the window, but when he looked back there was nothing there. Silence, broken by the sound of his panicked heartbeat. He must have broken out into a cold sweat while he slept; his shirt clung to his skin, as did his hair to his forehead.
Ken Amada was still asleep, his shirt--his shirt, not his jacket, it was much too warm to wear the jacket--perfectly clean and not a drop of blood on his being. He was... alright. Ken was not hurt.
But he wasn't waking, either, still an empty soulless shell.
Mitsuru's voice floated back to whisper in Miles' head once the panic settled, and he was painfully aware, yet again, of how terribly alone he was this time. There was nobody from S.E.E.S. to help him look after Ken. Merlin was far away and already had his hands full. Heather... Heather would have come to help no matter what she was doing had she still been in the city, but she too was away this time, in Olivine with her father. Larry was unconscious too, and the professor was even farther away--in Cianwood. Miles was alone to take care of his best friend, and there would be nobody to rely on...
He could possibly have imagined that first gasp.
Or the second, if he pretended that his shoulders weren't shaking or that his eyes weren't burning.
But by the third gasp what little he could see of Ken in the dim lighting blurred as well, and he had to raise a fist to roughly wipe at the tears that welled up. This was-- this was no time to cry.
The next gasp was unmistakably a sob, and Miles raised a second fist to scrub his eyes, but it was too late. Another sob followed soon after, and then another, and another, until he finally gave up and bit down on his sleeve to avoid waking up any of the sleeping Pokémon.
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair and it was so, so painful and scary and lonely, and he couldn't even stay strong enough. He wasn't strong enough and it was so unfair that Mitsuru would ask him to look after Ken. Or for Merlin to say that it wasn't his fault. Or for them or Heather or Layton or anybody to not be here to help him when he needed them to help.
Because it was his fault. He should have warned Ken.
Because he wasn't able to take care of Ken. If he had been, Ken wouldn't be like this now.
It was all his...
-----
He dreamed that Ken was back to normal and their fight was over. Ken was sitting up in bed and Miles was sitting in the chair, and the two of them were laughing and Io wasn't whining anymore. Nemesis thumped Ken on the head once, then crawled off the bed to go check on Polydeuces and Jason. Romulus and Remus were bouncing around happily, and Pess was smiling under all of her fur.
And things were going to be fine.
-----
He awoke to the sun shining down on him through the window, and Io was no longer the only one whining. Pip and Kirby pawed at his legs and announced their hunger insistently, then pawed at Ken's bed in concern before returning to beg for food.
And Ken was still asleep.
Kisa visited again later that day. She opened her mouth to utter a greeting, faltered, and gave Miles a terribly sad look. He didn't blame her, already aware of the bags starting to form under his eyes.
He vaguely wondered if they would ever grow permanent.
| | |
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
