Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Professor Willow stared at the smoking wreck. It had been a lighthouse once. The building had been out of commission for years, but up until an hour ago it had still been standing. Now it was reduced to a heap of smoldering wood and broken glass, courtesy of the combined might of Candela and Moltres. They were on a small island where each side dropped off in steep cliffs to the thrashing waves below. It was remote and desolate, civilization only accessible across a stretch of ocean.

Cipher agents had been here, though they had fled as soon as the leaders appeared. Blanche and Articuno had pursued them, but he could see the leader and Titan circling in the sky a ways away, which meant they had probably lost them.

Sabrina approached him across the rocks. “Find anything?” he asked her.

“There’s no sign that there is, or ever was, a Cipher lab here,” she said, which wasn’t actually an answer. “Though we won’t be able to say for certain until we put the fire out and examine what remains of the lighthouse.” He turned with her and surveyed the damage. The only people who moved among the rubble were theirs, a mixture of Rocket agents and high-ranking members of the Go Program. Willow could see their dark shapes moving through the haze as they worked to douse the flames.

“I don’t think we’ll find anything,” he said. “Not unless it’s burrowed into the rock, but that seems unlikely. There were too few of them, and some were already fleeing when we arrived.”

“And those that weren’t left as soon as Spark descended,” Sabrina added dryly. Willow remembered the look of fury on Spark’s face as he dove towards the agents, eyes devoid of mercy as he sank one submarine with a blast of lightning. He couldn’t blame Cipher for being afraid. “But they must have had some reason for being here. We have to find out what it is,” he added.

Spark was the cause of the downpour, and the lightning that cracked overhead. Except for the one strike that sank the submarine, nothing else had been hit. Willow was grateful for the rain. He wasn't dressed for it, but it would keep the fire from spreading.

Spark and Candela prowled around the remains of the lighthouse while Blanche’s Vaporeon and Gyarados worked to put out the fire. When the flames had lowered, both leaders ventured into the charred remnants. Blanche returned from their fruitless pursuit of the Cipher agents, sliding gracefully from Articuno’s back and joining the other two. Willow, Sabrina, and the others who weren’t Titan bonded stayed well back. Heat still rose in waves, and they didn’t have rapid-healing abilities or reinforced bodies like the team leaders. Willow could see Noire’s shadow pacing along the far edge of the island, Amelie’s restraining hand on their arm likely the only thing that prevented them from flinging themself through the rubble in search of clues for what Cipher had been doing here in the middle of nowhere. They had been especially touchy about Cipher ever since they had discovered that the evil organization had been cloning them for years in hopes of achieving another full transfer of their Shadow Corruption Program, and then torturing the clones.

“Professor!” Spark bellowed from somewhere in the wreckage. His voice was thick with alarm that made the other leaders pause. Willow squinted through the smoke, but could only make out Spark’s location because Candela and Blanche were both converging on him, crouching as they reached him to examine something on or close to the ground.

Willow got as close as he dared before the heat prevented him from going farther. Sabrina paused at his left elbow, blinking rapidly to clear the stinging smoke from her eyes, and they both waited anxiously (at least, Willow was anxious. As always, Sabrina didn’t let anything show on her face) for something to happen.

Spark crashed toward them, tripping and skidding on the rubble, Candela and Blanche hot on his heels. He was carrying a bundle in his arms. As he got closer, a strong wind cleared the smoke and Willow realized he was carrying a body - a child with white hair. Sabrina gave a choked gasp, but he couldn’t look away from the child to glance at her.

“Professor, did we bring a doctor?” Spark demanded. The look in his eyes managed to be worried and frightening at the same time. Willow suppressed a shudder. He didn’t envy the next Cipher agent Spark came across.

“I brought one from my team. Hang on,” Candela said, skirting around them all and running to a nearby helicopter with Valor’s logo emblazoned on the side. Her coat flew behind her like wings, blackened with ash at the ends.

Spark dropped to a crouch, the child draped gently across his lap. Blanche dropped down next to him, eyes fixed on the child’s still face, one hand raised with the fingers twitching as though desperate to touch the child but terrified of causing them further harm. Willow could see his own anguish reflected and magnified in their face.

Noire caught up, having had to run around the circumference of the island to reach them. They stopped dead when they saw what Spark was holding. “Merde,” they whispered hoarsely. They didn’t so much kneel as fall to the ground, their face turning several shades paler than usual. They inhaled and raked a shaking hand through their bangs. “I thought they were Grisaille for a second,” they whispered. They curled forward, pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes and willed themself not to cry in a rare display of weakness.

Willow felt the same way. The child was the spitting image of his own young charge, albeit with longer hair, while simultaneously throwing him back to when Blanche and Noire had been that age. It was horrifying to see the face that belonged to several people he loved look so drawn and pale, the tan skin and white hair coated in ash and soot and splattered with blood.

“Outta the way!” Candela ordered, waving a hand as her two medics rushed up with a stretcher between them. Spark’s arms tightened on the child, drawing them close to his chest while his eyes flashed gold as his instinct to protect the injured child brought his Titan to the surface. However, he did not resist when the medics lifted the child gently from his arms and laid them out on the stretcher. They watched in tense silence as the medics bore the stretcher to the helicopter and lifted it and the child inside.

“I’m going with them,” Noire blurted at the same time Blanche leaped to their feet. The elder twin made to move toward the helicopter, but Candela seized their arm.

“No Rocket is riding in my helicopter unless they’re in chains,” she snarled. Noire whirled, opening their mouth to say something scathing, but Blanche broke in.

“We can take mine,” they said. Noire and Candela both gaped at them, but Blanche wasn’t looking at either of them. They were watching their twin’s clone be secured into the helicopter, their mouth a tight line. “Professor,” they said with a stiffness they didn’t usually have when they addressed him, “I apologize, but I am needed elsewhere. Please keep me updated of anything of import that you find.”

It was only because Willow had known them since they were a child that he could sense the distress behind their cool facade. Willow laid a hand on their shoulder, hoping the warmth of the contact would help steady them. “Of course. Please keep me updated on the child’s condition. I don’t know how long this will take.”

“Understood.” Blanche gave a jerky nod, and they and Noire marched to a helicopter with Articuno’s likeness on the side, not arguing for once. Those who remained on the island watched both helicopters rise into the sky.

“All right,” Willow said once the two dark shapes had fully faded from view. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. Let’s get started.” He punctuated the statement with a clap of his hands. The sharp sound broke the others from their reveries. Reluctantly, everyone turned their eyes from the sky and went to dig through the rubble, though their hearts were elsewhere.

#

Hours later, weary in mind and body and streaked with ash and sweat, the crew returned to Opal City and parted ways to shower and change. From there, Sabrina and Willow would be meeting Blanche and Noire at the hospital to discuss the child. He had given Candela and Spark orders to check the status of their respective teams and then get some rest. They couldn’t all swarm the hospital, overwhelming the staff and alarming the child.

Sabrina was standing just outside the hospital doors when he arrived, waiting for him. Her hair was damp and had been thrown up in a ponytail. She had a coffee in each hand, one of which she held out to him when he approached. “I think we could all use some caffeine,” she said. She gave him a tired smile, which he returned with equal exhaustion. Even his facial muscles felt tired.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the coffee and taking a sip. Ah, that helped clear the mind. “For this. And for waiting for me.”

“I thought it would be best if we went in together,” she said, reading his thoughts and proceeding to kill any hopes he may have harboured that maybe she had been waiting for him out of softer feelings. Without waiting for a response, she strode into the hospital, leaving him no choice but to follow her.

They found the twins in a small waiting room at the end of a long white hallway on one of the upper floors. Noire was full of frenetic energy, pacing the length of the waiting room, as stressed by the fact that they were in a hospital as they were worried about their newest sibling. Willow was grateful that there was no one else in the waiting room, though maybe the dangerous glint in Noire’s eyes and the way they glared at anyone who looked in their direction had scared them off. Blanche was perched in a row of seats with their back to the wall so that they could see people coming and going in the hallway. Their legs were crossed, and they tapped at their tablet at a speed that told Willow that they weren’t actually reading anything on the screen. The tapping stopped when he and Sabrina approached.

“Professor,” they said, acknowledging him with a nod. Sabrina they ignored completely, not even glancing in her direction before they frowned down at the tablet in their hands.

Willow sat in the row of chairs across from Blanche. Sabrina sat next to him. “How is the child?” he asked, and took a long sip of his coffee.

“They’re out of surgery,” Noire said, snapping the words out in their stress. They dropped next to Blanche and crossed their arms across their chest. “The broken arm had to be pinned, but that went well. I also cornered a nurse who told me the cast was put on. Well, was going to be put on. The kid’s unconscious, so she asked me to pick a colour.”

“There were minimal burn injuries,” Blanche said, fingers drumming on the side of the tablet. “They were half-buried in rubble when Spark found them, and the flames hadn’t spread to that area yet. Smoke inhalation is the biggest concern right now, but the doctor said that the x-ray was clear. No broken bones other than the arm. However, they had several lacerations to their chest and leg that required stitches.” Their fingers drummed faster. “They will have to remain here for observation for at least a couple days to ensure that they don’t suffer any ill effects.” They frowned, their disapproval of keeping the clone trapped in the hospital abundantly clear.

Their sentiments were echoed by Noire. “It sucks!” they exclaimed. “They’re going to crawl the walls when they wake up and get a whiff of this place.”

Willow was inclined to agree. Grisaille had been quite docile when they were recovered, so he had some hope, but he had heard from the doctors that others in their batch – namely the Claires - had been more aggressive. They wouldn’t know which camp this child belonged to until they woke up.

“Do we have any leads on what they are and where they came from?” he asked, looking between the two.

It was Sabrina who answered. “Although they're obviously one of Noire’s clones,” she said, forcing Blanche to look at her for the first time, “we don’t know whether they are from the same group as Grisaille. I have already contacted the foster parents of the others and confirmed that all are accounted for, so it’s not that one of them was kidnapped without our knowledge.”

Willow had no idea when she’d had time to accomplish this, but he wasn’t about to complain about her efficiency.

“We also know their Cipher ID code,” Blanche said, leaning forward. “One of Candela’s medics noticed it during transport. I cross-referenced it with the data we stole when Grisaille and the other clones were recovered, and I believe that I may have found a match.” They tapped a button on the tablet, bringing it out of sleep mode, and began to swipe quickly through applications and pages of stomach-churning notes from Cipher’s labs until they found what they were looking for. “480231YD000. Designation: Rouge. The data says that they died two years ago-”

“Wait, a Rouge? The same Rouge that was killed by the Indigo?” Noire asked, green eyes going wide. Willow felt his stomach roll at the thought, but he couldn’t muster a reaction. Nothing about Cipher could surprise him anymore, it seemed. All he felt was exhaustion and dull horror, which he tried to drown with coffee.

Blanche nodded, frowning at their screen and fighting to keep their own emotions hidden. They weren’t succeeding, but Willow decided against pointing out that they had frozen their chair legs to the floor.

“According to the report, they and two Verts were in the arena with the Indigo when it suffered a psychotic break,” they said. “One of the Verts was dead on the scene, and the Rouge and other Vert succumbed to their injuries in the middle of the night.”

“Well, obviously the Rouge didn't die,” Noire scoffed.

“The records say that they did.” Blanche flipped a page on their tablet. “Their death was entered into the system at 0100 hours. The body was subsequently removed for disposal.” They glanced up. “The notes end there.”

“Hang on,” Noire said. “If the Rouge is dead, then who the hell is that kid?” They gestured in the general area of the rest of the ward.

Blanche shrugged. “We’ll have to ask them, once they awaken and are lucid enough to speak.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem like it’s going to be happening anytime soon,” Sabrina said briskly. “We’ll have someone stationed at the hospital in shifts. You two should get some sleep.”

“I’m staying!” both twins said at once. Willow and Sabrina exchanged a look. Both had known this would happen.

“You two have been here for hours already,” Willow said, sighing internally when two powerful glares transferred from Sabrina to him. “So you can consider this the end of your first shift. Annie has volunteered to take the next one, and she should be arriving in a few minutes.”

The twins argued long enough for Annie to arrive. She kicked her boss out and Sabrina forcibly removed Noire with a hand on their ear, assuring them that nothing would happen that night as she dragged them in the direction of the door. Maybe it was precognizance that made her say that, because it was true that nothing happened that night. The child did not regain consciousness until the next morning, and then they faded in and out, seeming not to notice anything around them.

#

Sabrina and Willow sat on opposite sides of the desk in Willow’s office. As per usual, they were arguing.

“I think it is very ill-advised for you to take them,” Sabrina said. She raised a hand to forestall Willow’s retort. “Not because you are an improper guardian or anything of the sort, or I would have taken Grisaille from you a long time ago. But you have to consider where this child came from. Putting them and Grisaille together when they grew up in an environment where they were forced to fight to the death against their fellows... I don’t think it’s wise.”

“I understand that,” Willow said, biting off each word and hating that he couldn’t be as calm as she always seemed to be. That was one of many reasons they had separated the other children out in the first place. “But Grisaille’s come a long way. I don’t think they’ll attack the child.”

“Perhaps not unprovoked,” Sabrina conceded, though she looked doubtful. “But we don’t know anything about this child. You could never leave the two of them out of your direct line of sight for fear of them hurting each other.”

“Grisaille spends too much time alone or with adults,” Willow said. “They need someone their own age-”

“But that person doesn’t have to be this child, and even if you’re set on that, they don’t have to live in the same house.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, the first sign she had shown that the argument was wearing on her. They’d been having it since they’d left the hospital the previous day. He had no doubt that she was cursing his hopeless optimism and lack of sense. As if he didn’t know where this was going. She had argued that she should be the one to care for Grisaille, and now she was attempting to move in on this child as well. And he couldn’t be sure if it was out of love for the twins she had raised or as an acquisition for Team Rocket.

“I can hear you, you know,” she said. Her tone was deceptively mild, and he jumped at the reminder that he shouldn’t let his guard down around a psychic. “And I do appreciate your concern, truly. But if I took them, they and Grisaille could have access to each other without territorial disputes.”

“You seem to take it for granted that there will be any problems at all,” Willow snapped. “Shouldn’t we give them a chance before jumping to conclusions?”

“Spoken like a true scientist,” she said. She took a sip of coffee from the mug in her hands to find that it had grown cold while they were arguing. Well, that was as sure a sign as any that this bickering was pointless. She set the mug aside. “Fine. But you must remember that they are dangerous. If they do fight, it could escalate quickly and become fatal.” She waited a beat for that to sink in, but continued speaking before he could argue. “Fine,” she repeated. “But if it doesn’t work out, I get the Rouge. And please, try to ensure they don’t kill each other.”

Willow didn’t get a chance to celebrate his victory before both of their cellphones started ringing, hers a beat behind his. They both pulled them out and shared a look.

“Spark,” Willow said.

“Amelie.”

Go was currently on guard duty at the hospital, so he would report directly to Spark if anything happened. The hospital was affiliated with Team Rocket, and he had heard Sabrina order them to contact Amelie in the event of an emergency.

He answered the call. “Hello, Spark. Is there a problem?”

“Hey, Professor! Little Roo woke up!” Spark said. He sounded cheerful, if slightly breathless. “I’m on my way to the hospital now.”

“Roo?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Sabrina glanced up from her own conversation to raise her eyebrows back.

“Yeah! Short for Rouge! They need to be called something other than ‘kid’ before we figure out what their name is. Roo’s a good placeholder.”

“Got it. Are you just calling to let me know they’re conscious?” Willow asked, hoping to steer Spark back on topic.

“Ah, no. See, as soon as they woke up, Roo made a desperate bid for freedom. They took out two nurses and an orderly before attempting to leap out a second floor window. Go tackled them before they could jump. He says no one was seriously hurt and the kid’s barricaded themself in a room without windows, but they’re still screaming and throwing things so no one can get close to them. I’m gonna go help restrain them.”

“Got it,” Willow said. “I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone with a sinking heart. Apparently this child was not going to be as docile as Grisaille.

Sabrina’s call had ended before his. “Apparently the child is wreaking havoc,” she remarked as though this were nothing to be alarmed about.

Willow allowed himself the luxury of heaving a deep sigh and raking his hands through his hair before pushing to his feet. “We’d better go. If they’re alert enough to run around, they’ll be alert enough to talk to us. I want to get there before the hospital staff resort to sedating them,” he said, grabbing his coat and heading for the door. Sabrina slipped her own coat over her shoulders before following.

“Amelie’s given them orders not to,” she said, catching up. “But if the child escapes from the room and attacks the staff again, they won’t have a choice.”

Willow nodded, pushing the button for the elevator and waiting impatiently for it to arrive. He pulled out his phone to call Blanche. It went straight to voicemail. He tried Candela next.

“Hey, Professor,” she said before he could say anything. “We already heard. Blanche is en route to the hospital. I volunteered to hold down the fort.”

He smiled and stepped into the elevator as the doors slid open. “Thank you, Candela. Please call me if there’s anything that requires my attention.”

“Will do, Professor. Good luck with the kiddo.”

She disconnected the call, and he and Sabrina stepped out of the elevator on the main floor. “Let’s take my car,” Sabrina said. “It’s closest.”

#

They arrived at the ward where the child was staying to find chaos. Several people sported cuts and bruises. A man in nurse’s scrubs sat with his back against the wall, holding a wad of paper towels to his gushing nose. The path the child had taken was marked with overturned equipment and scattered papers. A doctor approached them, apparently unperturbed by the disarray. “Leader Spark said you would arrive soon,” he said, giving them both a respectful nod. “The mite’s trapped in the break room. Poor kid’s terrified. This way.”

They followed him down the corridor. Go, Spark, Blanche, and Noire were grouped around a door all the way at the end. Spark waved when he spotted them.

“Here, Professor! Thanks, Doc,” he said. He shot the doctor a grin and got a grunt in response before the doctor turned back the way he had come.

Spark had said that the child was screaming and throwing things, but there was no sound coming from the other side of the door at all. The adults stared at it as they considered what to do. “This is a dead end, so if we block the hall, they won’t be able to get by,” Spark suggested after a moment.

This seemed to be a good plan. They had taken two steps into position when the door burst open and the child darted out. Their bare feet skidded on the floor and their green eyes went wide with horror as they halted, realizing they were cornered. It must have seemed to them as though they were facing a solid wall of adults. They were the same size as Grisaille, shoulder-length white hair tangled around their face. Their left arm was in a blue cast. Their right arm was bare except for a burn scar that climbed from the back of their hand to disappear under the short sleeve of their hospital gown. The child stared at them all in mute alarm before they whirled and sprinted back into the room.

“They were going to make a break for it again,” Go said, shaking his head. One side of his face sported a large bruise and there were scratches from his chin down to his neck from the child fighting him.

“Yeah. Good kid,” Noire said, unmistakable pride in their voice. They ventured, grinning, over to the door that the child had left ajar in their haste to get away. “Hey, little one,” they cooed in French, crouching just outside the door. Their gaze was angled slightly downward. When Willow went to stand behind them, he saw why.

The child was on their hands and knees under one of the tables, staring at the adults through the legs of an overturned chair. The other table had been overturned, as had all the chairs. One had been smashed against a wall, next to a shattered coffee machine. Willow inwardly winced at the sight, resolving to buy the hospital a replacement as soon as possible. If anyone needed copious amounts of coffee, it was the medical profession.

Noire slid forward on their knees until they were just inside the doorway, their eyes transfixed on the child. Their face had softened in a way that Willow rarely saw from them. “It’s okay. You’re safe. No one here will hurt you. And if they try, they’ll have to go through me.” Noire stabbed a thumb at their own chest and smiled encouragingly.

The child stared at Noire, eyes wide. Remarkably, though, something about Noire’s appearance seemed to reassure the child. At least, they loosened their grip on the chipped mug they were clutching in their good hand to use as a weapon to ward off would-be attackers.

“Is it okay if I come closer?” Noire asked. The child shook their head, retreating further under the table until only their face was visible peering from the darkness. They had smashed half of the lights, and the room was quite dark. “Okay, cool,” Noire said. “I’ll just talk to you from here. Would that be okay?”

The child’s brows furrowed. Willow wondered if they’d ever had someone ask their opinion before. The child’s lips were pursed as they considered the request. Otherwise, their expression did not change, which made it hard to tell what they were thinking.

Something brushed against Willow’s back, and then Blanche was squeezing into the space next to Noire, who shuffled to the side to give them more space.

The child’s eyes narrowed as they glanced between the two identical faces. “May I ask a question?” they asked. They scooted backwards again, as though they expected to be punished for their nerve.

Noire beamed, delighted to have succeeded in getting a verbal response. “Sure!”

The child braced themself for the worst, their shoulders hunching around their ears in a way that was very familiar to the three adults. Are you clones too?”

“No,” Blanche said. The child’s eyes flicked to them. “We were born together.”

The child opened their mouth, then froze and shut it quickly. “It’s okay,” Noire assured them. “You can ask as many questions as you like. We don’t mind.”

The child’s eyes flicked from Blanche back to Noire. “Are there... Are there more of you?” they asked. Their voice was so quiet that the others had to strain to hear them.

“No. Just us two,” Noire said.

The child frowned. “Only two?” Something about the answer was bothering them. Willow wished Sabrina would come closer. Maybe she would be able to pick up what was on their mind. But she was further away, murmuring with Go and Spark but keeping a watchful eye on the door. She shrugged a shoulder when she saw him looking. 'You said you could handle them,' she reminded him without saying the words aloud. She was right, so Willow turned his attention back to the child.

“There are many of you cloned children,” Willow told them gently. “But Blanche and Noire are twins, not clones. There are only two of them.”

“Oh.” The child still looked doubtful, but didn’t contradict him. They bit their lip. “I can ask as many questions as I like?”

“Yes.”

“Where is this?” They asked, their voice dropping to a whisper. They kept glancing uneasily at Willow, who made them the most nervous. Because he was older?

“You’re at a hospital,” Blanche answered. “In Opal City.”

The child shifted forward slightly to see Blanche better, though they continued to watch Willow out of the corner of their eye. “I do not know where that is,” they admitted.

“What places do you know?” Noire asked. Willow was impressed - it was a clever way to ask where the child had been before they found them.

“Orre and Kalos,” the child answered promptly. They crawled closer, emboldened because the adults had kept Noire’s promise not to come close. “Is Opal City close to there?” They asked. They startled and withdrew back under the table. Willow glanced around, but couldn’t see what had alarmed them.

“Erm, not really,” Blanche said. “It’s quite far away from both of those places.” Not to mention that the two regions the child had named were nowhere near each other, either.

“Oh.” The child deflated.

“May I ask you a question now?” Willow asked. The child’s gaze snapped from Blanche to him. He almost regretted re-entering the conversation because of the alarm it caused them. After a pause, they nodded once. “What’s your name?” Then, remembering that they might not have a concept of what a name was, he asked: “What are you called?”

The child stared at him, their face half hidden by shadow. Enough time passed that he was beginning to wonder if they understood the question when they sighed. “I was previously called 480231YD000. Designation: Rouge,” they said reluctantly. “But I prefer,” they put strong emphasis on ‘prefer’, as if it were a rebellion to even use the word, “to be called Merle.”

“Merle?” Noire repeated, clearly not thrilled by the name. Blanche elbowed them.

“It’s a fine name,” Blanche said firmly. They elbowed Noire again in case their twin decided to make a smart remark.

“I prefer it,” Merle repeated, again with the strange emphasis on ‘prefer’. They clearly meant it as a challenge, but flinched and looked away as soon as Noire met their eyes. The nervous way their fingers drummed on the floor told Willow that although they had challenged Noire, they lacked the courage to back it up and wouldn’t actually resist if someone tried to change their name.

It made his heart hurt that they would let their name be taken from them without fuss.

“I’m Noire,” Noire said, deciding that proper introductions were in order. “This is Blanche, and that’s Professor Willow. There’s more people in the hallway who’d love to meet you. How ‘bout you come out so I can introduce you?”

Willow’s spine stiffened. This might not be the best time to invite the child out. They hadn’t even ventured out of the shelter of the table. He would have waited until the child was more relaxed, but Noire had never been a patient person. They were smiling encouragingly at the child.

“Will they hurt me?” the child asked, voice a whisper, but their tone matter-of-fact. If they were afraid, it didn’t show.

“No.” It was Blanche who answered. Their voice was low and fierce. Willow looked down at them and was surprised to see fire in their eyes. “I will not allow anyone to harm you.” Their hands clenched, trembling, on their thighs. They’ve changed, Willow realized. They’ve changed since Grisaille came.

The child examined them for a long moment, expression solemn. They flinched when Blanche met their eyes, but didn’t look away. Finally, they leaned forward and crawled out from under the table and around the smashed bits of broken chair. Their gait was awkward, their progress hampered by the cast on their arm. Both twins twitched as though they were going to get up and help but restrained themselves at the last moment, watching the child struggle to their feet as they cleared the debris. Merle was pale and swayed slightly where they stood. Willow realized that was why they had given in: overwhelmed by pain and exhaustion, they had no strength left to fight.

Noire stood and crossed to the child in three strides. Their hands twitched forward, itching to touch, to reassure, but knew that Merle would not find touch reassuring. They tucked their hands in their pockets instead.

“Come on, little one,” they said. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Merle got a lot of visitors over the next couple days. Blanche and Noire were the most frequent, and in fact seemed to have an unofficial competition about who could come see the child the most. Noire brought them sweets, partially because they loved sweets and couldn't imagine anyone not loving them, and partially because the child looked so frail and bony that it made their heart ache. Blanche, not to be outdone but with no idea what might please a child, brought them a vase full of bright tulips. Merle was quietly thrilled, shyly stealing glances at the flowers throughout Blanche’s visit. Encouraged, Blanche kept bringing them flowers, filling the room with bright blooms until it looked more like a flower shop than a hospital. In their heart it was an apology gift. They wanted to snatch the child from the horrid hospital, but reluctantly accepted that the child had to heal first.

Today both twins were going to be present. Willow had specifically asked them, because today was the first time he was bringing Grisaille to visit. Now that Merle was more alert and didn’t seem to be in as much pain, Willow thought that they would feel less threatened.

Grisaille walked beside him, their hand tucked into his. Being in the hospital made them nervous, though they did their best not to show it. Still, their shoulders hunched when passing nurses smiled at them. Otherwise, they appeared calm, though Willow knew that meeting one of their follow clones after so many months was stressing them out. They were staring straight ahead as they walked. He had stressed to them the importance of not frightening Merle, but he was worried about how this would go.

It was too late to back out. Blanche and Noire were waiting outside Merle’s room as he had requested. He thought it would be best if they all went in together so that Grisaille’s entrance didn’t seem like such a big event.

Noire beamed at the sight of Grisaille. As they were a member of Team Rocket and not part of the Go Program, they had limited access to their little sibling. “Hey, Grisaille!” They said, coming over and extending their hands for Grisaille to take, which they did.

“Hello, Noire,” Grisaille replied demurely. They gave Noire’s hands a polite squeeze before releasing them. “How are you today?”

“Great! How about you? Nervous?”

Grisaille paused, considering. “Perhaps,” they admitted. “I do not expect that they will be happy to see me. We were not friendly.”

Which was one way of putting it. Forced death matches weren’t friendly at all.

Blanche came to stand at Noire’s side. They offered Grisaille a thin smile, though they were always less sure of their interactions than their more outgoing twin. “We have explained to Merle that you two are not required to duel, now or at any point in the future. So I do not believe they will attack you,” they said.

It was hard to tell if Grisaille found this reassuring. They were very stoic and hard to read, much like Blanche, but without their older sibling’s fits of temper. They merely nodded and stared at the closed door in front of them, waiting for someone else to open it.

Eventually, the professor did, reaching across their body to turn the knob and lead the way into the room. Grisaille followed right behind him, staring submissively at the ground. They glanced up and jolted, eyes wide as they took in all the flowers.

Merle was sitting upright in bed, turning a white rose between their fingers as they watched the others enter. They studied Grisaille with particular wariness, as though they, too, were not convinced the other clone would play nice.

“Hey, Merle, we’re back!” Noire said, bouncing in and claiming the sole chair by the bed before any of the others could. “Feeling any better?”

“Good afternoon, Noire,” Merle replied. They had turned their attention back to the flower and watched it as it twirled. “The doctor advises that there has been no change in my condition since yesterday.”

Noire’s smile slipped, but before they could explain to Merle that wasn’t what they’d meant, Professor Willow broke in.

“Good afternoon, Merle,” he said, smiling and gently fishing Grisaille from behind him. “If you remember, we said we’d bring a friend to meet you today. Maybe you remember Grisaille from... before?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say “from the labs” or “from Cipher.”

Merle glanced up briefly, to be polite, before returning their gaze to the rose. “I recall our conversation,” they said. “You told me that they are the Vert. You did not specify which one.” Now they did look up, properly examining Grisaille. They shrugged. “They all look the same to me.”

Willow glanced at Blanche, but Mystic’s leader looked as uncertain as he felt. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when they brought Grisaille in here, but he had expected some kind of reaction, at least. Merle seemed entirely disinterested.

He felt movement at his side and glanced down. Grisaille was taking a tentative step forward. They opened their mouth to speak, then closed it quickly, looking up at Willow for permission. He nodded, indicating that they should go ahead. Grisaille turned to face Merle, squaring their thin shoulders.

“Good afternoon,” they said softly, speaking in English. The others glanced at each other. They had only ever spoken to Merle in French. “My name is Grisaille. I am pleased to meet you again.” They gave a jerky nod, as though reluctant to take their eyes off the other child. “I am told you will be coming to live with us.”

“Hello. I am Merle,” Merle replied in heavily-accented English, but even that was a surprise. Where had they learned it? “I am not pleased to see you, but I understand that my discomfort is not your fault or mine.” They bit their lip and dropped their gaze to their hands, which were clutching the rose too tightly. They deliberately relaxed their grip, letting the broken stem fall to the sheets covering their lap.

Willow’s heart sank at the frank honesty, but Grisaille accepted the rejection with grace. “I understand,” they said, venturing another cautious step closer. “I am uncomfortable as well, but I would like to try to be friends.”

Merle did not answer, merely frowning at the flower. Willow decided now was a good time to reenter the conversation.

“So, Merle,” he said cheerfully, switching to English. “The doctor says you’re doing much better and you can be discharged in a couple days.” He moved to stand at their bedside. Blanche had already gone to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Noire, so he stood next to them, Grisaille trailing behind.

“What does ‘discharged’ mean?” Merle asked politely.

“Released from the hospital,” Blanche replied. They inched closer to the bed. They switched back to French. “Are you all right? You seem... sad,” they said, fumbling for an appropriate adjective.

It was true. Willow had assumed the child’s quiet demeanor and lack of engagement was a result of their recent traumatic experience. Now he took in the slump of their shoulders and the way their head hung forward, the dark shadows under their eyes, and the unhappy way their lips pressed together, and realized that Blanche was right.

Merle looked at Blanche and raised their shoulders in a slow shrug. Now Blanche did reach out they way they had longed to from the beginning, smoothing Merle’s hair out of their face.

“I’d be down too if I had to stay in the hospital for a week,” Noire said, which wasn’t quite true. Noire would have broken out after a day. They reached into their pocket and presented the child with a small wooden puzzle cube. “Spark got you another one and asked me to deliver it. It’ll give you something to do.”

Merle accepted the small cube and turned it over in their hands. “Thank you,” they murmured, and simply continued to hold it. Noire’s disappointment at their lack of interest was obvious, but they didn’t comment.

Blanche continued to stroke Merle’s hair. Now that they’d started, they couldn’t seem to stop. Merle didn’t seem to mind, which pleased Blanche. Grisaille stood silently in the corner, looking forlorn. Willow wondered if they felt jealous of all the attention Merle was receiving, or if they even had enough sense of self to feel jealousy.

There was a knock on the door and a nurse entered bearing a meal tray. She smiled when she saw the guests. “Hello there,” she said, sliding carefully next to Noire. “Mind putting the table across the bed for me? Thanks,” she said as Noire stood and swung the narrow table across the bed and arranged it across Merle’s lap. Merle lifted their arms so that they wouldn’t be hit, grabbing their flower before the table blocked it. The nurse placed the tray on the table and took the covers off the plates. Once she had everything set up, Merle rested their heavy cast on the tray to take the weight off their arm.

“Isn’t it a bit early for dinner?” Blanche asked.

Noire answered. “They’re underweight, so they get small meals more frequently. You wouldn’t know because you take the night shift with them.” Since Blanche was naturally someone who stayed up later and woke up later, they would sit at Merle’s bedside while the child slept - or tried to sleep - and work on their reports. This system worked for them. “It’s to help them put on weight without making them sick.”

The nurse left and Merle obediently set their rose aside and picked up their fork in their scarred hand, eyeing their small plate of chicken a la king dully. “You have to eat it, mon petit chouchou,” Noire said sternly. Willow glanced at them in surprise - he wasn’t usually around for mealtimes either - and watched as Merle nodded and dug the fork into the food. When they simply held the forkful of food at face-height, Noire sighed and leaned over, plucking the fork from their fingers.

“Open up,” they ordered. Merle accepted the bite of food, though it was clear that they didn’t want to. Noire continued to feed them, and the child ate robotically. It quickly became apparent that they were getting no enjoyment out of the meal, and that Noire was used to feeding them and cajoling them to eat.

“They eat better in the morning, Spark says,” Noire said, noticing the way Professor Willow was watching them. Spark, the quintessential early riser, was usually there during breakfast, though he likely arrived just after Blanche left at four in the morning. “Though that might just be because of Spark. He says they’re a little scared of him.” With the food gone, Noire set down the fork and Merle looked relieved. Noire peeled the foil off the small carton of orange juice and held it to the child’s lips. They raised their eyebrows when the child tried to turn their face away, and Merle quickly acquiesced, taking the carton. They downed the juice quickly and set the carton down.

“Good. Thank you for eating all your food,” Noire said in the disgusting coo they usually reserved for Petit, their Eevee. They took the dinner shift, and knew the struggle of trying to get the child to eat. They ruffled the child’s hair, then stood with reluctance. “I have to go. I have a meeting. I’ll be back in a couple hours to feed you dinner, though!” They told Merle, who frowned.

Noire pretended not to notice, going around the bed to ruffle Grisaille’s hair as well. “I’ll see you around, kiddo,” they said. Grisaille returned their smile with a slightly smaller one. Noire didn’t say anything to Blanche or Willow before they departed, and Willow saw Blanche’s fists clench at the snub. Having two small siblings to bond over didn’t seem to have repaired their relationship at all.

Blanche and Willow stayed for another hour, trying to coax the two children into interacting. Grisaille tried, to their credit, but had no idea how to interact with other humans, especially not other humans their own age. Merle offered nothing but a stone wall of dispassion. They picked apart the rose so that when the nurse came to retrieve the tray it was covered in white petals and shredded strips of stalk. Eventually, Willow gave up for the day. Though they didn’t complain, he could tell that Grisaille was tired. Blanche was frustrated and growing sharp with Merle because they hated it when people didn’t act the way they wanted them to. Soon they would start snapping at the child, which would only damage the relationship they were trying to forge.

Willow bid goodbye and shepherded Blanche and Grisaille out the door. Merle politely said goodbye, but it was automatic rather than heartfelt. When Willow glanced back, they were shredding another flower.

Blanche paused just outside the hospital doors, staring at the sky. Willow looked back to see that they were frowning. “Something wrong, Blanche?” he asked, backtracking a couple steps. Grisaille hovered nearby.

Blanche shook their head. “Not exactly, Professor. It’s just...” they bit their lip. Blanche didn’t usually confide in him, and Willow wondered if they were reconsidering doing so now. “I suppose I’m disappointed,” they admitted. “I thought they would have warmed up to me by now. They seemed to like the flowers, and I spend hours with them every night, rubbing their back to try and get them to sleep...” Willow hadn’t known that. He would have to have a talk with the others and let them know that they were supposed to report things like the child not sleeping and refusing to eat except under duress.

Before he could reassure them that the bond would come, they just had to be patient and keep working at it, they shook themself and they were instantly businesslike. “Nevermind, Professor. I know I’m being ridiculous,” they said.

“Blanche,” Willow said, stopping them before they could storm into the night. They turned back to look at him, waiting. “It’s not silly to want someone to like you,” Willow told them quietly, “so don’t think that. Just remember that they’ve been traumatized and indoctrinated by Cipher. It’ll take them longer to warm up. Don’t forget how long it took you.”

Blanche glanced away. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” they said. “Have a good night, Professor.”

They stuck their hands in their pockets and marched to the far corner of the parking lot where their motorbike was parked. Willow watched them go and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was sure that Blanche and their siblings put more grey in it with each passing day.

“Well,” he said, looking down at Grisaille. “Shall we go?”

#

Finally, the day came for Merle to be released from the hospital. Everyone was relieved. The daily visits to the hospital and hours-long vigils at Merle’s bedside were wearing on everyone, especially those with a phobia of all things related to the medical profession. The load would have been lighter if any of the leaders had been willing to entrust trainers other than their assistants to watch over the little one, but there was far too much protectiveness and possessiveness involved for that to be possible.

Willow had spent whatever time he wasn’t working or visiting Merle or bonding with and educating Grisaille getting his spare room ready for its newest inhabitant. Grisaille even helped, carting out boxes and assembling a bed and furniture with surprising speed. Like most people, Willow was often baffled by assembly instructions and only pieced together furniture when he had no choice, but Grisaille leaped into the task with relish. It was a puzzle that they had to solve, and they had to accomplish it in the shortest time frame possible. The end result was that all the furniture was put together in a day, whereas it would have taken three days for Willow to build it alone, largely due to frustration breaks.

“Well done,” he said, clapping the child on the shoulder before he could think better of it. They jumped at the contact, but seemed surprised and pleased by the praise.

“Do you think Merle will be pleased?” they asked shyly, shoulders hunching further forward with each word that left their mouth.

Well, he had to be honest. “Not much seems to please Merle right now,” he said. “But I think they’ll appreciate our efforts.” He hoped so, anyway.

Blanche and Noire had decided that they would go pick up the child at the hospital and bring them to Willow’s house independent of Willow’s wishes. He had shrugged and left them to it. Grisaille moved anxiously about, accomplishing little but fluttering their hands a lot. They had picked up on Willow’s desire to make the place welcoming, but they didn’t know how to help him accomplish this. An engine pulled up the house and they stilled instantly, panicked eyes darting over to Willow. They scrambled to sit on the couch in the living room, head bowed and hands twisting in their lap.

Footsteps tromped up to the house and Blanche, Noire, and Merle came through the front door, Merle between the older two. They glanced around, eyes wide and mouth clamped tightly closed. Their good hand was clutching the cast around their opposite arm. They toed their shoes off at the entryway and nodded politely to Willow and Grisaille.

“Did everything go smoothly?” he asked, smiling at the three of them.

“Yes, Professor,” Blanche said. “Merle was perfectly well behaved.”

“Yeah! I bet they were eager to get out of that dump,” Noire said, slinging their arm affectionately around Merle’s neck. Merle frowned at the contact, but did not move away. They glanced around the room without turning their head, as though blatantly looking around would be rude.

Professor Willow smiled at them. “Welcome, Merle. How about I show you your room?”

There was a pause, during which Merle glanced uncertainly up at Noire. “I cannot move with Noire holding me,” they said finally. Noire released them immediately, and they obediently followed Willow down the hall. Willow held the door open and motioned for them to go in first. They hesitated, not liking the thought of being boxed in, but obeyed. They shuffled reluctantly through the door and looked around.

Willow hadn’t done anything fancy with the room. The bed was wood and plain, set into the corner rather than the middle of the room since Merle hadn’t liked having people approach them from both sides in the hospital. A fluffy white duvet covered the pillow and mint green sheets. The walls were bare, as he didn’t want to take the liberty of doing their decorating for them. Maybe someday they would choose their own embellishments. A dresser sat in the corner opposite the bed, which Candela had taken great glee in filling with all kinds of clothes that Willow hadn’t bothered to look through, but he trusted her not to dress his charge in anything too outlandish. From what he had seen while she was busily cutting off tags, laundering, and folding the clothes, they looked tasteful.

He had also put a desk with a lamp next to the dresser, along with a little bookshelf. There were only a couple books on the shelf. He had given Blanche the task of finding appropriate books for the child, which had been a mistake. Blanche had so little faith in their own ability to choose appropriate reading material that they had stalled out, tossing a book on gardening, a book on marine life, and three issues of one of the dreadfully dull research publications they subscribed to on the shelves at the last minute. Spark had taken pity on them and tucked a few children’s books and a simple cookbook on the shelf to make it look less sad. Even so, the shelves were almost completely bare. Still, Willow reasoned that it could be easily remedied once he found out what the child liked.

He didn’t realize how nervous he was until Merle had completed their solemn examination and turned back to look at him. He fought the urge to ask what they thought, which he was sure would earn him a blank stare, and smiled encouragingly at them.

“This is where I am to sleep?” Merle asked in English, folding their hands carefully in front of them. Willow wished their face was a little more expressive. It was hard to tell if they hated it or not.

“Yes,” he said, for lack of a better response.

“I see.” They looked around again. “By myself?”

The question caught him off guard, and he glanced at the other two to see that Blanche was frowning thoughtfully. “Are you accustomed to sleeping with someone else?” they asked.

Merle nodded without looking at them. They were picking at their cuticles.

Blanche opened their mouth, then closed it with a wince and looked helplessly at Noire, unable to bring themself to ask what they needed to ask. Noire met their gaze and sighed, understanding what they wanted.

“Did you share with anyone while you were in Cipher’s labs?” they asked, shoving their hands in their pockets. They looked thoroughly uncomfortable. Neither of the twins liked talking about Cipher. Up until the point Grisaille had entered the picture, they had done their best to avoid mentioning more than the bare minimum to Spark, Candela, and their own assistants, leaving their friends to guess their way around their myriad of triggers and peculiar hangups. Though, Willow thought, glancing at Noire, Amelie probably knew more than the others.

Merle stilled at the question. “I shared my cell, if that is what you are asking,” they said, speaking slowly with careful enunciation.

“Did you get along with your, er, roommate?” Noire asked.

“No.” They grabbed one of the books at random and sat at the edge of the bed. Their hands clutched the book so tightly that the cover started to bend, and they avoided looking at the adults. They clearly wanted to end the discussion, but didn’t dare bury their face in the book and ignore their elders, no matter how much they wanted to.

“Merle shared with the Indigo,” Grisaille said from behind them. They all jumped - they hadn’t heard Grisaille come down the hall, so they had all assumed that they had stayed in the living room. Grisaille peeked through the cluster of bodies in the doorway to examine their counterpart. “The Indigo...” they began, then paused as they considered what they wanted to say. “The Indigo was not stable,” they decided. “They hurt other subjects even when it was not a designated training time or a duel.”

Blanche remembered reading about the Indigo, their fate, and their connection to Merle in the reports they’d lifted from Cipher. They had no desire to make Grisille recount the fact that the Indigo had lost their mind and slaughtered other subjects, including, supposedly, Merle, before ultimately self-destructing. They could not, in good conscience, allow this conversation to continue without interruption. “Well, no one will force you to share a room here,” they said briskly, crossing to Merle and snatching the book from their hands before they could snap it in half. They slid the book back into the shelf and turned around.

If they had expected Merle to be reassured, they were disappointed. Merle was frowning down at their hands, which were still positioned as though they were holding the book. Blanche sighed. “Perhaps we ought to go,” they said reluctantly. “Give them some privacy to get adjusted. The last few weeks haven’t been restful for them.”

Noire protested, but Blanche dragged them bodily out the door. “It’s not about what you want, it’s about what they need,” they said severely. “And right now they need peace.” The front door slammed behind the twins, leaving Willow alone with Grisaille and Merle.

He smiled at them. “Well, Grisaille and I should go start dinner,” he said, deciding to take Blanche’s advice about giving Merle some alone time to explore and get settled in. “Why don’t you take a look around? We’ll just be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Merle nodded politely, still staring into the middle distance. They hadn’t moved since Blanche snatched the book from their hands.

“The bathroom is down the hall on the left,” Grisaille said helpfully as they followed the Professor out. They waited for Merle’s nod, then closed the door quietly behind them.

##

The next week passed uneventfully. Merle did not stir up trouble, but nor were they easy to live with. Unless Willow had a specific task for them to do in the common parts of the house, they hid in their room and only ventured out under direct orders. Otherwise, the only time he saw them was when they dashed quickly from their room to the bathroom and back, hugging close to the wall and jumping when addressed.

Even when he ordered them out for meals, getting them to actually eat was a chore. He preferred mealtimes to be social times, where he coaxed the children into talking to him and tried to maintain some semblance of a conversation, but these days he expended most of his energy on making sure Merle actually ate. If he didn’t order every bite, they would simply stop and stare at their plate. The only good thing was that they didn’t bother trying to trick him by pushing food around to make it look like they’d eaten more than they had or pretend to eat mouthfuls that never made it all the way to their mouth. They just sat there blankly until his attention returned to them. It was exhausting.

On top of their refusal to engage or eat, they continued to look more and more worn out. The third morning after their arrival at Willow’s house, they dozed off at the breakfast table and their face nearly landed in their uneaten pancakes. Concerned, Willow asked if they would like to go back to bed. They shook their head and assured him that they were quite all right. He frowned. It was obvious they were lying. They were barely conscious! But they spent most of their time in their room anyway, and it was clear that they were not sleeping during that time, no matter how obvious it was that their body needed it.

That day they had a follow up appointment at the doctor’s office. Willow discussed the possibility of sleep aids with the doctor, and came home with a prescription, which Merle refused to take. Not even ordering them would make them put the pill in their mouth. They crossed their arms over their chest and glared at Willow, their jaw clenched shut, and refused to budge until he was forced to back down because getting them to take the pill wasn't worth losing the minuscule amount of trust they had in him.

That night, on his way to the bathroom, he noticed the light was on under their door. When he approached, he could hear their soft footsteps pacing in a circle around the room. Over and over. He frowned. Was that what they did all night? For hours? He was concerned, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Sabrina’s reaction, when he told her of his troubles, was less than sympathetic.

“You’ve had it pretty easy so far,” she remarked, adding some sugar to her coffee when he went to visit her office. He had dumped the kids off on Blanche and Candela, who were supposedly going to take them out for ice cream. Blanche had strict instructions to report to him about what and how much Merle ate, if anything.

“Excuse me?” he asked. He had spent three hours of his day trying to feed Merle half a grilled cheese sandwich, and he didn’t feel his life was easy at all.

Either she read his thoughts or the scowl on his face said it all. She smirked into her coffee. “I did all the work of getting Blanche and Noire functional when they were rescued from Cipher,” she said, taking a liberal sip. “You got Blanche as a teenager, after I’d put almost ten years of work into them. They were much easier to deal with for you than they were for me.”

“Easy?” he demanded, setting his mug down with more force than necessary. Coffee sloshed over the brim, and his Chansey tried to mop it up with a napkin. He ignored the pokemon, glaring at Sabrina. “Noire was ignoring them, and they were devastated, a problem that you did nothing about and which has damaged their relationship to this day. You think it was easy dealing with that?”

Sabrina’s eyes flashed. “Noire was old enough to make their own choices,” she said, setting her own mug down with far more care than he had. She clasped her hands on the table so that they wouldn’t shake with her sudden anger. “Their relationship with Blanche was their own responsibility to maintain, and they chose not to. And,” she said, cutting off his retort, “it was, if you recall, never my desire to separate them in the first place. I warned you it would go poorly. You insisted that it was for the best and did it anyway.”

His jaw clenched. Yes, it was his idea, she was right about that, but... “You were their guardian. It was your job to teach them, and- and guide them, and step in when they were having trouble. Not leave them to flounder on their own,” he snapped. “You can’t claim the problems they have now aren’t at all your fault.”

She shrugged, which infuriated him further. “I did what I could with Noire,” she said. “But I couldn’t force them to talk to Blanche, to be warm to them. And Blanche had been taken out of my hands. There was little I could have done for them. And,” she added, a bit of bite to her words, “I didn’t see you stepping in, either.”

She picked up her coffee and took a long sip to calm herself. By the time she set it down again, her hands were steady. “However, we aren’t here to talk about the twins. We’re here to discuss Merle. They won’t take a sleep aid?”

“Not at all,” he said, huffing and leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He was still angry about Noire and Blanche, but that topic of conversation never got them anywhere. And he did need her suggestions for how to deal with his newest charge. “They flat out refuse, even if I give them a direct order. They’re surprisingly rebellious for a child who was indoctrinated by Cipher.”

“You could mix it in with their food,” Sabrina suggested.

Willow leaned forward. “What, you’re suggesting I drug their food? Even if I were willing to do that - and I’m not! - they don’t eat their meals in the first place. And don’t you dare suggest I pry their jaws apart!” he snapped, sensing that would be her next suggestion.

“I didn’t suggest anything of the sort,” she said. “But Willow, if you’re not willing to force them, you’re going to have to find the cause of the behaviour. They’re doing this for a reason. I could find out what it was, if you would let me near them.”

“No,” he said. She wasn’t surprised. He had barely allowed her near the child since they had woken up. “If they were subjected to the same psychic tortures as Grisaille, which is likely, having you root around in their head would cause more harm. I don’t need them traumatized further.” His arms were still crossed and his scowl was a sight to see. Again, she would have to let it go this time. Still, she made one last attempt.

“I don’t have to dig in their mind,” she said. “I can ask them questions and see where that leads their thoughts. It would be surface level. They shouldn’t even be able to sense me.”

“But if they do, any trust they might have for us will be destroyed completely,” he retorted. “No, Sabrina, I won’t risk it.” He stood and grabbed his coat. They weren’t getting anywhere.

She sighed and pinched the bridge on her nose. “You won’t get through to them if you’re too soft on them, Willow,” she said.

He frowned at her, already halfway at the door. “I won’t traumatize them further,” he said, “I refuse.” He stormed out, leaving her alone at a table set for two. She waved for Haunter to clear the mugs from the table. Willow may not realize it, but the longer he refused to take some kind of action with the child, the more likely it was that he would end up traumatizing them. But he wouldn’t see that. He had never been small and scared and helpless, entirely at the mercy of others. And he had never been inside the head of someone who had.

And she... she had been both. And he refused to see her as someone with compassion. Part of that was because of Team Rocket, she knew, but it was also because of the rift he felt she had allowed to grow between Blanche and Noire.

With another sigh, she got to her feet. She had paperwork to complete, and she suspected that Noire would need to be tracked down and kept busy so that they didn’t sneak out and crash the ice cream excursion. If they hadn’t already.

This was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

Blanche waited impatiently on the sidewalk outside Professor Willow’s townhouse. They alternated between pretending to be busy on their phone and glancing at the street. Professor Willow had already left, leaving Grisaille and Merle in their care. He hadn’t said where he was going, only asked them to take care of the children for the afternoon, but Blanche knew where he was regardless.

Candela had invited herself to the outing and had insisted that she drive, as it seemed no vehicle Blanche owned suited her sporty but expensive tastes. Blanche had given in because it hadn’t seemed worth the argument at the time, but now they regretted indulging her. She was, as ever, fashionably late, and they were stuck standing on the hot sidewalk with their two smaller siblings and no idea what to say.

Not that the other two seemed inclined to converse. Blanche glanced to the side, trying to be subtle enough that the others wouldn’t catch them looking. Merle and Grisaille were next to them. Merle stood ramrod straight, looking more like someone who expected to be run through military drills than someone about to go out for ice cream. Grisaille was more relaxed, having dropped to sit cross-legged on the lawn. They were fascinated by the grass and kept running their hands over it in a way that Blanche didn’t think was sanitary, but they held their tongue. The child’s life had been so deprived of even such small enjoyments up until this point. To tell them to stand up so they didn’t get dirty seemed petty.

The rumble of a vehicle approached them, and Blanche looked up with relief when Candela’s sleek red car pulled up to the sidewalk in front of them. She rolled down the window and peered at them over her sunglasses. “Oh, don’t you all look darling!” she cooed, leaning out to get a better look at them. Blanche glanced over at the children again, trying to see what she saw. Grisaille was wearing a grey button-up shirt with a vest over top and knee-length pants with shiny shoes, their hair unadorned but neatly brushed. Merle was wearing a pink sundress that Blanche rather thought clashed with the blue cast on their arm, and simple sandals. Their hair was in a half-ponytail secured with a pink ribbon. Blanche supposed both of them looked cute, but they always did. They didn’t see what the clothes had to do with it, though they did admire Merle’s bravery. Their burned arm and scarred legs were bare to the world, and Blanche felt a surge of protectiveness knowing the sort of looks Merle would get from strangers.

“Thank you, Candela,” Grisaille said. They glanced at Blanche for permission and waited for their nod before reaching for the door handle.

“Good afternoon, Miss Candela,” Merle said. Their tone was polite, but they were eyeing the car with suspicion even as Grisaille climbed into it and slid into the far seat so that Merle could climb in after them.

“Hi, Merle,” she said, grinning at them. “Just Candela is fine. There’s no need to be so polite.”

Merle looked doubtful. After a moment’s hesitation, Blanche pressed their hand between their shoulder blades to gently nudge them forward, very conscious of the way their bones pressed into their hand. “Get in, Merle,” they said. Their intention had been to say it gently, but they must not have succeeded, because Merle flinched before stepping forward and climbing onto the seat next to Grisaille. Blanche closed the door behind them while they did up their seatbelt. They rounded the car and climbed into the passenger’s seat, folding their hands on their lap and fighting down their anxiety. They had to make sure Merle and Grisaille had fun.

“Everyone set? Okay. There’s this new soft serve place on 25th - you’ll love it!” Candela said, pulling away from the curb.

'Well,' thought Blanche, glancing to where their siblings sat blank-faced in the back seat, 'at least someone’s excited.'

##

Blanche had to admit that the ice cream parlour was rather impressive, though they didn’t care for the sickly-sweet pastel greens, pinks, and blues that made up the colour palette. The walls were papered with blue and green stripes and the floor was a checkerboard of pink and white. The tables were round and surrounded by stools. A long counter ran along one wall, with the ice cream machines behind it.

Blanche felt a gentle tug at the back of their coat. They glanced down in surprise to find that Merle had edged closer and was clutching their coat tightly with their right hand. Their left arm was pressed close to their chest as their eyes darted around, taking in the interior of the shop. Whatever they saw -or didn’t see- made them relax.

As if Merle could feel their eyes on them, they glanced up. Their eyes widened as they realized that they were clinging, and they hastily let go, mumbling an apology as their gaze dropped to the floor.

“It’s fine,” Blanche said coolly, unsure of how to express that they liked that Merle had moved closer to them to seek comfort or protection. It didn’t do much to silence the voice inside them that said the child liked them the least, that they would prefer to be with anyone else over them, but it was a start.

Blanche looked around for Candela for some kind of direction. It wasn’t as though they frequented these kinds of establishments. With a jolt they realized that Candela had taken Grisaille’s hand and guided them to the counter, running through the various ice cream flavours and topping options for them, her arm draped around their shoulders. Blanche had been left alone by the door with Merle, who was peeking up at them from behind their bangs. There was an unspoken expectation there that Blanche should take the lead in this interaction.

“Ah...” they said. Crap. “Would you like to go look at the menu?” They pointed at the lit board behind the counter. They could read it to Merle, if they wanted, though the child didn’t seem to have any problems reading.

“Not particularly,” Merle replied. Their fingers wiggled where they poked out of their cast.

That wasn’t helpful. “Well, let’s look anyway,” Blanche said after a pause, bending to take their hand gently, worried that they would damage the healing bone somehow if they gripped too hard. “The Professor gave me instructions to make sure you eat something, after all.”

Merle pouted, which baffled Blanche. Grisaille hadn’t learned how to pout yet. They never seemed inclined to try to get their own way. But Merle had been pouting at them since the hospital, whenever Blanche insisted that yes, they really had to lie down and go to sleep. Pouting was a pointless endeavour at Cipher. They had to have learned it elsewhere.

Blanche forced thoughts of Cipher out of their head. They didn’t need to carry those memories with them here. This was supposed to be fun. Perhaps it would only succeed at being fun for Candela (and perhaps Grisaille), but that didn’t give Blanche an excuse to refuse to make an attempt.

“Come. I’m sure we’ll find something you like,” Blanche said, tugging lightly at their hand.

To their relief, Merle didn’t resist. They drew Merle toward the counter. Candela turned when she heard them approaching and grinned. “Hey, darling! Have you decided what you want yet?” she asked.

It seemed to take a minute for Merle to realize she was talking to them and not Blanche. Blanche could see the instant they understood, because they blinked three times in rapid succession and tilted their chin up. Their eyes flicked over the board without interest. “...Whatever Grisaille’s having,” they said finally, apparently unwilling to expend brain power on something they didn’t intend to eat anyway.

What Grisaille was having turned out to be strawberry soft serve. Merle frowned as the pink ice cream was swirled into a cup for them. “It matches your dress,” Grisaille said shyly. Merle glanced sideways at them but did not reply, instead edging closer to Blanche.

Merle’s dismay grew when they realized they had to pick toppings to go on top of the ice cream. “You must have three,” Blanche told them. Not you can have three, as they would have said to a normal child, but you must. Otherwise Merle would try to slide out of ordering any at all. They needed the calories too much for Blanche to allow that.

Merle sighed and pointed out three without looking. They ended up with peanuts, gummy worms, and yogurt chips. An odd combination. Grisaille’s selections were odd too, though they chose theirs with careful deliberation. Mango, mochi, and rainbow snow caps. Blanche thought they must have chosen foods they were unfamiliar with out of curiosity. For sauces, Merle got caramel and Grisaille got whipped cream.

Candela guided the children to a table while Blanche paid. They tucked the receipt into the pocket of their coat before joining the others at a table near the back of the store.

They sat on one of the stools, already feeling awkward. Merle was openly scowling at their bowl while Grisaille had picked up their spoon and was scooping up some ice cream dotted with pieces of mochi. They chewed it thoughtfully, and smile a little.

“Good?” Blanche asked.

Grisaille nodded. “Yes, Blanche. It is delicious. Thank you very much for buying it for me.” They turned to Merle, who was stirring their toppings into their ice cream and creating a lumpy pink mess streaked with caramel. “Are you enjoying your ice cream, Merle?” they asked. They didn’t usually try to speak to Merle directly, so when they finished the question they flushed and ducked their head.

Merle’s eyes flicked in Grisaille’s direction, and they frowned more deeply at their ice cream. “I haven’t tried it,” they mumbled. They tapped the pink mess with the back of their spoon, knowing what would come next.

“Then you should try it!” Candela said. “Here, you go, darling!” She plucked the spoon from Merle’s limp fingers and brought a spoonful of lumpy ice cream to their mouth. Her red lips curved in an encouraging smile when they made no move to take a bite and instead stared at the spoon as though it were a large bug hovering in front of their face. Candela tapped the full spoon against their mouth, leaving a smear of pink on their upper lip. “Come on. Blanche will be scolded by the professor if you don’t eat,” she cajoled.

Merle leaned away from the spoon and twisted their head to look up at her. “Will Blanche be in trouble?” they asked, concerned.

“Mhmm,” Candela said while Blanche glared at her. They hardly approved of her guilt-tripping the child to get them to eat, and they doubted Candela’s attempt would work.

Merle stared at Blanche, then dropped their gaze. “I do not want you to be punished because of me,” they murmured. “I am just not hungry.”

Blanche was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. They were touched that Merle cared about their well being, but horrified that they thought Professor Willow would “punish” them. They knew Merle was thinking of Cipher’s idea of “punishment”, and fought back an involuntary shudder.

“I understand that you don’t feel like eating,” they said at last, “but I would appreciate it if you did. You body will not heal properly if you don’t give it the nutrients it needs.” They placed a gentle hand on Merle’s cast. “More than not getting in trouble, I want you to be healthy. So please eat.”

Merle stared at the back of Blanche’s hand. Then they opened their mouth, staring at Candela expectantly. Her expression brightened as she fed them the spoonful of ice cream. Like a baby bird, Blanche thought. Even Grisaille smiled when Merle swallowed the food.

“Good,” Candela cooed. “It’s tasty, isn’t it? Here, have some more.”

Candela continued to feed Merle. Blanche’s chest tightened with familiar jealousy, but they fought it back with impatience. Of course she was doting on them. Merle was an injured, needy child. It was pointless for them to resent that, especially when getting Merle to eat was what they wanted in the first place.

At least Grisaille didn’t have any hangups about food, unless their curiosity and eagerness to try new foods could be considered as such. Grisaille caught Blanche looking at them and offered a tentative smile, which Blanche returned. Maybe this ice cream date wouldn’t be so bad.

“Aren’t you going to eat your ice cream?” Grisaille asked, pointing to Blanche’s full bowl, which was starting to melt. If they didn’t start eating soon, it would turn into sweet green soup.

“Yes, of course,” they said, and dug into their own ice cream.

“What flavour did you get?” Grisaille asked after Blanche had eaten several bites.

“Mint,” Blanche replied. Grisaille had finished their ice cream and was waiting with their hands clasped in their lap for the others to finish. “Would you like to have a taste?” Blanche offered, scooping up some ice cream and holding it out to the child, who nodded and leaned forward to accept the mouthful.

They chewed it, and nodded. “It’s good. Thank you, Blanche.”

Candela had stopped feeding Merle and was keeping a close eye on them while they ate on their own. Merle saw Blanche looking and paused with their spoon halfway to their mouth. “What is it?” they asked.

“Nothing,” Blanche said quickly, noting the lines of worry that appeared on their face.

“Blanche just wants your attention,” Candela teased, running her fingers affectionately through Merle's bangs. Blanche blushed, but couldn’t dispute it without risk of hurting the child’s feelings. And Candela wasn’t necessarily wrong...

Merle looked startled. “Oh,” they said. They ate their bite of ice cream, studying Blanche through their lashes. It was always impossible to tell what they were thinking.

“The professor told me that you are both part of the Go Program that he is the head of,” Merle said. They fished some peanuts out of the bottom of their bowl and examined them critically while they spoke. Apparently finding nothing wrong with them, they ate the peanuts, glancing up at Blanche expectantly. Blanche realized they were waiting for a response.

“Yes, that’s correct,” they said with an awkward cough. “Candela, Spark, and I are leaders of three of the teams that make up the Go Program. I lead Mystic; Candela, Valour. Spark, naturally, is the leader of Instinct.”

Merle nodded as though this was not new information. “And what is it that you do?” they asked, though they were no longer looking at Blanche. They had found more peanuts and were staring at them with an offended expression. Making a face, they popped the peanuts in their mouth and chewed with more resentment than Blanche had ever seen anyone give a peanut.

The question was a broad one, Blanche mused. They weren’t entirely sure how to answer. “Well, as leader, I ensure the smooth operation of Team Mystic,” they began. “As I’m sure you have heard from the professor, Team Mystic’s research focuses on pokemon evolution: Why do pokemon evolve? What causes them to evolve? What circumstances can affect their evolution? Why do some pokemon have multiple evolutions, while some don’t evolve at all? How does evolving affect the pokemon’s stats? These are all very broad questions - each one has hundreds, if not thousands, of more specific questions that branch off of these and need to be investigated. There is so much to learn- and I am getting sidetracked,” Blanche said, flushing as they realized that everyone was staring at them - the children with wide eyes, Candela with a smirk. They fiddled uncertainly with the cuff of their coat. Had they confused Merle?

“So you are a scientist?” Merle asked. They were back to stirring the remainder of their ice cream. Candela reached for the spoon, but they leaned away from her, holding it out of her reach. A glop fell off the spoon and splattered on the floor.

“Yes and no,” Blanche said. “Along with my own research, I also oversee all the scientists in Mystic. Projects have to go through me for approval, I have final say in what funding and resources get directed where, and I am responsible for protecting my team from external threats-”

“Like Team Rocket,” Candela supplied.

Blanche’s mood plummeted. “I have a lot of duties,” they finished, glaring at Candela for bringing Noire into the conversation. And they had been having a nice time!

Merle’s hands were twisting in their skirt. Stress. What had Blanche said wrong?

“I do not think highly of scientists,” Merle whispered.

Blanche paled. “They are not like Cipher’s scientists!” Grisaille broke in, leaning forward so that Merle’s unwilling gaze was dragged to them. Grisaille was vibrating with anxiety, their hands in fists on the edge of the table. “I have been to Team Mystic’s laboratories, and they are run much differently from Cipher’s. Blanche treats the Puni- Pokemon far better than we were ever treated.”

Realizing that they had raised their voice and that other store patrons were staring, Grisaille dropped their gaze and sat down quickly, shoulders hunching in silent expectation of punishment. As though Blanche would be anything other than touched that their sibling had rushed to their defence. They put a hand on Grisaille’s shoulder, patting it gently in the thanks that could not get past the lump in their throat. Grisaille’s muscles were taut under their fingers, but relaxed slowly as the child realized that Blanche was not angry.

Merle stared at Grisaille for a long moment while Grisaille caught their breath. “If you say so,” they said, pushing their bowl away.

“I have an idea,” Candela said, her amber eyes sparkling in a way that boded ill as she leaned into Merle’s space. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

“What?” Blanche sputtered while both children looked from the tabletop to Candela.

She shrugged, a graceful rippling of the admittedly very impressive muscles in her shoulders. “Why not? The professor won’t be back for a while yet, and I doubt he would mind us giving the kids a quick tour, as long as they’re supervised. They’ve expressed interest. It’s even educational!”

She was pleased with herself, but Blanche was not convinced of the wisdom of this plan. “If something goes wrong, Professor Willow will hold me accountable,” they said. “And we don’t know how Merle will react to pokemon. Mystic Labs is full of them.” They knew the care Professor Willow had taken to ensure that Merle would not be exposed to pokemon during their first week at his house.

Candela turned to Merle. “So, would you like to go?” she asked, grinning at them, completely ignoring Blanche’s squawk of objection.

Merle studied Blanche with serious green eyes, and they fought the urge to squirm. Merle didn’t seem to feel self-conscious at all about staring at people.

“I would like to,” they admitted. Blanche had to strain to hear the words, they were speaking so quietly. “I would like very much to see the place Blanche is in charge of, but not if they object. I don’t want to go against their wishes.”

Blanche’s heart softened more than they had thought possible. They resented that the children were Noire’s clones, that they were partial successes while Blanche would always be a failure. But it was hard to hate Merle when they were staring at them with such worry and when they were expressing the sincere desire to get to know Blanche better while also acknowledging their boundaries.

“If you want to go, then I don’t mind,” they heard their own voice say. Candela beamed, victorious, and winked at them when they frowned in her direction. “But you must be on your best behaviour.” The last comment was meant for Candela, but she didn’t seem to hear.

Despite getting what they asked for, Merle didn’t react much. They merely nodded and gathered up their bowl and plastic spoon, rising to discard both in the nearest garbage can. They returned to the table and pointed to Blanche’s bowl. “Are you finished with that?” they asked. At Blanche’s nod, Merle gathered their garbage.

“Take mine too,” Candela said, holding out her bowl and spoon, which Merle accepted. While they left for the garbage can, Blanche kicked Candela under the table, making her yelp. It was one thing for Merle to offer, but they didn’t like Candela ordering their younger sibling to do things for her.

Grisaille stood, and Blanche realized that they were the only one whose garbage Merle had not taken away. They headed to the garbage can while Merle on their way back. Merle skirted around a table rather than brush past them, and Blanche frowned. Merle was still avoiding Grisaille. They hoped the child's wariness of their counterpart would wear off quickly.

“Everybody ready?” Candela asked. There was a chorus of nods. “All right then. Let’s go.”

The ride to Mystic Labs was quiet. Candela made several stabs at starting a conversation, but gave up when she didn’t succeed.

Mystic Labs towered above them. Candela went around the block and scanned her pass to open the doors to the parkade. She pulled into a parking spot and everyone piled out. Merle moved closer to Blanche, made nervous by the closed space and the flickering fluorescent lights. They brushed their fingers against Merle’s shoulder to comfort them, then strode toward the elevator. This building was theirs, so they would lead the way.

“What parts of the lab would you like to see?” they asked as they scanned their pass on the panel outside the elevator. Mystic Labs had high security to discourage theft, and not only from certain Rocket members. There were others who would love to get their hands on the data so lovingly accumulated by the dedicated members of Team Mystic.

The elevator doors slicked open, and Blanche ushered the children inside. “Do you have an office?” Merle asked, wandering into the elevator. They examined the back wall, tapping it. “Is this glass?” they asked.

“Yes, to both questions,” Blanche replied. “My office is on one of the topmost floors.” They pushed the button.

The elevator shot up the shaft smoothly, faster than Merle expected. They grabbed onto Grisaille for balance, realized what they had done, and leaped away so violently that they almost fell over. Candela had to catch them by the shoulders to steady them. “Hey, settle down. Hold on to the hand rail.” She guided their hand to the railing, flashing Grisaille an apologetic smile for Merle’s negative reaction.

The elevator left the underground levels, and Merle was stunned enough to gasp. As they had asked, the walls of the elevator were glass, which meant that they could see the city fall away beneath them as they shot upwards. Their hand snaked into Candela’s to reassure themself that they weren’t going to fall through the glass. She gave their hand a squeeze. The soaring skyscrapers around them fell away into the horizon and the sky was a brilliant blue. There were storm clouds in the distance, which Blanche mused was probably Spark and Zapdos shirking their duties and avoiding Go by flying around the Sanctuary.

The elevator came to a gentle stop. Blanche stepped aside while two Mystic members filed in. “Hello, Leader Blanche!” one of them said, voice a little too high. She was clutching her clipboard to her chest with a blush. Blanche nodded to her and went back to staring at the button panel as the elevator started to climb again. The girl with the clipboard and her associate got off at an earlier floor (”Have a good day, Leader Blanche!”) and their party got off three floors later.

Merle and Grisaille waited for the adults to leave the elevator before following. Merle was looking around curiously, but Grisaille had been here before. “Blanche’s office is over there,” they said, pointing in the proper direction. Merle nodded without looking and Grisaille let their arm fall, face tightening with disappointment.

“Come along,” Blanche said. They felt sympathetic toward Grisaille, who kept making friendly overtures just to have them be rejected, but they weren’t sure how to express it. The others followed them down the hall. They pushed open the door to their office. It was a big space, with a desk in front of the windows and shelves and filing cabinets against the walls. The front part of the office had a small sitting area, with a couch and a low table with a vase of artfully arranged artificial flowers. It mostly went unused, except when Blanche had visitors that needed to be received in a more impressive space than a conference room. Through a door on the left was a small kitchenette that they used only for coffee, fruit cups, and yogurt. “Feel free to look around,” they added, noting that Merle was hovering just inside the door.

Merle glanced at them quickly to make sure it was really okay, then ventured cautiously into the office. Blanche felt strangely self-conscious. They did spend a large part of their day here, though they also spent a lot of time in the labs and in the conference rooms.

Merle ventured along the bookshelves, poking through the reference books. They eyed the papers stacked neatly on Blanche’s desk, but knew better than to touch them. “It is a very nice office,” they said, as if they sensed Blanche’s need for approval. Finished with their inspection, they returned to Blanche’s side. “May I see your laboratories, too?” they asked, craning their neck back to see Blanche’s face.

Blanche stared at them. “You want to?” At their answering nod, Blanche shook their head. “I’m not sure that is wise. There are lots of pokemon in the labs. And I am worried that if I bring you to the lab, it will bring back bad memories for you.”

“Thank you for your concern. I would still like to see, but if I do not have your permission, then we can return to Professor Willow’s house to wait for him to return,” Merle said.

Blanche was torn. On the one hand, they wanted to give the child what they wanted, whatever that might be. However, they didn’t want the child to be frightened, or worse, hurt. Until the professor returned, Merle and Grisaille were their responsibility. They had to keep them safe.

“No, not today, I think,” Blanche said. “I think it’s better if we return home for now.”

If Merle was disappointed, it didn’t show. “All right,” they said. They followed Blanche to the elevator.

Candela dropped them off at Willow’s townhouse. “Bye, darlings! Be good for Blanche!” she said, kissing Grisaille on the head and squeezing their shoulders. She moved toward Merle, whose eyes widened. They backed up rapidly, shaking their head. Their hands rose to their chest, palms out to ward her off. Candela stopped, disappointed. She turned to Blanche. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, brushing off Merle’s rejection.

Blanche nodded. “Yes. Thank you for today, Candela. I... appreciated your company,” they admitted. It had been a relief to have someone else to rely on. Otherwise the two sets of eyes on them might have made them panic.

She grinned and hugged them. “It was a pleasure. I’m always happy to hang out with you. And the kids, of course.” She clapped them on the back before releasing them. “And it looks like Professor Willow got back while we were out. His car’s here.”

Blanche looked where she was pointing, and nodded. “That’s good,” they said, relieved. They could pass the kids off to the professor and go home and read.

“Goodbye, Candela,” Grisaille said politely.

“Bye,” muttered Merle.

Once Candela had driven away, Blanche mounted the front steps and tested the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, so they opened the door and ushered the kids in ahead of them.

“Blanche? Is that you?” they heard Professor Willow call from inside.

“Yes, Professor. We’re back,” Blanche said. They strode into the house while Merle and Grisaille took their shoes off. Professor Willow had tried to explain to the children that they didn’t have to, but it didn’t seem to stick. Two pairs of shoes were lined up neatly in the entryway.

Blanche found Professor Willow in the kitchen. He smiled at them from his position at the stove, where he was stir frying vegetables. There was a tightness around his mouth that told Blanche his meeting with Sabrina hadn’t gone well. They weren’t sure why he bothered.

“How’d it go?” he asked now.

“Surprisingly well,” Blanche said, sliding into a seat at the table. Grisaille slid into the spot across from them.

“Did Merle eat anything?” Professor Willow asked, temporarily turning his attention away from the stove.

“Yes. Candela had to feed them with a spoon, but they ate most of their ice cream,” Blanche said.

A relieved smile broke across the professor’s face. “Good, good. Thanks Blanche. I really appreciate your taking them today,” he said. Blanche murmured that it was no trouble at all while the Professor turned to Grisaille. “And what about you, Gris? Did you have a good time?”

“Yes, Professor. I had strawberry ice cream with whipped cream. It was delicious,” they reported.

“That does sound good,” the professor said. He turned to give the vegetables on the stove a quick stir.

“I also showed them my office, since Merle was interested,” Blanche said.

Professor Willow looked over his shoulder at them. “Your office?” he asked, frowning.

“I didn’t take them into any of the labs, and we didn’t run into any pokemon on the way,” Blanche assured him. “It was the first time Merle had really shown interest in me, so I wanted to show them.”

Professor Willow was still frowning, but he nodded slowly. “Well, I guess that’s all right,” he said. “And it’s rare for them to ask for anything. Mystic Labs are relatively safe.” Compared to Instinct and Valour’s headquarters, Blanche privately thought theirs was the safest. “Speaking of Merle, where are they?” Professor Willow asked suddenly.

Blanche glanced around the kitchen, realizing that Merle wasn’t there. “They came into the house ahead of me,” they said.

Grisaille glanced up. “Merle went to their room,” they said. “They said that they were tired.”

Blanche, who had started to push themself up to go look for their sibling, sank back to their chair slowly. Professor Willow’s shoulders loosened and he went back to cooking, digging through the cupboards. “Well, there’s no harm in letting them rest until dinner is ready. Grisaille, would you like to help?”

“Yes,” Grisaille said, sliding off the stool. Evening light streamed through the window while they cooked. Blanche was useless in the kitchen, so they watched for a moment before sliding out of the chair. They stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at Merle’s closed door. Their heart had sunk to the pit of their stomach. They thought today had been a good day, but Merle had gone back into hiding the instant they had returned home, without even saying goodbye to them. It hurt to think that maybe Merle hadn’t wanted to come with them and had just been trying to make the best of a bad situation. Blanche sighed and returned to the table. Another day. They would try to get through to the child again another day.

Chapter Text

Merle made it two weeks before they snapped.

The day went normally enough until that point. Willow was still on leave until he felt that Merle had settled in, and they definitely weren’t there yet. He managed to get half a bowl of porridge into them for breakfast, and then the three of them left the house to run errands.

He thought later that it must have been the grocery shopping that pushed them over the edge. The store wasn’t crowded during the day, but it was still busy. People milled about, and Merle flinched every time an announcement was made over the loudspeaker. Willow resolved to finish the shopping as quickly as possible, but these things took time. By the time they left, Merle had gone from twitchy to completely shut down. However, the process of putting the groceries away seemed to calm them, and they agreed to remain in the kitchen while he and Grisaille prepared lunch.

“Would you like to help?” he asked. Maybe if they got involved in the food preparation they would be more interested in eating the finished product.

“No, thank you,” they declined. “I do not wish to be in the way. There isn’t much room.” They settled down at the table, in the chair as far away from him and Grisaille as they could get. As with Grisaille, Willow had given them a tablet as a welcoming gift, and they had brought it to the table with them. It mostly just had educational apps on it, though Blanche had added the child to some of their subscriptions when Merle had asked them about the periodicals Blanche had left in their room. Apparently they had not only read them, but found them interesting enough to request more. They opened one now - Willow could see the cover page when they powered up the tablet. Their head bent down to read, and they largely ignored the other two as they puttered around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and clanging pans on the stove.

“Time to put that away,” Willow said, setting a steaming bowl of soup in front of the child. They obediently set the tablet aside and waited for Willow and Grisaille to settle into their chairs. Someone had taught them that they needed to wait for everyone to be seated and served before they started eating, and it hadn’t been Willow. But when he’d asked, they only stared at him. It was possible that he was only imagining it and Merle was just trying to put off having to eat as long as they could.

“Good?” he asked Grisaille, smiling at them. They nodded and offered a small smile in return. They liked little domestic tasks like cooking and setting the table. Merle, on the other hand, was stirring their soup. And stirring it. They glanced up and realized he was watching him. They took a small bite before he could chide them, but then just held it in their mouth without swallowing it.

“Merle, please eat nicely,” he said in as gentle in a tone as he could muster. He knew it wasn't their fault, but it was exhausting coaxing every bite into their mouth. And a small, bitter part of him couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t that hard to just eat what was put in front of you without making a big deal of it. That part of him made him feel guilty. Trauma was making them act this way, and there wasn’t anything he could do about that.

Merle glanced up at him without lifting their head. At least they swallowed the soup. They even took another mouthful. But as soon as he took their attention off them, they stopped.

Yes, it was definitely exhausting.

Since Grisaille had helped cook, he sent them to play on their tablet while Merle helped him clean up. They hadn’t eaten all of their soup, and their face relaxed in relief as they dumped it in the garbage. They washed the dishes amicably enough, though they ignored his attempts at conversation. Once the cleanup was done, they hovered awkwardly in the middle of the floor until he remembered to dismiss them.

“Thanks for your help. You can go now,” he said, smiling at them. He tried not to be hurt when they grabbed their tablet and bolted down the hall to their bedroom.

Merle didn’t come out again, and Willow let them have their space while he tried to catch up on what work he could do at home. He got engrossed in his reports and ended up being late to start supper. “Grisaille,” he said as he peeled potatoes, cursing himself for throwing them off schedule. Neither child reacted well to disruptions to their routine. “Could you get Merle and tell them it’s time to set the table?”

“Yes, Professor,” Grisaille said, setting down the carrot they were peeling and wiping their hands meticulously. They strode out of the kitchen and down the hall while Willow continued peeling vegetables.

There was a resounding crash from down the hall that made Willow drop both potato and peeler in alarm. It was followed by a cry of pain and alarm and a thud as a body hit the floor. Willow was already racing down the hall before his brain caught up with him. Through the open door he could see Merle straddling Grisaille, holding half a broken lamp in their good hand. The other half lay in broken shards around the pair.

“Don’t!” Willow bellowed as the lamp came down a second time. Grisaille’s hand jabbed out and smashed into the side of Merle’s face, knocking them aside. The lamp smashed harmlessly against the floor. Grisaille rolled free and crouched, cat-like, face set with determination. Merle jumped to their feet but was too slow, hindered by the cast on their arm, and Grisaille sprang, hitting them mid-body. The pair went down in a tumble of flailing limbs. With panic, Willow suddenly remembered that while these were children, they had been trained in how to cause serious damage, and they fought to the death.

“That’s enough!” he roared in French, grabbing Merle by the back of the shirt. They had a shard of the lamp in their hand, and he yanked them back before they could use it to gouge Grisaille’s eyes out. They overbalanced and fell backward, hitting the wall hard with a yelp. He had enough presence of mind to wince guiltily before he whirled on Grisaille. “Get in your room, now!” he snapped. They had frozen in the middle of the floor the second he had grabbed Merle; now they dashed out of the room with wide, frightened eyes. Their door slammed across the hall while Willow stared down at Merle.

They were still clutching the lamp shard, blood welling from their fingers as the sharp edges bit into their flesh. Their eyes were darting around in alarm, looking anywhere but at Willow. There was something in their eyes, something detached and feral, that alarmed him. He knew immediately that he couldn’t leave them alone. They would either harm themselves or escape through the window. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in the room with them either. Unlike Grisaille, they hadn’t settled down when he intervened. Their muscles were still taut, poised to attack, defend, or flee.

They growled when he knelt in front of them, a warning sound, low in their throat. Their broken arm was pressed against their chest, which rose and fell rapidly with their frantic breaths. He hoped they hadn’t re-injured their arm. He held out his hand. “Give it to me.” Their hand tightened around the shard, their weapon, making deeper cuts in their fingers. If it hurt, they gave no sign. “Give it. Now, Merle,” he said, switching back to French.

They responded to the command in French. Their fingers opened as if of their own volition, and their makeshift weapon clattered to the ground. Willow quickly swept it out of their reach with a foot. They curled up in a ball against the wall while he reached for his cell.

“Sabrina? I need your help over here,” he said wearily, staring at the carnage.

##

Sabrina arrived twenty minutes later to find Merle huddled against the wall, arms wrapped around themself while blood dribbled slowly off the ends of their fingers. The broken glass had been swept into a pile by the door and left there. Grisaille was nowhere in sight, but Willow sat on the bed across from Merle, staring at them in exhaustion. He looked up when she entered the bedroom, but Merle didn’t move.

“You didn’t bandage their hand?” she asked in lieu of a greeting.

He winced. “I didn’t want to leave them alone. They have a history of trying to jump out windows,” he said. His tone was coloured with guilt, which mollified her anger a bit.

“Go get me your first aid kit. I know you have one.” He hesitated, but she ignored him, instead going to kneel over by the child’s still form.

“Merle, look at me,” she said in a gentle tone that she was glad Willow was too far away to hear.

The child shook their head. Their face was buried in their burned arm and their cast and was hidden from her view. A small puddle of blood was forming on the floor under their hand. She sighed. Willow had tried being soft on them, and it didn’t appear to have done much good. The child had gained no weight in Willow’s care. In fact, she bet if they were weighed now, they would have lost weight. It sickened her to think that their pitiful state at their rescue may not have been exclusively Cipher’s doing, but their own as well. And she suspected that she was right. The child’s thoughts, so carefully guarded when she had met them in the hospital, were left wide open due to sheer exhaustion. The weight of their grief and terror swamped her without her even having to probe their mind. She flung her own shields up so that their muddied thoughts wouldn’t invade her own. She could sort through that mess later.

“That wasn’t a request,” she said, forcing her voice to be stern even though all she wanted was to gather them in her arms and tell them that everything would be okay. That she would fix whatever was hurting them so badly.

The child was so far past their limits that they could only obey the order. Their head raised slowly. Their eyes were too bright, but no tears had spilled over. Their face was pinched, their lips drawn tightly together. The child was strong-willed. She knew that from the first day they had regained consciousness in the hospital and their first thought had been to escape. How they had resisted, fully prepared to fight, when they had barricaded themself in the break room. Then, and now, it was only exhaustion and physical weakness that made them surrender. She had to respect that.

“Good. Now, let me see that hand.” Willow returned with the first aid kit, and she accepted it from him with a neutral expression. “Thank you. Go check on Grisaille. I’m sure they think you’re furious with them. You’ll have to reassure them.”

“Are you sure I shouldn’t stay?” he said. His eyes were pleading with her to let him stay, to let him believe that he hadn’t failed with this child.

“Grisaille needs you right now. I’ll handle things here.” It was a dismissal, one she knew stung, but he stood and left.

“So,” she said as she drew their bloody hand into her lap. The old burn scars that climbed their arm made her sick to look at, but she pushed the feeling aside. “What happened?” She could guess, and their thoughts weren’t hidden, but she wanted to see what they would say. If they were even willing to talk to her.

They remained silent for a moment, their mind whirring so fast that she could feel it through the protective barrier she had erected in her mind. She poured disinfectant on some gauze and gently dabbed at the wound, waiting for them to gather their thoughts.

“I can’t remember your name,” they whispered, their voice soft and apologetic. When she glanced up they wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“It’s Sabrina,” she said. She pulled out a roll of bandages and began to wind it around the wound. It didn’t look like they would need stitches, but she was no doctor. She would have to get the hand checked out to be safe.

“Oh,” they said. She was securing the end of the bandage with clips before they spoke again. “Grisaille came in to get me for dinner. I was asleep, and they woke me up. I was frightened, and I... I hit them with the lamp.” They glanced at the pieces of broken lamp piled by the door, and their lips pressed harder together. Guilt.

“I see.” She let the words hang there for a moment while she tidied the first aid kit and set it aside. “Was Grisaille hurt?”

“No... I don’t think so,” they said. They didn’t sound sure. She would have to ask Willow later. “They punched me. It’s good that Professor Willow came and stopped us.” She prodded a bit beyond her shield and sensed their fear that they would not have stopped otherwise. That they didn’t know how to have an altercation without someone ending up dead. Most of all, they were afraid of Grisaille.

The child drew in a deep breath, bracing themself. She could sense their resolve. “So what happens now?” they asked, bravely meeting her eyes. They knew that they had messed up severely. They expected to be punished. And if not a punishment, then some other sort of consequence.

“Now,” she said, rocking back on her heels, “I think you will be staying with me for a while.”

##

Willow was subdued when she told him that she would be taking Merle home with her. She knew that he was foolishly optimistic, but she was surprised to realize that he had not expected this to happen. That he really had believed that things would work out without the violent tendencies the children had to adopt to survive Cipher rearing their ugly heads. He ought to know better by now. These children were survivors. They didn’t become survivors by letting people trample them, no matter how meek or submissive they may seem.

Still, watching him sit there with his head in his hands, head bowed over the table, she felt herself soften toward him. “You can still have them on weekends,” she heard herself offer, and accepted that she would let him. It would be good for him, and, no matter how he might doubt it now, for Merle and Grisaille themselves.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked, raking a hand through his greying hair. He had blood smeared from his wrist to his forearm - Merle’s, probably - but he didn’t appear to notice. It left a smudge on his forehead that her fingers itched to wipe away, but she kept her hands to herself. “I let my guard down, and they pounded the shit out of each other. I should have been watching them better-”

“You made a mistake,” Sabrina said, cutting him off before he could go down the rabbit hole of self pity. “A mistake I am sure you will repeat, as will I, and as will the others. We’re used to being able to leave children in a room together without them hurting each other, Willow. Yes, these children require more vigilance, but we won’t learn that overnight. You made a mistake,” she repeated. “And that mistake wouldn’t have caused a problem if Merle weren’t too exhausted to restrain themself.”

“It’s not Merle’s fault,” Willow protested. “They’re a child.”

“They’re a teenager,” she reminded him. They were so small, it was easy to forget, but most children their age had much more independence than she or Willow could risk giving them. “A young teenager, but a teenager nonetheless. They’ll be legal to drive in a few years. But the point is,” she said, detecting his intention to interrupt and cutting him off, “that they fell asleep.”

Willow look up at her in surprise. “Merle doesn’t sleep.”

“Everyone sleeps,” she said. “And Merle has been fighting it ever since they woke up in the hospital. But they need sleep. They were exhausted, and they dozed off in their room. Grisaille entered their room while they were sleeping and vulnerable, and it triggered a panic response. And their response was to fight.”

He absorbed this. The late afternoon sun streamed through the window and reflected off his glasses, hiding his eyes. It was incredible, she thought, how not seeing someone’s eyes made it harder to read their thoughts. For people without her powers, anyway.

“They view Grisaille as a threat,” he said.

It wasn’t really a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes.”

“Is that why they won’t sleep? Because they’re afraid of Grisaille? If I put a lock on their door, would they feel safer?”

He didn’t want her to take the child. He was looking for a solution where he would be allowed to keep them, no matter what his deal with her had been. She sighed. She pitied him, really, she did.

“That’s part of it, and I do think they need to have limited contact with each other for the time being, at least until they both settle down from this incident,” she said. “But that’s not why they won’t sleep. Or why they won’t eat.”

“Then why?” he asked. “Do you know something, Sabrina?”

“I’m not sure. Their feelings were so turbulent today that they let their guard down and I could read more of their thoughts than usual. They’re a mess. They have so much fear, but even greater than their fear is their grief. But I don’t know what exactly they’re grieving for. Their thoughts weren’t coherent enough.”

“Grief...” he said, repeating the words. He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “Will my life ever be easy?” he demanded.

Despite herself, she smiled. “Not likely. You’d have to make far different choices if you want an easy life, Willow,” she said.

He dropped his hands and leaned back in his chair. “You’re probably right. And it would be boring, wouldn’t it, to have an easy life?” Even he was smiling slightly now.

“Quite,” she agreed. She stood. “I’ll go get Merle, and you can reassure them that I’ll be bringing them back on Friday afternoon. I don’t want them believing that you’re kicking them out for bad behaviour.”

“No, definitely not,” he agreed. “Feel free to take any of their clothes out of the wardrobe. Candela picked them out.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that.”

##

Merle accepted their fate quietly. They had, after all, expected to be punished. They were puzzled that their punishment seemed to be a change in location. They were even more puzzled that Willow assured them that they would be returning on Friday. Why send them away at all if they were expected to return? They didn’t understand.

They did, however, understand that everyone was miserable. Professor Willow was smiling at them, but he radiated misery. It made them shift in discomfort. Grisaille was miserable too. Professor Willow had insisted that the four of them eat dinner together before Merle left with Sabrina, though Merle didn’t know why.

Why, they wondered, picking at their potatoes, didn’t anyone here explain anything to them? Did they think Merle was stupid? What could they do to prove that they weren’t? Perhaps they had been spoiled in the years since they had escaped from Cipher. They were no longer used to people dictating their life without telling them what was going on. So disused to it that it chafed now that it was happening. They had no one but themself to blame. If they had just manged to keep it together, if they hadn’t panicked and hit Grisaille, then no one would be upset. It was a shame, really. They would have liked to be friends with Grisaille someday, but despite their attempts to catch the other clone’s eye, Grisaille refused to look at them. So that was that.

Sabrina packed a duffle bag of their clothes for them. They hadn’t gotten to wear most of them yet and so couldn’t venture an opinion, but it didn’t matter since she didn’t ask. So they waited by the door, hands clasped as they studied the room. It wasn’t home, so they wouldn’t miss it. Besides, they were supposed to be coming back “on Friday” (for how long? why didn’t anyone tell them?) so they wouldn’t be gone long.

Sabrina straightened, her long hair catching the light as it slid over her shoulders. She smiled at them and they blinked, eyes snapping from her hair to her face. They had to concentrate. Their head felt fuzzy and heavy, but they had felt worse. They could focus. It would just take effort.

Sabrina was speaking to them. “-need anything else?”

That was a question. They started to shake their head before the meaning sank in. Ah. “My tablet?” they asked, before it occurred to them that they may not be permitted to take it with them. Professor Willow had given it to them, and he may want to keep it now that Merle had behaved so poorly.

“Oh, of course,” Sabrina said as though it were a given that it would be going with them. They relaxed slightly - at least they hadn’t made another mistake. She glanced around. “And where do you keep it?”

“On the night table,” they said, pointing. It was plugged into the wall to charge. Sabrina unplugged it and tucked tablet and cord in the duffle bag. “There. All set?” she was smiling at them again. She didn’t seem mad.

“Yes, Madame,” they said. All the other possessions that had mattered to them were lost already.

“Do you want any of these books?” she asked, gesturing to the bookshelf. There was very little there, but they shook their head.

“No. I can read them when I come back.” The adults said they would be coming back. It would be best to show that they believed it, right?

“All right then. Let’s say goodbye to Willow and Grisaille and be on our way.” She came over to them and touched their shoulder. The touch was light, but they still flinched. They didn’t want her touching them. She didn’t take her hand away, instead using it to guide them down the hall.

Professor Willow and Grisaille were waiting in the living room. Grisaille sat on the couch, hands twisting in their lap. They looked up sharply when Sabrina and Merle came down the hall, and stood. Professor Willow was straightening pictures that did not need to be straightened. He dropped his hands and smiled at them. “Ready to go?” he asked with false cheer. Merle fought the urge to frown.

“Yes,” they said, glancing up at Sabrina for confirmation. She squeezed their shoulder. They wished she wouldn’t do that.

“I’ve got their tablet. I assume it’s fine to take that with them?” Sabrina asked.

“Yes, of course,” Willow said. He had been raking his hand through his hair a lot. It must be because he was upset. He definitely seemed upset, though he was trying not show it. “Do you think you’ll need anything else?”

“No. I can get a toothbrush and toiletries for them myself. That way they won’t have to keep bringing it back and forth. Bedding, too,” she said.

With that, it was decided. Merle wasn’t given a chance to apologize to Grisaille or say goodbye. Instead they were whisked out the door and into a car that even their untrained eyes could tell was expensive. They breathed in the smell of the leather seats as they buckled the seatbelt and wondered what Sabrina’s house would be like. They stared out the window as the car pulled away from the curb, watching the professor's house disappear behind them. Would Blanche and Noire come to visit them at Sabrina's house, too, or had that been lost to them?

Their question was answered soon enough. They approached a tall building, taller than any building Merle had ever seen, so tall they craned their neck back and still couldn’t see the top because the roof of the car was in the way. Sabrina flashed a pass and pulled into an underground parking lot - a parkade, they thought the word was.

Being underground made them uneasy. The air was still and the fluorescent lights flashed in a way that made fear creep up their throat. They got out of the car with forced calm and closed the door behind them. They followed Sabrina through the parkade, twisting their hands together so that they wouldn’t grab her hand out of terror.

Next they rode up an elevator, up and up and up. Merle did not fidget at the uncomfortable silence. Perhaps they were the only one uncomfortable, and if that was the case they would keep quiet about it. The doors opened and Sabrina pulled out a key. She caught Merle looking it and smiled at them. “I’ll get one made for you soon,” she promised. They blinked at her. A key? They would be given a key? How was she supposed to lock them in, or out, if they had a key?

Perhaps that was the point. A show of trust?

They were distracted from their thoughts as the door flung open in front of them. They raised their arms protectively in front of their chest as a large shape hurtled toward them. “Merle!”

Noire was fortunate that Merle recognized their voice and so did not strike them for leaping at them so suddenly. The last thing they needed was to hit two of their siblings in one day. Especially since they had no hope of defeating Noire in physical combat. Noire’s arms wrapped around them and Merle got a mouthful of hair from one of their pigtails. They spat it out and returned the hug with caution.

Noire drew back but kept their hands on Merle's shoulders, beaming at them. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you!” they gushed. “I’ve been so busy with work! Come on in. I got your room all ready for you.” Then they were tugging on Merle’s hands in excitement, drawing them over the threshold and into a marble foyer.

They were in a penthouse, they realized, taking in the large floor to ceiling windows in the huge living room that they managed to catch a glimpse of as they kicked off their shoes. Noire was already dragging them down the hallway, so they didn’t get a chance to set them neatly by the door. Hopefully Sabrina would forgive them.

Noire led them up a set of stairs covered in plush white carpet and down a hallway. “Here,” they said, pushing the door open and stepping aside proudly as though they had personally arranged this for them.

Merle stepped into the room and looked around. It wasn’t, they thought, all that different from the room Willow had prepared for them, if larger. There was a bed set into the corner, just as they liked, and bookshelves, and a dresser, a desk, and a closet. There were, they noted, no lamps for them to hit people with. That was probably for the best.

The biggest difference was that there was a red-haired woman in it. Merle remembered her from the hospital, largely because she was the most skilled at forcing lunch down their throat. They scowled accordingly. “Good day, Amelie,” they said.

Luckily, she was not offended by their lack of enthusiasm, her lone eye squinting as she smiled at them. Her many piercings caught the light, which was very distracting. They didn’t remember her having this many piercings in the hospital. “Hey, kiddo,” they said. “We picked out some sheets and stuff for you when Sabrina said you were coming. I hope you don’t mind purple. I had a hard time convincing Noire you wouldn’t appreciate Eevee-patterned bedding.”

They looked at the bed. It was adorned all in dark purple, which was a pleasing colour, but hit their heart hard. “It’s lovely,” they managed to say, choking back the pain that they weren’t sure they would ever be rid of.

Amelie frowned - had they not said the right thing? - and stood up. “Noire wants to stay with you tonight,” she said, gesturing to a rolled-up sleeping bag and pillow in the corner. The pillow had an Eevee pillowcase on it. In fact, upon closer inspection, they noted that the sleeping bag itself was adorned with tiny dancing Eevees wearing a variety of silly hats. “To help you get settled in.”

Merle tore their eyes away from the dancing Eevees. They had never actually seen a real Eevee before, though they were aware that Noire had one. “They do?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you don’t mind,” Noire said. They were smiling down at them hopefully. “I don’t get to see you much ‘cause you’re at Willow’s, and he and I don’t get along. But if you’re comfortable with me staying for the night, I’d like to.”

Looking directly at Noire’s face (and Blanche’s as well) was always painful, but the hope and affection they saw there was reassuring. As was the thought of not having to sleep by themself. “I’d like that,” they said honestly, and were rewarded when Noire’s face shone.

“Great!” they said. “I brought snacks, too!”

“Don’t go feeding them junk, Noire. They just had dinner.” Sabrina’s dry voice directly behind them made them jump. They hadn’t heard her approaching, and they twisted in Noire’s arms to see her holding out the duffle bag with their clothing in it. Noire unwound themself from around Merle enough to take the bag from her. “Then again, they could use the extra calories,” she added, eyeing Merle's scrawny frame with criticism.

“Okay, okay,” Noire said, tossing the bag to Amelie, who sighed and unzipped it. Merle watched her set the tablet on the night table and start putting clothes in the wardrobe.

“Did you remember to buy Merle a toothbrush?” Sabrina was asking Noire.

“Yes, Auntie. And a hairbrush, floss, some really awesome socks, some comics, um, body wash... Hey kid, do you like brown sugar scented?” Noire asked them. Their head was starting to feel heavy again.

“Yes,” they said. Brown sugar smelled like cookies. Like Alice.

“Okay. Here, you go brush your teeth and get some pajamas on - jeez, it’s obvious the Valor bitch picked these out. We’ll get you some better clothes tomorrow.” A toothbrush was pressed into their hands, as was a set of soft blue pajamas edged with lace. “Go get ready for bed. You’re asleep on your feet.”

“Should I have a bath?” they asked. Their voice sounded far away to their own ears.

“Not tonight. You look like you’ll pass out and drown,” Noire said, frowning down at them. They recognized that expression. It was worry. They were tired of being the recipient of worry. They’d rather be left alone (they desperately didn’t want to be alone).

They trudged into the hall and stopped dead, gazing around them. Where was the bathroom? Should they start opening doors until they found it? What if they went “out of bounds”?

Amelie came out of the bedroom and seemed to realize their problem. “This way, Merle,” she said. She put her hand lightly on their shoulder. People were always doing that. They could walk just fine by themself, except they were stumbling. The bathroom was around the corner, and huge. The tub was bigger and deeper than any tub they had ever seen. They were almost afraid that it could be used in water-based experiments, except that none of Cipher’s tanks had looked quite like that, and the bathroom lacked the necessary equipment.

Amelie left them, and they brushed their teeth mechanically. There was a green hairbrush with stars on the back that they assumed must be for them since they couldn’t imagine Sabrina or Noire owning something like that, and they used it to brush out their hair. Normally they would braid it for sleeping, but they didn’t have any hair ties, so this would have to do.

They put the pyjamas on and returned to the bedroom with their clothes gathered in their arms. Amelie was gone, but there was a laundry basket inside the door that they dumped the dirty clothes into. Where was Noire?

Just as they wondered it, Noire returned wearing a tank top and shorts for sleeping in. “All set?” they asked. Merle tugged on the hem of their shirt and nodded quickly, feeling suddenly uncertain in the new space.

Noire went over to their sleeping bag, clearly intending to lay it across the floor by their bed for the night. Merle, exhausted and desperate, stepped forward and caught the back of their tank top. Noire turned, surprised, and Merle pointed to the bed. “You may share with me,” they whispered. “I don’t mind.”

Noire stared at them for a moment, then smiled. “Okay,” they said. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“I’m sure,” Merle said. They watched Noire throw their Eevee patterned pillow and sleeping bag on the bed.

“Which side do you want?” Noire asked as they unrolled the sleeping bag. They gestured a hand at the bed. Merle pursed their lips, thinking.

“Next to the wall,” they decided. That way Noire would be the one who had to fight any threats that came through the door. Merle didn’t have the energy to.

“Alrighty,” Noire said. They neatly set up their side and patted the bed. “In you get, kiddo. I’ll get the light.” Merle scrambled to obey, crawling onto the bed and wiggling under the blankets on their side of the bed. Noire waited by the light switch for them to get settled. Once they were comfortable and only their chin was showing, they nodded and Noire flicked off the light. The room was instantly pitch black. Merle’s body seized up in terror, and they breathed in sharp pants, ears straining for any sound. Noire was silent, though, and Merle didn’t sense their approach until the bed dipped under their weight. Noire’s hands patted along the bed until they found Merle, giving their stomach a reassuring pat before they squirmed into their sleeping bag.

“There,” they said, satisfied.

The bed wasn’t big, so they were snuggled up close together. Noire’s warmth at their side made the dark less frightening. Noire was big. And they were the famed Blanche, a full transfer. They would be capable of killing anything that tried to take Merle away.

But they had thought that about Magpie too.

Chapter Text

The next morning Sabrina poked her head into Merle's bedroom around breakfast time, perplexed that Noire and Merle hadn’t shown up for breakfast yet (though really, it wasn’t surprising that Noire hadn’t shown up, but Willow had reported that Merle was extremely punctual about such things). She found the two of them curled in bed. At least, Merle was curled up on their side, their hands pressed into their throat as they frowned in their sleep. Noire was sprawled out, legs thrown over Merle, having somehow squirmed out of their sleeping bag during the night. It was quite a sight.

She shook her head and closed the door, leaving them there. She had no way of knowing when Merle had finally succumbed to sleep and wasn’t about to wake them. Instead, she settled herself at the table in her little breakfast nook, staring out the window at her bird’s-eye view of the city. It was still early, but the major highways were clogged with morning commuters. She sipped her coffee, savouring the fact that she didn’t have to be one of them today. She pulled out her phone and called Willow.

He picked up on the first ring. The anxious mother Torchic had been waiting for her call. “Hello? Sabrina?” he asked. There was a clatter and he swore softly. Then his voice returned, “Is Merle all right?”

“They’re fine,” she said. She could picture him in the kitchen juggling a frying pan in one hand and his phone in the other as he tried to prepare breakfast and talk to her at the same time. “They’re sleeping.”

“They’re what?” There was a crash and he swore again. He must have dropped the frying pan. “What do you mean they’re sleeping? They don’t sleep.”

“They are now,” Sabrina said. His disbelief made her wish she could gloat about how she was just that much better than him, but she knew it wasn’t true in this case. “I expect the reason Grisaille scared them so badly yesterday was because they were so exhausted. The way they were carrying on wasn’t sustainable. Something had to give eventually.”

“Yes, but-” Willow said.

“It undoubtedly helps that Grisaille isn’t here,” Sabrina said, cutting him off before he could get carried away. “While I’ve always been able to sense a desire to make friendly overtures in both children, the presence of a former rival caused both of them considerable stress. Merle especially since, as a Vert, Grisaille outranks them. Rouges are on the lower end of the spectrum,” she reminded him.

She could hear him sigh, and the sound of something sizzling. “Grisaille, please bring me the eggs,” he called away from the phone. His voice returned. “That can’t be the only reason,” he said. “I know they were stressed in the hospital, and then Grisaille being here made them stressed, but it can’t just be that...”

“I’m telling you, they were so tired that they passed out from exhaustion as soon as they felt they had no choice and felt safe enough to do so,” she said. Something tickled her brain. Something about the scene in the bedroom. Merle on their side, back tucked up against the wall and arms curled protectively against their chest, one bandaged and the other in a cast. Noire on the side of the bed closest to the door, their body between Merle and anything that entered.

“Noire,” she said abruptly.

“Pardon?” Willow said. She’d surprised him.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about your question.” She sipped her coffee, putting her thoughts in order. Outside a news helicopter circled, likely reporting the traffic conditions to the commuters stuck in the jam. “Noire stayed over last night.”

“Oh?” He didn’t sound surprised. Noire was protective, needy, and very cuddly, though they pretended they were none of the above. And they’d had dozens of sleepovers with Grisaille. Of course they had stayed for Merle’s first night in a new place.

“More specifically, they stayed in Merle’s room. I know they planned to sleep on the floor. I gave them strict orders not to be pushy because Merle might need space. They wouldn’t have crawled into bed with Merle unless Merle invited them.”

There was a silence while Willow thought about this. “I see,” he said finally. There was another silence, and Sabrina knew he was gathering his own thoughts. She waited. “Do you know that, the first night Merle stayed here, they asked if they were expected to sleep in the room alone?”

She hadn’t. “Noire mentioned something about them sharing a cell with the Indigo that day. Is that how that conversation came about?”

“Yeah. I thought they were worried that they would have to share with someone else who made them feel unsafe, so I reassured them that wouldn’t be the case. But Sabrina... do you think they were asking for company? That maybe they didn’t feel safe sleeping alone, but they couldn’t say so?” She could hear the guilt dripping from his voice, the unspoken ‘why didn’t I figure this out sooner?’

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s possible. But they wouldn’t have developed such a desire from sharing a cell with the Indigo. So, it would have to be from those two years between them disappearing from Cipher’s records and when we recovered them. It’s not your fault for not knowing. All we can do is try things, occasionally getting them right, and occasionally getting them wrong. That’s all that can be reasonably expected of us.”

He sighed again. The sizzling on his end was louder now, and she heard him ask Grisaille for plates. “You’re right, of course. Take care of them,” he told her.

“I will.” She hung up and set the phone on the table. She would do her best by them. Willow had to know that, no matter how he thought she’d failed with the twins.

##

Willow hung up on Sabrina’s call and divvied the breakfast onto two plates. He’d made too much, having gotten into the habit of cooking for three rather than two, so food remained in the frying pan. He avoided looking at it. It made him feel like a failure.

He had just sat down at the table across from Grisaille when his phone rang again. He checked his caller ID and smiled at Grisaille. “Please excuse me for a moment. Go ahead and eat without me,” he said, getting up from the table and venturing into the hallway for some privacy.

“All right, Professor,” Grisaille replied, neutral.

Willow closed himself in his bedroom and answered the call. “Good morning, Blanche,” he said.

“Why does Sabrina have Merle?” Their voice was cutting, the way it got when they were extremely angry and were fighting to keep control of their temper.

“Oh, you’ve already heard?” he said, his heart sinking. He’d known they wouldn’t take it well, so he’d tried to put off the conversation. At least until lunchtime, he’d thought. “I was going to call you later.”

“Noire left me a voicemail last night,” they said. Their voice vibrated with controlled fury. Willow winced. It didn’t matter whether Noire had called to gloat or just to inform them where and when Merle could be found from now on. Blanche was going to be furious because Sabrina had Merle, and because Noire knew before they did.

He leaned against the bedroom door. “Merle freaked out yesterday and hit Grisaille with a lamp,” he explained. “Grisaille responded by kicking them across the room. I had to remove them from the situation somehow. They both deserve to feel safe and secure. I trust Sabrina to-”

“How can you trust her?” Blanche demanded, their voice slicing through his hopes for a reasonable conversation like a blade. “She’s going to streamline them into Team Rocket just like she did with Noire. Can’t you see that?” Their voice rose. They had never spoken to him like that before, though they frequently snapped at Spark and Candela.

“Blanche-” he tried, but they weren’t finished.

“She was the closest thing we had to a parent, and she allowed Noire to abandon me. She stepped back and let it happen. Even though she knew how much it was hurting me! She essentially abandoned me, too. And now you want to leave Merle to her mercy?”

“I know you’re estranged from Sabrina, but-”

“And Noire’s going to spend all their time over there, coddling Merle and being a terrible influence!” Blanche couldn’t help the note of hysteria that entered their voice. They’d rather die than call Sabrina and ask if they could visit Merle for an afternoon at her penthouse. They didn’t want to talk to her. They didn't want to see her. The professor had made Merle as inaccessible to them as if he had sent them to the moon. And Blanche knew that Noire’s rooms in Rocket HQ were near enough to Sabrina’s penthouse that they would be over at her home at all hours, spending more time with Merle than they had spent with Blanche in years!

It was more than they could stomach.

They were dimly aware of Professor Willow talking, his tone soothing. “-hard for you. But they need a break from me and Grisaille for a while, and my only other option was to send them to a high security foster home, which I know neither you nor Noire would allow-”

“I could look after them!” Blanche blurted. They were gripping their phone so hard that the plastic creaked.

The silence on the other end of the line was telling. “Blanche,” the professor said gently, “last time I left Grisaille with you for a weekend, it was a disaster. You weren’t even the one to feed them. Annie did that. I’m sorry, but you’re not capable of taking care of Merle full time.”

“You do not trust me.” The words were as bitter as poison in their mouth.

There was another long pause, then a sigh. “You haven’t exactly proven yourself trustworthy in this specific situation.” The apology in Willow’s voice did nothing to lessen the blow. They disconnected the call before they could think better of it. They stared at the screen with unseeing eyes, oblivious to how the phone shook in their hand. He didn’t trust them. He had said as much. He didn’t think they were even capable of looking after a child.

Memories of the time Professor Willow left Grisaille with them to go to a conference rose unbidden in the back of their mind - how they had virtually ignored the child, let them sit motionless in their office for hours without making any attempt to engage or occupy them, that the professor was right and they had never been the one to provide the child with even a single meal.

They shoved the memories aside. They would not cry. They were no longer a useless, sniveling child. They turned on their heel and grabbed their gym bag. Normally Candela had to drag them to the gym since it brought back far too many memories of sparring with Noire, and they always had too much work to do to waste time on physical exercise anyway, but right now they really needed to punch something.

##

Blanche was downright frigid to Willow over the next week. They spoke to him only in a work capacity. If he wanted to give them updates on Merle, he had to feed them to an almost equally vexed Candela, who was at least still speaking to him no matter how much she disapproved. Candela would then pass the information on to Blanche, without mentioning that Willow had specifically asked her to pass it on.

As Sabrina had promised, Merle arrived on Friday afternoon at five o’clock precisely. Unfortunately, Blanche’s ire seemed to extend to their younger sibling, and they provided an excuse (passed on through Candela) as to why they were unable to spare a few hours during their weekend to come visit. If Merle realized that they were being shunned, they didn’t comment. Sabrina had decided it was time to get them a tutor and fill in the gaps in their education, so they arrived with homework that had to be done, which kept them busy. They had a lot of catching up to do, but they weren’t as far behind as Grisaille. Someone had obviously spent time teaching them during those mysterious two years where they were unaccounted for. On Saturday, he asked them who.

“Magpie, usually. Sometimes Alice,” they responded promptly, copying a problem from the math textbook with precise strokes of their pencil. They were seated at the kitchen table with Grisaille and Noire across from them and Willow adjacent to them. They had exchanged an awkward look and polite “pleased to see you”s with their sibling, but other than that they had not spoken to Grisaille at all.

“Who are they?” he asked. Usually Merle was tight-lipped about any mention of where they’d been before, so when they volunteered information Willow jumped on it.

“My family,” they said shortly.

Noire and Grisaille, who were poring over a biology textbook, glanced up at that. “Your family?” Willow asked, willing Noire not to say anything brash.

“Yes. They’re dead now.” The only sign of their distress was the way their pencil pressed harder into the paper as they worked their way through the problem. They had yet to touch the calculator Willow had set out, proving that they had inherited their siblings’ ability for mental calculation.

“Was it Cipher?” It was Grisaille who voiced the question, voice so soft it was almost a whisper. They were staring at Merle with restrained horror, their own pencil frozen in their hand.

“Yes,” Merle said. Willow was struggling to think of what to say. Should he voice sympathy? Press them for more details?

Merle closed the textbook before he had thought of what to say. “I have finished the questions assigned by my teacher,” they said in a monotone. They began to pack away their supplies in the yellow pencil case Sabrina had provided. “I believe Noire wished to take us to the arcade upon completion of our homework?” They stared expectantly across the table. Grisaille quickly went back to their homework. They had three questions left, and they did not want to be the cause of a hold up.

Willow had waited too long to ask, and now Merle had shut down the topic.

##

He brought it up with Blanche when they came over that Wednesday to visit with Grisaille. They tended to pick Wednesdays lately, because Noire was inevitably busy on Wednesday evenings and, since it was a weekday, Merle was not present. It was awkward having them in his home when they refused to speak to him. Usually they sat at the table making stilted conversation with Grisaille for an hour, stayed for dinner, and then fled. But despite the awkwardness, they kept showing up, though whether it was out of a genuine desire to bond with their sibling or their pride making them refuse to give up, he wasn’t sure.

“Dead?” they asked, their brow creasing. Despite the depressing topic, he still felt it was cause for small celebration that Blanche was speaking to him at all.

“That’s what they said. Cipher must have murdered them when they recaptured Merle,” he said. It was horrifying to think about, and he saw Blanche’s face tighten in sympathy. They had one arm draped across the back of Grisaille’s chair as they reviewed the child’s attempt at an essay. Essays were a strong point for neither Grisaille nor Merle, requiring more creative thought than either child possessed at this point. Merle’s were better, but not by much. Clearly Magpie and Alice had put some effort into teaching them to have their own thoughts, and then to express them.

Blanche was silent for a long moment. “That’s terrible,” they said finally. “I’m... sorry to hear that.” He could see his own helplessness reflected in their face. “No wonder they have nightmares,” they continued, surprising him. This was more than they’d said to him in weeks. “I always thought they seemed sad. It’s because they’re grieving for their family.”

He chose his next words carefully. Blanche was touchy about Sabrina. “Sabrina’s looking for a therapist,” he said. Blanche went rigid at the sound of her name. When he said “therapist” they scowled. Blanche hated anything to do with doctors, and they included therapists and the like in that category. “To work through their trauma, and because she thinks it will be helpful for their grief.”

Blanche remained silent. They set Grisaille’s essay down. “You should expand on this point,” they said, tapping a finger against the page. The child’s shoulders hunched at the criticism, but they nodded and picked up their pencil. They stared blankly at the paper, wanting to do what was asked of them but not sure how. Willow would have to help them later.

Blanche stood up and paced into the kitchen. When they didn’t return in a few minutes, Willow followed.

“Blanche?” he asked. They were standing with their hands braced on either side of the sink, staring hard at their reflection in the window.

“Have they asked about me at all?” they asked. The question was so abrupt that Willow didn’t immediately realize what they were referring to.

“Who?” he asked.

“Merle,” they said. Their gaze had dropped to the drain, though he doubted they saw it. Of course. Who else would they be talking about?

He didn’t want to answer, but he couldn’t lie to them. “No,” he said. Blanche's hands balled into fists on the counter.

“I see,” was all they said.

Willow wanted to fix this. He didn’t want Merle and Blanche’s fledgling bond destroyed because he hadn’t been able to keep Merle and Grisaille from pounding each other. He had initially been hopeful that Merle could be returned to him once they’d had time to rest and felt more comfortable with all the new people that had suddenly appeared in their life, but it was obvious that they felt more comfortable at Sabrina’s house than they had ever been at his. And as much as it hurt, he had to do what was best for the child. Even if Blanche never forgave them for it.

He raked a hand through his hair. There had to be a solution that would mollify Blanche. There had to be. “Perhaps,” he said cautiously, “if you spent more time with them. I mean one on one,” he said when they sent him an angry look. He didn’t want them to think he was chastising them for not coming to visit on the same days as Merle.

“I am not good at the social aspect of relationships,” Blanche said. “I don’t know how to interact with them.”

It was true that socializing wasn’t Blanche’s strong point. But they did have strong points. He just had to work with one of those. “But academics are a strong point of yours,” he said as the thought occurred to him. “And you’ve always done a great job helping Grisaille with their schoolwork. Maybe you could give Merle some extra tutoring one evening a week?”

Their brow creased as they considered it. “It would only have to be for an hour or two. As long as it’s consistent, Merle should start to feel comfortable with you. And their education will benefit. It does need to be a regular thing, though. Merle does better on a predictable schedule, so don’t commit to it if you don’t have time,” Willow said.

“I’ll think about it,” they said. “Sabrina would have to approve it.” They frowned when they said Sabrina’s name, but at least their hands had unclenched and they were standing straighter. They were feeling better about it. That was good.

Willow smiled. “If you decide this is what you want to do and give me a day of the week and time you’re available, I’ll arrange it with Sabrina. You won’t even have to talk to her,” he promised.

The last tension eased from Blanche’s body. For the first time in what felt like ages, they met his eyes. “I would appreciate that. Thank you, Professor. And I apologize for my earlier behaviour. I...” they let their voice trail off, tensing again.

“I know,” Willow said, going over and placing a hand on their shoulder. “Sabrina and Noire are a sore spot for you. I understand that. I can’t guarantee that Merle will never join Team Rocket, since that’s up to them, but I can promise you that it’s not Sabrina’s intention. And even if you don’t trust her, you can trust me.”

Blanche nodded. “All right, Professor.”

##

Once Blanche had provided them with a possible day and time (Tuesdays from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.), it was easy to arrange it with Sabrina. Apparently, while Merle had never inquired about Blanche’s absence in his presence, they had made a remark to Sabrina that Blanche must be very busy with work since they hadn’t seen them lately. In turn, Blanche was cheered to learn that Merle seemed to care about them after all.

However, there were some rules. Blanche had done poorly the first and last time a child had been entrusted to their care, so Sabrina and Willow both felt that there should be some structure around these afternoons to keep Blanche on track. For one thing, Blanche had to provide Merle with a snack around 8:00 p.m. What the snack was, Sabrina didn’t seem to care. “Noire feeds them all sorts of junk anyway. Blanche could hardly do worse,” she said when Willow asked her preferences. Since he doubted Blanche would fare well with that sort of freedom in a situation that would make them anxious, he specified fruit, yogurt, a sandwich, or raw veggies. Since all of these things were healthy and none of them were difficult or time-consuming to prepare, Blanche shouldn’t have a hard time.

Another rule was that they weren’t to leave Merle alone for any reason. Not even if an emergency cropped up with Mystic (Sabrina commented dryly that no emergencies would be caused by Team Rocket during the specified time frame. She would kill Noire personally if they pulled a stunt like that).

Tuesday evening rolled around, and Willow found himself constantly checking the time. Now Sabrina would be dropping Merle off at Blanche’s quarters. She wouldn’t leave the car and Blanche would meet Merle at the front doors, so there shouldn’t be any contact. Dozens of times he found himself pulling out his phone, always stopping himself in the middle of a text asking how the evening was going, did they remember to feed Merle their snack, did they need any guidance. He left the messages unsent, shaking his head. He couldn’t interrupt. Blanche had been touched to be given a second chance and was desperate to prove that they could be a responsible older sibling. He couldn’t shatter that by revealing just how much anxiety it was giving him. It helped to know that Sabrina would have no problem exercising such restraint. He couldn’t lose to her.

At 9:25 he received a text from Sabrina. Arrived home with Merle. They’re alive and had an ok time. Stop worrying.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Good. An “okay” time wasn’t a “great” time, but Merle’s personality had to be taken into account.

His cell phone started ringing in his hands. He glanced down, expecting the call to be from Sabrina, but it was Blanche. “Hello?” he said, surprised that they would be calling.

“I think I messed up, Professor,” Blanche said. They sounded so distressed that Willow was immediately alarmed. Sabrina said that Merle had an okay time! Had Merle lied to her?

“What happened, Blanche?” he asked as gently as possible. He was not going to reveal how alarmed he was until he knew what had happened.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Blanche said. “I usually help with Grisaille’s homework while you’re there, and I was admittedly lost without your guidance. I didn’t know where to start, and they kept expecting me to tell them what to do. It was a relief when I could take a break to give them their snack, but I wasn’t any more prepared once they were finished. I... I am not sure I am capable of helping them learn.”

Oh, Blanche. His heart lightened with relief. Nothing bad had happened. Blanche’s inferiority complex had reared its ugly head and, while that was unfortunate, it wasn’t the crisis that Willow had feared.

“Of course. You don’t have any teaching training, Blanche. It may take a couple sessions before you get the hang of it. You didn’t even know what level they're at with their studies, so of course you weren’t prepared.,” he reassured them. “Don’t sweat it. I know you. You’ll catch on fast.”

“You think so...?” they asked. They were relieved by his faith in them, that he didn’t think they were a total failure.

“Yes. And now that you know what to expect, you have an entire week to prepare for next Tuesday. Okay?”

“Okay,” they said. “Thank you, Professor. I won’t let you down.”

No, Willow thought after they hung up, I know you won’t.

##

True to his word, Blanche’s next tutoring session with Merle went much better. They’d had more time to prepare, and to recall their own tutoring sessions with Noire. They’d had less of that, since they’d been younger when they were rescued from Cipher, and both they and Noire were extremely bright students, but they had enough experiences to draw on.

It also helped that Willow had gone behind their back and requested that the tutor provide more detailed notes about the concepts she was working on teaching Merle, and how she was trying to teach them. Merle attended their next session with a duotang of those notes, which they presented to Blanche. Willow had been worried that Blanche would be offended, but instead they were pleased by the tutor’s investment in Merle’s learning and that she would think to take the time to provide mini lesson plans. They didn’t even guess that Willow and Sabrina had intervened.

However, this was not problem solved.

Sabrina called him later in the week after Merle’s third session with Blanche. It was clear that she was fighting for patience. Noire, she explained, had found out about the tutoring sessions despite her best efforts. Noire could be heard in the background, loudly proclaiming about the unfairness of it all. Sabrina snapped at them to be quiet. Returning to the phone, she explained that, according to Noire, the only way to even things out was to give them Grisaille on corresponding evenings.

“I don’t suppose they’ll be doing any homework with Grisaille?” Willow asked, already knowing the answer.

Sabrina actually snorted. “Absolutely not.”

He had no good reason to refuse, so the visits were granted. Absolutely nothing educational happened on these visits; however, Grisaille developed in-depth knowledge of every arcade game within six blocks of Rocket Headquarters, became an expert on how to swirl soft serve ice cream, could recognize most of the Rocket grunts, agents, and squad leaders by name and rattle off their preferred coffee orders on command, and also recite their best scores on the aforementioned arcade games. Sabrina also told him that Grisaille had earned the obsessive protection of all Team Rocket agents who frequented the establishments around HQ.

Willow opted not to tell Blanche about any of this. They could find out on their own.

Chapter Text

It was nearly ten by the time Noire came down the stairs with Merle. “Auntie!” they called out to the penthouse. “We’re hungry!”

Merle stood at their side, fidgeting. Noire had gone through all the clothes that Sabrina had packed for them, trying to find something that hadn’t been picked out by Candela. Failing that, they had settled on a plain black sweatshirt and yoga pants for the child, which at least wouldn’t show Candela’s influence as much as some of the other clothes. Now that they weren’t so tired, Sabrina’s home seemed huge and strangely empty. Everything was exceedingly modern, with large windows, stainless steel appliances, and a minimalist aesthetic. It felt like nobody lived there.

Sabrina had relocated to her office to work while she waited for Noire and Merle to wake up. Now she came down the hall, her heels making no sound on the thick carpet. “You’re awake. Did you sleep well?” she asked, eyeing Merle in particular.

They didn’t look at her, instead fixing their gaze at the carpet. “Yes, Madame,” they murmured.

“They didn’t stir the entire night,” Noire said, triumphant. They reached across to take one of Merle’s hands.

Sabrina smiled, which softened her harsh face. “I’m glad to hear it. Would you two like to go out for breakfast?”

“Yes, Auntie!” Noire said, while Merle murmured an assent.

They ended up at a little restaurant around the corner from the condo tower. It was a nice day, so Sabrina insisted on a table on the patio. There was a Lilipup at the table next to theirs, but it was on a leash and Merle took the farthest seat from it, and seemed to be okay, though they kept peering around their menu at it to make sure it stayed over there where it belonged.

“You need any help reading the menu?” Noire asked, leaning into their space.

“No. I can read food words okay, but thank you for offering,” Merle said, keeping their gaze fixed on the page. They were frowning. “What’s in this?” they asked Noire, pointing at something on the menu. Noire bent their head down to explain, and Sabrina watched them.

It should be odd, she mused, to know you were looking at someone and their clone. It should be unnerving, after all, to see two people who looked so identical. But the eeriness of it was lost on her. She had raised Blanche and Noire, and nobody who didn’t know them well had ever been able to tell them apart growing up. They thought they could, but on the occasions where Noire was having a quiet day or Blanche was strangely friendly they always got confused.

Noire’s breakfast choices were predictable. Pancakes drowned in syrup, whipped cream, and fresh strawberries. There were scrambled eggs and hash browns too, but Sabrina knew the pancakes were the star. By contrast, Merle was a bit perplexing. They had studied the menu hard, and then chosen oatmeal, a parfait, and a muffin off the sides menu.

Sabrina neatly cut off a bite of her omelet with her fork, content to let Noire do the work of coaxing food into Merle. Perhaps because they finally had a good night’s sleep, Merle ate without complaint. They didn’t eat everything, but Sabrina was satisfied with small victories.

They were finishing up their meal when Sabrina’s phone rang. She checked the screen and got up. “Sorry, I have to take this.” She walked out of earshot.

“C’mon, kid, just three more bites of parfait?” Noire wheedled, pushing the dish closer to Merle.

They frowned at Noire. “Just three?” they asked. Noire nodded. “Fine.”

Sabrina returned as they were swallowing their last bite. She looked irritated. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been called away. Noire, can you keep Merle occupied for today? I should be back by this evening, but if it looks like that won’t be possible, I’ll let you know,” she said, pulling her coat and her purse off the back of her chair and sliding into them.

Noire looked like she had just given them the best present ever. “Sure, Auntie!” they said. “We’ll have a blast, won’t we, Merle?”

Merle looked between them and smiled like they weren't sure what was going to be blasted. “Okay.”

##

“Remind me why we’re here again?”

Amelie and Noire waited on the bench outside the changing room. The mall wasn’t busy at that time on a weekday, so there were only a few other groups milling around. Amelie looked less than impressed, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. Noire was leaning forward eagerly, waiting for Merle to come out of the changing room.

“Amelie,” they whined. “I told you. The Valor bitch picked out all of Merle’s clothes. That’s no good. You know she marks her territory with clothes. I want Merle to have some clothes from us, too.”

“’Us?’” Amelie asked. Her question was answered before Noire could open their mouth. Mike and Lief appeared, arms laden with clothes.

“Boss, look! We found a whole bunch of cute shit!” Lief said, holding up a spangled shirt. “You said the kiddo likes purple, right?”

Mike sifted through his own pile. “It’s hard when you have to avoid anything with pokemon on it,” he mused. “It eliminates 3/4 of the store. See this Sylveon shirt? It’s hella cute, but do you think they’d wear it?”

“It’s adorable,” Noire gushed, plucking it from his hands in order to admire it. “They’d look so cute in it!”

“It comes in pink and white, too.”

“Let’s get them all.”

“Can you afford all that, Boss?” Amelie asked, ever practical.

“Sabrina gave me a voucher.”

“Well, in that case, there’s a pair of really cute boots that caught my eye...”

##

The Sylveon shirt and boots combo was as cute as predicted. Noire cooed softly, snapping pictures with their phone while Amelie fussed with Merle’s hair.

“Are you sure you don’t mind that it has a pokemon on it?” Amelie asked, not for the first time. She pulled a comb from seemingly nowhere since her tight dress had no room for pockets, and combed their bangs to the side. She secured the hair in place with little blue clips to match Merle’s shirt.

Once Amelie had withdrawn her hands, Merle examined their reflection in the mirror. “Yes, it’s fine,” they said. They smoothed their hands over the Sylveon emblazoned on their chest. “It’s not a real pokemon. It’s only a picture. I’m okay with pictures.”

Noire’s face lit up at this news. They spun. “Lief! The socks!”

Lief saluted. “On it, Boss! The tights too?”

“Definitely the tights!”

##

Noire made Lief and Mike carry the bags, none of them willing to risk bringing out Amelie’s Lucario to help. They stopped at a food stall to buy crepes. Merle stared at their strawberry and whipped cream crepe with a sad expression.

“What’s the matter?” Noire asked, scooting closer on the bench they shared and wrapping an arm around Merle’s shoulders.

“Nothing,” Merle said. For the first time, they ate their entire meal without coaxing. They were strangely quiet after, and the others were at a loss about how to cheer them up. Amelie sat beside them while Noire and the guys went to check out the video game store.

“Is there anything else you need while we’re here? Or want? You know Noire will get you virtually anything you ask for,” Amelie said.

Merle was watching an artificial fountain set in the wall. They lifted a hand and pressed it into the stream of water, watching it part around their fingers. “...If, if it isn’t too much trouble,” they began in a soft, timid voice that she had to lean down to hear. “Then... a little light? For night time?”

“A nightlight?”

“I do not know the word in English. But my room gets very dark.” They removed their hand from the fountain, face shadowed.

“And you don’t like the dark,” Amelie guessed.

“No.” They peeked up at her. “Do you think Sabrina would mind?”

“Not at all. C’mon, let’s go find one while the children are busy,” Amelie said. She offered a hand, and they took it. Their scarred fingers curled around hers and their thumb traced small circles on her hand, and her heart did a strange maternal flutter in her chest.

Finding a nightlight at the mall took a bit of searching, but eventually they found a store that sold them. Merle crouched down in front of the shelves and eyed the selection carefully, then pointed one out. “I like that one,” they told Amelie.

“The moon one?” she asked, leaning closer to get a better look. It was a pain only having one eye.

“Yes. Isn’t it pretty?”

“Definitely.” She tucked the box under her arm. “Anything else?”

“Some puzzles? And, maybe, something to cuddle? I would like something soft. But not a pokedoll,” they added hastily.

“Pictures are okay, but not dolls?” Amelie asked.

“That’s correct.”

“Gotcha. C’mon, I think I see some little throw pillows over there. Let’s give them a squeeze, see if any of them suit you.”

##

“Amelieeee, where did you go?” Noire complained when Amelie and Merle returned.

“Just picked up a couple extra things for Merle,” Amelie said, offering the bag for them to look through.

Noire dug through the bag, noting the nightlight, the puzzles, the soft blue pillow that was the perfect size to snuggle. They nodded, satisfied, and passed the bag back to Amelie. “Looks good! Are you ready to go, or is there anything else you need?” Noire asked, turning their attention to Merle.

Merle stared back. They looked a little overwhelmed, Noire thought. “I cannot think of anything else,” they replied after a moment’s thought. Anxious, they reached out to grip the cuff of Noire’s button-up shirt. “Is it okay that I got a little light... a night light? Sabrina won’t think I’m being... baby-like?” they fumbled over the unknown word.

Noire ruffled Merle’s hair. “Course not. She'll want you to have whatever makes you comfortable,” they said, eyes going soft. “If that’s a nightlight, then that’s what you’ll have.”

They bid farewell to Lief and Mike, who seemed to have other plans for the afternoon. Noire, Amelie, and Merle returned to Sabrina’s apartment. Amelie disappeared into the bedroom to cut off tags and put clothes away. Secretly, she despaired of getting all the clothes to fit in the wardrobe and closet. Noire had gotten carried away with the discovery that Merle didn’t mind pokemon on their clothes. They had gotten the entire Eeveelution line of shirts, socks, tights, leggings, and sleepwear, in all available colours. Amelie felt it was excessive, but she knew better than to voice that opinion to Noire. Her boss thought that life could only be improved the more Eevee paraphernalia that was squeezed into it.

In the meantime, Merle was accidentally getting acquainted with the real thing.

Noire had gone to Sabrina's bedroom to let Petit out of her pokeball for a little while, without realizing that the door hadn’t latched properly. When the Eevee put her weight on it, it opened and she dashed down the hallway, relishing her freedom. She stopped at the sight of Merle sitting at the kitchen table, running their hands over their new cuddle pillow. She ran forward to greet the human she didn’t know. Merle heard the patter of her paws on the tile and turned. Their eyes widened in alarm as the ball of brown fur streaked toward them.

A gasp and they lunged out of the chair. They leaped onto the table, and from table to countertop. Their foot knocked a mug off the counter as they scrambled to stand with a foot on each side of the sink. Petit paused on the floor in front of them, puzzled at the behaviour of her potential new friend. She stood on her hind feet, bracing her front feet on the cabinet for balance. She yipped at the child, trying to encourage them to come down and play.

Merle made a terrible, distressed sound. “Noire,” they tried to call for their sibling, but they couldn’t quite get their voice to work. It came out as a whisper. “Noire, your-” Their throat closed up in fear as the Eevee jumped to try and sniff them. They leaned away, their back pressing against the cool windowpane. They looked around wildly. There was a box of poffins that Noire had put on top of the refrigerator after breakfast, well out of Petit’s reach. In desperation, Merle shuffled along the counter and shoved their hand into the box, pulling out a handful. Petit’s ears pricked up at the sight of the treats.

Merle threw the poffins as far away from them as they could. Three poffins sailed into the living room with Petit in pursuit. The second her attention was diverted, Merle leaped off the countertop and ran down the hallway.

“Merle, what’s-” Noire asked when Merle raced by, but they didn’t pause. The bedroom door slamming behind them cut off the rest of Noire’s question. Merle leaned against the door, panting. They closed their eyes, trying to get the shaking to stop by sheer willpower. They were all right. The Eevee hadn’t touched them. They sank down to sit against the door, curling in on themselves. No. They would not cry. Nothing had happened. They were being ridiculous.

The tears came anyway.

They were such a coward. Such a display would never be tolerated at Cipher.

They swiped their streaming eyes with their arm. A knock on the door behind them made them jump and crawl away from it, pressing their back against the bed instead.

“Merle?” Noire called, voice muffled by the wood between them. “Are you okay?”

Merle scrubbed at their face again. “Yes!” they called back. Their voice wavered a little, but sounded normal enough despite that. They were good at pretending.

“You don’t look okay.”

If it were possible to leap out of one’s own skin, Merle would have done it. The sound of Amelie’s voice frightened them that badly. As it was, they tried to jump up, stumbled, and fell flat on their own face. How could they have forgotten Amelie was in the room?

Then her hands were on them, gently helping them up. “There now, it’s okay,” she said, sitting next to them and pulling them into her lap. Were they still crying? They touched their cheeks to check, and found them wet. Amelie cuddled them close, using one hand to tuck their head against her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“Amelie!” Noire called from the other side of the door. “What happened?”

“I don’t know yet!” she replied. “But Merle is very upset.” In a quieter voice, she asked, “What’s the matter, baby? Did you get hurt?”

Merle buried their face in her neck. They weren’t sure why they couldn’t stop crying, but Amelie was warm and surprisingly soft. “I-I-” they choked out. There were scraping sounds coming from the other side of the door, and then it opened. Noire dropped the lock pick and knelt next to Amelie and Merle.

“Mon petit chouchou, are you hurt?” they asked in French, their eyes scanning them for injuries.

“Close the door!” Merle wailed. “She’ll come in!”

Surprised, Noire kicked the door shut behind them. Just in time, because there was a loud thud as Petit’s head collided with it. Noire winced. “Oh,” they muttered, understanding now why Merle was so upset. They scooted closer to run their hand in soothing strokes down Merle’s back. “Sorry, kid. I should have kept a closer watch on her,” they said.

“It’s not- it’s not your fault,” Merle hiccuped between sobs. They kept their face burrowed into Amelie’s neck while both adults talked soothingly to them. They were so embarrassed. An Eevee couldn’t do much harm to them. They knew that. But they still couldn’t make the shaking stop.

##

When Sabrina arrived home that night, the house was dark and quiet. She tossed her keys and her purse on the small table by the door and went in search of her young charge.

She found them in their room, curled up in a ball with Amelie on one side and Noire on the other. The room was dimly lit by a small moon-shaped nightlight plugged into the wall - a recent acquisition, since they hadn’t had it that morning. In the faint light, she could see that Merle’s eyes were closed and their breathing suggested that they were asleep. Noire and Amelie were awake and watching Korean dramas on Noire’s phone with the volume on low. Both looked up when she appeared in the doorway. She beckoned for them to come over.

“Everything all right here?” she asked when they joined her in the hallway, keeping her voice at a whisper.

They followed her to the kitchen, relating the days adventures and the incident with Noire’s Eevee while she got herself a glass of water.

She sipped at the glass. Noire finished talking and turned the question to her. “What about you? Was it Giovanni that called you away?” they asked.

She shook her head. “No. Gang activity is getting bad in the northeastern quadrant of the city. Baxter is in charge of keeping them from infringing too far into our territory. They’ve been getting cocky lately, and he wants me to send you to slap them back,” she explained. “I went to see the situation myself, to see whether it was as bad as he claimed. I think it’s worth your intervention.”

“Oh. When do you want us to go?” Noire asked.

“Immediately.”

Noire’s face fell. They glanced in the direction of Merle’s room. “But I wanted to stay with Merle tonight,” they protested. “They’re still so scared. Can’t we go clobber the bastards in the morning?”

Sabrina fixed them with a stare. “Our intelligence tells us that they’re planning a raid on one of our offices in the early morning,” she said. “You need to be in position well beforehand to teach them precisely why it’s a bad idea to mess with Team Rocket.”

Their shoulders drooped. “Gotcha. I’ll go. But I hate leaving them. Take good care of them while I’m gone, okay?”

“Of course. You’ll be back soon enough. It’s not as though I’m sending you out of the region, Noire.”

Amelie gave her a nod. She would go wherever Noire went, of course. Sabrina watched while the pair reluctantly put on their shoes and left.

Once the door closed behind them, she let out a breath and rubbed her temples. God, she was exhausted. Baxter had insisted on making her read all of his reports over the last six month period. Completely unnecessary. She would have accepted a summary. The NE office was a mess, and Baxter was an arrogant idiot. How he’d ever ended up in charge of it was a mystery to her. But then, he had managed to keep the gangs in line until now, so clearly he must be doing something right, even if she couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be.

She pulled out the little unmarked bottle she kept in her purse for headaches like the one that pounded at the base of her skull. She popped two pills, chasing them down with a gulp of water. Now, bed. She felt ready to drop.

##

Sabrina woke while it was still dark, senses on high alert. She was reaching for the weapon on her nightstand before her eyes fully opened. Holding it in her lap, she listened for the sound that had woken her. No, not a sound. A presence, tingling at the edge of her consciousness.

Tap tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap.

Something or someone tapped a soft rhythm on her door. With her headache gone, she was able to reach out with her mind to the consciousness on the other side of the door. Her searching mind brushed against Merle’s guarded one. Even with their defences up, she could feel it when they sensed her.

Their body stiffened, primed to run. Rather than do so, they opened a small crack in their mental shields just big enough for her to feel their fear, anxiety, and need for comfort.

They’d had a nightmare, and they’d come to find her.

She put her weapon away. “Come in,” she called. She preferred to speak French when it was just the two of them. There was a brief pause before the door opened and Merle shuffled through. Sabrina’s eyes were adjusted to the dark, and she could see the embarrassed set of their shoulders and that they were cuddling something soft and round to their chest. They didn’t speak, and hovered just inside the door, staring at their toes as they curled and uncurled them.

“Merle. What do you need?” she asked. It was better to be concrete with the child. Asking them what was wrong only ever earned her a blank stare.

“Can I sleep with you?” Merle asked so quietly that she had to ask them to repeat it.

“Why?” she asked. Not that she was bothered by it, but the request was surprising since they didn’t seem to be very attached to her.

“I am afraid,” they admitted. Soft. Ashamed.

“Climb in, then,” she said, hoping that they were a quiet sleeper. They scampered over and she waited for them to get settled before lying down herself. The rustling of the sheets nearly drowned out their quiet thank you.

##

When Noire returned the next morning, Sabrina was sitting up in bed with Merle curled next to her, their head in her lap. Her hand was in their hair, stroking gently.

“Are they sleeping?” Noire whispered, leaning against the door frame.

The mattress bounced as Merle sat up, rubbing their eyes. They were wearing the same clothes as yesterday, since they’d never changed into pyjamas. One of their little braids was caught in the collar of their shirt. Sabrina tugged it free while Merle yawned. “I am awake,” they mumbled. They dropped their hands, blinking sleepily at Noire. “Good morning, Noire. What happened to your face?”

There was a square bandage taped to Noire’s cheek. A bruise was beginning to form around one of their eyes as well. Noire’s hand raised automatically to cover the injuries. “I had a mission this morning,” they said. “I took a blow to the face. But I’m okay, don’t worry.”

Merle swung their legs over the side of the bed, looking concerned. “A fight?” At Noire’s confirmation, they frowned. “Did you win?” In Merle’s mind, victory was paramount. Losing a fight meant unspeakable consequences. A slight tremor ran through their body at the thought.

Noire met Sabrina’s eyes over Merle’s head. “Hell yeah,” they said. The mission was a success. The gangs had retreated back to their own territory, having learned the might of the Beast of Orre, Team Rocket’s greatest weapon.

“Good,” Merle said. They stood and crossed to the doorway, patting Noire’s arm as they passed by. Their footsteps faded down the hall, and a door closed.

Noire and Sabrina stared at each other across the bedroom. Other than the superficial injuries to Noire’s face, Sabrina couldn’t see any other injuries. But they had clearly gone home to shower and change, and they were wearing a hoodie and jeans. If there were injuries beneath their clothes, she couldn’t know about them just by a visual inspection.

“Were you hurt at all?” she asked, eyes shrewd while she waited for their answer. She thought not. Amelie would have reported it to her immediately if they had been harmed. However, she wanted to make sure.

“Nah. One of them got a lucky swipe in and nailed me across the face, but he was the only one. The rest of them were pathetic compared to us,” Noire said, shoving their hands into their pockets and leaning back against the door frame. They could be lying, but the cocky smirk on their face told Sabrina that they were probably telling the truth. “They weren’t expecting us at all. We hit them fast and hard and sent them running. They didn’t get a chance to counterattack.”

“Good,” she said. She slid out of the bed and into a black silk robe. “Give me a moment to get dressed, and I’ll be out to start breakfast.”

“Sure, Auntie.”

##

Merle reappeared dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. To Noire’s delight, it was the lavender shirt with an Espeon on the front. “Lookin’ cute, Merle,” Noire said, beaming at them as they came to sit next to them at the table. Merle offered a thin smile and drummed their fingers on the tabletop.

Sabrina entered the kitchen a moment later, in the middle of pulling her black hair into a sleek ponytail. “How did you sleep?” she asked Merle. She had fallen back to sleep shortly after they’d crawled into bed with her and had woken up to sunlight streaming through the window and a pair of green eyes fixed on her face, waiting for her to wake up before they got out of bed to go to the bathroom. They hadn’t wanted to disturb her by moving around before she was awake. When they returned from the bathroom, they had settled in her lap. It was a very sweet start to her morning.

“Better,” Merle replied. “Do you require assistance preparing breakfast?”

“No, I can manage. Thank you, though,” she said, offering them a smile. She made omelets for everyone, as Noire claimed that they hadn’t eaten breakfast. Sabrina suspected that this wasn’t true, but it wasn’t much additional effort to whip up a third omelet, and it could only be to the child’s benefit to eat together with their family. A bonding activity.

After breakfast, Noire dragged Merle into the living room to watch a movie. Sabrina watched them for a moment as Noire settled on the couch, patting the cushion next to them until Merle sat on it. Then they suctioned themself to Merle’s side, wrapping both arms around their neck and pressing their cheek against Merle’s. Merle grimaced, but didn’t try to move away. Sabrina hoped that Noire wouldn’t push it too far, but for now she couldn’t see the harm. She turned her back on them to continue to her office. Noire would keep an eye on them long enough for her to finish the work she’d fallen behind on yesterday.

Chapter Text

Willow checked on Grisaille in the rear view mirror. They were quiet, watching the world go by through the window of the car. Willow masked his unease. He could no longer remember how Sabrina had talked him into this. Grisaille had slept over at Noire’s many times, even spent entire weekends there, and nothing had ever gone wrong. Noire was very reliable when it came to taking care of their smaller siblings. But that had been before Merle was in the picture. Willow was going to be out of the region for a business trip and needed someone to look after Grisaille for the weekend, and Noire had immediately offered. It wasn’t necessary for both children to be in Noire’s care since Sabrina wasn’t going anywhere, but Noire insisted that they wanted to have both their little siblings over for the weekend. Noire was adamant that they would keep a close eye on them and no fights would occur. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that he found it more comforting coming from the Rocket Executive than he did when it came from Blanche. Maybe it was because Noire had spent over half their life looking after Blanche, and Blanche had never had someone to look after.

He pulled up outside one of Noire’s safe houses. Once he parked, he double-checked the address to make sure this was the one Noire had specified. He needn’t have bothered: The door opened and Noire waved excitedly at them, Merle peeking around their body. They offered a shy smile and a wave, which Grisaille returned once they had gotten out of the car. Willow relaxed slightly. Grisaille and Merle had softened to each other during their regular weekends together, though he still wouldn’t call them “friendly.”

“Got everything?” he asked Grisaille as he got out of the car to walk them to the door. He touched their shoulder lightly, to reassure himself that they would be okay.

“Yes, Professor,” they said. They climbed the steps to where Noire and Merle waited. Grisaille offered a brighter smile to their older sibling and held their arms out.

“May I have a hug?” they asked. Noire beamed and wrapped their arms around Grisaille.

“I’m so excited that you’re here,” they said, ruffling Grisaille’s hair when they released them. “Here, let me take your bag.”

“Thank you, Noire,” they said, holding the bag out to them. Noire disappeared down the hallway to put it away and give Willow a moment to say goodbye.

“You be good for Noire, all right?” he said unnecessarily. Grisaille was always on their best behaviour. “I’ll be back to get you on Sunday evening. Can I have a hug goodbye?”

Grisaille nodded. “Have a good trip,” they said, hugging him around the middle.

Willow was slightly teary when they released him. He hated leaving them for more than a few hours. “I will,” he said.

“Have a good trip,” a quiet voice echoed from the doorway. Willow turned to see that Merle was still hovering. He had forgotten they were there. “Thank you, Merle. I will,” he said, offering them a smile. Noire returned as he spoke, brushing their hands together briskly.

“All right, did everyone say goodbye?” they asked. Merle and Grisaille both nodded. “Great. See ya, Professor.” They herded the children inside and closed the door without further comment. Willow trudged to his car. It would be fine, he told himself. Noire could handle them.

##

“Okay!” Noire said, surveying their siblings with their hands on their hips. Merle and Grisaille had assembled in the living room. They had dinner in the oven. Casserole was easy to make, and Merle had responded with rare enthusiasm when Noire had asked if they liked it, so that was a win on that front. “Dinner should be done in about ten minutes. You two go wash your hands. When you’re done that, Merle can set the table. Grisaille, you pour water for everyone.”

Noire’s instinct when faced with their smaller siblings was always to do everything themself, the way they always had for Blanche. However, the children seemed to get satisfaction out of the small tasks they set them. Always eager to please, they scampered off to the bathroom. Noire kept an ear on them while they checked on the casserole for the dozenth time. They had promised Willow that everything would go well, and while they didn’t care a whit about the old bastard who had taken Blanche from them, they knew full well that if they screwed this up, their visiting privileges would be revoked.

All they heard from the bathroom was running water and quiet chatter. Satisfied that the kids were behaving themselves for now, Noire waited for them to return. They came out shortly. Merle pulled plates and cutlery out of the cupboards while Grisaille grabbed glasses. They went and set them around the table, and Grisaille came back for a pitcher of water to fill the glasses with and set on the table. The oven timer beeped, and Noire donned oven mitts and pulled the bubbling casserole from the oven and set it on the table. Merle fetched a serving spoon and very meticulously doled casserole out onto the plates, frowning as they still got strings of gooey cheese everywhere.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” Noire said, patting their head and gesturing for them to sit down.

They finished dinner and were just starting the washing up when there was a knock at the door. Noire frowned. They weren’t expecting anyone, and nobody but Willow and Sabrina were supposed to know which safe house they were at. That was the point of a safe house, after all. They gestured for the kids to go into the small living room where they would be out of sight of anyone at the door. Once they had obeyed, Noire grabbed their gun out of a drawer and padded down the hall. They peered through the peephole, then flung the door open with a scowl.

“What the hell, Spark?” they demanded.

Spark grinned at them. He was laden down with plastic bags and looked so pleased with himself that Noire wanted to introduce their fist to his nose. “Heya, Noire! I heard you had the littles for the weekend, so I came to play!” Noire opened their mouth to say something scathing. Sensing this, Spark shoved one of the plastic bags into their hands, knocking them off balance. “I brought snacks and movies.”

Noire glanced up. “What kind of snacks?” they asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“I got you your Snickers,” Spark said, holding up another bag. “Also pudding, marshmallows, hot chocolate, um, a bag of baby carrots so that Uncle Willow won’t be mad, licorice...” He opened the bag and glanced in to remind himself what was in there. “Oh, and some fudge from the bakery down the street. Mike says it’s fantastic.”

Noire was going to kill Mike. But first, they weren’t one to turn down free snacks. “Fine,” they said, huffing and shoving the gun into the waistband of their pants. “You can stay. But only for a couple hours.”

They led the way back into the house. Spark locked the door behind them, even remembering to do the security chain. At least he was taking the kids' safety seriously. “All clear!” they called so that Merle and Gris wouldn’t worry. “It’s just Spark.”

Merle’s head poked around the corner of the living room, shortly followed by Grisaille’s. “Hello, Spark,” they said, not quite in unison.

“Hey!” Spark said, grinning at them. He sniffed the air. “Mm, something smells good.”

“There is leftover chicken casserole. We were about to put it away. Would you like some?” Merle offered.

“That would be great. I’m starving,” Spark said. Merle scampered into the kitchen to get him a plate while he crouched in front of the TV, digging around the entertainment centre for the DVD player. “I brought some movies for ya,” he said to Grisaille.

“Oh?” they asked politely. Then, sensing that they were perhaps supposed to ask further, “Which ones?”

“Um, let’s see...” He gestured for Noire to give him the bag they were holding, and dug through it. “I got Quest for Camelot, Titan A. E., and Sleeping Beauty,” he said, showing them each DVD case in turn. Grisaille considered them, and then pointed at Titan A. E. Probably because it had a spaceship on the cover. “Great! I’ll just get that set up for ya.”

Merle returned with a steaming plate heaped high with casserole, and a fork. They set it on the coffee table. “Your food is here, Spark. I will go finish the washing up,” they said. They started toward the kitchen, but Noire grabbed their arm. They flinched, which made Noire flinch in turn because they hadn’t meant to frighten their small sibling.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve grabbed you,” they said, releasing Merle’s arm. “I just wanted to say, don’t worry about it. I can clean up. You guys get the movie started with Spark.”

Their brow creased while they blinked up at Noire with those big eyes. “We will be done faster if I help,” they said. Noire’s heart immediately turned to goo. It couldn't possibly be legal for one child to be so cute.

“Sure. Thanks,” they said. With Merle’s help, they cleaned up the dishes and put the leftovers away in record time. Grisaille popped in partway through to bring in Spark’s empty plate, and then disappeared back to the living room. Finished, Noire and Merle went out to find that Grisaille and Spark had the DVD ready to go, and had arranged blankets and cushions into a cozy little nest - the nest was definitely Spark’s idea - and placed all the snacks on the coffee table within easy reach.

“Hey, Noire, go pop this,” Spark said, tossing Noire a package of popcorn.

Noire scowled at him, brandishing the popcorn. “Pop your own damn popcorn.” Spark gave them a Look. “Yes, Spark,” they said, and dashed into the kitchen with Grisaille and Merle staring curiously after them. They put the popcorn in the microwave to pop, and went to the bedroom to get something. Petit shot between their legs and disappeared down the hallway in the direction of the living room. Noire whirled. “No! Get back here!” they yelled, running after her. They rounded the corner to find that Petit had leaped into the lap of a wide-eyed Merle.

“Sorry, Merle,” they said, picking across the pillows to them. They scooped their hands around the Eevee’s middle and lifted her up while she made loud outraged noises. “She escaped.”

“It is all right,” Merle breathed, though they were slightly pale and weren’t taking their eyes off the Eevee. They were faring better than Grisaille, who had leaped onto the back of the couch and had one foot braced on Spark’s collarbone for balance. To Spark’s credit, he didn’t complain, merely reached up and placed a hand on Grisaille’s calf to help steady them.

“Easy there,” he said in the voice he used to soothe hurt pokemon. “It’s just Noire’s Eevee.”

“She surprised me,” Grisaille said, hopping from the back of the couch to the floor in a single, graceful leap. They found a cushion to settle on, looking much more relaxed now that they knew the potential threat was a pokemon they were familiar with. Noire wasn’t taking chances, and they gave their Eevee a stern talking to as they marched down the hall and deposited her in their room, cutting off her protests by shutting the door. As much as they adored her, they didn’t need her frightening their siblings right now.

They went back into the living room and settled on the couch. Spark moved to sit next to them, and they jabbed an elbow in his side. “I’m spending time with my siblings this weekend,” they reminded him, scowling.

“Aw, c’mon Noire, we can all fit,” he whined.

“I want to sit with my siblings,” they said.

Merle had opened a chocolate pudding cup and was licking the top. They grabbed a spoon and decided to settle the argument by squeezing themself between Noire and Spark on the couch. “Is this good?” they asked, glancing between them. They didn’t think this would make either of them angry, but they wanted to be certain. Both looked amused, so it seemed that everything was fine. Grisaille nestled into Noire’s other side, and Spark piled blankets over everyone. Once he decided that everyone was safe and cozy in his nest, he grabbed the remote and started the movie.

Midway through the movie, Merle got up to use the restroom. When they came back, they settled on the floor next to Noire’s legs, wrapping a blanket around themself and resting their head on Noire’s knee. After a moment, Grisaille slid to the floor to join them, scooting closer than they usually dared and sneaking covert glances at them that Merle gave no sign of noticing. Noire was slightly hurt by their defection, until they realized that Grisaille was quietly but steadily plowing through an entire bag of marshmallows. They shyly placed one in Merle’s lap as a peace offering. Merle glanced down, startled, and picked up the pink jumbo marshmallow. “Thank you,” they murmured. Grisaille ducked their head, and they finished the rest of the movie in silence.

Just as the movie ended, Noire’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Willow. ‘My plane just landed. Are the kids ok?’

Scowling, they texted back. 'They’re fine.'

They shoved their phone back into their pocket, slowly becoming aware that Grisaille and Merle were having a quiet conversation.

“Would you like another pudding cup, Merle?” Grisaille asked, holding out a chocolate pudding cup with a look of unmistakable hope in their eyes that made Noire want to scoop them up and give them a fierce hug. Maybe Blanche and Professor Asshole were oblivious to the longing on their face whenever they looked at their newest sibling, desperate for a closeness that they did not understand or know how to achieve, but Noire could see it.

“No, thank you. I will get a stomachache,” Merle said without even looking at them. Grisaille visibly deflated, slowly lowering the proffered pudding cup to their lap and biting their lower lip.

“I understand. I do not wish to make you ill,” Grisaille said, setting the pudding cup aside and fiddling with their fingers. They looked so dejected, but at the same time it was diluted. Grisaille had been trained out of strong feelings - or at least, they had been trained out of showing them. One had to watch closely to pick up their cues.

Merle, who was actually paying closer attention than Noire gave them credit for, huffed silently. This was so difficult. They didn’t understand the other’s clingy need. Merle had had everything they needed and had lost it so easily. There was no point in trying to forge new bonds. Cipher would just take those away too. And yet they knew how Grisaille felt so acutely that it was impossible not to sympathize. They sighed and held out their hand. “I might like another marshmallow, if you are willing to share,” they said to please their fellow clone.

They were rewarded with a small smile that was actually kind of cute if they were honest, and Grisaille carefully drew a marshmallow from the bag by their knees and placed it in Merle’s hand. “Thank you,” they said. They took a bite out of it, pretending not to notice that Noire was taking pictures of their little exchange and was likely sending them to Amelie, who they generally exclaimed over cuteness to.

Noire was actually sending the picture to Willow, who had sent another text. ‘No fights?’

‘They’re fine. See?’ They texted back with the picture of Grisaille smiling and handing Merle a marshmallow. They tossed the phone on the coffee table just as Merle stifled a yawn. “All right, time for you two to take your baths,” they said. “Who’s going first?” Grisaille and Merle both stared at them, then at each other. Neither volunteered. Of course, Noire thought, once again cursing Cipher. It had been ingrained in both of them to always concede to others. “Okay. Since Merle helped clean up after dinner, they can go first while Grisaille helps me and Spark clean up in here,” they decided. Both children nodded, relieved that the decision had been made for them.

Merle got up to get their pyjamas and toiletries out of their overnight bag in Noire’s room. They squeaked in alarm as they accidentally released Petit and the Eevee went tearing into the living room, eliciting a squeal from Grisaille. Merle grabbed their things and hid in the bathroom before the Eevee could come back, and a second later the water started. Good. The other three tidied up, twisting bags closed and securing them with clips. Spark carried it all into the kitchen and tucked it out of the way in the corners of counters.

“Okay, time for you to go,” Noire said, planting their hands on Spark’s shoulder blades and beginning to push. He dug his heels in, halting his forward progress.

“Can’t I stay?” he asked, to their horror.

“What? No!” they said, giving him another hard shove. “Go home!”

“I could sleep with you-”

They gave him a solid whap to the back of his rib cage that knocked at the air from his lungs. “You can not sleep in my bed. What the hell, Spark? Get out!” They were very conscious that Grisaille was watching this whole exchange with a concerned expression, and felt themself flush. “Out!” they repeated, louder.

Someone knocked at the door as they were pushing Spark down the hallway. They froze, and Spark’s gaze sharpened. Before they could say anything, he marched to the door and threw it open, keeping his body between them and whatever was on the other side.

He relaxed almost immediately, and Noire relaxed in response. Whoever it was, it wasn’t a threat. “Hey, Amelie,” Spark said, confirming it. “Checking that Noire hasn’t burned the house down?”

Noire scoffed and shoved him aside. “Amelie!” they said gleefully.

“Hey,” she said, giving them an almost bored look that was her exasperated expression. “I didn’t know Spark was going to be over.”

“He was just leaving,” Noire said, thumping his arm with their fist hard enough to make him wince.

“All right, all right,” he said, sighing. “I get it. I’ll go. No need to use violence. Can I come play again tomorrow?” He made baby Vulpix eyes at them, and they wisely looked away. “Can’t. We got plans,” they said, crossing their arms over their chest.

“What kind of plans?” he asked. As if they would be dumb enough to tell him. If they did, he’d just show up. He sighed at their silence and bent to lace up his shoes. “Fine, fine, I won’t bug ya. I got work I should do anyway. If I leave it too long, Go starts foaming at the mouth.”

Their mouth quirked up at the corners at the mental image that made, ruining the stern look they tried to give him. “Go home,” they repeated, pointing at the empty doorway. Amelie had ditched her heels and wandered down the hall at some point while they were talking to Spark.

“Okay. Good night, Noire,” he said. With a cheerful wave, he left. Noire locked the door behind him. Shaking their head, they went to find Amelie.

They found her perched on the couch with Merle and a hair dryer. She was tucked into the corner with Merle between her knees while she dried their hair. Merle had their eyes closed, looking more blissed out than Noire had ever seen them. They hated to ruin the moment, but- “Where’s Gris?” they asked, dropping onto the cushion next to Amelie, who shrugged.

“In the shower,” Merle said. They pointed helpfully in the direction of the only bathroom, eyes still closed while pale white strands of hair danced around their face. “I am finished, so it was their turn.”

“Did you brush your teeth?” Amelie asked, because she was the Mom Friend.

“Yes,” they said.

Noire noticed Petit perched on the back of the couch, which might have been part of the reason Merle had their eyes shut. They knew intellectually that Noire’s Eevee wasn’t going to hurt them, with the exception of some minor nibbling - she was an angry potato, after all - but they liked her better when they couldn’t see her.

Noire reached over and pulled the Eevee into their lap. They tugged on her long pointy ears while they waited for Merle’s hair to dry and for Grisaille to get out of the shower. “Who’s the fluffiest baby? It’s you!” they cooed, mushing up her face until her eyes squinted and disappeared completely behind her cheek chub. It was fucking adorable. “Little fluffy baby face.”

Because Grisaille was nothing if not efficient, they finished their shower in ten minutes. They came out of the bathroom in their pyjamas, settling on a cushion on the floor to wait for their turn with the hair dryer.

“You’re done. Up you get,” Amelie said, giving Merle’s shoulder a light pat to urge them to get up. Merle’s eyes opened reluctantly and they pushed off the couch. They stumbled slightly as if half-asleep, standing off to the side for a second while Grisaille took their place in Amelie’s lap. Once they were settled, Merle stole their cushion.

Noire released their Eevee, who trotted off into the kitchen to see if they’d left any poffins lying around. “Here, let me braid your hair,” they said, settling next to Merle.

“Okay,” Merle said agreeably. Noire smiled. It was rare for them to be so relaxed. Maybe they were finally starting to feel safe. They hoped so. They had worked so damn hard at building some security for the child, and they knew Sabrina had as well. Willow and Blanche probably deserved some credit too, but they’d be damned if they would give it to them.

Noire twisted Merle’s hair into two loose braids. The first time they’d done this, they’d put the child’s hair in a single braid on muscle memory alone, and then spent the evening sick with longing for their twin because Merle had looked so much like them, right down to the fidgety uncertainty. It didn’t seem to matter that Blanche’s hair had been several inches shorter at that age. It still hurt.

Grisaille's hair was cut in a neat bob, which dried faster than Merle’s longer locks. They also didn’t require braiding. “You go get settled in bed. I’ll get your water,” Amelie told them. Grisaille jumped up to obey right away, but Noire had to shake Merle’s shoulder slightly. They were half leaning against Noire, their cheek warm against their arm. They woke with a start and looked around in alarm.

“Hey, hey, it’s all right,” Noire said. “We’re just moving to the bed, is all. You okay?” They tugged on one of Merle’s braids, unable to help themself. The sleepy expression on their face was too cute.

“Okay,” Merle said. They clambered to their feet and meandered down the hall to the bedroom, one hand trailing down the wall.

“Boss, please don’t tell me you let them eat all this garbage!” they heard Amelie call accusingly from the kitchen.

“Spark’s the one who brought it in the house! I fed them chicken casserole like a good sibling!” they yelled back. As if they’d ever stop someone from spoiling their little siblings.

##

“Everybody set?” Amelie asked, pulling the blankets over the three bodies curled in the bed. Grisaille had insisted on sleeping next to Merle, to the other’s bafflement. They had agreed reluctantly, and now the two were lying side-by-side with about six inches of space between them.

“Yes, Amelie,” both children plus Noire (like Noire wasn’t an overgrown child) chorused in unison.

“Good. I’ll be back in the morning to check in,” she said. She smoothed hair and kissed foreheads, single eye softening with the affection that overwhelmed her. Not that it showed too much. Amelie had a poker face to be reckoned with.

“Good night, Amelie,” Grisaille piped up shyly. Only Merle’s eyes were visible from where they had burrowed under the blankets. They gave her a sleepy nod, then started suddenly.

“I forgot to plug in my night light,” they said, sitting up and starting to crawl to the end of the bed.

“I can do it. Where is it?” Amelie said, her hand dropping from the light switch.

“In my bag. Mine’s the brown backpack with spots,” they said, pointing to where the bags had been neatly lined up in front of the closet door. She bent to the polka-dotted bag. “In the front pocket,” Merle added helpfully. Their voice was strangely muffled. She glanced over her shoulder to find that Noire had stuffed them back into bed and was piling blankets on top of them. Their head was covered with a fuzzy pink blanket with a giant Eevee on it. The real Eevee was curled at Noire’s feet, though Amelie knew that she’d be sprawled across their face in a couple hours. The Eevee was as irrepressible as her trainer.

Amelie dug out the crescent moon shaped nightlight and plugged it into the outlet, flicking the switch to the “on” position. Once she was satisfied that everyone was settled, she bid them a last goodnight and turned the light off, closing the door quietly behind her.

##

The room was dark, but the nightlight gave off a reassuring glow. Merle woke up from a light doze when Grisaille gave them a single poke in the side. “I am sleeping,” they said reproachfully, since sleeping was something they did now that they had asked for a little light to chase the nightmares away.

“You speak in your sleep?” Grisaille asked in a whisper, sounding genuinely curious.

“No, of course not,” Merle retorted, tired enough to be irritable. They brushed their bangs out of their face and frowned. Noire was on their other side with their back toward them, close enough that Merle could feel their body shift with each breath. They softened their voice to keep from waking the older one. “Only Magpie does that.” As it always did, thinking about Magpie caused a stabbing pain near their heart. Merle rubbed the spot, even though they now understood that the pain wasn’t physical. Not like being whipped by a Venusaur or electrocuted by an Electrode at all. “Did you need something?” they asked, forcing politeness into their voice to chase away the bad memories.

“No,” Grisaille said. “I just wished to speak with you. We do not usually speak with each other, and I thought we should try it.”

'Now?' Merle thought, but they didn’t say the words out loud. Now was sleeping time. Noire might be cross if they woke up and found the two of them awake, chatting idly when it was past their bedtime. Noire had not yet been cross with them, but that only made them worry more about if it did happen. Instead they rolled to face Grisaille so that they could whisper more quietly and still have the other clone hear them. “What did you wish to speak about?” they asked. The light was at Grisaille’s back, so Merle could barely make out their face.

There was a brief silence. Of course they hadn’t thought that far. Merle wouldn’t have thought that far either, if it had been them. Social interactions were difficult. It had, in a way, been easier when such things hadn’t been expected of them. Of course, back then they had been expected to take repeated Vine Whips without screaming, so they thought it was worth the trade off.

“Does Magpie really say things in their sleep?” Grisaille asked, startling Merle.

“Oh, yes,” they said. They shifted uncomfortably. Magpie was their precious memory - theirs alone. They did not want to share with Grisaille. But that was unfair of them. “Sometimes they moved around as well,” they admitted, feeling guilty for their continued desire to shut the other clone out. Grisaille had been very understanding about that time Merle had hit them with a lamp, after they had put them in their place and reminded them why Grisaille had remained undefeated in Cipher’s duels.

Grisaille wiggled a little closer, interested. “Moved around? How?” they asked. The spark of curiosity had caught them, making conversation easier.

It hurt to recall. Bringing up memories of their old family always made them feel like they had been plunged headfirst in the cold ocean. They struggled in the darkness and coldness, unable to breathe as waves crashed over them, shoving them down each time they surfaced long enough to take a gasp of air. They wondered if it would ever stop hurting.

Grisaille’s hand found theirs under the blankets and squeezed. “Is it difficult to speak about it?” they whispered.

“Yes,” Merle admitted. They wanted to pull their hand away, even as they wanted to snuggle closer to the warmth. It was a conundrum. They decided to take neither course of action.

“Is it because they were cruel to you? Like Cipher?” they asked.

“No!” Merle blurted, so loudly and fiercely that both Noire and Grisaille jumped. Noire rolled over, sliding an arm around them.

“Shh,” they crooned, smoothing Merle’s bangs with one hand while their other arm settled protectively around their waist. “It’s okay. I gotcha.” Both children waited for Noire to resettle.

Once Noire’s breathing had evened out again, Grisaille whispered, “I apologize. I did not mean to upset you.” Their hand was still in Merle’s, and Merle didn’t have it in them to be upset. It was, after all, a legitimate question.

“It is all right,” they said. Noire’s breathing hadn’t quite returned to its earlier rhythm, and they suspected that their older sibling wasn’t actually sleeping, but they supposed they didn’t mind if Noire wanted to listen. “Magpie was not cruel to me,” they said. They had to pause to swallow the lump in their throat. The water was on the bedside table next to Grisaille, and Merle didn’t want to trouble them to pass them a glass. “They were my family. They were very kind. But they are gone now. I cannot see them again. That is painful.” Excruciatingly painful. Worse than anything else Cipher had ever done to them. No other pain compared to losing Magpie and the others.

Grisaille’s thumb rubbed soothingly along the back of their hand. “I see,” they said. They didn’t seem to know what else to say, and fell silent. Merle went quiet too. They were still tired, but now Grisaille had dragged up all their old memories and their mind was buzzing too much for them to relax.

“If you do not mind answering more questions,” Grisaille said, leaving a long enough pause for them to voice their objection if they had one. They remained silent, so Grisaille continued, “Was Magpie your... parent?” they asked.

“No, not really. My older sibling. Much older,” they added, since they had learned that it was more common for siblings to be only a few years apart. “But a little like a parent, I suppose.”

“Like Blanche and Noire?”

“Exactly like,” Merle agreed. They reached out and patted Grisaille’s cheek. “I will explain them better someday. But it is too painful right now.”

“I understand. Goodnight, Merle,” Grisaille whispered. Both children adjusted their positions for sleep. They fell asleep still holding hands, though they let go of each other sometime before morning.

Chapter Text

The siblings woke in a sleepy pile. Grisaille woke first, and woke Merle as they squirmed out of the bed to pad to the bathroom. Merle didn’t move, caught in the haze of early morning before their brain was fully awake. Noire’s body was a warm, comfortable presence at their back. Merle knew it was time to get up and start the day, but they couldn’t bring themself to move. They felt warm and safe here, curled up with Noire. They didn’t want to go out in the cold.

Noire shifted against their back, murmuring sleepily. Their hands fumbled against Merle’s shoulders, patting to confirm that they were still there. They reached around Merle for Grisaille and jolted to awareness when their hands met empty air.

“Where’s Gris?” they demanded, sitting up and scouring the room with their eyes.

“Bathroom,” Merle replied, sitting up with reluctance. If Noire was up, that meant they had to be up as well. They slid out from under the covers and padded to their backpack. Their head felt heavy and groggy. They shook their body to clear it, annoyed. They had to be alert. One never knew when something could happen. They had to be able to react, and they could not do that with their brain full of cobwebs.

They crouched to unzip their bag, rooting around inside. “Noire, will we be outside today?” they asked in a neutral voice. They didn’t want to reveal how much they hoped the answer would be yes. They had been spending a lot more time inside now that Sabrina had returned to work. Which was fine, really, but not what they would have preferred.

“Ah, yeah,” Noire said, pausing from where they were digging in their own closet. “We’re going berry picking, and it’s supposed to be windy.”

Merle nodded and selected jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Noire watched them as they set the folded clothes on their lap and dug out their bag of toiletries, waiting for Grisaille to return so that they could have their turn in the bathroom. A thrum of excitement went through Noire, anchored by an undercurrent of nerves. Blanche had agreed to spend the day with them. Noire knew it was for the kids’ sake and not theirs, but they were still thrilled at the prospect. Now that the twins hated each other, Noire got to see their sibling hardly ever, and sensed that was how Blanche preferred it. Noire knew that the current situation had been their own choice, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

Grisaille returned, and Merle darted past them through the doorway without so much as a greeting. If Grisaille was put out by this lack of courtesy, it didn’t show. They dug through their own bag, careful not to so much as brush against Merle’s. Either they had caught a glimpse of what Merle was going to be wearing when they passed them or they had overheard Noire say what they would be doing that day, because they pulled out jeans and a long-sleeved shirt as well and started to pull them on.

Once everyone was dressed, Noire ushered the kids out into the kitchen. They had just pulled out a bag of pancake mix when there was a loud rap at the door. Merle paused in the process of getting the measuring cups for Noire. “Do we have to hide in the living room again?” they asked.

“It’s probably just Amelie. She said she’d check in this morning,” Noire said, brushing past them and striding down the hallway. It was. She smiled at them, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Amelie!” they said, flinging their arms out for a hug. “You’re in time for pancakes!”

“I don’t smell pancakes,” she said, prying their arms from around her neck.

“That’s because I haven’t made them yet.”

“...” Amelie gave them a baleful stare, understanding that this meant that she would be the one making the pancakes. They levelled their best gooey-eyed Eevee impression at her, and she sighed. “Fine, fine, but let go.”

They obeyed and followed her down to the kitchen. “Good morning, Amelie,” Merle said. They were dumping pancake mix into the bottom of a bowl. They were not measuring it. Amelie quickly put a stop to this.

“Good morning. Here, let me do that.” She plucked the bowl out of their hands and got another bowl, measuring pancake mix from the disaster Merle had almost created into the new bowl.

“Good morning, Amelie,” Grisaille said, returning to the kitchen from who-knows-where.

“Hey, kiddo. Mind checking the freezer to see if Noire’s got any frozen fruit?”

“Um, there’s blueberries,” Grisaille said after sticking their head in the freezer.

“Those’ll do. Bring them here.”

Soon Amelie had blueberry sauce bubbling in a saucepan on the stove and the first pancakes cooking in the pan. Grisaille set the table without needing to be asked and Merle vanished from the kitchen to the less-populated living room. There was a yowl and a frightened yelp as Merle made the mistake of trying to sit on a cushion that Petit was sleeping under.

“Désolé!” they yelped, and fled back into the kitchen.

Noire patted their head when they came to hide behind them, glancing anxiously in the direction of the living room in case the irate Eevee decided to chase them down.

“Here,” Amelie said, distracting Merle by setting a plate of pancakes with blueberry sauce down in front of them.

Once everyone was full of pancakes and Amelie had called Sabrina to assure her that everyone had survived the night (Noire had 10 texts from Professor Willow that they were ignoring), she left, announcing that she had a date and did not want to be roped into berry picking.

“All right, you two. We have to go pick up Blanche in a few minutes, so go wash your hands and faces and I’ll get the kitchen cleaned up,” Noire said. They wished Amelie had done this task before her departure, and her refusal was probably the reason she’d smirked at them before she closed the door behind her.

##

Noire “borrowed” an unmarked car from Team Rocket HQ's parking lot and pulled up outside Blanche’s condo building. They idled the car as they waited for their twin to appear. Blanche wasn’t keen on berry picking, Noire knew, but they hadn’t had a lot of options. They had fought for days over what to do while Noire had the kids. Sure, there were loads of activities in the city that Grisaille and Merle would have enjoyed. The problem was the most of them were open to pokemon, or used pokemon as part of the appeal. Which was not ideal for traumatized kids rescued from labs.

Blanche came out the doors and Noire sat up straighter in their seat. They had to keep this pleasant, for the sake of the kids. They were thrilled that they would be spending the day with Blanche, but Blanche’s face was colder than an iceberg in the Arctic, so they were guessing their twin didn’t feel the same.

Blanche climbed into the passenger seat and crossed their arms over their chest. “Hello, Blanche,” Grisaille said shyly, which earned them a smile. Merle stared out the window with glazed eyes.

Neither twin spoke to the other as Noire pulled away from the curb and drove out of the city. A tense silence descended as they rolled out into green fields dotted with trees and farmhouses that bordered Instinct’s territory. Noire turned off onto a long dirt track at the berry farm.

Luckily it wasn’t busy at this time of day. There were only a couple other cars in the parking lot. The siblings piled out. Noire went to go pay and grab the baskets and left Blanche to explain the rules.

“Stay within the boundaries,” Blanche said, pointing to the low wooden fence that sectioned off the rows of berry plants. “Try to make sure more fruit ends up in your basket than in your mouth.” They paused. They had never gone berry picking before, so they weren’t sure what other rules they should cover, if any. “I suppose that’s everything,” they finished as Noire returned and passed baskets to Merle and Grisaille. They bumped one against Blanche’s arm to get their attention. Blanche took it without looking at them.

There was an awkward stretch of silence as they all waited for someone else to take the lead. Predictably, it was Noire who rose to the task. “C’mon, follow me,” they said. “I’ll show you how.”

They trooped after Noire to a far corner of the field, far away from the other early berry pickers. Noire knelt on the dirt divide between berry plants, making Blanche wrinkle their nose. The ground was so dirty. Noire reached out to the nearest bush and drew a berry toward them. “See, you hold it like this,” they said, gripping the stem just above the berry, “and then you twist like this, to break it off.” The branch broke with a snap, and Noire dropped the berry into their basket. “Easy,” they said. “Now, go fill your baskets up. If we get enough, we can make pie or cobbler or something.”

Merle and Grisaille nodded and broke off, going in opposite directions. Blanche looked between them uncertainly, then followed the child they were most familiar with and hoped it wouldn’t be interpreted as a sign of favouritism. They crouched next to Grisaille, unwilling to kneel on the ground and get their clothes dirty as Grisaille was. The child had tied their windbreaker around their waist, apparently too warm to wear it. They were frowning thoughtfully at the plants, but they did not reach out to pick any, so Blanche didn’t either.

After several moments of complete stillness, Blanche couldn’t handle the silence any longer. “Is there a problem?” they asked.

Apparently Grisaille had been waiting to be prompted, because they turned to Blanche immediately. “Permission to ask a question?” they asked. They looked faintly embarrassed, though Blanche couldn’t imagine why.

“Of course.”

“Will it hurt them?”

Blanche stared at their sibling, uncomprehending. “...Hurt what?”

“The plants,” Grisaille said. They looked even more embarrassed now, their head and shoulders dipping forward as they hunched in on themself. “Will it hurt them if I pick the berries?” they finished in a whisper.

Where could they have gotten an idea like that? “Why do you ask?” Blanche asked, unwilling to answer the question until they knew what had prompted it.

Since Blanche did not appear mad, Grisaille uncurled a little, though their expression still held some apprehension when they looked up at Blanche. They clasped their hands over their thighs and drew breath to speak. “In my biology lessons,” they began, “my textbook says that plants are alive. They live, they produce offspring, they die. If that is they case, then do they not feel pain? All living things feel pain.” They unclasped their hands and turned them palm-upward, examining the lines of their palms and the numerous scars that adorned their fingers. Pain was as familiar to them as an old sweater. They did not enjoy inflicting it.

It took a moment for Blanche to formulate a response. They did not want to crassly dismiss their sibling’s concerns, but they did want to be clear.

“No,” they said. “Plants do not feel pain. They do not have nervous systems like you or I or pokemon do. They nervous system what carries pain signals to the brain, which plants also do not have. It does not hurt them to be picked. In fact, many plant species find it beneficial to have their fruit eaten. It helps them spread their seeds over a wider area. Other plants, such as roses, need to be pruned back every now and then to ensure their new growth can come in healthy.” Blanche paused, suddenly aware that they may have said more than necessary and bored their audience. But when they glanced down, Grisaille was watching them with rapt attention.

“I see,” they said, turning back to the plants. They looked relieved. “Thank you for your kind explanation.”

Grisaille was, as it turned out, a berry picking machine. They worked their way methodically down the row, brown fingers flashing like lightning as they plucked berries from their stems and dropped them into their rapidly-filling basket. Blanche didn’t have a hope of keeping up. Once Grisaille had filled up their own basket, they assisted Blanche in filling theirs. Blanche let them do it. They didn’t really enjoy berry picking - the hot sun that made them sticky and sweaty, the brisk wind that blew strands of hair into their face to stick to their damp skin, the berry juice that stained their fingers, the dirt, or the bugs. They were grateful for the help.

Once both baskets were full, Blanche finally thought to look around for Merle and Noire. They frowned when they spotted them. Noire was trailing after Merle as they wandered between the rows of plants some distance away. Merle had their basket wrapped in both arms like a child holding a pokedoll, but Noire’s dangled from one hand, empty. As Blanche watched, Merle dropped into a crouch in front of a bush, plucked two berries, stood up and meandered along.

For a moment, Blanche forgot that this was supposed to be a fun activity and not a task that had to be completed where two members of the group weren’t pulling their own weight. They strode up to their siblings, Grisaille scurrying after them. “What are you doing?” they demanded, bracing their heavy basket on their hip as they scowled at Noire.

Noire glanced over their shoulder at them, frowning at their expression, then back at Merle. “Picking berries,” they said. Their tone made it obvious that their mind was a million miles away and that more of their attention was on Merle than on Blanche. And that made Blanche angry.

“Is that so? Because it doesn’t look like you’re doing much of anything,” Blanche snapped.

Noire’s eyes drifted to Merle again, who had turned and wandered back when they realized Noire was no longer following them, and who was clearly Noire’s main concern. They shrugged. “It’s supposed to be fun, Blanche,” they said. “It doesn’t matter how fast we finish, or how many berries we get.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Blanche demanded. “I don’t want to stay here all day, wasting time that could be better served elsewhere, just because you and Merle can’t complete a simple task!” They were dimly aware of Grisaille sidling around them and Noire to approach Merle.

“’Wasting time’?” Noire echoed, eyes flashing as their own temper flared. “Nobody forced you to come, Blanche. You said you wanted to come. If you’ve got better things to do, then go do them instead.”

“I did want to come, but I don’t want to stay here forever, even if you and Merle are content to dawdle all day.” They crossed their arms over their chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this hot today. Normally Blanche craved warmth. Their bond with Articuno sapped their own body heat and left them permanently chilled. But what they liked was snuggling up to someone else’s body heat or a mug of hot cocoa and a blanket cocoon. They did not like the smothering, stifling heat of the summer sun, and they wanted to be out of it and into a temperature-controlled room as soon as could be arranged.

“If you want to leave, then go!” Noire snapped back. “Me’n Merle were waiting for you to finish anyway, since you seemed into it and Merle wasn’t. If you’re ready, we can go!”

“You haven’t even filled your baskets yet!”

“That’s not the point Blanche!”

Merle appeared at Noire’s side, looking uneasy. At some point Grisaille had set their basket down and claimed Merle’s. Blanche could see them over Merle’s shoulder, briskly filling the basket in the background.

Somehow, this made them angrier.

“Please don’t fight,” Merle was saying in a small voice. Blanche’s attention snapped back to them. They were lightly gripping Noire’s sleeve with their right hand, and were reaching out cautiously with the other with the intention of placing it on Blanche’s arm. “Please? There’s nothing to fight about. I don’t want-”

Blanche knocked their hand away. “I don’t care what you want,” they snarled. Merle jumped back. “Mind your own business!”

Noire surged forward and grabbed their collar. “What the hell? That was uncalled for!”

But Blanche wasn’t listening to them. They froze, eyes locked on Merle’s face as their younger sibling took an involuntary step back. Their eyes were glassy and unfocused, their face strangely blank. They withdrew the hand Blanche had slapped, gathering it to their chest. It was their broken arm, Blanche realized with belated horror. They had hurt Merle.

The thought had barely formed in their mind when Merle let out a distraught wail and flung themself over the row of berry bushes.

Noire whirled. “Merle!” they yelled, and leaped over the bushes after them.

After a frozen second, Blanche dropped their basket and followed.

Their progress was hampered by row after row of berry bushes. Merle leaped over each neat line, barely slowing down as they overcame the obstacles. They were still making that horrible keening wail. Noire was closer to them than Blanche was, but Merle was faster than Blanche had ever imagined possible. Noire was leaping over the last row of plants when Merle vaulted over the dividing fence, sprinted across a section of open ground and vanished through the line of trees that marked the end of the berry farm.

Noire slammed across the open space with the speed of the desperate and vanished into the tree line. The sound of them crashing through the underbrush was the only thing left to mark their presence.

Blanche jumped the remaining rows of bushes with a sinking heart. They would never catch up. They raised their hands to break the impact as they slammed to a halt against the fence. The wood shuddered under their hands and the force carried up their arms and into their shoulders, rendering the muscles briefly numb before they flared with intense pain. The momentum nearly carried them head first over the low fence, but they didn’t care. They scanned the trees, knowing that even if they ran with all their speed, their siblings had too much of a head start for Blanche to find them.

They weren’t sure how long they stood there waiting before they heard the crash of something moving toward them through the underbrush. Moments later, Noire appeared. Blanche took one look at their ashen face and their heart plummeted past their stomach.

“I lost them,” Noire whispered.

##

“I can’t believe this,” Blanche said. They slumped agianst the fence, head in their hands as the full weight of the situation hit them.

Noire was standing a few feet away on the other side of the fence, looking dazed. “The underbrush was too thick,” they were saying, though they seemed to be speaking more to themself than to Blanche. “I was too far behind. I lost sight of them...” Their voice trailed off and they swallowed hard.

“How?” Blanche said, voice hollow. They swallowed the sudden thickness in their own throat. Their voice stronger, they asked, “You should have been faster than them. They are a child. They should not have been so hard to catch.”

Noire’s lips drew back from their teeth in a snarl. “Oh, so this is my fault now?” they spat, stalking forward and closing the distance between them. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t lost your shit over something stupid-”

“Something stupid?” Blanche demanded.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you have to take everything fun and ruin it?”

“You should have been able to catch them!”

“You’re the reason they ran in the first place!”

“It’s not my fault that-”

“You hit them!”

The tension was split by Noire’s ringtone. Blanche would have ignored it except that Noire’s face, flushed with rage, went pale at the sound of the Bill Nye theme song.

“Shit,” they gasped, fishing out their phone and staring with open-mouthed horror at their call display. Blanche caught sight of the name, and their blood went cold.

Professor Willow.

They both stared as it continued to ring. Blanched licked their suddenly dry lips. “Are- are you going to answer that?” they asked, voice wavering.

Noire looked up, their expression set. “No.”

Blanche goggled at them. “No? You cannot just ignore him!” Their voice was rising in pitch. Recognizing the beginnings of hysteria, they forced themself to take several deep breaths.

“Watch me.” The phone had stopped ringing. Noire shoved it back in their pocket.

“Noire,” Blanche said, putting all the horror they felt into uttering their twin’s name.

“I’ve been ignoring him since yesterday. He won’t think it’s weird.”

Blanche doubted this, but said nothing. Noire swung around, and they both stared at the trees in miserable silence. Merle did not reappear, and after a moment Noire rubbed their hands over their face.

“We’d better check on Grisaille,” they said, voice muffled. “The last thing we need is to lose both of them.”

Grisaille had flown completely from Blanche’s mind. At the mention of their name, the guilt sank in.

Noire braced their hands on the fence and swung their legs over, striding past Blanche without looking in their direction.

“Merle...” Blanche protested weakly, trailing after Noire.

“We can’t catch up with them right now,” Noire said. “There’s nothing we can do about that. So we’ll check on Grisaille, and then we’ll come up with a plan for finding Merle.”

They found Grisaille roughly where they had left them. They had righted Blanche’s basket and replaced the spilled fruit. They had also filled Merle’s basket with fruit in the time their siblings had been gone, and were starting on Noire’s. They paused and glanced up when they heard Blanche and Noire approaching.

“I am almost finished filling the baskets,” Grisaille announced, glancing between Blanche and Noire. “That is what Blanche wanted, yes? They will not be angry now?” Their face was a beacon of anxiety.

Blanche felt like they’d been stabbed, but before they could reply, Grisaille looked around and frowned, realizing that Merle was not with them. “Merle?” they asked, returning their gaze to Blanche.

“They ran into the woods before we could catch them,” Noire said, because Blanche’s mouth was too dry to speak.

Grisaille’s fists clenched in their jeans and they whipped their head around to stare at the line of trees in the distance. “But,” they said, their face creasing in worry, “they do not know the area. And will there not be pokemon in there? They will be frightened.” They bit their lip, still staring at the trees.

Noire crouched next to them, resting their arms on their thighs. “Yeah, they will be,” they agreed, each word firing into Blanche’s chest like a bullet. “So we’re gonna have to find them before they run into any trouble, ‘kay?” They waited for Grisaille’s nod before they stood again. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” they said, bracing their hands on their hips as they surveyed their siblings. “Blanche, you take Grisaille in the car and drive around the roads around here. If they strike out for home, they might try walking along one of the roads. If so, you should be able to catch them.”

“And you?” Grisaille asked. “What will you do?”

“I’ll see if I can track them through the forest. They’ll have to stop running eventually. Maybe I’ll be able to catch up.”

“I should do that,” Blanche said, frowning. It was their fault Merle had run away. They should be the one who had to trek through the forest to find them.

Noire barely spared them a glance. “I’m the better tracker,” they said, voice cool. “My pokemon are better suited to a forest landscape. And,” they continued, sensing Blanche’s intention to argue further, “I didn’t smack them, so they’re less likely to run from me.”

Blanche couldn’t argue with that. Even Grisaille seemed to agree. “We will search for them together,” they assured Blanche, placing a gentle hand on their arm the way Merle had attempted to when this whole mess started. “We shall not fail to find them.”

Blanche stared into their earnest little face, and nodded. “We will do our best,” they said. “Meet back here in two hours?” they asked Noire, who nodded briskly.

“Fine,” they said.

“Will we be leaving the fruit behind?” Grisaille asked, catching Blanche’s sleeve and pointing to the four baskets.

Blanche wanted to snap at them, because who cared about the stupid fruit? But then they realized, from the way that Grisaille was looking at them, that the child thought they did. After all, hadn’t that been what the fight was about in the first place?

More to please Grisaille than for any other reason, Blanche nodded. “We will have to make a couple trips to get it all in the car,” they said. Noire had already jogged away. Neither of the remaining siblings paused to watch them leap over the fence, merely stooped and picked up a heavy basket each. They lugged the baskets out to the car and piled them in the back seat before returning for the others.

Once all the fruit was piled in the back, Grisaille climbed into the front passenger seat and Blanche pulled slowly out of the parking lot. “You keep your eyes on your side of the road, and I’ll watch mine,” Blanche said. “Let me know if you see anything. They may stay just inside the trees to keep from being spotted.”

“Yes, Blanche,” they agreed.

##

Two hours later, Blanche and Grisaille had seen no sign of Merle. It was with a heavy heart that Blanche turned the car back toward the berry farm. They were going to be late to their rendezvous with Noire, but they had wanted to continue looking until the last possible moment.

Hopefully Noire had had more luck.

But when they pulled into the parking lot and found Noire, the eldest sibling was very much alone.

“No luck?” Noire called as Blanche and Grisaille trudged toward them. They were seated cross-legged on the ground. Their bare arms were scratched up from pushing through branches and thorn bushes in search of their sibling. It was the sight of those scratches that made Blanche bite back a sharp retort.

“No,” they admitted, and dropped to the ground beside them, completely forgetting how bothered they’d been by the dirt earlier.

A pause. “Crap,” Noire said dully, and flopped onto their back, covering their eyes with their arms. “I’m gonna have to call Sabrina and arrange a search party. She'll kill me,” they said. Blanche didn’t disagree. “And when Sabrina is done killing me and Professor Willow comes back, he’ll kill me a second time.” Yes, this was the likely scenario. They were both doomed. “And that’s if Spark and that bitch don’t get to me first.” It hadn’t even occurred to Blanche to be worried about Spark and Candela’s reactions, but now they were. Extremely.

Grisaille laid a hand on Noire’s shoulder. “I will protect you,” they said earnestly.

Noire cracked a smile, the upper half of their face still covered. “Thanks, Gris.”

The earth rumbled underneath them and a jeep veered into the parking lot, spraying dirt and gravel over the siblings. The jeep was khaki green, but Blanche’s eyes narrowed in on the crest on the side. A yellow triangle with Zapdos’ silhouette.

Team Instinct members.

Well, this was very close to their territory. Perhaps Spark had sent them out to obtain berries for Instinct? Spark was passionate about supporting local businesses and farmers. It was the sort of thing he would do.

A boy, no more than nineteen, with long dreads jumped from the front seat of the jeep. A girl with her black hair cut in a sharp pixie cut hopped out of the passenger’s side while the boy went around the jeep and walked past her to open the back door.

And Merle hopped out.

Blanche was on their feet in an instant, a strangled sound tearing from their throat. Noire’s whole body jerked at the sound and they rolled to their feet, expecting an enemy. They froze when they spotted Merle smiling tentatively up at the dark-skinned Instinct trainer.

“Thank you for bringing me back,” they were telling him. “I will be sure to tell Spark that you were a huge help, and that you were kind to me.”

A girl with red pigtails had slid out of the jeep after Merle. Now she ruffled their hair. “Aw, thanks sweetie. You weren’t any trouble or anything. Ah, is this your big sibling?” she added as Noire tore across the parking lot and tackled Merle into a hug. Merle let out an alarmed yip, but otherwise did not move.

“Yes,” they answered her question when they had managed to pry Noire’s arms loose enough for them to speak. “This is Noire.”

Instantly, the three Instinct trainers looked apprehensive. One of them muttered “Team Rocket” under their breath, but Noire paid them no mind.

Blanche’s body moved forward of its own volition. Now that their sibling was safe in front of them, all their worry and fear and guilt melted away to be replaced with icy rage.

“Where the hell were you?” they said. Their voice shook with the force of their fury.

Merle cringed and peeked up at them over Noire’s shoulder. “Hello, Blanche,” they said meekly. They tried to shrink behind Noire at the look on Blanche’s face. “I tried to come back, but I got lost. Haylee, Lilac, and Everest brought me back. They have been very kind.” They gestured to the Instinct trainers, who had moved to flank them when they saw Blanche approaching. The boy, who had to be Everest, even put out an arm as if to shield Merle from them.

“Hey,” he said. He smiled nervously, but did not move from between Blanche and Merle. “The kid wandered onto Instinct turf, and they looked just like you, Leader Blanche, so we knew we should help ‘em out. They were pretty shook up, but they remembered the name of this farm, so we brought them back as fast as possible. They didn’t mean any harm. Don’t be mad at them, they’re just a little guy.” He stopped chattering at an icy glare from Blanche.

“This doesn’t concern you,” they said. “I need to speak with Merle.”

“You can talk to them fine from there,” he said with admirable courage, though his extended arm was starting to tremble.

“Move aside now, before I turn you into a pincushion.” Blanche’s breath was beginning to form fog in the air as Articuno’s presence came closer to the surface. All three Instinct trainers flinched back and glanced at one another uneasily. The redhead moved closer to Noire, deciding that Blanche was the more frightening one for the time being.

Noire stood up and smiled at the Instinct trainers. “Thanks a bunch, you guys,” they said as though there was no tension in the air. “You saved my butt, seriously. I’ll tell Spark you all deserve raises, though I can’t promise he’ll deliver. But you should really clear out now before Blanche has a temper tantrum.”

The Instinct trainers hesitated, glanced at Blanche, and then nodded. They each patted Merle’s head or shoulders and mumbled a goodbye. Then they scrambled into their jeep and sped off, going far over the posted speed limit.

After the cloud of dust from the jeep had faded into the distance, Noire gave Merle’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re not hurt?” they asked.

Merle shook their head, staring at their shoes.

“Great. I’m so glad you’re not hurt. You scared the shit outta me, you know.” They paused for a moment to allow Merle time to reply. When they did not, Noire continued. “You and Grisaille get in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Without responding, Merle darted away, flinging open the back door of the car and diving in before Noire could change their mind. Grisaille followed at a more sedate pace. Blanche took a step in that direction, but Noire grabbed their arm hard. “Let go,” Blanche said, glaring at them.

“You owe Merle an apology,” Noire said.

Blanche bristled. “They’re the one who ran away and caused trouble! That’s-”

“They're a kid and you’re not. Your behaviour was worse than theirs,” Noire said. “And if you snap at them one more time today, I’m never inviting you along again.” With that, they turned and marched to the van.

Blanche stood alone for another moment before following.

The drive back was worse than the drive to the farm had been. The tension between Blanche and Noire could have been cut with a knife. Grisaille squirmed uncomfortably in the back seat. Merle fell asleep, head lolling against the window. Every couple of minutes they would jerk awake and look around in alarm, but would soon nod off again.

Once they had dropped Blanche off at their condo, everyone breathed a little easier. Noire twisted around to look at their passengers. Merle was currently awake and blinking at them sleepily. “We missed lunch. What do you guys want to eat?” Noire asked.

Both children looked at each other, each waiting for the other to speak up. “Grisaille can pick,” Merle said finally, leaning their cheek against the window again. “I am not very hungry.”

Grisaille stared at Merle in alarm and betrayal. Having opinions was still difficult for them, especially on days like this when people were angry and their instinct was to let the others have their way to smooth things over. “...Cheeseburgers?” they suggested, staring at Noire with wide eyes.

Noire nodded. “Sounds delicious,” they said. They would have said it even if Grisaille had said that they wanted crickets for lunch. “I think we should get it to go, though. Merle needs a nap.”

Chapter Text

Merle was too hot.

Too hot, and they couldn’t focus. They stared at the plants, seeing nothing more than a haze of green in front of eyes that they couldn’t force into focus.

It was a simple task, they chastised themself. They had paid attention during Noire’s demonstration, which had been mercifully short. They could fill a basket with berries. They could please Blanche and Noire.

But they were just so hot.

They swiped a hand over their forehead and glanced back at Noire, who was following closely behind them. Blanche and Grisaille were somewhere in the berry patch as well, but Merle didn’t look around for them. They trudged forward a couple steps and dropped to kneel on the dirt. It was warm and moist under their knees, while they would have expected it to be dry and cracked on a day like today.

Maybe the farmers had watered that morning, and the sun hadn’t fully dried the earth yet.

Maybe it was morning dew, and it wasn’t late enough in the morning for it to evaporate yet.

Maybe the heat wasn’t coming from outside them, but from within. That would make sense. There was a headache pounding behind their temples, building behind their eyes. Their throat felt scratchy, and their skin was covered with a light sheen of sweat that chilled them despite the heat.

“Are you all right, Merle?”

It was Noire. Noire, next to them. Noire, looking at them with concern.

“Of course,” Merle managed to say. They had a task to complete. They could not show weakness. They gritted their teeth, focusing on nothing but enduring their discomfort. How long had they been sitting here? No good. That would get them whipped if they were at Cipher. By a Venusaur, maybe. One like Noire’s. Though Merle had never seen Noire’s Venusaur, they knew their sibling had one.

They forced their hands out. One berry. Two berries. Three berries. They lost count, simply focusing on the movement of their hands. Noire was still next to them, picking as well, but they were still watching Merle. They must not be hiding it well, they thought.

“Are you sure you’re all right, mon petit chouchou?” Noire asked again. They shifted closer, reaching out a hand to press it against Merle’s forehead, but Merle stood up before they could make contact.

“I’m fine!” they insisted. They clutched their basket to their chest, afraid they would drop it if they loosened their hold, and marched away from Noire.

They knew their sibling was not fooled. They knew who they were cloned from.

Merle had gone ten paces before they remembered that they were supposed to be picking berries, and this would not accomplish that. They dropped to a crouch, startling Noire, who nearly trod on them. Noire crouched next to them again, picking berries, but watching them. Always watching.

This pattern repeated several more times, with Merle moving on each time they could no longer bear the weight of Noire’s eyes on them.

“What are you doing?” a harsh voice demanded from behind them. Merle flinched hard and nearly dropped their basket. They whirled around, blinking in hazy confusion. It was Blanche. Blanche was angry.

Angry at them? Angry at Noire?

Why?

Noire was not concerned about Blanche’s anger. Merle wished they could be so nonchalant. Inside they trembled, though their hands were steady on their basket. They wanted to retreat from Blanche’s anger. Anger meant punishment. Anger meant pain. Blanche was right to be angry. Merle was performing poorly at their task. Blanche and Grisaille’s baskets were full, and their own hadn’t been filled to the halfway point.

They deserved the wash of shame that flooded over them.

Now Noire was angry, too. The two eldest siblings were shouting at each other. Merle was the cause, so they should stop it. They should apologize, and take whatever punishment was given.

Now their hands really did tremble. Merle forced them still. This was not Cipher, they told themself sternly. No one here had hurt them yet.

Grisaille slid unnoticed around the other two and came to a halt in front of Merle. Merle jolted at the sight of them. They had forgotten them, somehow. That was no good. Grisaille was stronger than them. Merle had to be alert, had to be careful, because Grisaille could-

Grisaille gently took the basket from their hands with a covert glance over their shoulder. They moved a couple steps away as Merle watched them in confusion. Then Grisaille crouched down and began to fill the basket as quickly as possible.

Grisaille was trying to get Merle out of trouble.

Merle stared at them, open-mouthed. In their entire life, none of their same-faced subjects had ever attempted to defend them. It would have been crazy to do so. They were competitors. At any moment they could be shoved in the arena together with the knowledge that only one would be permitted to leave. All of them knew that. The only ones foolish enough to bond with each other despite that were the other Rouge and the Bleu. Merle had never been pitted against Grisaille, as evidenced by their continued survival, but they could have been. They could still be, if Cipher ever got their greedy hands on the two of them again. Merle shuddered at the thought.

“If you want to leave, then go!” Noire yelled, drawing Merle’s attention back to the fight that was occurring behind them. Merle turned slowly, biting their lip. They would put a stop to this if they could.

They crept up next to Noire, plucking at their sleeve. “Please don’t fight,” they said. They reached their other hand out to Blanche. “Please? There’s nothing to fight about. I don’t want-”

“I don’t care what you want,” Blanche snarled, smacking their hand away. Merle leaped backward as pain shot up their arm. They gripped the cast as though the press of their fingers would soothe the wound through the hard fiberglass, staring at Blanche.

Blanche was still shouting at them, but Merle could no longer hear the words. It wasn’t the pain. The pain wasn’t that bad. They had felt worse. They stumbled another step back. Blanche’s face was twisted with fury, like they hated Merle. Nobody had ever looked at Merle like that. Cipher was cruel, but it was also cold. Cipher could not be moved to hatred. And Merle’s family had loved them. No matter what they had done, Magpie had not looked at them like that.

To their shame, they felt tears gather in their eyes and spill over, leaving hot trails down their face.

They turned and ran. They didn’t know they were screaming as they went. There were obstacles in front of them. They jumped over them with ease, like they always had during Cipher’s obstacle courses.

Bush. Bush. Bush. Bush. Fence. And then they were on open ground. Their feet slapped against the earth as they sprinted across it. There were trees up ahead, and Merle crashed between them, branches tearing at their face and arms. The world was instantly darker, cooler, and they ran on, their heart thundering in their chest as they crashed through ferns and leaped over roots and felled logs. They could hear Noire calling after them, begging them to come back, but they didn’t stop running and their sibling’s voice faded into the distance.

Eventually they slowed, their lungs burning. There was a path ahead, a dirt track that wound through the trees. Merle hesitated - it didn’t look like a path that humans made, and they were wary of following it in case there was a pokemon at the end. They were only a Rouge, a single step up from being a Claire, a failure. Their powers were so small. But they weren’t willing to turn back, so they followed the path.

A root grew through the path, and Merle stumbled over it, falling to their knees and jarring their broken arm again. Tears pricked their eyes, just when they had finally calmed down. They pulled themself off the path and curled up at the base of a tree, arms wrapped around themself, crying.

When they were finished crying, they blinked around them. Maybe it was the fog that coiled around their brain, but they couldn’t remember which way they had come from. That was ridiculous - hadn’t they survived the maze trials at Cipher? They knew how to orient themself. But their head felt heavy and unbalanced, like it wasn’t properly attached to their neck, and they couldn’t make it think.

They pushed to their feet. They swayed and had to put their hand on the trunk of the tree to steady themself. They looked both ways, then decided to go to the right. They had a 50% chance of getting it right, after all, and chance was all they had to go on.

There was no way for them to know if they were going in the right direction. Merle was inexperienced in the woods and the outdoors in general. They did not now how to tell directions from the angle of the sun or the pattern of the stars. They did not know whether the trees they walked under were oak, spruce, pine, or some variety whose name they didn’t know. They did, however, recognize the beedrill when they flew overheard. They jerked backward, throat closing up as they fought the urge to scream. They looked away, watching the pokemon out of the corner of their eye. Maybe if they didn’t look directly at the creatures, they wouldn’t turn aggressive. They wouldn’t attack.

The beedrill flew peaceably across the path and disappeared into the trees on the other side. Merle held perfectly still as they waited for the buzzing to fade away. All was quiet, and they sucked in a deep breath, lungs aching from holding it that long.

Another voice up ahead made them pause, holding their breath again in order to listen. Voices, and not far away. They weren’t sure what to do. Should they approach? Should they turn back? How could they know if the voices would belong to friends? There was no one here to tell them what they should do. No one here to tell them who was safe.

They hovered in indecision, shifting their weight from foot to foot as they moved to take a step forward and then back again, unable to make up their mind. But they had to go forward. They didn’t know how to get back on their own.

They crept forward on the balls of their feet, taking slow, silent breaths the way they had seen Mapgie do when they wanted to move without detection. The path ended ahead of them and Merle came to a halt, biting their lip. The voices were closer now, just on the other side of a wall of brambles. Merle did not know how to move quietly through foliage, and they certainly didn’t know how to move quietly while being stabbed with hundreds of sharp thorns.

They looked to the side, trying to determine whether the plants that way would be easier to move through. The brambles in front of them exploded outward and Merle leaped backward with a gasp. They lost their footing and tumbled end over end, landing in a pile of ferns. A Nidorina loomed over them, eyeing them with a bright, curious look, and Merle screamed. The Nidorina halted midstep and looked back for direction. Something crashed through the brambles behind it as Merle scrambled to all fours.

“Ow, ow, ow, shit, this shit is sharp!” someone, a boy, complained.

“Thorns are generally sharp, Everest,” someone else drawled.

The crashing came closer, and a girl with short black hair and slanted eyes like Go’s stepped onto the path. Her bare calves were covered in scratches, and she didn’t notice Merle right away. She was busy frowning behind her. “Come on, you two. I think Lydie’s scared somebody,” she said.

Merle lurched to their feet and retreated three hasty steps, bumping into a tree trunk and resting their hands on it as if they could somehow wrench it from the ground and wield it as a weapon. Their movement drew the girl’s attention to them. “Oh! Hey, there!” she said, bouncing forward and smiling at them in a friendly way. Her nose scrunched up when she smiled, making her nose ring glint. Merle looked at her long enough to determine that she was small and slight, wasn’t carrying any visible weapons, and decided they could probably take her if it came down to it. They focused on the Nidorina, who had thankfully turned her attention from them and was wandering over to the black-haired girl, who was presumably her trainer.

“Sorry about that,” the girl was saying. “She gave you a scare, did she? Away you go, Lydie.” She held up a pokeball, and the Nidorina disappeared in a flash of red light. “You okay?” she asked.

Merle looked away and nodded, tangling their fingers together. Their heart and head were pounding in a discordant rhythm, and they wanted nothing more than to curl up on the cool earth and close their eyes, but adrenaline was racing through their veins and it took all their willpower to not go screaming through the woods again when a tall, dark-skinned boy and a girl with red pigtails came through the trampled brambles.

“Lilac! Who’s that?” the boy said, stopping when they saw Merle.

“That’s a stupid question, Everest,” the red-haired girl said, coming to stand next to the black-haired girl. She rested her hands on her hips as she examined them, calling Merle’s attention to the fact that she had spiked bracelets on each wrist. “Don’t they look just like Leader Blanche?” She looked to the black haired girl. “They do, don’t they, Lilac?”

Lilac nodded. “It must be one of their little siblings, though I haven’t seen either one before. But they look so much like Leader Blanche, it can’t be a mistake.” She dropped into a crouch in front of Merle, staring up at them with her arms folded over her knees. “Whatcha doing out here, kiddo? Exploring? It’s a long way from anywhere.”

Merle edged backwards. She was taller and had more muscle tone than Lilac, and her loose clothing could conceal any number of weapons. She shifted, glancing back at Everest when they did not respond. Now Merle noticed that she had a yellow pin on her open black jacket. They recognized that emblem. “Are,” they began, but their voice came out hoarse and they coughed. “Are you members of Team Instinct?” they asked when they could breathe again.

“Yep!” Lilac said, smiling at them. She was younger than the others, Merle thought, though only by a year or two. “I just joined recently, but Haylee and Everest have been members longer than Leader Spark!”

Everest joined the girls, and Merle was starting to feel quite crowded. They edged further back, which the redhead, who by process of elimination had to be Haylee, noticed. She flung an arm out when Everest tried to move forward, blocking him from following. “Back up! Three strangers in the woods, crowding in on a kid? We’re scaring them!” she said.

Everest stepped back as ordered, wincing and rubbing his chest. “Geez, Hayl, those spikes are sharper than the brambles,” he grumbled. He turned his attention back to Merle, who felt a bit more comfortable now that they knew these were members of Spark’s team. That meant that they were more likely to be safe than random strangers, though Merle harboured no illusions that all of Spark’s followers were friendly and meant no harm.

“Seriously, kid, what are you doing out here? It’s a long way from civilization,” Everest was saying. “You don’t usually find anyone but Instinct trainers in these parts.”

“We went berry picking,” Merle whispered.

“We?”

“Me, Blanche, Noire, and Grisaille,” they clarified.

There was a chorus of “Oooooh's” from the semi-circle of Instinct trainers. “Which farm? We can take you back if you’re lost,” Lilac said.

Merle had to strain to remember. They had seen the sign as they’d driven past it, but pulling up thoughts was like digging through mud. “Mott’s,” they said when they found the right memory.

“That’s not far from here,” Haylee said, looking at Everest. He was nodding.

“Sure. We’ll take you back.” He held out a hand for Merle to take. After a moment’s hesitation, they took it with their injured hand, leaving their healthy arm free in case they needed to punch somebody.

The four of them went together through the brambles, Merle leaning on Everest for support as they struggled through the unstable footing and their own dizziness. Everest was frowning at Haylee. “They’re really warm,” he told her. “I think they’ve got a fever.”

She nodded. “All the more reason to get the back quicker.”

“You want a piggyback?” That was Lilac, appearing suddenly in front of them and leaning into their face.

They flinched and Everest had to catch them under their arms to keep them from falling over. “Lilac! Space!” Haylee scolded.

Merle shook their head. No, they did not want a piggyback. They would rather walk than be unnecessarily touched by strangers. Bad enough that Everest kept his hand on their back in case they stumbled again. They weren’t sure they could tolerate more.

It wasn’t a long walk. Soon they were in an open clearing, though not the one at the berry farm. There was a jeep parked just outside the tree line. The three Instinct trainers headed toward it, so Merle followed. Lilac skipped ahead and rested a hand on the handle, waiting for Everest to hit the unlock button on his remote before she pulled it open. Everest guided Merle to the open door, and they swallowed. This was their last chance to back out. But Everest, Lilac, and Haylee seemed safe enough. Everest gave them a little boost to help them onto the high seat, and Haylee clambered in after them.

Once everyone was seated and belted in, Haylee gave them a friendly smile. “Why were you in the woods?” Merle asked her as Everest slowly backed the car up and turned it around. They reached down with both hands to grip the seat as the jeep bumped over unpaved ground.

“Oh, we’re supposed to be catching Beedrill,” Haylee said. She didn’t seem to mind the bouncing. In fact, she whooped when they went over a particularly big bump and laughed as her head hit the ceiling. “But that’s okay. We’ll get back to it after we drop you off,” she said with a smile.

Merle managed smile back. “Thank you,” they murmured. “It’s very kind of you.”

Their stomach churned in circles at the thought of going back and facing Blanche, who was likely even more furious with them. And maybe Noire would be angry with them as well. They bunched their hands on their thighs and took a deep breath. All right. It would be okay. They laid their cheek against the cool window as the car pulled onto a dirt road with deep ruts worn by wheels. They could endure. They had endured worse.

Chapter Text

Blanche knew that they were being ridiculous.

While a tidy person by nature, they weren’t fond of cleaning. They left such trivial matters to the housekeeper that they hired to come in and clean their quarters while they were at work. So it was a bit of a puzzlement to them that here they were, wiping counter tops, vacuuming, and even taking a quick trip out to dispose of the trash.

Blanche attributed their uncharacteristic cleaning spree to simple nerves. Merle was coming over today. It would be their first visit to Blanche’s home - well, one of their homes. They had a bungalow that they technically owned but rarely went home to, finding the apartment granted to them near Mystic Labs more than serviceable, and it was a short ride on their motorcycle to work every morning. Other members of Team Mystic lived in the same building, and could be sought out if need be without even having to drive across the city. It was very convenient.

The apartment itself was luxurious, done up in whites and blues with plush carpets and large windows. Tasteful art covered the walls. There were books scattered on every available surface, which Blanche made an effort to tidy, but kept getting distracted by dusting. Didn’t their housekeeper ever dust? If not, what were they even paying her for? They grumbled as they ruthlessly eliminated dust bunnies.

They were rehearsing the lecture they would give to the errant housekeeper the next time they saw her when the buzzer went off. The dust cloth they were holding fell from their numb fingers. Oh no. Here already? They glanced at the clock over the stove, and their stomach gave a nervous flip. Seven o’clock precisely. Sabrina was punctual.

They had promised that they would go down to the lobby to greet the child. Sabrina wanted them escorted up. They were not to be left unsupervised. The professor had assured Blanche that she would stay in the car while they collected their little sibling, but Blanche had doubts about her integrity. Still, there was no choice but to ride down the elevator, their hands clenched into fists to keep them from shaking.

The elevator doors slicked open at the ground level, and Blanche strode out. There was Merle, clutching their hoodie strings and peeking through the glass pane of the front doors. They spotted Blanche approaching and straightened. They twisted to look behind them and waved to somebody outside. Probably a signal to Sabrina that Blanche had arrived to collect them.

Blanche could see their former foster mother sitting in her car as they opened the door and ushered Merle into the lobby. She waited until the doors closed behind the child before she drove away.

There was a spotted backpack slung over Merle’s shoulder. Blanche held out a hand, hoping that it didn’t tremble. “Here, allow me to carry that for you,” they offered. Their voice was cool. Too cool, bordering on unfriendly. They winced internally, but Merle was already shrugging the strap off their shoulder and passing the bag into their outstretched hand.

Blanche was tense on the ride up, and Merle made no attempt to converse. They opened their front door and stepped aside so Merle could enter ahead of them. Merle stepped inside and discarded their shoes, placing them side-by-side out of the way. With their hands clasped in front of them, they cast furtive glances around the room, noting the placement of doors, furniture, and windows. Inspection completed, they turned expectant eyes on Blanche. Because of course, Blanche was in charge.

“Follow me,” they ordered, and Merle did, marching behind them as Blanche led them into their small, seldom-used kitchen. “Have a seat,” they said, setting the backpack on the table in front of one of the chairs. Merle slid into the chair while Blanche tried to recall the plan they had formulated for the evening. It seemed to have vanished sometime between the buzzer sounding and Merle walking into their apartment. “Ah... would you like some juice?” They probably had juice. Annie kept them well stocked, because they never managed to remember themself.

Merle shrugged, unzipping their backpack and pulling out notebooks and pencils. Belatedly, Blanche realized that they had never offered to take Merle’s coat or told them where to put it. The child draped it over the back of their chair and set their bag down on the floor now that they had everything they needed out of it. Underneath their coat they were wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a Glaceon on the front.

Jealousy as bitter as poison burned Blanche’s throat when they realized who had undoubtedly picked the shirt out for them, because it had not been among Candela’s purchases. They stuffed the feeling down because it had no place in this relationship. It had already gotten them in trouble with Grisaille in the past. They would not repeat the same mistake with Merle. “That’s cute,” they said instead, indicating the shirt. Merle glanced up, but did not reply.

They poured juice into two glasses. “So, what have you been working on?” they asked into the silence after Merle had arranged their supplies in a manner that suited them. They set the glass well to the side of Merle's notebook, where it wouldn't be knocked as they moved around.

For once, Merle’s reply was prompt. “I was informed that my math and science skills are satisfactory at this time,” they reported. “My tutor wishes for me to practice my written English, as I can speak and understand, but my reading and writing abilities are poor. Professor Willow has given me applications on my tablet that have been of great assistance, but they are limited in their ability to correct my mistakes. I also need to read these chapters of my history textbook, because my tutor told Sabrina in my hearing that my knowledge of basic historical facts is lacking, bordering on nonexistent. I also need to learn how to form opinions on media I consume, and write short compositions describing my viewpoint.” Merle frowned. “There was more, but Noire turned the TV on so I did not hear that part of the conversation.”

Blanche blinked. They hadn’t realized that Merle was capable of talking as much as they just had. “I see...” they murmured, sipping their juice as they tried to come up with a plan. “Well, let’s start with your history, then,” they said after a long pause. “Can you read the chapter out loud to me?”

“I will do my best,” Merle said, stone faced. They picked up the thin text and flipped it to a page they had marked with a bright green sticky note. With the book flat on the table in front of them, Merle placed their finger below the first line and glanced up at Blanche, who nodded for them to begin.

Merle’s eyes flicked down and their expression settled into one of stern concentration. They began to read, their finger trailing below the words as they struggled to sound them out, floundering on difficult or long words. It became apparent that Merle’s tutor was correct: Merle’s reading ability was abysmal. Which didn’t make sense, Blanche thought. Merle read. Blanche had had several discussions with them about the periodicals Blanche left in their room. Their knowledge of the content was genuine.

“Merle,” Blanche said, interrupting by plancing a gentle hand on the page Merle was attempting to read. “Can you read at all?”

Merle blinked. “Yes. Aren’t I reading now?” they asked. A puzzled frown settled across their features when Blanche drew the textbook out of their hands in order to examine it. The language wasn’t particularly difficult...

“Yes, but not well,” Blanche said. “Can you understand what you’re reading?”

Without the book to occupy them, Merle hands settled in their lap. Blanche imagined them twisting together under the table. “I have to read it over once, to figure out what the words are,” Merle admitted slowly. Their eyes fixated on a drop of juice on the tabletop rather than on Blanche. “Then I read it over again, when I know the words, in order to get the meaning.”

“How many times do you have to read it before you fully understand?”

“Three to five, depending on the difficulty and subject matter. Familiar terminology is easier.” They glanced up, biting their lip as though they were about to make a shameful confession. “If the text is digital, I have figured out how to make my tablet read it to me.”

“Who practices reading with you at home?”

“My tutor.”

“How often does she come?”

“Every day.” Merle squirmed with the knowledge that they were not meeting expectations. “But we focus on more than just reading.”

“Do you practice on your own?”

“...Generally not.”

“Do so. Half an hour, minimum, every day.” Blanche stood. On a hunch, they motioned for Merle to wait at the table while they went into their bedroom. At least half of their personal reading material was in French; they selected a text that looked like it would be the reading level of a native French-speaker Merle’s age. They presented it to Merle upon their return to the kitchen. “Can you read this?”

Merle flipped the cover open and turned to the page where the book truly began. They pushed their hair back and began to read. As Blanche suspected, they could read the French flawlessly. It was the language that was the problem, not a disability.

They pushed their hair back again, this time impatiently, as it slid back into their eyes. Wordlessly, Blanche got up and stood behind them. Merle tensed and stopped reading as Blanche’s fingers threaded through their hair, pulling it carefully back into a little ponytail, which they secured with a bright pink hair elastic. Blanche returned to their seat and gave an awkward cough as Merle stared at them. “Better?” they asked.

Merle nodded, then turned their attention back to their book. After another minute, they resumed reading in a soft voice.

“All right, stop there,” Blanche said. Merle did, marking their place with a finger, a trait that Blanche was rapidly beginning to find endearing. They could not recall themself or Noire doing that every time they had to put a book down. “Is anyone actively tutoring you in the English language right now?”

The little crease that always formed between Merle’s brows when they were puzzled or anticipating disapproval made an appearance. “...No,” they said, drawing the word out slowly. “I think... It does not seem to be a priority, as I speak English passably well.” They amended quickly, hands clutching at their pants.

They spoke it more than passably, but there was no need to quibble over minor details. “Very well. We’ll focus on your English, for now,” Blanche said. They had no idea how to teach a language, but they had vague memories of being a student. That would help, right?

They stood again. “That textbook is too difficult for you at this time. I’ll see if I have any easier material for you to start with. Ah... I believe Spark gave you some children’s books?”

“Yes, but I left them at Sabrina’s home.”

“That’s all right. You can practice reading those at home. I will find you more. As your reading level increases, we can move on to more difficult books.”

As they were leaving the kitchen, they noticed the way Merle’s shoulders hunched. They paused in their single-minded problem-action-solution approach. “Merle,” they said with rare gentleness, waiting until the child looked up at them. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You just need practice. You’re very smart.”

They continued to their living room bookshelves, thinking that the child was very cute when they smiled, even a tiny smile like that one.

Chapter Text

It was dim inside the arcade. The walls were painted black with swirls of sparkling silver and gold paint, adding to the image of darkness. There were dim lights set at intervals in the ceiling, but most of the light came from the rows of games themselves: blinking lights, bright and neon. Long ropes of LED lights lined the screens and controls. It was also loud. Merle, unfamiliar with arcades, flinched as the cacophony of beeps, electronic voices, music, and people talking hit them. Their shoulders hunched around their ears, and they walked faster to catch up with Noire and Grisaille, who had gotten ahead.

Grisaille had made many previous trips to the arcade with Noire, and was therefore unfazed. They stood at Noire’s elbow, waiting expectantly while Noire bought tokens at the service counter. Merle hovered behind them, glancing around uneasily.

“All right, Merle?” Noire asked without turning around.

Merle nodded, then realized that Noire couldn’t see them with their back turned the way it was. “Yes. It is just... hard to hear,” they said, their voice too soft to be easily heard in the din.

Noire passed Grisaille a roll of tokens, and they wandered off to find a game. Once they were gone, Noire turned to Merle and ruffled their hair. “I know. It takes some getting used to. Stick close to me until you feel more comfortable, ‘kay?”

Merle smoothed down their hair, which Noire had rumpled. After a moment, they nodded. Noire waited a moment to make sure they weren’t going to say anything more, then threaded through the narrow alleys between games to find Grisaille, Merle at their heels.

As Grisaille had distinctive looks, they were easily spotted at the Whack-a-Diglett machine. They were examining it with a thoughtful frown, the padded hammer in their hand. They glanced back when they sensed their approach, then relaxed when they realized it was only their siblings.

Noire lounged against the neighbouring game, leaning their arms back against the smooth console. “Hey, Gris. Gonna whack some Digletts?” they asked, giving Grisaille enough space to play.

“They are not real Digletts, are they?” Grisaille asked, concerned. They had never played this game before.

“’Course not. They’re plastic.”

Grisaille nodded. “Okay.” They meticulously counted out the necessary tokens and bent to slide them into the slot. The machine burst to life, the neon tube of lights that wound around it coruscating off the glossy black walls. A countdown displayed on the screen, and Grisaille’s body braced, feet a shoulder-width apart, hammer at the ready.

“GO!” The machine roared, and Diglett began to pop out of the holes of the table in a discordant rhythm.

Whack. Whack. Whack whack. Whack.

The Digletts lit up as Grisaille struck them in rapid sucession, retreating back down their holes. It was no surprise when the game announced that Grisaille had gotten a perfect score, and a stream of tickets came out of the machine. Grisaille replaced the hammer in its holder, and bent to rip off the tokens.

“I did well?” they asked, looking up at Noire for approval while their nimble hands folded the tickets and tucked them into the pocket of their hoodie.

“Yeah, you rocked it. Well done!” Noire said, grinning and ruffling their hair. They knew how much positive feedback meant to the child - and how disused to it they still were.

Grisaille smiled, pleased, and looked around for something else to do.

“Do you want me to stay close to you, or will you be fine on your own?” Noire asked Grisaille. They could feel Merle almost pressed up against their back, and knew they would need more supervision and support than Grisaille would. So if Grisaille was comfortable going off on their own, Noire would allow it, as long as they stayed within their line of sight.

Grisaille considered the question. “I would like to stay close to you and Merle,” they decided. “The point is to spend time together and have fun. But I do not require help to play.”

“Sounds good. Hey, Merle, do you see anything you want to try?” Noire fished the child out from behind them and rested their hands on Merle’s shoulders in a way that they hoped felt supportive rather than confining.

“I do not know how to play,” Merle murmured. Noire had to bend down and ask them to repeat it, their ear close to the child’s mouth.

“Hey, no problem! They all got instructions on ‘em, see?” Noire pointed a shiny black nail at the instructions on the Whack-a-Diglett machine to prove it while Merle frowned doubtfully. Noire hoped the child would warm up. They had been excited to come, and now they were staring around with wide eyes and a tight mouth. Noire could tell that Merle was overwhelmed, and hoped that they would become more comfortable once they actually got to play something.

When Merle didn’t move, Noire straightened and dropped their hands from Merle's shoulders. Hm... What would be a simple game that wasn’t overwhelming for a first-timer? Their eyes flicked along the machines and landed at the far wall. Yes, perfect.

“Gris, let’s go over there,” they said, pointing. “To the skee ball machines. I think that would be a good place for Merle to start.”

Grisaille led the way across the room, Noire behind them and Merle trailing at the rear. They reached the skee ball table and realized they had lost Merle somewhere. Noire’s head swivelled around and found Merle standing a little ways off, examining one game with a puzzled expression.

“Hey, Merle. What are you doing?” they asked.

“Why would anyone want to be electrocuted?” Merle asked in a thin voice, eyes wide.

Surprised, Noire looked from their face to the game they were staring at. And winced.

The game console was tall and shaped like an Electivire. In the Electivire’s hands were two metal rods. The instructions explained that for single player play, one person could hold each metal rod and a current would run through. The point was to hold it for as long as possible. There were different intensity settings, and two people could play by holding hands.

Noire understood why it would not be appealing to Merle.

They draped their arm around their little sibling’s shoulders. “People like Spark like these kind of games. It’s like... putting as much sour stuff in your mouth at one time and making silly faces, or seeing how many marshmallows you can cram in your mouth at one time. Or, like, eating the spiciest pepper you can find. Some people like that kind of stuff, like it’s an endurance challenge. You know? You don’t have to play. C’mon, the game I have in mind is more fun,” Noire said, gently leading them away and to the skee ball game.

This game was more physical than some of the others. A long track led to a series of protruding hoops with round holes for the balls to go through. The points each hole was worth was marked above them. Noire guided Merle to one of the machines and explained that the point of the game was to roll the ball along the track and up the curve and get it in one of the holes.

“Here, Gris will show you. Gris?”

Obediently, Grisaille plugged tokens into the neighbouring machine. There was a clicking noise, and balls rolled from the covered gutter next to the track. Grisaille picked one up and rolled it expertly down the track, getting it in the second loop. Their points flashed in red letters at the top of the machine. They offered Merle a small smile. “Like that.”

Merle, who had been watching Grisaille’s movements closely, nodded. “I understand. I will try.”

Grisaille went back to playing, since the game was timed, while Merle selected their first ball and rolled it. The throw was too feeble, only going into the lowest hole. Their next throw was too enthusiastic, nearly hitting the top of the machine before it plummeted to the bottom, catching in the lowest loop and being funneled into the bottom hole.

Merle frowned at the machine. “I do not think I am very good at this,” they said crossly. They leveled an offended stare at Noire when they didn’t smother a laugh fast enough. “What?”

“Nothing. Try again,” Noire said, covering their mouth with one hand and gesturing at the balls with the other.

Still frowning suspiciously, Merle turned back to the game. Now that they had gauged the force needed, their throws improved rapidly and they racked up points. When their time ran out, they were in a better mood. They collected their tickets without seeming to mind that they had earned less than Grisaille at the game.

“Do you want to play again?” Grisaille asked.

“Maybe later. I would like to try something else first,” Merle replied. Now that they understood the “rules” of the arcade, they moved with more confidence to the next game.

“What is this?” they asked, stopping at a raised platform with coloured arrows that flashed in bright neon. More arrows danced across the screen in front of the platform. Merle squinted suspiciously at it.

“DDR,” Noire said.

“DD... R?” Merle asked, nose crinkling. “Is that similar to DVD?”

Noire laughed. “No, it’s short for Dance Dance Revolution. It’s a dancing game.”

“It is an enjoyable game,” Grisaille said, appearing at Merle’s elbow. “We could play together if you like.” They moved as though to grip Merle’s sleeve and changed their mind at the last moment, tucking their hands into their pockets instead.

Merle thought for a moment, then nodded. “What are the rules?”

Noire quickly explained how the game worked while Merle listened attentively. Halfway through they began to look worried. “It is competitive?” they asked.

Correctly reading the concern on their face, Noire hastened to reassure them. “It’s just for fun, Merle. Nothing happens if you lose.”

Merle still looked uncertain, but Grisaille had climbed one of the platforms and was leaning against the railing, waiting for them. Merle met their eyes for a moment in silent communication, then nodded. “All right,” they said, and climbed the short staircase to the platform. Noire helped them set the difficulty level and stood back while the countdown began.

Merle was quick, but Grisaille had the advantage of experience on their side and ended up the victor. Merle’s face froze and they glanced back at Noire, who beamed at them. “You both did so well! Good job!” they enthused, ruffling both children’s hair.

Merle’s shoulders relaxed and they drew in an unsteady breath while Grisaille hopped off the platform. “It is your turn now,” they told Noire.

“Oh, that’s okay. You two go ahead,” Noire said, catching the look of wide-eyed panic on Merle’s face.

“We have to take turns or it is not fair. That is what Professor Willow said,” Grisaille said, frowning. Another refusal would have made them back down, but it was so rare for them to assert themself that Noire couldn’t bring themself to do it.

“Just for fun, remember,” they said, facing Merle across the platform.

Merle nodded without speaking, staring at the screen as it counted down. Noire could feel the stress rolling off them despite the couple feet between them, and frowned. They were good at DDR. There wasn’t anyone in Team Rocket who could beat them. Amelie came close, but she cheated. But Noire kept their eyes on Merle’s score and made sure that they scored just below them. Seeing Merle’s pale, determined face transform into one of surprise when they realized they won was worth the blow to Noire’s competitive pride.

“Well done!” They gave the child a one-armed hug around the shoulders before releasing them and jumping down from the platform. “Is there anything else you want to try?”

##

After an hour, the three of them had accumulated a good haul of tickets. “Noire?” Merle asked.

“Hm?”

“I have been intending to ask... but what are the tickets for?”

“Oh, you redeem them at the counter for prizes.”

“What is a ‘prize’?”

“Ahhh... It’s like gagner un prix. Except, instead of winning the prize right away, you get the tickets first and then you can choose which prize you want. Though, you have to have enough tickets.”

“Like buying something with money?”

“Yeah, like that!”

Merle looked around. The siblings had tucked themselves into the hallway near the washrooms. It was brightly lit with fluorescent tubes, rather than the LED and neon lights of the arcade itself. It was painted a sterile white that reminded Noire unpleasantly of a hospital, but it offered welcome relief from the noise and pulsing colours of the arcade, which Noire could tell Merle was starting to find overwhelming. It was obvious from the way Merle pressed up against their side, their fingers hooked through Noire’s belt loop. They were a bit pale, which Noire found concerning.

“You want a drink?” Noire asked.

“Is that what we’re going to do now?” Merle asked at the same time.

Both blinked. “What?” they asked in unison, then frowned, also in unison.

Grisaille started to giggle, smothering the sound with both hands and turning away to hide it.

“What?” Noire repeated, though this time they were looking at Grisaille.

“I would like a drink,” Grisaille said, lowering their hands. They still had a slight smile on their face as they looked at Noire. “Perhaps we can choose our prizes first, and then get a drink and a snack next door?”

The arcade was next to an awesome deli with really amazing sandwiches and potato salad. Noire and their squad liked to stop by there after hitting the arcade when they had time off, and lately they had been including Grisaille as well.

“I do not want a snack,” Merle protested, but Noire was already nodding.

“Sure, sounds good.” They bumped their knuckles against Merle’s shoulder. “I’m hungry even if you’re not,” they said. “And obviously Grisaille is, since they suggested it. You’ll have to suck it up, mon petit chouchou.”

Grisaille led the way to the prize counter. They explained to Merle how to use the nearby machine to count their tickets for them, so that they did not have to do it themself. “You can also choose to bank your tickets, and save up for bigger prizes if you come a lot,” Grisaille explained. “Though I usually spend mine on candy.” They paused though, hovering nearby while Merle peered through the glass.

Merle spent a portion of their tickets on marbles, and kept reaching into the mesh bag to run their fingers over the smooth spheres. “You have enough tickets to get something else, as long as it’s small,” Noire said, leaning over their shoulder.

Grisaille edged between them and Merle and bent close to whisper into Merle’s ear. Merle leaned in closer in order to hear, and after a hesitation, nodded. Noire watched them curiously as Grisaille waved to get the counter attendant’s attention. “We want one of those each, please,” they whispered, still shy with strangers.

“What colour?” she asked.

“Purple,” Grisaille said.

“Red,” Merle said.

The girl dug through a drawer and procured two plastic rings in the specified colours. “Here you go.”

Grisaille put theirs on and waited while Merle slid theirs on more slowly. “Now we match,” they said with that tiny, shy smile Noire loved so much.

“Yeah,” Merle agreed.

On the short walk to the deli, Merle fiddled with their marbles. The exchange in the arcade, however cute Noire found it, seemed to have embarrased the child. They were very quiet while they waited in line at the deli counter.

Noire and Grisaille ordered, and Noire nudged Merle forward. They resisted. “I am not hungry,” they protested.

“I promised that I would feed you,” Noire countered. “You don’t have to order anything big. How does some cheddar and broccoli soup sound?” their voice turned wheedling.

“Fine.” Merle looked defeated as they accepted the container of soup from Noire and followed the other two to a table near the window.

“Did you have fun?” Noire asked as they unwrapped their sandwich.

Grisaille nodded. “Yes. I enjoy going to the arcade,” they said. They took a prim bite of their sandwich, and stared expectantly at Merle for their answer.

“Yes. It was fun,” Merle said.

Noire beamed, because that was a rare statement from Merle, and therefore high praise. “Great! I’ll take you again sometime. I dunno when though. Soon.”

Merle offered them a shy smile and reached across to take Noire’s hand in theirs. “I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

Merle liked to visit Noire. They didn’t even mind that the visits were unpredictable, both in timing and in destination. Noire had their own apartment downtown, as well as a set of rooms at Rocket HQ. They also had access to the network of Rocket safe houses scattered across the city, and would stay in any one of them when they needed to lie low for a while. Getting into the car with Noire was an interesting experience, because Merle never knew where they would end up. There were, however, some commonalities that they could be assured of no matter where they ended up.

The first was, naturally, Noire. And where Noire was, there was bound to be a bunch of Eevee-themed paraphernalia crammed into the space. Merle wasn’t sure whether Noire hauled their Eevee gear from place to place, or if they used Team Rocket funds to outfit all of the safe houses with the Eevee items they loved. If the latter was the case, Merle wondered what the other Rocket members who used those spaces thought.

Occasionally Amelie, Spark, Lief, or Mike would join them for an afternoon, playing board games or video games, making weird concoctions in the kitchen, and eating junk food. No matter who else came, one other creature was guaranteed to be there.

That was Petit, Noire’s beloved companion and Eevee.

Professor Willow and Sabrina were very careful to keep their pokemon away from Merle and out of their sight, determined to make Merle feel as safe and comfortable as they could possibly be. Merle knew that both adults let their pokemon out while at work and while Merle was otherwise not around, and they appreciated the consideration for their well-being. Noire, too, was careful. Or, well, they tried to be.

The unfortunate fact was, “careful” was not one of Noire’s personality traits. They often forgot that Petit shouldn’t be let out around Merle. Or, feeling guilty for keeping their precious baby in her pokeball for a long period of time, they would move to another room to let her run around, and accidentally release her into the rest of the apartment. But this was okay, Merle reasoned. They could deal with this and learn to adapt.

Eventually.

Petit would always be less frightening when she was on the floor and they were sitting on top of the fridge. She couldn’t get them from their high perch, a fact that seemed to frustrate her. She spun in an angry circle, then braced her paws on the fridge door to yip at them, demanding that they come down so she could eat them. Well, maybe not eat them. Noire seemed very certain that Eevees did not eat humans, even human children. Merle wasn’t sure they believed this, as Noire had not presented any data to back up this claim. The fact that Petit hadn’t eaten Noire didn’t prove anything. Noire was the Blanche. No pokemon would dare attempt to eat them.

As a precaution, Merle drew their legs up to their chest. They didn’t think Petit could jump high enough to get their feet as she was too chubby (an opinion they would never voice to Noire). However, a healthy dose of caution had gotten them this far in life. They were still alive. They had all their limbs, though one arm was unfortunately broken and the other permanently damaged. But they still had all ten fingers and ten toes. The same couldn’t be said for everyone, so they thought they had done well, considering.

They hoped Noire would get out of the shower soon. They didn’t want to be stuck up here for much longer. Their back was beginning to cramp from the hunched-over position they were forced into in order to fit between the top of the fridge and the ceiling. A tight, hard knot had formed between their shoulder blades, and they winced and wiggled in an attempt to ease the pain. They could endure pain. It was just irritating, because in this sort of situation they shouldn’t have to. Why was Noire taking so long, anyway? It should only take approximately 10 minutes to get clean. Of course, Noire had a lot of hair. They mentally amended their estimation. Hair that long would certainly take longer to brush and comb out than their own shoulder-length hair. Even so, by their calculations Noire should have finished showering five minutes ago.

They had grabbed a box of poffins on their way up the fridge in case they needed something to distract Petit with while they escaped. Now a different thought occurred to them. They pondered the box, counting the number of poffins inside. Six. Surely six poffins would be more than enough the fill an Eevee’s stomach? Even one as gluttonous as Petit. And if her stomach was full of poffins, Petit wouldn’t be inclined to eat Merle.

Merle dug a hand in the box. Hearing the bag inside crinkle, Petit’s ears perked up and she stopped jumping. Huge brown eyes fixed on the poffin Merle held out, and the Eevee went perfectly still. Merle tossed the poffin lightly so that it landed on the opposite side of the kitchen table. Petit bolted after it, paws skittering on the linoleum.

Merle pushed off the top of the fridge and dropped to the table. Their feet made the barest thud as they hit, exactly as they had been taught. They crouched, leaning over to peer over the edge. Petit had grabbed a poffin the size of her head and was trying to scarf it down in one bite. Merle hoped that she would not choke to death. Noire would be sad. Still, they valued their life more than hers, so they tossed the remaining poffins, box and all, over the side of the table.

From the look on Petit’s face as the treats spilled across the floor, one would have thought angels had descended from the heavens to grant her dearest wish.

While she was distracted, Merle bounded off the table, through the tiny living space, and into the bedroom. It was the only place, other than the occupied bathroom or the front closet, that had a door they could use to shut Petit out. They closed it gratefully and flopped on the bed. They were strangely tired. Too much spoiling, they mused, and not enough training. Soon they would be as soft and round as Petit. They hoped Sabrina would let them resume their training once their arm healed. They felt like a soggy noodle compared to how strong they used to be, even with the exercises they did in their room in secret in the middle of the night. They got the sense that Sabrina would disapprove if she knew about that.

Unbeknownst to Merle, it wasn’t Noire’s fault that Petit had escaped from the bedroom. The door didn’t latch properly, and drifted open by itself while Merle stared at the ceiling. Which was how, moments later, Noire entered the bedroom to find Merle corpse-stiff with Petit draped affectionately over their chest. The larger-than-average Eevee nuzzled the child’s face, grateful for the poffins she had been given, and Merle’s eyes widened fractionally in terror. They didn’t move as Noire scooped Petit off them and swung her into their arms, though they did take a single deep breath.

“Sorry, Merle. I’ll put her away,” Noire said with an apologetic laugh.

Merle nodded mutely. They sat up with caution and smoothed their hair. Petit hadn’t eaten them, so they supposed their little experiment had worked. From now on, they would need to make sure they were armed for future dealings with Petit. Given Noire’s penchant for spoiling the Eevee, they did not anticipate difficulty acquiring the necessary treats.

##

Merle peered into the fridge without interest. There wasn’t anything that looked appealing. Yogurt, some cheese, some celery, a liter jug of chocolate milk, leftover Chinese food... Merle sighed and closed the fridge. Perhaps they could lie to Spark and claim they had already had a snack? It would only be a few minutes before Sabrina returned for them, after all. But Sabrina would get the truth out of them when they returned home. Somehow she always did, and then perhaps Spark would be punished for not adequately feeding them while they were under his care...

Something licked their ankle.

Merle gasped and leaped to the side, reflexively kicking in that direction. Their foot connected with something soft and heavy that made a whump noise on impact. They whirled, back pressed painfully against the counter top, and stared at Petit as the Eevee rolled over and scrambled to her feet. She yowled angrily and advanced on them, showing teeth. Noire must have arrived to hang out with Spark and let Petit out without realizing Merle was in the apartment.

Their heart froze in their chest, and they swallowed hard. Now they had done it. Petit had a temper and would not forgive them kicking her. They edged away, following the line of the counter, and Petit followed. Her muscles bunched in preparation to spring, and Merle reached behind them for the tray of homemade pokemon treats Spark had left to cool on the counter. They were warm, almost hot, in their hands, and they threw one at Petit.

The treat struck her in the face. She flinched, giving Merle enough time to leap over her and dash down the hallway to safety.

##

Merle was in trouble now.

Petit had backed them into a corner of the living room. Escape was blocked by Petit on one side, and a marble fireplace on the other. Spark had endeavored to teach Merle about pokemon body language so that they could determine when a pokemon actually intended to attack them or not. He would have called Petit’s body language “friendly” or “playful.” Her ribs were pressed low to the ground, her backside wiggling in the air and her tail wagging. Her ears were perked up, but not in a position that Spark said would signal aggression.

Merle was not convinced. Pokemon moods could turn on a dime, and just because she looked friendly now didn’t mean she would stay that way. One wrong move, and they could get their face ripped off. And they were out of ammunition. They had used up the poffins they had stashed in their pockets for emergencies the last time Noire had come to visit. Sabrina didn’t buy any because she never let her pokemon out at home these days, so there was no point. Merle built up their stash from stealing poffins at Noire’s and Spark’s apartments, and they hadn’t been to either in a week. They had been to visit Blanche, but they tended to hover over Merle in a way the others did not, and they didn’t think they could steal from their older sibling’s poffin stash without Blanche noticing.

In summary, they were cornered, unarmed, and were forbidden from fighting Petit. Their powers were too middling to be of any use.

“Merle? You okay?” Noire asked.

Merle did not tear their eyes from the Eevee, who was creeping slowly across the ground on her belly toward them. Noire sounded like they were standing near the kitchen, which meant that they likely couldn’t see Petit from their position. “I am fine,” Merle said, when what they meant was Oh please get this creature away from me.

Noire must have heard it in their voice, though, because their footsteps ventured closet. “Oh, shit,” they said, and then slim brown hands scooped under Petit’s belly and lifted her off the ground. “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m bad at this.”

Merle’s eyes followed the pokemon as she was tucked under Noire’s arm like a football. She was complaining loudly about her confinement, pawing at Noire’s hip. “Hush,” they said, stroking her head. “She’s really determined to be friends with you,” they told Merle.

’I do not want to be her friend,’ Merle thought, but was too polite to say out loud. They skirted around Noire, staying as far from Petit as they could. They backed up until they hit the kitchen table, and hoisted themself onto it. They settled there, cross-legged, and finally allowed themself to relax a little.

“I am sorry you had to come to my rescue,” they said. “I ran out of offerings.”

“Offerings?” Noire asked.

“Yes. For Petit. She is the queen.”

Surprise flickered across Noire’s face, then they burst out laughing. “Yeah,” they said, beaming. “Yeah, she is.”

Chapter Text

“I really ain’t sure about this, Blanche,” Spark said, not for the first time.

Blanche glanced behind them. They had Merle’s smaller hand tucked into theirs. Spark was following, Candela next to them. Both of them looked equally apprehensive. Looming ahead of them was a sign that said Opal City Pokemon Petting Zoo, which explained their companions' uneasy expressions.

“That is why I invited you and Candela along,” Blanche said. “If we keep Merle away from all pokemon forever, they will never learn to live with them. This will make it very hard for them to be a functioning member of society, as pokemon are everywhere. Therefore, they need to have low-stakes interactions with pokemon in a safe environment.”

“Yeah, I get that. I just think it would be better to do this at your labs. That’s a safe, er, controlled environment, right?” Spark said.

“I agree with Spark,” Candela said, staring at the back of Merle’s head with sisterly concern. “There’s too many elements here that we can’t control. And too many people.”

Blanche agreed, except... “Merle does not react well to the labs,” they admitted. “The environment triggers them. I thought a more child-friendly event might yield a better result. The Professor agreed. As well, there are three of us and one of them. We should be able to keep them safe.” They pushed aside the nagging doubts at the corner of their mind that told them that somehow, someway, they would mess this up like they always did when it came to the child.

Up until this point, Merle had been pretending not to hear the adults discussing them; now they spoke up. “It is all right,” they said, twisting around to look at Spark and Candela. “Blanche and I have discussed today. The pokemon will be in enclosures, and I do not have to touch them if I do not want to. It is my choice. And I am to speak up if I feel uncomfortable or frightened. If I want to leave, we will leave immediately. And you three will be here to protect me.” Their small fingers squeezed Blanche’s. “I trust you.”

The Team Leaders looked touched, and Blanche had to cough to clear their suddenly tight throat as Merle gazed up at them. “Did I remember everything?” Merle asked.

“Yes, that covers it,” Blanche said. They approached the entrance and paid for entry. Merle obediently held out their wrist so the employee could wrap a wristband around it. The others followed suit, and as they proceeded into the petting zoo Merle reached for Blanche’s hand again.

Leaning over Blanche’s shoulder, Spark murmured into their ear, “Maybe we should start with something small? Baby pokemon that way.” He pointed to a sign with a cartoon Smoochum and a red arrow. Blanche nodded and tugged Merle in that direction.

There were more reasons than Blanche had listed why they thought this would be a good event for Merle. It was outdoors, so it felt less closed and claustrophobic than a lab, and because of the baby pokemon, having outside pokemon running around was strictly prohibited. The only pokemon present were behind fences or mesh walls that had to be entered in order to interact with the pokemon. Realizing this, Merle relaxed their death grip on Blanche’s hand.

The first enclosure they came to held three Riolu. Merle politely peered inside, but declined to join the excited children lining up to be let in. Due to the delicate nature of the babies, there was a limit of three children in the enclosure at a time. Everyone had to wait their turn.

After a moment of watching a toddler girl with her mother petting the smallest Riolu, Merle moved on. The adults surrounded them in loose formation, keeping strangers from getting too close. At the next enclosure, they watched a group of Tyrogue playfully wrestle with a pair of small boys, who rolled on the ground shrieking with laughter.

Merle had let go of Blanche’s hand at some point. Now they gripped Spark’s sleeve. “Those are happy sounds, yes? They are not hurt?” they whispered.

“That’s right.” Spark smiled at them. “Tyrogue are fighting type, so they like to play rough. They’re very popular with boys, as you can see. Everyone’s having a blast.”

Reassured, Merle nodded and looked around. “What’s over there?”

Jealous of the attention the others were getting, Candela butted in, snatching Merle’s hand before Spark could and gently escorting the child in the direction they had pointed. “Let’s go see!”

Blanche shot Spark an amused look, and he grinned and followed. They caught up with Candela and Merle at a small enclosure that was set up to look like a small pond. Merle was frowning.

“I do not see anything,” they told Candela, stepping up the the fence to see more clearly. “Are you sure there is something in here?”

“Yep,” she said, winking at Blanche as they approached. “Look, over by that lily pad.”

Merle turned their head, and gasped. “Oh,” they breathed. “It’s so small.”

Blanche and Spark stepped closer to see what they were looking at. The surface of the pond was dotted with lily pads and water lilies. Near one, a tiny blue face poked out. As they watched, the Azurill pulled itself onto a lily pad and stared back at them.

Merle made a tiny sound that Blanche was intimately acquainted with. They had heard it come out of their twin’s mouth more times than they could count, and it gave them a jolt to hear it from the child. “It’s round,” Merle whispered. They crouched, smiling uncertainly, and stuck a finger through the mesh separating them from the pokemon.

The Azurill’s head tilted curiously as it regarded Merle. After a moment it splashed into the water and vanished. Blanche was disappointed for a moment, before the Azurill resurfaced inches away. It bounced out of the water and up to Merle’s finger, leaning forward to sniff. Merle’s body went perfectly still as the Azurill inspected them, its little dot of a nose bumping against their fingertip before it splashed back into the water to rejoin the other tiny faces that peered out at them.

Merle remained they were for a moment longer with their finger stuck into the enclosure, but the Azurill didn’t come back. “You can get in the enclosure with them if you want,” Candela said. “You’re allowed.”

Merle straightened up, brushing the hands over the front of their shorts. “No, thank you, Candela,” they said. “I would prefer not to do that yet.”

Blanche brushed their hair out of their face. “And that is perfectly all right,” they said firmly. “If today goes well, we can always come back.” Their cheeks reddened when Merle shot them a small smile.

The next enclosure was set up much the same way and was full of Mantykes. After that was Bonsley, Budew, Smoochum, Pichu, and Magby (which weren’t allowed to be touched due to their high temperature). At each enclosure Merle stood or crouched neer the fence, staring at the pokemon inside, but didn’t show any interest in touching any of them like they had with the Azurill.

Until they hit the Igglybuff enclosure.

When their eyes landed on the round, pink pokemon Merle gasped and made that sound again. It was tiny and high pitched. The three adults watched as Merle pressed themself right up against the fence of the enclosure. One of the Igglybuff spotted them and bounced over with a friendly smiled, chattering at them in a high voice.

“Hello,” Merle whispered through the wooden slats. “You are so round.” They stuck an arm through the slats and gently poked the pokemon in the belly, to everyone’s surprise. The Igglybuff made a sound that might have been a giggle and attempted to poke them back, but it had stubby arms that were too short to reach Merle. Merle made a sound that was definitely a giggle and poked it again, earning a frustrated grimace from the Igglybuff when it still failed to poke them back.

“High five?” Merle asked, offering their hand palm-out. Gleeful, the Igglybuff poked the center of their palm and darted away. “...That is not how that works,” Merle said, and turned with a frown at the stifled laughter from Spark and Candela. “What is it?” they asked.

“Nothing, hon. You’re just being really cute,” Candela said.

“You like it?” Spark asked, crouching next to Merle.

“It is round,” Merle said, as if that explained everything.

“Yeah, I see that. Want to see some other round pokemon?”

Merle stared at him with wide eyes. “Are there more?” they asked.

“You bet,” Spark said, stifling a grin. “C’mon, Blanche will show us where to find some.”

##

Blanche couldn’t believe it. They leaned against the inner wall of the enclosure, arms across their chest, openly staring at the scene before them. In the middle of the enclosure sat Merle with Spark on one side and Candela on the other. There was a Hoothoot on their lap. Merle was smiling and patting it lightly on the head.

Candela gaped at Merle, and then gaped at Blanche. 'Can you believe this?' she mouthed at them, and they shook their head. No, this was unbelievable. Merle couldn’t even tolerate Noire’s Eevee despite having frequent contact with her, or so Spark had told them. And yet here they were, with a strange Hoothoot on their lap. They had asked to enter an enclosure with a pokemon, and now they were holding it.

Blanche pushed off the wall and walked over, sitting on the ground in front of Merle. Even more surprising was that there were other pokemon in the enclosure. There was a Noctowl perched high in the corner that Merle kept stealing uneasy glances at, but it hadn’t stopped them from wanting in to pet the Hoothoot.

“So,” Blanche said, reaching out to gently stroke the pokemon’s head, their fingers brushing against Merle’s in the process. “You like Hoothoot?”

“Yes, I like Hoothoot,” Merle replied, and lapsed back into silence, continuing to pat the pokemon gently on the head. The Hoothoot, whose handler had assured Blanche was exceptionally friendly when they were debating whether to actually allow Merle into the enclosure, looked blissful. When Merle stopped petting it, it grabbed their sleeve in its beak to bring their hand close again. Rather than being frightened, Merle giggled and scratched the pokemon’s tummy.

“Why do you like Hoothoot?” Blanche asked. And why did they trust one enough to hold it?

“It’s round,” Merle said. Blanche was starting to understand that the child liked round pokemon best, but Merle hadn’t wanted to hold any of the other pokemon, just this one. Feeling the weight of Blanche’s gaze on them, Merle’s shoulders curled. “Sparrow had one,” they whispered.

“Who?” Spark interrupted, surprised.

“Sparrow. They had a Hoothoot. They used it to carry messages. It was nice. It liked to sit on my head.” They broke off and frowned. Gently they picked the Hoothoot up and set it to the side, giving it a final pat. “I want to leave now,” they said, and refused to say another word until Blanche dropped them off at Sabrina’s condominium, where they whispered a goodbye and dashed inside, the door banging shut behind them.

Chapter Text

Merle went straight to bed when they returned to Noire’s safe house, without eating lunch. They dozed for the rest of the afternoon, curled in a tight ball underneath all the blankets they could find. At one point Noire went in and pressed a hand to their forehead, frowning when they found it warm. But was that from being out in the sun all day, or because they were sick? Still, Noire left them be, entertaining Grisaille with card games and video games. Spark dropped by again and was concerned when Noire said that Merle was sleeping in the bedroom.

“Aw, are they sick?” he asked. He had brought out the leftover marshmallows and was toasting them with a lighter on the balcony before sandwiching them in graham crackers and chocolate and passing the finished s’mores to Grisaille to consume.

“Hey, gimme one of those,” Noire said, holding out a hand.

“Hang on, I gotta finish toasting it first,” Spark said, frowning in concentration as he carefully twirled the fork the marshmallow was skewered on.

“Fine. And yeah, I don’t think they’re feeling well. It could also be because they’re upset about this morning. It’s hard to tell with Merle.”

Marshmallow toasting completed, Spark arranged the marshmallow between graham crackers and chocolate and handed it to Noire. “Something happened? Blanche was in an awful mood when they got home. Though I don't think they're feeling well, either. They're curled up with Candela's pokemon.”

Noire elected not to ask how he knew that. “Yeah, Blanche had a stick up their ass today and took it out on Merle, who ran off, ended up in Instinct territory. Oh, right! Three of your guys need raises! I can’t remember their names. Gris?” Noire tapped their knuckles on Grisaille’s arm to get their attention. “What were the names of those Instinct trainers?”

“Everest, Haylee, and Lilac,” Grisaille said dutifully. They had acquired Spark’s lighter and were attempting to toast a marshmallow, but they were being too cautious about it and weren’t holding the marshmallow close enough to the flame.

“What’d they do?” Spark asked, interested.

“Found Merle and brought them right back. And stood up to Blanche when they tried to rip Merle a new one, which was damn impressive,” Noire said, making gestures in the air with their half-eaten s’more and dripping melted chocolate on Spark’s pants. Grisaille’s marshmallow melted before it toasted and slipped off the fork to splatter on the floor.

Spark shook his head. “You guys are a mess,” he teased.

Grisaille frowned at the splattered marshmallow and grabbed a piece of paper towel, attempting to clean the sticky mess. Once they got most of the marshmallow off the floor, they set the paper towel aside and grabbed another marshmallow, stabbing it with the fork. “I will do better this time,” they said, fire flickering in their determined eyes as they turned on the lighter. Spark gave them a thumbs up.

“Hold it closer. Just outside the flame, so it doesn’t catch fire,” he advised. Grisaille nodded and obeyed, concentrating on the slow turning of their marshmallow.

Leaning against the balcony railing, Spark stretched his arms over his head. There was a series a small cracks from his spine, and he lowered his arms. “Well, I’ll talk about it with the Professor. He has to approve payroll stuff,” he said.

Noire winced. “Ugh. I’d rather not even tell him it happened,” they said, making a face. “It’ll be awful.”

“Aw, he’s not that bad, Noire,” Spark said. “And it’ll be worse if you try to hide it. Just come clean.”

The lighter clicked off and Grisaille set it aside, smiling with triumph. Their marshmallow was toasted, though not perfectly. One side was brown and had hardened into stiff bubbles. The other was pale gold. Still, it was crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside. They set it carefully on the graham cracker and chocolate they had arranged on a plate, and used the second graham cracker to gently draw the fork out of the marshmallow and sandwich it. They set the fork next to the lighter, grabbed the plate, and stood.

Distracted from their conversation with Spark, Noire twisted around to follow Grisaille with their eyes as the child slipped through the sliding door back inside. “Where’re you going with that?” they asked.

“I am taking it to Merle. They did not have any lunch, and the Professor becomes upset when they do not eat,” Grisaille replied without pausing. They carried their offering down the hallway and poked their head into the bedroom. They could make out the lump of blankets that was Merle’s form curled on the bed in the dim room.

“Merle, are you awake?” they whispered. They had learned their lesson about surprising Merle while they were sleeping on the last day they had lived together at Professor Willow’s. They did not want to frighten their fellow clone into a fight again.

There was a rustle, and Merle fought free of their nest, the blankets tangled around their waist. “What is it?” Grisaille relaxed. Merle sounded alert and not angry, so it was probably safe to enter. They crept inside, still hovering close to the door. Just in case they had read the situation wrong and needed to escape quickly.

“I have brought you a s’more,” they said, holding up the plate. They weren’t certain that Merle could actually see it, since the curtains were drawn across the window and the only light was coming from Merle’s nightlight and the open door behind Grisaille.

“Oh.”

“You did not eat lunch, so I thought you might like this. I have noticed that you like sweet things,” Grisaille said. They shifted from foot to foot, glancing around for a place to set it down, since Merle didn’t seem interested in taking it. “I made it myself,” they added.

Merle shifted, then held out their hands. “Thank you,” they said. Grisaille brightened and handed the plate over before perching on the edge of the bed. This was perhaps a bit too bold, but Merle did not seem to mind. They were examining the s’more. “Marshmallow?” they asked.

Grisaille nodded. “Yes. It is toasted marshmallow and chocolate sandwiched between two graham crackers,” they explained. “It tastes best when it is warm.”

Merle took a bite and licked melted chocolate off their lips. They nodded, indicating that it was good. The cracker crumbling seemed to bother them, though, and they swept crumbs off the blankets. They moved the plate closer and hunched over it so that any crumbs that fell would hit the plate the next time they took a bite.

“You could come out and make one with us,” Grisaille offered, but Merle shook their head.

“No, thank you. I... am tired.” Grisaille knew that this admission of weakness was hard for Merle to make, and a sign of trust.

“May I...?” they asked, holding out a hand. Merle froze, the s’more halted halfway to their mouth. Their eyes locked on Grisaille’s, they gave a single vertical jerk of their head. Grisaille leaned forward and gently brushed their fingers against Merle’s forehead, frowning at the heat that radiated off them. They pressed their palm fully against Merle’s forehead to confirm it. Merle definitely had a fever. Merle allowed the touch, but their body was rigid and the fingers of one hand were bunched in preparation to punch Grisaille if they made any sudden movements.

Grisaille decided not to push their luck. They withdrew their hand and leaned back. “You are unwell,” they said. “You must finish your s’more and go back to sleep.” Merle bristled at the order-like tone but obeyed, polishing off the s’more in three bites. They handed the plate back to Grisaille, who stood and set it on the side table. Merle laid down, and Grisaille reached over to draw the blankets up to their chin.

“Sleep well, mon chou,” they murmured in French, testing out the pet name that Blanche and Noire used. Merle rolled over without answering, and Grisaille took the plate and left the room, closing the door behind them.

##

The next morning, Merle woke with a cough.

Noire eyed them with some concern as they spread butter on toast for Grisaille. Merle had stated that they weren’t hungry, but as they hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner yesterday (though it seemed Grisaille had been successful in getting them to eat a s’more) and Noire didn’t want them falling back into bad habits, they had insisted that they eat breakfast. What they ate wasn’t as much of a concern, so Noire had poured them a bowl of sugary cereal, which was both sweet and easy to eat. Merle didn’t seem to be enjoying it, but they were eating and that was all that mattered.

Grisaille had just finished their toast and Merle was putting their empty bowl in the sink when there was a knock at the door. “That’s probably the Professor,” Noire said. “Grisaille, is your stuff packed?”

“Yes, Noire. I made sure that Merle’s things are together as well, so that they will be ready when Sabrina comes for them,” Grisaille said. They set their plate in the sink and went to get their overnight bag.

Noire answered the door. “Hey, Professor,” they said without enthusiasm. “Grisaille’s just getting their bag.” They leaned against the door frame, blocking his entry into the house.

Professor Willow smiled at them, though he didn’t look entirely pleased. “Good morning, Noire. You didn’t answer my calls or texts,” he said.

Noire snorted. “That’s because they bordered on harassment! 30 fucking texts per day!” they griped, tossing a pigtail back over their shoulder. “It was ridiculous!”

Professor Willow winced. “Okay, I know it was a bit... excessive,” he allowed. “But I was worried, and you ignoring me didn’t help.” He frowned as Merle let out a series of harsh coughs, muffled by their hands. “Which one is that?”

“Merle,” Noire said. “They haven’t been feeling great since yesterday.”

Soft footfalls approached Noire from behind, and they twisted to watch as Grisaille sat on the floor to put on their shoes. They looked up and gave the Professor a small smile, which he returned. “Good morning, Professor,” they said. “How was your trip?”

He beamed at them. “Great! How was your weekend with Noire?”

With their shoes on, Grisaille stood and reached for their coat, which dangled from a hook by the door. “I had a good time,” they said, “even though Blanche got angry and Merle ran away.”

Professor Willow and Noire both froze. Noire had not told Grisaille not to tell the Professor about that incident, and now he was staring at them with horror. “What?” he demanded, turning to Noire. “What happened?”

Cursing inwardly, Noire shrugged and crossed their arms over their chest. “Blanche and I took the kids berry picking yesterday, at Motts’ Farm just outside the city,” they said, meeting his eyes in challenge. “Blanche was touchy and got mad at me and Merle for not filling up our baskets fast enough or something. Merle ran off, and some of Spark’s underlings brought them back.”

“I- what- How long were they missing?” Professor Willow demanded, face pale.

“About two hours,” Noire said. Beside them Grisaille was squirming, seeming to realize that they had gotten their sibling in trouble. “They didn’t get hurt.”

Something shuffled down the hallway and Merle appeared next to Noire. Noire looked down to their pale, drawn face and gently brushed their hair behind their ear. They nodded to the Professor, but made no attempt to speak.

Professor Willow managed a smile for them despite his apparent distress. “Morning, Merle. I hear you had a bit of an adventure yesterday?” he said.

Merle’s eyes dropped to the floor, and they nodded again. They were leaning on Noire a little, either for affection or to help steady them.

Professor Willow bent lower to catch their eye. “I’m glad that you weren’t hurt,” he said gently. “And I’m sorry to hear that you’re not feeling well. I hope you get better soon.”

Merle nodded again and their lips curved into something that was almost a smile. Noire patted their cheek before moving to give Grisaille a hug. “Thanks for coming over. See you soon!” They ruffled the child’s hair affectionately.

“See you soon,” the child echoed before leaving with the Professor.

##

Life continued as usual until Tuesday. Sabrina sat at the kitchen table reading reports with a cup of coffee in one hand. Merle sat across the table from her, working on a jigsaw puzzle. They seemed to find puzzles soothing, and it kept them out of her hair when she had things to do and no other easy way to entertain them. They had a steaming mug of honey lemon water next to them to soothe their sore throat. They weren’t over their cold yet, so the two of them had been taking it easy. Sabrina set her papers down and checked her watch.

“Merle,” she said. The child glanced up. They probably already knew what she was going to say since their schedule was fairly consistent, but she said the words out loud anyway. “It’s time to get ready to go to Blanche’s.”

“No, thank you,” Merle said politely. They turned their attention back to their puzzle.

Sabrina was in the middle of standing to put her empty mug in the dishwasher; at Merle’s words, she nearly dropped it. “Pardon?” she asked, certain that she had not heard correctly.

“I do not wish to go to Blanche’s today,” they said without looking up. They were busy trying to put Mr. Mime’s head together, and were missing a piece. Spotting it near her side of the table, Sabrina used her telekinesis to flick it over to them. They glanced up and inspected the piece, then put it in its proper place.

“May I ask why?” she said, this time completing her task of putting her coffee mug away. She rolled the rack back into the dishwasher and closed it, looking over her shoulder at Merle. “I thought you liked studying with Blanche.”

“I do, usually,” they said. Their cheek rested against one of their hands and their bangs fell around their face in a way that she found terribly endearing. “But we are quarreling right now.”

Ah. Noire had filled her in on the incident this weekend. They couldn’t have hid it from her however much they wanted to. She had read their guilt the second they opened the door when she went to pick up Merle. So Merle considered it a quarrel, and in their mind it was still continuing. That was interesting to know.

Sabrina sighed and dusted her hands off on her pants. “All right,” she said. It wasn’t in her nature to force the children in her care to do things at the whims of others. “I’ll call Blanche and let them know not to expect you today.”

And because she knew what to expect, she went into her bedroom to make the call. “Hello, Blanche,” she said into the stiff silence on the other end of the line. At least they had picked up. “I’m calling to let you know that Merle won’t be coming today.”

“What?” they said. She could hear the disbelief and annoyance in their tone. “Of course they’re coming.”

“No, not today,” she said, fighting the urge to sigh. She couldn’t sense them tense up from this distance, but she had raised them. She knew they were doing it.

“It’s my time with them. You don’t get to decide,” they said, tone biting.

“It’s Merle’s decision, not mine. They don’t want to come today. I’m not going to force them, Blanche.” She stood at the window staring at the tall buildings that surrounded her and the cars far below.

“They have to come. It’s my time!” She heard their voice rise, heard them fight it back. “You have to bring them, Sabrina. You owe me that much.” And they hung up on her.

Sabrina lowered the phone, rubbing her temples with her other hand. God, when had her life become so difficult? Blanche wouldn’t forgive her if she didn’t at least try to get Merle out the door.

They wouldn’t forgive her anyway, but she didn’t need fresh conflict in their relationship.

She returned to the kitchen, where Merle was still bent over their puzzle. “Merle, Blanche really wants you to come,” Sabrina said, speaking in French. She spoke to them in French about half the time, since she didn’t want them to lose their bilingualism, and French seemed to be what Merle preferred anyway. “It seems they’re really looking forward to your time together.”

Merle set down the puzzle piece they were holding and twisted in their chair to look at her. “I don’t want to see them today,” they said. Their jaw set stubbornly, and she had never seen them look so much like Noire as they did in that moment. And she could hear their thoughts, as she so rarely could, they kept their mind under such heavy guard. ‘They haven’t even apologized.’ Followed quickly by the thought that they had no right to expect an apology from an adult anyway, and then more stubbornness. Enough that it almost made her smile from the familiarity of it, but she kept her face stoic.

It wasn’t as though she cared whether they went or not, but making a concession to please Blanche would make her life easier. She went and crouched by their chair so that she was looking up at them. “I know you are still upset with them,” she said. “And that you are not feeling well. Would be willing to go if it was just for an hour instead of two? We could get crepes from that shop you like on the way.”

Merle shook their head, focusing on their puzzle with a frown on their face. Sabrina sighed and checked the time. She had ten minutes to coax, beg, or bribe them into the car, after which they would arrive late. She would give it her best shot, though she was not optimistic about her success.

##

Half an hour later, Blanche phoned. The novelty of this was tempered by the fact that Sabrina knew they were calling because she and Merle were supposed to have arrived already, and they had not.

“Hello, Blanche,” she said into the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Still trying to coax Merle into the car. They’re very determined that they don’t want to go,” she said dryly.

“It’s not that hard to get a child into a car!”

A willing child, maybe. Clearly, they had never tried to wrangle an unwilling child into a vehicle. “They’re currently crouched on top of their bookshelf, hissing at me,” Sabrina pointed out. Merle bared their teeth at her, hands braced on either side of them for balance, ready to spring if she made a move toward them. She stayed in the doorway. “Are you saying you want me to drag them down and into the car? I have no interest in forcing them, Blanche.” She particularly had no interest in losing their trust by manhandling them in that way.

Blanche made a series of indistinct grumbling sounds, then, “Fine. I will come get them.”

“Can’t you just accept that they don’t want-” Sabrina began, but Blanche hung up before she had finished the first two words. She sighed and slipped the phone into her pocket, before crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed Merle, calculating the likelihood of them knocking over the bookshelf if they jumped. “All you siblings are so stubborn,” she told them. “It’s really a problem.”

Merle’s mouth wobbled before settling into a hard line. “I am not the one causing a problem,” they told her in French, but their eyes weren’t nearly as certain as their tone.

“Oh, I agree,” she responded in kind, and saw their whole body relax. She hadn’t realized how much they were worried about her disapproval. “You are sick, and they were mean to you the last time they saw you. I wouldn’t want to go out of my way to visit them if I were you, either.” She slid down until she was sitting against the wall beside the door frame, her legs stretched out in front of her.

She switched to English. “Are you planning on staying up there until Blanche arrives?” she asked, craning her neck to look up at them.

Their eyes flashed. “Yes. They can attempt to drag me down if they wish.” A small smile played around their mouth, an unspoken challenge. “But they will not succeed.”

##

Sabrina’s buzzer went five times in succession, and she buzzed Blanche in without bothering to confirm that it was them. If it was somebody unexpected and unwanted, well, she had a gun and a taser and wasn’t afraid to use either weapon.

Several moments later, Blanche burst into the penthouse without knocking, the first time they had set foot there since their falling out with Noire all those years ago. Actually, she mused as the thought occurred to her, she had moved since then. Blanche had never been inside her new residence at all.

“Sabrina!” they yelled.

“Go through the living room and up the stairs to your left!” she called back. She didn’t get up. She had a pillow behind her back and a packet of reports in her hands as she sat on the floor of Merle’s room, and she was quite comfortable. She could hear Blanche’s heeled boots clacking through the entryway, and then muffled thumps up the carpeted stairs. Blanche stomped into the room, and stopped dead when the first thing that greeted their eyes was Merle crouched on the bookshelf, teeth bared and hair dangling in their face like a feral child.

“What are you doing?” Blanche asked. Sabrina couldn’t even be surprised that they hadn’t believed her.

“I will not go,” Merle announced, drawing both adults’ attention to them. “You cannot make me.” This was punctuated with a cough, which they covered with their elbow as Sabrina had taught them.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Blanche said, taking a couple steps into the room. “You like coming to visit me. We have fun, don’t we?” A pleading note entered their voice, and Sabrina realized that they were more hurt than angry, and she closed her eyes as the rush of their emotions washed over her. Hurt. Anger. Rejection. Insecurity. Fear. How much they needed the child to love them, even though they did not love or even really like the child yet, their emotional barriers were too great. But they weren’t the only one with those barriers, she thought, watching as Merle reached around to grab a book from the uppermost shelf. They clutched it in their hand as they shuffled further back on the bookshelf.

“Come, Merle,” Blanche said, taking another step forward. “We do not have to go to my house if you don’t want to. We can stay here.” They pointedly did not look at Sabrina as they said it.

Merle threw the book at them. Blanche crossed their forearms to protect their face and the book bounced off. “I do not want to! Why don’t you listen?” They seized another book and let it fly. Blanche sidestepped it. Their inner hurt was fully visible on their face now. But Merle’s was hidden behind a snarling mask. “I tell you I do not want something, and you come and you try to force me to do what you want. Why don’t I get to decide? Why doesn’t what I want matter?” In their outrage, they switched to their native tongue. The onslaught of books forced Blanche to back up to the doorway. Sabrina threw up a psychic bubble around herself to keep from getting caught in the crossfire.

Blanche’s eyes flashed blue and frost formed on their fingers. Then, just as quickly, the blue and the frost disappeared and they spun out of the room. Sabrina was half on her feet when the blue appeared, ready to throw herself between her charge and Articuno’s ice. She darted out of the room and watched as Blanche raced down the stairs, horrified by what they had almost done, and slammed out of Sabrina’s penthouse.

With their departure, Sabrina’s home was eerily silent except for Merle’s laboured breathing and coughing fits. A sob cut through the coughing, and Sabrina turned back to see Merle swiping at their eyes as tears rolled down their cheeks. She crossed the room cautiously, but Merle didn’t seem inclined to throw books at her. She held her hands up to them.

“Well, they’re gone. Time to come down,” she said. Still sniffling, they grabbed her hands and hopped off the bookshelf with the feline grace of a Delcatty. They stood with their arms wrapped around themself, sniffling and shivering. Their eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular, but Sabrina suspected that was to avoid looking at her.

Sensing their need, she opened her arms. “Come here,” she said. Still not looking at her, they shuffled forward and uncurled to wrap their arms around her. Their head rested on her chest, just above her heart, as she held them and stroked their hair. “It’s all right. I know it’s hard. It will be all right.”

She just hoped she was telling them the truth.

##

Blanche flopped face down on the couch in their condo. They had ripped out their hair elastic, and their hair fell in a long halo around their head. They were the picture of despair, Candela thought, though she wasn’t sure who they loathed more at the moment: Merle, Sabrina, or themself.

“Hey,” she said, perching on the edge of the couch. There was no reply. She patted their shoulder in sympathy. She wished it was Rocket that had upset them. She would have been happy to beat up their asshole twin on their behalf. But Merle? She wouldn’t fight a kid, and besides, she liked Merle. She respected their stubborn, scrappy personality, even as she wanted to gather them close and protect them from the cruelty of the world.

“I’ve got brownies,” she added. She had bought them on her way over, expecting Merle to be here. She sensed that the child didn’t like her much, and she was trying to bribe her way into their affection. Not that she thought they disliked her. It was more that the child didn’t seem to remember that she was alive unless she was physically standing next to them, and that bothered her. “Do you want any?”

“No,” they said, voice muffled.

She waited for a moment in case they changed their mind, then decided that she wanted a brownie even if they didn’t. She opened the bakery box and pulled out a fudgy brownie. Mm, it smelled divine, and tasted even better when she sank her teeth into it.

“Are you sure? They’re wonderful,” she said, patting their butt to get their attention. They grunted and tried to kick her to keep her from doing that again. Not that she was easily deterred. “Will you at least tell me what happened?” she asked. She just knew that Merle was supposed to be here but wasn’t, and that Blanche was upset about it. “Is it Sabrina?”

“No.”

Damn it, she wasn’t even sure which of her questions they were answering. Both? Neither? She crossed her legs at the ankles as she chewed another mouthful of brownie. “...Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked after a long moment.

Blanche rolled onto their back, which was small victory, but they looked like they were holding back tears. “Not unless you can make Merle stop hating me,” they said.

Candela lowered the brownie. “They don’t hate you, Blanche.”

“They threw books at me.”

“You went over there? To Sabrina’s? But you hate her!” Candela was incredulous. When Blanche had learned that Merle was being moved from Professor Willow’s to Sabrina’s, they had been livid and announced that they would never set foot there until the day they died.

Blanche nodded, staring at the ceiling. “Sabrina said they didn’t want to come, so I went there to persuade them,” they said.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

Candela put the brownie down and leaned back to look in their face as she talked. “Blanche, if they don’t want to come, then they don’t want to come. This is supposed to be a fun bonding activity, not a chore,” she said. “Besides, aren’t they sick?”

Their face closed off, which she was familiar with, but it still hurt whenever it happened. “So you think I’m wrong?” they asked, their voice taking on some of their characteristic ice.

A little, yeah, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. “I’m saying that, in Merle’s eyes, you disrespected their wishes and violated a boundary,” she said. “And Spark said that you two got in a fight on Saturday, though he didn’t know specifics. So they were already upset with you before you went over there.”

“Spark told you about that?” Blanche said, finally meeting her eyes. She gave them a suggestive smirk.

“Well, I have ways of getting information out of our Spark,” she said.

They made a face. “Fine. But how do I fix it?”

She shrugged, picking up her brownie again. “I don’t know, Blanche. You could try apologizing, but it seems like they want some space right now. Maybe give it a few days and then call them? Sabrina gave them a cell phone, right?”

“Yes, after the incident on Saturday.”

“Give me their number. I don’t have it yet.”

“No.”

“Blanche! Why not?” she whined. “I could put in a good word for you. Hey, come back here! Blanche!” The bedroom door closed behind them and she huffed, alone in the living room. Well, they had opened up to her more than she’d thought they would, but it still wasn’t enough. She eyed the box of brownies. She didn’t really want to eat these all by herself. She could, but she would make herself sick. Maybe she would go bother Spark next. He’d want a brownie. That settled, she let herself out of Blanche’s condo, locking the door behind her and leaving them to their troubles.

Chapter Text

Blanche waited three days, then tried calling Merle.

The call was rejected before it had completed the first ring.

They bit their lip, lowering the phone. They were in their office at Mystic Labs. Any minute now, Annie would show up with food and attempt to bully some lunch into them. Their chest had tightened as soon as they’d heard the ring cut off. The sound was far too familiar. It was brought back memories of years of pain and loneliness where all they’d wanted was for Noire to pick up the phone so that they could pour out their troubles and hear their twin say that everything would be okay.

Noire hadn’t answered either.

‘You can’t have expected anything different,’ a tiny, pessimistic corner of their brain whispered. It sounded an awful lot like Articuno. ‘Merle is Noire’s clone. Of course they’re like Noire. They can’t help it.’

Blanche’s hands tightened on the phone as a spear of ice lodged in their heart, robbing them of breath. They forced themself to put the phone down on the desk before they froze it or crushed it in their despair. Then they counted backwards slowly from one hundred.

The exercise worked. The frost on their hands receded. Their chest was still uncomfortably tight, but now they could think more clearly. Today was Friday. Merle would be dropped off at the Professor’s house at 3:00. They grabbed their phone and opened their calendar app. They had too many meetings today, and a press conference at 2:00 to talk about the new pokemon rehabilitation centre Team Mystic had donated a lot of money toward constructing. After that, they had to meet with Spark and Candela and key members of the Pokemon Association to hash out the rules for the tournament that would be held in three months. The three Team Leaders weren’t permitted to participate, of course, but many of their trainers would make appearances to represent their teams, so it was an ideal way to recruit new members, increase donations, and promote their respective teams to a more global audience.

Still, it meant that Blanche wouldn’t be able to see Merle in person until tomorrow, which was both a disappointment and a relief.

Annie arrived with lunch, which was a welcome distraction. Blanche set aside their phone and their thoughts with relief. They would deal with it later.

##

They stood on the Professor’s front step. They raised a hand to knock on the door, but hesitated. Despite their intention not to try to contact Merle again until they could meet in person, their self-control had crumbled and they had tried to call again that morning. There had been no answer.

Blanche hadn’t thought it could hurt worse than it had the first time, but they were wrong.

Now they were trembling, trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door. Grisaille would be happy to see them, which was a blessing. But Merle would not want them there, and they had no illusions about that. If they wanted to repair the relationship, which they very much did, they would have to knock on the door.

They squared their shoulders and knocked briskly, clenching their hands into fists while they waited to hide the fact that they shook. They could hear footsteps coming closer, and then the door opened and Professor Willow stood there.

He smiled when he saw them, and Blanche couldn’t manage a smile in return. Their stomach churned, and they wanted to turn around and go home. “Blanche! I was wondering if we’d be seeing you this weekend,” Willow said. He stepped back to let them in, and continued talking as Blanche crossed the threshold. “Sorry we don’t have long. I was going to take the kids to the Opal Art Museum. They’ve got a fossil exhibit going on for the next few months that I think they’ll be interested in.”

“That sounds interesting,” Blanche said, not registering what he was saying at all as they followed him into the main part of the house. Grisaille was seated at the kitchen table, chin resting on their hand as they tapped at their tablet. As Blanche watched, Grisaille picked up a pen and copied something into the notebook next to them. As they got closer, they realized that Grisaille was reading an electronic textbook. So they must be doing their homeschooling right now.

Grisaille looked up when they came in. They smiled at Blanche and rested their pen on their notebook, looking to Willow for permission to take a short break to greet their sibling. Professor Willow nodded, and Grisaille slid off the chair to pad over. “Good morning, Blanche,” they said, holding their arms out. Blanche pulled them into a hug before Grisaille could finish asking for one. Blanche rested their cheek against Grisaille’s hair while Grisaille’s hands patted their back.

The hug settled their churning stomach, and Blanche drew away with reluctance. Not willing to sever the contact completely, they kept their hands on Grisaille’s shoulders. Finally, they allowed themself to risk a glance into the living room. It was empty.

“Where is Merle?” they asked. They fiddled with the cuff of their sleeve as Professor Willow poked his head into the living room.

“Well, they were in the living room just a minute ago,” he said, frowning. “Did you see where they went?” he asked Grisaille.

“Merle went down the hallway, toward their room,” Grisaille replied. They perched on the edge of their chair and tapped their tablet to wake it up. “When they heard Blanche at the door,” they added, glancing at Blanche from under their bangs.

Blanche’s stomach dropped and started twisting. Professor Willow looked troubled. “Oh,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at Blanche but didn’t seem to be able to look them in the eye. “Well...”

Blanche lifted their chin, trying to display a confidence they did not feel. “If it’s all right with you, Professor, I would like to go speak with them,” they said. “I have to apologize for last weekend.”

Professor Willow nodded. “Of course, Blanche. Sabrina said they’ve had a cold all week, so be gentle with them. Being sick seems to put them on edge. They’ve already thrown a book at Grisaille.”

Blanche looked quickly at their younger sibling, who glanced up when they felt their eyes on them, tilting their head with an unspoken question in their eyes. Blanche couldn’t see any visible marks...

“Were you hurt?” they asked Grisaille. Their eyes widened, the only indicator of their surprise, and they shook their head.

“No. I blocked the encyclopedia with my arm,” they said. “So it did not hit my face.”

Merle had thrown an encyclopedia at them?

“It’s very easy to set them off right now,” Willow repeated. “So Blanche...” His voice trailed off.

Blanche nodded. “I understand.” They said. And they did. Willow was asking them to tone down their severity, which must mean that they were succeeding in hiding their distress, but were appearing colder than they intended. They would try to soften it, but it had been so long since they had tried to be soft that they weren’t certain of their success.

Without another word, they turned and went down the hallway. They stopped outside Merle’s door and knocked before they could back out. There was no answer from the other side. After a moment of hesitation, Blanche turned the knob and poked their head in.

Their gaze landed on the bed first, which was empty. The next logical place to look was the desk, which was where they found Merle. Their back was to the door, and they didn’t turn as Blanche entered the room. They appeared to be doing their math homework.

“Hello, Merle,” Blanche said softly. Merle gave no sign of having heard, and Blanche hovered just inside the door while waiting for a reply. It seemed that they would not be getting one. Blanche’s hands clenched as their anxiety tried to transform to anger in order to defend themself, but they fought it back. “I know that you do not want me to be here,” Blanche said. Staring at the back of Merle’s head made them feel worse, so they watched their hands instead. They had not ceased their movement, continuing to copy problems from their textbook as Blanche watched.

They swallowed, and tried again. “I wanted to- I am here to apologize. For last week,” they said very fast. Their hand came up to grip their opposite arm, as though that would keep them steady. “I know that my behaviour was unacceptable. I was being unreasonable, and I had no right to speak to you the way I did. And I... I am very sorry, Merle. I hope that you will forgive me.”

They chanced another look at the back of Merle’s head, but they may as well have not been in the room for all the attention Merle paid them. The despair came back, a black shadow that swirled around them and squeezed tight around their heart and lungs. It was a struggle to even get the next words out. “You are welcome to call, or to text, or to come to my house whenever,” they said. Their blood was frosting in their veins. They could feel the cold creeping from around their heart, snaking tendrils of frost out to their extremities. Their fingertips and lips went numb. “Whenever you like,” they finished.

Unable to bear it, they darted back down the hall. They almost crashed into Professor Willow as they careened into the kitchen. “Ah,” he said when he saw their face, his own tightening with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Blanche. I’m sure they’ll come around eventually.

‘That’s what you said about Noire,’ Blanche thought but did not say. “Of course, Professor,” was what they actually said. Even they were aware of how stiff their voice sounded. “I should be going. I do not wish to intrude on your outing.” They walked to the door, each movement stiff as they fought their frozen joints into motion. “Have fun, Grisaille. I will see you later.”

“Blanche-” they heard Professor Willow say, but they had already darted through the door and closed it behind them. They leaned against it for a moment, breathing hard, trying to fight Articuno’s ice back. The titan was agitated. Its instinct was to defend its bonded, but Blanche did not want the kind of protection Articuno would bring to bear against Merle.

Their phone began to ring. Blanche dug it out while still staring straight ahead, though they couldn’t see anything ahead of them. “This is Blanche,” they said, voice crisp.

“Chief!” It was Annie. Thank goodness. She would have a distraction for them.

“What is it, Annie?” they said. They pushed off the door and strode to their motorbike. If they were talking to Annie, they didn’t have to think about the sting of Merle’s rejection.

“We have a problem! One of our gyms is under attack by Team Rocket. Their goal seems to be the pokemon. They’ve also broken into the back and taken the lures stored there,” Annie said.

“I’m on my way,” Blanche said, switching to their Bluetooth as they mounted their bike. “Is Noire involved?” they asked. If it was an attack on Mystic, Noire was on the scene more often than not. They revved their bike and tore away from the curb.

“Unconfirmed, but Amelie has been spotted so it seems likely.”

“Understood. Give me the coordinates.”

##

A black unmarked van was peeling away from the curb when Blanche arrived, suggesting that they had arrived too late to prevent the theft of their Team’s pokemon. Well, they’d have to see about that. They set off in pursuit, unleashing their Gyarados into the river that ran parallel to the road. They saw the Shadow Ball too late to block or dodge. It hit them in the side, sending them and their motorcycle skidding across the concrete. Blanche flung their hands up to protect their head. The friction heated their riding suit as they slid across the pavement, and they were grateful that they were wearing it on their day off. If they had been wearing anything else, their skin would be shredded.

They rolled to a halt. They scrambled to their feet, ignoring the pain. Across the road was Noire, their Gengar at their side. In the distance, Blanche’s Gyarados realized they were no longer following and doubled back, but not before Noire sent another Shadow Ball sailing at Blanche.

Blanche flipped out of the way. The shadow ball crashed into the wall of a business behind them, sending smoke and debris into the air. Blanche’s bruised flesh protested as they rolled to their feet, but Articuno was already coming to the surface. Blanche tried to push it back, but Articuno’s grip was too strong. Their flesh numbed as the Titan took hold, diminishing the pain to a dull memory.

“Return what you have taken, abomination,” said the Titan, glaring at Noire with ice blue eyes. The moisture in the air around it began to solidify, forming sharp icicles to impale its foe.

Noire’s head tilted, a smirk on their face. “Like hell I will,” they said. They gestured in the direction the van had gone. Without direction from its trainer, the Gyarados had abandoned the chase to return to Blanche. “My men have already got what we came for and escaped. You won’t catch them.”

Articuno sent the icicles slicing through the air. Noire was too fast for it, ducking under the frozen projectiles and sending out their Tyranitar mid-roll. Articuno blocked the Tyranitar’s Chip Away with a wall of ice, which shattered when Tyranitar’s fist crashed through it. Its arm got stuck in the ice, and as it tried to free itself Articuno used Freeze Dry to turn it into a popsicle.

Articuno preened at the victory - but it had forgotten about the Gengar, which materialized behind it. Articuno turned to face it as Gengar hit it with Curse. Articuno gasped, feeling the strength seep out of its limbs. It fought to stay upright. Enraged and knowing that the attack would have weakened the Gengar as well, it caught it in a cyclone of swirling snow, watching it squirm and try to fight its way free.

Its bonded’s body was so slow. Articuno longed to use its own glorious body to finish off the abomination, but it didn’t dare. It could see the gleam of the red chain out of the corner of its eye, though the sharp points of ice it had formed on the road kept Noire away. But it knew that wouldn’t last.

Its bonded writhed inside it much the same way the Gengar fought its prison, trying to wrest control back from Articuno. ‘I will handle your blighted twin,’ Articuno told them severely. ‘Behave yourself.’ But Blanche continued to struggle, despising their lack of control and knowing Spark and Candela did not have this problem the same way.

Noire darted through the spears of ice and swung a fist at it. Articuno peppered their arm with ice needles, but could not block the punch. Noire’s fist connected with its jaw and knocked it back into the frozen Tyranitar. “You’re not as great as everyone says you are, are you, you dumb Pidgey?” Noire taunted, a manic grin stretching your face. “Even Blanche can fight better than you!”

Noire didn’t seem to notice the needles jutting from their arm. They punched Articuno in the stomach, making it choke and gasp for air. Pride and fury twisted its face into a grimace, and it raked its talons across Noire’s face with a satisfying spray of blood.

Noire yelled and their head jerked back. Lips pulled back in a snarl, they slammed their fist into the side of Articuno’s face. Articuno recognized that close-ranged fighting was not its strong point and allowed Blanche to come closer to the surface of their shared consciousness.

Blanche blocked Noire’s next blow and used Articuno’s ice to skewer them in the thigh. Noire gasped, agony flickering across their face, but their impressive pain tolerance kept them coming. They kicked out with their uninjured leg, catching Blanche in the shoulder and sending them sprawling into the sharp points of their own ice.

Blanche fought up into a sitting position, dozens of puncture wounds covering their back and arms. Their strength was draining away with every movement, an effect of Gengar’s Curse and the blood loss. In front of them, their twin’s figure wavered in their hazy vision. This needed to end, and quickly, or they would be in trouble. It was some consolation that Noire wasn’t faring much better - blood gushed from the deep wound in their thigh. Blanche spared a moment to hope that they hadn’t hit the main artery before sending more spears hurtling at their twin.

Noire dove to the side and rolled as they connected with the pavement, feeling the cold burn of ice rip a slash across the back of their jacket. Well, they had probably stalled for long enough. They tapped their Bluetooth. “Now’s good,” they said.

Blanche’s face tightened. “What are you-” they began, but they didn’t get to finish their sentence. The ground exploded underneath them. They gasped and leaped into the air, arms raised to block their face from flying chunks of concrete. A surge of power thrummed through their bones as Articuno’s wings burst from their back, ripping the back of their clothes. The powerful wings carried them up and out of harm’s way. They scanned the cloud of dust, searching for any sign of their twin. As the air cleared, they weren’t surprised to see the huge hole in the middle of the road. Noire and their pokemon had vanished.

‘Amelie,’ they thought bitterly. They knew what a Steelix tunnel looked like. They landed lightly on the ground, wings poised to thrust them upward again at any sign of danger, but everything was still. They approached the edge of the hole and stared down. Even the midday sun wasn’t strong enough to illuminate the depths. They considered pursuing their twin through the tunnel, but the risk of ambush was too great. Amelie was never careless when it came to Noire’s safety.

Even if they had been inclined to risk it, their body had other ideas. Their legs caved under them and they landed on all fours in the street, gasping for air. Their back was soaked with blood where the skin had been pierced by ice, and they may only have minutes before Gengar’s Curse sapped all their strength. “Annie,” they said into their Bluetooth. “I require your assistance.”

##

“I do not want to see them.”

Sabrina eyed the child, who was comfortably ensconced in their room at Professor Willow’s. She hadn’t been in here since that one disastrous day weeks ago, and she was pleased to see how homey it looked. Someone had supplied Merle with more books, the titles varying from non-fiction science journals to mystery novels, and someone else (she suspected Spark) had tacked up colourful posters on the white walls to make it look less like a hospital. But the huge red beanbag chair Merle was curled up in was a gift from Noire. Sabrina knew because Noire had hauled an identical one into Merle’s room at her house two days ago. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Grisaille had one that matched, though perhaps in a different colour.

“I know you’re not speaking to Blanche right now,” she said. No sign of her impatience showed on her tranquil face. She kept her red eyes fixed on Merle’s face as they frowned at her over the novel they were reading. “But they’re hurt. They and Noire are in the hospital.”

“I am ill,” Merle countered. “Ill people are not permitted to visit at the hospital. I might make them sick.”

“Merle, you're barely coughing anymore,” Sabrina sighed. “You're not contagious. You were cleared by the doctor.”

“I hate hospitals,” Merle said. They looked like they wanted to return to their book but were unwilling to break eye contact for fear of Sabrina taking that as an indicator that they had given in.

“So do Blanche and Noire. They get anxiety attacks,” Sabrina said. Her hands she kept clasped loosely behind her. She would like to sit down and make this feel less like a power struggle and more like a discussion, but she knew that Merle would take that as an indicator that she was backing down, and she couldn’t have that.

“I won’t go.”

“Blanche and Noire went to see you when you were in the hospital,” she reminded them. Something in their eyes flickered, but their mind was so heavily guarded that she couldn’t read what their thoughts might be. Still, she had a suspicion. Just another gentle push... “They endured their fear for your sake, so that you wouldn’t be alone and afraid.”

Now Merle’s eyes did dart away. She had won, but she wouldn’t reveal that she knew it yet. “I was afraid anyway,” they said quietly. “And I am always alone.”

Her brows furrowed, but before she could ask what they meant, they had stood up, shaking their hair back over their shoulders. “May I bring my book?” they asked.

“I have no problem with that,” she said.

They nodded. They still weren’t meeting their eyes. “I must find pants. I will join you shortly,” they said, turning their back on her to rummage through their dresser. Their oversize tee-shirt went to their knees and covered everything important, but Sabrina agreed that pants would be more appropriate if they were leaving the house.

She let her hands swing loose by her sides as she turned to the door. “Very well. I will wait with Professor Willow and Grisaille by the door.”

Merle made no reply as she left the room. She found Willow and Grisaille where she had left them. Grisaille stood in front of the door, facing the interior of the house. Their hands were clasped in front of them and their back was ramrod straight, like a statue in a church yard. Their eyes flicked immediately to her face when she came into view, though she knew they wouldn’t be able to read Merle’s answer there.

Willow was pacing the living room. He had tried convincing Merle to come with him to visit their siblings. He had called her when his efforts had failed. It pleased her a little to know how irritated he would be that she had succeeded where he had not.

“Merle will be along shortly,” she said in answer to the questioning looks sent her way. The expected mix of relief, jealousy, and irritation flowed from Willow, though he at least managed to smile at her. Grisaille’s posture relaxed slightly. They did not want to go to the hospital either, Sabrina knew. Hospitals brought back horrible memories for all of Cipher’s children.

Merle joined them, wearing pants and a frown. Their book was tucked under their arm. They ignored the small smile Grisaille sent their way. Grisaille, she realized, was just glad that they would not be venturing into what felt to them like hostile territory without someone to fight at their side.

“Ready?” Willow asked. “Great. Let’s go.”

##

Both children tensed as they entered the hospital and the strong smells of stale air and antiseptic hit them. Normally a child that was frightened might move closer to the adults, or slip a hand into someone else’s. Grisaille and Merle did neither. Both straightened, staring around them with watchful eyes. Any small sound put them on high alert, but they hid their trembling hands in their pockets, along with their fear. A casual observer would think they looked calm, even though they were anything but.

Willow led the way to the elevators and hit the button for the third floor. So they would be visiting Blanche first. He entered the room, giving Blanche a cheerful greeting. Grisaille followed, Merle right behind them. Merle ground to a halt in the doorway and Sabrina walked into their back before she could stop. A wave of horror broke through their mental shield and slammed into her consciousness. She looked up to see what had alarmed them, and saw Blanche.

Ah. It must have been quite the fight. Bandages twined up Blanche’s arms to disappear under the short sleeves of their plain blue hospital gown. Someone had braided their hair back, leaving the bruises on their face and their split lip bare in the harsh fluorescent light. Sabrina was certain that there were more wounds hidden beneath the hospital gown.

Blanche glanced up and spotted her in the doorway. “Why is she here?” they demanded of Willow. “I do not want her here.”

Sabrina quirked a brow. She would never allow them to see how much their rejection hurt. “Never fear. I’m not staying. I’m only here to act as backup if Merle or Grisaille get scared,” she said, tone as cool and unconcerned as she could make it. With that, the turned on her heel and left the room. She waited just to the left of the door, hearing the murmur of voices from inside the room but making no attempt to listen in on the conversations. She had been waiting only five minutes when Merle slipped out of the room and came to stand in front of her with a troubled expression.

“What is it?” she asked them after a moment of silence. They were frowning, staring ahead without seeing. They blinked when she spoke and looked up at her.

She could see them attempting to gather their thoughts, but their mind was back under its protective barrier and she didn’t dare probe it. “From what the Professor is saying,” they began, the words hesitant, “it sounds as if Noire was the one who did that to Blanche.”

There was no avoiding it. “Yes, they did,” she said, and saw them flinch.

Merle’s face went taut with distress. “But why?” they asked. They sounded genuinely bewildered. “This is not Cipher. There is no one to make them fight. Why don’t they choose not to?” They stared at the open door to Blanche’s room, though she doubted they could see much of the inside from this angle.

She didn’t know what to tell them. “This is what they choose,” she said finally. “No one else can make that choice for them.”

Merle stared at the floor for a long moment. Then their shoulders raised and fell as they drew in a slow, deep breath. “I want to see Noire now,” they said.

“You haven’t talked to Blanche.”

“That’s fine. Take me to Noire’s room, please.”

##

Noire was thrilled to see Merle in the doorway. Their room was one floor up and in a different wing from Blanche, and Sabrina rather suspected that each twin didn’t know the other was in the same hospital, and she meant to keep it that way.

“Hey, Merle!” Noire was saying. They struggled into a sitting position, beaming at their sibling. “I didn’t know you’d be coming to visit. Wish it didn’t have to be in this dump, though. You probably hate hospitals as much as I do, huh?”

Merle didn’t say a word. They stood in the doorway and examined Noire. Sabrina was sure that their eyes didn’t overlook a single detail. Not the four parallel scratches that raked across Noire’s face or the bloodstained bandage that wound around their thigh where they’d kicked off their blankets. Noire’s arms were as heavily bandaged as Blanche’s, though blood was starting to seep through theirs, suggesting deeper wounds.

Noire’s smile slipped at the solemn look on Merle’s face. “Hey, mon petit chouchou. It’s all right,” they said, their tone gentling. “I know it looks bad, but it barely even hurts, I promise. I’ll be fine in a few days. Okay?” They pulled the blanket back over them to hide the injuries on their legs, at least.

Instead of responding, Merle turned and left the room. Noire’s eyes widened with horrified shock. “Merle, wait!” they called after them, struggling to get out of the bed. “Come back!”

Sabrina pushed them back down with a firm hand. “They’re upset that you’re hurt,” she told them. “And that you were fighting with Blanche. I’ll talk to them. Stay in bed. Willow and Grisaille are supposed to be coming to see you shortly.”

“But Auntie,” they said, staring at the door where Merle had disappeared. “I wanted to see them.”

That didn’t require a response, so she didn’t give one. “I have to go after them,” she said, stepping away from the bed. “I can’t leave them unsupervised in a hospital with so many of their triggers around. I’ll be back later.”

They nodded as she left. She caught up with Merle without much difficulty. They were moving without haste, marching steadily down the hallway. They jabbed the elevator button with a finger and stared at the doors until they opened. The ride down to the ground level was silent. Merle appeared to be thinking deeply, and no less troubled than they’d been upstairs. They continued marching when the elevator doors opened, until they were standing outside on a narrow strip of grass next to the parking lot.

Finally, they drew in a deep breath, staring at the sky.

“What are you thinking about?” Sabrina finally asked, since she couldn’t find out on her own with the light touches that she was willing to risk. She rested a hand on their shoulder, a little relieved when they did not immediately shrug it off.

“I don’t like this,” Merle said with a fierceness that surprised her. She let her hand fall from their shoulder. “They are family,” Merle continued. “Families should not treat each other like that.”

“Blanche and Noire have a... fraught relationship,” Sabrina said. She wasn’t sure how to go into the years of mutual dependency and loneliness and resentment. She wasn’t sure if she should. Some things were meant for the twins alone.

Merle shook their head. “I don’t care. They shouldn’t treat each other like that. It’s unacceptable.” There was a hardness to their face that concerned her. “If that is how they treat their family, I do not want to be part of it.”

Sabrina stared at them. “Merle, you don’t mean that,” she said, voice soft in the silence.

They turned back to look at her, eyes as bright and hard as emeralds. “Yes,” they said. “I do.”

Chapter Text

There was nothing to be done other than bring Merle back to Willow’s house and wait there with them until he returned with Grisaille. She expected them to retreat to their room, but they stayed curled up on the couch with her until Willow and Grisaille came through the door. Grisaille crouched to line up their shoes neatly by the door while Willow came up to Sabrina and Merle. “What happened? I didn’t realize you two had left until I got your text, Sabrina,” he said.

She glanced down at Merle, who was curled up on their side with their head resting on her arm. Their eyes were closed, but she knew they were awake from how they’d tensed when the door opened. She rested her hand lightly on their head before speaking. “Merle found the hospital upsetting,” she said. “I thought it was best to bring them home before they were traumatized further.”

No need to mention what they’d said about Blanche and Noire and family until she was certain how serious they were. No need to tell him that it was too late; Merle had already been traumatized.

Willow frowned, staring down at Merle’s face, but didn’t try to speak to them. He must think that they were asleep. Sabrina eased out from under their head before standing. Merle didn’t move. She felt strangely cold without their warmth against her side. “I should be going,” she said, grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder. “I have a meeting later.” After all, she had as good as promised Noire that she would be back to visit with them once she had dropped Merle off. She laid a hand briefly on Grisaille’s head before she left. “Take care, all right?”

They nodded. “Yes, Sabrina.”

##

Merle curled on the couch for another hour before they got up. Professor Willow was in the middle of preparing dinner. He turned toward the fridge and spotted them hovering in the doorway. Their hair was mussed and loose around their face. Combined with the too-large shirt, it made them look extremely small and vulnerable. Maybe it had been a mistake to force them to go to the hospital. He was starting to learn their face, and he could see the tension in their jaw and around their eyes.

“Hey, Merle,” he said, deliberately keeping his voice soft and light. Unalarming. “Want to help make dinner?”

They nodded, brushing their hair back with their hands as they ventured into the kitchen. Willow offered them a hair elastic to tie their hair back so that it wouldn’t get in the food. While they pulled their hair into a ponytail, he tried to think of something for them to do. He was making soft tacos for dinner, so there wasn’t a lot of prep work. He rooted around in the fridge and pulled out a block of cheese.

“Could you grate some cheese for me, please?” he asked. Merle nodded and came to take the cheese from him. Their lips were still pressed tightly together, as though they were trying to keep disagreeable thoughts from spilling out. Willow watched them for a moment as they pulled the cheese grater from the cupboard and clumsily began to grate the cheese. Ah, he should have chosen a task that didn’t need both arms.

The silence was oppressive, and Merle showed no inclination to break it. Sabrina’s dismissive attitude discouraged him from asking the child what had happened at the hospital. He didn’t think they would tell him, anyway. But what was a safe topic?

“Did you have fun at the museum this morning?” he asked. He thought that it had been a good day. Both children had been enamored with the fossils. The biggest downside was that they had spent most of the day in completely different directions. Grisaille had gone around and quietly read all of the information cards, studying the fossils and artifacts with studious curiosity. They moved out of the way of the other museum-goers and stuck close to Willow for most of the trip. If they had a question, they asked him. If he didn’t know the answer, he asked one of the museum staff. That part of the day was nice and quiet.

On the other hand, Willow had lost track of Merle four or five times because they kept moving to different rooms without telling him where they were going. He had tried to impress on them the importance of staying with the group, but it didn’t seem to sink in. He would turn around and find them gone. At some point, Merle made the acquaintance of an older teenager. Willow found them as the boy was in the middle of a long monologue about the history of some of the fossils. Merle listened attentively to the whole fifteen minute lecture, asking questions where appropriate. Since Merle did not have the skill of pretending interest where they felt none, Willow realized that they must be enjoying themself. So, despite the stress Merle had caused Willow, they seemed to have had a good day... up until the point that they went to the hospital.

In response to his question, Merle nodded. They didn’t even turn to look at him.

That conversation starter was a flop. Willow tried again. “What was your favourite part about today?” he asked.

Merle lifted their shoulders in a shrug.

“You didn’t have a favourite part?”

Merle shook their head.

Willow could take a hint. Merle didn’t want to talk.

Grisaille was sitting at the table on the other side of the kitchen island, close enough to talk to. They never ventured into the kitchen when it was Merle’s turn to help cook. When he’d mentioned it to Sabrina, she remarked that both children were likely trying to keep from committing territory violations of the sort that had led to Merle assaulting Grisaille. He wished they wouldn’t tiptoe around each other. He wanted to see them bond.

Giving up on talking to the child who wanted nothing to do with him for the time being, he turned his attention to Grisaille.

“Grisaille, what did you like best at the museum?” he asked.

Setting down their tablet, Grisaille appeared to consider the question. “I enjoyed looking at the ammolite,” they said after a moment of thought. “It was many colours, and quite beautiful.”

Willow smiled. “It was, wasn’t it? I liked that too,” he agreed. The meat was done, so he set it aside to cool slightly while he pulled lettuce from the fridge. He rinsed it under the tap and continued to talk to Grisaille while he ripped it into small pieces to use as taco toppings. “Do you know what ammolite is made of?”

Grisaille nodded. “Yes. The card said that it was made out of fossilized Omanyte and Omastar shells,” they said.

“Have you ever seen either of those pokemon before?” Willow asked.

“Only in pictures,” Grisaille replied.

The conversation continued while Grisaille came in to gather plates and utensils to set the table. Throughout it all, Merle didn’t say a word. They didn’t eat much, either, when it was time to sit down and enjoy the meal.

“Just a couple more bites?” Willow wheedled, pushing Merle’s plate closer to them. “Please?”

“I’m not hungry,” they said in a familiar monotone that made his heart sink. No. They had been doing so well. He did not want to go back to having to beg for every bite that went into their mouth.

He took a deep breath and let it go. They were still recovering from their cold, he reasoned. Being sick tended to reduce one’s appetite. He wouldn’t worry about it unless the problem persisted, though he was definitely going to mention it to Sabrina so that she could keep an eye on it and make sure Merle didn’t lose the progress they had made.

Once the dishes were washed and dried and the leftover food was put away, Merle turned to Grisaille with a determined expression. “Would you like to do a puzzle with me?” they asked, the first time they had spoken to them since they walked in the door.

Grisaille, who was in the middle of scrubbing the table, looked surprised, but nodded. “Yes, please,” they said.

Merle smiled, which was another shock. “Wait one moment. I’ll get it from my room,” they said, and padded down the hallway.

Willow was as surprised as Grisaille was. Merle had been so sullen for the last couple hours, and now they had done a 180 and were being downright friendly to Grisaille. Not for the first time, Willow wished he had Sabrina’s ability to read minds. He would love to know what went on in that head of theirs.

Grisaille finished wiping the table and dried it with a hand towel to prepare it for doing puzzles. Merle returned with the box in their hands and placed it on the table, settling on the chair across from Grisaille. Grisaille waited patiently, hands folded on the table in front of them as they watched Merle pull the lid off the box and set it aside. Merle upended the box over the table and stacked it with the lid. Willow hovered nearby, trying to stay close enough to monitor them but far enough away to be unobtrusive.

Merle flipped pieces right-side up and began sorting them by colour while Grisaille watched, hands resting on the edge of the table. After several minutes, Merle glanced up with a frown. “I thought you were going to help?” they asked.

“I did not wish to intrude,” Grisaille murmured, fingers fluttering against the edge of the table. “I thought I would wait until you told me what you wished for me to do.”

It was obvious that Merle didn’t know how to reply to this. Their head tilted sideways and their face scrunched up with puzzlement. “I don’t understand,” they said. “Just pick some pieces and put them together. You have done puzzles before, have you not?”

Grisaille looked almost ashamed, and Willow realized that he hadn’t actually done puzzles with them before. Other than those little puzzle cubes that Spark brought as gifts for the children, there hadn’t been any puzzles in the house until Merle had started bringing jigsaw puzzles with them from Sabrina’s house. It hadn’t even occurred to Willow that this was something Grisaille might enjoy. He could have kicked himself.

Merle read Grisaille’s look, and nodded in understanding. “All right. This puzzle is not difficult. I have bigger puzzles at Sabrina’s home, and they have many more pieces. I only bring smaller puzzles here, since I have to be able to complete them in a weekend. You may start with the edge pieces so that we have a frame to work with. They are easy to find because they have at least one flat side. I will start trying to fit like colours together, and I will give you any edge pieces I find.”

After completing what was perhaps the longest speech they had ever uttered in Willow’s presence, Merle resumed sorting through the puzzle pieces, sliding all the edge pieces they found over to Grisaille’s side of the table.

Despite what Willow may have hoped, there was no further conversation after that. Merle and Grisaille worked in silence, absorbed in the task in front of them for hours. Grisaille was pleased, though. They had an odd expression on their face, like they were about to smile but hadn’t quite gotten there. Merle didn’t notice. When the doorbell rang, it jolted both of them as if from a trance.

Merle glanced from the door to Willow, face tense with apprehension, and then toward the hallway that led to their room. Their gaze returned to Willow, a silent plea. He shook his head, and their face fell. They couldn’t run into hiding every time someone came over.

He answered the door and was surprised at who he saw.

“Blanche! You’re supposed to be at the hospital,” he exclaimed.

Blanche shifted uncomfortably. They were wearing yoga pants and a blue hoodie that someone must have brought to the hospital for them to change into. Perhaps Annie. “Hello, Professor,” they said.

Willow hoped they hadn’t escaped from the hospital. It would be awkward if he had to send them back. “Are you sure you’re well enough to be moving around?” he asked.

“Articuno was uncharacteristically obliging today,” Blanche said shortly. “I’m mostly healed.” They fidgeted again, surreptitiously trying to see over his shoulder into the house.

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. Zapdos and Moltres were good at healing their bondeds, but Articuno seemed to have only a feeble grasp on how to do it. But if Blanche said they were fine...

“That’s good, then. Why don’t you come in? I’ll get some coffee started,” he said. Blanche followed him and stopped when they saw Grisaille and Merle sitting at the table. Merle was scowling down at the puzzle and slapping pieces together with a fierce determination, and refused to look up when Blanche veered off to hover nearby.

Grisaille looked them over with concern. “Have you recovered, Blanche?” they asked.

While Blanche assured Grisaille that they were quite all right, Professor Willow started the coffee. He glanced back. Blanche had slid into the chair next to Grisaille. “May I help?” they asked, gesturing to the puzzle.

“Of course,” Grisaille said instantly.

“No,” was Merle’s retort. Blanche flinched and Willow winced. The child was glaring at Blanche from beneath their bangs. Unfortunately, they continued speaking. “You are not supposed to be here. Go back to the hospital. We were having a nice time,” they said. They didn’t raise their voice, but an undercurrent of anger ran through it.

Blanche went pale and their hands clenched on the table. Grisaille was looking between the two of them, holding their breath while they waited for the fight to break out.

But Merle didn’t say anything further, and Blanche didn’t retaliate. Merle kept their focus on the puzzle and refused to look in Blanche’s direction. Willow hovered in the kitchen, trying to decide whether he should intervene.

“You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to,” Blanche said. “But I would like to help with the puzzle. Can’t I?” They reached for a puzzle piece.

Willow could see how rigid Merle’s body was from his position in the kitchen. He half expected them to leap out of their chair and run down the hall to hide in their room, but they stayed where they were. Blanche and Grisaille murmured to each other while they worked on their half of the puzzle. Merle called this puzzle “small”, but it must have 500 pieces at least. How big were the other puzzles Sabrina gave them?

Willow came over to give Blanche their mug of coffee while Grisaille told them in depth about the museum, and reiterated how much they’d liked the ammolite at the exhibit.

“And Merle liked it too, didn’t you?” they said, turning to Merle as they asked the question despite the fact that Merle had been working in stony silence for the last few minutes.

Merle’s eyes flicked upwards. Willow had a brief flash of fear that they were going to say something rude. “Yes,” Merle said shortly, and turned their attention downward.

Willow’s eyebrows raised, because that was far more civil a response than he had expected. “I see,” he murmured.

It grew dark outside. Willow made popcorn for a snack, and noted that while Blanche and Grisaille enjoyed it, Merle didn’t touch it. Another cause for concern. He sat in the chair next to them. “Aren’t you hungry, Merle?” he asked. “You barely touched your dinner.”

“I am fine, Professor,” they said, pushing up from the table. “I am going to bed. Please put the puzzle away when you are finished,” they said to Blanche and Grisaille’s startled faces.

They marched down the hallway, and Willow put his face in his hands. “That’s my fault,” he said. “They get so mad when I get on their case about food.”

“No, the fault is mine,” Blanche argued. “They’re still angry with me. They don’t want me near them, and I keep insisting.” They stopped and clenched their teeth.

Grisaille covered Blanche’s hand with their own. “Merle has been in a bad mood since we returned from the hospital,” they told Blanche. “It seemed to upset them very much. Sabrina said that they only stayed for a few minutes before they told her to bring them back here.”

Blanched turned their hand over under Grisaille’s and gave their fingers a squeeze. “Thank you,” they said. “Did the hospital not bother you?”

“It did,” Grisaille admitted, smoothing their shirt with their free hand. A sign of nerves. “But I think I am handling it well.”

Blanche offered them a smile. “Yes, I agree,” they said. They checked the time on their phone, and frowned. “I know we haven’t finished the puzzle, but it’s time for me to leave. There are reports that I promised Annie I would finish by tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. I will put the puzzle away,” Grisaille said. “May I have a hug before you go?”

Blanche opened their arms, and Grisaille leaned over into their space, wrapping their arms around them and tucking their cheek against Blanche’s collarbone for a moment. “I’m glad you are feeling better,” they murmured.

“Me too,” Blanche said through a tight throat. Today had been a roller coaster in many respects, but they were glad they had this soft note to end it on. “Sleep well, Grisaille. I’ll see you again soon.”

“Goodnight.”

Willow walked them to the door. “I hope you’re not too upset about Merle,” he said while Grisaille dismantled the puzzle in the next room and put it back in its box.

Blanche shrugged. “It can’t be helped. It’s my fault anyway,” they said. “I got too worked up about Noire and took it out on them.”

Willow leaned his arm on the doorway, letting the night air waft in through the door. It was tainted with car exhaust and other city smells, but he didn’t mind. “They’ll forgive you soon,” he said. “I’m sure of it. So don’t be a stranger, okay? You’re welcome anytime.”

“Yes, thank you, Professor. Have a good night.”

He watched them as they went down the short path and climbed into their car. They hadn’t taken their motorcycle today, so either it had gotten damaged in the fight with Noire or they weren’t as well recovered as they claimed. He raked a hand through his hair as they drove away, pulling back to close the door and lock it. He’d better get the kids tucked in. He had something fun planned for tomorrow, and they needed their rest if he wanted it to go well.

##

He knocked on Merle’s door. He had already been in to see Grisaille, and had left them curled up under their blankets with a book in their hands. Non-fiction. Both children seemed to prefer non-fiction over fiction, and he wasn’t sure how to get them interested in stories. There was nothing wrong with preferring educational material, of course, but he wanted them to develop the imagination that they hadn’t been allowed when they were with Cipher. Perhaps it was a lost cause, but Merle’s love of mysteries and detective stories gave him a small amount of hope.

“Yes?” Merle called from inside. They padded over and opened the door. “What is it, Professor?” they asked, one hand on the doorknob and the other on the frame.

They were already dressed in their pyjamas, a large grey shirt with a kissyface emoji and blue pants. Someone, Willow suspected that it was probably Noire, had trained them to put their hair into two braids for bed. When they had been living with him at first, they had always only done one. It was a bit longer now - maybe he should ask them if they wanted a haircut. He didn’t think they would ask without prompting.

Or was that Sabrina’s job now? She was their primary caretaker, after all.

He shook those thoughts out of his head. “I just came to say goodnight,” he said, smiling at them. They were staring up at him with their characteristic solemn expression, but he was relieved to see that there was none of the stiffness that they had shown to Blanche in it. Whatever their problem was, it wasn’t with him. “I also had a question, if you don’t mind me coming in?”

“Of course not,” they said, stepping aside to let him pass. “You may sit on my desk chair, if you like,” they offered after a quick glance around told them that the only other options were their bed or the red beanbag chair, which might be a bit too childish for someone of the professor’s standing.

“Thanks, I will,” Willow said, and did. He leaned forward with his wrists on his knees while Merle lowered themself carefully into the beanbag chair. They almost mimicked his posture, though they kept their knees together and laid their palms on their knees instead. Once they settled, they waited for him to speak.

“I’ve arranged with Spark for us to go have a picnic in Instinct’s Sanctuary,” he explained. “It’s quite likely that Spark will be joining us, and perhaps Go as well. I know we’ve mostly kept inside while you’ve been here, but I’m getting a little stir crazy and I think Grisaille is too. The thing is, since we’ll be outside in a pokemon sanctuary, there will be pokemon around. Will you be okay with that? Or should I make arrangements for you to spend the day somewhere else?” he asked.

Merle stared at him for long enough that Professor Willow began to seriously wonder whether they had fallen asleep with their eyes open and hadn’t heard a word he said. “I think I would be okay,” they said after that awkward silence. Ah, so they had been thinking about it. “You will be there, yes? And you won’t allow anything to happen to me?” they waited for him to nod in confirmation. “Very well. I will trust you then.” They nodded once, sharply, to back up this statement. “Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

His hesitation gave him away. Their eyes narrowed. “You want to discuss today,” they said. “I do not want to talk about it. Is that not fine?”

This put him in an uncomfortable situation. He wanted to know what had happened while he and Grisaille had been visiting with Blanche. However, they had just said that they would trust him. How could he push their boundaries after that? He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“All right,” he said, standing up. Merle looked surprised and relieved. “If you ever do want to talk about it, you know where to find me. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“Thank you, Professor. Goodnight,” Merle said.

“Goodnight, Merle.”

##

Willow groaned when his alarm went off the next morning. He wasn’t ready for this. Why had he decided that taking two pokemon-phobic children to a pokemon sanctuary was a good idea? Even with Spark and Go there, it seemed like a much worse idea in the early light of morning than it had yesterday. But maybe that was because he had to wake up early for it.

After another moment of wishing he could go back to sleep, he heaved himself out of bed and got dressed. Well, he just had to hope that everything would go well today. Merle had been in a bad mood yesterday, but Willow was optimistic that they would be feeling better after a good night’s sleep.

What should he make for breakfast? He was still concerned about how little Merle ate yesterday. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Merle liked French toast. Maybe they would eat that...

He stopped dead, staring down at his feet. Merle stared wide-eyed up at him from their hands and knees.

“...What are you doing, Merle?” he asked.

“Nothing, sir,” they squeaked. They gathered up their blanket and pillows and scuttled down the hallway. They hadn’t called him sir since the first week.

“Merle!” he called after them. They froze with their hand almost on their door handle, and didn’t turn around. “Were you sleeping outside my door?”

They shot a quick look over their shoulder before ducking into their room, but it was enough. Their cheeks were bright red from shame and embarrassment. Willow stood where he was for a moment, wondering. Had they slept in the hallway before, and gotten up before he could notice? Or was this the first time? And if this was the first time, what had provoked the behaviour?

Too many questions that he couldn’t answer without talking to the child in question. Or Sabrina, who, as always, seemed to know more than she was letting on. He would have to have a serious talk with her. He made a mental note to schedule a conversation sometime in the coming week. But not today. Today he had children to feed and a field trip to hope that they survived.

With a sigh he continued on to the kitchen. They would have a good breakfast, and then they would set out.

Chapter Text

Instinct Sanctuary was a gorgeous place whether it was your first time visiting or your hundredth, Willow thought as he drove through the gate. Visitors were allowed on designated paths only. The rest of the Sanctuary was untamed wilderness and dense forest, and completely off limits to civilians. A river wound through the middle, home to many water type pokemon. The Sanctuary was Spark’s favourite place in the world, and he defended it accordingly. Poachers were a problem, but had become less of one due to Spark’s reputation for ripping their throats out. Zapdos’ periodic patrols didn’t hurt, either.

The kids sat in the back seat. Grisaille’s backpack was on the narrow middle seat between them, but Merle had stashed theirs between their feet. Both were staring out opposite windows, awe on their faces. Trees whipped by as Willow drove up into the mountains.

Merle reached over and poked Grisaille. “A waterfall!” they said, nearly vibrating with excitement. Grisaille leaned over to see the waterfall as it whipped past. They smiled.

“Will there be a waterfall where we have our picnic?” Grisaille asked Willow. It was impossible not to smile back at them. They looked so relaxed, so happy. He was still worried about how they would handle it when they actually had to stop and get out of the car and see all the pokemon in the Sanctuary, but for now life was good.

“I don’t think exactly there, no,” Willow said. “But I’m sure Spark will show you one if you ask. He knows all the best spots.”

Grisaille sat back in their seat, satisfied. “I will ask him,” they said.

The kids continued to murmur to each other while Willow recalled the map Spark had drawn him. If he wasn’t remembering wrong, he had to turn up ahead... ah, there was the turn off. The road narrowed and roughened until Willow began to worry about the car getting stuck. But then the road opened out into a clearing ahead of them, and he could see an Instinct Jeep parked up ahead.

Relieved, he pulled up behind the Jeep and cut the engine. He looked around. The clearing was wide, with tall grass and bunches of wildflowers here and there. A river cut through the far side, with a stone beach on each bank. He could see a couple Stantler taking a drink. The pokemon froze when they saw the humans, then turned and vanished into the forest. There was no sign of Spark.

“May we get out, Professor?” Grisaille asked. Merle’s hand hovered over their seat belt buckle while they waited for his reply to Grisaille’s question.

“Yes. Don’t forget your bags,” Professor Willow said. “I’m not sure where Spark is, but he should get here soon enough.

They piled out. Both kids put their backpacks on and looked around with avid curiosity. Willow was interested to note that they stuck close together. A little uncertain of the situation, maybe. And yet each one was starting to see the other as an ally they could seek out when they needed comfort or support. Just a little, but it was a start.

Merle tapped Grisaille’s arm and pointed in the direction of the river. Willow turned as well, and saw Spark and Go emerge from the trees on the other side.

“Professor!” Spark yelled, waving with enthusiasm. “Hang on, we’ll be right over!” There was a low bridge made of rough hewn wood. It looked recent, and Spark had an axe in one hand as he sauntered across the bridge toward them.

“Hey guys! How do you like the Sanctuary so far?” he asked, giving Grisaille a noogie and Merle a grin as the latter stepped backwards, out of arm’s reach.

“It’s very green,” Grisaille said, a rare spark of enthusiasm lighting their eyes.

“It’s lovely,” Merle agreed. “I have never seen so many trees before.” Keeping a careful distance away from Spark, they spun slowly on the spot, taking it all in. The mountain peaks rose high above them, bare rock this late in the summer, but would gain a white cap of snow in a couple more months. The trees, as Merle said, were impressive. Massive trunks stretched into the sky and green leafy branches tangled together, forming a thick canopy that surrounded their small clearing.

Clouds were forming, and a light drizzle of rain began to fall. Merle froze, surprised. “It’s supposed to be sunny today,” Merle said, looking at Willow for confirmation. “I checked the weather report.”

“It’s because Spark’s happy,” he explained. “He is bonded to Zapdos, who has a strong tie to the weather. When Spark’s happy, it rains. When he’s angry, it storms.”

Merle’s lips pursed and they slanted their eyes sideways at Spark. “I see,” they said.

Meanwhile, Spark had slung an affectionate arm around Grisaille’s neck. “What’s in the bag, Gris?” he asked, walking with them to a wide, flat rock that made a drier seat than the grass. Now that Spark’s initial surge of happiness was fading, the weather began to clear up and the sun poked out again.

“I did not bring much,” Grisaille replied, sitting down when prompted and pulling their bag off their back. They held it in their lap and unzipped it to show Spark the contents. “The Professor said that you would be preparing the food for the picnic, but I brought cards, a water bottle, and some emergency supplies. The Professor says it’s important to be prepared in case I get lost.”

“The Professor’s a smart guy,” Spark agreed, settling next to them.

Go hovered awkwardly in the space between Spark and Professor Willow. “Good morning, Professor,” he said. He looked like a man who was wondering what he was doing here. His Cubone was loose, milling around his ankles, but neither child seemed to have noticed it yet...

Scratch that thought.

Merle tensed next to him. Their eyes narrowed at the pokemon, who shied back and pressed against Go’s legs at the scrutiny. Merle frowned at it for a moment longer, then the moment passed. They straightened, brushed their pigtails back, and look Go straight in the face.

“Is the food in the Jeep?” they asked.

“Ah, yeah. You wanna help me get it?” Go asked. They nodded, and trailed behind him as he went over to the Jeep and unlocked the doors. He seemed to have things well under control, so Professor Willow sat next to Spark.

“Press your fingers together like this,” Spark said, showing Grisaille how to hold the blade of grass between their fingers. Squinting in concentration, Grisaille mimicked his posture. “Great! Now blow. It should make a sound.” Spark demonstrated, and his grass made a whistling sound while Grisaille watched with interest.

Grisaille attempted it, but didn’t manage anything other than a whooshing sound. They frowned at the failure. “What did I do incorrectly?” they asked.

“You gotta hold it tighter. Make sure the grass has no slack. Try again,” Spark said. “It might take some practice... Hey, Go! Let me do that!” Spark leaped up, leaving Grisaille to practice making grass whistles, and jogged up to Go, who was wrestling with a blanket. Spark grabbed one end, and together they unfolded it and laid it neatly in a nice sunny spot where the grass was already starting to dry in the sun.

Spark and Go laid out the food while Merle sat on the rock next to Grisaille, who demonstrated what they had learned about grass whistles. By the time the food was ready, both children were able to make whistling sounds with their grass. Neither of them could carry a tune, but they were so pleased with their success that the adults tolerated the noise.

The food was amazing. Spark had made a variety of sandwiches, neatly cut into triangular quarters and artfully arranged in their container. There was sliced fruit, vegetables and dip, and potato salad. He had brought individual bottles of juice so that there were options. Spark hinted that he had made dessert as well, which would be served later, after they had gotten a chance to play and explore.

Merle tucked themself next to Go and questioned him about his work with the Go Program, what Spark was like to work with, and about the Sanctuary itself. Go’s Cubone cowered between his knees, but Merle didn’t appear to mind. They gave it a sharp look when it ventured too close in pursuit of a strawberry Go dropped, and the Cubone quailed back.

Willow sat with Spark and Grisaille, and their conversation diverted him so much that he forgot to keep an eye on what Merle ate. It wasn’t until they were packing up the leftover food to be eaten for lunch that he remembered, but Merle was already following Go to the river to wash their hands and rinse some of the dishes.

“What if I fall in?” Merle asked, keeping their arm pressed against their stomach and fumbling with the dishes one-handed to keep their cast dry. “Is the current very strong?”

“No, it’s pretty slow here,” Go assured them. “Do you swim?” He dropped into a crouch next to the water, swirling a plate.

Merle looked thoughtful. “A little bit? I haven’t had much practice. Blanche said that they would teach me once my arm is healed, but we’re not speaking currently,” they replied.

“If you want to take off your shoes and wade in, you can. I’ll make sure you’re safe,” Go said.

Merle stared at him, then at the water, considering it. They had never been in a river, and were fascinated by the shine of the water and the smooth rocks that lined the bottom. But they were wary, too. There were pokemon that lived in water, and they weren’t a strong swimmer. They had also been warned that it was bad to get their cast wet. Still, if they didn’t go far, maybe it would be all right.

They stacked the dishes they had rinsed out and set them aside, then unlaced their shoes. Grisaille approached as they were pulling their shoes and socks off.

“What are you doing?” they asked.

“Go says it’s okay for me to stand in the water,” Merle replied.

“Oh... May I come as well?”

“Yes.”

Barefoot, Grisaille waded into the river until the water coursed around their shins. They were beaming, delighted with the new experience, and motioned for Merle to follow them. Merle was hovering at the edge of the water. They bit their lip and shook their head when Grisaille beckoned them, clearly having second thoughts.

“The water is a bit cold, but the current is not fast. You will be okay,” Grisaille said. They waited a moment longer, then offered their hand for Merle to take. Merle took a deep breath, grasped Grisaille’s hand, and stepped forward into the water. The rocks beneath their feet shifted, and they wobbled as they lost their balance. Grisaille’s grip on their hand kept them from falling, and they waited while Merle righted themself. When Merle regained their balance, the children stood side-by-side, hand-in-hand, and gazed around them.

Splashing behind them made them turn. Spark had ditched his jacket and rolled up his pant legs to the calves and was wading in after them. “Mind if I join ya?” he asked. Both children shook their heads, and Spark came to a halt next to Grisaille. “Do you two know how to skip stones?” he asked. Another head shake, in duplicate. “I’ll teach ya. First, you gotta find a round, flat stone...” He bent over, rooting along the bottom of the river until he found a stone of the correct shape. He showed it to them. “See? Then you hold it like this, and flick your wrist like so...” he demonstrated. The stone flew across the water, skipping across the surface once, twice, three times before it sank with a plop.

“Please show us again,” Grisaille asked, sidling closer. “If you do not mind.”

Spark found another rock and whipped it across the surface of the water. Grisaille watched attentively. “Got it?” Spark asked, grinning down at them.

“I think so,” Grisaille said. They leaned forward, looking into the clear depths of the river. They reached into the water and produced a rock, which they showed to Spark.

“No, too round,” he said, shaking his head. He took the rock from them and threw it. It plunked heavily into the water. Grisaille’s mouth made a small o of understanding. “You want it flat, or it won’t skip,” Spark explained.

Grisaille took this advice and continued searching. Meanwhile, Merle was less eager to get wet, but they tucked their cast behind their back and bent and dug through the shallows for rocks as well. They accidentally dunked their face in the water while reaching for a stone and came up sputtering. Spark patted them on the back and they leaped away, nearly tumbling into the water. Grisaille grabbed their arm. The pair wobbled dangerously before regaining their balance.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Spark said. He offered them a smooth, flat stone by way of apology. “Here, wanna try?”

Merle was blushing, embarrassed, as Grisaille released them. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to react that way,” they said, accepting the stone. Grisaille returned to their own search, and soon surfaced with a stone of their own, water dripping from their hair.

Spark demonstrated again, and the children mimicked him. Merle’s skipped once, to their surprise, and Spark grinned at the way their face lit up. “There, you’re getting it!” Grisaille threw their stone with too much force and it landed on the opposite shore. “Ah. You’ll do better next time,” Spark said, patting their shoulder as they frowned at the spot where their stone landed.

They skipped stones for a good hour before Merle got bored and began sloshing up and down the river. Go followed at a discreet distance, keeping his promise to be nearby in case they needed help. They were getting more confident in the water. Their shorts and the bottom of their shirt were soaked, but they kept their injured arm carefully out of the water.

Suddenly Merle shrieked, leaping back onto the shore and losing their footing. They fell backward and flailed, expecting to land in water, and lay sprawled on the loose stones that made up the beach. Go dashed over to them, grabbing under their arms and hauling them up. In a panic, they twisted and climbed up Go’s body, overbalancing him and nearly sending them both tumbling.

Go managed to regain his balance and stumble to solid ground, where Spark and Grisaille waited anxiously and Willow ran up. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Go mumbled, patting their back awkwardly. It was a relief when Spark pried them off him, though Merle immediately squirmed to be put down on the ground.

“What happened? Merle?” Willow asked, clasping their shoulders and giving them a quick once-over to check for injuries. “Were you hurt?”

“Something touched my leg!” they gasped, scrubbing at their dripping face with their forearm. Grisaille hovered at their elbow, fingers fluttering in Merle’s direction, though they made no move to touch them.

“A pokemon?” Professor Willow asked, frowning at the water. Merle nodded.

Spark stood from the crouch he had dropped into when he had set Merle on the ground. “No biggie, we’ll just catch it,” he said with an easy grin. Merle and Grisaille blinked at him. Go levelled an ‘I don’t think this is a good idea’ stare at the back of Spark’s head, which the blond gave no sign of noticing.

Spark offered a hand to Merle. “C’mon, I’ll help you,” he said, which was when everyone realized that he intended for Merle to be the one to catch the pokemon.

Merle’s mouth fell open from the surprise. They glanced over their shoulder at Willow, biting their lower lip as he stepped forward with wide eyes. “Spark, I don’t think-” he began, but Spark waved a hand.

“It’s no problem. I’ll be helping. I won’t let anything happen to them,” Spark said, grinning down at Merle, who was staring at him with wide eyed panic.

“Merle, you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with this,” Willow said, still horrified.

“I think it’s important for Merle to know that they can handle pokemon, even if they encounter one while we’re not around,” Spark said, grin widening when Merle set their shoulders and placed their hand in his. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how,” he assured them, tugging them back to the edge of the water.

“I know how,” Merle murmured as their toes dipped into the water. Their face had gone still, but their grip on his hand was tight. “As a Rouge, making pokemon easier to catch is my only ability. I was made to practice.” Their fingers squeezed his, then released.

Spark’s expression flattened and his eyes flickered gold as he understood what Merle meant. Cipher had made them practice catching pokemon. He didn’t want to think about what that kind of “practice” had looked like. Or what had been done to Merle if they failed. Still, he dug in his jacket pocket and pressed three empty pokeballs into Merle’s hand. And one full one.

Merle frowned and attempted to hand that one back, but Spark shook his head. “Nah, little one, you need that. You need to weaken the pokemon first, remember?” he said.

“I never had to use a pokemon for that before,” Merle muttered in French, which of course Spark didn’t understand. But Willow did, and went pale. What had Merle done before? He almost didn’t want to know.

But Spark had his hands on Merle’s shoulders, gently turning them to face the water again. “Okay, just push that button in the middle. That’s the release,” he said.

Merle obeyed. Sassycheeks, Spark’s Raichu, popped out of the pokeball in a flash of red light. Merle shuffled away from it, and closer to Spark. “You gotta give him a command,” Spark reminded them.

Merle’s frown deepened. They stared at the water for a long moment, then pointed. “Use Quick Attack,” they said in a monotone. Definitely not what most would perceive as an order, but Sassycheeks obeyed, launching into the water. His attack knocked a Magikarp into the air. Merle’s eyes flashed magenta for an instant as they threw the pokeball. The pokeball clipped the pokemon, not a direct enough hit to have resulted in a capture. Except the Magikarp stayed in the pokeball, which Sassycheeks fished out of the water and presented to Merle with both paws.

Shaking their head, Merle flinched back, so Spark took the pokeball and tried to offer it to them. They shook their head again. “No, I can’t take that,” they said, holding their hands up and staring at Spark as if he were presenting them with a live Arbok. “I am not permitted to touch the pokeballs after capture,” they explained, seeing his confusion.

His expression cleared. “Maybe that was true before,” he said. “But it’s not like that here. You caught it, so you get to have it. C’mon, the first catch is special.”

Instead of taking it, Merle returned Sassycheeks to their pokeball and stuck it in Spark’s pocket. “I can’t. It would not be fair,” Merle said. They looked quickly around at the other people gathered around them and settled on Go. “Perhaps Go will want it?” They stared at Go with a mixture of hope and desperation. Please, their eyes seemed to say. Help me with this.

Being a good guy, Go plucked the pokeball from Spark when it looked like his leader was going to insist. “Thanks, Merle. Nobody’s ever given me a pokemon as a present before,” he said, forcing a smile for the child. “Not even when I begged for an Onix for my sixth birthday. Really!” he added when Spark looked doubtful.

Merle gave him a smile of such relief that Go was glad he had gone with it. Of course the child wasn’t ready for a pokemon of their own yet. It was too early to force it, which he would attempt to explain to his leader as soon as the child was out of earshot.

But Spark wasn’t done. “You wanna try?” he asked Grisaille. Grisaille stared at him with open-mouthed panic. Their hands twisted together and their shoulders hunched as their gaze dropped to the ground.

“If I am required to,” they whispered.

Willow placed a hand on their shoulder. “Of course not,” he said, giving Spark a warning look. “You don’t need to do anything you don’t feel ready for. I think it’s about time we have that dessert Spark promised us. I’ve certainly worked up an appetite,” he added, trying for a lighter tone.

Grisaille’s shoulders relaxed, and even Merle looked relieved. “Sure, Professor. I’ll need to get it out of the cooler in my car,” Spark agreed.

Merle and Grisaille went to put their shoes back on while Spark and Go trudged to Spark’s minivan. “Didn’t you get your Cubone for your sixth birthday?” Spark asked as Go rummaged in the backseat.

“Well, he wasn’t the Onix I asked for,” Go retorted. His Cubone, standing nearby, burst into tears, and Go shoved the cooler he’d found into Spark’s arms in order to pick up the pokemon. “I like you just the same!” he hurriedly reassured the Cubone. “Even more than an Onix! Best present ever!”

Spark sniggered and grabbed the rest of the leftover food.

##

Dessert was chocolate cupcakes with a generous amount of icing swirled on top. Everyone agreed that they were delicious. Merle ate only one, but followed it with a sandwich left over from lunch. They sat next to Grisaille, their knee brushing the other child’s while the pair murmured to each other too quietly for Willow to make out what they were saying. They both looked solemn, but not upset, so he supposed it must not be anything that alarmed them.

Grisaille ate six cupcakes, and would have eaten more if there had been any more for them to eat. They rummaged around for a napkin and offered it to Merle when they noticed them frowning at their icing-smeared fingers. Merle thanked them and wiped their hands and their mouth.

After dessert, Willow announced that it was time for them to go. He had to be home by the time Sabrina came to pick up Merle, and he didn’t want to cut it too close. He stayed long enough for him and the kids to help clean up.

“Y’know,” Spark said to Merle as they helped him load things into the back of the minivan. “I think you and Grisaille would be great additions to Team Instinct.”

Merle blinked, but Willow interrupted before they could reply. “They’re too young and too traumatized to join a team right now,” he said, frowning at his nephew.

If Spark noticed the disapproval in that look, he gave no sign as he continued to grin at Merle and Grisaille, who had come to stand behind them while waiting their turn to deposit their burden in the van. “Isn’t that what the junior program is for?” he reminded Professor Willow. “Kids as young as eleven years old can join that. We do seminars, teach about health and breeding, and a whole bunch of other cool stuff,” he told the kids. “We’re way more friendly than Mystic or Valor, though don’t tell Blanche or Candy I said so.” He winked at them.

“Spark, no. They can choose whatever Team they want, if and when they are ready to do so,” Willow said, gently herding the kids away from Spark. “But I don’t want anyone soliciting them just yet. They need to focus on recovering and adapting to society.”

Spark shrugged. “All right, Professor. But when you’re ready, remember! Instinct’s the best!” he flashed the kids a thumbs up and dove into the driver’s seat before the Professor could scold him again.

“Join with us, and you can raise your own egg!” Go added, giving the children the two remaining cookies and diving into the seat next to Spark. The van rolled down the dirt road while Willow stared after it in dismay. People were trying to recruit his charges already! He hoped Blanche and Candela weren’t trying similar tactics on the kids. He didn’t want them to become the centre of a battle for their allegiance. Shaking his head, he ushered them into the car. If he didn’t hurry, they would be late for Sabrina.

##

Willow was home in time to pass Merle off to Sabrina, but only just. She pulled in as they were piling out of the car, and Merle had to run in and get their bag and pillow. They darted back out while Willow briefed Sabrina on how the weekend had gone. She frowned when he told her about Spark “teaching” Merle how to catch pokemon, but didn’t make a comment until he pressed her for one.

“It’s probably good for them,” Sabrina said, rolling her eyes at his insistence.

“What?”

“It’s good for them to have short, non-threatening exposure to pokemon. To see that pokemon aren’t naturally monsters out to inflict as much pain on them as possible, which is what Cipher used them for. It will help them overcome their fear,” she explained. “Grisaille doesn’t seem to be quite ready for that yet, but if Merle had the option to avoid a pokemon and didn’t take it, that’s a good sign. They’ve started to get used to Noire’s Eevee, which shows that they can attain a level of comfort around pokemon they’re familiar with.”

Willow considered this. “Do you think I should start having pokemon out around my house more often? I’ve been avoiding it because of the kids, but...”

“How do you think Grisaille would react if you did?” Sabrina asked, watching Merle turn a one-handed cartwheel on the tiny front lawn while they waited for the adults to finish talking. Grisaille glanced over their shoulder at the adults to make sure that Merle wasn’t getting in trouble for doing this, then turned a perfect cartwheel after Merle, to Sabrina’s amusement. They were starting to be good for each other. Merle was bolder, and by watching what they did and did not get in trouble for, Grisaille was learning what was acceptable without having to test it for themself.

Willow winced at the question. “Okay, maybe not. I don’t think Grisaille is ready,” he agreed.

Sabrina smiled. “I’m sure they will be someday,” she said. She straightened up from where she was leaning against Willow’s car. She didn’t have to call for Merle. As soon as they saw that she was finished talking, they shook Grisaille’s hand and grabbed their bag off the sidewalk.

“Bye, Grisaille. Bye, Professor,” they said. They shook his hand too.

“See you next weekend,” Willow said, unable to help the amused smile. They’d graduated from polite nods to handshakes. Like they were business associates.

“Yeah.” They crawled into the car while Sabrina held the door open. She closed the door behind them and slid into the driver’s seat, giving him and Grisaille a quick wave before the car pulled away.

Chapter Text

Noire and Amelie were sitting outside the penthouse door when Sabrina and Merle arrived home. Sabrina raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms across her chest.

“You’re supposed to be in the Medical Bay,” she told Noire. They didn’t heal as fast as Blanche, and the tank top they wore showed off the bandages that wound up their arms. She hadn’t given the Med Bay authorization to release them, which meant they had escaped. The only question was, did she care to have the fight it was going to take to drag them back?

After a glance at her to make sure that she wasn’t going to unlock the door, Merle lifted the lanyard with their key out of the collar of their shirt and over their head and unlocked the door. They glanced at Noire as they did so, wincing at the sight of the bandages and turning away.

Noire bounced up and followed them through the open door before Sabrina could decide whether it would be more expedient to have a verbal fight or seize their arms and drag them across the floor until they made it to Rocket Headquarters and the Medical Bay. Amelie followed Noire in, and Sabrina decided to let it go for now. If Noire looked like they needed more rest and painkillers, she would make them go. She would keep an eye on them until then.

Noire and Amelie settled in the living room, rifling through DVDs while Merle went down the hallway to put their things in their room. Noire kept trying to get up to help set up the snacks, but Amelie sent them back to the couch with a steely-eyed stare.

“I didn’t send you back to Medical because you said you would rest, Boss. Sit on the couch and don’t move or I’ll change my mind,” she said. The steely look melted into a smile when Merle returned and settled on the floor next to her. “Hey, kiddo. You remember movie night?” she asked.

“Yes, Amelie,” they said, settling the skirt of the dress they had changed into primly over their knees. She held out the day’s movie selection for them to peruse while she went to make popcorn. Sabrina had disappeared somewhere, which suited her fine. She didn’t hate Executive Sabrina, but she was happier not feeling like the woman was hovering over her.

Merle made their selection and put the remaining movies away. “Which one did you pick?” Noire asked from the couch, not wanting to risk getting up to see and earning Amelie’s wrath. Merle held up the box so that Noire could read it over their shoulder. “Oh, good choice. I like that one! Hey, wanna come sit here, next to me?” They patted the cushion next to them, and frowned when Merle shook their head.

Merle plucked at the carpet and shrugged when Noire asked if they’d had a good weekend, what they had done that day, and whether they were feeling well. Amelie returned and paused at the odd tension she sensed between them. Her lone eye glanced between Noire’s puzzled face and the back of Merle’s head and stubborn set of their shoulders. She set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. At the sound, Merle finally turned.

It did not escape Amelie or Noire’s notice how Merle’s eyes avoided Noire’s as they went and sat next to Amelie on the couch, so that she was between them. “Everything okay, Merle?” Amelie asked.

“Fine,” Merle said. They smiled at Amelie, and both adults relaxed. “How has your weekend been so far?”

“Okay. Mostly work. Yours?” Amelie asked.

“It’s been okay. We went to Instinct Sanctuary today and had a picnic. I caught a Magikarp.” Merle leaned against Amelie’s arm and tucked their feet up next to them. On the other side of the couch Noire pouted, jealous, and Amelie sent them an apologetic look.

“That sounds like a fun day. Where’s your Magikarp?”

“I gave it to Go.”

That made sense. The thought of Merle keeping their own pokemon at this point was a bit out there.

To prevent further conversation, Noire started the movie. They felt petty as they did it, but Merle settled down comfortably to watch.

When the movie was finished and the snacks were packed away, Merle gave Amelie a hug goodbye. Noire hovered hopefully, but Merle didn’t even glance in their direction. Amelie tugged on Noire’s arm. “C’mon. Looks like they’re not up to it today,” she murmured in their ear.

Noire nodded and went with her reluctantly. They stole a last glance at Merle before they went through the door, but Merle had already gone.

##

Only an hour after she sent Merle to bed, there was a familiar tapping on Sabrina’s door.

Tap tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap.

Always the same pattern, always the same rhythm. “Come in, Merle,” she called. The small face framed by two braids poked in.

”Madame, may I sleep with you?” they made the familiar request.

It was earlier than she usually expected them to come to her. Normally they slept for at least a couple hours and sought her out after a nightmare. Not today, it seemed, but the anxious set of their mouth had her saying yes.

Merle had been gifted a lot of throw pillows after they explained to Professor Willow why they had suddenly started hauling a small blue pillow between her house and his. They lugged in three of them now. A brown and cream one from Noire that was obviously Eevee-inspired without actually featuring the pokemon, a bright magenta one from Blanche, and the very first basic blue one that Amelie had gotten for them.

Interesting choices, Sabrina mused as Merle arranged themself and their trio of pillows next to her. Especially interesting that they had grabbed Blanche and Noire’s gifts despite the fact that they weren’t talking to either of their siblings. Though perhaps that was precisely why Merle had chosen those particular pillows.

Sabrina sat up reading for a couple hours after Merle settled and went still. They didn’t stir when she finally leaned over and turned off the lamp by her bed, casting the room in darkness as she settled down to sleep.

##

Sabrina was woken by screaming.

She bolted upright. Next to her, Merle thrashed and screamed like someone was beating them with a crowbar. She knew better, knew that she shouldn’t touch them while they were asleep and so frightened, but she didn’t think of it. Didn’t think of anything other than the fact that her child was hurt and scared and it was her job to protect them. She grabbed them by the shoulders, and a fist to the face knocked her back. She tumbled off the bed, tasting blood, feeling the hot flood of it down her face from her nose. Probably broken, she thought, raising herself to her hands and knees and touching it gingerly. Definitely broken. But it wouldn’t be the first time a child had broken her nose while in the throes of a nightmare. Blanche and Noire had managed it once apiece before she learned to stay out of arm’s reach.

It seemed she had forgotten the lesson.

Merle was still screaming. She stood, holding the sleeve of her nightshirt to her nose. “Merle!” she called. She called their name again, louder, which had always worked to wake Noire when they were tinier than Merle was now. But Merle was still trapped in the nightmare. She caught flashes, like bullets slamming into her brain one after another. White hair. Blood. So much blood, red and thick, coating floors and walls. Dead green eyes. Blanche, crumpled and broken on the floor-

She slammed the connection down, reeling back against the wall, gasping for air. Even with the link between their minds broken, she could still see the images. Blanche and Noire, bloody, broken, dead. Hell on earth, there was no need to wonder if the visit to the hospital had triggered them. She should have never made them go, even for the sake of staying on Willow’s good side.

It cost her to leave them while they screamed, while they needed her. She ran barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen, their howls of terror chasing her. She dropped to her knees and grabbed a large mixing bowl from the cupboard. She slammed it into the sink and turned the tap on full, waiting impatiently for the bowl to fill. She lost patience when it was only half full. It was enough. It had to be enough.

She left the tap running while she ran back upstairs, sloshing water everywhere as she went. She reached the bedroom and tossed the water over Merle’s writhing form.

Their shriek was of shock and not fear this time. They launched themself off the bed, looking around wildly, and slammed to the floor in a jangle of limbs. She hit the lights as they rocketed upright again. The sudden brightness blinded them both. Sabrina blinked spots from her vision while Merle, unprepared, yipped and slapped their hands over their eyes. It was a good call on her part. Their surprise and sudden blindness were the only reason they didn’t launch themself at her. Instead they crouched on the floor, whimpering, curling in on themselves.

Sabrina knew better than to enter the room. “Merle?” she asked after a moment. French. They only responded to French when they were frightened. “Merle, can you look at me?”

Their face dragged up reluctantly. Their pupils were pinpoints, their face ashen. They jerked back when they saw her, and retreated until their back was against the wall, staring at her with horror.

Were they still asleep? “Merle, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Sabrina... M-Madame.... bleeding... Your face!” They wailed, pointing at her.

Of course. Her face and probably her chest was a bloody mess from the broken nose. Sabrina moved slowly to a kneeling position, just outside the door. Her voice was low, and she hoped soothing, when she spoke. “It’s okay. It’s just a nosebleed. I’m okay, see?” she said, holding her hands palm out for them to see.

They stared at her, sprawled against the wall with tears streaming down their cheeks. “Are you hurt?” they asked in a small voice. They didn’t seem to be able to look away from her bloody face.

“A broken nose. That’s all. I promise,” she told them. They finally looked her over, searching for more injuries. Her shirt felt wet and sticky. The blood on it couldn’t be reassuring to Merle, but they crawled toward her anyway. She kept very still as they stopped in front of her. Their hands cupped her face, gentle fingers brushing over her skin, inspecting the damage to her nose.

“Did I do that?” they asked.

“Yes, but it’s okay. I shouldn’t have touched you,” she said.

Their face tightened with regret. Their hands patted carefully around her skull, down her neck and shoulders, her back and sides, checking their palms periodically for blood. Making sure that she wasn’t lying to them and that they hadn’t hurt her badly. Their inspection continued downward, over her chest and stomach. They insisted that she shift so that they could check each leg and foot, and she let them because it seemed so important to them.

Finally satisfied that she was okay, they leaned back. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” they said, their English pronunciation shakier than usual. “I didn’t mean to. Do you need to go to the doctor?”

“It would probably be a good idea,” she admitted. She would need them to check the damage to her nose and see if it needed to be straightened out. “How’s your arm?”

Merle looked down at their cast. “It’s okay. A bit sore. But I don’t think I injured it more,” they said.

“Okay,” Sabrina said. There was no way she was bringing them to the hospital with her if it wasn’t necessary, not after what had just happened. Given their current opinion of Noire, she didn’t think they would accept her dumping them on Noire to watch them. But Amelie had tomorrow off, was spending it out of town, and had probably already left. Jessie and James were based out of Kanto right now, and there wasn’t anybody else she trusted with the child who would appreciate a call from her in the middle of the night.

Well, other than Willow, but she was reluctant to call him for something like this. Noire it was, then.

They agreed to come immediately, and appeared at the door so quickly afterward that she was certain that they had sped the entire way. Their eyes bugged out when they saw her. “Auntie, your face!” they exclaimed.

“I told you what happened,” she said, the late hour and the pain that still throbbed in her face despite the two painkillers she’d swallowed making her irritable. “I need you to keep an eye on Merle while I go get it looked at. I hope they’ll go back to sleep, but stay close to them.”

She poked at her nose, hoping it wasn’t as bad as Noire and Merle’s expressions told her, and winced. Noire helped by getting her coat and draping it over her shoulders, and fetched her purse while she fought her arms through the sleeves.

She heard the rushing water in the kitchen turn off, and Merle slunk down the hallway toward her. Their eyes flicked over Noire with an expression of distaste, but they appeared to accept that they had to tolerate Noire as a natural consequence for injuring her.

A light touch on their elbow got their attention, and they gazed up at her with eyes still full of guilt. “I’ll see you in the morning. Be good for Noire, and try to get some sleep,” she told them.

“I will try,” Merle replied, though they looked doubtful. They stood there, quiet and forlorn, even after she disappeared through the door.

##

Merle was quietly furious to be left alone with Noire, but their guilt meant that they let Sabrina leave for the hospital without resistance. They refused to sleep in Sabrina’s bed with Noire. They snatched their pillows and returned to their own bed when Noire suggested it, closing the bedroom door behind them with a decisive click. They knew Noire was standing on the other side, as shocked and hurt by their behaviour as they had been that afternoon, but they didn’t care. They didn’t, they insisted to themself as they shoved that little nugget of guilt into the corner of their mind where they kept all the other unpleasant things they didn’t want to think about. The things that always got bigger when they were alone in the dark.

Not dark, they thought. They had their little light with them. The little light that Amelie, not Noire, had gotten them. That helped assuage the guilt, that the little light had been provided by Amelie rather than the sibling they were currently shunning. As long as they didn’t think of the nights that Noire had curled in the bed with them, a protective presence against nightmares, they could keep the guilt at bay.

They made a face and flopped facedown on the bed, burying their face in the pillow Noire had given them. Now they were thinking about it. This was the worst, they thought, along with some choice words they had learned from Étoile and had been forbidden to use until they were twenty at least. But it wasn’t their fault! Blanche and Noire had behaved badly first! How could they hurt each other like that? Put each other in the hospital? They didn’t understand it.

Lying on their stomach was uncomfortable, so they rolled onto their back, frowning at the glow in the dark stars and moons that Blanche had gotten for them, for no other reason than they thought that Merle would like them. Noire had helped stick them to the ceiling, though Merle hadn’t told them who gave them the stars and moons. Ugh. They rolled back onto their stomach.

Better to think about Sabrina, they decided. Madame Sabrina, who had been kind and did not deserve the fist she had gotten to the face. Her poor nose. Merle knew how strong a punch they were capable of delivering, and they hoped they hadn’t used their full strength, or Sabrina would have two black eyes by the time she arrived at the hospital. That tended to happen when a nose was broken. They hoped she got there okay. It would have been better her to get someone to drive her there, or take a taxi.

They rolled again. Their stomach was all in knots. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the blood. Don’t think about how easy it was for people to die, and be gone from your life forever.

Mouth dry, they wiggled under the blankets, wrapped themself up in a tight burrito. Morning would come soon, they thought, holding the cloth to their eyes to block the world. They just had to wait. When morning came, they wouldn’t have to think about these things anymore.

And so they waited.

##

The kid looked like hell the next morning. The dark circles under their eyes and the glazed look on their face told Noire that Merle hadn’t slept at all after Sabrina left. They were dressed, their hair freshly brushed, but they didn’t look as put together as they usually did in the morning. The kid wasn’t used to sleep deprivation anymore, so it was hitting them harder than it used to.

Noire puttered around the kitchen making pancakes that they hoped Merle would eat. They weren’t a fucking moron. They knew the kid was pissed at them, and had been since Saturday. Probably because they had put Blanche in the hospital. But Blanche had put them in the hospital, too! And anyway, it was Noire’s job to steal shit from Mystic and the other teams, and whoever the hell else they were ordered to steal shit from. That was business. If they got some personal satisfaction out of beating Blanche bloody, well, that was only a side benefit of their actual job.

None of which their younger sibling understood, of course, but how were they supposed to explain years of hurt feelings and mutual resentment? How were they supposed to make up?

“Here, eat up,” Noire said, slapping a plate of pancakes in front of the kid. Merle startled upright at the noise, blinking rapidly. Had they dozed off at the table? Noire shoved the plate closer. “It’ll help you feel better. You want butter and syrup?”

Merle nodded, avoiding their gaze and fiddling with their fork. Noire grabbed the butter and syrup out of the fridge and put it on the table, letting Merle sort out what they wanted on their pancakes while they made a plate for themself and slathered their pancakes with butter and syrup. Would be nice to have whipped cream, but that was too much effort this early in the morning.

At least Merle was eating. Slowly and without focus, but food was making it into their mouth and down their throat, which was good enough for Noire. The pancakes weren’t as good as a certain blond could make ‘em, but Noire thought they weren’t half bad.

“Did-” Merle began, then seemed to remember that they weren’t speaking to them, and closed their mouth.

“What?” Noire asked, leaning an elbow on the table. They shovelled another mouthful of pancake into their mouth and kept their eyes on Merle’s face despite the child’s refusal to look at them.

Merle deliberated, then gave in. “Did Sabrina come back yet?” they asked, poking their pancake with their fork. Guilt was written all over their face. Noire reached over and patted their cheek, but Merle brushed their hand away.

Hurt, Noire leaned back. “Yeah, a couple hours ago,” they said, hand clenching on their fork. “She’s in her room, sleeping.” Noire had slept on the couch and wouldn’t have heard her creep by if they hadn’t been awake and brooding about why Merle was mad at them.

“I did not hear her come in,” Merle said. They cut off another neat bite of pancake and chewed it. Noire waited for them to say something else, but they didn’t. They sat in uneasy silence until Sabrina appeared.

She noted their tense faces and the hurt in Noire’s eyes and heaved a mental sigh. It appeared things hadn’t changed in her absence. She grabbed a plate and helped herself to some pancakes that Noire had left on a plate next to the stove. The damage to her face wasn’t as bad as Merle had feared - only one of her eyes was blackened, and her nose hadn’t been badly broken. Still, their stomach flopped when they saw what they had done. What little appetite they had vanished competently, and they stared at the rivulets of syrup decorating their plate.

Sabrina settled at the table and spread butter on her pancakes, waving off Merle’s attempt to pass her the syrup. “How did you sleep?” she asked them, though she could read the answer in the shadows under their eyes.

At least they were honest with her. “I didn’t,” they replied. They cut their remaining pancake into tiny pieces. Sabrina suspected that they were just killing time and had no intention of actually eating the pancake that they were demolishing.

“You know Noire would have kept you company,” she told them, glancing across the table at Noire, who was staring at the uneaten pancake left on their plate and tapping their fork against the edge.

“I did not want them to,” Merle said flatly.

Noire pushed up from the table. “I gotta go, Auntie. I’ve got an early meeting,” they said. They left their uneaten food behind and marched down the hall for their shoes. Sabrina stood and watched them go.

“Thank you for your help, Noire, it’s much appreciated,” she called after them, but got no response other than the front door slamming behind them as they left. She sighed and sank back into her chair, giving Merle a look of disapproval. “You’re hurting their feelings, you know,” she said. Noire had left a carton of apple juice on the table but had neglected to pour it into glasses, so Sabrina did, setting one in front of Merle.

Merle frowned at their plate and shrugged. Sabrina placed a finger under their chin and tilted their face up so that they were forced to meet her eyes. “You are being childish,” she informed them. “If you have a problem with your older siblings, you need to speak to them directly and tell them what’s bothering you. Otherwise you could damage your relationship with them beyond repair.” She didn’t want to watch that happen again, though there was very little she could do if that was the path Merle decided to take.

Because she made them look her in the eyes, they did. “I don’t care,” they said. “I don’t need them.” They pulled her hand away and picked up their juice, knowing that she would not allow them to leave the table until they drank it.

“What do you need, Merle?” she asked.

Merle drained their juice, stacked the glass on their plate, and stood. “What I cannot have,” they said. They turned their back on her to rinse their dishes and load the dishwasher, then returned to their room to get ready for their tutor.

##

While Merle was with their tutor, Sabrina sat in her office going over the reports that had come in over the weekend. Most of it was interminably dull, but easily handled remotely. The reports from a certain undercover unit stationed in the mountainous region of Orre reported suspicious activity that made her frown. Ever since they had recovered Noire and Blanche, she and Willow had pooled resources to monitor areas around Orre where they suspected Cipher had labs. They rarely found anything. Cipher was good at covering their tracks and making their abominable research facilities look like something else, something harmless, on the surface. The facility that held the twins had had a makeup testing facility on the surface level. A facility with a suspicious amount of security and horrific secrets on the levels that were below ground.

When they did confirm a lab, they raided it, rescuing the experiments and executing or imprisoning those Cipher agents who did not escape. Grisaille was recovered through one such raid. But however satisfying it was putting an end to to the obscenities Cipher committed in the name of science and selfishness, it was like severing the heads of a hydra. No matter how many facilities they shut down, there always seemed to be more.

And it sounded like her unit had found another such facility. As per their agreement, she forwarded the information to Willow, redacting Rocket information that she didn’t want him to know. Let him puzzle over that, see if he came to the same conclusion she did. She picked up her mug of coffee, long gone cold, and sipped from it anyway. Someday, someway, they had to put an end to Cipher. But how were they ever going to accomplish that?

Chapter Text

Life had to go on despite nightmares, sibling quarrels, broken noses, and the impending possibility of discoveries that ought to exist only in nightmares. Merle tried to use Sabrina’s broken nose as an excuse that they should curl up and watch movies together so she could rest, instead of attending the very important appointment scheduled for that afternoon.

It was time for Merle to get their cast removed.

The timing couldn’t be worse. Sabrina did not want to take them back to a hospital so soon after their last visit had traumatized them, but there was no other option. She couldn’t leave their cast on indefinitely because it was inconvenient for her to have it taken off at the moment. When she had booked the appointment she had assumed that she would be able to call on someone else to help tag-team Merle and keep them feeling safe and comfortable, but her usual choices were out. Merle would not welcome Blanche and Noire’s presence, Grisaille was likely to find the entire experience traumatizing, Amelie was enjoying her day off on one of the smaller islands that bordered the coast of Opal, and even Mike and Lief had finally succumbed to the horrible stomach bug working its way through Rocket HQ. Even Willow, the busy bastard, was locked in an all-day conference and had been forced to leave Grisaille’s care to Blanche for the day.

With her options so severely limited, there was only one person she knew who might be a comforting presence for the child, wouldn’t mind doing a favour for a Rocket Executive, and who she actually knew how to contact.

Not that she didn’t feel strange sitting next to Spark in the hospital waiting room, but at least he was doing his job by entertaining Merle.

“But aren’t you excited to be getting your cast off?” Spark asked. “You’ll finally be able use your whole arm!” There was a shoelace tied into a loop wound around his fingers. Merle had unthreaded it from his shoe when they had suggested playing cat’s cradle while they waited for their turn with the doctor.

After great deliberation, Merle’s small fingers threaded through the shoelace, plucking and twisting until they had taken it from Spark. Triumphant, they held it up for Sabrina to see.

“Lumiose City tower?” she asked, recognizing the shape from one of her regrettably few visits to Kalos.

“Yes!” they said. They held their bound fingers out, waiting for Spark to make his selections. He stuck his tongue between his teeth as he did so, a concentration tactic that Sabrina had never understood no matter how many people she saw do it.

Spark was abysmal at this game. He ended up frowning down at the tangled shoelace on his fingers while Merle giggled, a rare enough occurrence that it made Spark grin. They took the shoelace back from him and their fingers whipped it into the shape of a bridge. When they showed it to Spark, their expression was almost gloating.

“Hey, you’re good at this!” Spark said. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

Merle’s small smirk vanished. Spark waited, the benign smile on his face suggesting that he would wait as long as necessary. Merle caved before then. “I will be happy to have the cast off,” they admitted. “It’s hard to play cat’s cradle with it on. But I would rather skip to the part where it’s off rather than undergo the process.”

Spark laughed, causing Merle to frown at him. “Fair enough!” he said.

A nurse poked her head through a door at the far end of the waiting room. “Merle?” she called, looking expectantly at the waiting faces, searching for the one that reacted.

Merle paled and the shoelace dropped from their limp fingers. Spark stooped to pick it up and tucked it into his pocket. One of his hands came down to curl around their good hand. “It’ll be okay. Me’n Sabrina are with you, hey? You’ll be fine.” The smile he gave them was soft and reassuring, but Merle didn’t return it, only nodded silently. When Spark tugged them along, they followed, but only after glancing behind them to make sure Sabrina was coming.

The nurse led them down sterile white hallways at a brisk clip. Spark’s laceless shoe was too loose, making his gait uneven, and Merle was in no hurry, so they lagged behind. The nurse waited by a door for them to catch up, and gestured them in. “The doctor will be with you shortly. If you could have a seat over here,” she gestured for Merle to take a seat on the examination table.

Mute and obedient, Merle sat with their hands clasped in their lap. They stared fixedly at the wall while the nurse checked their arm, murmured to Sabrina, and left the room to get the doctor. Spark smiled at Merle encouragingly, but Merle’s eyes did not move from a spot on the wall.

The doctor came in and nodded to Sabrina and Spark. Sabrina only half paid attention as the doctor introduced herself and explained the procedure. Merle nodded to indicate that they understood. The doctor had been briefed on the situation, and so didn’t comment on their lack of eye contact.

“Now, lie down and hold still so that I can cut the cast off. This will be quick. You might feel a little tickle, but it shouldn’t hurt. If it does hurt, let me know right away, okay?” the doctor said.

Merle nodded, lowering themself back onto the examination table until they lay as straight and stiff as a corpse in the morgue. The doctor bustled at the counter that ran the far length of the room, and came back with a small saw. Merle’s eyes widened fractionally at the sight of it, and Spark patted their arm soothingly.

“It’s okay, buddy. It’s not a sharp saw. It just vibrates back and forth, okay?” he crooned, using the voice he used on hurt and frightened pokemon.

This assurance didn’t seem to comfort them, but Merle nodded, their eyes flicking to his and holding there without blinking. If this unnerved Spark, it didn’t show. He just smiled and held their hand, which hung limp and clammy in his.

Merle flinched when the saw started up, but didn’t move away when the doctor gripped their arm and cut through the fiberglass.

Sabrina reached out to touch Merle’s other arm to offer them some comfort. Tremors ran up the muscle. Their whole body was shaking, but they were brave and did not complain.

Luckily the process was fast. The doctor efficiently sliced through the cast on both sides and popped it off. Then she gently unwound the soft cotton lining from around their arm.

“You can sit up now,” she said, smiling at Merle before turning to dispose of the cast and lining in an industrial-sized garbage can.

Merle did, though Sabrina noted that they were careful not to put their weight on their weaker arm.

Once upright, Merle examined their arm with a critical eye. The skin that had been under the cast was paler and covered in dead skin that flaked off when Merle, frowning, rubbed at it.

Sabrina laid a gentle hand on their arm to stop them. “Don’t. You can wash it off in the bath,” she told them.

With the cast discarded, the doctor turned back to Merle. “You’ve probably noticed that you’ve lost some muscle in your arm,” she said. “It should return to normal in a few weeks, but to help it along, I”m going to teach you some exercises to strengthen your arm. Now, hold your hand like this...”

The doctor ran through the required exercises slowly and patiently, making sure that both Merle and Sabrina knew how each one was supposed to be performed.

“Great,” she said once she was finished. She was still smiling, not at all fazed by Merle’s surly expression and refusal to speak. “Do those every day, but take it slow at first. Your arm needs time to get used to moving those muscles again. Do you have any questions?”

Sabrina didn’t expect them to, so she was surprised when Merle spoke up. “Am I able to swim now?” they asked in a whisper, not meeting the doctor’s eyes. Instead they were staring at Spark’s hand, which was still wrapped protectively around theirs.

“Oh, yes. Before you couldn’t because your cast couldn’t get wet, but it’s fine now that it’s off. I would recommend waiting until your arm is stronger, though, so that you don’t injure it.”

Merle had no more questions. The doctor left, and Sabrina ushered Spark and Merle from the room with visible relief.

“Hang on, just let me lace my shoe,” Spark protested, raising his hands to ward her off. Sabrina waited impatiently while he leaned against the wall for balance and pulled his shoe off, threading the laces through. She wanted to get Merle out of there as soon as possible. They were bouncing on the balls of their feet, glancing between Spark and the path to the exit with visible anxiety. When Spark was ready, Merle darted ahead and Spark walked quickly to catch up.

Once they were outside and halfway across the parking lot, Sabrina turned to Spark. “Thank you for coming and keeping Merle calm during the procedure,” she said formally. She hitched the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. She wanted to send him away now that his role was finished and she had no further use for him, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to stay on his good side, at least for now. With Merle on the outs with both of their older siblings, she suspected that she would need another favour from him sooner rather than later. And she hated owing people.

“I promised Merle we could go to a movie after the appointment,” she told spark. Raising Blanche and Noire had taught her that sometimes bribery was the only viable option, though with them she’d most often used pastries and candy. Merle wasn’t motivated by food, but they liked experiences. Promising them a movie was the only way she’d gotten them into the car. “You can come along, if you aren’t busy and would like to spend more time with Merle,” she offered.

Spark’s face split into a grin. “I’d love to!” he said. He bent down to Merle’s level and waited for them to meet his eyes. “You wouldn’t mind that, would you, Merle? Can I tag along?” he asked with such sincerity that Merle almost smiled.

“I do not mind,” they murmured. “If you would like to come, you may.”

“Thanks, buddy. I know it’ll be a blast.”

##

The movie was fun, Sabrina supposed. She spent it answering work emails on her phone while Spark and Merle whispered to each other about the movie. Between the three of them, she was sure they’d managed to annoy everyone sitting nearby.

They got some dark looks as they left, which they ignored. Spark insisted on going for ice cream and Sabrina relented, though she got the feeling that Merle wouldn’t eat theirs. They hadn’t touched the candy she bought them at the theatre.

She was right. Spark had to order for Merle because they refused to pick something. The three of them settled at a table by the window, and Merle glared at their chocolate sundae. Their glare transferred to Sabrina when she told them that they had to eat at least half.

“But why?” they demanded. “Ice cream has little nutritional value. I should not have to eat it.”

“But it has calories, and you aren’t getting enough of those,” Sabrina said. It was a sore spot for her that they still hadn’t gained much weight. “Now eat.”

They ate, but only because Spark fed them with a spoon. And likely because it was Spark doing the feeding. Merle seemed to like him fine, but they were also intimidated by him in a way that they weren’t of the others, and she didn’t know why.

After ice cream, Spark had to go. He bent to offer Merle a hug, but they shook their head and stuck their hand out for a handshake instead.

“Thanks for letting me come with you on your big day,” Spark told them, his large hand dwarfing theirs as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I had a lot of fun.”

Merle didn’t seem to know what to say and glanced up at Sabrina, so she spoke instead. “Thank you for coming, Spark,” she said. “I know you’re busy, and I appreciate you taking the time to help keep Merle calm and comfortable during a stressful time.”

“No problem! I’ll see you guys around,” Spark said. They watched him go until he disappeared into the crowd.

##

More nightmares that night meant that Sabrina got very little sleep - little enough that she thought she might snap the next Rocket Grunt who commented on the bags under her eyes (or her black eye) in half. Willow texted her to request a meeting sometime during the week. She suggested Wednesday, and set the phone aside while she waited for his reply. She was behind on work, as she always seemed to be lately. She tried to remember if Blanche and Noire had taken up so much of her time and energy when they first came into her care, but it was too long ago and she couldn’t remember. Maybe she was just getting old.

Willow replied to her text just before she left the office. Wednesday was good for him. She entered the appointment into her phone. Arceus knew she would forget about it if she didn’t. Her eyes were dry and aching from exhaustion. Poor Merle hadn’t even tried to sleep. Instead they had huddled next to her, cocooned in blankets with their face pressed into her side, shaking from stress and nausea. She wished they would talk to her. She wished their mental blocks weren’t so solid. She wanted some way to know what was wrong and what they needed. Something actionable that she could do something about. Something that wasn’t just rubbing their back and making soothing noises.

”It’s all right. You’re all right. You’re safe here. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you.”

She knew, all too well, that words were empty things for people like Merle. Actions spoke much louder.

She shouldered her front door open, and was greeted by near-silent feet pattering down the hall. Merle appeared, wearing a large sweatshirt with a Hoothoot on the front and an anxious expression. They barreled into her, knocking the wind out of her as her back hit the door. Their small fingers dug into the material of her jacket, trembling.

“Merle?” Sabrina asked, astonished. This was a new behaviour. “What’s the matter?”

Alexa, their tutor, had come rushing down the hall after Merle, looking baffled. “I’m sorry, Executive Sabrina. They were fine just a moment ago, and then they heard you come through the door...”

Dammit. “It’s fine, Alexa. You’re welcome to go. You can email me your report,” Sabrina said briskly, prying Merle off her enough that she could move away from the door. They clung to her side, unbalancing her while she kicked off her heels and dragged them down the hallway. She was dimly aware as Alexa gathered her things and slipped out the door, but hauling Merle to the couch took most of her awareness and energy.

Merle immediately crawled onto her lap, something they were really too big for, but she allowed it. She let them have five minutes curled around her, their face pressed into her collarbone, before she put her hands on their shoulders and pushed. They resisted, and they were strong, their muscles like steel cords under soft, childish skin. She managed to push them back far enough to see their face.

They were pale, their eyes darting around without fixing on any one thing. Their skin was clammy, and they were hyperventilating.

“Merle, you’re having a panic attack,” Sabrina told them in her firmest voice. She knew they wouldn’t have a name for what they were experiencing. “I need you to take a deep breath. Can you hear me? Breathe with me.” She drew a breath in slowly, watching their face. Their eyes had flicked toward her when she spoke, but now they were darting around the room again.

“Merle, look at me. Where are my eyes?” It took them a minute. She waited while their eyes found hers. “We’re going to breathe in to the count of ten. Do you understand?” Their face was blank. She had no idea if they actually understood or not, but they were still looking her in the eyes. She had to assume she had their attention.

On the inhale, she whispered, “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix...”

Merle got to three before their breath whooshed out again in little pants. She squeezed their biceps reassuringly. “Okay, good. We’re going to breathe out now. Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix...”

Over and over and over, she counted. It was half an hour before their voice joined hers. “U-un... deux... tr... trois...” Stop. They restarted when she did, their voice trembling and breathless.

Finally, they managed to make it to ten. The breathing exercises were starting to make Sabrina light-headed, but she didn’t dare stop. Merle steadied, some color coming back into their face, though their hands on her shoulders still shook. When Sabrina thought they were steady enough, she pushed their hair back from their sweaty face.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” she asked. She ran her hands up and down their back to comfort them, and they took that as permission to lean in again, pressing their sticky cheek against her neck.

She didn’t really expect an answer, but to her surprise she got one. “I thought you wouldn’t come home,” they whispered in her ear.

“I’ve always come home before,” she said.

They drew in a shuddering breath. “I know, but what if this time you didn’t? I thought that, and I got scared.” For a moment they focused on breathing, and she waited. “I worked hard on my studies, though. I did not want to disappoint you.”

“I’m not disappointed,” Sabrina said, switching back to English. Part of her was amazed that they’d forced themself to power through the entire day when they must have felt like this inside, sweating, shaking, and full of bone-deep terror. But part of her also knew that they must have thought they had no choice. “I’ll always come home, though. You don’t need to be scared.”

“You can’t promise that,” they said. Despite her switch, they continued speaking in French. “Bad things happen all the time, and nobody can stop them or control them. You could be in a car accident, or hit by lightning, or eaten by an Arcanine-”

“I’m not likely to be eaten by an Arcanine.”

“You could be. It’s happened to people,” they said stubbornly, leaning back and brushing their hair out of their face again. Their face was still pale, but they were starting to look more like themself.

She could have argued that she wasn’t around Arcanine enough for that to be of real concern, but she understood that wasn’t the problem. It was a generalized anxiety, not a specific one. Unless it was specifically separation anxiety, in which case, what the hell would she do about that? Would it be better to go on as she had, going to work and coming home at a set time, so that they would eventually learn that she would come back? Or should she bring them with her? She didn’t know the right answer, but she knew she would prefer not to bring them to Rocket Headquarters with her every day. There was so much there that wasn’t appropriate for a child to be exposed to.

“Would you like to help me cook dinner, or should we order in today?” she asked, changing the subject. She had been planning on doing the latter since she had no energy to cook, but Merle took comfort in everyday, normal tasks.

“I will help cook,” Merle said, and slid from her lap to the floor. They smoothed their shorts, then scrubbed at their face with their sleeve.

“Go wash your hands and face, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” Sabrina said, standing up and stretching to get the kinks out of her back.

##

They made stir fry. It was one of Merle’s favourite things to cook because there was a lot of things to chop, but that didn’t mean they cared to eat it. After finally giving up, Sabrina sent them to get washed up and do their exercises for their arm. Shortly after they departed, her phone rang. After checking who was calling, she answered it with caution.

“Hello, Blanche,” she said.

“Hello, Sabrina,” they replied. There was an awkward pause, which Sabrina waited out. She heard Blanche take a deep breath. “I assume that Merle isn’t coming today?”

“I assumed not,” she said, glancing into the hall to make sure that Merle wasn’t on their way back. The bathroom door was still closed, the light shining under it.

“I see. Then, I thought maybe- would they like to go to Candela’s house instead?” they said in a rush. “She has been complaining constantly that she does not get to spend enough time with them. I thought, if they still do not want to spend time with me, perhaps they would like to visit her instead?”

Sabrina’s eyebrows shot up. That was not what she had expected them to say. “I don’t think that Candela would want me showing up at her home, even if it were to drop Merle off,” she said. She didn’t want the Valor leader knowing where she lived, either. The girl would burn her house down, she was sure.

“Candela said she would be willing to make the exchange in the parking lot at the train station,” Blanche said. “Talk to Merle and let me know.” They hung up without another word.

Sabrina lowered the phone and turned to find Merle lurking in the doorway, watching her. “How much of that did you hear?” she asked.

They shook their head. Not much, she assumed. “Blanche knows that you don’t want to visit with them today, so they’ve arranged for you to spend time with Candela, if you want to,” she told them. She thought of their earlier panic attack, and added, “It’s all right if you don’t want to. You can stay here.”

Merle hesitated. “Could you come with me?”

Sabrina thought of Candela and her obvious hatred of her and Noire. “I don’t think that would be wise,” she said.

“Then, could she come here?”

An even worse idea, which Merle must have seen on her face, because they deflated. “I am willing to go,” they said, though she could sense their reluctance. “But...”

They didn’t want to be separated. Sabrina pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tell you what,” she said, “you’ll have your phone on you. If you get scared or anxious again, you can give me a call or a text and know that I’m all right. If you need me to come get you, I’ll come get you right away.”

They stared at her with big eyes. “Okay,” they whispered.

##

In the end, the transaction was not dissimilar to dropping Merle off at Blanche’s house. Sabrina parked across the aisle from Candela’s candy apple red sports car, leaned across the seat to kiss Merle’s forehead and reassure them once more that she would come get them, and stayed where she was while they opened the door and dashed across the parking lot to Candela.

Candela popped out of the car and held her hands out to hold Merle’s. “Hey, darling! Look at you! Does it feel nice to have your cast off?” she gushed. She wanted to sweep them up in a hug, but she knew better.

“My arm feels lighter,” Merle reported, letting her lace her fingers through theirs for a few seconds before pulling away. They had insisted to Sabrina that they needed to change before going to Candela’s because they knew she was picky about appearance, and now they were wearing a grey dress with silver buttons that went all the way down the front, and textured tights. They weren’t sure whether she would approve of the outfit, but she didn’t grimace when she saw them, so they must have passed muster.

They glanced back before climbing into the passenger seat, but Sabrina was already gone. Their heart thumped once, painfully, but they reached into their pocket to touch their phone to reassure themself. As Sabrina had said, it was a link to her. They could not use it yet, of course, because Sabrina was driving, but they could check in later if they needed to.

Candela kept up a steady stream of chatter as she drove. Merle tapped their fingers anxiously on their knees and answered any questions she posed to them. They hadn’t been to her home before, and weren’t quite sure what to expect.

It was a row of townhouses, but Merle was beginning to be able to discern the difference between regular-people homes and the more luxurious residences that they had been in lately. This one appeared to be on the luxurious end, which was further proven when they stepped inside.

Candela favoured bold reds, pristine whites, and gleaming blacks. The floors were dark hardwood, the furniture white with red accents - red throw pillows, red rugs, red vases holding fake flowers on black end tables. The kitchen and bathroom gleamed with marble, and the was a black marble fireplace in the living room.

It was also, Merle was relieved to see, very lived-in. Sabrina’s penthouse and Blanche’s apartment were pristine at first glance, though Blanche’s bedroom was messier. Candela’s shoes were haphazardly discarded in the entry way, scarlet pumps in a pile with her jogging shoes and black stilettos. Their fingers itched to tidy it up and place each shoe with their pair, but rifling around in someone else’s living space was unacceptable, so they settled for placing their own shoes neatly side-by-side.

They followed Candela into the living room, where the coffee table was covered in discarded mugs, wineglasses, and jewellery that had clearly been tossed down after a party or gala and forgotten about. There were shelves of knick knacks, which Merle tried to covertly inspect without looking too interested. There was a mug with a Pikachu face on it full of a dark red liquid. Merle recognized the mug - Blanche, Noire, and Professor Willow all seemed to have the same one.

Discarding her coat carelessly on a couch, Candela turned and noticed them staring at the mug. “That was a gift from Spark,” she said. “He got it at a gift shop somewhere. He got one for everyone, and he pouts if we don’t use them. It’s adorable.” She settled onto a couch and drew her legs up next to her. When she leaned back against the blood red pillows, she looked for all the world like a satisfied Persian.

Merle wasn’t sure they liked the look, but they sat when she patted the cushion next to her. They stared at her expectantly. Blanche had told Sabrina not to send them with a backpack, so they weren’t sure what Candela planned for them.

She smiled at them with lips as red as the cushions behind her. “Tell me, Merle, do you know how to play Mario Kart?”

Chapter Text

Merle was quiet when they climbed back into Sabrina’s car after their visit with Candela. Sabrina let them have their silence. She wasn’t the type who needed to fill the air with chatter, and if Merle needed quiet in order to process whatever Candela had put them through, then she would let them have it.

As they pulled up to the parkade entrance, Merle suddenly turned to her. “Sabrina, do you know Mario Kart?” they asked.

“Yes,” she replied, glancing briefly in their direction before returning her eyes to the road ahead. She parked, and they entered the elevator before Merle spoke again.

“I am not good at it,” they said with such obvious displeasure that she almost cracked a smile.

“I suppose you need to practice,” she said.

“I suppose so,” Merle agreed, taking her hand. “If Candela wants me to play again.”

Candela did want them to play again, and they went to her house several times over the coming weeks. Spark and Grisaille sometimes came along, and they had Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros tournaments. Merle proudly told Sabrina that they had not come in last, which they seemed quite smug about.

But all was not well.

For one thing, Merle’s separation anxiety had become a permanent fixture in their lives. The child did not prevent Sabrina from going to work, or object to being sent to visit other people. But they always stared at her with wide eyes whenever they were about to be separated, eyes that asked, ‘Will you come back for me?’ If Sabrina had been a more sentimental person, it would have broken her heart. But she already had them in therapy, and other than working a few more coping mechanisms into their daily routine, there didn’t seem to be much else she could do.

Also concerning was that Willow reported that Merle had taken to sleeping outside his door on the weekends they went to visit. Nothing he offered or suggested to them seemed to help. In fact, if he spoke to them at all when he found them curled in a nest of blankets and pillows outside his door, they would scuttle back to their room like a frightened Krabby.

Sabrina had told him that Merle slept in her bed most nights, but they didn’t seem inclined to ask Willow for the same thing. Which was probably for the best, she supposed, because Willow wouldn’t have been comfortable with that either.

All this, combined with the fact that Merle had almost completely backslid into old habits, meant that Sabrina was perpetually exhausted. Merle barely ate, and even when they curled next to her in bed, they barely slept. Sabrina would wake up multiple times during the night to find them huddled in a blanket burrito, sweating and shaking. Sometimes they would drift off and wake up screaming.

Sending Merle to Willow’s on weekends was a welcome respite, but it was one of the few she got. Before, she had been able to send Merle for overnight visits with Noire, but now they weren’t speaking to Noire and refused to spend the night with anyone but Willow. Not even with Amelie, who the child quietly adored.

Still, they would go out for an afternoon as long as they didn’t have to stay the night. Sabrina was intensely grateful to Spark, Candela, and Amelie, who were saving her sanity during this challenging time. Candela and Spark were willing to take Merle for an afternoon, evening, or day trip whenever their respective schedules permitted. Despite her personal dislike of Sabrina, Amelie would come over on some afternoons to watch movies, do puzzles, or bake cookies with Merle so that Sabrina could catch up on work or take a nap. And while part of Sabrina felt like she was abandoning the child whenever she sent them off with someone else, not having to be the one to fight food into them was too welcome for her to give it up.

When Amelie came, Noire usually accompanied her. Merle ignored them. It hurt Noire’s feelings, but it didn’t stop them from coming and participating in whatever activity the other two were doing. Noire confided in her that they hoped Merle would warm up to them again if they just kept coming and didn’t pressure the child to interact with them.

After Merle’s behaviour continued for a full week, Sabrina finally told Noire and Willow what Merle had said at the hospital. She told Noire first, pulling them aside while Amelie and Merle cooked dinner. They took the news quietly, though Sabrina could tell that they were worried.

Willow was less gracious. “And you didn’t think we needed to know this earlier?” he demanded, leaning across the table toward her.

Sabrina shrugged. “I wasn’t sure how serious they were. If it was a temporary thing that would blow over in a couple days, then why worry everyone? Noire and Blanche used to get into petty fights over everything under the sun and declare they were never speaking to each other again when they were small, and they always forgot and made up within two days. I didn’t know Merle would stick it out this long. They’re very stubborn,” she said.

Willow fiddled with the handle of his mug. “Maybe they really will cut ties with the twins forever.” There were deep lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there a couple years ago.

“I don’t think so,” Sabrina said. She sipped her tea. She would have preferred coffee, which helped keep her conscious and somewhat functional. She had downed so much coffee over the last week, however, that she needed to cut back. Drowning her system in caffeine wasn’t going to help her sleep.

“Merle misses the twins too much to cut them out entirely,” Sabrina continued. She gave up on the tea and set the mug aside. It wasn’t a blend she liked.

“Do they?” Willow asked, surprised. He sipped his coffee, the bitter scent making her slightly-addicted brain ache. Merle never gave Blanche the time of day when they were both at his house. It certainly didn’t seem as though they missed their older siblings.

“They do.” Sabrina knew their moods well enough now to discern that the child was desperately lonely. No matter how much time they spent with other people, it didn't seem to be an acceptable substitute for their siblings. They were still weirdly stiff with everyone else, even Sabrina herself. Personally, Sabrina suspected that the bond Merle was trying to forge with Grisaille was one of the reasons they hadn’t caved in and forgiven the twins yet. According to Willow, the children were now inseparable while at his house. Their fledgling bond was fragile and awkward, but to Merle it was probably all they had.

She remained silent while Willow took his time digesting that information. He held his mug absently, without drinking from it. Sabrina guessed that he had forgotten it existed.

Finally, Willow sighed and raked a hand through his greying hair. “I wish they would discuss their concerns with Blanche,” he said. “Then maybe they could move forward. I want them to forgive Blanche soon. They’re breaking their heart.”

Sabrina hummed noncommittally to that. It wasn’t that she didn’t care or didn’t agree, but the days where Blanche would talk to her about their troubles were long gone.

“On a different topic,” Willow said, shaking his shoulders as though to dispel melancholy thoughts. “Have your operatives found anything new at that suspicious manufacturing plant in Orre?”

A different topic, but hardly a happier one. “I haven’t received a report in a while,” Sabrina said. She raised a hand to placate him when he looked alarmed. “It’s fine. The last communication I received was that they were going deep undercover. They can’t risk sending anything right now.”

He didn’t look reassured. “And if they never get back to you?”

“Team Rocket has procedures, Willow. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this.”

“Right, right. Just... keep me updated?”

“Of course.”

##

“Merle?” Sabrina called into the house as she took off her shoes.

There was the soft patter of feet as Merle rushed down the hall to greet her. They stopped short of barreling into her. They hovered at the edge of the entryway, waiting for her to set her shoes aside and hang up her coat. When she was finished, she held her arms out. They launched themself at her, their hands tangling in the back of her shirt.

It was a familiar ritual. It was probably a good thing that they were finally, finally, getting attached to her, but it was exhausting to constantly cater to the needs of someone else. She ran her hands briskly over their hair twice, then gently pried their arms off.

“Alexa is...?” she asked, referring to their tutor.

“Marking my math sheets.”

“Good. Come sit with me. There’s something I went to discuss.” She drew them into the living room with her. From her position she could see Alexa in the kitchen, her head bent over Merle’s worksheets as she worked her way through them with a red pen.

Merle settled next to her on the couch, their legs curled under them and their hands folded primly in their lap. They stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak.

“Your arm has healed nicely,” Sabrina began. “And you seem to be getting bored.”

Merle’s eyes widened with alarm. “I have not complained. I have no right to complain,” they said in a rush. They leaned toward her, their hands twisting with distress. “My life is satisfactory. Everyone has been very considerate.” Like Grisaille, they avoided using the words ‘good’ or ‘kind’ because they had very specific connotations for those words that were not flattering to the people they assigned the titles to.

She waited for them to settle down. “That wasn’t a criticism, Merle, merely an observation. Would you object to having a new activity introduced into your schedule?”

They were immediately wary. “A new activity?”

She realized her mistake and quickly clarified. “I was thinking you might like to learn an instrument.”

”An instrument?”

“Yes.”

“...Of torture?”

“No.”

The child blinked at her. That little furrow had appeared between their brows, letting her know that they genuinely did not understand what she was trying to tell them. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “A musical instrument, Merle.”

“Oh.” They paused to think about it. “I have heard that those can be instruments of torture in the wrong hands. Particularly bagpipes. Am I to learn the bagpipes?”

“Absolutely not.” Sabrina didn’t think she could endure that. “I have a piano that I brought with me from Kanto. It’s the same one that Noire learned to play on. It doesn’t get much use these days, and just sits in the corner gathering dust. I thought you could get some use out of it.”

“Oh. I will learn the piano, if that would please you, Madame.”

“It doesn’t have to be piano, though. You can learn something else if you like.”

“Like what?”

“What interests you?”

There was a long pause while the child considered the question. “The flute,” they finally decided.

“All right. I can arrange for you to take lessons.” She started to stand. She needed to get dinner ready, but a small hand on her arm made her pause. “Yes?”

“Can I learn both?” the child asked. The little furrow was back. She could sense their desire to please her. They were able to make some of their own choices now, but they still wanted to do what she suggested, because she was the authority figure in charge of them. They believed their survival depended on her good opinion.

“If that’s what you want,” she said. “I can certainly afford it.”

##

A couple weeks later, Sabrina was attempting to force a plate of stir fried rice into Merle when her phone rang. She frowned at the child, who had crossed their arms defiantly over their chest and was glaring at her. “Eat,” she said, and checked her call display. She was surprised - although she had given him her number at the hospital, Spark never called her.

“Hello?” she asked warily.

“Is this Sabrina?” The voice was female, and definitely did not belong to Spark.

“....Leader Candela? To what do I owe the pleasure?” She glanced across the table at Merle, who had dropped their arms in surprise and was frowning at the phone pressed to her ear.

An unladylike snort came from the other end. “Even you must know that this is getting ridiculous,” Candela said. “Merle’s miserable. Blanche is miserable. Even Rocket’s moping around. When they invaded my gym the other day, I told them Merle didn’t love them anymore. They burst into tears and threw me through a wall.”

“Even if I agree, I don’t see what point you’re trying to make,” Sabrina said.

“My point is, everyone needs to talk. So even though I don’t want you and or anyone else from your organization within the city limits, I’m extending an invitation to you. Meet me at Valor headquarters in an hour. Charles will meet you when you arrive and show you to the meeting place.” She didn’t wait for Sabrina to argue, and simply hung up.

Sabrina lowered the phone and blinked at Merle. All she could think was Candela must really love the child -or Blanche- for her to invite a member of Team Rocket into her territory. Of course, there was the possibility of it being a trap, but Sabrina doubted Candela would want her bringing Merle along if that were the case.

“Put on a jacket and get your shoes, Merle. We’re going to visit Candela,” she said with a sigh.

##

“Come on, Blanche. You can’t spend all of your non-work hours sulking in your bed.” Candela picked her way across the floor of Blanche’s bedroom with a grimace. Normally Blanche wasn’t the tidiest person, but over the last few days their living space had gotten messier than she had ever seen it. Rumour had it that they’d chased off their housekeeper by throwing a temper tantrum about dust bunnies, though Candela knew it wasn’t really the dust bunnies they were upset about.

She stepped over a pile of empty fruit cups and seized Blanche’s bare feet, the only part of their body that poked out of their blanket cocoon. They attempted to kick her when she pulled, and she stepped nimbly to the side to avoid their foot.

“Leave, Candela,” Blanche said, their voice dripping ice. “I function at work. That is all that can be reasonably expected of me. Now get out.”

The ferocity of this statement was considerably muted by the fact that the pile of blankets on top of them muffled their words and prevented them from giving one of their trademark glares. Undeterred, Candela grabbed their feet again. She dragged them from the bed, ignoring their muffled protests and attempts to wiggle away. They were wrapped so tightly in their blankets that they couldn’t fight her off, and in seconds she had dumped them onto the floor.

“You’re sulking,” she said, ignoring the frost that was beginning to form on the floor around them. She had Moltres’ fire inside her. She wasn’t scared of a little cold. “You’ve been sulking for days, whenever you’re not biting the head off of anyone who comes near you.”

“I have done no such thing.”

“Blanche, you made Spark cry this morning. You’ve terrorized your interns so badly that three of them have transferred to Instinct, one has transferred to Valor, and two have packed up and left for some research project in Alola.”

“Spark cries whenever he hatches an egg,” Blanche said, clearly ignoring her point about the interns. “I’m hardly responsible for his fragile feelings.”

“When Spark hatches an egg he’s crying from joy, darling,” Candela said. She dragged them to the closet by their feet and began to rummage through it. Blanche had no fashion sense whatsoever. Everything was navy blue, cyan, or bright magenta, with the occasional white or black piece mixed in. “He definitely wasn’t crying from joy when you called him a reprobate half-wit.”

“I doubt he even knows what that means,” Blanche grumbled, fighting their way free of their blankets and pushing themself into a sitting position just as Candela dumped her selection of clothes on their head. “What is this for?” they asked, scowling as they pulled a button-up shirt off their head and raised it.”

“We’re going out.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Merle will be there.”

That made Blanche pause, and Candela smirked. “Merle does not want to see me,” they said. Their voice was stiff, but there was a wistful undercurrent to it.

“I’ve called a family meeting at Valor Headquarters. Noire and Grisaille will be there was well.”

Blanche shucked their pyjamas and pulled on the clothes she had picked for them. “How are you going to get Noire to Valor Headquarters?” they asked.

“Brute force, darling.”

“Oh... very well.”

##

Candela would be damned if she was going to play nice and negotiate with Noire. She hated Team Rocket in general, but her hatred for Noire was specific and personal. The fact that they were a member of Team Rocket made it easier to justify her hatred to outsiders without explaining how it had felt to be forced to watch for years as Blanche fell to pieces while their most important person, their twin, abandoned them.

Just remembering it made her jaw clench with familiar rage and protectiveness. And now it was Merle who was hurting Blanche. It wasn’t the same, of course. Merle and Blanche weren’t dependent on each other the way Noire and Blanche had been all their lives, and Merle was a child while Blanche was an adult. The dynamics were completely different. But Blanche was in pain and she wanted it to stop, so she had made a plan.

Spark had agreed to assist her, lending his phone to her so that she could call Sabrina and volunteering to be her driver for this part of the plan.

“There they are, Candy. Up ahead,” Spark said, breaking into her thoughts. She looked up as he pointed through the windshield. Noire was standing with Amelie, both of them waiting at the intersection for the crosswalk light to change.

Candela sat up straighter, rolling her shoulders. “All right. Let’s make this fast. I don’t want to waste time on a fight,” she said.

“Got it, Candy. Ready when you are.”

##

Noire was arguing with Amelie about whether six Snickers bars could be considered lunch when the sound of tires squealing on the pavement behind them made them both turn. The van bumped into the curb next to them, missing Amelie by inches. Noire was about to shout at the driver that they'd better fucking watch where they were going when the passenger door flew open and Candela leaped out.

“What the hell-” Noire began as she seized them by the shoulders. Her knee slammed into their stomach, making them double over with a gasp. They could feel Amelie uncoiling beside them, ready to defend them, but the Valor bitch had already lifted them over her head. Without a word, she leaped into the back of the van with them and slammed the doors closed.

“Drive, Spark, drive!” she yelled.

The van lurched underneath them as it accelerated. “Boss!” Noire heard Amelie cry, her voice fading into the distance.

“What the hell!” they snapped again, starting to push themself off the bare floor of the van. Candela planted a high-heeled foot on their back and shoved back down, their nose slamming into the floor with a burst of pain.

“Stay where you are. This won’t be a long drive.”

##

Noire was hauled, protesting, though the back doors of Valor and slammed into one of the high security chambers. Their face was bruised due to their failure to obey Candela’s orders not to pick a fight. Candela released their collar. They whirled around to strike her. She ducked to the side and smiled, to their surprise.

“Oh good, everyone’s here,” she said. “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure you would be available, Professor.”

“I made time,” Professor Willow’s replied.

Noire turned around. The only furnishings in the room were a long table lined with chairs. Most of the chairs were unoccupied, but in the occupied seats were Professor Willow, Grisaille, Merle, Sabrina, and Blanche. Spark moved from behind them and settled in a chair at the end, across from Sabrina. Merle and Grisaille were on the opposite end, seated next to each other, with Blanche across from them. Merle was avoiding looking at anyone and stared at the table.

Noire had planned on busting out, but the sight of their siblings made them pause. “What’s going on?” they asked, directing their question to Blanche.

“A family meeting, apparently,” their twin replied. They didn’t look at Noire. They were staring across the table at Merle, who leaned over to whisper to Grisaille.

“That’s right!” Candela’s sing-song voice grated on their nerves. They moved away from her as she flitted by to lean against the table next to Professor Willow. “Have a seat and we’ll get started.”

They didn’t want to do anything at Candela’s request, but they didn’t want to look bad in front of their younger siblings. After a moment of hesitation, they sat in the empty seat next to Blanche. The four of them were clearly meant to be sitting close to each other for this ‘meeting’, though Noire didn’t see why anyone else needed to be present.

They crossed their arms over their chest. “Fine. I’m sitting.”

“Excellent. Now, as some of you know, the purpose of this meeting is to facilitate communication between Merle and their siblings. Merle, you have decided not to have a relationship with Blanche and Noire at this time. Is that correct?”

Merle squirmed at having so many sets of eyes on them. They nodded once and stared at Grisaille for help. Grisaille stared blankly back.

“Can we ask why?”

Merle shook their head. Realizing that Grisaille was going to be no help, they went back to staring at the table.

“They can’t fix the problem if you don’t tell them what the problem is,” Candela said. “Can’t you give them a chance?”

Merle remained silent. Their jaw set the same way it did at meal times when they refused to eat.

“I know that I was not kind to Merle,” Blanche said, breaking the silence. “My behaviour at the berry farm has not caused them to view me kindly, and while I have apologized, I do understand that they have no obligation to forgive me. Sometimes bad behaviour cannot be forgiven.” They glanced at Noire as if they couldn’t help it. Noire flinched.

“Okay. Does anyone know what Noire did to piss Merle off?” Candela asked, clearly viewing herself as the leader of this meeting.

There was another silence as everyone looked at each other (or avoided looking at each other, in certain cases).

This time the silence was broken by Sabrina. She didn’t look as though she wanted to participate in the meeting. “It isn’t something Noire did to Merle, but rather something Blanche and Noire did to each other.” Merle glanced at her as she spoke, biting their lip. She continued, “Merle was very upset when we went to visit the twins at the hospital after their battle outside one of Mystic’s gyms. Part of it was being at the hospital, but there was more to it. Wasn’t there, Merle?”

She kept her red eyes steady on Merle’s face despite the fact that the child looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Merle finally mumbled, glancing over at her.

“You are lonely. You miss your siblings. You now have an opportunity to explain to them how they have hurt you. You don’t have to take it, but you may regret it later if you don’t,” Sabrina said.

Merle finally looked up, staring across the table at Blanche and Noire. They looked uncertain. Noire wanted desperately to hug them. “I do not like it,” Merle murmured, “when they hurt each other.”

“When we hurt each other?” Blanche asked, surprised.

Merle nodded. They twisted their fingers together, staring at the table top. “It makes me afraid. This isn’t Cipher, and I know that. I know it, but when you fought, it made me remember. I had to fight the others.” They glanced sideways at Grisaille. Without looking at Merle, Grisaille nodded in understanding. Merle took a deep breath. “I had to- to ki-ki-”

Blanche stopped them by placing a hand over their rapidly fidgeting fingers. “It’s okay. I understand,” they said. “I’m sorry that we brought back bad memories for you. We aren’t going to kill each other. We just have very contrary interests.”

“I’m not going to die so easily,” Noire added. They considered slapping Blanche’s hand aside so that they could hold Merle’s hand, but decided against it.

“It’s very easy to die,” Merle said with finality. “Even for the people you think could never die.”

Noire left their seat and came around the table to crouch by Merle’s chair, putting one hand on the back for balance. “Hey, look at me,” they said, and waited until Merle did. “I get it. You’re scared. You’ve lost one family already, and seeing me’n Blanche in the hospital probably brought all those memories rushing back. And we can’t promise that we’ll never go down, but I’m really sturdy and Blanche has a Titan, so we’re harder to kill than most. Okay?” They reached up with a gentle hand and brushed their fingers over the ends of Merle’s hair.

“But...” Merle said.

“We also cannot promise not to fight,” Blanche said. They had laced the fingers of one hand through Merle’s, and they reached for Grisaille with the other hand. “Our jobs mean that we are often pitted against one another. We also have some personal issues between us. But it is between us, and we shouldn’t have shoved it in your face that way. But you and Grisaille are separate from our problems with each other. No matter how we feel about each other, we still...” they paused and a blush crossed their cheekbones. “We still love you. You’re still our precious younger siblings.” Too embarrassed to maintain eye contact, they looked away, pointedly ignoring Noire’s muffled snort and ‘nice speech, mon petit chou.”

Merle also ignored this, as well as Candela’s glare aimed at Noire. “I’m sorry too,” they said. “I should have spoken to you about my concerns. But I did not feel I had the right to criticize.”

“Hey, you always have the right to tell us when we’ve fucked up,” Noire said.

“Noire, watch your language around the children,” Blanche scolded.

“Always. I know it’ll take a while for you to be completely comfortable with that-”

“Not too long. They do not seem to have any problem telling me when I’ve done something wrong,” Blanche interrupted.

“-but you have my permission.” Noire finished as though Blanche had never spoken. “So do you forgive us now? Can we have a do-over?”

Merle looked between their siblings and then, inexplicably, toward Sabrina. They bit their lip. “Okay,” they said. “We can have a do-over.” They offered Blanche a tremulous smile. “After all, you still have not kept your promise to teach me how to swim.”

Chapter Text

All the pokemon had been cleared out of one of the shallow training pools in Mystic Headquarters. Thick dividing walls slid out of the walls to block it off from the other training pools so that Mystic’s researchers could still use them while Merle’s swimming lesson was in progress.

Blanche had promised to teach Merle how to swim during the first few days after Merle had left the hospital, when they mentioned that they didn’t know how. It had gotten set aside until Merle’s cast could be removed, and between that period of time and the period of time where Merle wasn’t talking to Blanche, they had assumed that the child forgot the promise. Blanche was touched that Merle remembered.

Today was to be the first lesson. Merle had invited Grisaille, and while the two children dressed in their swimsuits in one of the adjoining changing rooms, Blanche obsessively checked that the dividing walls were secure and that there wasn’t anything present that was known to agitate either child. They had a couple Mystic team members unobtrusively scattered around in case something went wrong. They were determined that this would go well. They had been a lousy older sibling so far, to both children, and they were going to do better going forward.

The door of the change room opened, and Merle stepped out, followed by Grisaille. Merle looked self-conscious in a black tankini-style swimsuit like the type Noire had always favoured, leading Blanche to believe that their twin had picked it out. The style was slightly different than what Noire would wear, with baggier shorts and a pattern of bright orange and fuschia flowers that stood out against the black. Merle looked alarmed at having their stomach on display, even though the top was long and left only a few inches of skin uncovered. They kept bending over to stare at themself, anxiously tapping their exposed stomach with their fingers.

Grisaille was more covered, in a wetsuit like Blanche’s but with short legs and sleeves. It might even have been one of Blanche’s, stored in a box when Blanche had outgrown it and pulled out for the occasion. It certainly looked familiar enough.

They pushed thoughts of their childhood from their mind. “Are you both ready?” Blanche asked as the children arranged themselves in a line.

Grisaille nodded, their hands clasped in front of them as they looked around the room. Merle squared their thin shoulders and nodded, though where Grisaille seemed calm and curious, Merle looked as though they were preparing to do something unpleasant and potentially life-threatening, but necessary.

“I am prepared,” they murmured, glancing at the water and back again with that same tense expression on their face.

“Do either of you have any experience in the water?” Blanche asked. They had intended to ask Professor Willow about Grisaille’s experience when he dropped them off, but it seemed he was busy again and it was his admin that had shown up at Mystic Headquarters with Grisaille.

Merle shook their head, but Grisaille spoke up. “Deep enough to splash, as when we went on a picnic with Spark,” they said. “And during water trials with Cipher.”

Blanche’s heart sank. They didn’t want to ask, but...

“Water trials?” Merle asked, stealing the words out of Blanche’s mouth. They slipped their hand into Grisaille’s and squeezed. “That does not sound pleasant.”

“It was not. Subjects would be shoved into a tank while the handlers recorded how long it took them to become exhausted and sink,” Grisaille said with no emotion whatsoever. “Sometimes they could not be revived when removed from the tank and were discarded.”

Swallowing down bile, Blanche gently placed a hand on each child’s shoulder. “This will not be like that,” they said, looking both children in the eye so that they could see they meant it. Grisaille met their eyes calmly, full of trust, but Merle remained apprehensive. Their faith in Blanche was damaged and would have to be rebuilt. Blanche accepted that.

Releasing the children, they moved to the edge of the pool. Merle and Grisaille trailed behind. “Merle, you have no experience at all?” Blanche asked.

“I have never gone deeper than my knees.”

Blanche indicated for the children to stay where they were while Blanche lowered themself down and slid into the pool. The water rose to their hips. “As you can see,” they said, spreading their hands, “this pool is not deep. You’ll be able to touch the bottom even if you fall in. For now, I want you to sit on the side and splash, to get used to how the water feels and behaves.”

Both children obeyed, sitting side-by-side on the edge of the pool with their legs dangling into the water. Blanche moved to the side where they wouldn’t get splashed. “Now, kick with your feet. No, harder,” they added when the children started to splash feebly. “You’re allowed to make noise. You’re allowed to make a mess.”

Merle glanced quickly at them to make sure they meant it, and kicked hard. Water splashed high above their head and rained down on them and Grisaille. Grisaille gasped as the cold liquid spattered their skin and shuffled along the side of the pool until there was three feet of space between them and Merle.

Blanche couldn't help but smile. “You’re supposed to get wet,” they reminded Grisaille. “And part of the point of this exercise is to get you used to the temperature of the water.”

“I can splash myself. I do not require Merle’s help,” the child replied. If Blanche wasn’t imagining it, they sounded almost reproachful of Merle.

Merle responded by kicking their leg in Grisaille’s direction, splashing them with water. They giggled when Grisaille defended their face and frowned at them. “Merle.”

The tight knot of stress in Blanche's chest loosened. Merle did have a playful side. It was currently being used to torment Grisaille, but it did exist. “You’re supposed to be kicking,” they reminded the pair, who immediately set to churning up the water with their feet.

Merle’s lips were moving. Blanche strained to hear, and realized they were murmuring “Thunk thunk thunk thunk,” as they brought each foot down, mimicking the sound of their foot slamming into the water. They didn’t seem to mind the water that sloshed up around their waist, though Grisaille was still trying to follow Blanche’s instructions while also not making a mess.

After a few minutes of this, Blanche encouraged the children to slide into the water while still holding on to the edge. They lowered themselves in cautiously. The water was up to their chests with just their heads and shoulders above the surface. Merle clung to the side of the pool, but Grisaille wandered cautiously back and forth, keeping close to the side in case they needed to grab on.

Blanche let the children adjust, then instructed them to hold on to the edge of the pool and taught them how to bob in and out of the water. This Merle did not like. As soon as the water closed over their head they would start flailing, and Blanche would have to go over to haul them to the surface.

“You need to hold your breath,” they reminded them as Merle choked on water. Merle wrapped their legs around Blanche’s waist and clung to their shoulders, refusing to be put back in the water. Blanche pried them off and sat them back at the side of the pool, holding out their hands to prevent Merle from latching onto them again. “Watch how Grisaille does it.”

Grisaille was dutifully plunging under water and then surging up, using the side of the pool to leverage themself almost completely out of the water before ducking down again. They had paused each time Merle floundered, waiting to make sure Blanche had it under control and their sibling was all right before they continued, but now that Merle was out of the water they had found a rhythm.

Obediently, Merle studied Grisaille. While they watched, they shivered and rubbed the goose bumps on their arms, but did not complain. Blanche decided that was enough for today.

“Go get changed. When you’re finished, wait in the change room and I’ll come get you,” they said once they’d gotten Grisaille’s attention. “I don’t want you wandering around by yourselves.”

“Yes, Blanche,” they chorused. Dripping and shivering, they hustled to the change room. As the door closed, Grisaille could be heard explaining to Merle how they had to blow bubbles with their nose when they went under, to keep water from going up their nose.

Blanche returned the training pool to its former state and went to join their younger siblings. Once all three of them were showered and changed, Blanche asked, “So was that okay? Do you want to come for another swimming lesson?”

“Yes,” they said in unison, which surprised Blanche. They had expected Merle to be frustrated and grumpy, but they were humming absently as they laced their shoes, which seemed to be indicative of a good mood.

Noticing Blanche’s eyes on them, Merle looked up and frowned. “I know I did not do very well. I will try harder next time,” they promised.

“It’s all right not to do it perfectly,” Blanche said. They dug around in their locker for something. Where had they put it? “If you could do it perfectly the first time, you wouldn’t need me to teach you.” They pulled out their jacket and reached into the pockets, coming up with two small boxes.

Although Blanche knew the children must be curious, they did not ask about the boxes until they left the change room and Blanche held one out to each of them. “Here.”

“What is it?” Merle asked, staring at the top but not making a move to open it.

“A gift. For each of you. I got them a while ago, but you were upset with me so I hadn’t had a chance to give it to you.”

“And Grisaille?” Merle asked, glancing over at the matching box in Grisaille’s hands. Both boxes were about the size of Blanche’s palm and made of polished wood. There were hinges on one side and a small clasp on the other.

“They match, so I thought it would be weird to give it to one of you before the other,” Blanche explained. They shifted uncomfortably. “Are you going to open them?”

Grisaille looked up at that. “Is it all right?”

“Yes.”

Both children carefully undid the latches and opened the lids. Merle’s eyes widened and Grisaille’s lips curved in a surprised smile. Grisaille lifted the necklace out of the box and held it up by the chain so that it could catch the light.

“Ammolite,” they said. “Like at the museum we went to with the Professor.”

“Yes,” Blanche said. Nerves squirmed in a tight ball in their chest like a nest of Ekans. Did they like it? Blanche had bought the necklaces on a whim after Grisaille had said that both they and Merle liked the ammolite best at the museum. It had been hard to find something that suited their taste and was simple enough to be appropriate for a pair of children, and Blanche was terrified that they wouldn’t like it. They knew with sharp certainty that they were terrible at making their siblings happy. Perhaps it was silly to have bought them each a small trinket in order to please them. They probably didn’t even want it. Especially not from Blanche. Noire and Candela were so much better at choosing thoughtful gifts, and Spark gave such small silly things like Pikachu mugs and erasers in the shape of Shellder that you couldn’t help but smile.

Grisaille was fumbling with the clasp on the necklace as they tried to put it around their neck. Their small face scrunched up in concentration as the ends kept missing each other.

“Here, let me help,” Blanche said. If there was a nervous tremor in their hands as they gently took the ends of the necklace from Grisaille and fastened it, they hoped that neither of the children noticed it.

Merle had left their necklace in its box and was running the chain through their fingers. When they were finished with Grisaille, Blanche turned to them. They swallowed the anxiety that pushed itself up their throat and asked, “Would you like me to help you put it on, Merle?”

Merle frowned, and Blanche’s heart dropped. They didn’t like it. They hated it. Blanche should have chosen something else. Maybe it was too soon to give Merle a gift anyway. They probably thought Blanche was trying to buy their way back into their affections.

“Is it okay to wear it?” Merle asked, looking up at Blanche with an anxious expression. “It’s so pretty. What if I get it caught on something and break it?”

Blanche took a deep breath. Calm down. “I am confident that you will be careful with it. You are very careful with your things.”

After a moment Merle nodded and took the necklace out of its box. They held it out to Blanche, who took it. Merle stuffed the box into the pocket of their hoodie and held up their hair with both hands. “Will you please help me?” they asked.

Blanche stepped forward and reached around them. They draped the necklace carefully around Merle’s neck and did up the clasp. They stepped back. Merle dropped their hair and looked down at themself, picking up the piece of ammolite to examine it.

“Do I look pretty?” they asked without looking up.

“What?”

“Candela says I need to look pretty.”

Blanche felt a surge of irritation toward their friend. “You have no obligation to look pretty,” they said. “But it suits you and looks nice, yes.”

Merle dropped the ammolite, letting it fall to settle back against their chest. “Grisaille looks nice too,” they said. Grisaile sent them a small smile.

Blanche checked their watch. “Time to go. Merle, am I supposed to take you back to Sabrina?”

“No. Sabrina arranged with Professor Willow that I am to go to his house early since it’s Friday. I apologize. I was supposed to tell you when I arrived here, but I forgot,” Merle replied.

“Professor Willow is in an important meeting now,” Grisaille said. “Blanche is supposed to care for us until he returns.”

“Let’s go, then. We’ll pick up some lunch and wait for the Professor at his house. He lent me a key,” Blanche said.

They had stepped out the front doors when Blanche paused. They could hear Candela’s voice. She had a loud voice that was easy to pick up among the other noises of traffic, music, and people talking. They looked around and spotted her near the corner of the building, wearing athletic gear and standing by her Arcanine. There was a group of children around her, and Blanche vaguely remembered her telling them that she was giving kids interested in the Junior Go Program a tour of the public facilities today. They must have just finished their tour at Valor, and were about to start their Mystic tour.

She spotted them and waved. Her group of children swiveled their heads around to see what she was looking at and gaped at Blanche. “Everyone, that’s Leader Blanche of Mystic,” she said to the group. “Does anyone know what pokemon type Blanche specializes in?”

She didn’t get an answer. A scream rent the air. Blanche whirled, reaching for their siblings before they had even processed which one was screaming. Grisaille and Merle had turned at the sound of Candela’s voice. Upon seeing the Arcanine, Grisaille had spun around and fled back inside. They stood with their face pressed against the glass doors, staring fixedly at the Arcanine as though they could keep it from coming near by willpower alone. If they tapped the abilities granted to them by the Shadow Corruption Program at Cipher, they could have. But they had been taught by the Professor and their siblings not to use those powers unless it was an emergency.

Merle screamed again and ducked away from Blanche’s reaching hands. “Shit!” they heard Candela say behind them. There was the distinctive electronic noise of a pokemon being returned to its pokeball amid childish voices raised in question, but Merle whipped around and sprinted down the sidewalk.

“Merle, I’ve put him away! Merle, it’s okay!” Blanche heard Candela yell after them as they started to run after their sibling.

“Stay with Grisaille!” Blanche yelled back to her. They couldn’t wait to see if she heard or acknowledged their request. She wouldn’t abandon Grisaille whether she heard or not, and Blanche had to get Merle.

The child ran in blind terror, shoving pedestrians out of the way. They charged through an intersection, heedless of the light, and were nearly hit by a black pickup truck. Blanche's heart stuttered in their chest. The child was too frightened to be careful. Blanche had to get to them before they hurt themself.

“Merle! It’s okay! I won’t allow it to hurt you!” Blanche shouted after them in their birth tongue.

Merle leaped over a fence into a small park, knocking over a jogger in their terror. Blanche was gaining on them as they raced through the park and over the fence at the other side. Merle crossed another intersection just as the light turned green, forcing Blanche to stop as cars raced in front of them. Their heart dropped. They were going to lose sight of Merle, and then how would they find them? What if they got hit?

The light changed again, and Blanche ran faster than they ever had in their life, fueled by fear for their sibling.

They might really have lost Merle. The child was incredibly fast and motivated. Their saving grace was an elderly woman walking a Granbull at the end of the street. Merle recoiled at the sight of the pokemon, skidding to a halt and looking wildly around for a safer path. Their hesitation allowed Blanche to catch up to them, and they seized Merle around the waist and lifted them off the ground.

Merle screamed and began to struggle, their hands twisting Blanche’s flesh hard enough to bruise. Blanche tightened their hold and shouted in their ear. “Merle! It’s Blanche!”

Merle continued to struggle as though they hadn’t heard them. Suddenly they twisted, wrapping both arms around Blanche’s neck and burrowing in. “Blanche, it’s going to eat me!” they sobbed. Merle tried to squirm into Blanche’s jacket to hide, but of course they were too big. Blanche shifted their hold on their sibling to be more secure and rubbed their back, making soothing noises.

“They’re my sibling,” they said stiffly to the old woman, who had stopped walking and was squinting at them with concern. “They have a phobia of pokemon and are frightened.”

The woman’s lips pursed in sympathy. “I see. That poor child. Here, let me put Bessie away.” She returned the Granbull to its pokeball. “I’m parked just a couple blocks from here if you need a ride,” she offered.

“That would be most welcome, thank you,” Blanche accepted gratefully. The child was lighter than a child their age should have been, but that didn’t mean they were light.

Blanche carried Merle as they followed the woman to her car. Merle refused to let go, so Blanche opted to sit in the back seat with them on their lap. The fact that this meant they couldn’t put a seat belt on their sibling bothered them, but Merle’s hold was like having a pokemon use Bind on them and the child could not be removed from their person.

“Where to, dear?” the woman asked as she settled behind the wheel and adjusted her mirror.

“Mystic HQ. Do you need directions?”

“No, that’s all right. I know where it is. My son works there.” The woman merged into traffic and began to drive toward Mystic Headquarters. “What scared them so badly?” she asked, obviously referring to Merle. “Was it my Bess?”

“My coworker’s Arcanine. Usually we are very careful, but she was on the sidewalk when we stepped outside.” Blanche felt protective of Merle and didn’t want to give the woman too much information. Merle still had their face buried in Blanche’s coat, crying softly. They were making small hiccuping sounds as they tried to get themself back under control. Blanche smoothed a hand over their hair, wishing they knew how to comfort them. Noire would have known what to do, a fact that bothered them even though they knew it shouldn't.

When the woman dropped them off, Candela was pacing the sidewalk in front of the building. She darted forward when she spotted Blanche and Merle getting out of the car. “I’m so sorry, darling!” she said, stopping short of hugging Merle when they ducked behind Blanche. There were tear tracks down their cheeks, but to Blanche’s dizzy relief they had at least stopped crying. “I knew about your swim lesson today, but I didn’t even think- And I’ve scared you so badly. I’m sorry.”

Candela looked near tears herself. Blanche was horrified. They had barely handled Merle crying. What were they supposed to do if Candela turned on the waterworks? “Merle is fine, Candela,” they said, and felt Merle stiffen behind them. They hastily amended their statement. “They will be fine, once I get them to Professor Willow’s house and they can curl up in a quiet place. Probably with a book.”

They risked a glance behind them. Merle’s expression was stiff under the tearstains and cheeks puffy from crying. Blanche had messed this up again. They reached behind them and gave the child’s hand a brief squeeze in apology. After a moment, Merle squeezed back.

“Where’s Grisaille?” they asked Candela.

She looked up from where she crouched on the ground, trying to coax Merle into giving her a hug. “Waiting for you and Merle to come back made them anxious, so I got Marshall, one of my senior trainers, to take over the tour and bring them along. I thought having something to do might smooth them out. Look, they’re coming back.”

It was true. The doors to Mystic Headquarters opened and young would-be pokemon trainers spilled out behind a tall, dark-skinned man in Valor red who held Grisaille by the hand. He nodded politely to them, then spoke to Candela. “Leader Candela, we’ve completed the tour. The bus will be by any minute to take us to Instinct next. Will you be coming?” While he spoke, Grisaille transferred from him to Blanche, sending Merle an unreadable look before taking Blanche’s hand.

Candela stood and looked at Blanche. “Please go ahead. I will be taking the children to Professor Willow’s house and waiting with them there,” Blanche said, reading the question on her face. Her presence wasn’t necessary, and she wouldn’t be missing out on anything.

“All right. Just call me if you need anything, okay? Any of you.” She ruffled Grisaille’s hair affectionately and would have ruffled Merle’s if they hadn’t tucked their head under the hem of Blanche’s coat to evade just such a treatment. She withdrew with a pout. “There’s the bus. See you soon, darlings!”

As she darted off, Blanche looked down at the children. “We should get going as well. Come along,” they said, ushering them in the direction of their car. They hoped there wouldn’t be any more excitement before Professor Willow came home.

Chapter Text

When Professor Willow returned home from a full day of meetings, he found the three siblings grouped in the living room. Grisaille had found a deck of cards somewhere and was quietly building a house with them on one side of the coffee table. They had gotten it remarkably high, though the breeze created when Willow swept into the room sent it cascading down. Grisaille blinked, a card still poised in their hand, then looked up at the Professor. There was no accusation in their eyes - no emotion in their eyes at all - but he couldn’t help but feel that he was being scolded. “Sorry, Grisaille. I’ll try to move more carefully,” he said, an apologetic smile on his face.

Blanche glanced up at him and nodded in greeting. They looked tense. Only someone who knew them well would know that they were alarmed. They were sitting on the couch, legs crossed, with a tablet balanced on their lap to either work on reports or stalk Candela’s Instagram feed. As the Professor ventured closer, he realized they were doing neither. They had a report open on the screen, but their attention was on Merle.

Merle was kneeling on the opposite side of the coffee table from Grisaille, their back to Blanche. There were scattered pieces of printer paper and markers in front of them. Another couple steps, and Willow realized that the child was drawing very grisly pictures. Merle was no artist, so it was hard to tell, but their current picture appeared to be of someone getting their arm bitten off by an Arcanine. They were colouring the rest of their drawing with a bright red marker. The excess ink pooled on the page like blood.

Willow shared an uneasy glance with Blanche. “Did something happen today?” he asked.

“The swimming lesson went well,” they said in the same tone they used to deliver presentations at work: dry, distant, and monotonous. Not a good sign. “Grisaille has more experience in the water, though not necessarily more comfort as their past experiences were not pleasant. Merle has no experience at all and needs to be taught how to properly hold their breath. I recommend regular swimming lessons until they achieve proficiency in the water, at minimum.”

“All right. And?” Willow prompted, since that didn’t answer the question.

Blanche glanced at the back of Merle’s head. The child gave no sign that they noticed or cared that the adults were talking about them like they weren’t in the room. In precise tones, Blanche recited what had happened when Merle saw Candela’s Arcanine. “Grisaille seems to have recovered from the fright, but Merle...”

They both watched as Merle set their completed drawing aside and pulled a fresh piece of paper from the pile. With every appearance of calm, they began to draw. The image took form. This time the Arcanine was chewing on the head of its hapless victim.

“I know I have not spent much time with Merle lately, but... is this normal behaviour for them?” Blanche asked.

Slowly, Willow shook his head. “We’re careful about their exposure to pokemon, but I’ve never seen them do this before,” he said. “Have you tried asking them?”

“They won’t talk to me about it. Perhaps they’ll talk to you, Professor. They like you better.”

Willow didn’t think that was necessarily true. Merle had never seemed to be particularly fond of him despite his best efforts to connect with them. Still, he knelt on the floor next to the child. “Hey, Merle. What are you drawing?” he asked.

“You know what I am drawing. You were discussing it with Blanche,” Merle replied.

“Okay. Why is that Arcanine biting that poor man’s head off?”

“Because that is what they do. They eat people.”

“I’ve never heard of an Arcanine eating someone before,” Willow said. He glanced back at Blanche, who continued to look distressed. “Have you?”

Blanche looked like they were about to answer, but Merle, clearly thinking the Professor was talking to them, answered instead. “No, but I know it is true. Sparrow said so, and Sparrow doesn’t lie. Not to me.”

“Sparrow saw an Arcanine eat someone?” Willow asked.

“No. An Arcanine tried to eat Sparrow. They had scars.”

Willow was starting to understand. “Merle, did Sparrow come from Cipher?”

“Yes.”

“Magpie, too?”

“That’s correct.”

Abandoning all pretense, Blanche tossed their tablet aside and stormed into the kitchen. Merle looked up at the movement and watched their older sibling go, biting their lip. “Is Blanche angry with me?” they whispered to Professor Willow, fiddling with the lid of their marker and not meeting his eyes.

“No. They’re upset, but not at you. You keep drawing, and I’ll go see what’s wrong.”

“Yes, sir.”

Willow hated it when they called him sir, but this time he didn’t bother to correct them. As Merle bent over their drawing, he followed Blanche into the kitchen. Blanche was sitting on the countertop, rolling an apple between their palms. “I don’t know why it upsets me so much,” Blanche said before Willow could speak. “I guessed all along. I mean, it only makes sense, right? How else could Merle have escaped from Cipher, unless someone helped them? And how else could they lose their family all at once, except for Cipher coming to reclaim them? It was obvious.”

Willow hadn’t quite drawn that conclusion before. He wondered if Sabrina had. He suspected so. “Do you think they’re really dead? Merle’s old family?” he asked.

“Merle seems certain, and I believe that they would know best,” Blanche replied.

They both looked up as the window rattled. The wind had picked up. Willow got closer to peer out the window, and saw the trees that lined the street swaying and shaking in the gale. As he watched, the sky opened up and rain sheeted down, bouncing as it struck the street. Within seconds, everything was drenched.

The power went out.

The house went dead quiet. The refrigerator stopped humming, and the children in the living room stopped their quiet conversation. The only sounds were the howling of the wind and the rain drumming on the roof.

“What’s Spark done now?” Blanche asked irritably, sliding off the counter and joining Professor Willow at the window. Their scowl deepened when they saw the weather. The wind was blowing so hard that the rain was falling sideways.

Willow smiled in spite of himself. “Not all storms are Spark’s fault,” he pointed out.

“Perhaps so, but this was not in the weather report.”

“Professor?” a small voice asked from the doorway. Grisaille had padded in without them hearing and was staring at the adults with huge eyes. “It has become very dark and the lights do not work.”

“Yes. The power’s gone out,” Willow explained.

“Where did it go?” Grisaille asked.

It took Willow a second to see the connection between what he’d said and Grisaille’s question. The child spoke English so well now that he sometimes forgot that they had only started to learn it relatively recently. “Sorry. I mean there’s a power outage. Because of the storm.” He gestured to the window just as a bolt of lightning split the sky. A moment later there was a boom of thunder, and a small yip from the living room.

Merle darted into the kitchen, eyes wide. They stopped next to Grisaille and stared mutely at the Professor and Blanche. They flinched at the next crash of thunder, and glanced around uneasily. Grisaille reached out and clasped their hand, though Merle didn’t look comforted. Neither child liked the dark or loud, sudden noises. This was going to be a long night.

“Grisaille, in the drawer to your left there’s a couple flashlights. Can you pull them out, please?” Willow asked.

The child obeyed, rooting around in the dark until they came up with two flashlights, which they held out to Willow. He took one and indicated for them to keep the other. “You and Merle help Blanche find the candles in the hall closet. I’ll see what I can rustle up for dinner that doesn’t need to be cooked, okay?”

Neither child looked like they wanted to be separated from him, but they had been given instructions. They had to follow instructions. They trailed after Blanche, who reached into the top of the closet where they knew Willow kept his box of mismatched candles. People tended to give them to him as gifts, but he had no interest in the things and so threw them in a box in his closet until he actually needed them.

As he rustled through cupboards for quick, easy foods that could be prepared in the minimal light of a flashlight and without electricity, he heard Blanche rooting around in the hall closet. “Grisaille, hold the flashlight while I pull down the box. Merle, I think there are matches in the kitchen. Can you go ask the Professor?”

Within twenty minutes, lit candles had been placed in every room. Grisaille had made a tidy arrangement in the middle of the table of three candles of varying heights, which actually looked quite pretty. Willow had put together a meal of yoghurt, cheese, crackers, and sliced fruit.

After the meal, the children darted off with the flashlights to get ready for bed. Blanche gravitated to the front window, frowning at the rain. “You can stay over if you want,” Willow offered. “I’m sure Grisaille wouldn’t object to the company. They hate storms.”

Blanche seemed to consider for a moment. “...All right. I will have to ask them and make sure it’s okay,” they said. They had no desire to go out in the cold and wet if they did not have to.

As predicted, Grisaille was thrilled to have Blanche over for a sleepover. They even offered to share their bed. Willow loaned them some pyjamas, oblivious to Blanche’s light blush as they accepted the clothes with a murmured thank you.

Merle had not emerged from their room. Willow tapped on their bedroom door. It remained closed, and no response came from within. He murmured goodnight and went to his own room to sleep.

##

Merle woke from a nightmare in the dark. They sat upright in a panic, fumbling in the blankets tangled around their waist. Their light was out, so the electricity must not have come back on. They needed their flashlight. Where was it?

Shadows on the walls loomed over them like grotesque monsters, mouths wide and dripping. Merle swallowed back a sob. There was no point in crying. Tears accomplished nothing, and could get a subject whipped. They scrabbled free of their bedding and passed a quick hand over their bedside table. The flashlight wasn’t there. They needed light to fight the monsters, even though they knew the monsters were not real.

They wished desperately for Sabrina, who could make the monsters disappear with a hug and a few soothing words. But Sabrina was not here, and they were alone.

Thunder crashed somewhere overhead. Merle flinched at the sound. Breathing shallowly through their mouth, they wrapped their blanket around them like armour. With one arm, they clutched one of their cuddling pillows to their chest like a shield. Silly little comforts, they thought as they eased their bedroom door open. Not real protection.

They glanced quickly back and forth. Their courage nearly failed them when they saw the shadows cast by trees on the walls, their branches like gnarled, elongated fingers whipping wildly in the wind. With a deep breath, Merle ventured out into the hall. They darted quickly across it and tapped nervously on Grisaille’s door with their fingertips. It didn’t have to be loud. Grisaille would hear them, and they didn’t want anything else to.

“Yes?” Grisaille’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, alert despite the late hour. Merle knew that Grisaille would snap awake at the slightest sound, just as they did.

Merle eased the door open and poked their head inside. Instantly, there was some relief. Grisaille had put their lit flashlight on the nightstand with the bulb aimed at the ceiling, and there was a dim glow cast over the room. Grisaille was sitting up in bed, looking at Merle expectantly.

“Grisaille, may I- Oh. Hello, Blanche,” they said, jolting from pleading to formal as Blanche sat up next to Grisaille, rubbing their eyes. No one had told them that Blanche was sleeping over, and it took them a moment to recover from their surprise.

“Hi, Merle,” Blanche said quietly. Their eyes dimmed when they scanned Merle’s face and realized that the child wasn’t pleased to find them there.

Why was Blanche here? Merle shifted from foot to fit, glancing behind them at the dark hallway. They had left their bedroom door open, and it was as dark as the opening of a cave and just as uninviting. They didn’t want to go back, but they didn’t want to be around Blanche while they were vulnerable, either. It was mortifying enough that they had cried all over Blanche earlier-

Thunder boomed, closer this time, and Merle yipped. They hunched their shoulders and burrowed their face in their pillow so that Blanche and Grisaille wouldn’t see the tears. They were light-headed with terror, and nearly screamed when the small hands landed on their shoulders. Grisaille’s hands were gentle, fingers fluttering lightly. Like Butterfree wings, except not terrifying.

“Merle, what do you need?” Grisaille asked. Their voice sounded thin, like leaving the safety of their bed frightened them. But they had done it anyway, to go to Merle.

“May I sleep on your floor?” Merle asked. They were too ashamed to lift their head, but went willingly when Grisaille tugged on their arm.

“Of course.”

Grisaille sat on the edge of the bed while Merle set up their blankets and wormed inside until only their eyes were poking out. “Bonne nuit- Oof!” Grisaille landed on top of them, blankets included.

“My apologies,” Grisaille said, quickly rolling away and settling next to Merle on the floor. Grisaille arranged their blankets neatly over their legs. It gave Merle some relief to see that their hands were trembling too. Merle wasn’t the only one who was scared. “I think we will feel safer with more of us.”

Blanche was already sliding off the bed and settling on their other side. “If you do not mind,” they murmured when Merle looked at them.

Instead of answering, Merle burrowed under their blankets and tucked themself against Blanche’s side. Blanche wasn’t warm and comforting, but they were cool and soft. One of their arms draped cautiously around Merle, while Grisaille squirmed up against Merle’s back. The storm was still scary. It was much too scary for Merle to fall asleep. But they felt safer now, and they waited for the wind and the thunder to end with their face burrowed in Blanche’s shoulder.

When Willow went to rouse the siblings for breakfast in the morning, he found them tangled together on the floor. They all looked exhausted, so he closed the door quietly without disturbing them. They looked like they could use an extra hour.

Chapter Text

“Charles! How could you?”

“It was an accident, Miss Candela.”

“You have to put them away! The kids will be here any minute!”

“Working on it, Miss Candela.”

Horrified was an understatement. Candela didn’t have a word to describe the feeling that churned in her stomach as she eyed the round balls of green feathers. Natu, everywhere she looked. The Daves, everyone in the Go Program called them, since Charles apparently could not be bothered to give them individual names. They stared at her with their huge, unblinking eyes. She thought they were creepy. She could vividly imagine what Merle and Grisaille would think.

Merle and Grisaille, who would be here any minute.

Today was a national holiday in Opal. Outside, there were street stalls and a parade, outdoor concerts, and other attractions. In deference to Merle and Grisaille, their weird little “family” would be celebrating inside where it was quieter and there were less pokemon.

Well, there was supposed to be less pokemon.

“Why did you even bring them?” Candela cried in despair, chasing a quintet of Daves out of the bathroom with a broom while Carl calmly returned all the Natu he came across to their pokeballs.

“One never knows when one might need an army of Daves, Miss Candela,” Carl replied.

Smartass. Candela seized the Dave that was trying to drown two of its compatriots in the sink and lobbed it at Carl’s head. He deftly returned it to its pokeball before it could make contact with his face.

“The only thing your Natu might be good for is pecking Rocket to death,” Candela said, still miffed that they had been invited. Not just Noire, but Sabrina and Amelie as well. She wished she had known that before she had agreed to host the party in one of Valor’s large conference rooms.

Not that she wouldn’t do anything for Blanche, Grisaille, and Merle, but a little warning would have been nice!

“Woooooah!” drawled a voice that could only be Spark. He and Go stopped in the doorway, gaping at the Natu everywhere.

Candela whirled on them, still wielding the broom in one hand while the other clutched a wet Natu, which she brandished at the boys. “You two! Hurry up and help! The Professor-”

“Oh no.”

Too late.

“Hey Professor,” Candela said, dropping the Natu as she turned toward him. It hit the ground with a wet plop. “We’re, uh, having some difficulties. Grisaille can wait outside if they want,” she added, catching the look in Grisaille’s huge eyes. “We’ll have the Daves- I mean, the Natu, cleared out soon.”

Willow was already backing toward the door, keeping Grisaille behind him. “I think we’ll do that,” he began.

“Holy shit!” Great. Just who she didn’t want to see.

“Fuck off, Rocket,” she snapped, showing teeth.

“Candela, don’t swear in front of the kids!”

“Merle has heard worse, I assure you,” Sabrina said, breezing past Noire and Merle in that smug way she had. She glanced around in some amusement. “Interesting decor,” she remarked, staring pointedly at the heap of wet feathers at Candela’s feet. Dave hadn’t moved since Candela dropped it. It might be dead.

Merle let go of Noire’s hand and approached the sodden Dave, bending down to inspect it. “Candela, has this Natu suffered an injury?” Merle asked, nudging the pokemon with a foot. Dave twitched feebly.

“I think it’s just wet, darling,” Candela assured them, relieved that the Natu at least hadn’t died in front of the kids.

“I see.” With no further warning, Merle bent further and seized the Natu by the leg. Candela opened her mouth to protest as Dave dangled feebly. “I will go dry it off,” Merle announced. They padded into the bathroom that Candela had vacated. The air dryer in the bathroom roared to life. Stunned, Candela pushed the bathroom door open and stared as Merle held the Natu gingerly in both hands under the blasting air.

“Darling?”

“Yes, Miss Candela?” Merle spoke loudly to be heard over the dryer.

“Take it out every few seconds so that it can breathe.”

“Oh! Yes. I will do that. Thank you, Miss Candela.” Merle removed the pokemon from the dryer and frowned down at it, waiting for it to show signs of life. It twitched. Satisfied, they shoved it back under the dryer, which roared back to life.

Candela let the bathroom door fall closed, muffling the sound.

“Is it safe to leave Merle closed in with a pokemon?” Willow asked.

“It’s fine. Dave is in no condition to hurt them. And anyway, Merle likes round things,” Candela assured him.

While she was busy, Annie and Amelie had both arrived, frowning at each other as they tried to decide who should go through the door first. Grisaille and the twins had gravitated toward the snacks. Candela could hear the twins arguing.

“Blanche! Don’t put that back!”

“I do not want it.”

“You’ve taken a bite out of it!”

“I have confirmed that it is not poisoned.”

“You don’t need to check them for poison. The only person here the bitch would poison is me. Blanche, stop taking bites out of everything!”

While they were distracted, Candela lured Grisaille away with the promise of a game of chess. The child liked strategy games. As they were finishing their game, and before the twins had finished their argument, Merle emerged from the bathroom with a very fluffy (and presumably dry) Natu. They kept the Natu cupped in their hands as they looked around. They spotted Carl in the same place he could always be find at a party: planted firmly next to the supply of alcohol.

At least he’d finished collecting his Natu before he drank himself into a stupor. He looked up as Merle approached. Merle held out the Natu for him to take, which he did, poking experimentally at the puffed up feathers. “Is it dead?” he asked.

“No. It is breathing,” Merle assured him.

Carl returned the Natu to its pokeball, and Merle darted off. They passed the twins at the refreshment table, dodging as Blanche and Noire attempted to grab them and feed them chocolate truffles. They circled around the entire room, and eventually plunked themself down next to Candela. “What are you two doing?” Merle asked.

“We just finished up a game of chess,” Candela said, ruffling their hair. For once they didn’t move away. “How about you play a game with Grisaille while I break up the fight over there?” Over at the refreshment table, Blanche had seized one of Noire’s pigtails and was smashing a cherry tart into Noire’s face.

Merle was skeptical. “You don’t usually break up fights. You make them bigger.”

Candela had already moved out of earshot and so didn’t hear that comment. Merle turned to Grisaille, choosing to ignore the heightened sounds of violence behind them. “Shall we play?”

Grisaille nodded and set up the pieces. They took a black pawn and a white pawn in their hands and shuffled them under the table. With a piece tucked out of sight in each hand, they held out both fists to Merle, who tapped the left one. Grisaille opened their left hand to reveal the black pawn, and Merle rotated the chessboard so that the black pieces were on their own side.

They played for several moments without speaking, before Grisaille broke the silence.

“What did your Magpie call you?” Grisaille asked without preamble.

Merle looked perplexed. “...Merle, usually?” they said in a tone that suggested they weren’t sure what Grisaille meant. “That’s the name they gave me.”

Grisaille scooted forward until they were on the very edge of their chair. Their head tilted as their eyes locked on Merle’s face with interest. “Magpie chose your name? You did not choose if for yourself?”

For their part, Merle seemed more interested in the chessboard than in the conversation. They rested their chin on both hands while they considered both the question and their next move. “Yes,” they said. “I asked them to name me. No one had ever given me something before, and I wanted something that would make me theirs.” They straightened in their chair, picking up their knight and moving it decisively to a new position on the board. “Though they do call me a bunch of other things, too.”

“What kind of things?” Grisaille said. A small furrow appeared between their brows as they deliberated the best way to counter Merle’s play.

Merle was back to leaning on their hand, though this time their head was twisted sideways and their hand was buried in their hair as they watched Grisaille think. “Oh, well...” they said, voice trailing off as they thought. “It’s like how Blanche and Noire call me mon petit chouchou. It’s not my name, but they call me that out of affection. Magpie does that a lot.”

“Like pet names?” Grisaille made their move, claiming one of Merle’s remaining pawns, though Merle didn’t seem too bothered by it.

Noire abandoned all pretense and was openly watching the pair, though they didn’t release their death grip on Blanche’s hair as the other tried to squirm free.

“Yes,” Merle said. Starting to lose interest in the game, they moved a piece at random. “Bibi, most often.”

Grisaille abandoned the game with some regret, knowing that there was no point in continuing now that Merle had stopped taking it seriously. “Bibi?” they asked.

Merle nodded. “Short for Baby Bird or Blackbird. Or both, maybe.”

“Because your name means blackbird,” Grisaille said.

“Yes.”

Grisaille glanced over at the refreshment table and frowned. As Merle had predicted, Candela had not broken up the fight and a three-way food fight was in progress. “Does it bother you that Noire and Blanche are fighting? They promised you that they wouldn’t do it in front of you anymore.”

Merle followed Grisaille gaze and shrugged. “That’s all right,” they said. “They are only making each other sticky. There is no harm in that.”

##

It took Willow several minutes to realize that Sabrina had vanished. He frowned, looking around. Candela, Noire, and Blanche were throwing pudding at each other at the refreshments table. He didn’t want to deal with that, but Annie was heading that way, probably to defend Blanche. Spark and Go were in another corner, doing something incomprehensible that involved plastic cups and a piece of string. Amelie and Carl had challenged each other to a drinking game, and both looked sloshed. But Sabrina was nowhere in sight.

Willow was just deciding that she must have gone to the washroom when she appeared in the doorway and beckoned. Her expression was grim enough to have him setting his drink aside and rushing after her as she disappeared into the hallway.

“Sabrina, what is it?” he asked when he found her standing at the end of the hall. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her cellphone was tucked into one hand. “What’s wrong?” Because something was. It was written all over her face.

“My undercover agents in Orre finally made contact,” Sabrina said. “It’s bad news. They’ve confirmed that there’s a lab. Not only that, but there’s going to be a mass cull of experiments within the next week. We have to get ready to move in on it if we want to save any of the children.”

“I’ll go tell the others,” Willow said, starting to turn back to the party. Sabrina stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait.” When he turned back to look at her, she released him and looked troubled. “I don’t want to alarm the kids. If we mention this in front of them, Merle and Grisaille will panic.”

Willow raked a hand through his hair. “All right. Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “How much time will we have?”

“At least two days, but no more than that. My agents say that Cipher’s scientists are still sorting through the subjects, marking which ones to keep and which ones to cull. But it won’t take them more than two days.”

“Okay. I’ll make a few phone calls to get things in place. How many children are we talking here?”

“Axel thinks fifty.”

“Arceus,” Willow swore. “I don’t know if we have the resources to make so many children disappear, even if we succeed at saving them.” He caught the look she sent him and held up a hand. “But we’ll try. Of course we’ll try.”

Neither one of them returned to the party. They stayed in the hallway making their separate phone calls so that they would be ready to move tomorrow morning.

Chapter Text

“Sabrina, don’t leave me!”

Sabrina stood in the living room of one of Rocket’s safe houses, attempting to pry Merle off her. Their arms and legs were wrapped tightly around her body. She struggled under their weight as she fought free. “Merle, you need to stop. Merle, let go,” she scolded.

She was dimly aware of Willow talking quietly to Grisaille, who was sitting on the couch looking pale and withdrawn.

“Why do I have to stay with him? Can’t I stay with Noire?” Merle pleaded, climbing up her back when she dislodged them from her front.

The weight knocked her forward and she struggled not to fall on her face. “Merle!” she snapped, angry despite herself. “Noire is coming with me. So is Amelie. They won’t be here to look after you.”

“Blanche could take care of me!” The fact that Merle said it was a testament to their desperation. Merle still wasn’t comfortable around Blanche and wouldn’t normally volunteer to be left with them.

“Blanche is going to a conference with Professor Willow. They won’t be in the city.” Sabrina and Willow had agreed not to tell the children the truth about where they were going, and Sabrina was glad. Merle was upset, yes, but they would be hysterical if they knew the truth. To Merle, Cipher was where horrors happened and loved ones died.

“Miss Candela? Or Leader Spark?”

Sabrina yanked Merle over her shoulder and dumped them on the couch, panting. They were a tenacious little shit. She would have been proud of them if she weren’t so irritated.

Merle stared up at her with wet eyes, but didn’t try to grab her again. “Please don’t leave me with a stranger,” they whispered.

Willow was kneeling in front of Grisaille, trying to soothe them without success. At Merle’s plea, he turned and smiled at them. “He’s not a stranger. Guzma is my brother, and he’ll take good care of you. You can think of him as an uncle, if that helps,” he said. It hadn’t made Grisaille feel better, but maybe it would help Merle.

“But I don’t kno-o-o-o-o-ow him!” Merle wailed, covering their face with their arms as they burst into fresh tears.

Guzma, who had been watching the scene from across the room, came over to place a heavy hand on Sabrina and Willow’s shoulders. “I think you’re making it worse, dragging it out,” he said. “Get going. I’ll deal.”

“But...” Willow said, looking helplessly from Merle, who was weeping, to Grisaille, who hadn’t moved or made a sound in the last 20 minutes.

“They’ll be fine. Go.”

They went, but it was hard to tell who felt worse about it, Sabrina or Willow.

##

Both adults brooded about the children during the entire flight to Orre. Once the group landed and boarded the transport that would take them to the lab, however, they had to push those thoughts aside and focus on the task ahead of them.

The Team Leaders, their assistants, and the agents from Team Rocket had been briefed on the ride over. They parked the vehicles in a clearing far enough away from the lab site to afford them some privacy. Agents Axel and Abril, the undercover operatives from Team Rocket who had been monitoring the lab over the past months, met them there.

“Executive Sabrina,” Axel said, stepping forward to shake her hand. “Professor Willow. Thank you for coming so quickly. I trust the trip was uneventful?”

“It was, yes,” Sabrina said.

“Have your men been briefed?” Axel asked, stepping back as his partner came forward to shake hands with everyone. Maybe it was Willow’s imagination, but Abril seemed to stare a moment too long at each of the twins before moving on to the next person.

“Yes. What’s the current status?” Willow asked.

Abril dragged her eyes away from Blanche long enough to answer. “We have to move immediately. They began the culling ten minutes ago, so some lives have already been lost. A security blip earlier caused some delay, but not enough.”

“A blip?”

“One of the motion sensors around the lab was set off an hour ago. After investigating, Cipher’s security agents determined that it was most likely a wild pokemon.”

“Where do you want us, Executive?” Axel asked, turning to Sabrina.

“Agent Axel, you will be assisting Candela with a frontal assault on the lab,” Sabrina said, indicating Candela and Carl with a gesture. “While Cipher’s soldiers go out to fight you, Agent Abril will guide the rest of us through one of the service doors.”

Abril was nodding, but Axel looked concerned. “It might be better to be more covert,” he cautioned. “An assault will trigger the alarms and internal defence mechanisms. That would increase the risk to the children.”

“The children are already at risk. We are hoping to divert some attention away from them,” Sabrina said.

“We also need to ensure that Blanche and Noire are not captured,” Abril murmured, eyeing them. “Those are two prizes that Cipher would be very eager to get their hands on again.”

Blanche and Noire stared back at her coldly, but didn’t reply. Both would rather die than be captured.

The group separated, Candela giving Blanche a thump on the back as she passed them. Oddly reassured, Blanche murmured for her to be careful, but she was already moving swiftly out of sight.

The remaining team followed Abril on a difficult trek over overgrown pokemon trails that had fallen into disuse when the local pokemon population learned to avoid the area around the human building.

Abril guided them through a slit in an electric fence after Spark deactivated the current that ran through it. They had just caught a glimpse of the lab through the trees when the sky lit up with fire. Smoke billowed from the other side of the lab. An alarm blared over the sound of people shouting, and the guards between them and the lab glanced over their shoulders uneasily, but held their positions.

“Guess it’s not going to be that easy,” Spark murmured.

“We can handle a few guards,” Noire sneered, and launched forward. The first guard didn’t have time to react before Noire shot him. The second guard might have landed a blow, but Spark hit him with a blast of lightning that sent the man flying. He hit the ground, convulsing.

Abril barely spared either of the downed guards a glance as she ran by them and quickly coded in through the back door. “Come on, come one, quickly!” she hissed as the others darted by her through the doorway. Willow remained back at the clearing with assorted medics and soldiers to cover the others’ escape and provide care to the children they were hoping to save.

##

Deep within the lab, the assassin and the soldier froze in their search as the alarms began screeching. A robotic voice warned of fire and advised all personnel to evacuate.

“Do you know what’s happening?” the soldier whispered to their companion in their native tongue, French.

The assassin paused for a moment, listening, then shook their head. With a gesture, they called the soldier to their side, and the two of them slid inside an empty subject holding cell as two scientists raced by.

“Is it my fault for triggering the sensor earlier?” the soldier asked once the scientists were gone.

The assassin shook their head, but didn’t speculate. “I hear more footsteps. We have to leave,” they said, looking around with regret. They hadn’t completed their goal of scouting out the building. They hadn’t found what they were looking for, or even determined if it was here. Now they wouldn’t be able to. It would be impossible to sneak undetected through the laboratory now that the alarms were going off and Cipher personnel were pouring out of doorways. Even now, a mixed group of scientists and guards were running toward them.

The assassin drew a wickedly sharp knife from the array of sheaths on their belt. Behind them, the soldier drew their gun. The assassin shook their head, and the soldier switched the gun for their metal bat. They would keep to stealth until it was no longer an option.

Once the group had passed, the pair stepped through the doorway as one. They followed the running footsteps ahead of them to the only emergency exit in this quadrant. But they misjudged how much faster they were than the scientists, who were only average humans. They rounded a corner and ran right into the group, to several cries of surprise and alarm, which received answering calls from deeper in the lab.

“Shit, it’s you!” one of the scientists exclaimed, recognition in her eyes. The assassin recognized her as well, and felt no regret as their blade dragged across her throat. She collapsed as her blood sprayed over them.

Another scientist swung a punch at them, but he was not a fighting man and there was more panic than force in the blow. Another slash, and his body tumbled on top of the woman’s.

The soldier was finishing off the last of the guards, the other two already sprawled at their feet. As the last one fell, the assassin tried the door of the emergency exit, but it was too late. It seemed someone had had enough time to key in the intruder alert, and all exits below ground were sealed. If they had time, the assassin would be able to break through the seal on the door, but they could already hear more enemies approaching. They would have to fight their way to ground level and find a working exit. There had to be one - the scientists, guards, and support staff that kept the lab running needed to evacuate somehow.

The route up was gruesome and bloody. At several points the pair passed child subjects, somehow gotten loose and forgotten in the panic, cowering in corners and under lab benches. The children knew better than to cry or scream, and watched in mute terror as the soldier and assassin cut a bloody swath through Cipher.

The assassin wanted to help the children, the poor wounded souls who would be left down here to perish in the flames that burned through the lab. They couldn’t afford to stop, though. They recognized the look creeping into the soldier’s eyes, the disconnect between brain and body that signaled that their companion was on the brink of going berserk.

’Please let us make it out before I lose them,’ the assassin thought, cutting down the next person in their path. Odd. There was something odd about this latest opponent. The assassin had raced up the next stairwell before they realized what it was. The clothes were wrong. Instead of Cipher’s lab coats and tight-fitting battle gear, the man had been wearing a black uniform with a letter R emblazoned in bright red across the front.

What was Team Rocket doing here?

There were more Team Rocket agents the farther up they climbed, and the assassin realized that Team Rocket seemed to be trying to get the children out. Not enemies, then. Realizing this, the assassin let them be, but there was no stopping the soldier. Their self had almost completely retreated now, and they shot anyone who appeared in their path. They still retained enough awareness not to shoot their companion, but it was only a matter of time before that last shred of sanity failed them too.

They reached the ground floor, entering an open area and absolute pandemonium.

Here was the fire the alarms had promised, not spread too far yet but filling the room with smoky haze. The assassin grabbed the soldier’s arm to keep them from charging off, and stopped to get their bearings. It was hard to see through the smoke. Where was the exit? Were there windows?

To their left a great battle was taking place. Multiple Team Rocket agents were battling a platoon of Cipher’s elite soldiers, former experiments who had grown to adulthood and were now a significant threat. The assassin eased the soldier the opposite way. Cipher seemed to be losing, but they didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

One of the fighters turned, and the assassin froze, dropping their hand from the soldier’s arm with the shock of recognition. The soldier raced off to engage the enemy, and the assassin was left staring at a whirling figure.

’I know you,’ they thought, staring. The person was an excellent fighter of the assassin’s height, with long white hair bound in two pigtails. They were wearing a red coat over Team Rocket black, but the toxic magenta of the Shadow Corruption Program shone even through their clothes.

The Blanche, Beast of Orre, froze when their eyes met, shock rippling across their face.

The assassin knew who they were instantly.

A gun clicked behind them, ready to fire. The assassin glanced back at the source of the sound. They were not the target.

Their two intense driving forces collided inside them, numbing them to everything around them.

Family.

Protect.

They stepped between the Blanche and the gun, barely registering the pain as the bullets punched into them. They staggered, and their vision swam.

Two of their siblings screamed as the assassin crumpled to the floor.

Chapter Text

Noire and Spark proved as trigger happy as Sabrina had feared, though Blanche showed no mercy either. Spark blasted his way forward, leaving a trail of mangled Cipher agents behind him. Three Team Rocket squadrons followed him into the stairwell that lead into the proper part of the lab, all below ground. What was above ground was just for show. If anyone happened to come across this place, they wanted it to appear legitimate. All the atrocities happened below ground.

Sabrina shot down a Cipher guard who was aiming at Blanche, covering them as they disappeared down the stairwell after Spark. Annie was hot on their tail, shouting into her communicator while she guarded their back. Even as their people disappeared into the lab, Cipher personnel came pouring out of hidden emergency stairwells. Most of these were not combatants but a mix of scientists, assistants, and miscellaneous support staff. Noire and Candela remained above ground and showed no mercy to those who could not fight. Each and every person who worked in the lab was part of the disease that was Cipher. Sabrina agreed that they had to be eradicated.

It was impossible to keep track of the passage of time. The floor was littered with bodies when Spark returned to the surface with his group. Ten children ran close together, barely visible between the tight phalanx of Rocket agents. Spark brought them out of the lab and hopefully to safety. Sabrina couldn’t track their progress; a man who was a strange mess of human and Nidoking features dove off a mezzanine toward her. She shot him out of the air and he landed hard enough to dent the floor. She shot him again, but he got up and charged her.

Noire flashed between them, attacking the recombinant DNA experiment while Amelie moved in front of Sabrina. Noire moved on to their next opponent, leaving the man sprawled on the floor in a growing puddle of blood.

Blanche reached the surface as Noire began hacking their way through a newly-arrived group of guards. Blanche guided the children in single file along the wall until they reached the exterior doors and disappeared. The worst part was that the children didn’t seem at all alarmed by the blood and bodies everywhere. This was normal to them.

She saw Noire’s attention shift from the enemies. They froze as the battle raged around them, leaving them untouched for now. She couldn’t see what they were staring at from where she had taken refuge behind a pillar to catch her breath, but she did see the Cipher soldier lining up their shot through the haze.

“Noire, look out!” she shouted. Her voice couldn’t carry through the sounds of battle to reach them.

A dark figure with a long white ponytail stepped between Noire and the gunman. Their body jolted as the bullets struck home. They fell and lay still, crumpled and strangely pathetic.

‘Blanche,’ she thought as Noire screamed and dove for the fallen figure.

She didn’t realize she was running until she had to leap over a body. The gunman was still there, lining up another shot. This time there was no way to shield Noire, who had dropped to their knees next to the person who had saved them. Not Blanche, some part of her mind realized, even as she aimed at the gunman. She never got a chance to fire.

There was an ear-shattering howl of rage that rose and rose until it was all Sabrina could hear, and a soldier in dark grey burst through the smoke and swung a blunt instrument at the gunman. The gun dropped from his hands as his skull was smashed in, and the soldier raised their weapon and brought it down again and again even when the gunman fell and lay still. Another threat loomed up behind them and the soldier spun and smashed them with equal ferocity, still howling.

They were screaming words. Those words were aimed at Noire. “Don’t touch them! Don’t touch them!” They charged at Noire, who realized too late and would have taken a savage blow to the head if a bolt of lightning hadn’t arced between them and sent the soldier sailing through the air. The weapon was torn from their hand as they hit the unforgiving polished concrete and rolled.

Spark had returned, bringing with him the fury of his Titan.

Unbelievably, the soldier was struggling to their feet. No human should have been able to move after a blow like that, not unless they were Titan-bonded or possessed a reinforced body like Noire. Sabrina was close enough now to see that the soldier also had white hair and brown skin, though their hair was short and appeared to be shaved close to the skull on one side.

They flung themself at Spark, reclaiming their bat along the way. Sabrina didn’t pause to watch the fight. She had reached Noire, and dropped to her knees next to them.

Noire had pulled off their red coat and was pressing it against the fallen figure’s chest to stem the blood. Sabrina’s heart constricted. They still looked like Blanche up close. They still looked like Noire.

Fuck, what had Cipher done?

“Auntie, I can’t get the blood to stop,” Noire panted. Their voice was thin, and when Sabrina looked over she saw that their eyes had gone glassy from shock. “I think the bullets exploded inside them. Auntie, I think they’re going to die.”

They never called her Auntie except in private.

“Keep the pressure on,” she ordered. “Press as hard as you can. Don’t be afraid of hurting them. It’s too late for that.”

Around them the sounds of battle were dying down as the lab was defeated. Sabrina had no idea if all of the children had been removed yet. That would have to be done. But before that...

She paged Willow. “I need you to move in,” she ordered. She spoke over any questions as she continued. “We haven’t rescued all of the children, but we have a casualty. I need you to assign someone to take over getting all the children we’ve removed from the facility to safety. I’m passing you an injured stranger and a captive,” she glanced over to where Spark had restrained the bloody, cursing grey-clad soldier by kneeling on their back and pinning their hands behind them. At least he had won that encounter. “I’ll keep the operation going here.”

“Sabrina, what’s going on?” he demanded when he could finally get a word in.

“You’ll understand when you get here. But hurry. There’s no time, and we won’t be forgiven if they die.”

She severed the connection.

##

Willow did understand. She saw it in his face when he stepped inside the ruin and saw what they were gathered around.

Blanche had stopped dead when bringing up their next group of children. Their attention had automatically been drawn to where their twin was, as it had dozens of times during this mission, and they saw what was lying motionless on the floor and what was still struggling in Spark’s hold.

Without a word exchanged, Annie took charge of the group of children and ushered them out of the building while Blanche walked slowly over and sank to the ground next to Sabrina.

“Who are they?” they whispered, staring down at the face so like their own.

“We don’t know yet. Hopefully they’ll live long enough for us to find out,” Sabrina replied, watching Willow approach at a run.

He took charge of the situation swiftly, ordering a stretcher to bear the unconscious figure away and for a helicopter to land outside and be ready to take them to the hospital to stabilize. There was a Rocket-affiliated hospital even in Orre. Sabrina had thought it was a good investment after the mission that had acquired the twins, and it had come in handy on several occasions since then.

The soldier howled again and writhed in Spark’s hold as the group of medics approached. By some miracle, they managed to knock him back enough to wiggle free. They were on their feet and running before he had fully regained his balance, and he leaped to his feet and chased them.

“Noire! Blanche! Incoming!” he bellowed, realizing that he wasn’t going to intercept the soldier in time.

Blanche spun, braced for a fight, but the soldier passed them without so much as a glance. They flung themself across the prone body of their sibling, heedless of the blood. Their arms wrapped tightly around the injured body, trying to protect their sibling from further harm.

“No, no, no. Don’t touch them - don’t take them - they don’t belong to you!” they wailed at the medics in French, striking out when anyone came too close. Sabrina was forced to back off. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! Don’t hurt them. Noooooooo!”

Their voice rose to a shriek as Spark hauled them off. They lifted their legs and landed a kick on Noire’s shoulder, sending Noire sprawling. Tears streamed down the soldier’s face, which was twisted with fury and fear. Spark slammed them to the ground and pinned them down with his body. “Hurry,” he urged. “They’re super strong.” The soldier continued to scream threats and profanity. Spark grunted as an elbow jabbed him in the ribs, and adjusted his hold so that it wouldn’t happen again.

Noire rolled to their feet and stood between the pinned soldier and the group of medics, who were busily working on the injured lookalike now that the threat had been contained. They glanced back at Blanche, who nodded. Sabrina understood the look. Noire was part of Rocket, and that and their unique skills meant that they would have to stay here and finish what they had started. Noire wanted to go with these people who looked so much like them, but they couldn’t, so they pleaded silently for Blanche to go instead.

Well, Blanche’s presence could be spared, so Sabrina didn’t object when Blanche followed the group of medics bearing the stretcher. The doors slicked shut behind them, and the solider went abruptly silent. Sabrina turned to look, thinking that Spark must have knocked them out. They were indeed limp and unresisting, but they were staring dully at the door through which their sibling had exited.

“Please,” they asked hoarsely. “Please do not take them. I need them.”

Sabrina walked over and bent so that they could see her face clearly. “Your friend needs medical attention,” she said, knowing that friend wasn’t the right word but unable to make any other cross her lips. She thought fast. Impossible to know if she was reading them right, but surely it was worth the risk? “If you are quiet and if you behave yourself, you can go with them.”

The soldier nodded, the longer hair on their right side tangling against the ground with the motion. “Yes, please. I want to go with them.”

“You’ll behave?”

“I swear.”

Sabrina flicked her gaze up to meet Spark’s blue eyes. He was smiling the slightly awkward smile of someone who had no idea what was being said around him and didn’t particularly mind. “They say they won’t fight anymore. Get off them, but slowly. I want to see what they do.”

Spark obeyed, easing himself off while keeping a wary eye on the soldier in case they took the opportunity to attack again. But they lay still until Spark was crouched beside them, and then they rolled gracefully to their feet.

“You’ll go with him,” Sabrina said, pointing to Willow. “But you have to be in restraints. You’ve already attacked two of us.”

The soldier frowned, but nodded.

The soldier waited impatiently while the restraints were fetched and secured to their wrists. They kept glancing to the doors, bouncing with distress as they heard the helicopter approach. Once they were restrained, Willow led them out of the building.

Outside, the beat of the helicopter blades created a brisk wind that made their hair and clothes flutter around them. The injured lookalike had already been loaded on board, and Blanche turned in surprise when Willow and the other lookalike came out.

“We’ll be going with you,” Willow said. Blanche nodded and led the way on board.

It was a large helicopter, and Willow, Blanche, and the soldier were put in a separate compartment than the busy medics. It was too loud for conversation, but the soldier managed to shout one question over the noise.

“Will you tell me if they die?”

They were staring at Blanche, their expression intense. It was like their entire life depended on the answer to that one question.

Blanche met their gaze, then stared straight ahead. They nodded. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

It was impossible to converse in the loud helicopter. During the trip, the soldier seemed to retreat deeper and deeper inside themself. They didn’t seem to realize that the helicopter had landed until Professor Willow placed a hand on their elbow and pulled them to their feet. Their arm was rigid under his fingers. Sabrina would have thought he was foolish for it, but Willow’s heart softened toward them. They must be so scared.

“What is your name?” Blanche asked the soldier as they stood off to the side, watching as the stretcher was unloaded and rushed into the hospital. The soldier attempted to follow it, but Blanche and Willow each grabbed an arm to stop them.

The soldier didn’t answer. They stood still and silent, staring at the doors that their sibling had disappeared through. Blanche repeated the question, but there was still no answer. They looked at the Professor in concern and he stared back, then shrugged.

“You go deal with the doctors and make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll keep an eye on our friend,” he said.

Blanche nodded and gave the soldier a warning look, not trusting them to behave themself in Blanche’s absence. But the soldier just stood there, oblivious to everything as they stared vacantly forward.

“Come on,” Willow said, tugging on the soldier’s arm once Blanche had disappeared through the doors. “Let’s go.”

##

Thirty-two children. That was all they managed to save.

It was with a heavy heart that Sabrina had to admit that the entire facility had been searched and all children removed from the premises, dead or alive. Fourteen were dead, all told. Four were unaccounted for, but Sabrina expected to find them buried beneath the rubble. The building had collapsed in several places, but not because of anything her team had done. One of the children had panicked on seeing the influx of strangers and attempted to blow up a section of the lab. Sabrina watched as that child’s small body was zipped into a body bag before she turned away. There was no shortage of things to do.

Sabrina hadn’t counted on taking charge of the entire mission herself, and certain members of the Go Program were reluctant to take orders from her. Still, she was able to reason with Valor 1 and Valor 2, and the rest of them she intimidated into compliance.

Once the children had been freed, the group loaded the children into transports and took them to a secure location to be examined, treated, and sorted into small groups. These groups would be smuggled out of Orre over the following days and taken to other secure locations in Kanto and Johto for further assessment, treatment, and placement in foster homes or high-security housing, depending on what was deemed most appropriate for the specific child. After all, some of these children were more dangerous than others. Impossible to tell right now which those were.

Abril and Axel would take over that part, and it was with relief that Sabrina left that task in their capable hands. Abril had assisted in raids on Cipher ever since the very first one almost twenty years ago that had rescued the twins. Sabrina had sat in a dark truck beside her, holding Noire in her lap while Abril held Blanche, on that harrowing trip out of Orre. Sabrina remembered that the stocky, serious woman with deadly aim had crooned lullabies to the trembling child in her arms. Axel had joined only a handful of years after that, and was meticulous and ferocious. Both were experienced and could be trusted.

Sabrina’s head was thrumming with exhaustion when she left the building. She had just climbed into a car when Willow called. The clone or sibling, whatever the injured lookalike was, had stabilized enough to be air lifted to Opal. The hospital in Orre wasn’t equipped to deal with the severity of their injuries, and it was doubtful whether they would survive transport.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” she promised, hanging up and making arrangements for Go and Spark to collect Merle and Grisaille from Guzma as soon as their plane touched down in Alola. Grisaille in particular was fond of Spark, and Sabrina thought it would be detrimental to leave either child in the hands of a stranger for longer than necessary. Not to mention that Spark couldn’t make a nuisance of himself if he was babysitting.

##

When they arrived at the hospital, Willow and Blanche bound the lookalike’s arms in front of them with two sets of shackles, one around their wrists and another around their forearms. Even then, Willow wasn’t sure the restraints would hold. The bonds wouldn’t have contained Blanche and Noire, who could have broken out in seconds if they needed to. Willow had to assume that this person had similar strength.

For now they came quietly with their head down and shoulders bowed. They had sobbed the whole trip from Orre, but now their tears were drying on their face as they stared at the ground with dead eyes. Willow wished he could allow them a few minutes to change their clothes and get cleaned up. The ones they were wearing were soaked with their sibling’s blood. Their grey gloves had been dyed red with it, as had the front of their shirt and pants. The other one, the sibling, had been trasnferred to a gurney and raced into surgery as soon as the helicopter landed at the hospital. Even now, the doctors and nurses were fighting to save their life. Willow had been warned that they might not make it, but that the doctors would do their best.

That left this one.

Willow followed the lead of the Rocket agent in front of him, who opened a door and gestured for him and the soldier to go through. Willow went in and gestured for Blanche and Noire’s lookalike to sit in one of the only two chairs in the room. They sat in the chair furthest from the door, laying their bound wrists on the table. Willow took the seat across the table from them, setting a notebook and a pen down on the table so that he could take notes. Behind him armed guards filed into the room and lined the walls, ready to fire should it become necessary. Willow hoped it wouldn’t be, but the soldier had taken a blast of Spark’s lightning and hadn’t stayed down very long. Extreme measures might be necessary.

“What’s your name?” Willow asked after several minutes passed and the person across the table gave no indication that they would speak. He kept his tone light and the words in French, hoping to soothe them into speaking.

The soldier slumped against the back of the chair, staring through him. Their face registered no emotion. They would have looked like a glass-eyed doll if not for the swollen eyes, red from weeping, and their cheeks stained with dried tears and blood.

He tried a few more questions. Where had they come from? How old were they? What was the name of their counterpart who lay on a surgical table upstairs, probably dying?

No answer, even when he repeated the questions in English. Cipher taught all of their experimental subjects French, but maybe this person wasn’t one of those after all. That seemed impossible - they looked just like Noire and Blanche! - but it was a possibility.

When he still couldn’t get a response Willow sat back in his chair, beginning to wonder if the soldier was even conscious. They had resisted going with the medics for an examination and didn’t appear injured, but...

He slipped into the hallway, leaving them under the watchful eyes of the guards. He paged Sabrina. She should have arrived by now. “I think they’re in shock. They need to be examined and treated.”

“Understood. Can you transfer them to the D Ward? The B Ward isn’t equipped to handle them if they become violent,” Sabrina said.

“Will do.”

She gave him the room number and told him she would meet him there.

##

The soldier followed Willow without protest. They showed no interest in their surroundings as he led them down the various hallways to their destination. He entered the D Ward with them and the contingent of guards and saw Sabrina and Noire approaching from the opposite direction.

Noire looked shellshocked. Their gaze skimmed over him and fixed on the person behind him whose face was a mirror of their own. Noire looked so lost and confused looking at that face. They had held it together enough to finish their mission in Orre, but their world had been turned upside-down. Again. Willow didn’t know what to tell them.

The doors of an elevator opened and Blanche stepped out. Spotting him, they began to walk in his direction. They too, were rattled. Their eyes were too big from shock, but they held it together as they came within earshot.

“Professor, I was just speaking to one of the doctors upstairs, and she said-” Blanche began, but at that moment Go came around a corner up ahead, between their group and Sabrina’s, with Merle and Grisaille trailing behind him like newborn Psyduck. They weren’t supposed to be here. What was Spark thinking?

All three stopped dead when they spotted Willow and the as-yet-nameless sibling behind him. Grisaille’s face hardened and they took a step back. Merle’s body jerked and the colour drained from their face. Their lips parted, then opened wide on a horrible, ear-splitting scream.

Every adult took a step in their direction, but someone else was faster.

Metal rent, and the cuffs that bound the soldier’s arms together smashed into the wall. Before Willow or Blanche could react, the lookalike surged between them. Go flung an arm up to block them and Sabrina drew her weapon as the soldier charged at Merle. Both arm and bullet went over the soldier’s head as they hit their knees and skidded across the floor. They collided with Merle, whose body tumbled on top of theirs. Both bodies rolled across the floor in a painful tangle.

Merle’s scream cut off as they went down and Willow’s heart froze, fearing the worst. Then Merle was squirming, and the terror eased. Not dead, thank Arceus.

Merle wiggled up and flung their arms around the stranger’s neck with a heartbreaking cry of “Sparrow!”

Everyone froze. Willow could see Sabrina’s finger trembling on the trigger as Merle and the person they called Sparrow wrapped around each other on the floor. She didn’t fire, but kept the gun trained on Sparrow’s head. Her eyes were like steel.

It took everyone a moment to realize that the stream of sound coming from Sparrow was a torrent of French that mixed Kalos’ dialect with the version Cipher taught.

“My baby, my baby, my baby,” they chanted, running their bloody hand over Merle’s hair, leaving smears of red on the white. “Little one. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Merle’s voice was high and frightened. “Sparrow, Sparrow, you’re bleeding!” They shuddered, and wrapped themself tighter around Sparrow, bringing their knees up to wrap around Sparrow’s back.

“I’m all right, I’m all right. Most of it’s Magpie’s blood. My injuries are minor in comparison.”

“Magpie? Magpie’s alive?” Merle’s voice got shriller. They twisted to try and see Sparrow’s face wtihout releasing their death grip. “They’re hurt?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Will they die?”

Sparrow gasped, their whole body jerking. “Baby, I don’t-”

Blanche recovered enough to step forward. Though they were pale and their hands shook, their voice was even as they addressed the pair in French. “I was just upstairs, talking to one of the doctors who is working on Magpie,” Blanche said, their voice faltering. Willow’s stunned brain hadn’t made the connection that Magpie was the sibing upstairs in the surgical ward yet. “She said that their wounds are healing with astonishing speed. She said they will live.” Blanche’s whole body trembled as they finished relaying the message they had intended to deliver to Willow. They met Merle’s eyes as they stared at them over Sparrow’s shoulder.

“Magpie is alive,” Merle repeated.

Blanche nodded.

“They will live.”

Blanche nodded again, and Merle’s full eyes spilled over. They buried their face in Sparrow’s neck as the tears coursed down, muffling their sobs with their sibling’s skin.

Chapter Text

Sparrow consented to be examined by a doctor, but only if Merle was in the room. They would not allow the child to be removed from their sight. Willow couldn’t see any way around it, especially since Merle wasn’t letting go. Sparrow had to get up with Merle still clinging to their chest.

In the end, everyone squeezed into the examination room, since Blanche and Noire refused to be sent away and Go claimed that Spark had left Merle and Grisaille in his care and would “murderize” him if he left one of them behind for any reason. This meant that Grisaille had to stay too. They perched on the arm of the chair Merle was curled in. Grisaille had a wad of tissues in their hand and were attempting to wipe the sticky mess of tears and snot off Merle’s face. Out of everyone, they appeared the calmest.

Merle, exhausted from weeping, submitted to Grisaille’s ministrations without complaint. One of their hands clutched one of Sparrow’s. Sparrow themself was seated on the examination table, staring straight ahead. The tension had left their body upon finding Merle and hearing that Magpie wouldn’t die. Unfortunately, it left exhaustion in its place and Sparrow was no more inclined to answer Willow’s questions than they had been earlier, so he gave up.

Everyone else was arrayed against the walls, to the annoyance of the doctor. He eventually settled on ignoring them after Sabrina informed him that they weren’t leaving. He picked up a blood pressure cuff. “If you could roll up your sleeve,” he told Sparrow.

“You can’t use that on me,” Sparrow said. They spoke English with a heavier accent than Merle.

There was an awkward pause while the doctor blinked at them. “It’s a blood pressure cuff,” he explained, undoing the velcro so that Sparrow could see the whole thing. “I have to fasten it around your arm. It checks-”

“I know what it is and what it does,” Sparrow interrupted. “But if you want to use it, you’ll need to use a leg or something instead.”

“Wha-” the doctor began as Sparrow released Merle’s hand and brought their fingers to their mouth. They sank their teeth into the bloody cloth and yanked the glove off. They repeated the motion for the other hand and let both gloves fall to the floor.

They wiggled shiny metal fingers in the doctor’s astonished face. “See?”

“Prostheses,” the doctor breathed. He pushed his glasses up. “If you don’t mind me asking, how far up do your prostheses go?”

Moments later Sparrow had shed both jacket and shirt and stood unselfconsciously next to the examination table while a room full of strangers stared at them and the doctor mopped blood from their chest with a sterile pad.

“This will have to be stitched,” the doctor murmured, gently disinfecting the deep gash that cut them from collarbone to nipple. He had quickly masked his shock at the horrific scars that marred their skin and gone straight to business.

Both of Sparrow’s arms were prosthetic. One began at the shoulder while the other began at the elbow. There was extensive scarring where the metal prosthetic arms joined with their body. The rest of the scars were more varied.

Circular scars that Willow recognized as old bullet wounds dotted their abdomen and their flesh shoulder. There were lash scars crisscrossing their back, and various healed burns and knife wounds. But worst were the large, obvious teeth marks that had dug flesh out of several parts of their body. It looked like a large pokemon had taken bites out of them. The thought made Willow’s stomach roll.

Merle’s voice echoed in his mind: “An Arcanine tried to eat Sparrow. They had scars.” Hell.

With the blood cleaned off, the doctor began to prepare a syringe. “You can’t use that on me,” Sparrow said.

The doctor paused. “It’s to numb-”

“I know. It has no effect on me. Please just stitch it,” Sparrow said. Merle reached out and curled their fingers around Sparrow’s cold metal ones as the doctor shook his head.

“If you say so,” he grumbled at Sabrina’s nod, and got ready. Blanche and Noire looked away while he stitched the various injuries, but Merle and Grisaille stared. Their eyes fixed on the flashing needle with a kind of obsession. When he was done, the doctor took a step back and pulled his gloves off. “There. I don’t think you’ll want to put that shirt back on,” he added, eyeing the pile of bloody fabric on the floor.

Blanche stepped forward. “I called Annie and requested that she bring a bag of my clothes. She’s waiting outside,” they said. “If you could wait a moment?” They got an approving nod from Willow, and strode out of the room.

“That’s settled, then. Now, I’m sure you’ll want to wash the rest of that blood off, but you’ll need to keep your stitches dry for at least 48 hours,” the doctor said. “Do you have any other concerns?”

“No,” Sparrow said. Willow wondered if this particular doctor had ever dealt with such a difficult patient before.

The doctor left, and Blanche returned a couple minutes later with a bag, which they offered to Sparrow with a hand that shook. “Here. You have more muscle mass than I do, but my clothes should still fit you.”

Sparrow accepted the bag with bafflement. “Thank you. That’s very kind,” they said. They rifled through it and pulled out a t-shirt, which they pulled on. Then they began to undo their pants, and everyone else immediately turned their backs, except for Merle, who acted like this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, and Grisaille, who seemed confused by the others’ reaction.

“They are wearing clothes,” Merle announced after several minutes of quiet rustling.

Willow turned around. Annie had selected jeans, a t-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie for Sparrow, which they left unzipped. They kept their own bloodstained shoes on.

Merle stood on the chair, holding their arms out to Sparrow, and Sparrow scooped them up as though they weighed nothing.

“I would like to see Magpie now,” Sparrow said.

“Me too,” Merle added when Willow opened his mouth to tell them that Magpie should be given more time to recover before they got visitors. Merle had their arms locked around Sparrow’s neck and Magpie’s blood in their hair, and they stared at Willow with such a beseeching expression that he couldn’t refuse.

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck, feeling helpless. What could he do against those pleading eyes? He had rarely seen Merle so distraught. “Magpie has only just gotten out of surgery,” Willow told Merle and Sparrow. “They won’t be awake.”

“I still want to see them. I want to listen to them breathe,” Merle insisted. Sparrow nodded in agreement. Sparrow’s expression wasn’t pleading, but they stared at Willow with such intensity that he understood they were begging in their own way.

Merle didn’t seem to realize that Willow was defeated. They reached out and grabbed the lapel of his coat. “Please, Professor. I need to see that they are not dead. I cannot believe it unless I see it,” they begged.

Willow tried to remember if Merle had ever asked him for something in such a direct fashion before. If they had, he couldn’t recall it. “All right. But only you and Sparrow.” He held up a hand when Merle and Sparrow’s faces lit up, to keep them from getting carried away. “You must be quiet. And only one of you can be in the room at a time.”

Neither of them looked happy at the thought of being separated for even a few minutes, but it was obvious that they would do anything for Magpie’s sake.

Willow turned to the others. “Blanche, I’ll need you to lead us to Magpie’s room. The rest of you, go home and get some rest. Go, I assume you’re still looking after Grisaille?”

Go looked down at the child sitting in the chair. “Yeah, Professor. I’ll take them to meet up with Spark and we’ll grab some food,” he said.

Willow nodded. “Good.”

The others dispersed. Noire went with Go and Grisaille. Sabrina paused long enough to rest a gentle hand briefly on Merle’s head. “I’m glad at least two of your precious people are alive after all,” she said. “See you later.”

Merle nodded, and Sabrina turned and clicked down the hallway in her heels.

Blanche led them up to the fifth floor. They had to go through multiple levels of security in order to make it to the hall that held Magpie’s room. It was a little annoying, but the security was necessary.

Blanche stopped at a room at the end of the hall that needed to be unlocked with a keypad. Sparrow set Merle on the floor and stroked Merle’s shoulders once with their eerie metal fingers before stepping away. They hovered at Blanche’s elbow while Blanche punched in the key code. Clearly Sparrow intended to go first. Merle wiggled impatiently but stood at Willow’s side, willing to wait their turn.

Blanche angled their body so that Sparrow couldn’t see the passcode, then opened the door when the light blinked green. “Be very quiet,” they murmured. They kept their eyes averted from Sparrow’s face. “They were badly injured. They need to rest.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Sparrow said. They stepped into the dim room and let the door close behind them.

Fifteen minutes later, they emerged. Their eyes were rimmed with red from crying. Willow breathed a silent sigh of relief. Sparrow had been gone long enough to make him antsy.

Sparrow stepped through the door and right up to Merle, stooping down to give the child a hug. Merle’s arms wrapped around Sparrow’s back while Sparrow burrowed their face in Merle’s neck. Willow could hear that they were murmuring to Merle, but couldn’t make out the words.

When Sparrow straightened and stepped away, Merle approached the door. Their fingers fiddled with the hem of their shirt while Blanche punched in the code that would unlock the door. Blanche stepped back to allow Merle entry into the room, but was stopped when Merle’s small fingers grabbed their coat.

They turned to find Merle staring up at them, their eyes huge and uncertain. “Will you come in with me?” Merle whispered. “I know the Professor said only one at a time, but I am afraid. I would feel better if you were with me.”

Surprise and gratification flickered across Blanche’s face. They glanced at Willow. He nodded imperceptibly. He had been intending to go in with Merle, but Merle didn’t realize that. He trusted Blanche, so he didn’t mind if they went instead of him.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Blanche murmured.

Merle reached for Blanche’s hand, and Blanche took it. They stepped into the room together, and the door closed behind them.

The room was dim. The only light came through the thin curtains that covered the barred window and from the various machines that Magpie was hooked up to. Magpie themself was lying in the bed in the center of the room. Their hair was unbound and spread over the pillow. They were completely still. The only sign that they were alive was the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Merle gave an involuntary gasp and their grip tightened on Blanche’s hand. Their face twisted, and then they were weeping silently. They stepped forward with Blanche’s hand still clasped tightly in theirs, so Blanche followed.

Merle’s silent steps took them to the side of the bed. The blanket was pulled up to Magpie’s chest, but their arms were free. After looking to Blanche for permission, Merle slipped their hands through the protective railing at the side of the bed and curled their fingers gently over Magpie’s.

“Hello, Maman,” Merle whispered, and Blanche looked down at them quickly. Merle bit their lip and stared into Magpie’s slack face, searching for any sign that Magpie heard them. They breathed in shakily. “I’m sorry for being gone for so long. You must have been so worried. I didn’t know you were alive, or I would have tried to find my way back to you. I am so glad you’re not dead.”

Merle dropped Blanche’s hand and stepped up to the head of the bed, where the railing didn’t cover. They stood up on their toes and stroked Magpie’s bangs gently from their face, their fingers lingering at the curve of Magpie’s cheek. Then they pulled their hand away, laid their head on the mattress near Magpie’s and sobbed.

Chapter Text

Blanche had never seen someone sob so brokenly while hardly making a sound. Even Merle’s gasps for air were quiet. Blanche thought that Merle could have spent dozens of nights sobbing their heart out in their room and someone standing just outside the door would not have heard. Their heart constricted at the thought of their small sibling being so sad and alone. Blanche stepped forward and rubbed small circles on Merle’s back. Their touch was probably more awkward than comforting, if Merle even noticed it, but they kept at it. The physical contact comforted them even if it did not comfort Merle.

Time passed, and Merle’s sobs died down. Blanche waited until Merle drew away from Magpie’s bedside before they took the child’s hand and guided them toward the door. Merle resisted, staring over their shoulder at the still form on the bed.

“It’s all right. Let Magpie rest, Merle. You can come see them again tomorrow,” Blanche said. They gave the child’s hand a gentle tug. They were exhausted, physically and emotionally. Going back to Orre, to a Cipher lab, was bad enough. Now they had to deal with the discovery of Magpie and Sparrow on top of that, and they had spent most of the day in the hospital. They hated hospitals even on their best days. Blanche just wanted to leave.

Merle twisted to look up at them. “Do you promise?” Despite the weeping, their face radiated intensity rather than weakness.

Blanche didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I’ll come pick you up myself if Sabrina won’t bring you,” they promised. With a corner of their coat, they wiped tears from Merle’s face. The poor child had done so much crying that day.

Sparrow and Professor Willow were waiting for them outside the room. Sparrow was sitting against the far wall with their arms crossed over their chest, staring off into the distance while Professor Willow attempted to make conversation. He smiled in relief when Blanche and Merle emerged, abandoning his one-sided conversation with Sparrow to come over to them.

“Are you all right?” he asked Merle, his sympathy evident. He bent down to peer into their face.

Merle stared back. They were looked emotionally spent and dazed. “I don’t know,” they said, shaking their head slowly while staring into the Professor’s eyes. They broke eye contact and turned to Blanche. “Blanche, am I all right?”

Blanche blinked, because how could they possibly know that? And yet Merle looked completely serious. “...I think that you are very tired and upset,” they said after a moment, choosing their words with caution. “You have had a hard couple of days. But I think you will feel better once you’ve slept and once Magpie starts to recover.”

Merle considered this. “That sounds reasonable. Thank you, Blanche.”

Professor Willow struggled to paste a smile on his face. It looked unnatural even when he managed it. “We should get you home, so that you can start on that good night’s sleep. A meal wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“I’ll drive them,” Blanche said. They tightened their grip on Merle’s hand in case Professor Willow decided to argue. Merle’s fingers curled around theirs without conscious thought, though they frowned and shot a glance back at the closed door behind them.

Sparrow approached from across the hall. It appeared to have taken them a moment to realize that Blanche and Merle had reappeared. Now that they had, they positioned themself at Merle’s other side and took their free hand. “Where are you going?” Sparrow asked.

“To Madame Sabrina’s house,” Merle replied, staring up at their sibling. “Blanche says that I must go sleep.”

“Oh,” Sparrow said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Merle looked distressed. “You’re not coming?” They looked between Sparrow and the other adults, an unhappy wrinkle between their brows.

“I am not leaving Magpie.” Sparrow’s free hand brushed through Merle’s bangs, then their thumb massaged the little wrinkle on Merle's forehead. “I do not know if it is right to let you out of my sight. Magpie would not like it. But I cannot leave them, and you have been well taken care of.”

Blanche and Professor Willow looked at each other. Blanche had put no thought whatsoever into where Sparrow was going to be staying while Magpie recovered, but they certainly hadn’t expected Sparrow to refuse to leave the hospital.

“Actually,” Willow began, trying for another smile, “I was thinking-”

Sparrow cut him off with a brusque gesture. “I will not leave Magpie,” they stated. Their face tightened as Professor Willow attempted to reason with them, and they shook they head while he talked.

Blanche examined Sparrow out of the corner of their eye. Blanche didn’t like looking at Sparrow directly. It was difficult not to stare at them, to mentally catalogue similarities and differences. Physically, Sparrow resembled them and Noire down to a tee, but there was none of Noire’s personality in their face. No bright grins or smug smirks, no gloating glances or significant looks. Instead, Sparrow seemed as stoic and indifferent as Blanche was certain they themself seemed to others. Sparrow held themself without pretension, though their bulky shoulders and metal hands warned the casual observer that they weren’t someone to be messed with.

It was strange to look at a face that looked so much like their own and Noire’s and not know anything about the personality behind it. It was different with Merle and Grisaille. They were children, and being children meant that their faces were different enough that it wasn’t the same type of strange.

Or maybe Blanche’s thoughts just didn’t make sense.

Professor Willow marched down the hall with his phone pressed to his ear. He put enough distance between them that Blanche could not audit the conversation. They glanced at Sparrow, who had dropped Merle’s hand and was now twisting bits of the child’s hair around their finger while they watched Professor Willow. Merle caught Blanche looking and managed a tremulous smile.

Professor Willow returned, still holding his phone. “Sparrow, Sabrina says that she is willing to let you stay with Merle at her place,” he said. “That’s where Merle has been living for the last few months as well.”

“I will not leave Magpie,” Sparrow replied, speaking slowly and clearly as though they were addressing someone who was a little dense.

“If Sparrow is staying, then I want to stay too,” Merle piped up.

Professor Willow looked surprised at this resistance from an unexpected quarter. “But Merle, you’ll be more comfortable in your own bed.”

“I want to stay with Sparrow and Magpie.” Merle took Sparrow’s hand again and held onto it tightly.

“Sure, you can stay with me,” Sparrow said before Professor Willow could argue further. Merle relaxed and smiled as though Sparrow’s consent to their presence settled everything.

Exasperated, Professor Willow marched down the hall to report to Sabrina.

Blanche bent down to look into Merle’s face when they talked, an action that surprised Merle since Blanche usually talked down to them from their full height. “Will you be okay, Merle?” Blanche asked. “I know how you hate hospitals.”

Merle reached up and pressed a hand against Blanche’s cheek, something the child had never done before that brought a rush of memories. How many times had Noire made the same gesture when they were children? Though Noire’s hand had never seemed so tiny to Blanche...

“Are you okay?” Merle asked. “You look... tired.”

Incredible warmth and tenderness flooded Blanche’s chest, along with insecurity and fear that always accompanied those feelings. They instinctively moved away, and Merle’s hand dropped from their face. In a hasty attempt to fill the sudden awkwardness, Blanche said, “I’ll ask Noire to bring one of your pillows for you. Which one would you like?”

Merle bit their lip, thinking. “It doesn’t matter, really,” they murmured. Their gaze kept being drawn to the closed door. The one that Magpie was behind. “Any of them is fine. Would you please ask them to bring my blanket too?”

Despite their sudden flood of panic, Blanche managed to smile at Merle. “I’ll ask.”

Sparrow had watched this exchange silently. Now they spoke up. “Thank you,” they said with such sincerity that Blanche was taken aback. “You are very kind.”

Blanche flushed and looked away. “You would be one of few people to think so,” they muttered. They left their siblings behind and caught up with Professor Willow, who was still pacing up and down the hallway arguing with Sabrina.

“Professor,” they said to get his attention. Once they had it, they continued, “Let them stay. Sparrow is unlikely to do anything to harm Magpie or Merle. It should be fine if we increase security on this floor. Making them to leave is not worth the effort and force it would require to accomplish it.” Blanche had seen Merle dig their heels in on several occasions and knew how stubborn they could be. They had also seen Sparrow fight their way out of the lab.

“I don’t like it,” Professor Willow said. “Sabrina doesn’t like it, either.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Though she is willing to go along with it. She was just suggesting what we could do to make them more comfortable.”

“Merle wants their blanket and one of their pillows.”

The Professor sighed again. “All right. I’ll tell her.”

##

As promised, Noire arrived with Merle’s overnight bag, their blanket, and one of Merle’s cuddle pillows. Blanche told themself that it didn’t bother them that Noire had brought the cuddle pillow Noire had given Merle rather than any of the others. They had also brought rolled-up foam mattresses to make Sparrow and Merle more comfortable, and pyjamas for Sparrow.

Merle was happy to see them, which would have irritated Blanche further if they were irritated in the first place. Which they weren’t. Absolutely not.

“Thank you, Noire,” Merle said, accepting the items from Noire. Their arms were too small to carry the bulky items comfortably, but they staggered into the room regardless and passed them to Sparrow.

“Here, Sparrow. Noire brought you some pyjamas,” Merle said, depositing the items on the floor and presenting Sparrow with a set of grey pyjamas with eevees on it.

Sparrow blinked, holding their hands out automatically to take the clothes. “Thank you,” they said. They unfolded the shirt and stared at it, perplexed. “Why eevees?”

“Noire likes them.” Merle dug in their own bag for their pyjamas and disappeared into the bathroom to change, while Sparrow changed in the hospital room without seeming to mind that Blanche and Noire were watching.

Noire disappeared after checking that Sparrow and Magpie didn’t need anything else, but Blanche had already decided that they would stay. As the person who had convinced Professor Willow to let their siblings stay at the hospital with Magpie, they felt a responsibility to make sure they were supervised. They made a quick phone call to Annie to let her know where they would be and that they needed her to reschedule their morning appointments, and then pulled off their coat and shoes.

Sparrow had already unrolled the foam mattresses and they and Merle were making themselves comfortable on the floor. They watched Blanche with a perplexed expression. “Are you staying too?” they asked as Blanche settled next to Merle. The foam mattresses weren’t big enough for the three of them, so Sparrow eased onto the floor so that the other two could be comfortable.

“Yes,” Blanche said, wiggling to find try and find a comfortable spot, to no avail. The foam mattress was better than nothing, but it wasn’t anywhere near as comfortable as their own bed. “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up too much space.”

Sparrow shrugged. “It’s fine. If I get too uncomfortable I’ll just sleep in the chair,” they said. “I’ve done it loads of times.”

“Can I sleep in the bed with Magpie?”

“No, Merle. Give them space to heal, okay?” Sparrow chided before Blanche could. Sparrow gently patted Merle’s cheek. Then, to Blanche’s surprise, they patted Blanche’s hair.

Blanche was so startled by this unexpected show of affection that they couldn’t think of a response. By the time they did, Sparrow had already fallen asleep.

Chapter Text

Click!

Noire cursed themself inwardly for forgetting to turn off the camera shutter noise on their phone as both Merle and Sparrow snapped awake at the sound. They went from soft and peaceful, adorably curled together with Blanche on the floor to wide awake and blinking in an instant. Merle relaxed when they found the source of the sound. Noire gave them a smile, but rather than returning it Merle immediately twisted and raised themself to their knees to peek at the still form on the bed.

There were dark shadows under Merle’s eyes, and they seemed to deepen with disappointment as Merle realized that Magpie was still unconscious.

Sparrow rolled to their feet and stretched, their back popping. They nodded to Noire and gathered their folded clothes from the night before and started to change.

Blanche, meanwhile, was frowning in their sleep. Noire smirked - Blanche was probably trying to figure out where the warmth they had been snuggled up to so cozily had gone.

Noire might have felt bad for stomping hard on Blanche’s stomach to wake them up, but the sound Blanche made was too hilarious.

“Hey! Up and at ‘em!” Noire said, lifting their foot for another stomp.

“Whuh?” Blanche said in groggy surprise. Waking up in the morning wasn’t their strong point.

“C’mon! We’re getting breakfast!” Another stomp, and another surprised noise. Blanche rolled away, wrapping their arms around their ribs.

“Noire-” Blanche began angrily, but steel fingers wrapped around Noire’s shoulder and yanked them backwards. Noire overbalanced and flailed their arms in an attempt to regain their balance. They turned in astonishment to find Sparrow standing behind them, fully-clothed and glowering.

“Do. Not. Bother. Magpie.”

There was a strange intensity in Sparrow’s eyes as they bit off the words. Noire nodded, too taken aback to argue, and Sparrow released them. Noire and Blanche watched silently as Sparrow crossed them room to the bed. They bent down and murmured something in Magpie's ear.

##

Sparrow frowned down at the menu. “I should not have left Magpie,” they said sullenly. “You are very mean.”

Noire ignored this. Like they’d told Sparrow, outside food wasn’t allowed in the hospital room. Sparrow and Merle needed to be fed. So they had bullied and browbeat Sparrow until they had agreed to accompany Noire to breakfast.

That Blanche had tagged along was a welcome surprise, though Noire tried not to look too pleased. Especially since Blanche’s face was positively frigid when they looked in Noire’s direction. But hey, at least Noire had their company, even if Blanche refused to acknowledge their presence.

Though if they claimed that the attention Blanche was paying to Sparrow didn’t bother them, that would be a huge fucking lie.

“Do you need me to read the menu to you again?” Blanche asked. They had noticed that Sparrow didn’t read English well almost immediately, and had already read the menu to them. Twice.

“Why bother? I can’t eat any of this,” Sparrow said, tossing the menu down. They stared out the window. The hospital was just across the street, and Sparrow frowned at it. “I should be with Magpie.”

“Magpie isn’t going anywhere. And neither are you, until you eat something,” Noire said.

“Is there a problem with the food here? We can go somewhere else,” Blanche offered as though Noire had not spoken.

The siblings were seated at a booth near the doors. Blanche had claimed the seat next to Sparrow, and Noire knew that it was so they didn’t have to sit next to Noire. That had left Merle to slide into the seat next to Noire. They were studying the menu intently.

“I can order for Sparrow,” Merle offered now. “I know what they will eat.”

Sparrow’s arms were crossed rebelliously over their chest, but when they looked at Merle their expression softened. “Thank you.”

Merle smiled back just as the waitress appeared.

“Ready to order?” she asked in a voice that was far too chipper for this early in the goddman morning.

Blanche and Noire both ordered chocolate croissants and coffees while frowning at each other across the table. Merle ordered a plate of eggs for themself (”Just eggs?” “Yes, thank you.”) and a strawberry banana smoothie and a bowl of oatmeal for Sparrow.

“And this- I know it’s on the children’s menu, but is it acceptable for them to have a bowl of yogurt as well?” Merle finished, staring anxiously up at the waitress, who looked puzzled at the fact that the child was helping the adult order rather than the other way around.

“Um, sure. Is that everything?” the waitress asked, looking around the table.

Noire’s arm was draped along the back of the booth behind Merle. They leaned toward the child. “You sure you just want eggs? You can have a milkshake or something too.”

Merle frowned and shook their head. “I can’t eat,” they said, staring at the table top. “My stomach- it feels like it is tumbling.”

When the waitress left, Noire’s brushed a hand under Merle’s bangs to feel their forehead. They didn’t feel warm.

“Are you anxious?” Sparrow asked, leaning across the table to place their hands over Merle’s. Noire had bought them a new pair of grey gloves to replace the ones that had been ruined, and Sparrow was wearing them now to avoid attracting attention. “Does your stomach hurt?”

“No. It isn’t pain. It just will not hold still.” Merle withdrew their hands and patted their stomach as if to calm it. “I suppose I am anxious. That is the word for the jittery doom feeling, yes?”

“Yep.”

The food didn’t take long to arrive since the only thing that needed to be cooked was Merle’s eggs. Merle picked at the food without interest while Sparrow carefully sampled each of the items Merle had ordered for them. Apparently deciding that the food wasn’t inedible, Sparrow dug in. They ate rapidly, glancing out the window at the hospital every few bites. They were in a hurry to get back to Magpie. Noire couldn’t blame them. There wasn’t much they wouldn’t have done to get back to Blanche’s side, back when they had still been close...

The thoughts caused a familiar pang in their chest. They focused on their croissants in order to avoid looking at Blanche, even though it had been a long time since they had been able to read each other’s thoughts.

“So, Sparrow,” Blanche began. Sparrow looked up from scraping the last of the yogurt from their bowl and waited. “Can you tell us what you - and Magpie - were doing at that facility in Orre?”

The openness in Sparrow’s face slammed shut like a door.

“I do not mean to upset you,” Blanche added hastily. “It’s just... Professor Willow will want to know, and-”

But Sparrow was no longer paying attention to them. They were finishing off the last of their oatmeal, and Blanche deflated as they understood that Sparrow was not going to tell them anything.

Merle’s arm brushed Noire’s as they leaned forward. “Don’t be angry, Blanche,” they said, incorrectly reading Blanche’s expression. “Sparrow never shares information without Magpie’s permission.”

“Magpie has to give them permission?” Noire demanded. “What, does Magpie own them or something?”

Sparrow glared across the table at them, but Merle answered. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Sparrow just doesn’t feel comfortable unless Magpie says it’s safe. Right?” Sparrow reached across the table and ruffled their hair.

“I’m finished eating. Let me out,” Sparrow said, poking Blanche repeatedly in the shoulder.

“I am not. And Merle has not finished their eggs. You will have to wait.” Blanche could look as cold and immovable as a glacier when they wanted to. Noire hated to be impressed, but they kinda were.

Undeterred, Sparrow poked Blanche a few more times. When Blanche still gave no sign of moving, Sparrow gave up. “Eat your eggs, Bibi,” they told Merle, who frowned but ate another bite.

##

When everyone was finished eating, Sparrow bolted for the door with Merle right behind them. Noire cursed and chased after them, the clack of Blanche’s heeled boots bringing up the rear. Sparrow ran all the way to the hospital, but didn’t have the proper authorizations and access codes to get to the area of the hospital where Magpie’s room was.

They hovered at Noire’s elbow as Noire got the group through. Noire was prepared to elbow them back if Sparrow tried to push ahead, but now that they were finally heading up to Magpie’s room, Sparrow seemed to have calmed down.

When Noire keyed in the final code and opened the door, though, something was terribly wrong.

The curtains were open and drifting in the light breeze that blew through the broken window. The bars that crossed the window were dented, but intact. The blankets on the bed had been kicked back to tangle at the foot of the bed, only a faint impression left in the mattress to show where Magpie had been lying.

Magpie was gone.

Chapter Text

There was a beat of stunned shock while everyone processed that Magpie was not there.

Then Sparrow dashed to the window and peered out. There was no way Magpie could have gone out that way - the bars were reinforced steel set too close together for even a child smaller than Merle to squeeze through. Sparrow peered at the casing around the window with interest, then whirled back around and stalked to the door.

“Ah,” they said, spotting something.

Blanche turned to see what they were looking at, but at that moment Merle began to screech.

Merle had stared at the empty bed in shocked horror up until that moment. When it finally registered that Magpie was nowhere in the room, they doubled over as though they had been stabbed, wailing. They sank to the floor and flopped face down in pain and despair, still howling. Blanche dropped to their knees beside the child, patting their back in flustered confusion.

“Merle? Mon petit chouchou? It’s okay. We’ll find them. Everything will be fine.” Blanche’s voice wavered. They had seen Merle furious and frightened, but they only time they had seen the child this distraught was at the berry patch. “We’ll look for them, okay?” Blanche’s words were drowned out by the sheer volume of Merle’s wailing. In desperation, Blanche did what they hadn’t done in years. They called on their twin. “Noire-”

Noire was beside them in an instant. “Hey,” they crooned, the tone the same as the one they had used to soothe Blanche when they were both children who woke in the middle of the night with nightmares. Noire knelt down and pulled Merle, howling but unresistant, into their lap. They smoothed the child’s bangs out of their face. “Mon petit chouchou. Deep breaths, okay? Un, deux, trois... Yes, like that. You need to calm down so you can help us look for Magpie.”

Relieved that Noire had taken over dealing with the hysterical child, Blanche retreated and went to see what Sparrow was doing.

Sparrow was muttering to themself as they examined a mess of exposed wires that had been pulled out of the electric locking mechanism of the door. Magpie must have pried it open and messed with the circuitry in order to escape, and then put it back together once they had the door open so that no one would notice a problem right away.

“I shouldn’t have left them,” Sparrow muttered. “They passed out in Orre and woke up in a medical facility. I should have stayed to tell them it was safe.”

And Blanche understood why Magpie was missing.

The last thing Magpie would remember was being shot in a Cipher laboratory in Orre. Waking up in alone in a hospital, they wouldn’t have assumed safety. They would have assumed capture. Blanche would rather die than be captured by Cipher, and had to assume that Magpie felt the same way.

Magpie could be wandering through the hospital at this very moment under the assumption that everyone they saw was a Cipher operative and therefore an enemy. If they were smart, and they had to be to escape from this room, they would have found or improvised a weapon.

This was very bad.

Blanche reached for their communicator, then remembered that this was a Rocket-affiliated hospital and they held no power here. They turned to Noire, who had managed to quiet Merle and was rocking the child on their lap, singing softly. The child’s eyes were closed and they had been reduced to sharp gasps, but their body was still tight with tension, they hands in tight fists in the material of their shirt.

The sight of Merle’s face made Blanche reconsider the tone and phrasing of the message they needed to deliver. “Noire, you need to put a call out to the hospital staff not to approach or attempt to detain Magpie if they encounter them,” Blanche said, striving for calm. Noire looked up at them, puzzled. “Magpie thinks they’re in a Cipher lab.”

Instant comprehension leaped into Noire’s eyes. “Take them,” Noire said, nodding down at Merle.

Blanche hesitated, and Noire’s eyes snapped with impatience. Blanche dropped down and held their arms out. When Noire attempted to hand Merle over, the child resisted, turning into Noire’s chest. “Merle, go to Blanche,” Noire said sternly, and completed the hand-off.

Merle wrapped their small arms around Blanche’s neck and buried their face in their shoulder while Noire spoke into their communicator. At a loss for what else to do, Blanche hummed one of their favourite violin concertos in the child’s ear.

“Blanche?” Merle asked in a small voice.

“Yes?” Relieved that the child had calmed down enough to talk, Blanche squeezed them a little tighter.

“Where is Sparrow going?”

Alarmed, Blanche jerked away from Merle and stared at the door, now open. Sparrow was gone.

Noire turned too, and swore. “They could’ve said something before taking off!” they griped.

Merle scrambled to their feet and darted after Noire as their older sibling darted into the hall. Blanche followed. Noire looked in both directions and cursed again. Blanche didn’t even bother to reprimand them for the language they were using in front of the child. Instead, they placed their hands on Merle’s shoulders and waited until the child’s frightened face turned up to them.

“Merle, you know Magpie well, don’t you?” Blanche asked. Merle nodded, eyes wide. “If they thought they were in hostile territory, in grave danger, how would they try to escape?”

Merle’s eyes darted to the broken window in the room. “Window.”

“They tried that. What would be their Plan B?”

“Stairs. Most people take the elevator, and Magpie is good at sneaking.”

Blanche nodded. “Okay.”

Overhearing, Noire pointed at the opposite end of the hallway. “There’s a stairwell over here. It’s not used much because it’s meant to be a fire exit. You can enter the stairs on most floors - some need a key code - but the inner doors are locked until you reach the main level.”

“If it looks like it has less people, that is where Magpie would go.”

They caught up with Sparrow three floors down, which confirmed Merle’s theory in Blanche’s mind at least. Two people who knew Magpie well had drawn the same conclusion. Sparrow glanced up when they heard them coming and put a finger to their lips.

The group crept further down. Slowly, Blanche became aware of the sound of someone crying. Blanche glanced at the others, and Noire nodded. They heard it too.

Another floor down, they found Magpie.

They stood near a door in their pale blue hospital gown, scarred arms and legs bare. They had their arm wrapped around the neck of a woman in nurse’s scrubs. She was the source of the crying sounds. She muffled her sobs as Magpie held a syringe to her neck and hissed in her ear.

“Open this door. I know you have the code.”

The woman shook her head as much as she dared with the needle pressing against her skin. The red lock light was illuminated over the door, which meant that even punching in the correct code would not open the door. Someone must have instigated a Code Red. Not Noire, though. Their instructions had been not to prevent Magpie from leaving the building since they were likely to calm down once they were on a civilian street.

Though why they had bypassed the main level and were attempting to get the nurse to break into the basement was a mystery to Blanche. Didn’t it make more sense to be above ground?

“Magpie, please let that woman go,” Sparrow said, sounding distressed.

Magpie froze. They turned and looked up the stairs at them, and Blanche found themself taking a step back from the coldness and hostility in their expression.

Then Magpie blinked, and the feeling passed as Magpie’s face melted in relief. “Sparrow,” they said, smiling a little, though they kept their grip on the nurse. “Are you all right?”

Magpie’s eyes passed Sparrow and landed on Blanche and Noire. Another rapid blink and their surprise was gone, vanished behind a face as smooth and expressionless as glass. “Sparrow,” they said carefully. “Where are we?”

Sparrow fidgeted. “...Opal City,” they admitted.

There was a brief pause while Magpie absorbed this. “I see,” they said. They released the nurse abruptly, and she sagged from relief and fear. “You may go,” Magpie told her, switching from French to English. Like Sparrow, they had a thick French accent. “My apologies for the rough treatment.” The nurse whimpered and staggered away. She climbed the stairs on shaking legs, throwing a fearful glance over her shoulder as she moved out of arm’s reach.

Magpie dropped the arm holding the syringe to their side and slid down the wall until they were sitting on the floor, not seeming to care that much of their tan skin was on display. “I am so tired,” they said, closing their eyes and leaning their head back against the wall. And it was no wonder they they were. They were still recovering from surgery! Blanche thought it was incredible that they had even managed to make it this far.

“Magpie?” A tentative voice asked, and Merle peeked from between Blanche and Noire, who had instinctively moved to block them when they saw that Magpie had a weapon.

Magpie’s eyes flew open. In an instant that frightening blankness was gone, and Blanche could see their whole heart in their eyes as they stared at Merle. Astonishment, disbelief, joy, and so much love that it made Blanche’s own heart hurt to look at it shone in those eyes. “Merle? Baby?”

Magpie dropped the syringe to the floor and held their arms out. Merle ran into them, dropping to their knees and burrowing against Magpie’s chest. Magpie winced. “Gently!” they protested even as their arms wrapped around Merle and held them close. “I’m hurt.”

“Magpie, I missed you so much!” Merle said, wiggling even closer. “I thought you died when that man stabbed you. And the explosion-”

Magpie stroked Merle’s hair. They, at least, had perfectly normal hands of flesh and bone, though marred with pale scars. Gentle hands that held Merle like they were something beloved and fragile, in sharp contrast to their bruising grip on that nurse earlier. And Merle’s face shone as they stared up at Magpie.

“I’m okay. Alice saved me, though it took time for me to heal. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault you were captured. I should have kept you close to me-”

“You thought I would be safe there. You didn’t know Cipher would beat Étoile. Étoile is so strong.”

Magpie drew back, cupping Merle’s cheek in a way that was painfully familiar to Blanche. Magpie was pale, with lines of pain cutting into their face. “Speaking of, are they here with you?”

Merle shook their head, finally looking away from Magpie as though they could no longer bear to meet their eyes. “No,” they said quietly. “I don’t know where Étoile and Lune are. We were captured together, but when I woke up, they weren’t there. I haven’t seen them since then.”

Magpie’s face tightened, emotional pain joining the physical. “I see.” They blew out a breath and stroked Merle’s hair. “It’s okay. We’ll find them.” Suddenly, Magpie’s body shuddered and the remaining blood drained from their face. “Baby Bird, need you to move.”

Blanche expected Merle to object, but the child was off Magpie and three steps away in an instant. Magpie doubled over and vomited on the floor, body shuddering. Merle yipped in distress and hovered nearby. So when Magpie swore in French and fainted, slumping over sideways, Merle was there to catch them.

There was a bit of a panic after that, with Sparrow swooping down to take Magpie’s weight off Merle and whisk them away from the puddle of vomit. Blanche, worried about Magpie’s physical condition, decided that it was unwise to attempt to carry them up the stairs, so Noire had to contact the hospital staff and arrange for a stretcher to come down. With a bit more fuss and hassle, Magpie was finally brought back upstairs and settled in a different secured room that didn’t have exposed wires protruding from the locking mechanism.

Blanche, Noire, Sparrow, and Merle were kicked out while the doctor examined Magpie. Blanche took the opportunity to advise Professor Willow of the situation, acutely aware that Noire was glaring at their back but pretending not to notice.

The doctor came out to update them. Magpie had torn a few stitches, and there was bleeding. She would restitch it, and then they would be free to sit with Magpie if they wanted.

Chapter Text

By the time Professor Willow arrived, Magpie had been stitched back up and settled in the hospital bed. Noire suspected Magpie wasn’t happy about being in a hospital, but when the others were finally permitted inside the room, Magpie had immediately invited Merle to climb up onto the bed with them. Blanche had tucked themself unobtrusively in the visitor’s chair in the corner close to the bed, which left Noire and Sparrow to lean against the wall and eye each other. Willow walked in to find Magpie reclining against the raised head of the bed with Merle curled next to them. Merle’s cheek was pressed against Magpie’s shoulder and they appeared to be dozing.

And of course the first thing the old fart had to do was disturb the peaceful scene.

“Merle, you shouldn’t be up there. Magpie hasn’t recovered yet,” Willow said, striding over to the side of the bed and motioning for Merle to get down.

Merle’s eyes snapped open and they sat up, distress plain on their face. Magpie appeared relaxed except for their eyes, which were alert as they flicked between everyone in the room. Mapgie laid a hand on Merle’s arm. When Merle looked down at them, Magpie spoke to the Professor. “Oh, they’re not hurting me at all. I would really prefer for them to stay.” They flashed a charming smile at Willow that caught everyone off guard. Well, except for Merle and Sparrow. Those two acted as if there was nothing unusual about Magpie’s ability to flip between I’m-going-to-murder-a-nurse-today and calm good will. Merle even relaxed and snuggled back against Magpie’s side.

Goody-two-shoes Blanche had reported the whole stairwell incident to Willow over the phone like a dutiful underling, so Willow hadn’t quite recovered from his surprise at this unexpected reaction when Magpie sat up and held out a hand. “You must be Professor Willow. I know of you.”

Sparrow had their arms crossed over their chest, and their frown seemed to deepen when Willow shuffled forward and took Magpie’s offered hand to shake. “Ah, yes. I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,” he said, smiling sheepishly. Noire hated his guts.

Magpie, however, still exuded calm. “My name is Magpie. I believe you’ve already met Sparrow?” When Magpie drew their hand away and looked at Sparrow, the latter nodded.

“Yes. I’m acquainted with everyone here now, except for you. Could you tell me a little about yourself?”

Blanche, again the good underling, had vacated their chair when Professor Willow came in, so he sat down in it in order to talk more comfortably.

Magpie winced and rubbed a hand over their abdomen, and Noire’s irritation melted into concern. Something still hurt in there. And normally Noire wouldn’t give a crap about a stranger. They wouldn’t! But this person looked like them. Looked like Blanche. And Noire wanted to know why.

They wanted know to know why Magpie had taken a couple bullets for them without hesitation. And okay, maybe that had something to do with Noire’s concern as well. It seemed they had a soft spot for people who saved their life.

Magpie leaned back against the gentle incline of their mattress and took a slow, deep breath. When the lines of pain faded from their face, they smiled at Willow again. “I suppose. What would you like to know?”

No one had noticed Sparrow moving, but they were suddenly at Magpie’s bedside, a plastic cup of water in their hands. They offered the cup to Magpie and bent the straw to Magpie’s mouth. Amusement and affection lit Magpie’s eyes as they took a sip. “Thank you, Sparrow.”

“How are you related to each other?” Professor Willow asked after watching this exchange.

“Sparrow and me? We- oh. Who is that?” Magpie blinked as the door opened and Sabrina slipped through. She was wearing a black pantsuit and glossy red lipstick today.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sabrina said smoothly, approaching Magpie. Sparrow reluctantly moved aside to let her shake Magpie’s hand. “I’m Sabrina. I was Noire and Blanche’s guardian when they were children.”

Wary now, Magpie eyed Sabrina for a moment before they took the offered hand. “Madame. I know of you as well. You work for Rocket Industries.”

“I like Madame Sabrina,” Merle piped up, watching Magpie’s face. Magpie glanced down at them, and nodded. Noire noted that Magpie held Sabrina’s hand only long enough to be polite before they dropped it in a hurry.

“I am Magpie. It’s a pleasure. I would invite you to sit down, but there appears to be only one chair in here. My apologies,” Magpie said, and raked their fingers through Merle’s bangs.

Noire knew Sabrina well enough to know that she was amused. Her eyebrows quirked up a little, and the corners of her mouth tipped upward in a smile. “I can stand just fine,” she said, and did, hovering near the foot of the bed.

Magpie settled themself more comfortably. “Professor Willow was just asking how Sparrow and I are related,” they began.

“Actually, I meant all of you. How are you and Sparrow related to Blanche and Noire?” Willow corrected.

Noire tensed, and across the room saw Blanche do the same. They wanted to know - had wanted to know ever since Magpie had dived between them and the sniper.

“We’re siblings,” Magpie replied.

Noire’s breath whooshed out. They couldn’t say it was a surprise. How could it be, looking at those faces? But somehow it stunned them enough that they couldn’t think for a moment.

“In what way?” It was Blanche who spoke. “Are we all clones of the same person? Were we test tube babies? What-”

Some of Blanche’s feelings were starting to show. They gritted their teeth and there were two spots of distressed colour at their cheekbones. They looked shaken. Their hands bunched into fists, though they made a conscious effort to relax them and smoothed their pants. Noire wanted to go to them, but knew that Blanche wouldn’t want them to.

Magpie turned their head to study Blanche, and Blanche fell silent. “I read in Cipher’s files,” they said slowly, as if they were thinking it through as they said it, “and I believe it to be true, that we are blood siblings. Quadruplets, not clones.” They fell silent for a moment, stroking Merle’s hair as they thought.

“Quadruplets? That’s unusual. When did you discover this?” Sabrina asked. She leaned against the bed and crossed one leg in front of the other, looking sleek and casual at the same time.

“That we were quadruplets? About when I found Sparrow. I already knew Blanche and Noire were my siblings. I didn’t know Sparrow existed until later.”

“When did you learn about Sparrow?” Sabrina asked, silencing the questions bubbling on Noire’s tongue with a gesture. She kept her eyes on Magpie.

Magpie glanced at Sparrow with a slight frown. “I believe we were fifteen?” Magpie said, a note of uncertainty in their voice making it sound like a question.

“I think so. It was nine years ago, and we believe that we are twenty-four,” Sparrow agreed.

Magpie nodded. “Yes. And we were nearly sixteen when we escaped. So yes, fifteen.”

“But you know about Blanche and Noire sooner?” Willow asked. Magpie nodded. “Since when?”

Magpie shrugged. “Since forever. We were in the same wing when we underwent Cipher’s attempts to input their Shadow Corruption Program into us. Their cell was just down the hall from mine. I would sometimes see them being transported around the lab. I didn’t realize that they did not know about me.” They reached for the cup of water Sparrow held, and Sparrow brought the straw to their lips again while they drank. Sparrow’s help wasn’t necessary. Magpie could hold the cup just fine on their own, but they accepted Sparrow’s help. “I was transferred to a different laboratory, and a short while later I heard that the lab had been raided and the Blanche taken. I didn’t realize that the other one had been taken too until they both started appearing on the news several years ago. Cipher didn’t care about that one.”

Blanche flinched and sucked in a breath. Their eyes dropped to the floor. Their guard dropped enough for raw agony to show in their eyes. Cipher considered them such a failure that they hadn’t even been worth reporting stolen. Noire’s hands clenched into fists at their sides, but they said nothing even when Blanche caught them looking and glared.

Magpie noticed the interaction and looked like they might say something, but Willow asked them another question. “What’s your designation? In the Shadow Corruption Program?”

“Well, that’s neither relevant nor any of your business,” Magpie said with another smile.

Willow and Sabrina both blinked. They recognized the barb beneath the words. Recovering, Willow looked at Sparrow and repeated the question. Sparrow just shrugged. As a last resort, Willow appealed to Merle.

“If Magpie does not want to tell you, then I will not tell you either,” Merle declared, and leaned up to kiss Magpie’s cheek, making Magpie smile, a smile that lit their green eyes because it was genuine. None of their previous smiles had been bright like that.

Hm.

It went downhill from there. Willow asked Magpie where they were from and they didn’t answer, just continued to coo at Merle and play with the child’s hair. He asked whether there were any other siblings or clones, and Magpie shrugged and said, “Seems likely,” and put a small braid in Merle’s hair that they had no way to secure.

Sparrow, meanwhile, had relaxed and was sitting cross-legged against the wall. They were sitting close enough to Noire that Noire could, if they wanted, reach across the few inches of space between them to brush their fingertips through Sparrow’s hair. But any question that Magpie refused to answer Sparrow wouldn’t answer either. Instead they watched the room through half-lidded eyes, face as blank as a clean slate.

Frustrated, Willow turned to Sabrina, who had let him carry on the questioning. She flicked her long black hair over her shoulder and stood straighter. “Magpie, can we assume that you and Sparrow went to that Cipher lab to look for Merle?” she asked.

“Mm, yes, I think it’s safe to assume that,” Magpie replied, looking amused. “They weren’t there, but we found them anyway. I’m so glad.” They beamed at Merle, who beamed back, their whole face scrunching up with joy.

With a jealous jolt, Noire realized that they had never seen Merle happy, really happy. And they were overjoyed to be here, with Magpie, even though it was a hospital and scary for them.

Noire felt a pang of unease, but it was pushed aside as Sabrina leaned over Magpie. “How are you feeling?” she asked. “You look a bit pale.”

Magpie eyed her for a moment, then shrugged. “There’s some pain, but I’ve had worse,” they admitted, glancing down at Merle.

Sabrina’s eyebrows raised, and Magpie noticed. “What?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t expect you to admit it,” she murmured. She straightened. “It will be a couple of days before you’re able to be discharged. Merle seems insistent on staying here with you. I would rather they come home with me, but-”

“I am home,” Merle interrupted. Their hand was clenched in the pale blue material of Magpie’s hospital gown.

“What?”

“My home is wherever Magpie is,” Merle explained.

Noire’s unease grew even as Magpie wrapped their arms around Merle and dropped a kiss on the top of Merle’s head. “I understand, sweetheart. But it really would be better for you to spend the night in a bed.”

“But I want to stay with you!”

Magpie bit their lip, staring into Merle’s eyes. There was some internal conflict going on. Noire didn’t want Sabrina’s powers - why would they want to see into other people’s sick minds? - but they wished they knew what Magpie was thinking.

Seeing Magpie’s hesitation, Merle pressed their advantage. They knelt on the mattress and placed a hand on each side of Magpie’s face, trying to convey their seriousness by boring into Magpie’s eyes with their own. “Sparrow and I slept on the floor here last night. With Blanche. I don’t mind doing it again. Please. I don’t want to be away from you!”

Impossible not to give in to a plea like that, so Noire wasn’t surprised when Magpie huffed out a breath and murmured an okay. Merle’s little face lit up, and they burrowed in for another hug.

“Gently, Merle!” Magpie protested. “You keep forgetting to be gentle.”

“I’m sorry,” Merle said, shamefaced. They withdrew, then slid off the bed completely. “I will stay down here so that you may rest and feel better quickly. Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Magpie said, closing their eyes. “Yeah, Merle, that’s fine.”

“I’m staying wherever Magpie is,” Sparrow announced, speaking for the first time in a while. They kept their eyes closed, leaning their head against the wall. “I can sleep anywhere.”

Noire, Willow, Blanche, and Sabrina withdrew just outside the door to discuss the situation.

“I don’t know about leaving the three of them unsupervised,” Willow said, glancing back through the partially open door to where Merle and Sparrow were gathered around Magpie’s bed. “Last night was one thing. Magpie wasn’t conscious, and Sparrow wasn’t about to abandon them-”

“Professor, I was here to keep an eye on them last night,” Blanche said. It was obvious to Noire that they were stung that Willow seemed to have forgotten them. “They weren’t unsupervised. I can stay again if you have concerns.”

Willow rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing as he thought. “I know you want to stay Blanche, but between this and the trip to Orre, you have a lot of work to catch up on. Annie’s been covering what she can, but there’s too much that only you can do. If you could take a day to get caught up on that first...”

Blanche was hurt and angry, but was either unable or unwilling to come up with an argument. Their gaze dropped to the floor.

And since there was an opening, Noire took it. “I’ll stay with them, then,” they declared, basking in the outraged look Blanche sent them. “This place gives me the crawls, but I’ll stay for Merle.”

“Professor!” Blanche objected.

“All right,” Willow said. At Blanche’s betrayed look, Willow lifted a hand to placate them. “I know. I don’t see eye-to-eye with Noire and Sabrina a lot of the time, either. But I trust that they have Merle’s best interests at heart. It will be fine.”

Blanche subsided, but they were furious and making no attempt to hide it. They did not speak as Willow and Sabrina discussed plans for making the siblings’ stay more comfortable. When Willow ushered Blanche toward the door they went, but their back and arms were so stiff that Noire fully expected Blanche to hit something at the first given opportunity.

When they were alone, Sabrina turned to Noire. “Keep an eye on Magpie.”

Noire blinked. “Sure, Auntie. I’m gonna keep an eye on everyone.”

Sabrina flicked a hand impatiently. “Yes, yes. But especially keep an eye on Magpie. Don’t let them out of your sight, especially if they try to take Merle somewhere.”

Noire thought about how Merle looked at Magpie, like the sun was shining out of their face. Their stomach dropped. Merle would go anywhere if Magpie told them to. “I think Magpie’s too roughed up to try to take Merle anywhere, but I’ll keep an eye out,” they promised.”

“I think they’re someone who is used to putting pain out of their mind and powering through it,” Sabrina retorted. “So please do.”

“I will.”

Satisfied, Sabrina pulled her phone out of her purse to check the time. “I have a meeting to get to, but I’ll give you a call later to check in. Call me if anything happens. I don’t care how late it is.”

“Sure. See ya later.”

Noire watched her go, then glanced at the locked and coded door of the hospital room. They hoped that Sabrina’s concerns were unfounded, but hell, they weren’t the psychic.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Blanche spent the next day in such a vicious temper that not even Spark's detour to their office to show off a clutch of newly-hatched Mudkip kits could pull them out of. They did spend a good hour lying on the floor on their back, letting the Mudkip climb all over them and listening to Spark regale them with Mudkip facts. Then it was back to work. They surfaced for lunch, but only because Annie made them by threatening to pour a tureen of soup down their throat. There was a mad gleam in her eye that told Blanche it was not an idle threat.

By the time they finally clocked out for the day, they were satisfied that they were fully caught up on all of their work. They fired off their reports to Professor Willow and headed to the hospital.

He would have no reason to send them away now.

They tried not to think about the fact that Noire had had almost 24 hours to wiggle their way into Magpie and Sparrow’s good graces while Blanche was otherwise occupied. Blanche could walk into the room and find that Noire had turned the other two against them.

The thought made them hesitate in the middle of punching in the door code. No, no, that was ridiculous. Noire could try to ensure that they were the favoured sibling, but they could not succeed in only a day.

Right?

Fed up with themself, Blanche shoved the door open with more force than necessary. And blinked down in surprise. Sparrow was sprawled on the floor just inside the door, which narrowly missed hitting their head when it opened. They stared up at Blanche with solemn green eyes.

“Hello, Blanche. Did you have a good day at work?” Sparrow asked politely.

Blanche couldn’t imagine that they actually cared about the answer. “...It was fine.”

Sparrow nodded as though this was the expected response, and rolled out of the way so that Blanche could step inside. Still, Blanche hesitated in the doorway. They felt silly, suddenly, for their quick detour to the hospital gift shop to buy flowers, especially when Noire sent them a quick amused look.

Merle perched on the bed facing Magpie, who sat cross-legged against the raised head of the bed. There were playing cards scattered between them. When the door opened, Merle twisted around. Blanche’s heart thumped when Merle smiled at them.

“Blanche!” Merle exclaimed, slipping off the bed and darting over. Playing cards scattered over the floor, but Merle didn’t seem to notice. “I was not sure you would come. Oooooh! Magpie, look! Blanche brought flowers for you.”

“I-” Blanche stammered, but Merle tugged on their arm, urging them into the room. The child was strong, though perhaps that should not surprise them. Blanche followed automatically, shoving the bouquet of bright tulips at Magpie. They stared at Merle’s small fingers wrapped around their arm so that they wouldn’t have to make eye contact. “Get well soon?” Blanche managed to say, finally.

Noire snorted, and Blanche was too taut with nerves to send them a glare. They finally worked up the nerve to look at Magpie.

Magpie set their cards down with a small sound of surprise and reached for the flowers that Blanche held out to them with sweaty hands. Magpie smiled, the expression drawn out of them with reluctance. “Thank you,” they murmured as Blanche’s hands dropped to their sides. “I love flowers. Did Merle tell you?”

“No,” Blanche and Merle said together. Merle stooped to retrieve the cards and then clambered back onto the bed. They brushed their hair out of their face as they passed the cards to Magpie, and Blanche noticed that Merle was starting to look a little grubby. They could use a bath.

“Blanche brought me flowers when I was in the hospital, too,” Merle said. Blanche flushed. They had forgotten about that.

“When was that?” Magpie asked with a frown.

“When I first came here. I broke my arm trying to get away from Cipher, so I had to be in the hospital for a while.”

They hadn't been hospitalized only because of their broken arm, but Blanche saw no reason to correct them.

Before Magpie could ask more questions, the doorknob started to turn. Magpie tensed, and Sparrow was suddenly right next to the door. They appeared relaxed, but one of their hands slid into their pocket. Blanche eyed them. Sparrow shouldn't have managed acquire a weapon, but...

The door opened, and Professor Willow stepped into the room with an automatic smile for its occupants. Sparrow relaxed at the sight of the familiar face and returned to Magpie's side without a word.

Professor Willow didn’t seem to realize that he had just run the risk of being stabbed. He smiled at everyone, but he looked tired. “Hello!” he greeted. Noire was sitting in the sole chair, so he stood in the middle of the room. “Magpie, I’m told you’ve made a remarkable recovery.”

“I heal fast,” Magpie said, holding their arms out and gathering Merle close to them.

“Very fast,” Professor Willow agreed. “So much so that the doctors can’t think of a reason to keep you here any longer. You’re being released.”

Merle brightened. “That is good news, right?” Merle asked, twisting around to look at Magpie’s face.

“Yes,” Magpie agreed. “It will be nice to get out of here. The smell makes me twitchy.”

Blanche wholeheartedly agreed.

“Now,” Professor Willow continued, “there is the matter of where you will be staying-”

“I want to go with Magpie!” Merle blurted. Their hands formed claws that dug into the material of Magpie’s hospital gown, hiking it up. Blanche noticed a marking peek out from the cloth above Magpie's upper thigh, like a tattoo. Then Merle shifted and they couldn’t see it anymore.

”Hush, mon petit,” Magpie cooed in French. ”Just listen for a moment. Let’s see what he says.”

“I thought Merle might say that,” Professor Willow said. “So I already discussed it with Sabrina. She’s fine with having two extra house guests. But behave.”

“We will. Thank you, Monsieur,” Sparrow said. They stared at Magpie in expectant silence.

Magpie frowned while everyone watched them. They didn’t like the idea, Blanche realized. But why? They clearly didn’t want to be separated from Merle any more than Merle wanted to be separated from them. Staying with Sabrina was the logical solution.

“We could find our own place to say,” Magpie said. They stroked Merle’s hair absently. “Though, my wallet... you did not recover it when you brought us here?”

“No, sorry. It must have gotten lost in the chaos. And Sparrow wasn’t carrying one,” Professor Willow said.

Magpie sighed. “No, generally they do not. I suppose it can’t be helped then. Are we going right now?”

“Absolutely! I’ll take them,” Noire volunteered. Blanche scowled, but they couldn’t think of any reason to argue. It did make more sense for Noire to go. But they hated the thought. It felt like letting Noire win.

Magpie frowned again. “Will Blanche be coming with us?” they asked. They glanced at Blanche as they said it, and Blanche was surprised by the silent plea they saw there. Magpie didn’t know them. There was no reason for their presence to be desired. But it was. That was clear.

The happy glow that resulted from this realization had to be the cause of the next words that popped out of Blanche's mouth. “I can drive them, Professor. I seems that Magpie would be more comfortable with that,” they said. Magpie’s grateful look warmed them even as it baffled them. Noire looked equally baffled, and maybe even a bit hurt. One of the most frustrating things about Noire was that nothing seemed to faze them for long. Like nothing mattered.

Noire smiled and held out a bag to Magpie. “Here. I had Amelie pick out some clothes for you. Sorry it’s just one set, we figured you’d want to pick out your own once you’re feeling better.”

“Thank you.” Magpie opened the bag and pulled out a soft yellow sweater and blue jeans. Neither Blanche nor Noire wore yellow often, due to their acquaintance with a certain Instinct leader who took it way too personally, but Blanche assumed that Amelie had tried to choose a colour that wasn’t associated with either of the twins.

“Do you mind leaving while I change? Sparrow and Merle can stay,” Magpie said.

Professor Willow and Blanche headed for the door, but Noire remained rooted to the spot. They were frowning at Magpie when Blanche looked back. Was that suspicion in Noire's eyes?

Magpie caught the look and smiled, amused. “I’m not going to run away, Noire. I just want privacy,” they said. “I can’t go anywhere anyway. My last attempt to break through the window was unsuccessful.” They gestured at the window, which they had broken in their previous room but had not managed to get through the bars.

Noire hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. But be fast,” they said. They marched past Blanche out of the room, without seeming to hear Magpie’s murmured “thank you.”

##

Magpie was dressed and out of the room with Sparrow and Merle in tow in under five minutes. Noire paced the whole time they waited, occasionally pausing to press their ear to the door and nodding as if satisfied before they resumed their pacing.

Magpie walked right up to Blanche. “Do you happen to have a spare hair elastic? My hair is very dirty, and I would like to tie it up,” they said.

Blanche blinked. “Ah,” they said, hands fumbling at their pockets before they had fully processed the request. “Yes,” they said when their fingers found one. “Here.”

“Oh, perfect. Thank you so much.” Magpie took the elastic and twisted their hair up into a messy bun. They patted it to make sure the hair was in place, then dropped their hands and looked around with interest.

“I am dirty too,” Merle chimed in. “We both need baths.” Merle slipped their hand into Magpie’s and smiled.

“Make that three of us,” Sparrow murmured, taking Merle’s other hand.

Ignoring Noire completely, Magpie returned their attention to Blanche. “Please lead the way. We will follow.”

Blanche nodded. “See you later, Professor,” they said. The group made their way to Blanche’s car as a chain, which was a strange experience for Blanche. Magpie, true to their word, followed behind Blanche. Merle tended to walk half a step behind Magpie, and Sparrow was walking half a step behind Merle, as if to signify that Blanche was the leader. Merle bobbed their joined hands absentmindedly as they walked. Noire, looking forlorn, brought up the rear, but broke off to go to their own vehicle once the group reached the parking lot.

When they reached the car, Merle released their siblings' hands and Blanche got into the driver’s seat. Magpie and Sparrow both settled in the back seat with Merle between them. Merle scooted over to be as close to Magpie as they could. After doing up their seat belt, they laid their head on Magpie’s arm and closed their eyes.

Blanche’s heart, which had been buoyed by Magpie’s apparent preference for them over Noire, flopped.

##

“Oh, it’s big,” Sparrow said in surprise when Merle pointed out the condo tower where they lived with Sabrina.

“Sabrina does not live in the whole thing. Just the big unit at the top,” Merle explained.

Sparrow still looked impressed when Blanche ushered them through the building and up to Sabrina’s front door. It was opened by Noire, which did not improve Blanche’s mood. Just how far over the speed limit had Noire gone in order to get there first?

“Hey kiddo, took you long enough,” Noire said, enveloping Merle in a hug. They shot Magpie a look, but stepped back to let the four of them inside. “Are you hungry? Auntie ordered pizza.”

Blanche hesitated. On the one hand, sitting with Noire and Sabrina for a convivial meal would feel so strange and nostalgic that they wanted to refuse instantly. But they looked at Merle, who had tucked their hands back into Magpie’s and Sparrow’s the instant they had exited the car and was smiling up at them as they gave their siblings a tour of Sabrina’s home.

“Look, here is where you put your shoes.”

“This is the living room. When Noire and Mlle. Amelie come over to visit, we watch movies here.”

“Here’s the bathroom. And this is my room. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. It looks cozy,” Sparrow murmured in reply, and Merle beamed.

Magpie simply did a slow turn, then nodded. Merle’s smile faded and their brow furrowed as they tried to decide if this meant approval or not.

Blanche’s heart did that painful flop again. No, they couldn’t leave. Walking away from Merle now would feel like handing them over to Magpie and Sparrow. Still, they weren’t willing to just flop down with Noire and Sabrina and make themself comfortable, so they trailed awkwardly after their three other siblings instead.

Luckily, Sabrina didn’t follow them into Merle’s room. Blanche left the door open and perched on the edge of the bed while Merle insisted that Sparrow sit next to them on the bean bag chair Noire had gotten for them. Merle was still talking, explaining something to Sparrow in a low voice, but Blanche had stopped listening. Noire was hovering in the doorway, staring at Merle and Sparrow with an expression that Blanche couldn’t read.

Then Noire met their eyes, and Blanche understood.

Noire was just as stunned and uncertain as they were.

“Oh, I did not introduce you!” Merle said suddenly, in the middle of showing Sparrow their English homework. They closed the book with a snap and stood to place it on the desk at the top of their precise stack of textbooks. They tucked their hair behind their ears in a sudden display of nerves and offered Blanche and Noire a tentative smile. “This is Sparrow. They are one of my siblings,” Merle said, gesturing at Sparrow.

“And this is Magpie. They are another of my siblings, and one of my Mamans.”

Magpie winced. “One of them, yes,” they murmured. They were poking through Merle's bookshelf, scanning titles and pulling books out to read the summaries on the back.

Sparrow smiled, but it was more polite than warm. “We were already introduced to Blanche and Noire,” they said in their quiet voice, using the proper French pronunciation of the names. “Blanche is the head of Team Mystic, and Noire is an executive member of Rocket Industries, are they not?” They glanced between the two. “We have also seen them on the television.”

They were both public figures. It’s not like their identities were a secret.

“Pizza’s here!” Sabrina called from downstairs.

Further talk was curtailed as the group migrated to the kitchen and dining area, where Sabrina was laying greasy brown pizza boxes out on the table. Merle disappeared into the kitchen to get plates and napkins. Blanche lurked on the outskirts, unsure of where to fit in the homey scene before them. It took them a moment to realize that Sparrow was doing the same, and that they had edged closer to Blanche. Magpie, for their part, seemed at ease in the unfamiliar surroundings. They plopped down at the table and rested their chin on their hands as they waited for everyone to join them.

Unexpectedly, it was Merle who took pity on Blanche.

“I would like Blanche and Magpie to sit next to me,” the child said, settling down between Magpie and an empty chair and glancing hopefully around, as though they feared that this small desire would be refused. “Sparrow, would you like to sit on Blanche’s other side?”

And just like that, Merle had spared Blanche the awkwardness of having to sit next to Noire or Sabrina. Blanche settled down gratefully. Sparrow’s presence wasn’t a source of comfort, but they were picking mushrooms off their pizza and didn’t seem inclined to converse, which was a relief.

“Thank you,” Blanche murmured to Merle, who gave them a small smile. Blanche had tried to get to know Merle, spent time with them, and tried hard to bond, but they had not realized that Merle could be kind. They might have done their younger sibling a disservice by assuming that their trauma meant that they could not.

Chapter Text

Noire sat kiddie-corner to Magpie with a slice of greasy pizza in their hand, but they couldn’t get Magpie to talk to them.

Magpie wasn’t rude. They would answer direct questions - in the briefest, most impersonal manner possible. Magpie spent most of the meal with their head bent down to Merle’s, talking quietly. When Noire or Sabrina addressed them, they flashed that bright, fake smile and answered, and shut down the conversation as quickly as possible to return their attention to Merle. It was done so smoothly and so politely that it was easy to believe it wasn’t happening, except that Magpie reacted differently to Blanche.

Noire searched their memory, trying to think of what the hell they might have done to piss Magpie off.

“Do your wounds still hurt?” Blanche asked Magpie, and was that genuine concern in their voice? Noire frowned at their pizza when Magpie smiled at Blanche.

Magpie had to lean forward to speak to Blanche around Merle. “A little,” Magpie admitted. “But as I said, I do heal fast. I should be fine in a few days. Sparrow, please eat properly,” they added.

After shedding their gloves, Sparrow had picked all the toppings off of their pizza and sorted them into piles on their plate. Now they shredded the crust into long strips, which was what earned Magpie’s disapproval.

Sparrow frowned and nudged the strips around their plate, refusing to look at Magpie. They mumbled something to their sibling, but their Kalosian accent when speaking French was so thick that Noire couldn’t quite catch it. Whatever it was they’d said, it made Magpie sigh and shake their head in disapproval before they turned their attention back to their own food. Sparrow continued shredding the crust, and not a single crumb made it into their mouth while Noire watched.

Sparrow kept glancing at Magpie. They were agitated and trying to catch Magpie’s eye.

With a huff, Magpie turned to them. “What is it now, Sparrow?”

“Can I ask?”

Magpie’s fingers were busy holding a slice of pepperoni up to Merle’s mouth to coax them to eat, but their attention was fully on Sparrow. Their brow furrowed, the expression similar to the one that was often on Merle’s face when they were puzzled. “Ask...? Oh, right. Yes, ask away.” Magpie flapped their free hand in a ‘whatever you want’ gesture and opened their mouth when Merle reciprocated by offering them a tiny piece of crust.

The look Sparrow sent Sabrina was determined. “Madame, when I was brought here, my pokeballs were taken from me. When will they be returned?” The words snapped out, but Sparrow’s fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on the table.

Sabrina eyed them over the rim of her mug as she took a delicate sip of coffee. Her amused eyes flicked to Blanche, and Noire could see Blanche’s hackles go up. “I believe they’re currently in the care of the Go Program. You’ll have to talk to Blanche and Professor Willow about that.”

“When?” Sparrow shot out, making Blanche jump.

Blanche glanced around, ill at ease in hostile territory. “I’ll speak to the Professor about it tomorrow,” they promised. “He’s my boss, so it’s up to him.”

Sparrow frowned, but nodded. “Fine. If that’s how it must be.” They shoved up from the table. “Where can I wash my hands?”

Always eager to skip out at mealtime, Merle popped out of their chair to show Sparrow where the bathroom was. They dragged their feet on the way back. Their lips settled in a pout when Magpie leveled them with a stare, and Merle dropped into their chair. Magpie plucked up their pizza and held it to Merle’s mouth. Merle took a bite. They brushed their hair out of their face with the heel of their hand so that their greasy fingers didn’t dirty it, then they picked up their own pizza and held it to Magpie’s mouth. Magpie took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully.

Magpie caught Noire looking and shrugged. “Merle eats better when we share,” they said, a challenge in their tone.

When everyone was finished eating, Blanche fled from the table with the excuse that they were going to find Sparrow, who had never returned from the bathroom. Noire cornered Magpie in the hallway while Merle helped Sabrina pack away leftover pizza.

“What is it?” Magpie asked, looking up at them with that bland expression that grated on Noire’s nerves.

With a jolt, Noire realized that Magpie was shorter than them. It hadn’t been surprising at the hospital - Magpie had been barefoot, and Noire wore platform shoes. But now they were both in socks, and Magpie was still a good two inches shorter than Noire. Not quite identical, after all.

Noire shook it off and returned to the task at hand. “I could ask you that. You have a problem with me, or what?” they demanded.

Magpie’s head tilted. If anything, their expression had gotten even blander. “What do you mean?” they asked.

“This!” Noire’s gestured at Magpie with both hands.

Eyebrow raised, Magpie asked, “All of me?”

“The attitude!”

“Oh.” Magpie leaned back until their shoulders bumped the wall behind them. Their eyes dropped from Noire’s as they thought. Then they shrugged, flashing an unconcerned smile. “Well, it’s not personal. I will try to be more polite.”

“That’s not what-” Noire began, but Magpie had already brushed past them down the hallway. They paused at the end and glanced over their shoulder at Noire.

“Which way to Merle’s room again?” they asked, though the laughter in their eyes told Noire that they already knew.

##

They found their remaining siblings in Merle’s room, except for Blanche. Blanche had apparently escaped while Noire was talking to Magpie. Magpie plunked down in the beanbag chair next to Sparrow and Merle, who were sitting cross-legged on the floor. Merle was showing Sparrow one of their notebooks. Sparrow didn’t look interested, but they didn’t interrupt when Merle pointed something out and explained it.

Noire stood in the doorway, scowling. Magpie could play dumb all they wanted, but it was obvious that Magpie had some kind of problem with Noire. A problem they didn’t have with Blanche.

Because Noire was the Blanche?

Noire’s gut twisted. It mde a sick kind of sense. Even now, Noire was touted as the only Blanche the Shadow Corruption Program had ever recorded. Maybe Magpie resented them for that. Especially if they were a Claire, like Blanche. After all, the bastards at Cipher had wreaked havoc on Blanche’s self esteem for being a “failure.” Maybe it was the same for Magpie, and they harboured resentment over it.

##

That night, Sparrow slept sprawled on the floor of Merle’s room while Magpie shared the bed with Merle. Noire went back to their own apartment, but only because Sabrina assured them that she had everything well under control.

Noire was back at Sabrina’s bright and early the next morning, and walked in on what appeared to be breakfast preparations. They assumed that because Magpie was sitting at the table while Sabrina loomed over them with a frying pan an an exasperated expression. Their other two siblings were nowhere in sight.

“Is there anything Sparrow will eat?” Sabrina demanded, sounding aggrieved. She slammed the frying pan down on the stove, next to an opened pack of bacon.

Magpie shrugged. “Not much,” they said. “Oatmeal porridge, plain yogurt, smoothies... they’re really fussy about textures.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes at Noire and started laying strips of bacon in neat lines in the pan. “Well, there are yogurt cups in the fridge,” she said.

Magpie got up and opened the fridge door to investigate. They made a pleased sound. “Oh, vanilla. Perfect.”

Magpie took three cartons out of the fridge and stacked them in a pyramid in front of an empty spot at the table.

“Good morning Noire,” Merle said as they slipped around Noire into the kitchen. Like Magpie, their hair was damp. Noire ruffled it anyway, making the child squint with displeasure.

“Noire, I just brushed it!” Merle protested, smoothing their disordered hair with their hands. Their pout deepened when Noire smirked.

Noire moved like they were going to ruffle it again, and Merle squeaked and darted out of arm’s reach. They settled next to Magpie at the table and gripped their sleeve. Noire was briefly entertained by the thought of Merle using Magpie as a human shield against hair ruffling when the buzzer sounded.

“I’ll get it,” Noire said, anticipating Sabrina when she glanced in their direction. She nodded and returned her attention to the sizzling bacon as Noire left the kitchen.

To Noire’s astonishment, it was Blanche at the door. After a stunned beat during which neither of them spoke, Noire asked, “you want me to buzz you up?”

They could almost hear Blanche grimace through the receiver. “No,” Blanche replied. “I’m just here to drop something off for Sparrow on my way to work. They can come down and get it.”

The message was clear: I don’t want to see you.

“Fine.”

Sparrow was just leaving the bathroom when Noire went to deliver the message. Puzzled by the request, Sparrow glanced at Magpie for direction. Magpie shrugged.

“It should be fine,” Magpie said. “But if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’ll come looking for you.”

Noire didn’t know what Magpie expected to happen to Sparrow, but Sparrow nodded and went. Noire went to the kitchen window and peered out, pressing their forehead against the glass in a vain attempt to see what was happening at street level.

Sparrow returned before Magpie could consider forming a rescue party. There was a huge - for them - grin on their face as they came into the kitchen. “Magpie, look!” Sparrow exclaimed. They held out their hands, showing off the pokeballs they were holding.

Before it occurred to anyone to stop them, Sparrow released the pokemon in both balls. Sabrina started to move forward and Noire instinctively moved to block Merle as a Hoothoot and a Meowstic emerged from the pokeballs.

“Blanche got them back for me!” Sparrow announced, oblivious to the tension.

“That’s great Sparrow,” Magpie said from behind Noire, and sounded like they meant it. “I’m so glad.”

Small hands gripped the back of Noire’s shirt. Merle peered around Noire, keeping their older sibling’s body between them and the pokemon. Noire’s protectiveness increased tenfold. If Sparrow’s pokemon scared Merle-

But Merle took one look at the pokemon that were rubbing affectionately against Sparrow and relaxed against Noire.

“Oh good, it’s my friends,” Merle said. To Noire’s astonishment, Merle went around them to go greet the pokemon.

The Hoothoot paused in preening Sparrow’s hair and tilted its head to stare at Merle as they approached. It let out a happy hoot and lit into the air, flying up to bump against Merle’s face. Merle giggled and turned their face away. They caught the Hoothoot between their hands and tucked it into their elbow like a ball. “Hi, Pepin,” they cooed, scritching the pokemon’s head. Hoothoot’s eyes drooped half-closed in pleasure.

There was silence except for Merle’s happy cooing. Noire and Sabrina glanced at each other, Noire surprised and Sabrina bemused. Magpie was smirking, clearly entertained, while Sparrow continued to smile, oblivious to everything but their happy reunion with their pokemon.

Chapter Text

Spark pulled a tray of gingerbread men out of the oven and brought it to the table where Merle and Grisaille were waiting. Bowls of coloured icing and bright candies surrounded the tray as he set it down. Merle reached for one of the gingerbread cookies, but Spark deflected their hand gently.

“Careful, kiddo. They need to cool down first,” he said, laughing.

Merle pouted and stole a Skittle instead, popping it in their mouth while Spark transferred the gingerbread men to a cooling rack. The group had gathered in Spark’s apartment to celebrate Christmas after much arguing between the adults in Merle’s life had everyone agreeing that it was the most neutral place that wasn’t renting somewhere for the holiday.

“Why don’t you two go help Blanche and Noire decorate the tree?” Spark suggested, hoping to deter cookie thievery. “It looks like they’ve finally got the lights on. I’ll call you when the cookies are cool enough to decorate.”

Spark had left the tree deliberately bare so that he could get cute pictures of the kids decorating it. Annie seemed to have that covered, hovering behind Blanche with her camera pressed to her eye as they argued with Noire about whether tinsel should be put on the tree before the ornaments or after. Annie loved cosplay, and was dressed in a short green elf outfit with striped stockings in the spirit of the holiday, but Grisaille was wearing the hat.

Merle shrugged and snagged a jujube before they slid off their chair and grabbed Grisaille’s hand. The two children navigated the boxes of fragile ornaments stacked around the living area until they reached their older siblings. Grisaille released Merle and edged toward Blanche, examining the tree with a serious expression.

“May we assist you with decorating the tree?” Grisaille asked. Merle was already crouching down and opening a box of silver balls, but Grisaille waited for Blanche’s smile and nod before crouching down next to Merle. Merle handed Grisaille an ornament, and Grisaille watched how Merle hung one on the tree before mimicking them. Both pretended not to notice Annie’s camera busily clicking away behind them.

Spark’s collection of ornaments turned out to be a hodge-podge of traditional glass, handmade, and kitschy garage sale finds. Merle seemed tickled by the more novel ornaments, while Grisaille stuck with the more traditional glass balls. As a result, Merle and Noire’s side of the tree ended up a garish mess while Blanche and Grisaille’s side was lovely and traditional.

Blanche looked at the result and winced, but opted not to say anything because Merle looked so pleased with themselves. “Look, Blanche, there’s a psyduck driving a tractor!” Merle pointed to one of the ornaments with delight.

Blanche bit their tongue and smiled. “Great,” they said, and were rewarded when Merle beamed at them.

While Noire attempted to put a disco ball atop the tree and Blanche objected, starting an argument, Merle watched Grisaille drape tinsel strand-by-strand over the branches of the artificial tree. Grisaille tugged the ends to make sure they were perfectly even before moving on to the next strand.

Merle thought it would take a hundred years for them to finish.

“Is that how you’re going to put the tinsel on?” they asked, tone polite.

“Yes. It should be tidy,” Grisaille replied. Only five branches had tinsel strands draped over them so far.

“...I will go see if Spark needs help,” Merle said after they watched for another moment and decided that they could not endure this without grabbing handfuls of tinsel and throwing it at the tree. They slid off the couch and padded back to the kitchen table. After poking a cookie, they decided it was cool enough to decorate. “Spark! Can I get started on these?” they asked, their hands already hovering over the icing.

Spark glanced over from his position at the stove and smiled. “Sure! Where’s Gris?”

“Tinsel,” Merle said, indicating the tree with a jerk of their chin.

Both watched Grisaille’s slow progress for a few minutes. “Wow,” Spark said finally. “They do know it doesn’t have to be perfect, right?”

Merle shrugged and began decorating the cookies. With great care, they did their best approximation of Sabrina, Blanche, and Noire in icing. They were working on Grisaille when the apartment door flew open and Candela clomped in on red high heeled boots trimmed in white faux fur. She was wearing a short, snug red dress that showed a great deal of leg and cleavage. It was only thanks to Moltres that she didn’t freeze both off in the frigid December weather. She dropped an enormous red sack next to the Christmas tree and plunked herself down at the table.

“Merry Christmas!” she cheered, obviously more than halfway inebriated. The Santa hat was plucked from her hair and dropped onto Merle’s head. “Oh, don’t you just look adorable!” she cooed. “Come see what Santa Candela brought for you in her bag of gifts.”

Merle frowned. “I thought that a Delibird was supposed to deliver presents on Christmas,” they said.

“I jumped him and stole his stuff,” Candela retorted. Leaning across Merle, she snatched up the Noire cookie and, before Merle could object, bit its head off.

Merle gasped, appalled. “Miss Candela! I made that for Noire!”

“S’okay,” Candela said around a mouthful of crumbs. “I improved it.”

After dropping the headless Noire back on the plate, she sauntered over to the sack and began to rifle through it. As she pulled out presents, Merle glared at the cookie she had ruined, calculating how many cookies remained and whether they would have enough to replace the damaged one and still decorate the others as they wanted. They were one short.

Later, after Candela had handed out presents and lost a drinking game against Carl, she came over to see what Merle was doing as they handed out cookies.

“One for Blanche,” Merle said, handing it to their older sibling. Blanche accepted it. There was a line of white icing going down from the side of their head that stopped around the cookie’s legs that was clearly intended to be their ponytail, and Merle had done their best to render Blanche’s coat in blue icing and coloured sprinkles.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” Blanche said.

“You’re supposed to eat it,” Merle said when Blanche continued to stare at it. They moved on, handing Noire and Amelie their cookies. Then Spark, Sabrina, Professor Willow, Carl, Annie, and Go.

Candela tugged on their sleeve. “Where’s mine?” she asked.

Looking her dead in the eyes, Merle handed her the headless Noire cookie.

“Merry Christmas.”

Chapter Text

“I’m okay with Pepin,” Merle assured Noire. Again. Truly, they appreciated their elder sibling’s concern, but Noire should know by now that Merle wouldn’t allow a pokemon near them unless they were okay.

Pepin had busily preened Merle’s hair, turning it into a mess, before settling fat and happy in Merle’s lap with a good portion of Sparrow’s breakfast in his feathered belly.

(Magpie had not allowed Merle to feed any of their breakfast to Pepin. This struck Merle as unfair.)

Merle had overcome their grumpiness over the issue. They gave the Hoothoot sleeping on their lap gentle pats while they watched Magpie.

Had Sparrow noticed, Merle wondered. They did not think so. Merle peeked from under their lashes at Sparrow, who appeared to be having an extensive conversation with Mignon, their Meowstic.

Merle looked back to Magpie, tuning out Noire’s chatter and picture-taking. Magpie was sitting straight and when they caught Merle looking, Magpie offered a smile that appeared genuine. But Merle could not be imagining the paleness of Magpie’s skin or the light sheen of sweat on their face.

“What is it?” Magpie asked. They sounded normal, but Merle was already convinced that Magpie was feeling poorly. Magpie had always been good at concealing pain. All of Merle’s siblings were like that, though Ciel had been known to whine for sympathy.

“If you do not feel well, you should go lie down on my bed and sleep,” Merle said.

The smile dropped from Magpie’s face. Merle felt guilty for causing Magpie discomfort, but Magpie’s physical well-being was important to them.

“You are still recovering,” Merle continued when Magpie did not reply. “Sleep helps with the healing process, yes? I will go with you if you feel nervous.”

Magpie’s smile returned with a rueful edge. “I did not expect to have my own words turned on me,” Magpie murmured, calling to Merle’s mind the very first time they had been rescued from Cipher, when nothing felt safe and everything hurt. Magpie had been so kind and so patient, and had taken good care of them back then.

“I could use more rest,” Magpie said. “But I’m not sure I can stand.”

“I’ll help you,” Noire offered, setting their phone aside and leaping to their feet.

Merle, watching Magpie’s face, wondered if Magpie had actually cringed or if Merle had imagined it.

“Thank you, Noire, but I would prefer Sparrow.” Magpie’s eyes avoided Noire’s.

Noire looked hurt, but moved aside as Sparrow stepped up and hoisted Magpie into their arms.

Merle followed them into the hallway. Perhaps they should have said something comforting to Noire, but they couldn’t think of anything, so they said nothing as they followed Sparrow and Magpie into their room.

“I did not say ‘carry me, Sparrow’,” Magpie said.

Sparrow shrugged and set Magpie on the bed. “You’re always pushing yourself too hard,” Sparrow said. “This seemed like a good idea.” There was a pause, then Sparrow frowned and their brows furrowed. “Was it the wrong thing to do?” they asked, switching from calm to anxious with their typical abruptness.

Magpie sighed. “No, it was fine. Thank you, Sparrow,” they said, even though it was obvious to Merle that Magpie would have preferred Sparrow not carry them.

But Sparrow’s face relaxed at the reassurance, and they began to tuck the blankets around Magpie.

“Are you going to have a sleep too, Baby?” Sparrow asked.

Merle was not tired. However, there was no force on the Earth that would part them from Magpie now that they had been reunited so unexpectedly.

“Yes,” Merle said.

As such, Merle found themself scooped up and tucked in next to Magpie.

Sparrow fussed for a few moments more, smoothing blankets and hair until Magpie gently said, “You can go back out and chat with Noire, Sparrow. I won’t be upset.”

Sparrow’s eyes sought Magpie’s, their face tense. Merle wondered if they were missing context.

“Are you sure?” Sparrow asked.

“Yes. You’ve wanted to meet them for a long time, right? Go. I’ll send Merle for you if I need anything.”

After another moment of hovering, Sparrow nodded. They bent to kiss first Magpie’s forehead, then Merle’s, before slipping out of the room.

Merle lay in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of conversation and Magpie’s quiet breathing. As expected, Magpie fell asleep immediately after Sparrow left. Magpie healed rapidly, but it took a lot of physical energy and they needed to sleep a lot as a result.

Merle slipped their hand into Magpie’s and laced their fingers together. They still weren’t sleepy, so they occupied themself by counting Magpie’s breaths until they awoke.

Merle had grown used to the stillness, and so started when Magpie sat up.

“Magpie?” Merle asked when Magpie continued to sit without speaking or moving.

“Where’s Élodie?” Magpie asked in French.

“Who?” Merle sat up and peered closely at Magpie’s face. “I’m Merle. Remember?”

“I’m supposed to be watching Élodie and Mathieu.” Magpie sounded confused. Magpie looked around the room as though they expected more people to appear.

It took Merle a second to process. Oh. They recognized those names, and now they understood what was going on.

“Magpie, you’re dreaming,” Merle said. “Please lay down and go back to sleep.” It had been so long since they had heard Magpie sleep talk that they hadn’t recognized the signs at first.

Merle waited while Magpie seemed to puzzle over their words. “Understood,” they finally said, and lay back down.

After leaning over to check that Magpie had actually settled back into a proper sleep, Merle let out a relieved breath. While they did not know who Élodie and Mathieu were, Magpie sometimes mentioned them when they sleepwalked. And only when they sleepwalked. Merle didn’t like it because Magpie always seemed distressed when they dreamt of those two.

Merle pulled the blankets up and tucked Magpie back in, keeping their touches light and careful to keep from waking them. Once they were satisfied, Merle lay back down on their side so that they could keep an eye on Magpie until Magpie woke up for real.

It was subtle, but Merle felt Magpie tense next to them and knew that Magpie had woken up. Merle held still, giving Magpie a moment to remember where they were and who they were with. Then Magpie’s hand skimmed Merle’s shoulder, investigated their hair, and Magpie relaxed.

“How long was I asleep?” Magpie asked, rubbing their face. Their voice was slightly hoarse from sleep.

“About three hours,” Merle replied. When Magpie sat up, they did too, and twisted around to turn on their bedside lamp. They turned back around in time to see Magpie wince.

“Longer than I planned,” Magpie said, running their fingers through Merle’s bangs. “I’m sorry. You must have been bored.”

Merle shook their head adamantly, their tangled hair whipping their cheeks. “Not at all. I was happy to spend time with you.” Merle never wanted to go back to the horrible, soul-crushing grief that had consumed them when they thought that Magpie was gone forever.

Magpie smiled, and Merle’s chest went warm and fuzzy. Magpie leaned over to kiss their head, then climbed over Merle to get out of bed. They stretched, careful with their healing wounds. “I’m going to go to the bathroom, then I should go check on Sparrow.”

Merle didn’t need to go, but they followed Magpie to the bathroom anyway. Magpie stopped Merle from following them in with a hand on Merle’s forehead. “Please wait for me outside,” Magpie chided, the firm tone and gentle push out of the bathroom brooked no argument.

Merle pouted and crouched in the hallway, sulking, until Magpie emerged. They found Sparrow in the living room with Noire. Noire’s legs were thrown over Sparrow’s lap while they watched an animated movie about an Eevee in a hot air balloon.

Petit was in Sparrow’s arms, chirruping to them as Sparrow rubbed their cheek against her head. Sparrow laughed. “She’s so soft!” they told Magpie, delighted. Noire grinned with pride, but Merle froze in the doorway, squinting at Petit. She seemed not to be inclined to come near them. She was enamoured with her new friend and paid Merle no mind as they decided it was safe to slink into the room after Magpie. Petit pressed a paw to Sparrow’s cheek and chirped. Sparrow responded by petting her with their cheek again.

“I like her,” Sparrow announced.

“She belongs to Noire,” Magpie said, alarmed.

Noire looked puzzled, but Sparrow just smiled. “I’m not going to steal her. Just enjoy her company,” Sparrow said. They held the extra large Eevee out in Magpie’s direction, making Merle squeak and squeeze behind Magpie on the armchair they had settled in. “Do you want to pet her? I’ll hold her for you.”

“No, thank you,” Magpie replied, holding their hands up as though to prevent having the Eevee foisted on them.

With a shrug, Sparrow settled the Eevee back into their arms. Noire leaned around Sparrow to ask Magpie if they slept okay. Their success with Sparrow had buoyed their mood and restored their confidence, so they were ready again to connect with Magpie.

“Yes, thank you,” Magpie replied. Magpie immediately began to fiddle with Merle’s hair, vainly attempting to straighten it. Merle allowed this, but they were beginning to suspect that Magpie was doing it to avoid Noire’s gaze. This struck them as deeply incorrect, but it wasn’t their place to criticize Magpie.

That they felt the need to puzzled Merle. Magpie was perfect and above reproof. Clearly Merle was seeing things incorrectly.

Still, it bothered them. Merle decided they would ask Magpie about it later, in order to see where the fault in their logic was.

But when later came, Merle found it difficult to voice the question.

Noire had gone back to their own apartment for the night and Sparrow had fallen asleep sprawled out on Merle’s floor while listening to Magpie read aloud from one of Merle’s French mystery novels. Merle curled on the bean bag chair beside Magpie, watching them turn the pages of the book. Merle wasn’t listening to the story so much as letting Magpie’s voice wash over them. They savoured each syllable, the familiarity of Magpie reading to them; the quiet intake of breath before Magpie turned a page, the subtle shift in tone as they read a line of dialogue.

Merle has missed Magpie so much.

When Magpie finally closed the book and set it aside, Merle knew that they should ask now if they were going to ask.

“Magpie?” they piped up, their voice squeaky from nerves. Magpie’s head inclined toward Merle, indicating that Merle had their attention. “Do you dislike Noire?” With the question out, Merle’s heart hammered. Magpie had never gotten angry with Merle for asking a question, but Merle wasn’t usually this audacious.

Magpie’s hands jumped with surprise. Their body tensed.

‘Oh no,’ Merle thought, ‘Magpie’s mad.’

Then Magpie’s hands smoothed gently down Merle’s arms. “It’s not a personal dislike,” Magpie murmured after some thought. “I was trying to be better about it.”

Merle risked a peek at Magpie’s face. They didn’t look mad. Just... sad? Merle wasn’t always good at reading facial expressions. Still, it wasn’t anger, so Merle thought it might be okay to ask another question. “Is it because Noire is the Blanche?” That was what would make sense to Merle.

“No, that’s not it. It’s... I had a run in with Team Rocket. When I was younger. I suppose I’m still holding a grudge.”

“So you don’t like Madame Sabrina either?” Merle asked. Maybe the reason Madame Sabrina was avoiding Magpie was because she sensed that. Merle would ask her.

“No. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be nicer. I know you love them, and I want to be on good terms with the people you love.”

Merle twisted around on the beanbag chair in order to hug Magpie. “I also love you. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Magpie smiled. “Time for bed. Go brush your teeth.”

Merle pouted. “I’m not sleepy.”

“I am. Scamper.”

“But you already slept forever!”

“Merle.”

“Fiiiiiiiine.”

Chapter Text

“Are you comfortable?” Professor Willow asked. “Do you need another pillow?”

Magpie stopped wiggling on the couch long enough to smile at him. “I’m fine, Sir,” Magpie assured him. “Just a bit sore, really.”

Blanche felt guilty for insisting that Magpie and Sparrow be brought all the way to Professor Willow’s house for this meeting. The doctor had given Magpie a clean bill of health and allowed them to be discharged, and there had been such a commotion made about Magpie’s incredible healing abilities that Blanche had not realized they would still be in pain and discomfort days later. Magpie had not complained, but they had spent the last five minutes trying to find a comfortable position.

Sabrina should have told them that Magpie still needed time to recover.

Sparrow was staring hard at Magpie, their expression impossible for Blanche to read. Magpie didn’t seem to have that problem, though; they glanced at Sparrow and said, “I really am fine, Sparrow. I’m sore and my wounds itch, but it’s much better than it was. Promise.”

“...Okay,” Sparrow said. Sparrow stepped away from Magpie, who they had been hovering over, and looked around the Professor’s living room for a place to sit. It was quite full - Blanche, the Professor, Magpie, Sparrow, Noire, Merle, and Grisaille were all crammed into the small seating area. It would have been worse if Spark and Candela had come. They had wanted to, since they were apparently “dying of curiosity” (according to Candela), but Blanche had refused. Professor Willow had backed them up. This was not the time to throw a bunch of new people at Magpie and Sparrow, who Blanche still regarded as dangerous.

After weighing their options, Sparrow decided to sit on the floor between Magpie and Blanche. Merle and Noire shared the couch with Magpie, and Blanche and Professor Willow had claimed the two armchairs.

Or, Merle had been on the couch tucked between Magpie and Noire. Blanche blinked. Merle wasn’t there now. Blanche looked around and spotted them trying to coax Grisaille out of the hallway.

While Merle talked, Grisaille shook their head. Grisaille was frowning at the strangers, displeased by their presence. Merle tugged on one of Grisaille’s hands to encourage them to come in, but Grisaille dug in their heels and refused to budge.

Merle gave up and returned to Magpie’s side with a pout. Magpie gave them a one-armed hug, resting their cheek on Merle’s head with such comfortable affection that Blanche felt jealous. They could never be so at ease with the child.

“I take it that your friend doesn’t want to come say hi?” Magpie asked. Merle shook their head and sent Grisaille a hurt look before looking pointedly in the opposite direction. “That’s okay,” Magpie said, giving Merle a squeeze. “We’ll give them some time. Maybe they’ll want to say hi later.”

Merle didn’t look convinced, but nodded.

Professor Willow leaned forward, calling attention back to him. He smiled encouragingly at Merle. “I’m sure Magpie’s right. We’ll just let Grisaille be for now. I haven’t seen you for a while. Have you been well?”

“Yes,” Merle said, squishing closer to Magpie’s side. That made Blanche frown - why the sudden shyness with Professor Willow? - but before they could ponder it further, Magpie spoke up.

“Excuse me, Sir. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to ask, but how are the children?” Magpie asked. At Professor Willow’s blank look, they clarified. “Sparrow told me that you were at that Cipher facility in order to save the children. I was just wondering if they are all right.”

With Magpie’s explanation, Professor Willow’s face cleared. “Ah, yes. They’re doing about as well as can be expected. Some have been processed, assessed, and treated and have therefore been placed with fosters. Others are still in the earlier stages of the process,” Professor Willow explained. “I can’t tell you where they are or their new names, but I can assure you that we’re doing the best we can for them.”

Magpie nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”

“I don’t supposed you’re ready to tell us a bit about yourself?” Professor Willow asked, glancing between Magpie and Sparrow.

Sparrow gave no sign of hearing him. Blanche’s Vaporeon, Sushi, had wandered in from the other room, and Sparrow was occupied with trying to befriend him. Sparrow held out their hands to Sushi, indicating a willingness to be approached. Sushi stared at them with a curious expression. Blanche imagined Sushi wondering who this human was who looked so much like their trainer. To entice Sushi, Sparrow pulled a strip of (cooked) bacon out of their pocket.

Sushi didn’t need more encouragement. He scampered over, brushing against Magpie’s leg on his way to devour the bacon. After scarfing it down, he hauled his bulk into Sparrow’s lap and sprawled with his paws in the air to demand belly rubs. Gratified, Sparrow complied.

Magpie drew their legs up to their chest, keeping an eye on Sparrow as they continued their conversation with Professor Willow.

“I mean no disrespect, Sir, especially since you have been taking care of Merle for me all this time. But I really don’t know you, and I don’t believe you’re entitled to my personal information or my life’s story. I’m sorry if this upsets you.” Magpie didn’t sound sorry, but Blanche found themself agreeing with Magpie’s argument even as they bristled at the statement that they had been looking after Merle “for Magpie.” Magpie didn’t know any of them. It was reasonable for Magpie to want to trust them before giving any information.

Professor Willow, however, looked unwilling to let it go. “I understand why you feel that way,” he said in his best reasonable professor voice, “but I think it’s important that you tell us anything you can. Not just because of your connection to Blanche and Noire, but because we are opponents of Cipher. Sabrina and I have been working against Cipher ever since the mission to rescue the twi- to rescue Blanche and Noire all those years ago. The more we know about Cipher and its operations, the better equipped we’ll be to destroy it. That’s why we need to know your story, so that we can see the part Cipher has played in it and know them better.”

Magpie listened politely, but they weren’t yielding. “I understand your reasoning,” Magpie said. “But I do not see how it is my responsibility.”

The professor looked thrown. “But don’t you want to destroy Cipher? It’s caused you and your loved ones harm, after all. And you were fighting them when we found you, so I thought-”

“Please don’t misunderstand. It’s correct that I hate Cipher and want it destroyed. However, I don’t feel any pressing need to be a part of its demise. I am not the hero type, nor am I on a revenge quest.” Magpie’s voice was firm. “I just want to live my life quietly, as far away from Cipher as I can get.”

“Ditto,” Sparrow agreed, and smiled at their own joke.

“Of course we fought our way out of Cipher that day. What choice did we have, after you set off all the alarms?” continued Magpie. They had offered a small smile for Sparrow, but now they were serious again. “We had intended to verify if Merle was there, and if not, slip out as quietly as we’d entered.”

“Except without setting off the motion sensors outside,” Sparrow interjected. “That was my mistake, and I had planned to avoid repeating it.”

Magpie waved this off. “It didn’t give us away. It was fine. But you see, Sir, I am not the type of person you were hoping I would be. And I am going for a walk.” Magpie stood abruptly and side-stepped Sushi as he attempted to brace his paws on their legs in greeting (and to see if they had bacon, now that he had eaten all of Sparrow’s).

Willow and Blanche were left blinking in surprise as Magpie headed for the front door. Sparrow and Merle got up to follow, and Noire scrambled after them.

“Wait! I’m supposed to go with you!” Noire yelled as they chased the group into the entryway.

“Then come on,” Magpie said. Seconds later, the front door slammed shut.

Professor Willow looked stunned. “I didn’t think I’d offended them that badly,” he said.

“I should go after them. Magpie still isn’t well,” Blanche said.

“Good idea. And, apologize for me, would you? I didn’t mean to upset Magpie with all the Cipher talk.”

“Of course, Professor. See you later.”

Blanche returned Sushi to his pokeball, slipped their feet into their shoes and hurried out the door, hoping that they hadn’t been left too far behind.

Fortunately for Blanche, Magpie’s continued recovery meant that the group was moving at a sedate pace. Blanche attached Sushi’s pokeball to the holders on their belt and jogged to catch up. Behind them, Professor Willow’s door opened and closed. Blanche glanced back and received a surprise as Grisaille ran to join them.

“Does the Professor know you’re with us?” Blanche ask as Grisaille fell in step with them.

Grisaille nodded. Their mouth was set in a sullen line and they glared at Magpie’s and Sparrow’s backs as the group walked around Professor Willow’s neighbourhood.

Blanche waited until Magpie stopped and sat in a minuscule green area with a single slide and set of swings. It was too stingy to be called a park, but Blanche supposed it served as a place for parents to take their young kids for fresh air, and as a space for pokemon to exercise.

The siblings ended up sitting in a circle with Sparrow and Merle on either side of Magpie. Grisaille squeezed in between Noire and Blanche and looked displeased to find themself opposite Magpie, who smiled at them. Grisaille scowled in response, then dropped their head to glare at the grass.

“I don’t think they want to be friends,” Sparrow observed.

“Guess not,” Magpie shrugged. They were still smiling, unbothered by Grisaille’s rejection.

Blanche cleared their throat to get Magpie’s attention. “The professor asked me to apologize on his behalf for upsetting you,” Blanche said. They didn’t respond to Noire’s snort, but had to fight the childish urge to swat their sibling.

Magpie’s lips pursed and their head tilted to the side, like an inquisitive bird. “It wasn’t that. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been outside. I just needed some fresh air,” Magpie said. They sounded amused.

The explanation rang false to Blanche, but they couldn’t have explained why. It was just that Magpie had left so abruptly, and lent the impression that something was wrong. Magpie seemed relaxed now, so Blanche decided not to push it and risk straining their fledgling relationship with Magpie. And with Sparrow, too, since Sparrow was protective of Magpie.

Not that they were sure how they felt about their new siblings. Conflicted, certainly. A desire for closeness and a disbelief that these people could have existed all this time without them knowing about it. Blanche felt like they should have sensed it somehow, that something was missing. And they had an obscure sense of guilt over the fact that they hadn’t known. That Magpie had spent the first years of their life in a cell just down the hall from them, and Blanche had never realized.

They wondered if Noire felt as bad about it as they did.

Blanche was never going to ask.

Noire didn’t confide in them. They never had.

Merle flopped back on the grass, staring up at the sky. Their eyes dropped half closed in contentment. Grisaille glanced up and stared at Merle like they wanted to join them, but their eyes darted to Magpie and narrowed. No, they weren’t willing to get any closer to Magpie and Sparrow than they had to.

Magpie, however, seemed to decide that looked comfy and eased back until they were lying on the grass, too. They winced a little, but before Blanche could ask if they were all right, their face smoothed out again.

Silence settled over the group for several minutes. Blanche didn’t know what to say, Noire was playing a game on their phone, and none of the others seemed inclined to talk.

After a moment, Merle sat up, patted Magpie’s stomach, then wandered in the direction of the swings. Grisaille was on their feet in an instant and trotting after them. Sparrow, who had shifted in order to follow Merle, settled back on the ground when Grisaille went. Blanche understood that they were being considerate of Grisaille’s discomfort, but they felt that someone should follow to keep an eye on the kids. When Noire showed no sign of getting up, Blanche did with a sigh. They didn’t suppose the professor would accept laziness as an excuse if a fight broke out and Blanche hadn’t been close enough to stop it.

##

Blanche left them in pursuit of the young ones, and Magpie watched them go. In a way, they wished that Blanche had stayed. Magpie liked them already. Yes, Blanche seemed stubborn and selfish and cool, but they also seemed kind and conscientious and a little bit awkward in a way that Magpie found endearing.

But, well, it was probably for the best that they were out of earshot for the conversation Magpie needed to have. They had promised Merle. Sparrow said that they always sensed tension between Noire and Blanche, which had honestly gone over Magpie’s head, but Magpie admittedly hadn’t been at their best these last few days. They believed Sparrow that the tension was there, because Sparrow had a good sense for these things, so it was better to talk in relative privacy.

Magpie sitting up was enough to get Noire’s attention. Sparrow’s hands were on their shoulders immediately, helping to steady them. Magpie didn’t need help, but it made Sparrow feel better to do these things.

It did not escape Magpie’s notice that Noire’s hands twitched like they wanted to help Magpie as well, but didn’t touch them. Magpie appreciated that - both Noire’s desire to help and their respect for Magpie’s boundaries.

Merle was right. Magpie did need to do better.

Magpie pulled their legs up so that they were sitting cross-legged. “Noire, I must apologize,” Magpie said. Their seriousness gave Noire a visible jolt. Magpie tried to relax, to appear more at ease in order to make Noire feel more at ease. But this wasn’t easy for them. Some scars ran deep. “I know I have been unfair to you. I’m sorry. It wasn’t personal in the sligthest, and I would like to start over, if that’s all right with you..”

Rather than looking reassured, Noire’s eyes dropped and they plucked at the grass. Magpie was alarmed - had they been even colder than they thought, and therefore made reconciliation impossible?

“It’s cool,” Noire said. “You don’t need to force yourself.”

“I’m not. I was judging you based on my own prejudices, and that’s not fair to you.”

“Magpie would rather dislike people on their own merit,” Sparrow piped up. They were flopped on their stomach in the grass with their head near Magpie’s legs, which put them in the perfect position for Magpie to hit them lightly with the back of their hand. “What?” Sparrow didn’t even flinch. Maybe Magpie could have hit them a bit harder. “It’s true.”

“Well, I guess,” Noire said, looking between them. “I’d like to be friends, even if I’m not sure about the being family thing.”

Magpie smiled, but Noire’s next question startled it off their face.

“You’re a Claire?” Noire asked, looking at Magpie.

“You could tell?” Magpie said. That worried them. Did Blanches have the ability to sense the power level of the other designations? Magpie had never heard anything about that, but Noire was the only Blanche in existence... Or had Noire somehow gotten their Cipher data? They thought all their experimental data had been wiped from Cipher’s system.

“I guessed.”

“Oh.” Well, that was a relief.

“So you are?”

“Yeah. So’s Sparrow.” Magpie stroked Sparrow’s hair with affection. The short side was starting to get a little shaggy - Magpie would have to ask Sabrina for something to buzz it with. “I don’t really mind people knowing, honestly. It just bothered me that that man thought he had the right to demand it from me.”

“I don’t care either,” Sparrow said.

Noire shrugged. “Not like I’m gonna spread it around. I don’t like the old fart, anyway.”

Before Magpie could ask why (any information was useful), Merle ran up and flopped on the grass and nuzzled into Magpie’s side. They had somehow grazed their cheek, and Magpie got distracted with fussing and forgot their question entirely.

Chapter Text

So it was just like Noire thought - Magpie was a Claire, and they disliked Noire because they were the Blanche. Well, that was okay. Noire understood. And Magpie said that they were going to work at getting over it. That was good enough for Noire. No one had to know how much they hated being recognized by their Cipher abilities.

While Magpie fussed over Merle’s scraped cheek, Noire noticed Grisaille approaching. Noire patted the ground next to them, inviting Grisaille to sit. Grisaille’s eyes were fixed on Merle and Magpie. They were frowning. They did not notice Noire’s invitation until Noire touched their arm to get their attention.

Grisaille snapped to attention, stepping away from Noire and into a ready stance. Noire retracted their hand before Grisaille could strike it. Oops. They shouldn’t have caught Grisaille off guard.

“Sorry, Gris. I just wanted to know if you’d like to sit with me,” Noire said.

Grisaille’s body relaxed. Looking a bit embarrassed by their overreaction, Grisaille dropped to the grass next to Noire. Too late, they realized that they were sitting next to Magpie, and their body went rigid again.

Magpie stopped their fussing over Merle, satisfied that it was only a small scrape. “Hi, Grisaille,” Magpie said, twisting around to smile at Grisaille.

Grisaille’s shoulders hunched. The expression on their face screamed ‘don’t talk to me’, but Magpie was not easy to intimidate.

“I’m not sure we were ever properly introduced. I’m Magpie. You’re called Grisaille?”

“I’m Sparrow,” Sparrow chipped in, turning their head to look at Grisaille with half-lidded eyes. “It’s so nice to sit in a little park like this, isn’t it?”

Grisaille couldn’t seem to decide who to glare at first. Their glare transferred from Magpie to Sparrow, then dropped to the ground. They did not respond to the friendly overtures of their newest siblings. The silence stretched out. Merle began to look antsy, though neither Magpie nor Sparrow seemed to mind.

“Looks like rain,” Magpie remarked, breaking the silence. They were looking up at the sky.

Noire looked up too. Dark clouds were beginning to form overhead and the air grew heavy with moisture. That was a disappointment. Noire liked sitting out here way better than being crammed in Professor Willow’s stuffy living room. But they weren’t eager to be rained on, so they poked Grisaille as they got to their feet. “C’mon. We’d better head back. Blanche, we’re leaving!” Noire called to Blanche, who appeared to have gotten distracted by a Wurmple on their way back to the group. At least, they were taking photos of it with their phone. For Arceus’ sake, didn’t they ever stop working?

Magpie let Sparrow help them to their feet, even though Noire knew that Magpie didn’t need help. Magpie wasn’t as fragile as Sparrow seemed to think. Or maybe Sparrow just liked to be helpful.

Blanche returned to the group, and Grisaille grabbed Merle’s hand before anyone else could, then frowned like they dared someone to challenge them for it.

No one did, though Merle pouted a little as Magpie chose to walk with Noire instead. Noire thought that Magpie was trying to make good on their promise to try harder, starting right now. Sparrow and Blanche brought up the rear. Blanche prattled excitedly about how the Wurmple they’d seen appeared to be a rare colour variation, and how it may have crossbred with varieties from Sinnoh to make that unique shade of pink. Sparrow appeared to listen attentively, though they couldn’t possibly be interested. Sparrow had already proven themself disinterested in any kind of research during an earlier conversation, but they didn’t seem to mind letting Blanche talk.

“So, are you really coming back to Professor Willow’s house with us, or will you be taking off?” Magpie asked in a low voice, distracting Noire from their eavesdropping. Noire glanced over, a retort ready at the tip of their tongue, and stopped. Magpie was smiling at them like they had meant the question. It wasn’t a dig.

“Ah... I’m coming. I’m supposed to stick with you guys,” Noire replied.

Magpie’s eyebrows shot up. “Does Sabrina not trust Professor Willow to keep an eye on us?” Magpie asked. Their tone was so mild that it was hard to tell if they meant ‘to keep us safe’ or ‘to make sure we behave’.

Noire shrugged, hands in their pockets. They weren’t going to assure Magpie that the Professor was capable - that was Blanche’s job, since they pretty much fucking worshiped the guy. Nor were they about to admit to Magpie that Noire was under orders to accompany Magpie anywhere outside Sabrina’s penthouse, no matter where they went or who they were with.

From the considering look in Magpie’s eyes, maybe they’d already clued in that they were under watch.

Merle and Grisaille skipped ahead to open the Professor’s door. Grisaille tried to tug Merle inside, but Merle resisted and held the door open while Magpie and Noire caught up.

Grisaille moved aside to let Magpie pass, but refused to let go of Merle’s hand, even when Merle attempted to tug it free.

Merle frowned at Grisaille. “I want to sit with Magpie,” they complained. “Let go!”

“You’ve been sitting with them all day,” Grisaille replied. There was a plea in their voice. “Sit with me now.”

“I don’t want to!”

Noire cringed. Their sympathy deepened when they saw the hurt on Grisaille’s face. Grisaille dropped Merle’s hand and darted inside, vanishing in the direction of the kitchen.

Freed and either oblivious or uncaring of the hurt they had caused Grisaille, Merle took Magpie’s hand as they stepped inside the house. Magpie looked down at them with a dismayed expression.

“Oh, mon coeur, you should be kinder to your friend,” Magpie sighed. “Grisaille is sad because you have been neglecting them.”

Merle’s face set in a stubborn line. “I held their hand on the walk home,” they protested. “And I want to spend time with you! What if you disappear again?”

It was Magpie’s turn to look pained. “I won’t disappear, Merle.”

“You don’t know that,” Merle said. “You didn’t plan to disappear the first time. Unexpected events happen to people often.” Merle grabbed Magpie’s other hand and held onto it, looking desperate. “If something happens to you, I want to be there!”

Noire shifted uncomfortably. They wanted to interrupt, but didn’t know what to say to Merle’s declaration that they wanted to die with Magpie.

Magpie didn’t seem to know what to say either. They had stopped in the middle of the hallway and stared down at Merle, who glared back at them. Merle was squeezing Magpie’s hands too hard, as though to prove they were sincere.

“But Merle,” Magpie said, voice so quiet that Noire, only a couple steps behind, had to strain to hear it, “mon coeur, I so badly want you to live.”

While Merle was confused, Magpie pulled their hands away and walked into the kitchen. Noire and Merle were left alone in the hallway (where the hell were Blanche and Sparrow?). Noire felt awkward, like they had heard a conversation they weren’t supposed to, but they put a hand on Merle’s shoulder to let the child know they were still there.

Merle let out a sad little sigh and leaned into the touch. “I don’t understand,” Merle told Noire. “I just want to be together always. Is that bad?”

A lump formed in Noire’s throat. They swallowed it down, thinking of their actions when they separated from Blanche. “No,” they said. “It’s not bad to want to be together. But when you’re dependent, when you hurt other people who care about you because only that one person matters to you... well, that’s not good.” Noire wasn’t the best person to ask about ‘good’ and ‘bad’. They knew that they had gone about it the wrong way when they had tried to correct the codependency problem with Blanche. It had been too cold, too extreme.

But hell, they still didn’t know what else they could have done so that Blanche could live a proper life without clinging to Noire’s shirt.

Noire still missed that sometimes.

Merle appeared to be thinking about what Noire said. Before they could respond, though, Professor Willow yelled from the kitchen.

“Grisaille, no! Put the knife down!”

Noire’s eyes went wide. Their horror was mirrored on Merle’s face for the split second their eyes met before they both raced to the kitchen. Noire’s longer strides meant that they arrived first. The scene wasn’t as chaotic as Noire feared. Yes, Grisaille was brandishing a kitchen knife, but at Magpie rather than at Professor Willow (Arceus, wouldn't that have complicated things).

For their part, Magpie didn’t look alarmed. They eyed the knife, their head tilted, then drew their hands out of their pockets and showed them to Grisaille to prove their hands were empty. Grisaille took a swing anyway. Professor Willow yelped, but at least had enough sense to stay pressed against the counter and out of the way.

Magpie side-stepped the swing. The serrated blade just nicked their coat. Magpie’s gaze stayed calm and steady on Grisaille. They were even smiling reassuringly, though it didn’t appear to work on Grisaille, who swung the knife again.

There wasn’t much room to maneuver in the kitchen, and Grisaille was fast. Noire was close enough that they could have grabbed the back of Grisaille’s shirt if Noire wasn’t using their body to barricade Merle out of the kitchen. There was no doubt in their mind that Merle would fling themself at Grisaille in defence of Magpie if given the opportunity, and Noire wasn’t going to let them. When Merle attempted to squeeze around Noire’s side, Noire squished them hard into the door frame, rendering them immobile.

Merle protested loudly, tears streaming down their cheeks as Magpie evaded Grisaille’s second and third attacks.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so close to you. I wasn’t paying attention.” Magpie spoke softly to Grisaille, trying to calm them. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I’m still not going to hurt you. I would never do that.” Either Grisaille wasn’t listening or they didn’t believe Magpie. Magpie sighed and grabbed Grisaille’s knife arm when Grisaille lunged at them.

“Drop it,” Magpie ordered, stern now.

Grisaille’s eyes went wide and they shook their head, their bobbed hair whipping their cheeks. Grisaille tried to yank their arm free, and given another few seconds, might have tried to punch, kick, or gouge their way to freedom. Magpie didn’t give them the chance.

Magpie twisted Grisaille’s arm and hit a pressure point. The knife clattered to the floor out of Grisaille’s numb fingers. Magpie kicked the knife away as Grisaille dove for it with their other hand.

Willow, the naive fuck, seemed to think it was safe to approach now that Grisaille had been disarmed. Magpie blocked him by stepping between him and Grisaille. This distracted them enough for Grisaille to growl and kick them in the stomach. Noire winced in sympathy as Magpie’s face went white. They made a pained noise, but held firm. Noire knew that Magpie was still in more pain from their injuries than they let on.

Pain or no pain, Magpie did not release Grisaille. Noire thought they had better step in, if Merle would just behave.

In a moment of frustration, Noire grabbed Merle and sent them sliding down the floor to the front door. Merle hit the door with a thud and a yelp that was more surprised than pained. Noire already felt guilty, but sending Merle in the opposite direction gave them the few seconds they needed to dart forward and grab Grisaille before they could kick at Magpie again.

Grisaille fought them until Noire bellowed in their ear, “Grisaille, it’s Noire! Stand the fuck down!”

Grisaille stopped struggling, and then Blanche’s cool, strong hands were taking them from Noire. Blanche’s face was tight with concern. Noire snarled at them.

“About fucking time! Where the fuck were you?”

Blanche sent them a look that was equal parts ‘you’re an idiot’ and ‘don’t swear in front of the children, idiot’, What actually came out of their mouth was, “I think you and the others should leave. I’ll help Professor Willow handle Grisaille.”

Noire wanted to argue. Like Professor Willow was going to be able to do dick-all to get Grisaille settled down. He sure as hell wasn’t stronger than the kid. And they didn’t want to leave. But duh, of course they had to be the one to drive Magpie, Merle, and Sparrow back to Sabrina’s. Orders were orders, and Noire couldn’t exactly send Blanche in their place.

“Fine. See ya, kiddo,” Noire said, releasing their hold on Grisaille and trusting that Blanche’s grip was secure.

While Blanche hauled Grisaille down the hall to their bedroom, Noire made a ‘follow me’ gesture at Magpie and turned for the front door.

Magpie did, unhappiness etched all over their face as they joined Merle and Sparrow in the entryway. Sparrow had both arms wrapped around Merle to prevent Merle from becoming a problem.

“Time to go?” Sparrow asked. Magpie nodded, so Sparrow scooped Merle up into the crook of their arm and stepped outside.

Merle looked over Sparrow’s shoulder at Magpie. “Are you okay?” Merle asked in a small voice.

Magpie tried for a smile. “Yeah. I’m not hurt.”

“Is Grisaille okay?” Merle asked next. Noire thought Merle shouldn’t have taken Magpie’s words at face value - Magpie was limping. But maybe Merle was too shaken up to notice.

Magpie looked uncertain, so Noire cut in. “They’re upset. Blanche has them.”

After a moment, Merle nodded. “Blanche will take care of them,” Merle decided.

“Yeah.”

The siblings piled into Noire’s car. “It was my fault,” Magpie said after a long silence. They dropped their head onto they hands. “I wasn’t paying attention and got too close to them. Even though I know they don’t feel safe around me.” Magpie raised their head and sighed. “I hope they aren’t in too much trouble with the Professor.”

Magpie had taken the shotgun seat next to Noire, so Sparrow had to reach forward to pat their arm. “You can’t blame yourself for these things, Maggie.”

Magpie shook their head. “Grisaille is a child. I am not. It’s my job to be mindful and responsible.”

Sparrow didn’t say anything to that. Noire decided to change the subject. “So, where were you and Blanche when shit was going down?” they asked Sparrow.

“We had a lovely conversation about regional Pokemon variations in the front yard,” Sparrow said.

Magpie snorted in surprise, then began to laugh. “Did you really?” Magpie asked.

Sparrow looked confused. “Yes, why?”

“Do you even know anything about regional distribution?”

“I do now.”

Magpie laughed harder, and the others relaxed. Just because something bad happened didn’t mean it was the end of the world. Not if Magpie could laugh. Noire wondered about that.

What was it about Magpie that caused the other two to put such faith in them?

Chapter Text

Noire paused in the act of raising their hand to knock on Merle’s door. There were voices coming from the other side, which meant that Merle, Magpie, and Sparrow were awake. Noire had arrived early in the morning because Sabrina had to leave early for a meeting that she said couldn’t be postponed. Noire hadn’t expected their siblings to be awake yet, and they couldn’t fight the urge to eavesdrop.

“Did she hear you?” Noire couldn’t tell who was speaking.

“Yeah. She said she's almost here. She's bringing it.” That was definitely Sparrow. But who was ‘she’?

The door opened, and Magpie stopped short when they saw Noire. Their hair was unbound and still mussed from sleep. For a split second they looked alarmed, then they smiled at Noire.

“Oh, good morning, Noire,” Magpie said. They brushed their hair back over their shoulders. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Over Magpie’s shoulder, Noire could see Merle and Sparrow sitting around Sparrow’s Meowstic. Noire was even more confused. There were no communication devices in sight and it was impossible to sneak one past Sabrina anyway. Had Noire misheard the conversation?

“Uh, yeah,” Noire said, suddenly aware that everyone was staring at them. “Sabrina had a meeting.”

“And you have to keep an eye on us,” Magpie said, understanding. They attempted to skirt around Noire, but Noire blocked them. Magpie looked surprised, then entertained. “I’m just going to the bathroom, Noire.”

Noire stepped out of the way with reluctance, and watched to make sure that Magpie actually went into the bathroom. When they did, Noire stepped into the bedroom to sit with their siblings.

It was like a freaking prayer circle.

“So, what’s up?” Noire asked.

Sparrow’s face went blank. Noire expected it to be temporary, since this is what seemed to happen when Sparrow didn’t know the answer to a question, but Sparrow remained blank long enough for Noire to be concerned.

“Hey, you okay?” Noire asked, touching Sparrow on the shoulder to try and snap them out of it.

Merle looked up, then frowned when they saw the look on Sparrow’s face. Merle crawled closer and reached up to pat Sparrow’s cheeks. “Sparrow, are you okay? Should I go get Magpie?” Merle asked, concerned.

Sparrow did not respond. As Merle was getting to their feet, Magpie returned.

Magpie stepped into the room, paused, noted Merle and Noire clustered worriedly around Sparrow, and sighed.

“Sparrow stalled out?” Magpie asked, coming closer. Merle moved out of the way as Magpie knelt in front of Sparrow.

“Is that what you call it?” Noire asked in turn.

Magpie cupped Sparrow’s face, tapping along their jaw and cheekbones. “Sparrow,” Magpie crooned. “Where did you go? Come back to me, please.”

The tapping wasn’t getting a response, but Magpie kept at it while talking quietly to Sparrow. Merle leaned in to Noire to whisper, “This happens a lot. You don’t need to worry. Sparrow will come back.”

It wasn’t until Merle’s little hand patted their arm that Noire realized how tense they were. Noire made a conscious effort to relax. Once they felt steadier, they whispered back to Merle. “What happened? Why’d Sparrow zone out like that?”

Magpie was still working at pulling Sparrow out of their episode and paid no attention to their other siblings. Merle shrugged and pulled the Meowstic (Noire thought that Sparrow had called her Mignon) onto their lap. Merle stroked her fluffy ears, using the contact to soothe their own worry. It was still weird to Noire to see Merle take comfort from a Pokemon, but they thought it was a good thing. There was hope that Merle would someday adjust to the world they lived in.

“It’s a coping mechanism,” Merle explained. They continued to rub Mignon’s ears between their fingers while the Meowstic purred. “Sometimes it’s easier to cope with hard things if you go away for a while.”

It was a Cipher thing. That made sense. Noire didn’t know what had set it off, but they supposed that Sparrow had been under enough stress the last few days that it made sense that they would need a break.

“Noire,” Magpie said. Noire turned toward them. Magpie looked apologetic. “Would you please bring me one of Merle’s books? Sometimes reading to Sparrow helps calm them.”

“Oh, sure,” Noire replied. They went to Merle’s bookcase and perused the shelves for something suitable. Merle mostly read mystery novels and science journals, which Noire wasn’t sure would be the best option. A bright cover at the end of the shelf caught Noire’s eye, and they pulled it out. It was one of those tourism guidebooks that seemed to be in stock at every hotel. This one was for beaches around Opal. Noire recognized it. Sabrina’s condo building had them in racks down in the lobby. Merle must have grabbed one.

Noire passed it to Magpie, who raised their eyebrows but took it. Merle tucked blankets around Magpie and Sparrow to make them cozy, and glanced under their lashes to see what book Magpie was going to read. Merle smiled when they saw what Noire had picked.

“I like that one,” Merle said. “I like the pictures.”

As Noire sat back down and Magpie flipped open the cover, Noire had to agree. There were some stunning beaches in the Opal region, and the photographers for the tourism guide had done them justice. Bright sun, white sand, and turquoise water. It looked like a freaking painting.

Magpie began to read the location descriptions in a voice so soothing that Noire relaxed despite themself. Merle yawned and curled up with their head on Noire’s lap, accepting that Sparrow needed Magpie more right now.

Noire stroked Merle’s hair, something they hadn’t done in days because Merle had been too wrapped up in Magpie to bother with Noire. Noire hadn’t even realized how much they’d missed it.

Noire’s eyes drooped closed. They might have even fallen asleep, except that Sparrow chose that moment to ask, “Where is that?” Noire’s eyes flew open and they looked over in disbelief. Sparrow was leaning over Magpie’s arm in order to see the page better. Sparrow looked a little out of it still, but they were back from wherever they’d gone inside themself.

In the same soothing voice that was like a goddamn relaxation superpower, Magpie read the information to Sparrow again now that they were aware enough to hear it. Sparrow nodded along, their gaze fixed on Magpie’s finger as it traced the lines of text.

Merle yawned and sat up, blinking blearily, their hair in disarray. “I fell asleep,” they complained. They sounded so cross about it that Noire and Magpie burst out laughing. Merle’s scowl deepened, even as Magpie looped their arms around Merle and pulled them in to press a kiss to their temple.

“Oh Bibi, you’re so cute,” Magpie laughed.

“It’s your fault I fell asleep,” Merle said, frowning at Magpie. Clearly they felt that Magpie should be sorry, not getting amusement out of something that was their fault.

“You’re right, it is,” Magpie said cheerfully. They released Merle and wiggled out from under Sparrow. “So! Who’s ready for breakfast?” they asked, grinning as Merle and Sparrow groaned.

“No, Magpie, don’t feed us!” Merle objected.

Noire probably shouldn’t be so pleased that Merle’s food problem hadn’t cured itself with Magpie’s appearance, and that Magpie was used to it. It made it feel less like their fault when Noire couldn’t get Merle to eat something.

##

Noire had been planning to take the group out for ice cream, since they hated being stuck in the house and always assumed that other people felt the same way. However, given Sparrow’s earlier episode, a quiet day was probably a better plan.

Magpie seemed agreeable to Noire’s suggestion to watch movies. “Sure, Noire, whatever you want,” they’d said. It was possible that they had been distracted by feeding Merle oatmeal and hadn’t heard the question, but Noire decided to take the answer at face value. (There was no question that Sparrow wasn’t listening. They hadn’t even looked up from picking lumps out of their oatmeal).

Still, everyone followed Noire into the living room after breakfast. When the movie began to play, Merle groaned out loud. “No, Noire, not your k-dramas!” they complained.

Noire was defensive. “What’s wrong with my k-dramas?”

“You know I don’t like them!”

“Well, it’s my turn to pick,” Noire retorted, which was true. Merle had picked last time they had a movie night.

Merle muttered but sank into the couch cushions without further complaint.

Within an hour, Magpie was asleep. Sparrow seemed fascinated by the drama, but the theatrics often puzzled them. “Why are they doing that?” Sparrow asked Noire more than once. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Sparrow liked things to make sense, and Noire’s explanation of “for entertainment!” didn’t seem to satisfy them.

Merle didn’t complain anymore about the show, but when it was their turn to pick a movie, they jumped up with obvious relief.

At noon, Noire got up to make lunch, leaving the others on the couch. Magpie woke up as they were finishing, and stumbled into the kitchen. “Do you need help with anything?” Magpie asked, rubbing their eyes like a child.

“Nah, I’m good,” Noire said. Lunch wasn’t complicated. Anybody could make sandwiches.

Well, maybe not Blanche. But Blanche was an idiot in the kitchen and shouldn’t be counted.

Magpie caught sight of the clock display on the stove and their eyes widened. “Is it really that late?” they asked. At Noire’s nod, Magpie let out a blustery breath. “You should not have let me sleep so long,”

“You’re still recovering. It’s only natural that we let you sleep.” Noire grabbed a plate in each hand and carried them out to the table. Magpie grabbed the remaining plates and followed.

“I’m healed, though. There’s no need to be concerned about me,” Magpie said.

Noire gave them a skeptical look, making Magpie frown. “You got kicked by Grisaille yesterday,” Noire pointed out. “And you can’t tell me that didn’t do damage. Grisaille’s damn strong.”

Magpie didn’t look happy, but they didn’t argue further. Instead they pointed to the sandwiches and said, “You know Sparrow won’t eat these, right?”

With a frown, Noire glanced in the direction of the living room. “Well, I know they’re not big on food, like Merle,” Noire began.

But Magpie was shaking their head. “Sparrow eats fine. It’s just that there’s only like, seven things they’ll eat.”

“Seriously?” Noire asked. They put all their annoyance into the word.

Magpie nodded. “Oatmeal, ice cream, yogurt, smoothies,” Magpie counted them off on their fingers. “Mashed potatoes, pudding, applesauce...”

By Arceus, what a pain. No wonder Sabrina complained that it was impossible to get Sparrow to eat any variety. “Well, maybe we’ll make a trip for ice cream today after all,” Noire said.

Magpie’s eyes lit. “That’s a great idea.”

Chapter Text

Sparrow didn’t eat the sandwich.

Since Magpie had warned Noire, they tried tried not to be too upset about it. But it was frustrating making food for people that resented having to eat it! Noire would have made their siblings so many cookies if they hadn’t known better. Magpie was the only one who might eat them.

But Sparrow brightened right up when Noire announced the plan to get ice cream. Ice cream was on the list of foods Sparrow liked, according to Magpie. From Sparrow’s reaction, it was the truth.

Merle wasn’t thrilled, but whatever. Can’t win ‘em all.

“What flavours do you like?” Noire asked. In deference to Merle, who was dragging their feet about leaving, the siblings were on the couch watching one last movie before they headed out.

“The basic ones,” Sparrow replied. They were brushing Magpie’s hair in preparation for the outing. Magpie leaned against the front of the couch and let them do it, apparently unconcerned that Sparrow planned to braid their hair. Sparrow had no fine motor control due to their prosthetic fingers, so Noire didn't expect the hairstyle to turn out well. “Strawberry and vanilla. As long as it’s smooth. I don’t like chunks.”

“Okay. Well, the place we’re going, chunks are optional,” Noire replied. Huh, Sparrow was actually doing a decent job with the braid. Sure it was loose and wispy, but it looked like it was supposed to be. Like a boho look.

When the movie ended, Merle begged for another. Noire saw this coming and shot them down, so Merle pouted the whole way to the ice cream parlour. When they stepped through the door though, Merle stopped and looked around in surprise at the pastel interior.

Sparrow stopped next to them. “Is something wrong, mon bebe?” they asked.

“I know this place,” Merle said, spinning in a slow circle. “I came here once before, with Blanche, Leader Candela, and Grisaille. It wasn’t long after I left the hospital, I think.”

“Well then, you can tell us what’s good,” Magpie said, looping an arm around Merle’s shoulders and guiding them to the counter.

Merle looked doubtful. “I just had strawberry,” they protested. “I do not know what else is good. I only know that peanuts are not.”

In Noire’s opinion, Merle’s hatred of peanuts was fucking tragic. It meant Merle would never inherit Noire’s love of Snickers bars.

Magpie, however, laughed at Merle’s verdict. “Fine, fine. I’ll make my own decisions then.”

Sparrow got vanilla soft serve and shunned the topping station, which was not a surprise given their proclaimed dislike of chunks. Magpie opted to play it safe with chocolate, and paused to ponder over toppings. There was a new lime flavour, so Noire decided to try that. Merle sent Noire’s bowl a judgmental look, apparently disapproving of the vibrant green ice cream. Noire was offended, especially when Merle opted for plain vanilla like Sparrow.

At least Merle didn’t shun the toppings station, opting for a scoop of caramel sauce and fresh strawberries.

Noire sometimes didn’t believe Merle was their clone, since Merle didn’t go wild with junk food like Noire did.

Seriously, where was their sweet tooth?

Merle stuck with Noire, which pleased them even if Merle was only curious what Noire would use to top what Merle had dubbed their “radioactive goop” (a shitton of sour gummies, that’s what).

Noire turned away to find that someone was leaning over the table Sparrow and Magpie had picked. It was a woman with long, wavy blue hair. She was leaning into Sparrow’s space with a big smile. Magpie looked amused. Sparrow looked flustered as the woman laughed and straightened. With a little wave at Sparrow, she turned and left.

Confused, Noire turned to Merle. “Who was that?” Noire asked.

Merle glanced up from contemplating the gummy Politoed at the topping station. “Who is what?” they asked, looking around.

“Never mind,” Noire said. Clearly Merle had missed the whole thing. “You want any of those?”

“Oh, no.” Merle looked alarmed. “I thought they would suit yours. They are green, see?”

What the hell. Noire took some to please the child. After Noire paid, they joined the other two at the table. Magpie’s eyebrows arched when they saw Noire’s bowl, but they voiced no judgment as they took another bite of their reasonable chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

“What did that girl want?” Noire asked, sampling their ice cream. Woah, sour. Nice. They took another bite.

Magpie smirked. “To flirt with Sparrow,” they replied, causing Sparrow’s face to go red.

“She wasn’t,” Sparrow protested. “I was only talking to her!”

Noire thought back. Well, she was pretty cute. Amelie always told Noire that they were an idiot when it came to knowing when people were flirting. But the woman had been playing with her hair and leaning into Sparrow’s space. Those were supposed to be signs of flirting, right?

“She gave Sparrow her number,” Magpie said, picking up a small slip of paper and waving it.

Merle was appalled. “Sparrow! You’re married!” Merle exclaimed. “You mustn’t cheat!”

Magpie burst out laughing, while Merle tried to yell over them that it wasn’t funny, this was serious, they were going to tell Sparrow’s wife that they had been unfaithful! Sparrow protested.

“I wasn’t cheating, Merle! It was just a conversation! Tell them, Magpie!” Sparrow appealed to Magpie for help, but Magpie was face down on the table, laughing too hard to come to Sparrow’s rescue.

People were staring, which wouldn’t have bothered Noire if their siblings hadn’t lost their goddamn minds.

Things had mostly settled down by the time they headed back to Sabrina’s penthouse, except that every time Magpie made eye contact with Sparrow, Magpie would start giggling again. Merle still wasn’t impressed, even though Magpie had finally settled down enough to explain that talking to someone for two minutes wasn’t cheating.

Noire wanted to ask about Sparrow’s wife (wife! No one had mentioned that Sparrow was married!) but Merle was in the back seat glowering with their arms crossed across their chest, and Magpie was still losing a fight with the giggles. Noire didn’t want to start the chaos over and have their siblings be hysterical when Noire passed them back to Sabrina.

Noire escorted them up. Sabrina met them at the door. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“Yes,” Magpie said. To avoid eye contact with Sabrina they ended up looking at Sparrow. A few giggles escaped, quickly smothered.

Sabrina’s eyebrows rose. When she looked to Noire for an explanation, they shrugged. Noire doubted she would find the story as entertaining as Magpie seemed to.

Apparently deciding that she didn’t want to know, Sabrina wandered back into the penthouse.

Since Sabrina was home, Noire’s job was done. They ruffled Merle’s hair - the kid was still sulking - and gave them a one-armed hug. “Well, I should head out. I’ll see you around, kiddo,” Noire said.

Merle’s arms dropped from their chest and they looked up at Noire in alarm. “You’re leaving? Already?” Merle asked, visibly distressed.

Taken aback by Merle’s reaction, Noire blinked at the child. “Um, yeah? I don’t live here, remember?” Noire said. And they’d been here for hours.

Crestfallen, Merle’s head drooped. “I thought we could watch another movie before you left,” Merle whispered.

Noire’s heart clenched. Maybe a stronger person could have resisted that cute face and the sad little pout, but Noire was already stepping inside. “I guess I could stay a bit longer,” they said, gratified when Merle’s eyes lit up.

“Yay! Come on, you can help me set it up!” Merle said, grabbing Noire’s hand and pulling them down the hall.

Magpie and Sparrow exchanged a look before following. “Sounds fun,” Magpie said.

“Should we invite Blanche?” Sparrow asked. They looked awkward as they stood in the middle of the living room while Noire and Merle knelt in front of the TV. “I wouldn’t want them to feel left out.”

“Blanche has some gala or other for Mystic today, so Annie will be hounding them,” Noire replied, waiting while Merle scanned Netflix. Noire would like to crash that gala, but Sabrina had vetoed their plans due to lack of value for Team Rocket.

Personally, Noire suspected she just wanted them available to keep an eye on Magpie as needed. What was she expecting to happen anyway, Noire wondered. They glanced back. Magpie was lounging on the couch and patting the cushion to encourage Sparrow to have a seat. Sparrow hovered for a moment longer, indecisive, before sitting in the spot Magpie indicated.

From what Noire had seen, Magpie had been polite, considerate, and well-behaved, even if Noire sometimes found their sense of humour hard to understand. It wasn’t in Sabrina’s nature to be paranoid, but Noire wished she would share more of her thought process.

The selection made, Noire and Merle joined the others on the couch. It was close quarters, but Merle seemed to enjoy being snuggled up with their siblings. Merle was relaxed enough that they fell asleep before the movie was half over.

Noire slipped out after the movie ended, letting Magpie carry Merle to bed. Sparrow followed Noire to the door, giving them an awkward hug goodbye. “Give Blanche my regards,” Sparrow said, so solemn that Noire almost laughed in their face. Sparrow might be the one who was hardest to understand, actually.

Instead, Noire strove to be serious. “I will. Good night, Sparrow.”

##

The piercing ring of Noire’s cellphone woke Noire the next morning while it was still dark. Noire groaned and rolled over, fumbling for it in the dark. They squinted at the display.

4:00 a.m.

Sabrina.

Shit, it was some kind of emergency. “Hey, Auntie,” Noire answered, rubbing a hand over their face to try and wake themself up.

“Noire. Is Merle with you?” Sabrina’s voice on the other end was controlled, but Noire could hear the notes of fear and panic even before the words fully registered.

They sat up, kicking the blankets off. Their heart hammered with dread. “What? No. Why would they be here?” Noire asked. They were already reaching for pants.

“Because they’re not here.”

##

Sabrina was waiting for Noire in the entryway of her penthouse, more distressed than Noire had ever seen her. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, which was not usual, and her hair and clothes were disheveled.

“What happened, Auntie?” Noire asked, even as their eyes scanned the kitchen and living room as if Merle would suddenly appear.

Sabrina’s hands twisted together. “I’m not sure,” she replied. “I remember I was in my office working last night and Magpie came in. I don’t remember anything after that.”

Noire whirled around. “They hurt you?” Noire demanded, fury rising in their chest.

Sabrina shook her head. “Magpie knocked me out, I think, but nothing hurts. I’ve always sensed hostility from them, but no intent to harm. I’d let my guard down, so they were able to get close.” Sabrina pinched the bridge of her nose. “I woke up on the floor of my office, covered with a blanket. Merle, Magpie, and Sparrow were gone.”

Sabrina scrubbed her hands over her face, then dropped them and looked around. She looked defeated. “I knew even before I left my office. Their presence was gone.”

Noire’s heart beat in their throat. Merle, their baby, kidnapped. They tried to calm down and think rationally, but it was hard when older sibling panic mode had been ramped up to 100. “I’m going to check Merle’s room. See if there’s any clues,” Noire said. What else could they do? They had no idea where Magpie would have run off to with their small sibling.

“Fine. I have to call Willow. Dammit,” Sabrina said with feeling, turning toward her office. “Another thing for Blanche to blame me for.”

Noire didn’t reply, just went up the stairs and down the hall the Merle’s room. They flipped the light on.

At first glance, the room looked undisturbed. Merle’s bed was made like every morning, and Sparrow’s nest of blankets on the floor had been folded up and stacked on Merle’s bed. Their books were on the bookshelf, their clothes in the dresser when Noire opened the doors to check. Even Merle’s collection of treasures was still in the closet - a river rock from their picnic at the Instinct Sanctuary, a Mystic hoodie borrowed from Blanche and never returned, various sparklies they had gotten from Candela (lone earrings, their pairs long lost, a button off a fancy coat, a shoe buckle).

But Noire knew this child. They knew what Merle considered most precious out of their treasures. And Merle’s polka-dot backpack was missing.

Noire had noticed the absence of Merle’s nightlight the instant they stepped into the room. Now they sorted through Merle’s dresser, their bookshelf, and their box of simple treasures, tallying up what was missing.

Merle’s crescent moon nightlight.

Amelie’s nose ring, which Merle had stolen off her when she fell asleep during one of their movie nights. Noire had pretended not to know Merle had taken it.

The cuddle pillows from Noire and Blanche were missing from the pile on Merle’s bed. The very first one from Amelie was still there, though. Noire held it for a moment, breathing in Merle’s scent, before setting it aside.

Merle’s jewellery box, never full, was missing their ammolite necklace and a cheap arcade prize ring.

Two shirts, two pairs of pants, two dresses, and six sets of socks and underwear. No attempt had been made to disguise the gaps in Merle’s meticulously organized dresser.

A small notebook of handwritten egg facts from Spark.

A drawing from Grisaille was missing off Merle’s bulletin board, prompting Noire to examine the board more closely. They counted seven empty spots where photos used to be.

With their investigation completed, Noire sat down on Merle’s bed, pressing one of Merle’s cuddle pillows to their hollow stomach.

All of Merle’s most favourite things were gone. Magpie wouldn’t have known to take them. Magpie wouldn’t have known where Merle kept the thumb tacks they weren’t using (in a jar in their closet) or put them away so tidily as they took down the photographs. Magpie wouldn’t have known that Merle hated the drawing of Professor Willow that Grisaille had given them and only tacked it to their bulletin board out of love for Grisaille. How could Magpie have known to take Grisaille’s drawing of Blanche and Noire, but leave the one of Willow?

Noire knew.

Merle told Magpie.

Merle chose to go.