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Aelita calls at two in the morning, and Ulrich already knows what kind of call it will be.
“Can you come over?” she asks. Innocent, sweet. Ulrich almost believes it.
“On my way.” No questions asked. As usual.
He drives to Aelita’s. Aelita waits for him in her car. He slides into the passenger seat.
His sword is hidden in a secret panel in the trunk. So are their other supplies.
So is their victim.
Ulrich tries not to think about it.
He hates this job he’s volunteered to do. He still goes, anyway. He doesn’t have a choice.
He can’t help but wonder, once again, if he could have stopped this. Stopped Aelita. Helped her before she’d become…this. But to do that, he’d have needed to find a therapist for her, and there isn’t anyone in the world they can confess their Lyoko war to. He’d have needed to see her spiraling as she became obsessed looking for her mother, as she tried to piece together what little she knew about the Men in Black. He’d have needed to be there when the Men in Black came for Jeremy.
But he wasn’t.
Jeremy’s unknown fate, XANA and Lyoko, the lost childhood with her father - it broke Aelita.
It must have broken something in him, too. Why else would he be here?
He remembers the first time it happened. Aelita says it was an accident, always with that same sweet grin on her face. Ulrich is no longer sure. It doesn’t matter. He helped her then, too. A part of him wishes he’d walked away. He knows he never would.
So many years were devoted to protecting Aelita. Now, in their thirties, is no different. Protecting Aelita is no longer attacking monsters and accompanying her to a tower. It’s keeping her hidden: from the Men in Black, from the police, from anyone asking too many questions.
She doesn’t exist, after all.
Aelita drives and drives and drives. Eventually, she parks, and the two exit the vehicle. Ulrich stares at the trunk.
Aelita has tracked down Men in Black for years. But sometimes she’s been wrong.
Most times, she’s been wrong.
Ulrich doesn’t want to know anymore.
“This is the last time. I promise.” Aelita lies without realizing she’s lying, earnest in the moment.
“Okay,” he says. Weary. Resigned. He knows this song and dance well.
He wonders how much Yumi and Odd know. And they must know something. Aelita isn’t that good of a liar. Ulrich can’t lie at all.
The trunk opens.
Ulrich’s heart stops.
He knows this person.
So does Aelita.
So did Aelita. Before she was lost to her madness.
The old Ulrich would yell, demand answers, walk away (but not turn Aelita in, never turn Aelita in).
This new Ulrich has been numb for nearly a decade.
Aelita smiles and thanks him as he takes his sword and hacks away at the corpse and pretends he doesn’t recognize the body. Burns the pieces, scatters the ashes.
Another piece of his soul burns with them.