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Chapter Text

Winter

Cynthia stalked through the cracked and broken foyer of Team Galactic’s primary headquarters and past the handful of grunts and scientists who’d yet to desert the building and the company.

The building could be described as a desolate shell of its former self, but the fact that Galactic had blown the building up themselves (for god knows what reason) ruined any potential charm of the ruins.

One or two of the braver Grunts gave Cynthia a sideways glance of distrust and fear, but none of them dared try and deter her from making her way through to the upper stories of the building.

A week after the events that had led to the disappearance of Team Galactic Leader Cyrus into the distortion realm had not been one that left anyone well disposed towards the leftover members. There were arrangements to be made with the Commanders of Galactic, and Cynthia intended to see to this personally.

Cynthia had only entered this building a handful of times, but the lack of habitable rooms on the top two stories lessened the area to search.

Coupled with the personality of the Commanders and their lack of inside voices is made it childishly easy to find the first of them.

“NO! Don’t just throw the rubbish out that window! God, it’s like you forget that we own this whole area! We’ll just have to move it again later if you do that! Throw it out that window, idiot! That’s public land, and that way we don’t have to take responsibility for it!” Commander Mars told the poor scientist who was just trying to get to her desk.

Cynthia stalked the edge of the room slightly, round to just behind Mars. The scientist froze as she noted her presence.

The now ex-Commander Mars did not.

“—And another thing! Stop telling the interns to set things on fire! They do it wrong, and then I gotta do it all over again! I mean I like setting things on fire but only when they’re fresh. Trying to set fire to half-burned trash is annoying on about seventeen separate levels and—”

“Commander Mars,” Cynthia said right behind Mars’ back, and while it didn’t give her pleasure to see the jump that caused, it was just a little satisfying.

“Why don’t you make noise when you walk!” Mars yelled, clutching at her chest.

“I do believe that I ordered you to turn up to my office. Yesterday, even. Care to explain why you failed to turn up?”

“You’re not my boss and I don’t have to do what you say!”

“Mars, you are currently only not in prison by my grace and Looker failing to properly file the correct paperwork. You’ll find that you absolutely have to do what I say.”

“Hey, I barely followed Cyrus’s orders and he paid me! What makes you think that you can threaten me into doing anything, huh? You and who’s authority!”

Cynthia took out the binder that she’d brought with her, ignoring Mars’ rightfully alarmed step back and warding gesture, as Cynthia found the correct paper.

“By the authority of the court of Sinnoh.”

“I don’t like that,” Mars said, by some miracle managing to look a little alarmed at this turn of events. “What did I do to deserve this? I’m a good law-abiding citizen, me!”

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “I have here your list of offences, and I believe that the destruction of public property, kidnapping of Pokémon, explosions, a lot of cases of arson, and about a dozen other minor felonies, are the primary charges.”

“Oh! It’s a list of my greatest achievements!” Mars said, brightening up. “Do I get a copy of them if I go to trial? Oh! Can I submit video evidence? I have good quality footage of most of what I did if it helps!”

“…You do not yet appear aware of how dire these charges could be, and the estimated jail time is only for these offences. There is also the near destruction of our known universe, however, that’s…let us say that currently, that’s not an offence, but it will be by the time that your case goes to court.”

“Wait, what was that last one?” Mars asked. “What got the universe nearly destroyed? I don’t remember that one!”

“Cyrus wanted to make a new world by unmaking this one. What did you think he meant?” Cynthia asked, a little flatly.

“I thought he wanted to stop being sad,” Mars said. “You know. The depression thing he’s not got? And the whole ‘remaking the world’ thing was him finding a good hobby!”

“Hobby,” Cynthia said flatly.

“Yeah! I mean, no one said it out loud, but that’s gotta be it. Gotta level with you, Cynthia; I never listened that much to what he said. That was Saturn’s job. I just got pointed at problems and told to either make it worse or make it go away. And I’m pretty sure Cyrus didn’t wanna destroy anything? I think? I mean, he was that one that told me to stop kicking people and taking their lunch money! Why would he do that if he wanted to destroy everything? And I really don’t remember ‘destroying the world’ or whatever coming up in Saturn’s daily briefings, and if anyone knew what the boss wanted to do, it was Saturn.”

Cynthia slowly breathed out. If she’d been anyone else, Cynthia would have suspected that this was manipulation. But that likely required intelligence greater than that of the average Geodude.

Mars folded her arms primly. “Look, go and talk to someone else, kay? Now I got things to throw out the window, so if you don’t mind—”

 Cynthia raised the paper back into Mars’s field of vision and snapped it to draw back her attention to the document.

“—In that case, it’s merely a matter of every other crime you committed and took video footage of. That will prove to the people judging you that you deserve to go to prison.”

“…Ah.” Mars’s expression crumpled a little. “I…But I don’t…didn’t…I mean I did, and damned if I’m going to deny the stuff I did for Cyrus, because I’d never do that even if it means getting punished for it, but ah…Can the trial thingy wait until Cyrus gets back? Maybe? Please? I…I don’t want to do it alone…? I know we’re not friends anymore, but please could you like…just push about the dates a little? A few months is fine! I’m sure Cyrus will be back by then! And no one ever has to know you helped me! I’ll take the secret to my grave!”

Cynthia rubbed his eyes. This was business, not personal, and no place for Mars to be trying to be making ridiculous stories up.

Mars needed to understand where she stood here.

“Cyrus isn’t going to be back, Mars.”

Mars dug her fingers into her elbows. “Yes, he is.” She muttered. “He’s not dead, just is that weird overworld place. He’ll be back. Just gotta wait for him.”

This time Cynthia couldn’t stop the sigh.

Folding the paper back up, she slipped it away, Mars watching this action with confusion. “Well. Whether or not Cyrus is still alive, he is no longer your boss. As of approximately two hours ago, I am now legally, physically, emotionally, and financially responsible for you and the rest of Galactic.”

“You’re the new boss?” Mars asked, indignant. “I’m not following your orders—”

“I’m not asking you to follow my orders. I’m telling you that I’m going to give you a set of rules, and you can either follow them, or you can go to prison. You cannot opt-out of this.”

“Cyrus will be very angry that you took over Galactic the second he was gone! Saturn will fight you on this!” Mars snapped.

“Cyrus is currently missing, presumed dead, after nearly killing a lot of people. Including you, Saturn, me, and every other person currently alive on this planet and possibility the whole of this dimension. If he comes back from wherever his own poor life choices banished him to, he can take it up with me then and only then. But that is a different problem and not one that involves you.” Cynthia replied.

“…What are you going to do with me?” Mars asked. “Am I really going to prison?”

Cynthia breathed out. “…No. Because I don’t believe it achieves anything, even you probably do deserve it. No, you are currently, like the rest of galactic, going to be under my supervision. You are not under house arrest, but if you try and leave the area you will find that the arrest warrant can and will be brought back. I would very much like you to try and find something…constructive to do, but I’d settle for anything not deconstructive. Do you think you can manage to stay here and not test me further?”

“Yes, Champion Cynthia, Maam.”

It was a bitter retort and one probably only given because of the threat, but it was also a good start. Cynthia was willing to work with it.

“Carry on, Mars. I’ll be back.”

Exiting the room, Cynthia noted the grunt reappearing from the desk she’d hid behind and the whispered argument that started before she was even out of ear shot.

It was tricky trying to deal with people that knew. There was the urge to try and play on the personal connection, but that would only reveal weakness or worse make the link more personal.

Mars had proved how that would turn out.

This was about Sinnoh. Not personal connections; something that Cynthia never had, and never intended, to mix.

Finding the next target was almost as easy to find as Mars.

In the main room, where all the Lake Guardian’s had been held and where so many wrecked machines still were, was Scientist Charon.

Charon noticed her at once, unlike Mars, and paused in packing a box that was staked on a pile of bigger boxes onto a trolly. He’d evaded capture the first time, and Cynthia would have expected him not to be present if she’d not assigned a competent agent to prevent that.

“Ah, Champion Cynthia, what a pleasure to see you! Now I know you must be here to see the commanders; you’ll fine Saturn and Jupiter are just down the hall, and I’d hate to keep you—”

“On the contrary, I’m here to talk to you, Scientist Charon.”

Charon winced and slowly lowered the box back onto the trolly. “…Ah, I did hope that I had time for this. I see I should have gone directly to the airport.”

“That would have done you no good since you are now on a do not fly list in every border for our region,” Cynthia replied.

“…You work fast. I should have guessed when you set someone competent to track me.” Charon sighed and leaned against the trolly. “I’d really hoped not to spend the next decade in prison, but I see that it was not to be.”

“You are almost on the same page as me, I see,” Cynthia said and pulled the next paper from her binder. “You have a very long record, Charon. And about a dozen names to go with your career over the last forty years. Tell me, how accurate is this report? I’m asking mostly for curiosities sake, but still.”

Charon sighed a little but took the paper, pulling his glasses down his nose to inspect it. “…This is surprisingly comprehensive. You did miss attribute several items, but that doesn’t matter that much. And I note that the paper includes as many of my more…neutral projects as the less ethical ones. May I ask why you appear to have gathered my resume?”

“Because I’d like to ask how much I’d have to pay you to acquire morals.”

“…That is a novel approach. I don’t think anyone’s ever tried that one before.”

“Oh, it is, but I have faith that it can only work better than the last handful of attempts to reform you from Hoenn and Kalos. But you appear to only work for a paycheck, and none of your three separate stints in prison appears to have reformed you at all. As such, I would like to make an offer….”

Handing over the other paper, Cynthia waited for Charon to read it. It took longer than she’d expected, but then again, he was smart enough to check the fine print that might be overlooked by a less wary person.

“…Can I ask what the catch is? You aren’t paying a lot, but it's generous considering I was expecting prison. You can see why I’m…suspicious of your goodwill, I take it? No offence! But I’d rather know ahead of time, you see.”

“The catch is that I will be inspecting your lab regularly and assigning you tasks, and I will expect them to be done in a reasonable time. I am paying you the same as I will be offering the rest of Galactic. Consider it a base income to incentivize you to never cause me another problem again and so that I know where you are and what you’re doing. This will benefit both of us in the long run, don’t you agree? And if you stray from this path and again use others in your schemes…Well. Then I suppose that I’ll have to bring thing one up again.” Cynthia said, plucking the page of crimes back.

Charon laughed. “I see! A fascinating approach indeed. Yes, I think I’ll take up your offer then, provided you give me a full copy of the contract to read first, that is. However, I doubt that it will work for the others though. They’re a little bit more fanatical than me. It’s a little disappointing how few minions these days work for a paycheck, but ah, the youth do tend to get invested easily, don’t they?”

“You will get a copy and a week to read it and to get a lawyer to check it if you want. And I am aware of the problems of the commanders, but that is my problem, not yours. Do we have a deal, Scientist Charon? Will you work for me?”

“For the wage you’re offering, I will take up whatever morals you wish me to!”

“Then we’re done here. I will return once you’ve signed, and I have a clear idea of what I want you to do.”

“I do wish you’d given this to me earlier, I could have saved myself the trouble of packing all my equipment,” Charon complained under his breath.

Cynthia sniffed. “If you’d turned up when ordered, I would have informed you of this. Alas, you did not.”

“Fair!” Charon shook his head. “I will start unpacking again, then. Commander Jupiter is on the main floor. You will find that she’s a tougher nut to crack. And Commander Saturn is in Cyrus’s office. You will find him…well. You’ll see.”

“It will take more than a poor attitude and misplaced loyalty to a fool to stop me.” With a final nod, Cynthia left, climbing to the next floor up and down the hall.

She could have asked Charon what he’d known of Cyrus’s plots, but she doubted it would have resulted in a satisfactory answer. With Charon’s reputation she suspected that he’d probably planned in advance for the failure of the Galactic plot. There had been a few minor notes in those records that had…caught her eye.

Perhaps even evil scientists for hire wanted there to be a world to continue to work on, at the end of the day. It wasn’t enough to exonerate him, but it was enough to give Cynthia hope that this plot of hers would work.

Most people didn’t want to see the world burn, even if they worked for those who did.

The ex-Commander Jupiter was alone in what looked a lot like a mess hall, with a book open on the half of a table not covered with rubble from the partly collapsed roof. Galactic’s base far enough up in the mountains to suffer the worst of Sinnoh’s winter weather, something obvious due to the snow scattered over the floor.

There was a small space heater near Jupiter, set up under the table, and that had melted some of the snow so it formed puddles among the piles of rubble on the ground.

“Champion Cynthia,” Jupiter said, not looking up.

“Commander Jupiter,” Cynthia replied, stopping to stand across the table from her.

There was a wine glass at Jupiter’s elbow, ice crystalizing about the rim of the glass, and a twirly straw stuck into the drink.

Commander Jupiter, born in Galar, and more recently from Hoenn, was a career minion. This would be the third time she’d been at the scene of the end of an organization. Cynthia was genuinely surprised she’d not attempted to make a run for it. Perhaps she’d noted the agent tracking her and been smart enough not to try.

Jupiter looked cold and distant, but Cynthia had seen for herself that Jupiter had taken Cyrus’s ‘death’ poorly.

When Giratina had dragged Cyrus from this world, it had been no surprise that Mars had needed to be held back, but that Jupiter looked as genuinely shaken as she had…it had been informative.

Still, Jupiter was the most uncertain element in galactic..

“You didn’t come to the meeting. It was not a friendly request.” Cynthia said flatly.

“There were three outcomes from following such an order,” Jupiter said, not looking up from the book. “One; you’d arrest me again. Two; you’d attempt to hire or reform me. Three; you’d attempt to exile me from Sinnoh. None of these options compelled me, and as such, I saw no reason to follow any orders from you until such time you force it upon me. As long as I stay here, the paycheck from the company will continue to arrive in my bank account, and I’ll stay until either you force me to make a choice, or I run out of money.”

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. “Commander Jupiter—”

“My title is no longer Commander,” Jupiter said flatly.

“Jupiter—”

“I have a name.”

Cynthia pinched her nose. “…Alison Smith—

“Never mind, I’ve changed my mind. That name sound sounds too strange coming from your mouth. Please return to using my codename.”

Cynthia took a moment to consider if prison really was the correct answer. But humanity and dignity were not optional, even if the person in question were vexing to deal with.

“Jupiter. First, I have to tell you that I have taken possession of Galactic’s assets, and they are under the control of Sinnoh. Secondly, while I could arrest you and have enough evidence to convince you, I’m not going to do that. Thirdly, I want to ask you a question. How much did you know about Cyrus’s plans? I am not asking you to justify yourself, merely to ascertain your…connection to this situation. I know your past, but also, I think that this was more personal than it could have been.”

“I was paid, I did my job, and despite what you may believe, that’s all that motivated me. I know your past too, Champion, and your connection to this.” Jupiter shut the book with a snap. “I don’t believe that you’re doing this for the good of Sinnoh. I think you’re doing it for the good of your own conscious.”

Cynthia ran her eye over the edges of the room, mulling over Jupiter’s words and staying quiet as she waited to see what else Jupiter might reveal.

“…What do you want to hear? That I feel guilty?” Jupiter smoothed a hand down her uniform that she was still wearing despite everything. “I think that apart from Charon, I had the best understanding of the actions we undertook. Even over Cyrus, I understood more, not that it was a difficult thing.  He was always more interested in philosophy than the practical. The leader was very good at sounding inspiring.”

None of that was quite what she’d asked, but Cynthia found that she did understand a little better. If you didn’t know how belief and science came together, it was very easy to believe someone who spoke passionately.

But they were not the same, even if some people failed to understand that.

“Did you intend to remake the world?” Cynthia asked, tone blunt.

“I…Yes. To…” Jupiter paused visibly, trying to sort over the words she wanted to say.

Cynthia noted the drink again, the one that was almost gone.

“Destroy evil in people’s souls?” Cynthia poked, trying to see if that would get a reaction.

Jupiter’s attention snapped back to Cynthia. “What do you want to hear? That I wanted power and control? I can give a villainousness speech, if it would please you.”

Cynthia pressed her fingers into the side of her forehead a moment. “If it would make you happy. Otherwise, I could do without the inevitable manic laugher. I’ve had enough of that for the rest of the year though I suspect that my desire will matter little in the long run.”

“…I wasn’t anticipating you to be this calm,” Jupiter said, squinting a little. “You and Cyrus were friends once, were you not? I was expecting…something more from you. Not this cold detachment. Or is merely a façade for the icy rage below?”

Cynthia considered this a moment, fingers rubbing small circles into the side of her head. “This is not personal. This is work. I do not let those overlap.”

“That sounds an unfortunate way to live,” Jupiter said. “And I don’t believe you, either. Not for a moment. No one can fully separate personal and work.”

A slight smile tugged at Cynthia’s mouth. “I am very efficient.”

“If you feel anything then it will bleed into everything else. It doesn’t matter if you think that you’re keeping them separate; they will bleed over until you feel even if you don’t want to.”

Projection was a hell of a drug, Cynthia mused, before she turned back to eye Jupiter. She could continue to argue for hours, but there was still one more person to deal with.

Perhaps a little directness could be good. It might even be appreciated.

“I am unsure what to do with you,” Cynthia said simply, and waited to see what reaction that would get.

Jupiter frowned, looking genuinely thrown. “Why would you admit that?”

“Because, I wonder what you’d do if left to your own devices, now that everything is over.”

“…I do not know what answer you want me to give. I’m essentially taking a holiday on company funds. Do you intend to keep paying me to do that, now you own Galactic?” Jupiter said with a snide edge to her voice.

“Perhaps I do. What are the chances of you killing anyone, if I leave you to your own devices while paying you enough to live on?”

Jupiter flinched. “What? Why would you—”

“—Are you going to take a weapon and hurt people?” Cynthia continued, steamrolling over Jupiter’s confused interruption.

“No! Why would I—?” Jupiter started again, her hands scratching across the cover of her book.

“Or attempt to put back into motion Cyrus’s schemes to end our world?” Cynthia continued, schooling her face to be calm and her eyes intent on Jupiter in a way that she knew made people uncomfortable.

“Where are you going with this!” Jupiter demanded.

“…If you intend no harm, then I will leave you here and continue paying you so that you may survive without suffering. I will be visiting and will request reports on any action you take that may have wider consequences. I will try to see that you find constructive uses for your time…but if you don’t hurt people again…Well, there are worse—”

There was a sharp crash from the end of the hall and incoherent yelling loud enough to cut off Cynthia.

Jupiter glanced towards the far end of the hall, expression a little tense. “…If you want a project to waste your charity on, it's better to waste it on him than me, Champion.”

Cynthia straightened her shoulders. “It’s hardly charity when it's my job,” she said and headed towards the doors at the end of the hall where she knew that Cyrus’s office had been.

This was going to be the most challenging part, and she’d not yet decided how to approach it.

Pushing open the doors, she noted that Cyrus’s office looked like someone was either plotting a heist or that someone had a mental crisis and had used the resulting energy to redecorate.

Commander Saturn was at one of the whiteboards that seem to have been pulled from the lab downstairs. Saturn was talking under his breath, too fast and frantic for the words to be audible. Everything about him was scruffy, and as he half turned to kick at a pile of papers, she could see the dark circles under his eyes.

Cynthia stepped over the discarded energy drink cans, paced the back of the room, eyeing those whiteboards with learned suspicion.

“Saturn,” Cynthia said.

Saturn snapped about, almost dropping the pen, eyes wide as he focused on her.

“Cynthia? You’ve arrived so soon I’ve not even begun to get my defence in order—I’d hoped you’d take a few more days, you know. Isn’t there enough mess leftover to distract you for longer than a few hours? Shouldn’t the Champion that never sleeps have better things to do than turn up to arrest people like me in person?” He turned back to the board with a final snap, shifting to hold his pen in a tight grip.

“It’s been three days. How much longer were you expecting me to take?” She replied placidly and leaned against the doorway.

Saturn paused, hand raised to write, but not quite making the connection to the board. “I…Three days? Ah…I…I didn’t realize it had been that long already. It seems I lost track of time. That means…It’s already been a week since…” he trailed off.

The silence dragged on, giving Cynthia more time to check over what Saturn had been writing. Saturn had written out in full every one of those stupid and biased ideas that Cyrus had got so invested in. Ideas that, when written out neatly and carefully, could be made to sound almost true.

However…despite the commitment to the ideals of Cyrus, he was barely making headway.

For every point written out in full, there was at least a few extra notes, abbreviated references or sometimes just a string of curses written out below. But there was a consistent line of denial because, despite the evidence Cyrus had gathered, logic was fighting back.

Such a shame Saturn had not connected the dots as to why he couldn’t prove Cyrus right. But if he was capable of that, then they wouldn’t even be in this mess.

A single voice of reason might have been enough to keep Cyrus alive, but there hadn’t been one.

“This is your defence for the court?” Cynthia asked, tone colder than she’d let herself be thus far.

“…Its…” Saturn visibly swallowed and pulled at his fringe, evening it out as he kept himself half turned from her. “…I knew I was going to have to give my own defence. I couldn’t trust a lawyer to give it properly. And I…I knew that there was…complexities to Cyrus’s theories, and wanted to…prepare for counterarguments.”

“Mm?” Cynthia prompted, not hoping for much insight here but curious at even that admission, minor as it was.

She had the least hope for Saturn. There was a chance she’d be left with no choice but to agree with the majority idea and have to imprison him regardless. Because she was sure that Saturn was going to remain loyal to Cyrus even in death, and nothing she said was going to change that.

The only question here was what Saturn planned to do now and if he would become a threat to Sinnoh if left unchecked.

“…But I can’t do it. I don’t know what went wrong, but something must have gone wrong, because I can’t make this make sense. And that means either I’m wrong or….”

“Perhaps Cyrus’s plan to ‘remake the world’ was flawed,” Cynthia said and waited for Saturn to deny it.

But to her surprise that Saturn didn’t immediately shoot that down. In fact, he shrunk a little, hand clenching tight enough about the pen he was holding for it to creak at the pressure.

“That is the other option,” Saturn said lowly.

Cynthia paused, straightening as she eyed Saturn. This…this wasn’t what she’d expected from him.

Saturn didn’t seem to notice her shift and turned to wave a hand at the board. He miscalculated the distance and scraped the pen over the board, accidentally drawing a line through multiple meticulously copied paragraphs of text and equations of numbers linking them together.

There was a flinch, and Saturn jerked his hand back, staring at his smeared notes helplessly before twisting himself away from the mess.

“—I was trying to sort out the holes in his theory, there were always inconsistencies, but that’s because there are countless unknown edges to the universe. Sometimes the only way to know for sure what is there in those corners of darkness is to step into them and find out! Cyrus believed that there were unknown depths that we could use to make everything new, to fix the impurity of the human spirit and—”

“You cannot ‘fix’ humanity.” Cynthia cut in, already tired of this argument before it had started. “You live with it. People might be stupid, thoughtless, and unpleasant, but we live with it, Saturn.”

“Yes, yes, your useless optimistic platitudes are predicable as ever, Cynthia! And—No! That’s not what I’m talking about, shut up and let me—” Saturn stopped and scrapped his fingers over his eyes. “This isn’t about your stupid, hypocritical morals! This is about the theory—I think that Cyrus was wrong, Cynthia? I don’t understand—how do I make these stupid equations work!”

Cynthia had never had a head for the numbers involved in this sort of thought. The cross over point of myth and science remained unknown to even those masters of the disciplines. She concerned herself with history and mythology, understanding the world as it was and how people and Pokémon fit into it.

Not trying to find the magical way to find a perfect iteration of the universe. But she did know that the only people who’d ever thought Cyrus’s theories of the universe possible were mad…

…or fanatics who couldn’t envision that Cyrus could be wrong.

“I don’t care if you think that he was wrong!” Saturn snarled in an odd echoing of her own thoughts. “This is about how I don’t know how he reached the answers that he found— Cynthia, he wasn’t trying to remake the world, he can’t have, because the only way that any of this makes sense was if he was going to destroy the old world first! I’m failing him, or I must be too stupid to understand because he cannot have been this wrong! How do you overlook something this basic?”

Cynthia cupped a hand about her wrist and lightly pressed her fingernails against her skin. “He told the world at large that this was his plan. His grand intention to fix the spirit of humanity. If you must start twisting the words he said, then some has been wrong for far longer than today.”

“I’m just his commander! He gave orders, and I follow them! I…don’t know what he truly intended. Maybe this is my fault. Maybe I am just too stupid to understand. I’m not a scientist; I’m just an administrator. But I thought that he trusted me enough to make sure I understood! Doesn’t matter if the rest didn’t understand; I should have! I’m Cyrus’s right hand! I’ve always been his right hand! Even when you stopped believing in him, I still did! I should be able to make sense of this absolute mess, but I can’t! Why can’t I understand!”

There was a crash as Saturn pulled the board off the wall, ripping the plaster where it had been attached, and smashed it onto the tiles. It was plastic, so it didn’t break neatly, but it did crack.

“What is wrong with these equations! Why is it that the only outcome is destruction? Why won’t they make sense?” Saturn kicked the board so that it skidded over the floor. “We were to remake humanity, not destroy it! What is WRONG with these godforsaken equations!”

Cynthia folded her arms, staring down Saturn as he stood panting in the middle of the floor.

“…Cyrus couldn’t have been this wrong. He just couldn’t.” Saturn said, voice thin and barely audible. “If he was wrong then…then everything I’ve built my life on means nothing.”

There was a childishness to his refusal, one that didn’t suit someone nearly twenty-five, in Cynthia’s opinion.

“Why did you think him to be right in the first place?” She asked, poking a little harder at the suddenly exposed weakness. “And don’t say, ‘because he said so’. You’re smarter than that, I hope.”

Saturn straightened, almost standing to attention as he closed his eyes. “Because the world is broken, people are evil, and it needs to change.”

Cynthia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. There was one thing that she’s learned that about half the people that had ever attempted to change the world (mainly in a way that would get a lot of people killed) were doing it for philosophical reasons.

It made sense theoretically. Humanity’s wills, beliefs, love and desires could change the world.

The impossible was made real every time a child defeated a master of their craft through nothing but will and friendship.

There was so much evidence for how human will could change the world, that it was simply a known quantity. Even if only the domain of philosophy and myth ever dared try and explain such events.

But in practice, some basic understanding of the building blocks of reality helped make sure that someone didn’t nearly destroy the world. Physics might not look to have the same power as such beings as Arceus or The Lake Trio, but woe to the man who didn’t think to consider it in their plans.

“And at no point did you consider that ‘remaking the world’ might involve unmaking the old?” Cynthia asked, voice a little colder than she’d meant it to be.

Saturn ducked his head, tucking his chin low, so he didn’t have to look her in the eye. “I…the human spirit is greater than mere physical building blocks... But I don’t know if I can defend this even if I still believe it to be right. I’m going to try, even if I doubt. Throw your worst and me, Cynthia, and I’ll still try…but it would be kinder if you were to skip straight to the execution.”

Cynthia rubbed her eyes. “I’m not going to execute you, Saturn,” she interrupted. “And perhaps you’re having trouble justifying this because Cyrus was perhaps a little irrational? And being guided by that nihilistic and chronically depressed mindset that’s influenced everything he’s done for the last decade and a half? How can you look me in the eye and say that you never not for a moment had a doubt that you were doing the right thing?”

“Never. Because I’ve never seen evidence that humanity as it is, is worth keeping as it is.” Saturn snarled, dropping the façade of calm but only for a moment before he shifted into misery. “…None of that matters anyway, because he’s gone now.”

Cynthia folded her arms, “Gone for now. I never count anyone as gone for good until I see a body.”

Saturn gave a quick and bitter laugh. “He’d gone because he’s not coming back. That was the last thing he told me. That I wasn’t to look for him… and I still don’t know how to explain to people that he was right. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want me to follow him there.” Saturn muttered. “—I need to work harder. Something here hasn’t lined up, and it’s my fault. I can do it. I just need to find the true answer; that way, when I go to court, I can explain—”

“Saturn,” Cynthia said, interrupting again. “I’m not going to arrest you.”

Saturn looked like a man who’d tripped at the edge of a cliff, only to find a soft landing among the spikes he’d thought he’d seen below. “I…but why would you do that?”

“Because it would achieve nothing. I could tell you that it’s because I’m fond of you, but that honestly not true. I’m doing this because I doubt that punishing you will do anything but strengthen your resolve. If it came to it, there is nothing I can do that would stop you from believing in Cyrus. So, I’m not going to try.”

“I just told you why I can’t justify anything we did! You could, should even, condemn me for this!”

Cynthia sharpened her voice and cut in, “—This is not a release to do whatever you want, however. I took responsibly for you, and the rest of Galactic. I have repossessed the assets of the company. I’ve seen to it that you no longer have the budget to try and destroy the world again. And now, anything you do will reflect on me, personally. I’d ask you to remember that, but I doubt it would have any effect on your actions.”

Saturn dug his fingers into the sides of his face, staring at her in something like shock. “I don’t understand why you’d do this—”

Cynthia ignored him, and kept going, determined to map out the limitations of this as directly as possible.

There would be no cause for future complaints that she’d not been clear.

“—You are not to leave the region, and I would very much prefer that you and the rest of Galactic do not wander too far from this area either, not without my permission. The rules for the rest will be a little laxer, and I will be given you written documents of my expectations, but you will not leave this building or take action without my permission. I will be checking in three times a week, and you will give me weekly reports on your activities. I do not care if you just give me a paper saying you slept, ate and used your computer for games. You will keep me updated every week. Can you do that?”

“Yes…I can, but why—"

“—Then beyond that I have only one request for you, Saturn.”

“I…yes?”

“Keep trying to find the reasoning behind Cyrus’s plots.”

“I…What? Why are you ordering me to do that? Shouldn’t you be banning me from ever even thinking about them again?”

“Because you appear to have perhaps finally realized something that Cyrus wasn’t untouchable. Good. I hope that maybe you’ll take the opportunity to think a little closer about Cyrus’s theories. If a theory is right, then it cannot be proven wrong with mere evidence. That’s what I’m ordering you do to. Prove him right the hard way so that in the end, you can look me in the eye and tell me why Cyrus was right.”

Turning on her heel, she walked back out. She’d give Saturn a few days to process this, to find new ways to misinterpret or undermine her, and then they’d do this again. Cyrus had done this to himself, as had the rest of them. They should have known better.

This was not her fault.

But it was her job, and now it was her responsibility.

There were doubts that any of them would grow or be better for her trying, but that had never stopped her before. The champion of Sinnoh must protect the region, must fight to keep it safe, and must make sure that everyone is given a chance to change.

Spring

Mars was bored. Deathly bored. So very, very, very bored.

It had been two months since the end of the world, and she still wasn’t allowed out of the base without Cynthia. And that meant that if she wanted so much as a breath of fresh air, she had to follow Cynthia to get it.

Everywhere.

And Cynthia went to so many meetings.

Okay, even in her state of profound boredom, Mars knew that one or two meetings a week wasn’t that many. But, struggling through the sludge of melting snow and mud in the dullest town to ever exist, it was hard to remember that.

Mars had refused to sit through another meeting, and Cynthia had agreed that if she stayed about the town, she could do what she wanted for the hours until her meeting with the gym leaders was over.

It was better than the meeting, but the town had nothing to do, and now Mars was dying of boredom and wondering if listening to the uppity gym leaders bicker for hours might have been more interesting than this.

Several shops mysteriously started breaks or closed when she walked over to them. Even the ice cream stand, which she’d been surprised was open at all, considering there was still snow on the ground. People would see her and hurry to walk the other way, and at least one person turned on their heel and walked back into their house upon seeing her.

It was weird, and Mars had no idea what oddness plagued this town. Neither she nor Purugly had seen anything worth hiding from.

“It’s you!”

Mars spun about at the yell, happy that anyone was here to take away her boredom, and saw a boy standing in the middle of the road with an Infernape standing behind him. The bright blond hair and vicious glare told mars he was an opponent that would be fun to fight, and she brightened.

“You!” She replied happily, squinting at the boy. “…Who are you?”

“How dare you do not remember me! I’m the amazing Barry! I fought and defeated you and Galactic and helped save the world!”

“…No, you didn’t. It was that prissy girl, Dawn.” Mars said.

“I was present,” Barry said, with a lot of conviction for someone so forgettable. “And how dare you call Dawn prissy! I mean, she is, but it's rude to say that after she defeated you!”

“Isn’t after they defeated you the best time to insult someone?” Mars replied.

“…Hm. Maybe you have a point, but that’s not important, what’s important is that you’re in town! You’re not meant to do that, right?”

“Ah! I am! Cynthia said so! She’s in a meeting, and I’m allowed to wander until she’s done.” Mars corrected smugly.

“No, no, no! Today? Ah, I’m screwed!” Barry looked deeply alarmed. “How long’s the meeting? Do I still have a chance? Please tell me it’s almost done?”

“Not even close, kid, she’s going to busy forever—Or at least until like five o’clock.”

“No, no, no, no! This is a disaster! I was depending on her, and in my darkest hour, she forsakes me! Ah, I’m so, so screwed!”

“…If it's important, you could, like, interrupt her?” Mars said, aware it was someone people could do even if she’d rather die of boredom than do that herself.

“Ehhhh…” Barry screwed up his nose. “It's important to me. Cynthia said that if I interrupted her for something that wasn’t like properly important, she’d be furious at me. I don’t want that. She’s scary when she gives you that intent look where you question if she’s about to decide that you caused a ‘problem’.”

“Ah.” Mars nodded slowly. “Understandable. I mean she said that if I interrupted her for something that wasn’t important-important then she’d put me in prison.”

Barry waved a hand at her. “Yes! Thank you! See, that’s what I was talking about! Dawn says I’m overreacting, but I say that Dawn is just powerful enough to be unthreatenable.”

“Yeah!” Mars said. “…So what did you need her for that is important, but not important-important?”

“Baseball. I need a partner, cus we’re doing the school rules, ya know. I was hoping that if I turned up with the champion, they might wave the age limit for her, or Cynthia could like…make them do that? No one else will partner with me. Dawn hates mud, and Lucus is…well, he promised me that he’d be here, but he’s not. Probably having a magical adventure without me but whatever! I’m not bitter or anything. Just got a horrible guy that I’m trying to beat to prove that I’m better than him. Nothing important that my best friends both abandoned me to deal with alone.”

“Oh! Baseball!” Mars sighed dreamily. “Ah, I remember when I got to do that. The only good thing about school was when we’d get dragged out into the cold and mud and get to fight for a victory. Saturn hated it so much, but we were so good together that they kicked us out. Good times.”

 “Huh. Didn’t take you for a sporty girl.”

“Eh. I have hidden depths,” Mars said with a shrug.

Nodding his head slowly, Barry narrowed his eyes at her. “…Say. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three,” Mars said, and she could see the wheeling turning already in Barry’s head, so she added. “But if we put up my hair in pigtails, I can pass for…say how old are you?”

“…Twelve?”

Mars considered this, but only for a moment. “I can pass for twelve. I’m short, pretty flat, and I’ve got a baby face. Or that’s why people keep asking if I’m still in school, Jupiter tells me.”

“…And you want to play baseball with me? Aren’t we like…enemies?”

“Well, Cynthia did me that I wasn’t allowed to have enemies anymore. And trust me, you definitely want me on your team. Point at the kids that you don’t like, and we’ll beat em so hard even their mum’s will be disappointed in them! I know how to play dirty. Get your Pokémon to bite the ball and crush it, and suddenly we’ll have a massive advantage! And with any luck, the poor fool refereeing the game won’t know who I am until its’ far too late for him!”

“…Isn’t that like that against the rules?” Barry asked, but it was the tone of someone already on board who only needed a littttle more coaxing.

Mars grinned and looked down at Purugly, who made a smug noise back. “Anything’s legal if you challenge the ref to a Pokémon battle and win.”

****

The monthly budget meeting with the gym leaders had taken an hour longer than Cynthia had wanted it to, but half an hour shorter than she’s planned for. Her co-workers were very predictable when it came down to it, even if she could have done without having to deal with rolling brownouts in Sunyshore City again.

Nevertheless, she was happy to find that it was still only just twilight outside, the late-season snow only still unmelted in the shadows of the buildings, leaving mud everywhere, but little ice.

She’d expected that Mars would have been waiting just outside the hall, but she was nowhere to be seen.

The town was small, only a few streets across, but there was a lot of noise from the far side of the town where the schoolhouse was, and the sports ground. It was usual for the sounds of Pokémon battles to be heard from the school, it was one of the things the teacher focused on, but it was less normal to hear this much shouting and screaming.

A sudden premonition stuck Cynthia, one she dearly hoped wasn’t true but had a crushing expectation would be, as she took the fastest route to the school.

The sports field had clearly been in use, and if the amount of mud about was any indication, it had been a vicious match.

A couple of eviscerated baseballs were on the field, and at the center of crowd of yelling kids.

Mars was battling the young assistant teacher, who’d probably thought that this evening wouldn’t involve this sort of pitched fight. Mars was wearing the same uniform as the other kids and had her hair up in tiny pigtails that were only just holding together.

She didn’t quite pass as a kid, but honestly, she fit the uniform far too well, and Cynthia was immediately suspicious about where she’d got it. This sort of shenanigans required planning.

So, when Cynthia spotted a familiar blond brat, brawling with a boy a little bigger than him, Cynthia felt no surprise.

Standing at the edge of the field, Cynthia wondered if it was too late to quietly turn about and pretend she’d never found Mars. On the other hand, someone had to save the poor assistant who’d not been prepared to fight Mars’s Purugly. He looked about to cry, and considering how Barry had got that other boy in a headlock, this looked to be a time for her Official Voice.

“What is happening here?” She said, pitching her voice to echo over the field, above the yelling and fighting like they were bare whispers.

It was a voice tested on her peers, honed on region champions, and mastered when she’d first had to start chairing meetings of Gym Leaders. It was not quite a yell, even if it held the weight of one.  You didn’t need to yell when fear would do the work of carrying her tone for her.

The field went silent, but only for about five seconds before Barry said, “They started it!”

There were, of course, always people without a self-preservation instinct.

“Did they now?” Cynthia replied.

Mars quietly flapped a hand at her Purugly until the cat backed up a little to sit at her feet, trying to look innocent. “Can confirm they did start it!” She said.

The assistant teacher’s small Shinx shimmed back to hide behind its trainer now that the Purugly wasn’t sitting on it anymore.

Cynthia noted that Mars was covered in about fifty percent more mud than anyone else. And despite the fight, despite the mud, the child’s uniform, and the fact that Cynthia was glaring at her with a look she knew could make grown men shake in their boots, Mars was grinning ear to ear.

Cynthia almost stalled there, and for a moment, wondered when she’d last seen Mars that gleefully happy about something not involving crime or violence.

“Yeah, they totally did—!” Barry started before the boy he was holding down elbowed him just under the ribcage, and Barry let go with a yelp of pain.

The boy started yelling now he was free, and Barry replied in kind. Purugly immediately tried to go help Barry, and Mars chased after her cat.

Cynthia quietly wished her meeting had gone a little longer, but alas, wishes didn’t often have that sort of effect on reality.

In the end, it took nearly an hour to get everything sorted out and for Mars and Cynthia to start the walk back to Galactic headquarters.

Barry was still following them, despite how he lived in the other direction and was as muddy as Mars was. He and Mars were apparently keen on reexperiencing the whole game play by play as they walked. Barry always had enough energy to cover for other people, but Mars seemed able to match him for pure enthusiasm.

Cynthia, after a long moment of contemplation, interrupted the flow after it had gone on long enough to give her a headache.

“Mars. You know our deal, where you may only leave Galactic headquarters with me?”

Mars stopped dead and held up a finger at Cynthia, “Hey! The sports ground was totally in the town limits. You can’t fault me for that!”

“I’m not—” Cynthia tried to correct her.

“No, no, this was my fault!” Barry interrupted, “Don’t be mad at her; I was the one who asked for help!”

“No, you didn’t! I volunteered!”

“No, it was my fault—!”

“Mine!”

“Mine!”

“Will you both be quiet!” Cynthia snapped, pushing her fingers into her forehead. “Barry! I was going to say that you’re a technical ‘good influence’, and I was going to give permission for you to act as such as long as you both agreed to this arrangement.”

Barry gave her a hopeful stare that ultimately failed to convince her that he understood what she was saying. Mars mouthed the words under her breath, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Cynthia reassessed the intelligence and vocabulary of her audience and corrected herself again. “…Mars, would you like to be able to leave galactic headquarters as long as you’re hanging out with Barry?”

Barry brightened, grinning ear to ear, as he decided to answer the question for Mars, “Oh, that’s what you were trying to say! Yes! I can! I will! Mars! This means we can do those things we were talking about! The ones you couldn’t do cus of Cynthia!”

Mars gaped, staring at Cynthia in utter shock. “Wait, you mean I get to go do fun things again if they’re with Barry? You’ll just let me do that? Really? Really, really?”

“Yes, I think that—” Cynthia began.

“YES!” Mars moved like lightning, and in a move that Cynthia was entirely unprepared for, hugged her.

Cynthia almost cursed but managed to avoid the urge even as she felt the mug soaking into her clothes.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Mars was already letting go and darting back, grinning at Barry as they started talking about what would probably end up being a headache for Cynthia later.

Checking her coat, Cynthia noted, in a distant way ,that it did now have a lot of mud on it. She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

Such it was.

She was going to regret this, but on the other hand, she didn’t think that it would be a bad thing. It would be nice to have some small and petty regrets to look forward to rather than a large and painful ones.

Late Spring

Jupiter turned the page of her poetry book and pretended to ignore Mars, who was chatting away on the other side of the mess table. Further down the table, Charon read a newspaper, staying in the public mess space only because he liked to feel included, or so he’d told her once.

Since Cyrus’s ‘death’ and the official disbandment of Galactic, the one main development in the three months had been the moderate repair work on the building. Jupiter was happy because it might be late spring, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still unpleasantly cold outside. 

The main mess hall, where they were on the third floor, was not longer open to the elements at last. The upper floors were still unlivable, but that was fine because it's not like they had enough people here to need them. Apart from a few stripes of yellow tape, they’d mostly just ignored that part of the building.

Cynthia visited very frequently, but it had become less official as time passed and now. They had something of a pattern where she’d bring her work and treat Galactic headquarters as a secondary office where she could monitor them while completing work that would have typically been done in an office anyway.

This was for their benefit, but Jupiter still had suspicions Cynthia was doing this for more personal reasons. Or would have if she’d ever seen evidence that Cynthia had a life outside of work. Or even a single friend. She must do; no one like her could be completely cut off from such things, but Jupiter had yet to see any evidence of such people, and she’d been watching for it.

Saturn was a ghost these days, keeping the couple of grunts and scientists, who’d yet to abundant the sinking ship of galactic, in order. And there was his…current research—the one where he was still trying to prove that Cyrus had been right. Jupiter didn’t know what to make of that.

She’d thought that Saturn was smart enough to move on like she was, but apparently, he was not.

Mars had gotten bored less than a month after their new ‘management’ had been appointed and started to follow Cynthia about like a lost kitten.

Or she had until she’d found her new best friend for life in the form of the one human with higher points in irritating others than her.

“—And then Barry handed me the airhorn, and that’s when the day when from good to great—” Mars continued, happy to talk as long as someone was sitting nearby.

Apparently, Barry could beat her in a Pokémon battle, had got her to join a baseball club for middle schoolers and had redirecting Mars into channelling her interest for causing problems into practical jokes instead. This was all somehow ‘good enough’ for Cynthia, as she’d given permission for the two to ‘hang out’ whenever they wanted.

Jupiter personally thought this was a great mistake and would come back to bite them, but she was aware that she was day drinking at two in the afternoon, and it wasn’t her place to comment on other people’s poor life choices.

The fact that she was essentially getting paid to do nothing and that for the first time in her life, she had both money and time, was throwing Jupiter. It wasn’t going to last, however, she was sure of that.

But until such time as life forced her to move on and find a new villain in need of a minion, she was determined to enjoy the break.

There had been a vague hope that Saturn and Mars might go with her when she found a new job, but that hope had faded when she realized that nothing would ever crack Saturn’s deluded loyalty, and Mars probably would have struggled taking orders even if they were simple and written out for her.

Sinking forward in her seat, Jupiter swirled the contents of her drink and turned another page of her poetry book.

Goodness knows what would become of them without her to keep an eye on them. Hopefully, Cynthia would keep them in one piece, but there was no way to tell how long her interest would last—

“DELIVERY!” yelled Grunt Diana, dragging a box that seemed to weigh as much as her up the stairs. “It’s from Hoenn! Who ordered a pile of bricks from a different region? I want to know because I want to submit a complaint!”

There was a pause as Jupiter eyed Mars, Mars perked up hopefully, and the doorway to Cyrus’s office opened for Saturn to stick his head out, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Open it! Open it! Open it!” Mars started chanting.

“Ah, I wonder if it’s the books I ordered?” Charon said amicably, folding his newspaper.

“No! That would be boring!” Mars waved a hand at him. “Don’t be a buzz kill, old man!”

“I just said it was bricks,” Diana said sulkily and dropped the box onto the table where it did indeed make a very un-booklike crash. “Was no one listening to me?”

Mars poked at the box, “Maybe it’s a bomb?”

Jupiter turned over another page in her poetry book. “If only we could be that lucky, the sweet call of death would never come for me that easily.”

“You’re right, it weighs too much for a bomb,” Mars replied.

Saturn stalked across the floor, waving a hand about at them all, “What is the return address on it, Grunt Diana?”

She turned over the box and let it crash against the table as she did so. “…Devon Corporation and the sender is…a Mr Stone? Anyone recognize any of those names?”

There was a long silence, and Jupiter slowly put down her book. She did know that name, and she also had a sinking suspicion why that cooperation would be sending mail to them.

Mars brightened, but her inattentive expression told Jupiter she didn’t understand the significance.

Saturn stiffened, eyeing the box like he was considering the likelihood of it containing a genuine bomb now.

Charon leaned forward, looking nearly excited, “What has the esteemed Mr Stone sent us? This should be exciting.”

Saturn set his shoulders and ignored Charon as he approached the box like it might bite.

Mars pulled a knife from a pocket that probably should not have been able to contain a knife. “Let me—”

Cutting the box open took only a moment, but the silence that followed was much, much longer.

Jupiter covered her eyes and wondered at the sort of person who’d think that was a good gift.

And what sort of person mailed a gravestone?

“—Why did some weirdo in Hoenn send us a gravestone when the boss isn’t dead? At least it’s got gold letters. That’s a nice touch, even if Cyrus’s is going to hate it.” Mars said thoughtfully.

Saturn had stopped breathing.

Jupiter half stood up, trying to intervene before Saturn did something stupid. “Saturn, maybe you should—”

“—Oh! there’s a letter!” Mars interrupted, poking said letter with her knife. “Saturn, can I—?”

“More pointless trash that has been dumped on us by useless people,” Saturn said, staring fixedly at the stone. “Extremely pointless and borderline useless. What’s the point of—”

“Letter! Can I open it!” Mars said loudly, cutting off Saturn.

“I see no reason that something that means so little should be dealt with by my most important self.” Turning on his heel, Saturn marched back towards Cyrus’s office, yelling over his shoulder, “Jupiter! Deal with that nonsense; I’ve got more important things to do!”

The door to Cyrus’s office slammed a moment later.

Mars frowned at the door and poked the letter again. “Jupiter? Does that mean I can open it?”

Jupiter snapped her fingers at Mars. “No. Give it to me, and you can read it over my shoulder. This will either be extremely depressing or extremely funny. With that man, there is no in-between.”

“Oh, that’s why the name was familiar,” Mars said, snapping her fingers. “I knew I’d heard the name Hoenn before.”

“Mm. Yes, sweetie.” Jupiter took the letter off her. It was only a few lines long and clearly in the format of an email that had been printed off the computer.

To whoever reads this:

Please take this gravestone with my compliments, with note to the fact that I’d like it back when Cyrus inevitability is found to be alive. At such time I would like you to give him my best wishes and tell him to ring me, as he’s been avoiding me again.

                Regards

                Stone

“Weird letter.” Mars mused. “Who’s Stone?”

“He owned our parent company,” Jupiter said and folded the letter into her poetry book. “I’ll hang onto this, I think.”

Give Saturn time to calm down, and then she’d give it to him for safe keeping—

There was a muffled yell from Cyrus’s office and the sound of something fragile breaking.

Mars looked towards the door with mild concern. “Should we stop Saturn from like…breaking everything again?”

“It's therapeutic,” Jupiter said and reopened her poetry book. “So, no. Let him be.”

“What do we do with the…stone?” Diana asked, standing a good few foot away from the gravestone and giving it a sideways stare.

Jupiter sighed, but Saturn had told her to take care of it.

“Put it somewhere nice. Outside, preferability, so we don’t have to see it more than we must.”

“Near that one tree, perhaps! Nature is normal in graveyards.” Charon volunteered as he reopened his newspaper and went back to reading too.

There was a slight sag from Diana. “...Does that mean I have to carry it back downstairs?”

“Do it in your own time, of course,” Jupiter replied, not looking up from her book.

There was another long sigh, and then Diana picked up the stone, staggering under the weight, and started back towards the stairs.

Mars clapped her hands together. “That was interesting! Anyway, where was I up to…Ah! Yes! So just then as we gave the trio of Aipoms the airhorns, Barry said—”

Jupiter reached for the fluted wineglass that made her feel less like she was making poor life choices and more like a disgraced movie star.

There was another loud crash from the other room that they all pretended not to hear.

They were all coping as best they could. Some of them were just dealing better than others, Jupiter thought, as she emptied her glass, and the clock ticked its way about to half-past two in the afternoon.

Summer

“Saturn’s been what?” Cynthia asked, holding a hand over her eyes.

Behind her, Lucian of the elite four pushed his glasses up his nose, staring in shock that Mars felt was a little overdramatic.

Mars clapped her hands together and schooled her expression into a more serious one.

“Okay, so I’ve maybe made it sound a little worse than it really is. And it’s not all the time. Only now and then when he’s made progress on his…writing thingy. I think it’s helping him…‘process’.” Mars said, trying out the word she’d heard Charon use to describe Saturn’s new ‘hobby’.

Mars felt emotionally compelled to defend Saturn even if she’d been mocking him for this for weeks now. But that was a privilege she earned as his sister and not something other people could do.

Even if it was extremely weird.

“This cannot be emotionally healthy,” Cynthia muttered, leaning on the edge of what had been Cyrus’s desk, and was now Saturn’s, at least until Cyrus got back from his trip to another world.

Lucian folded his arms behind his back, expression of concern turning to Cynthia as she rubbed her face. Cyrus’s office was poorly lit as it always was, but Cynthia didn’t look that well even in the dim light.

“—I had hoped that having his belief in Cyrus shattered by reality would help him become less….” Cynthia said in a slightly terse tone of voice.

“Obsessed?” Mars volunteered, a word she’d known applied to Saturn for more years than he had, something she still felt smug about.

“Yes.”

“Good luck with that! Anyway, he’s spent less time locked in Cyrus’s office, and he’s spending time outdoors! You said that he needed to find other things to do, right? So, that makes this a good thing!”

“Spending hours talking to Cyrus’s fake grave is not an improvement,” Cynthia said flatly. “I still cannot believe his father thought that an appropriate object to mail…I swear that if i ever meet this man I'm going to have a few choice words for him….”

Mars considered this comment and decided that Cynthia was probably right. “…Mm! Anyway, what’s wrong with your arm?”

Cynthia glanced down at where her arm was in a sling. “Broken.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Someone tried to take over Sinnoh. I objected. We fought. I won. They are no longer a threat. That’s why I’m late today. It took a few extra hours to mop up and convince my colleagues that I was fine to keep working.” She finished with a glare at Lucian.

Lucian sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose again. “Also, you have a mild concussion, unless you already forgot that part, Champion. She should honestly be at home resting, but—”

“I’m still aware of my limits, and I’m not about to waste time I could better use, thank you.”

There was a light sigh, and Lucian lowered his head in acknowledgement.

“Ah, okay then.” Mars squinted at Cynthia. “You sure you don’t want to like…go nap? Nothing stopping you napping and then working.”

Cynthia raised her eyebrow. “Thank you for your concern, but I have work to do, and I like to do thing in order.”

“…Cool,” Mars said, perfectly willing to not question Cynthia further and incur her wrath. “You done here then or…?”

Cynthia gave a slightly pleased smile, even if she still looked tired. “I can still type perfectly fine with one hand. But I’d like to talk to Saturn first, see what he thinks he’s doing.”

Put like that, she didn’t have a choice. There was no other option but to stalk Cynthia and find out how this was going to go. She and Jupiter had been quietly ignoring Saturn and his new hobby, and since Cynthia only visited a handful of times a week, she’d not yet got to see this.

Mars hadn’t spent much time watching Saturn because it was incredibly boring, but maybe this would be more fun!

Lucian seemed to find room for extra doubts as they approached the small grove they’d set up for Cyrus’s not-tombstone, which was rude because Mars thought it was a lovely spot. Diana had found one of the few trees in the area to put it next too and the handful of garden gnomes Mars had added really cheered the spot up!

It was a shame that the tree was small and dead, and that Mars had only found a few gnomes wearing grey, but it could have been worse.

“—However, as Professor Thales postulated in his thesis on the nature of the soul and its connection to belief, it could be argued that there is no action that might be taken that could truly destroy it, therefore—”

Saturn had been reading out these long essays to the grave for weeks now, and it was getting annoying, but despite Mars’s attempts to stop him, he’d kept doing it.

Cynthia had her hand over her eyes again, and Lucian’ seemed to be having second thoughts about something.

“Saturn, When I said you should—” Cynthia began.

“AH! Cynthia! I thought you weren’t visiting today?” Saturn started and hugged his papers to his chest as he noticed the visitors.

“I do not miss an appointment if I can help it. More importantly, why—”

“This is a perfectly valid and reasonable way to work out my dialogue with the material I’m studying!” Saturn replied sharply. “You told me to do this!”

Cynthia stared into space for a little. “…I suppose I did. And there are worse ways you could be coping. You know? Keep going. I’m going back inside.”

Saturn paused, looking a little unsure, “Ah, do you want me to give you my report now?”

Waving a hand, Cynthia shook her head, “Whenever you have time, Saturn. I’ve got four hours of paperwork to fill out after the mess of today. However, I will at least flick through the reports whenever you have the time for it.”

Lucian put his hand up, looking like he wanted to stop this, but wilted before he got far enough to speak. Mars agreed with him, as she’d rather have put her hand into a Pyroar’s mouth over telling Cynthia ‘no’.

“… Are you feeling quite well…?” Saturn asked, apparently only just noticing the sling. “You’re swaying a little—”

“Mild concussion. I am otherwise well. Return to your…business. I’ll see you when you’re done.” Cynthia said shortly, and walked off, Lucian following with his eyes turned up to the sky in despair.

Mars watched her go with concern. Saturn had also paused, narrow eyes fixed on Cynthia’s back.

“—Why didn’t you do something?” Mars asked, gesturing pointedly after Cynthia.

“What do you expect me to do?” Saturn said, already on a defensive which meant he’d been thinking the same thing.

“More than me. She said that if I annoy her in any substantive way, she’d put me in prison.”

Saturn turned a faintly bemused look on her. “Don’t you literally run about with that blond kid and commit practical jokes on people? How is that not ‘substantive irritation’?”

“Cynthia’s only ever told me not to do it to her personally, and other than that she’s never commented. I asked about her health once, and she nearly put a set of handcuffs on me. Never asking again. Has she changed in the last few years, you think? I don’t remember her being that bitchy. Or…I don’t know. Busy, I guess. She’s always working. Even when people tell her to stop.”

“Mm. Uncertain.” Saturn shook himself. “And irrelevant. She’s champion. I’m sure that she knows what she’s doing.”

“Ah, yes. This is true.” Mars nodded. “By the way, did you like the gnomes I put out here to keep Cyrus company? I keep feeling like he’s lonely and hoped this would help. It didn’t look like that distortion place was very nice. I hope he’s not bored without us to keep him company.”

“I…” Saturn looked down at the gnomes. Mars had painted frowny eyebrows on one of them so that Cyrus would feel more comfortable with them. “Yes. I think they’re…good. I’m sure Cyrus is…happy where he is, however. He chose it, after all.”

“Yeah, but we’re not there! He gets sad when we’re not around, right? Ah, our boss is dumb. I hope he comes back soon.” Mars muttered before a flash of green caught her eye.

Going up on her toes, she squinted at the high branches of the tree. There were a few green leaves now. Well, it was the beginning of summer, so it made sense, but it was still an odd surprise.

Hopefully Cyrus would like the green too.

Saturn stared at the papers in his hand, quiet, but that was normal for him.

“Hm. Think that the distortion realm has trees?” Mars asked, folding her arms. “Cus it should, but I also don’t know enough about it. I wonder what the boss is eating over there? Probably fruit. There’s always fruit when we have to camp. He’s going to hate that. We should make sure there’s something he likes for when he gets back. What do you think?”

Saturn looked…weirdly upset, but in that new quiet way that Mars didn’t know how to fix. “I…I think we should go back inside.”

“Aren’t you going to finish your argument? I always like the bit where you do Cyrus’s side of the argument.”

“…I. I don’t feel like it right now. I think…I think I’m done here.”

“Alright then,” Mars threw an arm over Saturn’s shoulder and dragged him back towards the base. “Then get your butt inside, it’s getting dark, and I’m bored!”

 Saturn let her drag him, which was odd because usually he pushed her off and tried to pretend he was all adulty. But this time, he let her pull him along without fighting.

People needed to look after each other even if they were weird and stupid.

They should probably go and covertly try and make Cynthia try and rest.

If they were lucky, there might be some leftover sleeping pills somewhere. Jupiter would often drug Saturn when he started working too hard, information which Mars would take to her grave.

But that might work on Cynthia too.

“What would be the best way to drug Cynthia you think?” Mars mused.

Saturn started nodding, only to stop halfway through as his eyebrows drew together in confusion. “…What?”

“I think water, but you can see the cloudy texture, and she’s smart enough to notice. What sort of juice does she like again? I think pineapple is good. Juice that bites back is the best sort.”

“…What?”

“Ah, we’ll figure it out. Anyway, we should probably leave it well enough alone. Cynthia might try and get revenge on us, and I’m too young to go to prison.”

“No, seriously, what are you going on about!” Saturn yelled.

Mars grinned. “Friends being dumb. Come on, maybe we can trick her into eating something healthy.”

Late summer

Jupiter slowly wrote out the poem's final line, leaning casually against Charon’s desk as she worked. Finishing with a minor flourish, she handed it over to Charon, who took it with interest.

The sound of things burning and the yelling of people trying to put out the fire continued in the background, but Charon hadn’t been very emotionally attached to that printer and was very interested in seeing what Jupiter had been writing on and off for the past month.

Besides, his lab was fireproof and taken much worse damage than Mars and Barry in its life. Worst case scenario his last assistant, Scientist Styx would probably stand up and make a mild comment at them.

The loud hiss of someone using a fire extinguisher was almost completely drowned out by the scream of someone realising that said extinguisher had a lot of force behind it.

Jupiter gave a casual glace towards the chaos and then turned away again to eye the small pocketbook she’d just handed Charon. “…I’m only doing this because you were polite.” She said shortly. “Mock it, and I’ll not show you ever again.”

“I am a man of science and will engage with it on that ground,” Charon said cheerfully.

“Good.”

Pulling his glasses down his nose, Charon inspected the neat, almost spidery thin, writing.

                I do not like the worms that crawl,

                They are not my friend,

                I do not want in my skin,

                Until I meet my end.

Charon took a moment to consider the possible inspiration and if he was still curious enough to ask.

“Very…interesting. I like the rhyme of ‘friend’ and ‘end’.” He said because it was an objective observation.

Jupiter took back the notebook solemnly. “Thank you.”

Somewhere on the floor above the lab, a door slammed open.

Charon checked his watch, “Ah! Champion Cynthia arrives at last.”

Jupiter pursed her lips. “She’s an hour late. I do hope she’s not been fight criminals this late in the day.”

Cynthia’s rapid-fire footsteps descended from the floor above and down to the central lab. She looked a little out of breath, and her steps weren’t quite as fast as usual, but she was at least uninjured, and that meant whatever held her up couldn’t have been that deadly.

“Good afternoon Jupiter, Charon. Are you aware of the fire burning just outside of your line of sight?” Cynthia asked.

Charon smiled widely. “Yes. I am.”

“There is a lot of it,” Cynthia said, a little pointedly.

Charon gave this a slow and considering nod, still not bothering to check for himself. “Yes, there is, isn’t there?”

“And there appears to be Rotom trying to murder that small child, who in turn is trying to hit it with a fire extinguisher.”

Charon’s smile didn’t entirely fade, even if it still because a little less sunny, as he took a moment to listen a little closer to the screaming and noted, yes, there were a few electronic ones among the human ones.

“Ah.” Charon clapped his hands together, “If you’d both be as kind as to excuse me a moment—”

Barry stood on a table wielding the few kilos of extinguisher with a surprising about of intent. To be fair, considering his Rotom’s personality and the fact it was currently inhabiting a handheld drill, it was likely earned. Mars was still trying to put out the fire and had resorted to jumping up and down on the printer.

Charon plucked his Rotom from the air and held onto the drill until the disgruntled Rotom stopped possessing it. “Now, do stop that, Sprite. Mars? Care to tell me why you’re trying to kill my printer?”

Mars stepped back and tried to look like she’s not been about to give the printer a kick. “I’m not killing it. I’m just…putting it to sleep. Forever.”

“I see! Why are you going that?”

“It keeps eating the paper I put in it, and I got angry.”

“Bzzt~! Of course, it did! I’d coded it so that it jammed if you so much as looked at it! Cruel! Fiend! I will destroy you for killing my favourite printer! Bzzt~!” Sprite screeched.

Charon nodded along and wondered if that was why he’d not had much of an attachment to the printer. “Fascinating. Now Sprite, we don’t murder people even if they cause problems. Remember what we do?”

“Bzzt~! We wait and get cold revenge later! Bzzt~!”

“Good boy! Now go and do something calming like refile documents on my computer and I’m sure you’ll feel better. Now—”

“Charon!” Jupiter yelled from across the lab, “Cynthia wants to know where Saturn is! Tell Cynthia where he is, please!”

Charon had been wondering until Cynthia would hear about Saturn’s newest ‘coping mechanism’. It also seemed that Jupiter really didn’t want to be the one to explain the weird things their fellow commander was doing.

Lucky Charon had no such inhibitions.

Turning from the moderately alarmed Barry, Charon called across the room, “Ah, Champion Cynthia! You will find our errant commander in his room! It’s 4 o’clock crying session.”

“…His what?”

“He read that bottling up leads to taking longer to deal with negative emotions,” Charon said. “I don’t understand the logic personally, but he’d been testing the theory regardless! Mars reported that he apparently just lines on his bed and stares at the roof, but still, his knowledge of his emotional state is progress! Usually, he schedules it for after you leave, but you were late today, and he didn’t feel like putting it off.”

Cynthia stared into space, face utterly neutral as she considered this.

Jupiter cleared her throat loudly. “Anyway, enough about the weird things that Saturn has been doing! Cynthia, I need to know if there any food you like?”

“…I’m sorry, what?” Cynthia focused on Jupiter as she tried to smoothly switch gears and failed utterly to do so.

Jupiter clicked her tongue pointedly. “This is not for tonight; I’ve already agreed to make bao buns even if I’m unsure about being able to fully replicate the flavour on such short notice with the ingredients to hand.”

“I did say that it was a passing fancy!” Charon said loudly, just in case Jupiter would be bitter at the failure and blame him. 

“No, no, I relish the chance to try because it’s going to require effort, and that makes it a worthy task!” Jupiter replied before turning back to Cynthia, who didn’t look any less confused even after the explanation. “The problem is that since I find unable to bring myself to cook something old, I must search for inspiration and unfortunately, I’m running out of ideas. So, do you have a suggestion?”

“…Mars is right over there if you—” Cynthia began, and Mars stopped jumping up and down on the printer and opened her mouth.

“No.” Jupiter held up a hand to block Mars from her line of sight. “I do not wish to make pizza again, and I’m not yet convinced that she’s aware of any other food.”

“Hey—!” Mars complained. “I do too!”

“Chocolate cake isn’t a main meal!” Jupiter yelled over.

“…Is too if you’re not a coward,” Mars muttered, and Charon gave her a commissary pat on the shoulder.

“I could offer a suggestion…?” Barry started hopefully.

“Nor nachos!” Jupiter snapped. “Now stop interrupting!”

“…Are you asking for a food I know or a food I like?” Cynthia asked, still looking oddly bemused.

“Both for preference. Your schedule is consistent as death herself, and I will make your suggestion on a day you’re present to judge my attempt. And having you present for the meal means Saturn can be easily manipulated into joining us, and I like the pretence of team bonding that creates.” Jupiter said. “Now! Cease dithering and name a dish!”

“…Carbonara?”

“Oh! A pasta dish, is it? Yes, that will work nicely.” Jupiter nodded. “Thank you for your suggestion.”

Cynthia waited a moment, apparently under the impression there might be more to the conversation, as Jupiter pulled out her notebook and made a note.

When Cynthia failed to leave, she looked back up.

“Yes? What is it?”

Cynthia almost faltered, eyebrows drawing together before she shook herself. “Ah, when will Saturn…Uh….”

“Be done staring at the roof feeling sorry for himself? About a half-hour. He’s very punctual.” Jupiter said and looked back down at her notebook.

Cynthia pressed her fingers against her forehead, and after a glance to Charon, she said, “I shall go and work until he’s done, then. I’m sure that he’ll join me when done…when he’s completed his…task?”

“I’m sure he will!” Charon said.

Cynthia sighed again, and after a moments pause, walked back up the stairs to the main mess hall, walking far slower than she’d descended them.

Barry clearly his throat loudly. “Uh. So, when you say that your Rotom will wreak vengeance on me—”

“Carry candy with you, and you will find it easy to pay him to stop,” Charon said.

“Ah, bribery.” Barry nodded. “Easy.”

“What were you trying to print anyway?” Charon asked, mildly interested as he noted the half-chewed paper still suck in the burning printer.

“Invitations to battle!” Mars crowed.

“We’re trying to get more interesting people to fit us, and if they cool, we promised to rank them. This is our own grand plan to find more people to fight us!”

Charon nodded, and the two young ones got distracted while in the background Charon heard the high whine his computer only made when Sprite was making fundamental changes to his folder layout.

Hm. Perhaps many future problems could be solved if he had two printers or a more…old fashioned printer that would take being haunted better.

An idea he’d have to dwell on in future, most likely!

Fall

Saturn knew he was dreaming the moment he saw Cyrus sitting at the edge of the cliff face.

The distance, the blue-black sky and the water that was the only moving this in the landscape only further highlighted the unreality of this dream. There was short grass in a dull green that was nothing like the browning grass currently outside headquarters.

Saturn considered distortion realm against his memory and research and gave his memory a 7/10 for effort.

Not terrible but lacking in detail and atmosphere.

It was only when Cyrus moved, raising his head to blink slowly at him, that Saturn looked back to the ghost that his mind had created.

“…Saturn?”

Saturn turned on his heel, facing away as he pushed down his discomfort at Cyrus’s shocked tone of voice and gave it a 2/10 for accuracy. The boss had been gone so long even Saturn’s brilliant memory for details couldn’t recreate Cyrus properly anymore.

“Cyrus,” Saturn said flatly, tipping his head back, refusing to give his title to something that was not his boss.

He must have fallen asleep early unintentionally.  

This meant he’d have to deal with being awake during the day tomorrow. After the awkward mess that had been a ‘diner party’ where Jupiter had browbeat everyone into sitting about a mess table for an hour, he’d intended to try and go at least two days before needing to talk to a person physically.

Trying to make small talk with Cynthia and Charon had been hell.

So if he was asleep, that meant someone had drugged him.

Again.

How troublesome.

Saturn pursed his lips as he wondered where he’d find a neutral party to test the cup or if someone would sneak in and clean it before morning and render even that idea pointless.

The light rustle of clothes jerked his attention back to Cyrus, who pushed himself to his feet, swinging about push himself up and stand.

His movements were unsteady like he’d not moved in hours, and his eyes were uncomfortably intent.

Saturn felt a pang seeing his eyes look like that. Even if it was a dream, he didn’t like that look on Cyrus’s face.

But that look wasn’t focused on him, but something that Saturn couldn’t see. Hand clenched at his side, Cyrus swung about, scanning the empty sky and endless expanse of shimmering light.

Cyrus should be untouchable and great beyond a mere mortal man. He shouldn’t look wild and like he was fighting a bitter fear chewing in his gut.

Cyrus looked painfully human in a way that he shouldn’t ever look.

“—Giratina! If it is your fault that Saturn is here—” Cyrus’s voice cracked like he’d not used it in a while.

Saturn felt his chest tighten even as he tried to harden himself. This version of Cyrus didn’t want him present, it seemed.

It must be one of those dreams.

Smoothing out his fringe, Saturn said to the dream at large, “Couldn’t you come up with a little more variety? I swear if it’s the sleeping pills doing this, I do not care if she hides behind Cynthia, I will end Jupiter.”

“Sleeping pills—you think this is a dream?” Cyrus demanded, looking oddly thrown as he swung back to stare at Saturn.

Saturn rolled his eyes. This wasn’t his real boss. There was no need to be polite to such an apparition. “Oh, forgive me. This is definitely reality. And this is going to be the fourth time this month where I get to experience this delightful reality. Spare me the theatrics and skip to the part we both know is coming.”

“What are you talking about, Saturn?” Cyrus’s voice was rough, unused, and he stumbled over the words even as they were far too curt and straightforward to be believably him.

Saturn clicked his tongue dismissively. “Oh, I know, let’s talk about how I wasn’t even good enough to die for Galactic. It’s been a few months since one of those since you last told me that. Hm. I wonder how deep the realism is going to go this time.” Saturn held up a hand and inspected it before pinching the skin on the back of it. “For all that I appear to have decent self-awareness for once, I seem to lack proper pain reflexes. Disappointing.”

Cyrus was still staring at him, face blank.

Saturn aimed a sneer at the fake and finally turned to look at him properly. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go on, tell me how happy and free you feel in this new realm of yours where you’ve remake reality so that you can escape the hell of the world I’m still stuck in. I hope so you’re happy; I really hope that…you’re happy….”

Uncertainty chewing off the last few words, even as Saturn wanted to keep snarling at this fake Cyrus. His face was tight and pale, dark marks under his eyes, and sunken cheeks were nothing new. Cyrus had looked like that for years.

But his eyes.

They looked the same as the last day they’d spoken, but also so much…emptier. Like everything had been taken out of him, wrung out, and all that was left was those shrivelled remains.

Saturn shifted, already wishing he’d not given in to that petty spite. But he knew this script, and it would end like this no matter what he did.

He might as well cut to the chase—

Cyrus started walking forward, and out of shock, Saturn took a step back, only for Cyrus to hesitate and pause in turn.

“What are you doing.” Saturn snapped, unwilling to let this apparition approach.

“I…I need to test something. Stay still.” Cyrus squared his shoulders, and for a fraction of a second, Saturn felt like he could recognise Cyrus’s face. “—I order you to stay still, Commander Saturn.”

Saturn went rigid, and didn’t move as Cyrus approached, hand outstretched.

This was…new.

Saturn didn’t like new.

The approach of the hand was oddly slow, but Saturn still flinched a little as Cyrus’s hand reached for his shoulder.

And passed through it.

They both stared as Cyrus repeated the gesture and then waved his hand through Saturn’s chest.

Cyrus’s shoulders dropped, and he pushed his hands into his pockets, a gesture that almost made it look like he was hiding them away. “…You are right, I suspect.”

“About what?”

“You’re dreaming. This is probably another part of my punishment here. Typical. Of course. The old dragon likes to make sure I’m always aware of how alone I am. Bloody typical. This is probably that other one’s work. The pink one. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted it to touch me. However, as long as you can wake up this will be fine, as long as you aren’t trapped here with me—”

Cyrus was circling him now, eyes narrow. Saturn stayed very still, tracking the movement but not even moving his head.

“—Perhaps you’re a hallucination. Can’t imagine you’d feel the need to question your existence if you were, but it would be odd if you’d just accepted this without question, considering your personality….”

“Why would I be a hallucination.” Saturn snapped. “I cannot imagine that you would find it in yourself to go about imagining me when you clearly don’t want me here in the first place.”

Cyrus went still.

Saturn sniffed and tilted back his nose. “This is one of the worst attempts of my mind to conjure you in months. Sloppy. You’re not even coherent. My boss would never act like this. He was always certain in everything he did. Not this unsure wreck that you seem to be.”

The low laugh startled Saturn enough to break his train of thought. Cyrus was dragging a hand over his eyes, laughter shaking his chest, and when Saturn finally met his eyes again, they were so much deader than he’d expected them to be.

“Your boss was one of the stupidest men in the world. Who thought he could change the unchangeable. It's probably for the best that you seem to think me a heartless bastard, because you are likely correct. I am. But I was also wrong. The one thing to say in my defence was something I didn’t even intend, even if I’m deeply grateful for it. Because at least I’m the one paying for this. Not you.”

“I’m not paying for this!? Do you have any idea what the last year has been like for me? Any at all? I’ve spent months trying to protect your name and reputation! Trying to prove you didn’t intend to destroy the world! I spent every waking moment going through your theories, your notes, everything that got you to that other world, and I did it for also a year! I now answer to Cynthia of all people! I am a prisoner in my own home, unable to leave without her permission, unable to act without asking, unable to think without hearing how I’m wrong! Everyone in the world has told me that you’re wrong, and I’m not about to listen to it from you too! Shut up, you useless and stupid apparition; you will never convince me to doubt Cyrus!”

Cyrus’s eye twitched, lifting the edge of his mouth in a sneer. “Too bad. Because I was wrong. And better to be a prisoner in reality than in here.”

Saturn clenched his hands into fists. “It seems that somehow my brain has created you in your most arrogant and annoying iteration with an extra helping of stupidity!”

“Then wake up and leave. You can do it any time you want, remember.”

“Nothing is going to make me leave, even if you tell me to go, push me away; I’m not leaving.” Saturn drew himself up to attention. “Until the end and pass it, the world will be remade, and it will be made better until that dark heart of darkness is burned out with the pure light of the new world. And no ghost of my own doubts will ever convince me to give up on my boss!”

“For the sake of idiocy—Sure! Whatever, I don’t care. Stay! Do whatever you want. You’re going to wake up, and then I’m going to be alone again, and none of this is going to matter for more than a few….” Cyrus froze, and suddenly intensely, he was staring at Saturn again, eyes widening as some of that wild energy bubbling below the surface.

“What now, apparition?”

“—Did you say it’s been a year?”

Saturn faltered, unsure what that tone of voice meant or if he should respond to it but gave a short nod anyway. Cyrus’s eyes tracked his face again, but this time Saturn could feel his skin prickling under that look.

“…Your hair is longer.” Cyrus stepped nearer and brushed a hand in the air near Saturn’s ear.

Saturn’s breath almost caught, and again, for a second, he almost recognised Cyrus in this fake version. But the way that Cyrus was leaning in, looking like he’d be touching if he could, staring so wistfully was alien. This was something he’d also only seen in dreams, not ones like this.

There was a wire crossed here. This whole dream was a mess—

“I…I missed a year. A whole year. Ha. Hahaha—”

This laugh was manic but sounded like it was scraping Cyrus’s throat unnaturally. Saturn stiffened, fighting the urge to step back but unable to do it. It was unlike what Cyrus should be, but not impossible.

“A year! And here I thought it should have been ten. Only a year. Only a year. And here I am, still as I arrived. Without eating, drinking, or breath in my lungs, I live. I believe that I was wrong, Saturn, not because I didn’t find what I was searching for, but because I found it. I found it, and it is hell.”

“…Isn’t this the distortion realm,” Saturn said, because he was a pedantic nerd at heart and he really didn’t know how else to deal with this.

Cyrus took a step back with an almost stumble as he rubbed his face, waving a hand vaguely at Saturn. “Go talk to Cynthia if you want to argue about pointless things. If you’re working for her, then I’m sure she’d be dighted to speak to you about it. She could probably give a fifty-page essay on why this isn’t the afterlife, underworld or hell, if you care about that. And you are probably real because that was such a useless reply to a question of my own damnation.”

“What’s that mean.”

“You only resort to stating the obvious when upset, and…I don’t dream here. Or sleep. Which means…something. You might be a simple hallucination…But I somehow doubt it. I’m uncertain what this means for you, but…I…I really didn’t expect to ever see you again, Saturn. Even if it’s a hallucination…It’s good to see your face again.” Cyrus’s voice was soft, even as his eyes looked dead as always.

“—You told me not to look for you. To leave you here. It’s the only reason I’ve not tried to find you.” Saturn said, softly too, in case talking loudly would startle Cyrus out of this mood.

Cyrus missing him…well, maybe this dream wasn’t all bad. It wasn’t often he got to hear what he craved.

A slight flash of surprise crossed Cyrus’s face. “And you obeyed?”

“…Yes.”

“Good.”

The cracks that had been festering for months opened with the speed and the violence of an earthquake. If Saturn had been able to touch this cursed version of Cyrus, he might have tried to hit him for that reply.

“Why didn’t you let me follow you?!”

“I…” Cyrus blinked, looking thrown like he’d never even considered it. “I…”

“I was good and brilliant and kept Galactic functioning, I kept you functioning even when you didn’t want to live, and I tried so so hard to see that we’d change the world—Why did you not want me there in your new world? Why did you leave me to try and justify your mistakes when I can’t do that! I’ve got nothing, Cyrus! Nothing! You left me behind!”

Saturn felt his face burning and wished he’d been able to figure out how to cry.

Maybe then the things stuck inside him could go away, and these endless dreams would just stop. The demon’s that haunted him were so very many, the doubts had destroyed everything he’d ever believed in and the one person that he’d built his life about was gone and left him to argue endlessly with the memories in his own mind.

“—I’m alone, and I have to keep going despite that, and I don’t want to be alone anymore! But I don’t have a choice because you left me behind! How do I change humanity without you?!”

Cyrus took a sharp step forward, close enough to force Saturn to look up at him. “You don’t. I told you I was wrong. I can’t change anything. Give up on humanity. You’re alive. You can breathe and eat and feel. You’ll…you’ll age.” An odd smile appeared on Cyrus’s face, and he said softly, almost like he didn’t realise Saturn could hear, “—I wonder what you’d look like with grey hair.”

Saturn wanted to hit Cyrus so much it hurt.

The energy was gone from Cyrus and replaced by a distant sort of deadness, even as his eyes still traced out Saturn’s face again like he might have forgotten it.

“It is good to hear your voice again, , even if you’re here to make me relive every mistake I’ve ever made. I’d even give a limb to hear Mars scream at me again. How far have I fallen to want to hear even that troublesome child at her worse? Or even Cynthia’s cold voice…though I’m pretty sure she’d not care to hear mine…What are they doing? Tell me what Mars has been doing in this past year.”

Saturn took a moment to realise that was a question and dragged himself together to give report. The hunger in Cyrus’s face was genuine and almost enough to quash the emptiness behind his eyes. After a lifetime of treating his emotions like tools, Saturn was as adept at pushing down his emotions as Cyrus seemed to be at ignoring them.

“Mars has taken up with the child Barry, in…I’m not entirely sure what, but might be a prank war with another gang of children.”

Cyrus pressed his fingers into his eye, but to Saturn’s shock, it looked like he was almost smiling. “Of course she is. Jupiter?”

“…She’s taken up writing…Poetry. And drinking. But the poetry is much worse.” Saturn tried to imply his opinions of that without having to state them.

“Has she.” Cyrus hummed.

“Mm.” Saturn let the noise stand-in for the things he was too polite to say. “Charon is working for Cynthia.”

“…He’s what?”

“He claims she’s paying him to have morals.”

“And that worked?”

“Yes,” Saturn said, and let the doubt speak for itself.

“Ha…” Cyrus tilted his head back like he was trying to bask in the sun, but the air was dead, and there wasn’t any temperature that Saturn could feel. “…And yourself?”

Eight months of talking to Cyrus’s many ghosts so much that even he was sick of it. Of trying to prove the bedrock of his life true, of the terrible crumbling regret as he realised, piece by broken piece, that he couldn’t do it and that he might never have been right at all.

Left staring at a world he hated, with the crushing need to change it, the burning belief that someone should act, that destruction never cost as much as it would be worth when made anew.

With the worth of his soul on the line, and the burning eyes of Cyrus on the back of his neck. Glaring and demanding he do better. But also unwilling to let Saturn see what it was he was trying to build.

Month upon month of feeling his belief crack.

A year of missing someone who had meant more then his own life but who’d still told him he wasn’t wanted at the very end.

A year where there was nothing to motivate him to get up and one where he’d had to do it regardless. Where even this version of Cyrus, one who cared enough to ask how he was, still told him that he was useless for having believed at all.

“I…I’ve done nothing,” Saturn said, and his voice was tight in his throat. “Nothing at all.”

“…What a coincidence,” Cyrus said and closed his eyes against an imagined sun. “That’s what I’ve been doing too.”

****

Saturn woke.

He took several minutes to just lie there, staring at the roof that had been covered in glow in the dark stars.

He was in bed, covers up to his chin despite the fact he should have been at his desk. He numbly added it to the pile of evidence that he’d been drugged, but he didn’t have the energy to really care about it.

He’d never thought about how Cyrus could have got every he wanted and still not found what he’d wanted.

In the background, his desktop hummed in sleep mode, lights from the box soft as nightlights. There was a chill to the air that spoke to winter that would be here soon.

Cyrus had been gone a year, yesterday.

Saturn jerked upright, hand to his chest.

The next breath he took was shaking, and Saturn clenched his hand, crinkling the uniform that he should have changed yesterday. He had the food budget to balance today, and…

There wasn’t anything else.

He’d been planning to go online and see if anyone in his guild players was online. There wasn’t a lot else to do these days. Go play games, wait for Cynthia to visit and give him something useless but still vaguely important to do. To…dither. To try not to think about the vast gaping awareness of the futility of the world, of the uncaring reality. The one full of evil people that smiled and said they were good.

It had been summer when he’d given up trying to understand.

The cool edge of autumn meant he’d had to put the thicker blankets on his bed last week.

It had been a year.

He’d…given up….

Cyrus had said he felt like he was damned.

Saturn wanted it too to be real, almost as much as he wanted it not to be.

Because if it was true…If it was true, then they needed to get Cyrus back. It didn’t matter what happened afterwards. If he was wrong, Cyrus could just tell him to leave again. Or if Cyrus if wouldn’t leave, maybe Saturn could stay in that endless dead realm with him.

It didn’t matter which it was as long as this endless misery ended.

Sliding his feet to the floor, Saturn felt the first burst of energy that he’d felt in a very long time.

If the boss was wrong, then that meant he didn’t have to obey.

He could get Cyrus back.

He was going to get Cyrus back, even if he had to do it on his own, and no matter what the cost would be.

****

Cynthia resisted the urge to sigh, but it was a near thing.

The office looked terrible, with so many papers strewn across the floor that it was hard to see it.

Saturn looked manic, on the edge of unhinged, but he also looked focused and determined in a way that hadn’t been present for months now.

“…Let me see if I understand. You had a dream, decided that Cyrus might be unhappy in the distortion realm, and decided to act on this dream and create a new portal to that realm with the express purpose of…what? Visiting?”

“Of either returning him to reality, joining him in that realm, or dying trying to succeed.” Saturn folded his arms. “You told me to find a hobby.”

Cynthia quietly considered the chances she’d be able to stop this. It was…unlikely. Certainly, she could physically stop Saturn, take away the resources he’d need, remove the items or people he’d need, or even sabotage this behind the scenes.

She could even give up on him as a lost cause. Saturn was never going to listen to anything she said, and now that Cyrus wasn’t here to give order’s Saturn was making them up himself. That was probably a sign she should perhaps give more weight to Lucian’s suggestion that she commit Saturn to a mental institution, or at least get him a therapist that he couldn’t just drive off.

She had a slight suspicion this was less motivated by the desire to ‘save’ Cyrus and more an extension of Saturn’s attempt to not have to do the brutal self-examination that she’d been trying to push him towards.

He was still trying to pretend that he didn’t have to think about what he meant if he’d been wrong. This was just the worst stage of denial.

But…If this was done sensibly, without endangering anyone and under the suspicion of at least one trusted engineer who Saturn would be unable to threaten or manipulate…

Cynthia tapped her fingers against the back of her wrist. “Do you intend to reuse your previous methods, or do you plan to do this without torturing Pokémon?”

That got a twitch that meant that he had already considered that. “I…No. Definitely not.”

Cynthia quietly decided that this theoretical engineer would need to be able to see through Saturn’s lies too.

“—If I give you access to the small surplus of resources that is in Galactic’s accounts…Mm. And you already have the labs and equipment…” Cynthia mused slowly.

She would have to put some thought into the logistics and make sure that they didn’t end up throwing good money after bad. Manageable if the accounts that Saturn kept were honest. She’d start by double-checking, and if he proved to be trustworthy, she’d let him take complete control with moderate oversight.

“—And I’ll put a supervisor in place to check the plans you make. I think that I’ve already got someone in mind, but I’ll have to double-check that, but I’m confident that he’ll agree to oversee this. He’s been bored and if this helps I’ll have solved two problems. I suspect that you’ll want Charon to help you, which is acceptable. I’ve not had a project for him in a few months, and I suspect he’d relish this challenge. I’ll no doubt have to emphasise the ethical oversights that he made last time, and how he’s not to repeat them, but—”

“Wait, wait, wait—You’re letting me do this? I—Why are you helping me?!”

Cynthia folded her arms. “…Because the only way to stop you from doing this was probably locking you up. If you’re going to do this, then I’d prefer to oversee it myself. I will be honest and say that I think that Cyrus is dead or unfindable, but you’re hardly about to let that stop you.”

“But…why are you helping me?”

Cynthia bit down on the response of ‘because I suspect if I let you do as you will without me helping, you’re going to die’.

You’d have to be blind or willfully ignorant to not be able to tell that Saturn was unstable. If he died doing this, rushing foolishly forward as he refused to think about the consequences, it would be another pointless waste. They weren’t friends, co-workers or even acquaintances. They were probably mildly antagonistic foes.

But every life had value, even if the person in question disagreed.

Cynthia turned her attention to the documents. “If we can get Cyrus back, it would be good because I have some choice words for him and this way, I’ll be able to make sure he perhaps doesn’t try and destroy the world again. And if he’s dead, we’ll bury him properly and somewhere nowhere near that ridiculous gravestone his father sent. Now you’ve clearly started working on this, so talk me through your thought process here, and then we’ll figure out the next step. Also? Are you going to working as my assistant still? I don’t care if you do or don’t, but I’ll need to reschedule so that I can still get everything done if I’m to go back to working alone again.”

There was a short gap of silence, where Cynthia was almost too caught up in mentally trying to reorganise her schedule to notice that Saturn hadn’t responded yet.

Looking up, she waited to see what new problems Saturn was about to voice, to complain over or objection.

She’d been entirely unprepared to see tears dripping off Saturn’s chin.

“I…” Cynthia hadn’t expected anything but uncooperative malice for the help she was inflicting on him. She almost stepped back, as Saturn sunk his head forwards, gripping onto the edge of the table with white knuckles.

Then Saturn raised his head, cheeks wet and smile weak.

“Thank you,” Saturn’s said, voice cracking.

“I…” Cynthia breathed out and felt herself soften a little in turn too. “…You’re welcome. You’re not doing this alone. Even if this is a damned silly thing…I’m still going to be here.”

Saturn brushed a hand over his face and looked a little surprised when it came away wet. “I…Yes. We’ll get him back…Together?”

Never promise the impossible, but that didn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Maybe she’d be able to get Saturn to see the light.

Maybe this was already a sunk cost.

But that never meant that it wasn’t worth trying.

“If we can, we will.”