DARWIN

Monday, March 26, 2018

"An abandoned ship?" Thomas repeated.

"The Abandoned Ship," I said, shifting my bookbag in my lap. "It's a regional preserve for aquatic Pokémon, about fifty miles off the coast of Petalburg City. It's like the Water Safari, apparently — you can catch Pokémon there, but for way cheaper, and during off season too."

"Great. What's that got to do with me?"

I shifted uncomfortably, and Grandpa Jon leaned over and said, "Join us, Thomas. I'll pay the fee for the ferry, and your scuba gear."

Thomas swore under his breath, and I felt guilty, and not just because I'd forgotten to tell him that Grandpa Jon was on the call. He was also on speaker phone — sure, the outgoing bus taking us back to Petalburg City was semi-empty, and the few passengers there were had in headphones or were otherwise preoccupied, but I hated being that asshole. Still, it was the only way for both me and Grandpa Jon to talk to Thomas at the same time.

I made a mental note to take Thomas up on his advice, and investigate upgrading to a phone that had a headphone jack.

"I'm not interested in you taking me anywhere else ever again, old man," Thomas hissed. "I'm not spending another two days in quarantine when I accidentally discover the fairy kingdom or the existence of vampires."

I winced, and Grandpa Jon took a furtive breath. "Thomas, I've already apologized for that many times," he said calmly. "And trust me, my intentions are innocent. I want you to accompany us to help the both of you settle into your new...extracurricular activities."

"That so?" Thomas growled.

"Indeed. You heard Mr. Munoz when you did the paperwork, didn't you? Joining our organization entails more than simply signing your name and saying you'll do it. There are requirements."

"F*ck you, and your requirements. I didn't sign up for this sh*t."

"I'm aware," Grandpa Jon said tiredly. "But the deed is done, and now you must comply."

"Or else?"

"Berechiah."

A chill went through the silence that followed, and I almost wanted to laugh — me, Thomas, falling silent at the name of a guy — a...merman — who I'd last seen wearing a polka-dot turtleneck and cowboy boots. But there it was, and that made the whole thing even more hysterical.

"Having said that," my grandfather continued, "this is a good opportunity for you to accrue some volunteer hours with the organization. That would look good on a resume. And you get to go to a new place, see new things, do a bit of summer traveling. I would say the good outweighs the bad here, wouldn't you?"

We waited for a response and got none — after a shocked second I realized that Thomas had hung up. "Sorry," I muttered, "I'll call him back." And I did, twice, but no response. "Sorry," I said again.

"Don't be, son." Grandpa Jon leaned back, fingers tapping against his cane — I noticed he had three rings on today: a wedding band, a graduation ring, and another one that had a blue-green gem set in the middle. "I expected this, and I don't fault him for it. He's having a hell of a time, the both of you are."

He had no idea. "He'll come around," I said, but even I sounded unconvinced. I was sure that Thomas had made peace with this sh*tty situation today at lunch, yet over the phone he'd sounded hugely pissed off. The guy was a seesaw.

He gave me a sidelong glance. "And you?" he asked softly.

I shrugged. I felt much calmer now that I was out of the suffocating confines of school, talking with him about things that mattered, and things were becoming clearer: No choice. Life was picking up speed, and I had to hang on or else be thrown off, queasy as it made me.

So far, though, I was succeeding, and not scraping the bottom like Thomas — it was probably because while a lot was going wrong, a lot was also going right. I was still at RTHS. I finally had a way to get rid of Sharp— Magdalene. And I wasn't crazy — mermaids existed, and there was an organization of people out there that knew it. All things considered, I had reason to celebrate the way things had gone.

Maybe that was also why I wasn't nearly so furious at Grandpa Jon as Thomas was. I did still resent him for the quarantine thing, but full-blown rage was just a waste of time at this point.

"What did you mean when you said volunteer work?" I asked.

"Ah yes." Grandpa Jon gazed out the opposing wall of windows, where the highway was rushing by as we left Rustboro behind. "The Society has a partnership with the agency that maintains the Abandoned Ship: the WorldWaters Foundation. They're also a marine conservancy group, but much bigger than us. We pool our resources to pursue different projects: reef restoration, beach cleanups, those sorts of things. Unfortunately, their nearest office is in Slateport, and so because we're a little more widespread and mobile, we volunteer at many of their regional reserves."

"And so you want me to—"

"Yes. The ultimate goal will be securing you a replacement Pokémon, but on the way it'll be good for you to get stuck right in it, meet some of our staff, knock out a few volunteer hours."

"How many to do I have to do to stave off the threat of brain damage?"

Grandpa Jon searched my face, probably wondering if I was joking. I wasn't sure if I was. "New members of the Society are typically tasked to work at least seventy-five hours a year. But that was back in my heyday — I'm a little estranged from the Society nowadays, now that I've retired."

Retire from the Seawatchers? I frowned, wondering about that. Retirement meant estrangement, to use his earlier word, and wasn't that dangerous? What would happen if Grandpa Jon suddenly decided to blab about the merfolk to a random Joe on the street? Or was he subject to the same compulsion Berechiah had planted in me and Thomas?

"Do you still have to volunteer?" I asked.

"Yes, but much less than you youngsters: twenty hours a year. I also attend the monthly gatherings with the rest of the upper management."

I fiddled with my phone, turning it over in my palms. "What kinds of things do you guys do at the Abandoned Ship?"

"It depends, but mainly tours around the island facility and presentations on the ferry ride over. Likely you'll be drafted to help out in the latter. Lyle spoke to me about having you hand out pamphlets."

That didn't excite me in the least — I was terrible in front of a crowd. "Isn't there... Anything else I can do?"

Grandpa Jon gave me an empathetic smile. "Hold your nose for fifteen minutes and it'll be over before you know it, son. Hopefully that'll be the only time you'll have to do it. You'll get a more comprehensive list of our other volunteer activities when you and Thomas attend orientation."

Orientation? I liked the sound of that even less than I did doing a presentation on a ferry. Orientation meant meeting people, having to socialize, maybe even smiling and pretending you were enjoying yourself, and I was out of practice with all three.

Looked like I didn't have a choice though — like Grandpa Jon said, I was going to have to hold my breath and dig my way through it... Else I might look over my shoulder and see Berechiah coming after me.

***

Thirty minutes later, the inter-city bus pulled to a halt on a two lane road along the shoulder of a giant cotton field, and Grandpa Jon and I disembarked. It was quiet after the bus left—I could hear little save for the calls of flying-types and a tepid breeze brushing down over the cropland. In the distance was a smudge of green — the woodland where Grandpa Jon's neighborhood was sprinkled among the pines.

It was a fifteen minute walk, and despite having built a bit of endurance in Combat II, I was still fit to collapse when we finally reached the house — I was in navy-blue slacks, socks, and tennis shoes, and my body couldn't stand not having a proper outlet for the heat. Grandpa Jon was sweating pretty profusely too when we finally picked our way down to the dirt drive — we really were of the same blood.

When we reached the top of the hill, Quincy came to greet us, slithering from a dark hole underneath the porch. Grandpa Jon frowned at the Arbok as he curled around my legs, and fumbled with his porch keys.

"Does he have a Pokéball?" he asked me.

I peered down at Quincy, raising a brow. "I dunno... I think so, but Mom never uses it."

"Hmm." He unlocked the screen, and I held it open for him as he worked on the house door.

"He doesn't bite," I assured him. Quincy didn't do much of anything anymore, except walk me home from school and take up space.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Grandpa Jon muttered. "Not really. Just... Does he get along with other Pokémon?"

"I don't know." We hadn't owned any Pokémon other than Quincy for as long as I could remember. I blinked. "Do you have any Pokémon, Grandpa?"

"Just one. Sweet Peeko. She's a Peliper."

I remembered the Wingulls that had squawked at me and Thomas when we'd first come to the house last weekend and peered up at the roof of the porch. Empty. "She's out at sea visiting family," Grandpa Jon told me. "She left about four weeks ago, and should be due back any day now."

"Quincy will play nice," I assured him. I glanced down at the old Arbok. "Right?"

Quincy's answer was a massive yawn that could've swallowed my head whole; Grandpa Jon finally got the door open, and the Arbok was the first one in, hissing out a greeting before sliding across the floor to Mom; she was sitting on one of the big couches in the living room, with her feet propped up on the coffee table. Open boxes were stacked around her — looked like she hadn't finished unpacking yet. I stepped in and lowered my bookbag to the floor; Grandpa Jon closed the door behind him and hung the keys on a coat rack standing beside a nearby bookcase.

Then he stiffened. "Is that my laptop?" he asked.

Mom did indeed have a laptop sitting atop her legs — the screen turned her face snow-white, while it shifted her hair into a roasted-chestnut kind of color.

"I'm borrowing it for ten minutes," she said without looking up.

Grandpa Jon's brow furrowed, and I stiffened — suddenly, the air in the parlor was feeling a little dangerous. "You took it out of the drawer in my room?"

"You left it on the armchair," Mom said as Quincy climbed onto the couch beside her; he laid his head down on the arm and was quickly asleep. "I needed it: work."

"I understand," my grandfather said testily. "But ask next time. I shouldn't have to tell you that: are you a child?"

Mom said nothing; Grandpa Jon took a breath, headed towards the kitchen. "Has anyone thought about what they want for dinner?" he asked. "I have pot pies in here, and some fixings for stir fry."

Mom, again, said nothing; tentatively, I said, "I could do with stir fry."

"I already made beef stew," Mom said, her fingers tapping at the computer keys. "It's in the fridge."

I glanced back towards the kitchen, but there was no response, save for the clatter of dishware as Grandpa Jon turned over the dirty dishes in the sink. With a flash of annoyance, I went over to Mom and peered down at the laptop.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Emails."

"Not that. This." I tapped the top of the computer. "That seemed kind of rude, going into his room and taking his stuff, don't you think?"

"It was either that or miss the Zoom meeting the department had earlier today. Those are mandatory."

"So you used it for more than ten minutes?"

"Shut up. Do you want me to lose my job?"

I threw up my hands. "Mom," I said.

She spared me a look, and I inspected her eyes. Yep, she had that look, that reckless look, the one she usually wore when she was ginned up and looking for a fight. It occurred to me that this wasn't my first time seeing it — she'd been wearing it yesterday too. And over the weekend. Hell, it had probably been there since the fiasco with the Great Ball. Taking a breath, I sat down beside her, squeezing in between her and Quincy and leaned into her side.

"Aren't we supposed to be making the best of a bad situation?" I said lowly.

"Don't start. I've got sh*t to do, and I'm making sure it gets done."

"Okay, but can you do it in a way that doesn't look like you're trying to pick a fight with Grandpa? I don't want to come home to a battlefield every day."

"And you won't. Thanks to our little move, I'll be working late shifts all next week."

I swallowed a lump of guilt. "I meant in general. Like, when you two are in the same room—"

"Darwin." She spoke in a voice that told me to shut up. So I gave up—clearly, this topic wasn't open for discussion just yet. There was more important news anyway.

"Mom," I said before she could fully refocus on her admin stuff, "something's happened with my Sharpedo."

"Sharpedo?" she muttered, rubbing at her brow. She blinked a couple of times, then groaned. "That's right, you did catch... That was you? In this lifetime?"

"This lifetime."

"Arceus. What is it? Has it hurt someone?" She suddenly swiveled around and gave me a thorough inspection, almost as if she'd realized that she'd forgotten to check me for bite marks every day.

"I'm fine," I said. "But I met with Principal Reyes today, and we talked about a way to replace it with a safer Pokémon."

I explained, in very general terms, how the meeting had gone over — I didn't mention the Seawatchers, Grandpa Jon, or Nero being present, because I wasn't quite sure of what she'd make of that, and told her that Grandpa Jon had come up with a plan to help me replace Sharpedo a few minutes before we'd come through the door.

"He says we can find a good water-type Pokémon at the Abandoned Ship," I told her. "Some people from his organization volunteer there, and—"

"You mean from the Society?" she interrupted.

I faltered — suddenly the computer was all but forgotten, and Mom was staring at me with pupils like pinpoints, her skin pulling tight across her face, her jaw locked so hard her molars must've been grinding together. I wanted to lean back — I did a little, stunned by her sudden intensity, but more stunned that she'd spoken of the Society.

"Yeah... The Hoenn Society for Marine Conservationists," I stammered. "Right?" I blinked rapidly, amazement rising up through my chest. "Mom, you know who they are?"

"Yes, I know who they f*cking are," she said, her voice coming out raspy. "He's still with them?"

"Yes." I tried to interpret the strangled sound of her voice. What does that mean? Did she know that they were otherwise known as the Seawatchers? And if she did, did she know about the merfolk? I opened my mouth, the question poised at the tip of my tongue... And then my hand dug compulsively into my pocket for my phone.

Call me, Darwin, just call me, Berechiah whispered.

I shut my mouth, my teeth gritting. No, she wasn't a Seawatcher — if she was, Berechiah wouldn't be rising up, telling me to shut my mouth. Then what did she know about the Society? And why did she suddenly look extremely pissed off? She'd gotten up, fingers combing through her thick hair, and shot a glare towards the kitchen, where Grandpa was still cleaning stuff.

"What is it?" I asked, suddenly queasy with anxiety. "Mom." She stopped. "What's wrong?"

She turned and stared at me, stared through me — what she saw, I could only guess, but a bizarre smile suddenly came to her face, completely out of place.

"I don't know," she said.

And she said nothing more about it.

***

NERO

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

A couple of days later, Jude began to feel feverish, and right on time.

It was enormously relieving to wake up to him squirming in the middle of the night, and feel that familiar return-to-the-ocean warmth stirring beneath his forehead. Even more pleasing was going to breakfast that morning and seeing that the rest of the kids on Drought were experiencing the same uncomfortable symptoms. It was a sure sign that Jude's body hadn't forgotten how to function, despite being subjected to such severe trauma in the past.

Or so I thought — it took him more than a day to ease back into his seaside form. Part of me wondered if the struggle was psychological more than physiological in nature — when they were ready, the Seawatchers brought all the kids back to the sauna, which had been transformed into a cold bath filled with icy water, and like last time, Jude seemed to have some stage fright when he took off his T-shirt and shorts and went in with just a towel around his skinny waist. I was pretty sure any attention he was getting was all in his head, though — Dinah and the rest of the merkids seemed more occupied with withstanding the biting cold water than gawking at his scars.

But whatever the case, we had to stay over another night, and when we tried again the next day, the bath house was mostly empty, save for a Delphiri mother coaching her young daughter back into seaside form.

Even then, it took several hours to coax Jude's tailfin out of the ether — it was almost like his body was resisting the change. But when it finally happened, his face was beet-red, and he churned out heat like a furnace. It made me wonder how bad the fever could get before the body gave up and fell into the fin.

"Be careful on your way back," Hannah told us as Jude stuck his arms tiredly back into his navy blue robes. "You're going to Delphirius, right? The news said there might be showers at sea today, and strong winds."

Yep, Jude and I missed Luna the Wailord, which meant we had to hike back to Delphirius by fin. But that was fine with me — I was a little wound up over the developments over the past few days, and a good speed-swim would help me churn it out.

And plan.

Though not much, because I already knew what the plan was: The Abandoned Ship, I thought as I wound Jude's arms around my neck and pushed into open ocean. It was a half-submerged wreck not far from Delphirius; Briney, Lyle, and a few other Seawatchers had made arrangements to volunteer there with other conservationists over the weekend, and bring Darwin along for a Pokémon-catching expedition. The square-shouldered, silver-haired man behind that huge desk, the one who appeared to be in charge, had given their plan the go-ahead, and now it was simply a matter of waiting for them to complete the task, and for Simeon to find me and tell me that Magdalene was right outside waiting for me.

The idea gave me the strange urge to laugh, though, because it wasn't funny. In fact, the idea was slightly upsetting, because if only I resided in a universe where things generally went my way. Alas, I didn't — in this cosmos, Arceus didn't particularly like Nero, and went to great pains to inconvenience him at every turn, or so the last couple of weeks — last couple of years — had shown me.

No, I was almost certain that something was going to crop up at the last minute, something like Simeon coming up to me not with Magdalene, but with bad news and excuses: Well, yes, they went, and I don't know what happened exactly, but Darwin wasn't able to catch a Pokémon... But don't panic, they're going to try again next weekend, all right?

The scenario was so clear and felt so...inevitable that a real fury began to burn in the base of my stomach, working its way up through my sternum until my jaw was so tight that my teeth threatened to break. Of course. Of course he would bungle the job when it's so close to being over. For a moment, I was so convinced that it would happen that part of me believed that it had already happened; like that deep, angry part of my mind could see the future, and I was simply waiting for the disappointing news.

No! No more delays. No more excuses. I wouldn't let the cosmos belabor this...thing with Madgalene and Darwin any longer, even with Arceus's heel behind it. So I thought, How can I prevent that from happening?

I spent the rest of the journey to Delphirius plotting, and by the time Jude pointed out the Delphiri Seamount and its kelp forest in the distance, I had an idea, one that I was comfortable with, and hopefully wouldn't land me back in a seat in Ms. Gray's office.

We moved over the seaweed and approached a stony outcrop jutting out of the Delphiri Seamount. Figures swarmed the surface: mermen in ill-fitting armor, one of which appeared to be Aaron, of Delphirius's sentries. I didn't conceal my approach, but they all jerked to attention when my shadow fell over them, as though I'd appeared by Teleportation. The sight brought a bitter taste to my mouth, and almost a humorless smile — I could scarcely imagine how Titus would have reacted to seeing them so unfocused and out of formation.

Certainly he would've been infuriated that they were playing around with toy swords: there was a spiky-haired merboy with them, holding up a rusty piece of rebar against Aaron's homemade spear; the merman quickly brought it back to his side when he saw me looking, his cheeks reddening.

"Ahoy," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nero, right? Been expectin' ye."

I stiffened, not sure if I liked that this guy knew my name. "Why?"

"Had it from Kuma that ye missed Luna. Told us to keep an eye peeled for ye." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm ta point ye down to the Manor."

"What's at the Manor?"

Aaron frowned. "That which ain't my business. I don't ask Kuma questions, boy, just do what I'm told."

"Aye," the spiky-haired merboy suddenly piped up. "The last body that did lost some scales. Eh?" He snickered, and poked Aaron in the back. Then he waved at me before raising his rebar again, blocking a jab from a very chagrined Aaron.

Wait, no, he waved at Jude, and he seemed just as surprised as I was. "Friend of yours?" I asked as we soared over the kelp, and then down into the valley beyond.

"Don't...think...so," he said. His fingers dug into my shoulders. "I mean...he let me...sit beside...him at....lunch...on—"

"Nobody lets you do anything."

"Shut...up, I'm...talking..." Pause. "I think...his name...is...Neko?"

I peered at him over my shoulder, and lifted a brow — his face was red, and he looked highly anxious. It made me smile a little.

"Say hi to him the next time you see him," I suggested.

"Maybe he was...waving...at you—"

"Nobody in this place has a reason to wave at me," I said. "I don't try to get buddy-buddy with people, unlike you." I popped my elbow into his side. "Loosen up, it's just saying hi. Kick before you swim."

The valley floor of Delphirius was swarming with merfolk as per usual, maybe more than usual — it was pretty nice out today, and fins filled the green as most of the villagers took their work outside. In particular, a group of merfolk surrounded a large pile of stones from the mine, hacking at them with mallets and filing them down with scalpels. A burly merman with a long beard and thick chest hair was watching over them as he worked on his own heap of mineral bounty, and Cora's mother Augo floated behind him, redoing his braid. Is that her father? I hadn't met him yet, and by the look of him, I wasn't sure I wanted to.

Speaking of Cora, she was coming out of the Manor just as I reached the upper deck. Uncle the Dragonair trailed behind her, flashing us a suspicious look before realizing that he'd seen us before and succumbing to a huge yawn. I nodded at the mermaid, and she nodded back in an oddly stiff, formal way.

"Hullo," she said. "How was the trip back?"

"Fine. Where's Kuma? I heard she might be looking for me."

She pointed to the boat. "Inside," she said. "Last I saw her, she be on the final floor, looking at Yeda."

"Thanks." She drifted away, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and I stared after her, wondering if that face had anything to do with me. If it was, I guess she would've told me. Turning, I kicked, taking us down into the boat.

Kuma was indeed on the lowest level of the sunken barge, in a room at the very end that was barely illuminated by a group of swirling Lumineon engaged in a game of tag. Like the others, this room had a makeshift bed — a crate in this case, covered with a mat of seaweed. She was dressing it with an old blanket when I came in, knocking on the door.

"Ah," she said, turning around. The dress she wore today was burgundy, and exposed both shoulders — I was surprised to see a blood-red marking on one, a fuzzy tattoo that was trying to be the Crest of Kygore, but had been worn away with time. "Welcome back. Fair weather, I hope?"

"Fine," I said again, prying Jude's hands from around my neck. He seemed to have caught Uncle's sleepiness, and yawned widely when he was free. "That sentry Aaron said you needed me."

"Aye, before ye be otherwise engaged." Kuma drifted aside, revealing a small pile of material heaped at the foot of the bed; she lifted it and deposited it onto the blanket. "Take a look, will ye?"

I came over, pulling a long length of black free from the pile. It was a T-shirt, and had several words that I couldn't read stamped across the front in all capitals. "What's this?"

"Garb, Valentine's." When I raised a confused brow, she said, "Hattice's groom. I understand ye didn't spare 'em much of a glance when she brought 'em to ye last week."

I remembered now: "I think keeping an eye on Jude's gills was more important."

"Agreed. But with the boy hale and healthy, ye might as well take a gander now. 'Specially you, Nero." She leaned towards me and took a breath. "Them clothes of yers need to be taken to the surface and burned — water about 'em tastes a little sour, and you running around all over creation hasn't helped."

She gave me a pointed look at that, turning the statement into a kind of probe — I hadn't told her about my adventures at Mr. Briney's house or beyond, and she hadn't asked, which was good, as it wasn't her business. Clearly she wanted to make it so, though, and I probably owed it to her for keeping an eye Jude while I was gone.

But I wasn't in a storytelling mood. "I'm not getting rid of my suit." I swam a lot faster in it, and I was all about getting from one place to another without a heavy ensemble to drag me down.

She huffed in annoyance. "Look anyway. Maybe you'll see sense. You too, boy."

Jude was already pawing through the clothing, and held up a long red swim jacket. He peered over at me, raising a brow. Grudgingly, I had to admit I liked the color. I also saw a baggy tank top in the stack that would probably look pretty good on Jude... I tugged it free for a better look, and saw that it had a weird stain at the bottom. Someone had spilled their coffee, seemed. I could probably cut that part free with my knife, though, and with a few stitches...

"While yer doin' that," Kuma said, "I'd speak of prospectin', Nero."

I frowned as I pulled something else from the pile, a thick handkerchief that was close to Jude's favorite shade of navy blue — I wondered if I could make a mask for him out of it. "Prospecting for what?"

"A home, for the two of ye."

I stopped and turned, giving her my full attention. She'd pushed over to the wall, and was rubbing her chin in consideration. "I don't mind the two of ye stayin' here for the foreseeable future," she continued, "but I'd sooner see ye into a cave of yer own. The Manor's not a residence, see, 'cept for the Elders and folk that need close care or medical attention. Yedadiah's already got his tail in a knot for me havin' the two of ye put up here for as long as I have, and there's little I won't do to have him shut his trap, if ye follow. So I want us to find some time to go lookin' for a grotto for ye to call home."

I said nothing; I was still holding the handkerchief in my hand, but now I had no interest in it. Surprisingly, Jude said nothing either — he kept rifling through the clothes, holding each article up for inspection, but I felt him watching me out of the corner of his good eye. His tailfin swept across the floor, and the end poked mine — I didn't know if that was intentional or not, but I suspected so.

"Ye disagree?" There was a frown in Kuma's voice.

Jude's tail poked me again, and I glowered at him. "I don't know if we're staying," I said.

Jude turned back to the clothes, his posture stiff and angry. Kuma crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

"When are ye leavin'?" she asked. "Tomorrow?"

"No."

"The day after that?"

"I don't know."

She shrugged. "Then we'll look later this week. Leavin' or no, I'd like ye to have ye own space." She waited for me to respond to that, but when I didn't, she left the wall and went to the door. "Be back in a trice," she said. "I'll see about some food for ye."

She closed the door behind her, and when she was gone, Jude growled, "You're...stupid."

"Shut up. Else I'll make you wear this." I held up a floral-print dress that probably would've looked fantastic on Cora — why it was with Hattice's husband's clothes, I had no idea. Jude ripped the dress out of my hands and slammed it onto the bed.

"I don't want to leave." The words came out one after the other without breaking, with an uncompromising finality that would've made Titus proud. "I'm...tired of...running..."

"And I'm tired of your selective memory. Have you forgotten what Titus will do to us—do to you—if he finds us?"

"You're...s-stupid. Titus...isn't...chasing us...anymore. If he...was, he ...would've...already...found us."

"Got him all figure out, haven't you?" I said. "Maybe you knew him better than I did. Maybe he was the kind of guy that gave up the whole time, and I never noticed."

"So...what? We just...run until...we die?"

I had a sharp reply at the tip of my tongue, but fumbled. Run until we die? Probably Jude had meant run until we're caught and maybe killed, but I saw something else: an infinitely more harrowing interpretation, where Jude and I were old men, our scars now more peachy-pink than glaring red, each of us crusty, stiff, barely able to swim five yards without getting tuckered out. And yet we kept going, circling the world's waters over and over and over in an endless cycle... The idea brought a swirling illness to my stomach, one that put a crack in my iron-hard convictions.

"We...don't have a choice," I said. "It could be that he's already found the others. If we stop and he comes and finds us... Then what?"

Jude's hands were fists, and they dug into that floral dress. "Re...sist?" he said. It was a question, but turned into a declaration. "Fight."

Arceus' sake. I wanted to sneer, but the idea was so unfunny that I couldn't even manage that. "Cute. With what? I can't take on all of them, even with a knife and hot water." He blinked once, and his eye went to the door, to what lay beyond the door, and now that sneer almost came. "Who, them? Why in hell would they do that? And even if they did, with who? Have you seen their 'sentries'?" My lip curled as I remembered Aaron screwing around with Neko when he should've been paying attention to his surroundings. "No, they can't protect us. Only distance can. We're better off on our own."

"Y-yes they...can." Jude shook his head. "Them and the...Seawatchers... If we...asked, I think...we would... be safe...here. W-we—"

"Jude — enough." I was beginning to get angry. "You don't get a vote — if I say we go, we're going, even if I have to drag you out of here by your hair. And stop acting like you're going to the gallows," I snapped as his face hardened. "You've got half a friend here, maybe not even that. Get over it, you'll survive."

A terrible hurt crossed his face, and then rage; he swept the clothes off the bed, slinging several shirts into my face, before ripping back the covers and burying himself underneath.

Silently, I gathered the clothes from where they floated above my head, folding them into a neat stack before placing them back at the foot of the bed. Guilt welled in my throat — half a friend, that had been a cruel thing to say, especially when Jude was struggling to establish a working relationship with the village kids.

But the hurt now would save him some true heartache later. Because it was pretty likely that we would be leaving after I got Magdalene back. She was the only reason we were here in the first place — once she was back in the ocean, what reason was there for us to stay?

He'll get over it. He'd become jaded after months on the run from Titus's Army, but he'd soon see that leaving Delphirius was for the best.

Or so I hoped.

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