c3p-0h

Pokémon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

my goddamn post is finally finished! i went back and forth a lot with haven's decision. i was actually kinda surprised with what she chose, but looking at her character, this is really the only way this could've gone lol. i was gonna write a paragraph or two more, with her catching a ride on some supplies truck that goes back and forth between verdanturf and mauville, but i really liked where i ended it. so just assume that that's what happens next lol. if forrest does decide to go after her, i'd like haven to at least make it to mauville.

Pokémon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

@Phoenix yeah but your announcements seem to have fallen flat, so i figured just dropping an obvious link would be easiest.

Pokémon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

@LegionPothIX discord.gg/tJxEbay

Pokémon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

@LegionPothIX discordapp.com/channels/26220093325613..

also… holy shit, sarah's a little bitch in the making. i love it.

Pokémon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

Daycare

Collab with @Phoenix

Haven was still bundled up in bed, surrounded by her Pokemon. Her eyes were puffy and a bit red, but the tear tracks had at least been wiped away. The tablet was propped up on the small table next to the bed, leaning against the lamp. An old Johto program played on it.

The show paused and the screen shifted, alerting her to a phone call. Her mother's face once again appeared. Blink's green vine entered Haven's vision, hitting the decline button. The screen shifted back to the television show, still paused. Blink hit the play button and retracted his vine.

Mrs. James had called Haven down for lunch not too long ago, her voice muffled from the door. Haven had remained silent. Guilt gnawed at her for it – the matronly woman had gone through the trouble of preparing lunch and it seemed a waste to not eat it – but Haven couldn't bring herself to get out of bed. Mrs. James had tried for a few more moments, but had eventually assumed Haven was asleep – though there was a note of worried doubt in her voice. Then she'd left to go back down the stairs.

A loud metallic whine cut through the thin walls of the Day-care. A click snapped soon after. Had the Rangers returned? Loud boot steps hit the wooden floor and came to a sudden stop. The low rumble of a voice passed through the building. Haven could feel more than she could understand. The papery tone of Mrs. James followed.

The boot steps began again. They seemed to grow louder. He was getting closer. What did he want?

Blink hit pause on the tablet again and tipped it so it was facedown on the table. Haven sank deeper under the covers and closed her eyes.

The footsteps stopped. Smack. It was like a single pebble was chucked at the center of the door. The distinct sound of a single knuckle meeting wood was the climax to the dread of having to deal with the Ranger. "Ms. Dao?" the familiar rumble rippled under the door.

How did he get my name?

"May I come in? I need to speak with you.”

One eye peeked open. It wasn't the Ranger. There was a gravelly warmth to his tone. Why was Forrest back?

She looked beside her, meeting Cloak's eyes. The Scrafty shrugged. She looked to Lace. The little Corsola was still buried in Forrest's blanket. Haven sighed, resignation seeping through her. She guessed she sort of owed the guy.

With sluggish movements, Haven pushed at the comforter and eased herself into a sitting position.

"Yeah, I'm decent," she called back. Actually, she probably looked like a mess. But… he'd seen her look worse. She ran a hand through her hair, fingers working through tangles that had already formed.

The doorknob turned slowly, suspicious that she was entirely decent and not trying to put herself together at the last moment. A chirp squeaked from the hinges as the door pushed into the room slowly.

Forrest stood there, no more dressed than when he left and with his forearm against the right side of the doorframe. His body was slouched over slightly as to fit his whole stature in the frame. His hair was unraveled from the braid he'd done earlier that morning. Now it was tight waves around his face and over his left shoulder. His eyes focused on the foot of the bed closest to the door and then slowly worked up to where Haven sat. He was still shirtless.

What does this dude have against shirts?

"You look better," he said, genuinely expressing relief for her current - though disheveled - appearance. But she was alive to be disheveled.

"I looked like the girl who gets axed in the first five minutes of a horror movie earlier, so that's not really saying much. But thanks."

The giant coughed a chuckle, ashamed that he found her amusing despite the accuracy - reality - of her recollection of her own appearance. He moved his hand to his mouth to stop the involuntary convulsions and then coughed what could have been some kind of apology. The corner of Haven's mouth quirked up the slightest bit and she was oddly proud at finally getting him to break his composure.

After another moment, he cleared his throat to continue. "I was directed by the Rangers to escort you to my home. The General can't expend any more Rangers to survey the Day-care and supervise an old woman and a spirited young lady," he explained, meaning a compliment. But his voice was flat, serious.

"I'm to watch over you until the situation has resolved itself. We don't know who exactly those men were that attacked you and we don't fully know their intentions for doing so. To put it bluntly, the Rangers think you a threat to Mrs. James' safety." He hoped she'd appreciate the honesty and believe him to be on her side.

Haven blinked at his monologue. Everything he said made perfect logical sense. She hated that. Protective custody was at the bottom of the list of things she wanted right now. She fell back into the bed with a muffled slump and pulled the comforter up so it covered her head.

"Can't you just take the egg and I'll go hide in a city or something?" she groaned beneath the fabric. Pushing the comforter back down so it was only covering up to her neck, she blinked at the ceiling. "I'm very good at not being caught, I promise."

Evading arrest had been one of the things she'd prided herself on in Goldenrod. Of course, she'd still been caught frequently… just less often than the number of times she'd done something illicit. Hoenn's former champion and part-time lumberjack didn't need to know that though – especially since he seemed to be on casual speaking terms with the Rangers.

He almost rolled his eyes, but thought again how valid her proposition was. But he then determined that course of action wouldn't have been any more secure. "They don't feel the egg is safest here," he misinterpreted. "And you're the last one who had possession, so the law states that it's your property and it must be properly traded to be surrendered. If you're willing to perform the proper procedures, we could remove it from your custody. However, we are unclear as to the intent of these men and whether or not harm is intended upon you."

He took his arm down from the side of the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest, puffing it out as if it would grant him more authority over her. His feet were spread wide, if only to keep his forehead from disappearing above the frame. However, this was a more relaxed position for him. His voice lowered and even softened some. His dull eyes were fuzzed with sympathy for the girl. He wanted to look strong, but was rather intimidating, instead. He wanted to look confident - balanced, steady - but also caring. He couldn't begin to imagine the kind of trauma she was suffering. So he attempted to make it as light as possible while keeping a sense of seriousness for the situation.

"I'm sure it'll be over soon. And you're not under house arrest, or anything. We can do whatever you came to Hoenn to do, even."

Yeah, I can do it with a huge, shirtless babysitter. Great. Haven sighed to herself and sat back up to look at him. Maybe he'll be good for business, she thought, defeated.

He was trying, though. Lacked tact, but that's not who he was. Straightforward and focused were good traits to have. It was becoming clear how he'd become the Champion of Hoenn a decade ago.

"So, come down to eat," he said, jabbing his chin toward her. He bellowed to force the awkward silence that filled the room. "I don't need you passing out before I get home," he said with another huff of a chuckle. His humor was simple, but there was some wit to it...some.

"Well when ya put it like that, charmer, how can I say no?" Her tone made it clear that there were many ways she could say no. But she sighed and pushed at the comforter nonetheless, running a hand through her hair again. Her Pokemon moved around her so she could get out of bed and soon enough she was standing again, stretching her arms up and listening to the light pops in her spine. She'd spent a decent chunk of time curled up in bed, and she was still recovering from almost dying. A few cracks here and there were the least of her worries. Dropping her arms, she looked at Forrest again.

"Lead the way, I guess, Mr. Champion."

"After you," he said and stepped out of the way of the door. He wanted to be behind her in case she collapsed, for whatever reason. He couldn't be too careful when he didn't know exactly what was going on. Hopefully Jeanne can look at her more closely.

The entire building was too small for him, it seemed. The ceilings almost touched his crown. He had to pivot sideways and duck to pass through doors. Even sitting at the table, his knees extended past halfway across the table. His torso hid the back of the chair.

"This is very delicious, Mrs. James. Thank you for feeding us," he said between fork-fulls and hand-fulls.

"Not as good as your wife, though?" she teased with a light giggle.

Forrest just flinched his face in a quick wink and smirk. Mrs. James blushed and waved a hand, appreciating the teasing back at her.

Someone's got a crush.

"I hope you don't mind going with me to my house. I know how overbearing the Rangers can be," he said, his attention toward the girl, now.

Haven glanced up at him, only for her eyes to turn back to her plate.

"You're not gonna carry me there, are you?" she finally asked, only half-joking.

"I mean..." he began with intent to actually carry her. However, the grin on his face alluded to his jest with her as he had with Mrs. James.

She pushed the mashed potatoes around her plate, forcing herself to take a bite every now and then.

Haven didn't want to go with him. She knew why it was the sensible thing to do. But she didn't want to feel protected or watched over, or reminded of what she'd been through and what the stakes were. Haven just wanted this entire thing to be over. It was bad enough she had the scars, the constant reminders etched into her body and memory. She chanced a look back up at him.

"Did you…" she trailed off, pressing her lips together as she thought of what she wanted to ask. "Do you know why it happened?"

Forrest seemed to have been taken aback by the directness she posed. He finished chewing so he could swallow and answer her properly, to match her seriousness.

"'They wanted the egg for their boss,' was all I was told. We believe them to be based in Rustboro, but there's no real proof yet." His tone was colder, now, clinical. "The men and their Pokemon are being taken to the Fairfax Hospital and then going into custody. We just don't know how big this thing could be."

"Awesome." It was not, in fact, awesome. "And you're sure they weren't just some jackasses trying to be new parents?" Haven knew she probably should've turned the flippancy levels down a few notches. And yet: "Maybe they were desperate for an omelet."

Forrest just eyed her, disappointed that she wanted - attempted - to rationalize the behavior of murderous men who ruined her body and her psyche. He didn't need to say "New parents don't try to kill people holding eggs. They don't steal them from Mrs. James..." His look of slight condescension was enough to portray the intent despite his mouth full of potatoes.

Haven glanced up to meet his eyes at his tone, an eyebrow raised. Apparently he'd taken her comments at face value. She looked back down to her food.

"Guess we just do things differently in Johto." The remedy to this situation was almost certainly not more sarcasm. But darn it, she was determined to give it a shot.

Despite herself, Haven was relieved that her attackers were still alive. The world was still scarier with them in it, but… somehow them dying would've made it worse.

"Why do you think they're from Rustboro?"

Forrest lifted the glass of water to his mouth to wash down the masticated food still lingering so he could respond more appropriately. "Medicham," he started and nodded his head toward the front of the house, suggestion she was out there now, "saw either the Hospital or Institute in one of the men's minds. Both looked, to me, like they were Fairfax, and both of those are in Rustboro."

His fork scooped at more potatoes and a piece of steak and threw it into his mouth. It was a small portion so he could still talk without being too disgusting. "But that's a loose assumption," he admitted.

"Maybe they're in Petalburg," she mumbled under her breath. But she'd already resigned herself. "So… what, do you think they're involved with Fairfax or something?"

"That's confidential," he said, ignoring the "Petalburg" accusation. But even he wasn't at liberty to discuss sensitive information. Regardless, that was something entirely unrelated to this situation. At least, he'd hoped it was unrelated.

Forrest scraped off the rest of his plate and finished his fourth glass of water like they were going to hike through Hoenn's Central Desert. But someone his size, of course, needed to consume more. He rose from his seat and knocked the edge of the table with his thigh due to lack of space. His hand rested on the table as if to will it still, and then started to collect the dishes from the table. "I'm going to help Mrs. James clean up here," he started and he put his plate into the sink.

"Oh, no, dear. You needn't do that."

"It's fine, Gram," he said with a smile and touched her forearm. She reached a hand to cup the man's chin and gave him a few pats in gratitude. "You go up and pack your things. We'll leave soon to get you settled in."

Instant rebellion rose up in Haven at this newest command, but she didn't have the energy to indulge it. She knew she was just being petulant.

But honestly, this "Let's order Haven around for her own good" thing was getting old, no matter how benign or reasonable the commands were. She was tired of being told what to do, like she couldn’t figure out how to take care of herself.

Forcing herself to be compliant, Haven took one last bite of food and pushed her chair away from the table to stand.

"Thanks," she murmured, handing her plate to Mrs. James. The old woman gave her a kind smile and waved her away. Haven knew the polite thing to do would be to offer help, but she didn’t have the energy to go through the motions when she was just going to get hushed and dismissed. So she skipped the pleasantries and just went straight to the conclusion: heading to her room to make sure she was packed for the trip.

Her Pokemon were still piled on her bed, watching the TV show on her tablet. Only her Weepinbell looked up when she opened her door.

”Time to pack,” she said, closing the door behind her. She’d only spent a grand total of maybe four hours in this room, but most of her belongings were laid out to dry from the night before. Mrs. James must’ve done it before the attack. Her thoughts raced as she moved around the room, haphazardly folding clothes and throwing them in her bag.

She was going to Petalburg. She was being taken to Petalburg. Apparently she didn’t have a choice. Like how she didn’t have a choice when she’d been carried to the Daycare, or when she’d been attacked, or when she’d been scarred and beaten and almost murdered.

Haven froze where she stood, squeezing her eyes shut. She hadn’t noticed when her heart started pounding against her ribcage. The shirt she’d been holding was now a wrinkled ball in her hands. She took in one slow, shaky breath. She let it out.

Haven was tired of not having a choice. She was tired of other people deciding things for her. She wasn’t helpless. And she wasn’t that punk kid who didn’t know how to stay out of trouble anymore.

She opened her eyes and turned to look at her team. They were all looking at her. She wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been given a choice lately. And they’d been hurt just as she had. With a sigh, Haven dropped the shirt to the ground and walked over to the bed.

"We have two choices," she said. "We go with Forrest to Petalburg and let him take care of us, or we take care of ourselves." She looked between her different Pokemon, gauging their reactions. "I know what I want… but I’m not the only one this affects." Haven kneeled down to be eye-to-eye with them. "I’m…" A hard lump started forming in her throat. "It’s possible… maybe even likely, that people are gonna come after us again. But… I don’t want to feel like this anymore. Like–"

She was cut off as her tablet started ringing again, her mother calling. Haven looked over at it. Once again her mother's face appeared on the screen.

She was probably sick with worry. But she’d worried before. And Haven had taken care of it. She’d done something about it. Because of her, her family wasn’t worried about making rent every month or having enough food, or picking water over electricity. Sure, Haven hadn’t done exactly what her mom had wanted. But Haven had still done something that mattered, she’d helped her family. She’d proven she was worth more than anyone had thought, that she was capable of more.

Sometimes she thought they were maybe even proud of her. Sometimes she was proud of herself.

Haven wouldn’t let two jackasses on a crime spree change that. She couldn’t let them take that from her.

Pressing her lips together, she pushed the decline button on her tablet and looked back to her team.

"We… we can do this. We can make it. We’ll look out for each other just like we have for years. But not unless we all agree to it." Cloak and Dagger glanced to each other, the Granbull nodding quickly. Her Scrafty hesitated a moment, looking Haven in the eye. Then he gave a short nod, too. Lace was already nodding, puffing herself up like that alone would scare off any pursuers. Haven finally let her eyes fall on Blink. The Weepinbell wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were angled down, unfocused.

Blink had always been the most cautious member of their little party – the meekest and most timid. As scarring as the night had been for Haven, she could only imagine how bad it must’ve been for her old partner. He’d always been the one to shy away from trouble that she seemed to jump head first into. Haven likely owed Blink her life – she’d have been in juvie or jail without him to pull her away from her more reckless decisions.

He finally refocused on her eyes. Then he nodded.

Haven let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. "Ok. Then we’re going." Haven pulled their pokeballs out of her pocket and recalled them all in a flash of light. In a few moments all of her belongings had been tossed in her bag. Her bedsheets were thrown back in a rough semblance of order, and Forrest’s blanket was folded on the edge of the bed.

All that was left was the egg. It sat on the corner of her bed, still and innocent. The damned thing was more trouble than it was worth. But Haven knew she couldn't just leave it here. Not after what it'd put Mrs. James through. It'd probably be safe with Forrest… but Haven thought of his family. She thought of Jerrek. She wasn't putting them at risk.

The same sense of obligation that had pushed her out to near-death last night thrummed through her once again. The egg was her responsibility. Her team had found it, she'd brought it to the Daycare, and now she was going to take care of it.

Haven picked it up and put it in her bag. It didn't quite fit, putting a bulge in the fabric and crushing her clothes. But it would have to do. Slipping on her shoes, Haven grabbed her tablet and opened the door.

She crept down the stairs, hyperaware of each creak and groan of the old wooden steps. Memories of sneaking out of her family's tiny apartment echoed through her mind. After an eternity of barely breathing, Haven finally made it to the bottom. Mrs. James' reedy voice chimed from the kitchen, followed by the low rumble of Forrest's laugh. Haven walked to the front door, as quickly as she dared, and grabbed the knob. She turned it and eased the door open.

And then she was out.

Pokémon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

@Kymera holy shit that sounds brutal. be strong.

Pokémon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

it is an overdue mess of a thing is why lol

Pokémon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

i... i really have no excuse for this post.

Pokémon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

Daycare

Haven looked over her shoulder to see Forrest leading the Ranger away. It seemed he just couldn't help but be the hero. The corner of her mouth quirked up in gratitude. Jerrek, following behind his father, turned around one last time to wave at Haven. She raised a hand and gave a small wave back, her smile growing. She watched them grow distant until they were dots on the horizon before finally turning and walking through the door of the Daycare. Cloak walked beside her, still carrying the egg.

"Oh! Haven!" Mrs. James’ voice rustled through the air like shivering leaves in a storm as she stepped through the door on the opposite end of the lobby. She seemed frailer than she'd been last night, less steady on her feet. The skin under her eyes was full and dark, the soft wrinkles heavy and tired. But they were lighter when her eyes focused on Haven's wayward form. "Thank goodness! I thought– when you didn't come back I was so worried, and look at you! Heavens, my girl!"

Relief at seeing the old woman well quickly morphed to concern as she ran herself breathless with her talking and shuffling to Haven. Cloak looked from Mrs. James to Haven and back again, not sure what the best course of action was. In the end he opted to stay where he was as Haven hurried forward to meet Mrs. James halfway.

"I'm sorry, I," Haven started weakly as Mrs. James reached her. Papery hands fluttered to cup Haven's cheeks and hold her shoulders, flitting about Haven like they were afraid she'd shatter. "I got the egg back?" Mrs. James blinked at that. Her eyes darted about until they landed on the Scrafty behind haven, still holding the spotted egg. A bark of a laugh erupted out of Mrs. James.

"So you did!" But her delight quickly sobered as she leveled Haven with a look. Her voice took on a familiar tone – a scolding, maternal sort of worry that Haven remembered from too many conversations with her mother. "I'm not sure it was worth all that you went through for it. That was reckless." Understatement of the decade. "You worried me half to death." There was a helplessness in Mrs. James' voice that echoed in Haven, plucking a familiar guilt.

Haven took a step back from Mrs. James, her grip tightening the blanket around her shoulders. Mrs. James' hands fell a bit.

"Sorry," she murmured. The word fell flat. "I'm happy you're ok, too." Mrs. James' hands fell completely to her side as she looked at Haven for a long moment. Then her face softened with a warm smile that made a lump form in Haven's throat.

"You have nothing to apologize for, dear. You did a very brave thing. Foolish. But brave." She'd closed the distance between them again, unwilling to let Haven retreat. A weathered hand came to rest on Haven's shoulder. "And I'm happy to have you back here safe. It seems the two of us are more durable than we look." Mrs. James gave Haven a cheeky wink and Haven couldn't help the smile curling the corner of her mouth. "I think we could both use some rest, hmm? How about you get washed up in your room and lunch will be ready in a few hours." Haven nodded at her instructions, unable to say no to the old woman and her forceful maternalism. Mrs. James gave her another long look, her hand moving to cup Haven's cheek again for the briefest of seconds. Then she nodded to herself, stepped away, and turned to walk back out of the door she'd come from.

Haven let out a slow, quiet breath. Mrs. James was ok.

---

She stood in the bathroom, bare feet on the cold tile floor. There was a layer of dried mud caked onto the soles of her feet, already flaking off in brittle shards. It trailed around her heels and up her calves, dark splatters and speckles painting her skin. It had dried into the ruined fabric of her robe, making it heavy and stiff. Haven undid the knot at her waist before lifting her hands and sliding the oversized robe off of her shoulders. It landed dully on the ground around her feet.

Haven stared at her reflection in the mirror across from her for a long moment, the image still but for the slight rise and fall of her chest. Her hair was a mess – a dark tangle of knots, tendrils of blood and dirt hanging around her face and down her back. Her eyes, nearly black, looked dully back at her. Her skin was a shocking white save for the dark half-moons under her eyes, the mud, and the shock of bruises drawn across her body. She didn't remember most of them. Her right arm was still a mess of spiderweb lines, pink scar tissue mapping her veins and lining the puncture holes.

Exhaustion leaked through her bones, replacing her marrow.

She was a ghost – some tragic heroine remembered around a campfire. Looking at herself, Haven wasn't sure she was real.

---

She used her towel to wipe down the foggy mirror, clearing streaks in the mist until her face was a sharp image looking back at her. She was finally clean. The dirt and blood were gone and her hair hung in straight wet clumps down her back and over her shoulders. Now the only remnants of the night before were the reminders carved into her body. She felt more human. But she still didn't quite feel like Haven.

Turning around, she looked over her shoulder to finally see the scars on her back.

Her arm curled up behind her back as Haven looked over her shoulder. Her skin was no longer so startlingly pale – the heat of the shower had flushed her pink, but the great X on her back still stood out. Shining scar tissue cut across her back, straight and surgical, perfect lines that hadn't been there yesterday. Her finger grazed the bottom edge of the X, puckered pink tissue near her right hip. The new, sewn-together flesh pulled tightly over her shoulder blade as she moved. The Scyther had –

Haven darted to the toilet and threw up.

---

"Oh, shit," Haven murmured to herself as she looked at her tablet. She was sitting in her bed, back against the wall. The heavy comforter was pulled over her legs. The weight of her own clothes was familiar on her – her old paint-stained jacket and the sweatpants she normally reserved for sleep were a comfortable layer, covering her skin and bruises and scars. The egg was resting on the corner of the bed, propped up between the walls. Her team was all around her, close and too alert to be relaxed. Blink was nestled against her side, vines curled up the length of her arm like he was afraid to let her go. Cloak and Dagger were sitting on the far end of the bed, playing some game that mostly involved slapping each other’s hands. Lace was on Haven’s lap, Forrest’s blanket wrapped around her jagged, rocky body. Haven had kicked herself when she’d realized she’d forgotten to give it back to him. He seemed the type to brush it off and just flat out give it to her, but still… Haven should have at least offered it back.

But for the moment, the blanket was forgotten. She was looking down at her tablet, reading a news headline from ten years ago.

Forrest Johnson named Hoenn’s Champion

There was an image of a younger Forrest and a team of Pokemon, smiling and holding an enormous trophy. Apparently her savior was the former regional Champion. Well. That explained things.

Too tired to do much, but too restless to sleep, Haven had picked up her tablet after her shower in the hopes of finding some distraction on the internet. After a few inane videos and trivia websites, she’d settled on typing in Forrest’s name to the search bar. She hadn’t expected the results to be so numerous.

"Guess I was in good hands…” The vines around her arm tightened at the hollow sound of her voice.

---

Haven drummed her fingers on her knee and bit the corner of her lip as the dial tone sounded from her tablet, a picture of her sister's face appearing above a green phone icon.

Dialing…

"Hello?" Her sister's voice, stained metallic by the call, came out of the tablet. Haven's heart caught in her throat, and for half an instant she was frozen.

"Rose, hey." The words came out too quickly, forced and light.

"Haven?" Rose sounded surprised, a question in her voice. "What’s up? Everything ok?" She spoke with a cautious sort of curiosity. But that was to be expected – Haven almost never called outside of her scheduled weekly calls to their mom.

"You have no faith in me," Haven said with mock hurt, a small smile lifting her mouth. "What, I can’t call my big sister just to hear her voice? I always gotta be in trouble?" Rose was silent on the other line for a long moment.

"Yes." Haven huffed and rolled her eyes, her smile growing. She’d given her family too much crap growing up to expect a different answer.

But this time… she had called to hear Rose’s voice. The lump in her throat was building, forcing its way up.

She’d thought she’d never get to talk to her sister again.

"I just…" She trailed off, hating the slight quiver in her words. Cloak and Dagger had paused their game across from her, and were both watching Haven. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together.

"Hae?" Rose’s tone had changed. It was tender, with a softness that Haven rarely saw. Her hands began to shake and her eyes burned. "Haven, what –"

"Sorry," Haven cut her off. Her voice was growing thicker. "I was calling to ask if I left my green dress at home the last time I visited, but I just found it." The lie came out in a rush, her voice cracking on the last syllable. Haven slapped her hand over her mouth as her shoulders started shaking. Her breath was coming out in hasty, shallow gasps.

"I gotta go," she said at the same time Rose spoke, trying to get a word in. Haven hit the button on her tablet’s screen to hang up, cutting off her sister’s alarmed voice.

As soon as the call disconnected her gasps grew louder, barely contained. Her hands were back over her mouth, clasped tightly as though they alone would keep her emotions at bay. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt tears burn hot tracks down her face. Her shoulders were shuddering, moving with the force of unvoiced sobs. Her team let out sharp cries of alarm and all of them moved to surround her.

The screen of her tablet lit up again as Rose tried to call her. In a fit Haven swatted her tablet off of her lap and heard it clatter to the ground.

Her arms folded in front of her stomach, her fingers clawing tightly at the fabric of her jacket. A cry finally escaped her, pained and desperate. The terror of the night before flooded back to her, the piercing agony that had been nearly paralyzing – nearly fatal.

She’d almost died. She’d thought she was going to die.

Haven couldn’t hold back her sobs anymore as they cut through the air of her small room. She bent over, curling in on herself where she sat on the bed. Someone had placed a hand on her back. Lace, rough and jagged even through the blanket, was forcing herself back onto Haven’s lap, unwilling to let her shrink away.

Lace – with her broken horns. Haven hadn’t been the only one to almost die. Her entire team had been hurt.

"I’m sorry," she gasped out between her sobs. "I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I –" Another cry cut her off. Lace let out a pained chirp and tried to burrow deeper into Haven’s stomach. Her arms came to wrap around the little Corsola, ignoring the jagged points. Lace had lost her horns. Cloak and Dagger had both been knocked out. Blink –

Blink hated battles. It’d taken him so long to even be comfortable with other Pokemon when Haven had first found him.

"I’m sorry." It was all she could say, again and again. Grief and terror mixed with guilt, overpowering her. Haven was drowning in it. She’d survived just to die in this flood, unable to breathe, she couldn’t breathe –

Her breaths were too short, too quick, piercing the air like shards of glass. Her head was spinning. She needed more air but she couldn’t stop gasping.

She clapped her hands back over her mouth, sure to cover her nose, too. Haven shut her eyes, her eyebrows pinching together as she held her breath. Her lungs, already overworked, started to burn like her eyes. When Haven couldn’t bear it any longer, she released her hands. With a loud gasp, air flooded her lungs and immediately her head started clearing.

Haven took deep, shuddering swallows of air. Her breath still hitched now and then. Her face was still wet, but the tears eventually stopped flowing so freely. She was still save for the heavy rise and fall of her breathing and the way she trembled. She felt hollow, like the act of crying had emptied her. She’d carved out everything that had been inside of her.

Haven sniffled. She reached up and swiped futilely at her cheek. Another sniff.

Eventually she forced herself to move. Heavy, tired arms pushed at the comforter on top of her legs, pushing them back so Haven could slip deeper into the bed and curl on her side. She opened it up more and Lace waddled in next to her. Dagger placed herself on top of Haven’s legs, curling up to be a steady, grounding weight there. Cloak sat next to Haven’s pillow, back against the wall. On her other side, Blink nestled against her back.

She watched her tablet’s screen light up again, this time with her mother’s face – her tired eyes and warm smile. Haven let her tablet ring on the floor.

Grand Theft Auto: The Syndicate

^{Collab with @Silent Observer}

---

Tuesday, May 23rd

Location: The Lake
Characters: Judah & Camille

---

This was a feeling unlike anything Judah had ever felt in his entire young adult life. He had been to a lot of places, and he had certainly done a lot of drugs, but none of those things topped this moment. There was no greater high than the one he got when he jumped out of that plane, leaving his life and body at the mercy of the Earth’s gravitational pull. Maybe this is why being in an altered mental state is called a ‘high’ – this was the thrill that people were chasing, and they weren’t even aware of it.

Judah lost himself in the moment, forgetting that if he didn’t pull the cord for his chute in approximately two milliseconds, he was in for a world of pain upon impact. After a very brief, panicked scramble, Judah’s fingers found the ring on his chest and yanked. A dark blue balloon of fabric billowed out of the pack and caught the air currents behind him, slowing his descent. Of course, much like the flight itself, this maneuver could have been executed a little bit better. The impact of the water felt like it damn near took a layer of skin off, but nothing critical was broken.

Adrenaline coursed through the young man as he burst through the lake’s surface and gasped for breath. Holy SHIT. Count him in as The Syndicate’s new official, ready AND willing, pilot. He could do this one hundred times over, especially with the company of a sexy little firecracker like Cami. Speaking of… Judah turned in search of his partner.

Camille fell to the water just as Judah emerged, the force nearly knocking the wind out of her. She plunged into the lake, the parachute luckily keeping her from falling too far. It yanked her back, causing the straps to dig into her shoulders. Camille watched as air bubbled out of her mouth at the sudden movement. Fighting to orient herself, she finally kicked and broke through the surface with a gasp and a cough. Barely keeping her head above the water, she looked around. The parachute was finally fluttering down to land on the lake’s surface behind her, the material soaking up water and beginning to sink. She needed to detach before it pulled her down.

Shaking, adrenaline-fueled hands fumbled around the clasp on her chest, usually deft fingers struggling to unlatch it. Judah, who had already freed himself from his chute, started swimming over to Camille.

“Hey, you okay?” He wanted to ask if she needed help, but took this one single moment to not sound like his usual patronizing self. The implication that he was willing to help, as she seemed to be struggling, was still there without directly asking.

Camille felt relief flood her (in spite of herself) at Judah’s voice. She wasn’t alone. He was here and she wasn’t alone, she wasn’t going to drown, she –

The clasp finally came undone.

“I’ve got it!” she said breathlessly.

As quick as she could manage, she slipped the parachute off of her shoulders, immediately feeling the dragging weight leave her. Keeping her head up was still a struggle, but at least now she wasn’t in fear of going completely under. Her eyes finally focused on Judah, still wide and bright, but no longer panicked.

Talking over the wind and waves (apparently crashing a plane into a lake drummed up a few waves) proved difficult. They were both winded from the fall and trying to keep themselves afloat. Rather than continue to basically yell at each other, Judah nodded towards the shore and waited for her to start swimming. Once Camille did, he followed after, swimming a few strokes behind. He might be a dick, but he wasn’t going to swim ahead and let her drown or something tragic.

Camille held her breath for most of the swim over, not wanting to risk breathing in the water. She focused on the shore growing closer with each messy stroke, fighting the choppy waves.

But she didn't realize how close she was until the toe of her ruined shoe grazed the mud and rocks beneath her.

She started in surprise, pausing her strokes. Then she put one foot down on the bottom of the lake. Then the other. Straightening up, Camille found herself standing waist-deep in the water.

“Oh thank god,” she breathed to herself.

She looked up and brought the heels of her hands over her eyes. A long, quivering breath escaped her. In the dark, she focused on the feeling of the water pushing around her legs and dripping down her neck, the sound of her thundering heart and the waves washing over the shore.

Camille hated swimming. And now she hated flying, too. It was a relief to finally have her feet on the ground.

Her hands moved up from her eyes to run over her soaking hair. She opened her eyes with one more shaking breath.

She was alive. She was fine.

Camille looked over her shoulder to check on her ‘partner’.

Said partner’s feet met the shore a few moments after Camille’s did. As soon as he was officially on land, the whole rush of everything came back in full force. Judah stood up, still knee deep in the lake, and shook off some water excitably. The mixture of the buzzing energy under his skin, and the way that Camille was standing and combing her hands through her hair, wet clothing clinging to her body, and the fact that they were alive, it all went straight to his head.

Judah didn’t think about it, he just did it. This was the epitome of living life to the fullest. He ran at the tan-skinned beauty, caught her around the waist in her moment of zen, and spun her around and off of her feet. She gave a sharp yelp in surprise as they twirled, her hands automatically going to his shoulders. Before she could fully react, he planted a full-on, no reservations kiss upon her lips. They were alive, they completed the mission, they earned this… at least, that’s how he felt.

Camille was stunned for a fraction of a moment when Judah kissed her as she processed what exactly was happening. What he was doing. His lips were… actually kind of soft. Forceful and messy and lacking any sort of finesse, but… it wasn't the worst kiss Camille’d ever had.

She allowed one more fraction of time to let herself enjoy it for all its uncouth glory.

Then she shoved Judah’s shoulders back, wound up, and slapped him across the face. Judah stepped back and dropped his hold on her waist, leaving her on her own two feet once more.

“Oooooh~” Judah remarked in a long, purr-like humm, his hand immediately went to his jaw in an attempt to rub away the sting. The bitch hit hard. It was kind of, well... it was kind of hot. He hadn’t come across a girl this feisty since his days in Liberty City, and that was truly saying something. He laughed quietly, it was a breathy noise that got trapped in his throat as he smirked at Camille. “Spicy. Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” he teased.

Oh good lord, he's into it, Camille thought with no small amount of exasperation. But something about the way his lips quirked up… Camille straightened her spine, a haughty tilt to her head.

“Not drowning and making it to shore?” she asked, her voice light if a bit breathless. She stepped forward to close the distance between them again. A slender hand raised to pick off a stray piece of kelp on his shoulder and toss it delicately to the side. “Yes, I liked that very much, thank you for asking. Everything else?” Her hand rested on his shoulder, pulling him down a bit. Her dark eyes locked on his. “Needs practice.” She gave him a sweet smile of her own, pushing him back lightly. Then Camille turned away from him and started walking back up to the shore.

“Mmhmm,” he murmured in response behind her back, obviously not buying it. “Guess we’ll just have to practice, then.” His tone was very matter-of-fact, spoken behind smiling lips. Judah followed her down the shoreline, seaweed and sand stuck to his pants and shoes inelegantly. He felt gross and soaked to the bone, but it was worth it. The young man stripped off his shirt, revealing the well-maintained, but not overly muscular physique beneath, and began ringing the water out of the thin cotton garment. He tilted his head up to listen for any signs of, well, ongoing chaos? They did just aid in the largest prison break this city had ever witnessed, surely there would be audible explosions and fanfare.

“We should get to the rendezvous point, that is, if they haven’t just assumed we died.” Judah thought on that for a moment. Nah, Ryan would make sure someone checked up on the “Air Jew” crew. He rolled his eyes at the memory of Ry's joke and kept walking.

“I certainly would have,” Camille said, pulling out an airtight bag as she walked beside him. She opened it to retrieve a simple mask with only one hole for the eyes. “Would knowing you longer cause them to have more, or less faith in you?” Camille paused and looked up at the sound of police sirens drawing closer. A plane crash was bound to call attention. “We should probably avoid them.”

“It depends on who you'd ask,” Judah replied to her inquiry with unexpected ease and honesty. He saw her putting her mask on and remembered his own. It was a simple blue ski mask, easily bunched up and stuffed in his back pocket and, like Camille’s, it was also kept dry by a bag. Judah unwrapped it and pulled it over his head before nodding in her direction. It was time to get out of here, meet up with the others, and have a fucking party.