Sage raised a brow up at him, as though still bewildered, but eventually stood as well, preparing to leave.

“Ok...”

At having his back, she nodded. “Of course. Always.”

She couldn’t have possibly imagined the scenario which would cut such a promise in half.

It was weird. She didn’t think much about it. Not in that moment. She wouldn’t, for a long while, except for maybe a few passing moments that evening, when processing her day in bed. 

Sage shook her head, ridding thoughts of family. Something far out of her reach. Why stretch? Why even give it a passing thought?

“…”

“Okay.”

106 people.

106 lives; families affected with the poison of pain and hatred, running into hundreds of other veins, and into a thousand circles. Systems, corrupt.

Forever.

She had lived with children who had lost, at all ages. War ravaged like a timeless plague. And to turn on your own? To willingly infect? It was unforgiveable.

She felt her lungs sink into the soles of her feet, unable to bear the pressure, and caving to the gravity of an entirely new atmosphere.

She felt guilt. She’d left.

She should’ve been one of them.

She should’ve been #107.

He could've prevented it?

“What?”

How? Why? Had he done something to somehow set off such a situation?

There was a moment, and she then began on a focused path, marked by persistence. She streamlined over cracks to avoid a breakdown, picking up speed; on a mission for answers, like a bloodhound.

“Why did he leave you alive, Matias?”

Her voice was smooth, but warm, in an ominous sort of way, like the heat radiating through the closed door to a house fire.

It felt like it was coming out of left field, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with it.

Sage pursed her lips a little.

“I don’t think he wants kids, either. I could be wrong about that, though…” Maybe that would have changed her mind?

She shook her head, knowing she wasn’t helping things. “’Third wheeling’?”

Her eyes turned on the man again, brow still a little wrinkled—but this time, it might look almost offended.

His question went unanswered, except for with another.

“Do you even know how long I’ve known Matias?”

Sage declined, muttering, “No thanks.”

Her eyes lingered on the children again, for only a moment, and were then drawn back in.

She chuckled a little, perhaps not reading his tone initially. Then, his question caught her off guard. Her face fell.

“What?”

“What do you mean? I like you fine.”

Missing.

She was in shock. Her heart raced.

The whole unit? What?

“Guess I have her to thank then,” she breathed, unable to say much else. Which was going to make their first meeting even weirder. Oh well.

Eyes went to his side, where the scar dug in, something taken by the past.

She sniffed.

“What reason is that?”

Her mouth went dry.

She felt tainted. Like, in some way, because they’d brought life into the world together, that she was tied to the enemy forever.

King.

The father of her child.

“What?” Why?

There was silence, and careful, measured breaths as she attempted to process the information. What now?

“I’ll kill him.”

Typically, Sage was a peaceful person—except when otherwise absolutely necessary—but the gleam in her eyes held full intent.

“Where is he?”

Her face shifted a little. Things continued to hurt. First, there was the fact that they were to remain friends forever. Now, he lied to evade her, for some reason. Maybe disinterested in sharing things with her, now? Things had changed.

Or… maybe it’d been traumatic?

“What happened, though? Unless you... don’t want to talk about it, of course. In that case...”

Never mind?

What did he know?

She stared at the ground, picturing her own childhood a moment. Scattered, and without parents of her own—ever, really. The memories weren’t necessarily painful. They just… were.

Perhaps there would always be a lingering suspicion that there was something wrong with her, but she’d never tell anyone. Such concerns were pointless. She did what she could, and she always had. No sense in dwelling, especially when there was nothing about herself that she was willing to change for anyone.

Not even her own child, Arceus forbid.

“I think you’re wrong.” Again, she looked at him. “But we’re all entitled to our own opinions, right?”

It hurt, but she endured it. Smiled, still.


And, at the mention of saving his life, it faded. It was too fake to last in such a moment. That was… something to appreciate, even if the woman had unknowingly taken up the only desire she’d ever known. It felt like she’d been robbed. Now she owed this Eva woman a favor.

Her heart twisted in weird ways.

“Saved your life?” She regretted leaving, even though it couldn’t have been helped, maybe.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

Sage shrugged. Did she really need a reason, anyways? Why did children seem so appealing to so many people, when so few of them were actually suited? 

“I don’t know. I don’t really feel like the type.”

Perhaps time would, unfortunately, prove that she wasn't.