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Occasionally, Fern mumbles apologies for the pain, with each and every little wince. Lips press against his hair.[break][break]

They likely don’t have the time to do any stitching right then, so once the wound is cleaned up, they take up the roll of linen bandages and dress.[break][break]

“This'll need proper care as soon as you can manage.” And who knows how much longer this day will stretch on.[break][break]

“What was it doing out there?” Well, not helping them out, obviously. Jayden suddenly seems fixated on everything around, and Fern startles as he abruptly tries to stand. “Hey, hey. You have to take it easy for a minute.”[breaK][break]

They look around at the bleak space again, then back at Jayden. “Do you know where we are?” they ask instead. “It’s still the interdream zone, it’s not really this place…wherever it is.”[break][break]

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Astlik is going to have her share of battle wounds from this day, it seems. Brigid is tired, of course, and running on fumes, but the goodra manages one more pulse of LIFE DEW on the dragapult—at least to slow the blood flow.[break][break]

“Of course.” Fern shifts to take his arm and turn it gently. Grabbing a disinfecting wipe, they tear open the seal. Practiced fingers dab it over the open wound as carefully as they can manage.[break][break]

Years of both training under his da and patching up their own injuries means this comes naturally and instinctively. “I’m sure all the salt from the water helped too,” they muse quietly as they wipe away blood and gritty sand.[break][break]

The sand on the ground hasn’t reappeared yet, they realize with a pause. But his remark tears Fern’s thoughts away.[break][break]

“Latias? Out here?”

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Fern frowns as the gaps in his memory are made clear.[break][break]

Their hand lifts, fingers brushing a fringe of wet hair from his forehead dotingly. That same hand smooths over his back when he leans against them. “You fell from Astlik into the ocean.”[break][break]

The sight is still sharp and clear in their own memory.[break][break]

“Oh,” they breathe at the sight of the gash running along his arm. In all the fuss, they hadn’t even noticed it. “That’s going to need stitches.” Luckily, though, they did have a kit.[break][break]

Hopefully the ocean hasn’t completely ruined it. “My da would be aghast if he found out I wasn’t carrying one.” Producing a plastic case from their pocket, they pop the clasps and offer it to him.

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Their head lolls to the side as they look over at her, a sly sort of smile slipping across their mouth. Or maybe it’s more knowing, because there’s nothing inherently conniving about it—strangely enough. They could relate in their own way, even if their own circumstances were different (not that they know that.) “You’re not wrong, it certainly does. And it matters, yes.”[break][break]

Fern’s arms stretch up above their head, rolling up to their toes for a few steps as they attempt to loosen their muscles. So much walking today. “But please do tell me what it is I care about, exactly.” Fern has always been an autonomous entity. Their upbringing was not within Rocket—all of their cons and work, the business they’ve built was all on their own. It took distance, cards held close to their chest.[break][break]

They’re simply not surly and burned. Hiding in plain sight, everyone thinks they know Fern until one day the realization comes that they don’t at all. Not one bit. Those who held the right were few and far between.

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The sharp bite finds its home as Medb’s teeth sink into the salamence’s leg. That’s all the dragapult is capable of as the wounds on her belly continue to weep.[break][break]

Another keening cry shoots through Fern, dousing their bloodstream with icy dread. And as they wheel away, they can only hope she won’t follow, that the shredded dragalge is enough to stay her hand. Had they known Vectis’ origin, perhaps they might feel a morsel of guilt, but for their sake it’s better they don’t.[break][break]

Still, Fern supposed it was a shame. The dragon was a pretty little thing.[break][break]

They let out a held breath when she does not follow. With no further threat of retaliation, they free Morty. The gengar casts an eerie smile through the shadows back toward Freya that likely goes unseen. Red eyes glow with a flare of light as she rips open a portal ahead of Fern and Medb, and they shoot through the tear to be spit out a short distance away.[break][break]

Out of sight, but not out of mind, perhaps.[break][break]

Morty’s taunting grin fills the empty air that Fern normally would have obliged. Then she closes up the PHANTOM FORCE behind her, and they are gone.

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Well, there’s certainly no salvaging that dragalge, is there? Any taunt that Fern had planned to level at the other dragon rider is wiped from their mind as the salamence surges toward them in a swiping fury.[break][break]

Medb rears upward to shield Fern from the blow, and catches the brunt of Lyune’s claws as they rake down her softer underbelly. Blood blooms and blossoms around her in the dense air as she lets out a shrill cry.

In close quarters, Freya might catch sight of Fern’s irritated grimace as the dragapult BITES back at a sturdy foreleg in her panic before peering away.[break][break]

Another quick look downward is all they need to confirm the fact that there’s no need to even attempt collecting the froslass. They suck in a short breath. Yikes. They can endure the loss, however.[break][break]

Medb’s well-being is far more pressing to Fern. She trills low, the sound pained in the back of her throat. They won’t lose her the way they nearly lost Ceci at Mt. Pyre.[break][break]

So as much as they would like to stay and continue to pick off the other seaweed dragon, Fern yields. Swerving away from the fight, the pair turn tail to dart away.[break][break]

A hand on their gengar’s pokeball in their pocket, Fern looks back over their shoulder to see if she might continue to pursue.

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“Yeah, it’s me.” Their head tilts into the the touch of his fingers as they drift across their face. “It was a lucky thing that I saw you fall.” The thought of what might’ve happened otherwise is quickly shoved away.[break][break]

They let out the breath of a laugh with a soft shake of their head. “No, duck. I don’t mean you.” Fern reaches down to tug him to carefully sit up. “A pocket of the interdream zone must’ve opened up on the beach.”[break][break]

Gesturing around, it sinks in that they’re not shrouded in pink mist, but the persistence of cold scenery. “See?” Their state returns to him, though.[break][break]

The relief to see stormy purple rather than crimson is palpable.[break][break]

“It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re awake. You scared me half to death.”

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“Why would you even care?” they bite back. The only opinion that matters isn’t Alexei’s, it’s Michail’s. And Fern disagrees with his older brother’s claims.[break][break]

They know what they’ve felt.[break][break]

FEAR floods their system, though, even as they stand their ground. As Alexei warps and mutates into something grotesque, they can’t ignore the pulse of dread. The shiver that lances up their spine again and again.[break][break]

Storm-like rips apart the sky above them from the warring Pokémon, but their eyes are trained on Alexei. On the way his jaw seems to unhinge, the warp of the landscape around them.[break][break]

In a prison cell, they feel cold and alone. Unprepared to meet a strange fate as they try to duck away from the tear of hands and teeth. But they find their HATE beginning to crowd out the anxiety. Twisting and burning through their system as they seek to lash back out.[break][break]

Only to find the mist assisting them.[break][break]

A vulpine smile stretches across their face as Aleks is yanked backward. “My confidence? Will it?” they muse, something cold twisting through their voice as he’s pulled downward. “I hope you choke on it instead.”[break][break]

Their eyes remain fixed on his dissipating figure.[break][break]

And then they hear the cough.[break][break]

They turn sharply, stumbling with how whiplash fast their own movement is. Then they’re on their knees next to him, peering down at him with frantic eyes. “Michail?” They can’t bring themself to reach out again.[break][break]

Not until he says something.[break][break]

“What took you so long?” The chiding tease is too garbled by the thickness in their throat as they speak. “This isn’t a trick…right?”[break][break]

It would feel unbearably cruel, to remain fooled by the mist.