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it takes three tries for absinthe to get off of matchstick and steady herself. when she finally stands on her own, she looks small and hunched, like a shadow that is just begging to be stepped on. she doesn't look at june. instead, she stares down at the ground, fixated on a single blade of grass, a small green soldier among thousands. she thinks that if she stares at it long enough, it will become a separate entity, something completely separate from the life she can't escape.[break][break]

"it means that i think we should stop clinging to morals that have no use in this world," absinthe says finally. "they are pointless and dangerous. they only serve to hurt us. they only serve to cause more problems than they are worth."[break][break]

absinthe finally looks up.[break][break]

"i'm grateful that you stepped in, but i think you should have let me die. i think it's the only right thing to do. and i think helping me, even if not done for me as a person, will only cause you more problems in the future."

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"we used to work together," absinthe confesses in a voice quieter than the din of the city around them. the connection should not be enough to have warranted the man's death. but connections always tend to have a stake in everything.[break][break]

without meeting grigori's gaze, she pulls the laminated card from her pocket. this she absently plays with. it slides on her knuckles, it catches the dim light above them.[break][break]

"doctor william stamberg." the words come from between her teeth as she looks down at the card. "we were going to write a paper together. we did groundbreaking pharmaceutical research once upon a time. he wanted my help with something similar. said only i could do it."[break][break]

she glances at the dumpster. "but i'm not the same woman he wanted to change the world with."

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"i wouldn't have done the same for you."[break][break]

the words come out before absinthe can kill them. she means it, too. had the roles been reversed, had june been in the position that absinthe was in, she would have walked along without a second glance. she wouldn't have stopped. she wouldn't have put herself at risk. that's why she's always been alone. she's selfish.[break][break]

that's why she will let june go through the trouble of solving absinthe's own problems. it's easier to put someone else through the dirt to avoid sticking out her own neck.[break][break]

"go ahead," she says. "i'm not touching the situation anymore."[break][break]

in fact, all she'd like to do is go back home and get drunk enough to forget her own name.[break][break]

as for the question of whether they'll end up with a warrant? that's a gamble. she weighs all of the variables: the arrogance of officer weld, the chance that he or one of his buddies could have gotten a glimpse of june's face or her pokemon, the likelihood that the police are already convinced the two of them are dangerous criminals. then she shakes her head.[break][break]

"probably. he won't know what else to do with himself."[break][break]

it'll pass in a week or so, she thinks. all they have to do is lay low. they've been lucky once today. they won't be that lucky again. the knowledge sits heavy in her chest, a cold weight that drags at her heart.[break][break]

when will life get easier? when will she be able to carry it?[break][break]

"i think both of our lives would be better if we stopped acting like people."

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grigori is right in his musings—absinthe is in a daze. but this is not her first foray into the grave sin of murder. bodies lie in her wake. some corpses she can't even remember, and perhaps that is the gravest sin of all—caring so little for human life that she can't even recall the faces of those slain, nor her reasons for killing them.[break][break]

and, in truth, absinthe did not intend to kill the man. he had wanted to see her. absinthe did not want to come, but she did anyways. she does not know why. guilt? hatred? terror?[break][break]

but her feelings on the matter are obsolete. the man is dead. he had a wife and three children. they will be dead too—if not physically, then mentally. she has ruined five lives today.[break][break]

absinthe listens to grigori, but she does not acknowledge his suggestions for the future. if she were the type to learn from her mistakes, would she not have fewer of them? would her hands not ache, bloodstained once more? but she nods, wordlessly taking the scalpel as he offers it, tucking it back away in the pocket of her soiled jeans.[break][break]

grigori's questions make her pause in the midst of her self-dissection. she'll have to change - she must change. no one, be they witness to her crime, or otherwise, could see her covered in gore like this. absinthe's brow furrows. she's only realizing this now, despite how obvious it should have been. it is embarrassing. her professionalism and competency have waned in the face of sudden, raucous bloodlust.[break][break]

"no," she answers belatedly. "i didn't intend for this meeting to end like this."[break][break]

her eyes lift to him. her head tilts.[break][break]

"you have experience in cleaning up after people like me."

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absinthe stares at june for a moment, eyes narrowed as she tries to decipher if the girl is just saying that or if she really means it. she takes into consideration the way the girl stares defiantly back at the police, how she never once backs down or compromises her stance, even in the face of someone she considers an enemy. the fire in june's eyes, the deep-seated hatred she harbors against cole's old friends and colleagues, shines bright and hot enough for absinthe to believe that what she's saying might be true.[break][break]

and given what the girl said about her father, absinthe has no further doubts.[break][break]

she knows firsthand the powerlessness that can come with loving someone who everyone else thinks is a piece of shit. it's a bitter pill to swallow, one she chokes down every day. it's a feeling she doesn't wish on anyone else. she is not surprised that june is the one who has volunteered to step up and do something about it.[break][break]

but at the end of the day, absinthe just doesn't matter all that much to june. she's a means to an end, a step on the path towards justice. absinthe finds that she doesn't blame her. god knows she doesn't matter all that much to most people either. she's just another bad guy, another corrupt soul trying to claw her way out of a hole she dug herself.[break][break]

"fair enough," she replies at last, looking away to gaze out at the approaching treeline. they'll be safe enough soon. "you can tell freya. but don't mention me or i'll kill you."[break][break]

absinthe pauses, inhales deeply, then continues in the smallest, most genuine voice she has ever mustered.[break][break]

"and thank you for helping me."

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absinthe is slow to process grigori's words, perhaps too slow – so consumed with bloodlust that her mind races despite her even breaths. there's clarity in his voice that she hasn’t been able to produce on her best of days, a level-headedness. and it causes her fingers to loosen from her scalpel, causing it to fall back to the black, slick gravel below. she does not question why grigori is here. she has long assumed any and every member of team rocket to know what at least something about her.[break][break]

he speaks of moving the corpse and the minutes seem to drain from the clock, suddenly more precious than when absinthe first arrived. she follows his gaze to a nearby dumpster and back to her red-stained fingers.[break][break]

as brilliant as her mind can be on a normal day, the scent of blood sends her into a frenzy, much like a shark.[break][break]

"oh. yes. i should move him," she manages. the cool apathy she first exhibited slips momentarily, revealing the tiniest flicker of confusion beneath her calm. she had not thought about the repercussions, the impact of her swift and permanent decision on others. her thoughts flick back, in an unwanted sequence, to college... the plan – a project for success, for legacy.[break][break]

and before absinthe can consider her decision's impact, she finds her feet moving her body closer. she crouches next to the doctor with unfocused eyes as she considers the life she had once nearly been a part of. with gritted teeth, she grabs one cold hand, then the other; pulling, and dragging the corpse away from the glow and into the alley's dark shadows and a dumpster which already smelled of rancid food. absinthe grimaces as her knee, still recovering, tingles with pain.[break][break]

she looks up at grigori. "help me."

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the corpse of her now very ex-colleague, once doctor william stamberg, lays in a crumpled pile at absinthe's feet. his wide open, glassy eyes continue to hold an expression of surprise for some moments before they become dull, vacant, like a toy abandoned by a child who didn’t realize they were giving their beloved object life in the first place.[break][break]

absinthe breathes in through her nose - long, steady breaths like a doctor ordered her to do in the therapy that only went as far as three sessions in an era she now pretends to forget. she glances back up, holding his gaze, eyes flashing with something... anything. irritation. paranoia. whatever it is, she doesn't allow her expression to falter. she doesn't allow that tick in her eye from earlier to twitch even once more.[break][break]

absinthe slowly curls her toes, a small sound of disdain passing between her teeth. the only thing she's careful about is making sure she can return to her den as she is now: sober, controlled, and not splattered with another person's blood.[break][break]

it does give her pause. how has the man in front of her taken care of her bar? does his work render him deserving of an answer?[break][break]

"he was a scientist."[break][break]

her answer is blunt. emotionless. detached. she doesn’t want anyone to know that she knew him, or that she had once thought they had shared interests, and had planned to work on a paper with him to publish a very prestigious journal.[break][break]

she wipes her bloodied hands on her jeans in rough motions before pocketing a keycard from the corpse. she runs it over her knuckles and marvels at how the neon city lights catch on the smooth laminated surface.[break][break]

"sometimes people think they know you," she continues, quieter now. "they'll approach you years after your interactions and imagine you still have the same rapport as before. they'll ask you a favor. they'll joke with you about the futility of life."[break][break]

she looks down at the corpse, then back to grigori.[break][break]

"and then they die."

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absinthe grits her teeth as she contemplates june's words. she knows that the girl is right. even if weld never bothers her again, he will be there, a shadow over everything she does, always waiting to swoop in and remind her of her place in the world—beneath his boot.[break][break]

her options are limited, that much is clear. she can't fight him herself—not like this, with only one good leg and a gas mask to her name. if she did, she'd surely lose. the thought is unbearable. she's lost too much already. she will not lose her dignity as well.[break][break]

she could take june up on her offer, try to get the councilwoman involved and hope that she's feeling merciful today. but that would mean involving freya, who already has too much dirt on absinthe. who knows how many ways that could backfire?[break][break]

or maybe the girl is right, and it would be smarter to get ahead of this problem and bury it beneath the dirt before it can fester any further. absinthe likes her chances better with june than with the police department.[break][break]

but why would june go out of her way to help her at all? absinthe has been nothing but a bitch since she met the girl. she doesn't deserve her help. the thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.[break][break]

"why are you helping me?" she asks at last, her voice low and rough. "i've been nothing but a bitch to you. what do you get out of this?"[break][break]

she braces herself for the response, unsure if she's prepared to hear it.

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the neon glow of a flickering sign casts shadows across the slick black gravel underfoot. absinthe grimaces down at her shoe, soaked through and dyeing her sock an uncomfortable shade of crimson. it feels as if she's being hugged too tight by her own clothes.[break][break]

on his knees, the man that absinthe has just killed - once a scientist from another lab in slateport – looks upwards, hands pressed to the gaping wound in his throat where his windpipe should have been. his breath comes in frantic gasps that gurgles and foams in deep scarlet hues. a dull, red-soaked knife lays discarded in her limp hand.[break][break]

just as his body goes slack, falling onto her shoes in a pool of red, absinthe spots a shadow. a person stands at the entrance of the alleyway. absinthe's eyes narrow. she hadn't thought anyone else was around, especially not at this hour.[break][break]

her head tilts. her eyes sparkle coolly.[break][break]

"what are you looking at?"[break][break]

her fist tightens around her scalpel.

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there is no thankfulness or even acknowledgment that passes between them. it feels as if every bond that had been formed and every alliance made is severed like string cut from cloth. the links are frayed and weak, liable to break with any strain. in the midst of it all, there's something absinthe can't quite shake free: that feeling, half memory half sorrow, of loss.[break][break]

yet, that's also her making. her choice. she bears its consequences with a face like stone, like the surface of the moon.[break][break]

"then pray to whatever pitiful god will listen to you that we never meet again."[break][break]

as she walks away, she feels a deep echo of cole's voice reverberating down her spine, whispers on the back of her neck like summer breath.[break][break]

do you love me?[break][break]

this time, absinthe doesn't respond at all, doesn't even bother to turn over her shoulder. as her footsteps fade into the snow, the chemist knows without a doubt that her life will never be the same.[break][break]

it is with that knowledge that she disappears, a phantom herself, into the whiteness of the blizzard.

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the chemist breathes through her mask, filters out the poison in her lungs and exhales evenly. she's not familiar with the sensation of the pheromones, the memories it inspires. after all, she had never been imprisoned as yuina had.[break][break]

but a life is more than just memories, isn't it? cole is no less dead just because absinthe can taste his ghost at the end of a spoon.[break][break]

the fezandipiti echo standing besides absinthe gives the chemist an almost motherly look, as if trying to impart some small fragment of information known only to it. it doesn't need to say anything. there is only a sound of a feather rustling.[break][break]

yuina stares back at the pair. marked for more than you'll ever be prepared for.[break][break]

it is such a familiar look, absinthe has seen it countless times before in the mirror, the reflection warped and twisted.[break][break]

i do not have the strength left to spare, she wants to say, but there's a small spark at the bottom of her chest, a soft glow, which whispers in the back of absinthe's brain, maybe you do. it has never been wrong. she owes herself that much, doesn't she? she owes herself the knowledge that she can conquer anything that stands in her way, like the poison she brews. maybe it will kill her, but death is easier than living. and the consequences of success are immaterial when one never expects to fail.[break][break]

absinthe blinks and finds herself back on the battlefield, surrounded by ice and fire and poisonous sludge, face-to-face with yuina's shaking hands and houndoom snarling by her side. she can feel the shivers rolling down her back, down her spine. the fezandipiti is there, and it gives her a false sense of stability.[break][break]

absinthe tightens her fingers around the feather, staring yuina down with coal black eyes, glowing with reflected flame.[break][break]

"thank you for the warning," she replies evenly. "it is an honor to be an enemy of this world."[break][break]

she pauses, takes in an even breath, and steels herself.[break][break]

"i will leave you. our deal is done, effective immediately." she turns and begins to walk, but pauses to stare at yuina over her shoulder. "will you be the first to try and spill my blood, yuina? or the last?"

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a decision has been made in the depths of absinthe's mind, one not brought on by sudden change, but rather solidified by what has transpired. somewhere, beneath all of the turmoil and pain, a thought has taken root: this may not have a happy ending.[break][break]

that thought isn’t hopeless, though. if anything, it gives her a sense of purpose. because if there will be pain, suffering, death, she will not allow it to be in vain. every person—every pokémon—that suffers from the devil inside of her, that suffers from her connection to the loyal three, from her research, will count for something. she has to make it count for something.[break][break]

right now, Evelyn seems to be looking towards the future, to finding hope and promise in a world that has just crumbled around their ears.[break][break]

"you're right," she agrees after a long moment, running a hand through her hair and glancing back at the echo. it watches them with an air of detachment, as if it hasn't just witnessed a life-and-death battle. as if it doesn't have a hand in what just happened. as if it isn't going to be the harbinger of their death.[break][break]

but evelyn is, like always, the more level-headed of the two of them. and absinthe is right to listen. the last thing they need is more fighting in this place, especially when both of them are at risk of falling apart.[break][break]

so with great reluctance, absinthe agrees. she packs up the echo into it's crystalline feather.[break][break]

and then they leave, taking only their wounds with them.

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