18. Bare
So, after reading Wordsnatcher's fic, I was inspired to finally sit down and finish a prompt I had start a million times over, but never completed. W00t!
Enjoy!
18. Bare
Characters: Giovanni, Seren, Madame Boss
Pov: Seren
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Baring your soul isn't as difficult if you trust the one you're baring it to.
18. Bare
Characters: Giovanni, Seren, Madame Boss
Pov: Seren
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Baring your soul isn't as difficult if you trust the one you're baring it to.
And how far would you go to protect the one you love?
Inspired by Wordsnatcher's fic. You are awesome!
Italics in the first part is Madame Boss
First part is when they're about 30, so 13 years before current stories.
Neshama: Hebrew word that means “soul”, “My soul”, used when referring to the idea that a person and their mate are one soul.
Ken: “yes” in Hebrew
Ahuvi: “My love”, same language
Ametista: Italian for "Amethyst", here used as a pet name describing her eyes
With extreme calmness, I want to keep existing within the hell of violent black anger.
While forming a miracle in the frozen hellfire, let me adorn thine neck with a necklace made of steel.
Oh, 'great gift of god' (Ha!),
Kneel down before me, I am controlling thee,
And I will tie thee to my white feet with hardened chains of steel.
Bow down to the earth, kneel before me.
Listen to my divine words,
“Deep inside the black abyss, the darkness burns its flame of sinful destruction.”
The bottom of hell reflects thee,
Devote thy demonic name, thy true name to me.
Because thou belong to me,
Because I know thine demonic name, thy true name.
“The wound carved unto thine body will leave a scar that never disappears.”
Even if thou struggle, it would be useless, now is too late.
"The shackles of binding, the chains of thorns.”
Thou art the prisoner of mine.
Entangled in those arms
“Turn unto a song,”
Thy pale fingertip
I shall become the hardened chains of steel that bind thee
I shall become the thorny tendrils that torment thee
I shall become the silver sword that cuts on thine body
I shall become everything...
~~~~~~~~
“I can't do it.” My husband says, looking down at the floor, head in hands, as we sit in the waiting room in the courthouse.
The lawyer balks, “But Mr. Rochat, if you don't testify, your mother...”
I glare at him, and he stops, “Don't you ever call her that again. It's Ms. Moretti from now on, are we clear?”
“Y-Yes, crystal clear, Mrs. Rochat,” he gulps, “If you don't testify, sir, it is very possible that your...Ms. Moretti will get off on a lesser charge.”
“Don't you think I know that!?” Giovanni snaps, jet eyes flashing, crushing the empty glass in his hand into nothing more than shards.
“Perhaps he could write it, and I could speak on his behalf?” I offer, massaging my husband's shoulders until he stops clenching all of the muscles, dropping the broken crystals into a nearby trashcan, the slivers plink-plinking at the bottom.
“Unfortunately, since the defense will want to cross-examine...”
“Then let me stand beside him.”
The lawyer sighs, “Sorry...if he had mental trouble...”
I reach across the table and grab him by the shirt, “She sexually assaulted him! I happen to know very painfully how mentally jarring being raped is, and one of the times was by her; would you like me to describe it in detail?!” He squeaks out a negative, and I let him go, “thought so.”
He hurriedly fixes his tie, “Um, I'll have to ask the judge... Could you grant me a moment?” I nod, and he walks off.
There's silence for a moment, then I hear a quiet “Did she really attack you?” from my husband.
“Yeah, when I was recovering from being raped during the war, as well. Remember when I had to go on missions for her?” -Nod- “it was during one of those. That's one of the reasons it took longer than I wanted for recovering mentally.”
He grips my hand in his, “Why did you never...”
“Because she threatened you and our daughter, simple as that.” I laugh bitterly, and he stares at me, “You know, if this trial didn't come up, I probably would have taken her out myself.”
He raises an brow, “You seriously would have assassinated her?”
I shrug, “That was my idea, and Robin and Miyamoto and most of the executives were agreeing with it, saying she was leading the Team into ruin. Unfortunately, Miya and Robin were sent on a suicide mission to find that damned Mew.” I brush my black hair out of my eyes, “Would you have agreed to it, had I told you before?”
He's quiet for a second, “I'm not sure. Up until she actually...well, you know, I think part of me hoped it was all a ruse or something created by her getting sick all those years ago.”
“I'm not sure the 'stroke' wasn't a ruse.”
“True...” he sighs, “Up until now, I didn't think she could hurt me like this. It's not like I consciously trusted her anymore.”
“She birthed you...it sort of comes ingrained in the DNA to trust the one who gives us life, even someone as terrible as her.”
He chuckles humourlessly, “Heh, you know, I faced the strongest people in the war, been on dangerous missions with you, been hit by bomb shrapnel.... I've waltzed with death many times, and it still doesn't scare me half as bad as the woman in that room does.”
The lawyer comes back in, “Well?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, he cannot allow it...”
“Benzona...” I curse under my breath, “Who's the judge?”
“Sasaki. Why?”
I smile innocently, “Oh, no reason, just curious. Could you leave us for a moment?”
“Of course, but please do not take much longer, the trial will start soon.”
He leaves, and I grin at my husband, “Well, there may be a silver lining here, at least.”
Giovanni sits back, closing his eyes, “What's that, Ahuvi?”
“This judge is new, got elected after she was arrested.”
“In other words?”
I push my glasses back up, “She probably hasn't had sufficient time to influence him, like the other judges. He also hasn't had enough time to become corrupted by the power, like the others.”
For the first time since the incident, his eyes start to show a faint sign of hope, “So if she hasn't had a chance to influence him... we stand a chance of her not going free.”
“Yes, hopefully...here,” I remove my necklace, a Italian crafted Star of David he got me many years ago, when we were on our honeymoon, a first way of merging our cultures and hearts, something we've done often over the years, “Take this. May it bring you the same strength it has given me.”
He smiles and puts it in his pocket, “thanks, Sery. I don't think you have any idea what your support means to me.”
“I'm sure I have a clue,” I chuckle, when the lawyer sticks his head back in, “what is it?”
“We need to start the trial now, or we have to reschedule...”
“Might as well get this over with, Neshama,” He speaks the last word quietly, but with all the love and support it brings with it, the idea of our souls being one and the same.
I nod, and kiss him on the lips, “let's finish this.”
The trial begins, and when it comes time for him to testify, he squeezes my hand again before slowly taking the stand. He gets through it with less difficulty than we expected, occasionally stopping to keep himself calm. But even with our testimony, it seems she might have had just enough time to skew the judge, because instead of the fullest extent of the law, she gets her insanity plea not only recognized, but accepted. Damn her, and damn the stupid judge!
After the trial, I convince them to allow me a word with her, though it's in front of a bunch of guards. And in front of them, she laughs at me, “Well, I certainly hope you won't be taking a job as an attorney anytime soon. You're as pathetic of a girl as you always have been, Seren, too scared to get the job done.” So she did know about the assassination plan. Hmph, no matter.
So in front of them, I growl in her ear, “Then let this pathetic girl tell you something. If I ever see your face outside of that asylum, I will blow it off, personally.”
She guffaws as they lead her away, “Forget it, you wouldn't put your family in risk doing something that ballsy!” And the police car drives off with her in tow.
“We'll see about that...note to self: figure out how to obtain immunity...” I mutter as I go to tend to my poor husband.
~~~~~
A few months later, and I notice that my Vanni's recovery isn't going as smoothly as it could be. Now I can say from experience that it is rather rough to recuperate after such a traumatic event, but one day, I notice something disturbing.
I look like her.
The same black hair, the same style of suits...I become sick just thinking about it. Perhaps this is why the recovery is slow... So, to rid myself of her image, I change my look just enough to destroy the resemblance, even dyeing and cutting my hair from my lower back, all the way up to my shoulders; my hair is now deep mahogany, my suits are changed to shorter cuts that flatter my figure more, and I buy a pair of boots. She never wore boots, even in the winter.
When I go to show him, I see him sitting on the couch playing with our five children quietly. It is bittersweet to see, since I know they will never get to play with the twins I lost after he was attacked, but I am glad I have these beautiful children.
I come up to him, he looks me up and down, and frowns, “Your hair and clothes... what'd you do to them?”
I give him a little smile, “I, I didn't want my appearance to make things harder for your recovery...so I changed how I look.”
“Your appearance?” He looks rather confused. He gently shoos the kids out as he figures this will need to be a private conversation, but not before our oldest kisses him on the cheek, “What was that for, Rosy?” He asks.
Our little 9-year-old, Rosa-Bree, smiles sweetly, “For you to get better,” -At the raised brow, she goes on- “Mommy said your heart's in pain, so I kissed you to make it better.”
As she runs out, he keeps his confused look, “My 'heart's in pain'?”
I grimace, “She must have overheard me say your 'soul is crying out' to Avi...” My father triples as not only my father, but as our Rabbi and counselor, during this time and others.
He gently pulls my hand so I sit beside him, “So...why the sudden change in appearance?”
I explain, “well, I know I look like...her... a bit, so I changed how I look so...so you won't be reminded of her.”
He frowns, “Seren, what are you talking about? You don't look like her at all,” At my own confused look, he continues, “Yes, you both have wavy blue-black hair; yes, you're both tall, and yes, you're both beautiful, you devastatingly so. You don't look alike at all to me, though. I know some others have commented on a resemblance, but to me, there is no comparison,” he smiles, and I can see all the sadness reflected in it, “It would be like comparing light and darkness, my love. I see so much love and life and light in you...her, not so much.”
He stops for a moment before continuing, “I suppose one way to put it would be this: When either of you enter a room, everyone stops and stares. With you...you light up the room, and you are resplendent. There is a sense of welcome there, and everyone feels comfortable. When she enters the room...this feeling of dread and danger fills the place, the air becomes thick with tension -god, does that bring back countless memories. And she is beautiful, oh yes, there is no question about it...but there is always such a deadly feeling to her, like she would think nothing of stabbing you in the back and whistle as she was walking away.” He chuckles, but there is little humour to it. Oh, how I miss his carefree laughter! “At least with you, the worst air I get is mischief, like you're going to grab me from behind, tell me something risqué you want to do with me, and then drag me off to do it...But I'm getting ahead of myself. The point is, my dear,” he takes my hand in his, “You look nothing like her, so don't feel like you are slowing my recovery by simply being the woman I have come to love so much. I know most of the time I am around things that remind me of her, and I get agitated quickly and lose my patience...”
“Hence the bad mood when you think about heading Team Rocket?”
He struggles with a flash of anger, before continuing carefully, “Exactly. I would refuse, but...It is what I was raised to do, and...I want to prove her wrong. She always said, even as we were children, I would be weak, that I wouldn't be able to raise a family or run the company, hers or my father's...I want to prove her wrong so badly, Seren. I want that power, that feeling of showing her from a distance that I am so much better than she believed me to be. So much stronger than anyone ever believed.” He kisses me, “and that's where I must thank you. You and my father are the only ones who ever saw me as anyone else besides my mother's son. Everyone else saw me as always in her shadow, nothing more. You just saw me as a friend, and that's all I've ever wanted...”
“Well, you've always believed in me, too. So, thank you, my love.” I say, kissing him back gently.
We sit in silence for a moment, petting our Persians, letting it all sink in, when he speaks again, “Seren?”
“Ken?”
“Thank you as well... for being my stronghold, my shelter when I feel so vulnerable...so bare.”
~~~
The words echo in my head as we sit in a room, the only other person a bodyguard. A year later, and my hair is its regular color and has grown back to its normal length past the small of my back; I'm wearing my -and his- favorite suit, a viridian outfit showing a bit of decolletage for him, the rest hidden away with a black lace camisole underneath; the skirt's a bit shorter than I normally wear, I have a pair of tooled brown leather thigh boots on, and a hidden dagger in a thigh sheath underneath my skirt. I look nothing like her, and for that, I am rather glad. I can't help but fiddle with my wedding ring,- one that matches his, a deep green stone in a gold setting-, though, as my nerves grow.
The guard speaks, and we rise from our seats and face the curtain, but stop before going through. I can hear the crowd outside, can feel the air of anticipation through the blood red velour -they were some cheap cotton before we redid the place, just to get rid of everything about her. A shard of light comes through an opening, resting on his new suit. Gone is the black he would wear all the time while he worked for her, gone is the long hair I would play with and she would scorn; now, he wears an Italian orange business suit, immaculate and crisp, with an evergreen vest, crimson tie, and crème formal shirt underneath, paired with tooled black leather shoes; his hair is cropped close, but with a good bit of layer to it, enough for me to mess with.
He peeks outside, ebony eyes squinting in the difference of the light, and frowns, “Well, the crowd's not going to get any smaller, I suppose. I believe we should go out before I lose my nerve.” Even with the 'nerve', he's squeezing my hand tight, and I clinch tighter. He starts to step forward, but then wraps an arm around me and kisses me. After a moment, he breaks away, and I ask what it was for. He replies, his voice deepening, becoming rich, dark and succulent, smooth, but with a hint of his spice for me, like a fine wine being poured out for me to drink it all in, “That's for helping me to become stronger this past year...no, not just this year...our entire time as friends, and more. Now,” here he switches back to his normal voice, full of command and strength of body and will, “let us become stronger.”
We walk through the curtains, and are met with the sight of a legion of Rockets from all ranks, and they all silence when they see us come to a stop before the balcony railing, the railing that hides our intertwined fingers.
I squeeze his hand once in the still quiet, and he begins:
“When the Founder created this organization, she strived for only monetary gain as her goal, and while money can be a end of itself, I believe that it will be better for this organization, this Team Rocket, to use it for a much better end: Power. The power to rule over the people of this region, the entire corrupt Pokémon Nation, and then, soon, power over the entire world. I know that there are many of you who thought the Founder was weak, and that she has left the organization in a ruin of its past glory a decade prior. I trust that you will never find me lacking in strength for the duration of my reign as you did hers. As for this corrupt government that rules over us, in time, as we grow in power we shall take over it. It will start slowly- a town here, a city there-, but in time we will grow strong enough to overthrow even the highest government itself, and our Pokémon powerful enough to depose even the Indigo Plateau!” There is a wave of unrest across the crowds.
'Could the Team really become that powerful?'
'Even if we don't, it's more than Madame Boss ever aspired to!'
He raises a hand, and the people silence, “My name is Giovanni, your new leader...” I hear a quiet sound behind us, and, in one fluid motion, turn, block the bodyguard/assassin's dagger with my own, get below his defense and stab the rose-hilted blade into his throat. He gurgles as the blood spurts out, blending with the red enamel rose on the pommel, and collapses to the chill white marble. I turn back, wiping the blood from my face before doing so, and for a moment my husband stares at me, before giving me a private smile and turning back to the surprised crowd below, “...and this is your new Second-in-Command, Seren: 'Madame Rocket', if you prefer.” -here I nod- “Grant us your allegiance, and I swear that this organization will rise from the ashes the Founder left them in, and from the darkness before the dawn, we will create a White Tomorrow!”
The crowd bursts into deafening applause, and we walk back into the room to start our first objective of figuring out who ordered the failed assassination, but not before collapsing into each other's arms, happily exhausted, as we realize we are finally on our way to being free of her.
Viam Inveniam Aut Faciam:
I will find a way, or I will make one.
Enjoy!
18. Bare
Characters: Giovanni, Seren, Madame Boss
Pov: Seren
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Baring your soul isn't as difficult if you trust the one you're baring it to.
18. Bare
Characters: Giovanni, Seren, Madame Boss
Pov: Seren
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Baring your soul isn't as difficult if you trust the one you're baring it to.
And how far would you go to protect the one you love?
Inspired by Wordsnatcher's fic. You are awesome!
Italics in the first part is Madame Boss
First part is when they're about 30, so 13 years before current stories.
Neshama: Hebrew word that means “soul”, “My soul”, used when referring to the idea that a person and their mate are one soul.
Ken: “yes” in Hebrew
Ahuvi: “My love”, same language
Ametista: Italian for "Amethyst", here used as a pet name describing her eyes
With extreme calmness, I want to keep existing within the hell of violent black anger.
While forming a miracle in the frozen hellfire, let me adorn thine neck with a necklace made of steel.
Oh, 'great gift of god' (Ha!),
Kneel down before me, I am controlling thee,
And I will tie thee to my white feet with hardened chains of steel.
Bow down to the earth, kneel before me.
Listen to my divine words,
“Deep inside the black abyss, the darkness burns its flame of sinful destruction.”
The bottom of hell reflects thee,
Devote thy demonic name, thy true name to me.
Because thou belong to me,
Because I know thine demonic name, thy true name.
“The wound carved unto thine body will leave a scar that never disappears.”
Even if thou struggle, it would be useless, now is too late.
"The shackles of binding, the chains of thorns.”
Thou art the prisoner of mine.
Entangled in those arms
“Turn unto a song,”
Thy pale fingertip
I shall become the hardened chains of steel that bind thee
I shall become the thorny tendrils that torment thee
I shall become the silver sword that cuts on thine body
I shall become everything...
~~~~~~~~
“I can't do it.” My husband says, looking down at the floor, head in hands, as we sit in the waiting room in the courthouse.
The lawyer balks, “But Mr. Rochat, if you don't testify, your mother...”
I glare at him, and he stops, “Don't you ever call her that again. It's Ms. Moretti from now on, are we clear?”
“Y-Yes, crystal clear, Mrs. Rochat,” he gulps, “If you don't testify, sir, it is very possible that your...Ms. Moretti will get off on a lesser charge.”
“Don't you think I know that!?” Giovanni snaps, jet eyes flashing, crushing the empty glass in his hand into nothing more than shards.
“Perhaps he could write it, and I could speak on his behalf?” I offer, massaging my husband's shoulders until he stops clenching all of the muscles, dropping the broken crystals into a nearby trashcan, the slivers plink-plinking at the bottom.
“Unfortunately, since the defense will want to cross-examine...”
“Then let me stand beside him.”
The lawyer sighs, “Sorry...if he had mental trouble...”
I reach across the table and grab him by the shirt, “She sexually assaulted him! I happen to know very painfully how mentally jarring being raped is, and one of the times was by her; would you like me to describe it in detail?!” He squeaks out a negative, and I let him go, “thought so.”
He hurriedly fixes his tie, “Um, I'll have to ask the judge... Could you grant me a moment?” I nod, and he walks off.
There's silence for a moment, then I hear a quiet “Did she really attack you?” from my husband.
“Yeah, when I was recovering from being raped during the war, as well. Remember when I had to go on missions for her?” -Nod- “it was during one of those. That's one of the reasons it took longer than I wanted for recovering mentally.”
He grips my hand in his, “Why did you never...”
“Because she threatened you and our daughter, simple as that.” I laugh bitterly, and he stares at me, “You know, if this trial didn't come up, I probably would have taken her out myself.”
He raises an brow, “You seriously would have assassinated her?”
I shrug, “That was my idea, and Robin and Miyamoto and most of the executives were agreeing with it, saying she was leading the Team into ruin. Unfortunately, Miya and Robin were sent on a suicide mission to find that damned Mew.” I brush my black hair out of my eyes, “Would you have agreed to it, had I told you before?”
He's quiet for a second, “I'm not sure. Up until she actually...well, you know, I think part of me hoped it was all a ruse or something created by her getting sick all those years ago.”
“I'm not sure the 'stroke' wasn't a ruse.”
“True...” he sighs, “Up until now, I didn't think she could hurt me like this. It's not like I consciously trusted her anymore.”
“She birthed you...it sort of comes ingrained in the DNA to trust the one who gives us life, even someone as terrible as her.”
He chuckles humourlessly, “Heh, you know, I faced the strongest people in the war, been on dangerous missions with you, been hit by bomb shrapnel.... I've waltzed with death many times, and it still doesn't scare me half as bad as the woman in that room does.”
The lawyer comes back in, “Well?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, he cannot allow it...”
“Benzona...” I curse under my breath, “Who's the judge?”
“Sasaki. Why?”
I smile innocently, “Oh, no reason, just curious. Could you leave us for a moment?”
“Of course, but please do not take much longer, the trial will start soon.”
He leaves, and I grin at my husband, “Well, there may be a silver lining here, at least.”
Giovanni sits back, closing his eyes, “What's that, Ahuvi?”
“This judge is new, got elected after she was arrested.”
“In other words?”
I push my glasses back up, “She probably hasn't had sufficient time to influence him, like the other judges. He also hasn't had enough time to become corrupted by the power, like the others.”
For the first time since the incident, his eyes start to show a faint sign of hope, “So if she hasn't had a chance to influence him... we stand a chance of her not going free.”
“Yes, hopefully...here,” I remove my necklace, a Italian crafted Star of David he got me many years ago, when we were on our honeymoon, a first way of merging our cultures and hearts, something we've done often over the years, “Take this. May it bring you the same strength it has given me.”
He smiles and puts it in his pocket, “thanks, Sery. I don't think you have any idea what your support means to me.”
“I'm sure I have a clue,” I chuckle, when the lawyer sticks his head back in, “what is it?”
“We need to start the trial now, or we have to reschedule...”
“Might as well get this over with, Neshama,” He speaks the last word quietly, but with all the love and support it brings with it, the idea of our souls being one and the same.
I nod, and kiss him on the lips, “let's finish this.”
The trial begins, and when it comes time for him to testify, he squeezes my hand again before slowly taking the stand. He gets through it with less difficulty than we expected, occasionally stopping to keep himself calm. But even with our testimony, it seems she might have had just enough time to skew the judge, because instead of the fullest extent of the law, she gets her insanity plea not only recognized, but accepted. Damn her, and damn the stupid judge!
After the trial, I convince them to allow me a word with her, though it's in front of a bunch of guards. And in front of them, she laughs at me, “Well, I certainly hope you won't be taking a job as an attorney anytime soon. You're as pathetic of a girl as you always have been, Seren, too scared to get the job done.” So she did know about the assassination plan. Hmph, no matter.
So in front of them, I growl in her ear, “Then let this pathetic girl tell you something. If I ever see your face outside of that asylum, I will blow it off, personally.”
She guffaws as they lead her away, “Forget it, you wouldn't put your family in risk doing something that ballsy!” And the police car drives off with her in tow.
“We'll see about that...note to self: figure out how to obtain immunity...” I mutter as I go to tend to my poor husband.
~~~~~
A few months later, and I notice that my Vanni's recovery isn't going as smoothly as it could be. Now I can say from experience that it is rather rough to recuperate after such a traumatic event, but one day, I notice something disturbing.
I look like her.
The same black hair, the same style of suits...I become sick just thinking about it. Perhaps this is why the recovery is slow... So, to rid myself of her image, I change my look just enough to destroy the resemblance, even dyeing and cutting my hair from my lower back, all the way up to my shoulders; my hair is now deep mahogany, my suits are changed to shorter cuts that flatter my figure more, and I buy a pair of boots. She never wore boots, even in the winter.
When I go to show him, I see him sitting on the couch playing with our five children quietly. It is bittersweet to see, since I know they will never get to play with the twins I lost after he was attacked, but I am glad I have these beautiful children.
I come up to him, he looks me up and down, and frowns, “Your hair and clothes... what'd you do to them?”
I give him a little smile, “I, I didn't want my appearance to make things harder for your recovery...so I changed how I look.”
“Your appearance?” He looks rather confused. He gently shoos the kids out as he figures this will need to be a private conversation, but not before our oldest kisses him on the cheek, “What was that for, Rosy?” He asks.
Our little 9-year-old, Rosa-Bree, smiles sweetly, “For you to get better,” -At the raised brow, she goes on- “Mommy said your heart's in pain, so I kissed you to make it better.”
As she runs out, he keeps his confused look, “My 'heart's in pain'?”
I grimace, “She must have overheard me say your 'soul is crying out' to Avi...” My father triples as not only my father, but as our Rabbi and counselor, during this time and others.
He gently pulls my hand so I sit beside him, “So...why the sudden change in appearance?”
I explain, “well, I know I look like...her... a bit, so I changed how I look so...so you won't be reminded of her.”
He frowns, “Seren, what are you talking about? You don't look like her at all,” At my own confused look, he continues, “Yes, you both have wavy blue-black hair; yes, you're both tall, and yes, you're both beautiful, you devastatingly so. You don't look alike at all to me, though. I know some others have commented on a resemblance, but to me, there is no comparison,” he smiles, and I can see all the sadness reflected in it, “It would be like comparing light and darkness, my love. I see so much love and life and light in you...her, not so much.”
He stops for a moment before continuing, “I suppose one way to put it would be this: When either of you enter a room, everyone stops and stares. With you...you light up the room, and you are resplendent. There is a sense of welcome there, and everyone feels comfortable. When she enters the room...this feeling of dread and danger fills the place, the air becomes thick with tension -god, does that bring back countless memories. And she is beautiful, oh yes, there is no question about it...but there is always such a deadly feeling to her, like she would think nothing of stabbing you in the back and whistle as she was walking away.” He chuckles, but there is little humour to it. Oh, how I miss his carefree laughter! “At least with you, the worst air I get is mischief, like you're going to grab me from behind, tell me something risqué you want to do with me, and then drag me off to do it...But I'm getting ahead of myself. The point is, my dear,” he takes my hand in his, “You look nothing like her, so don't feel like you are slowing my recovery by simply being the woman I have come to love so much. I know most of the time I am around things that remind me of her, and I get agitated quickly and lose my patience...”
“Hence the bad mood when you think about heading Team Rocket?”
He struggles with a flash of anger, before continuing carefully, “Exactly. I would refuse, but...It is what I was raised to do, and...I want to prove her wrong. She always said, even as we were children, I would be weak, that I wouldn't be able to raise a family or run the company, hers or my father's...I want to prove her wrong so badly, Seren. I want that power, that feeling of showing her from a distance that I am so much better than she believed me to be. So much stronger than anyone ever believed.” He kisses me, “and that's where I must thank you. You and my father are the only ones who ever saw me as anyone else besides my mother's son. Everyone else saw me as always in her shadow, nothing more. You just saw me as a friend, and that's all I've ever wanted...”
“Well, you've always believed in me, too. So, thank you, my love.” I say, kissing him back gently.
We sit in silence for a moment, petting our Persians, letting it all sink in, when he speaks again, “Seren?”
“Ken?”
“Thank you as well... for being my stronghold, my shelter when I feel so vulnerable...so bare.”
~~~
The words echo in my head as we sit in a room, the only other person a bodyguard. A year later, and my hair is its regular color and has grown back to its normal length past the small of my back; I'm wearing my -and his- favorite suit, a viridian outfit showing a bit of decolletage for him, the rest hidden away with a black lace camisole underneath; the skirt's a bit shorter than I normally wear, I have a pair of tooled brown leather thigh boots on, and a hidden dagger in a thigh sheath underneath my skirt. I look nothing like her, and for that, I am rather glad. I can't help but fiddle with my wedding ring,- one that matches his, a deep green stone in a gold setting-, though, as my nerves grow.
The guard speaks, and we rise from our seats and face the curtain, but stop before going through. I can hear the crowd outside, can feel the air of anticipation through the blood red velour -they were some cheap cotton before we redid the place, just to get rid of everything about her. A shard of light comes through an opening, resting on his new suit. Gone is the black he would wear all the time while he worked for her, gone is the long hair I would play with and she would scorn; now, he wears an Italian orange business suit, immaculate and crisp, with an evergreen vest, crimson tie, and crème formal shirt underneath, paired with tooled black leather shoes; his hair is cropped close, but with a good bit of layer to it, enough for me to mess with.
He peeks outside, ebony eyes squinting in the difference of the light, and frowns, “Well, the crowd's not going to get any smaller, I suppose. I believe we should go out before I lose my nerve.” Even with the 'nerve', he's squeezing my hand tight, and I clinch tighter. He starts to step forward, but then wraps an arm around me and kisses me. After a moment, he breaks away, and I ask what it was for. He replies, his voice deepening, becoming rich, dark and succulent, smooth, but with a hint of his spice for me, like a fine wine being poured out for me to drink it all in, “That's for helping me to become stronger this past year...no, not just this year...our entire time as friends, and more. Now,” here he switches back to his normal voice, full of command and strength of body and will, “let us become stronger.”
We walk through the curtains, and are met with the sight of a legion of Rockets from all ranks, and they all silence when they see us come to a stop before the balcony railing, the railing that hides our intertwined fingers.
I squeeze his hand once in the still quiet, and he begins:
“When the Founder created this organization, she strived for only monetary gain as her goal, and while money can be a end of itself, I believe that it will be better for this organization, this Team Rocket, to use it for a much better end: Power. The power to rule over the people of this region, the entire corrupt Pokémon Nation, and then, soon, power over the entire world. I know that there are many of you who thought the Founder was weak, and that she has left the organization in a ruin of its past glory a decade prior. I trust that you will never find me lacking in strength for the duration of my reign as you did hers. As for this corrupt government that rules over us, in time, as we grow in power we shall take over it. It will start slowly- a town here, a city there-, but in time we will grow strong enough to overthrow even the highest government itself, and our Pokémon powerful enough to depose even the Indigo Plateau!” There is a wave of unrest across the crowds.
'Could the Team really become that powerful?'
'Even if we don't, it's more than Madame Boss ever aspired to!'
He raises a hand, and the people silence, “My name is Giovanni, your new leader...” I hear a quiet sound behind us, and, in one fluid motion, turn, block the bodyguard/assassin's dagger with my own, get below his defense and stab the rose-hilted blade into his throat. He gurgles as the blood spurts out, blending with the red enamel rose on the pommel, and collapses to the chill white marble. I turn back, wiping the blood from my face before doing so, and for a moment my husband stares at me, before giving me a private smile and turning back to the surprised crowd below, “...and this is your new Second-in-Command, Seren: 'Madame Rocket', if you prefer.” -here I nod- “Grant us your allegiance, and I swear that this organization will rise from the ashes the Founder left them in, and from the darkness before the dawn, we will create a White Tomorrow!”
The crowd bursts into deafening applause, and we walk back into the room to start our first objective of figuring out who ordered the failed assassination, but not before collapsing into each other's arms, happily exhausted, as we realize we are finally on our way to being free of her.
Viam Inveniam Aut Faciam:
I will find a way, or I will make one.