[X] My Assistant

[Umbrae Calamitas]

Casper clenched his jaw together to keep from saying anything that would get him into trouble. He recognized two of the people who arrived as being pretty close to his mother. Any wrong word for him - any word, wrong or otherwise - would get back to her without a doubt, but saying anything smart in front of these two especially might well end with him getting a busted lip. Or worse. And they wouldn't do it here. They'd wait until he was alone, maybe walking home from work. Or he'd get back to his apartment and find the lights out, and them waiting for him inside.

Sometimes, he really hated the connections his mother had. Sometimes, he even hated her.

He refused to meet any of their eyes. In his peripheral vision, he could see the sneer on Henry's lips as the man recalled his Breloom. Fiona, too, was smiling at him with that cruel little smirk she reserved for the lowest of creatures. Her scolipede curled about her legs and she ran a hand over it in a gesture he had seen her use before around men and women alike. In a brief flash of embarrassment, he hoped Olivia wasn't looking at her, not that she would connect him with Fiona at all, but...

He shook his head, turning to his pokemon.

Sheut had turned to him, tilting his mask in an expression of curiosity. It wasn't the pokemon's fault his mother had decided to turn the yamask into a tool. Casper pulled out the pokeball and recalled the creature with a quiet "Good job, Sheut." He recalled Strings, as well, the shuppet having finally fallen unconscious despite an utterly stubborn resolve to keep fighting.

So engrossed was he in the retrieval of his pokemon that he didn't notice Fiona had stepped up to him. He jumped when her hand landed on his chest and he retreated quickly, stumbling over his own feet in his rush.

She smiled at him, that coy little grin that bared too many teeth, for all the smaller it was. "That was quite a battle, Ghost. You've picked up a few new moves since last we've seen you." Her voice was a sultry purr that made him cold and hot at once, and she pressed herself closer to him, despite his attempts to retreat. "Really, I find myself curious as to what else you've learned in the company of these zealots." Her hand found his chest again and her fingers splayed across it. "You always were a little rebel."

Casper jerked his body away, dislodging her hand. She looked up and smiled at his glare, and laughed.

"Still the little rebel, I see. I always did like a fighter."

"I have a girlfriend," he murmured, quietly enough that only she would hear. "And even if I didn't, I have some issues with dating someone old enough to be my grandmother."

Fiona's eyes flashed and her tone turned icy, dangerous. "Careful with that tongue of yours, dear, or you might lose it." She patted him gently on the cheek. "If your little pet wasn't here, I'd slap you, but since she is, I won't break your cover for you. I'm not foolish enough to cross your mother. You might do to remember what happens to people who do, before you do anything foolish like grow attached to this little game you're playing." She brushed a finger under his chin, causing his to jerk his head up.

With a smile, she turned and left, following the other disguised figures leading Twycross away. Casper wondered what his mother would do with a Rebel in her hands, and then decided he didn't want to know.

"Come on, Ghost."

Casper turned to Olivia, finding her looking at him. He wondered how much of that conversation with Fiona she had seen.

"Let's get back to headquarters. This mission is finished."

It was impossible to tell with her - she was so closed off. She never let any emotion out, which made reading her an infuriating practice in futility. His mother, at least, had different levels of disappointment, aggravation, and disgust. Olivia had nothing. Her face was a brick wall without the cheerful crevices and crannies that gave it character.

Casper shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rolled Strings' pokeball in his fingers. Fainted. All of his pokemon, save the one he hated using because of his mother's god-modding, were unconscious. Ludicrous. He was an absolute joke. His lips turned down in a silent, self-inflicted snarl. If he'd been better, he could have held out longer, given Olivia's pokemon a better chance at attacking with trickery. The two sly creatures were built for the stealthy, quiet attacks of rogues, not the onslaught of direct attacks that they had been so frequently using of late. He should have been a foil to her, a balance.

Instead, he was another burden on her shoulders, unable to handle his own battle without direct interference from her. Isra was unconscious because he hadn't been able to take on the pokemon that hers were weak against. Saying that he needed to protect her would have been insulting, but he should at least been able to help her. Instead, he was a weak spot - a wound easily discovered and assaulted to further weaken their team.

Team - ha! What a joke! Fiona was right, he was becoming used to this sort of thing. He was forgetting it was a ploy. Olivia wasn't his partner and he wasn't a rebel. He was a Magma-spy, working things so he could get the information he needed to save Sarah. That was all he needed to do. He didn't need to worry about being a foil for Olivia or keeping her pokemon from being hurt. He just needed to do his job well enough that he would stay important and on the up-take. He didn't want to become comfortable with it, he didn't want to starting liking it, because then it would all fall apart.

His hand clenched tightly around Strings' pokeball. What the hell was he trying to tell himself? He was starting to like this! The idea of fighting for something that you believed in without it being pushed on you by someone who had belittled you your whole life... he liked the idea! He even liked Olivia, annoying as she was. He wasn't too fond of Isra, but Nyx wasn't bad. The zorua was quiet and sneaky, and he could relate. She reminded him a little of Strings, really.

And Strings like Olivia. He bet Hamlet even liked her a bit, though it was hard to tell. Hamlet acted like he didn't like Casper half the time. Which made sense, since Casper wasn't who he really was...

He wondered if... no. No, he wasn't going to think about it. It was stupid to even consider it. Different circumstances, same circumstances, it didn't matter. Olivia and Thomas would never have gotten along. She was an emotionless robot and he was... perfectly useless.

"Couldn't even take out a stupid fighting-type," he muttered angrily to himself. And he should have. He should have taken out the sawk so Isra and Nyx could focus on the pokemon his ghosts had trouble hitting. Stupid! His mother was right - he just wasn't fast enough.

[Master Houndoom]

"Couldn't even take out a stupid fighting type."

Olivia heard this clearly, and sighed. It was true. She had had, in essence, three pokémon fighting that one fighting type, and in the end he had nearly defeated the entire team of them. Olivia had trained Nyx and Isra in stealth, but their battle training had been lax, only enough to get them away. Even if she had not anticipated needing them for the kind of battles she had read about and transcribed, she had neglected an important part of their training.

Despite this, she was proud of them. They may not have the training, but they had the heart of it.

She looked down at Nyx, who looked up at her with worried eyes. The zorua looked back at Casper and snorted, softly, the loudest she had been, ever, but it seemed she had agreed with the young man. Olivia nodded, once.

"Then we will have to rectify this. If this... odd arrangement is to continue, I will need to get stronger. Perhaps my new addition will help with that. He was fierce, but needed polish. She remembered a movie she had watched (Brittany, of course, had coerced her into it), and remembered the main character of that movie having needed to learn humility, making him into a mighty warrior.

He had a background in Norse mythology, as well, and mythologies had always been an interest of Olivia's in school.

She touched the ball in her pocket, the newest one, next to Isra's, and, mentally, named her newest pokémon, a ritual she had done with Nyx and Isra when she'd first caught them. Thor. Your name is Thor.

She looked back at Casper, who either wasn't listening, or wasn't reacting. That was an oddity that would have to stop very soon. He didn't know if he was angry that she couldn't have pulled her own in that battle, or because he had been accused of being a traitor, or because that woman had gotten the better of him, giving him a taste of how he sometimes treated women in the office. But him, being quiet, much to her internal mortification, did not sit well with her.

"I will take our pokémon to the healing station, if you'd like. And I will write up the report. With your pictures and my drawings, I'm sure we can count this as a success. Besides, we were able to aid in the apprehension of a traitor..."

He remained silent, and that...

That wasn't right.

She wished she knew what to do about it.

[Umbrae Calamitas]

Casper's mind was elsewhere. He should have been paying attention, since they had just recently been attacked by another member of their... of Olivia's faction, of the Rebellion. He didn't doubt that Fiona and her crowd would have checked the perimeter and cleared out anyone lying in wait, but Casper wouldn't ever suggest trusting her not to be lurking in a shadow like some lusting troll, waiting for a turned back.

So he should have been paying attention as they walked back down the streets. If he had, he might have heard any of the things that Olivia said, but he wasn't listening. His mind kept going over what he was going to have to deal with later that night when he got back to his apartment. If someone wasn't already there waiting for him, which wasn't an impossibility, then he'd have a video conversation with his mother.

He was so not looking forward to it.

The sight of the unassuming door that led to the Rebellion's base did call his attention back to the present, though it would be difficult for him to say whether this was to be appreciated or not. So it was that he heard Olivia's comment about taking their pokemon to the healer.

"Oh," he murmured, halting so abruptly he nearly lost his balance. His right hand was tangled in his pocket, the dark stretch of fabric that looped about his sleeve caught on the edge of his pocket. He'd been gripping Strings' pokeball tighter than he had realized and his fingers were cramped.

Murmuring under his breath, a whispered apology for making her wait that he wouldn't recall saying, a curse as he tried to untangle the strip of fabric from his jacket, Casper pulled Strings' pokeball from his pocket. He handed that over to Olivia, along with Hamlet's and the poochyena's. After a moment of hesitation, he also gave her Sheut's. Despite still being conscious, the yamask deserved a trip to the healer's, as well. Once she had the pokeballs stored on her person, he handed over the camera he had used to take the photographs for their mission.

His hands felt remarkably empty once she took the camera from him and he shoved them back into his jacket pockets for lack of anything better to do. He felt his fingers curl in the soft fabric lining their insides, but he didn't allow his discomfort to show outwardly any further. There was no reason for the uncomfortable sensation in his stomach.

"What do you want me to do?" he murmured, then realized that he was staring at the floor and scuffing his shoe a little. He straightened his posture immediately and raised his head, meeting her eyes. She showed no expression.

"You can sit at my desk and wait. I will gather the paperwork for the return of the camera."

Casper's lips curled at the mention of paperwork. Paperwork sucked. He'd have to write a mission report, too, especially since he and Olivia had split up during the mission and he couldn't lean on her report to cover what had occurred when he wasn't present. He was going to have to deal with his encounter with Sarah, too. He couldn't include that in his report, but he had to make sure he didn't leave any gaps in time when writing it. And if Olivia saw her when she was leaving... he hated writing mission reports. Life as a Rebel would be so much easier if they took a leaf out of Star Trek's book and let their mission reports be voice recorded. That would be pretty badass, actually. Stardate... how did one determine the stardate?

Oh crap. He'd thought life as a Rebel, didn't he? Casper sighed internally. I'm so screwed.

Olivia turned to go, clearly not noting his internal struggle, or instead choosing to ignore his clear hatred of paperwork, which was a natural hatred that everyone who wasn't part-Vulcan or Olivia suffered from.

She made it a step before she hesitated, which she didn't often do. The action, therefore, caught his attention.

Olivia turned around and straightened her already-perfect posture. "Mr. Weard."

Oh crap.

"In light of Mr. Twycross's allegations, I want you to know that I believe you are a good person. Certainly, you have your moments where I find myself questioning your actions and the choice to place you in a position as an agent, though that is not a decision that I am entitled to make judgment on. Even then, I find that the results of your actions more than explain your own choices." She hesitated, exhaled and drew a steady breath, the only indication that she was feeling anything, and even then she might have only decided that continued breathing was a human necessity.

"You should not concern yourself with the suggestions others make that you might be a less-than-truthful person. Even those that I may have made in times of... stress. You have proven yourself intelligent and capable of performing your job."

Casper stared at her a moment, startled. Frankly, he was waiting for the ending ceremony music to start and Olivia to offer him a medal of honor or something. He wondered who would stand in as the wookie...

Olivia turned and walked away.

"Um." Casper looked after her, startled. She hadn't sounded quite... finished. Oh. He should have said thank you.

Hands still in his pockets, Casper rolled from the heels of his feet to the balls and back again, looking around. All right, Olivia told him to wait...

He wandered over to her desk. It was aggravatingly pristine, papers all situated neatly in their proper little bins. Casper poked her chair with his shoe. No wheels. That was boring.

He glanced around the office. Everything was really quiet, except for the occasional ringing telephone, and that strange nameless person who was always coughing in the background. Casper flopping down in the chair and peered around the desk. He'd tug open drawers and look inside, only that seemed... really rude. Normally it wouldn't bother him, but Olivia had just been really nice, saying all of that stuff... it was nice. He didn't want to go invading her privacy. She might take it back. Or she'd get that disappointed look on her face that wasn't really a look but was pretty clearly disappointed. He wondered if other people noticed it. Could they tell when she was disappointed? Maybe he was just really good at picking up that look.

He bumped the mouse to her computer and the black screen disappeared, replaced by an equally boring white screen - how dull - though this one was interspersed with various icons. Mostly spreadsheets and documents. Boring. He scrolled through the programs, looking for Solitaire. He'd even settle for Minesweeper, though he hated that game. No one ever won at Minesweeper. The computer was a cheating cheater that cheated.

No Solitaire, no Minesweeper. The games were a lie.

Ooh! Music!

He opened the music selection. There was nothing interesting - Olivia was clearly one of those aggravating law-abiding citizens - he knew this already - who never illegally downloaded music on a work computer because it meant not getting viruses on your home computer. Too bad. If the server went down from a Trojan, she could probably get a day off work. What did Olivia do on days off work?

Casper blinked, momentarily distracted by the possibilities. Maybe he'd follow her home someday, just to see. Might be interesting. Might even be fun, if her work persona was majorly different from her casual-persona. He knew a few people that did that. You'd think they were two different people.

A violently purple and green album popped up on the computer. Some kind of weird, generic reggae music or something. Lots of drums. Casper clicked on it and scoured the desk for speakers. He turned them on.

Yep. Lots of drums. Ooh, a rattle... was that humming? Chanting! Chanting could be fun! Jumping up from the chair, Casper climbed up on the desk and cranked the speakers up to a higher volume (not quite full, since he valued his hearing as one of his not-horrible senses).

"Hey, boring people! Come on, that's right, it's Dance Party Time!" He pulled a few ridiculous-looking moves on top of Olivia's desk, moving with the strange rattle-drum-chanting beat of the music. He saw a few scowls in his direction, but he ignored them. Scowlers were usually boring people, and boring people were boring.

"Vanessa!" he called, as a dark-haired girl walked down the aisle. She was in charge of PR or something. Did the Rebellion have a public relations department? "Vanessa, I bet you're a great dancer!"

"Get over yourself, Ghost," she called back, not rudely, rolling her eyes. Maybe there could be something there. She didn't yell at him.

"Weard, get off the desk," Boring Bryan said, because he was boring.

Casper turned to regard the short man. He was another file-clerk, like Olivia, only more boring, with a bigger temper. "Come up here and make me, BB," he called. "You win our dance-off and I'll get down. I'll even clean Livvie's desk for her?" He attempted an absolutely horrid rendition of the Moon Walk, made even worse when he tripped over the bins Olivia kept her files in and nearly knocked them off the desk. He took a step back and his foot landed on something not-desk.

The music cut out when Bryan turned the speakers off abruptly, but Casper was looking down at where he had been stepping. There was a pretty hat laying on the desk that he hadn't noticed. He shuffled off it, wondering when Olivia had been wearing a hat. He didn't think he'd seen her. It looked really pretty, only bent sort of oddly, like his foot had snapped an important part in it and maybe broken it. He wondered if maybe it was reparable...

He jumped down from the desk and turned toward it, peripherally noticing Bryan's glare, and seeing Brittany staring at him, not looking amused by his dancing in the least. In fact, she might have looked a little murderous, though he was trying not to look at her too closely.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back from the desk. His head came up with a sneering grin on his face. "Who leaves their hat just sitting around in such a dangerous place, yeah? That wasn't smart. Anyone could just come along and..." He made a squishing gesture with his hands. "Stomp stomp." He shoved them back in his pockets and looked up, grinning cheekily.

Then he spotted Olivia.

[Master Houndoom]

“He was perfectly exemplary.”

Wigsby’s brows would have disappeared into his hairline, if he’d had one for them to disappear into. Olivia simply watched him digest the information as he saw fit. Whether or not he believed her was of no consequence; her opinion on matters of her increasingly frequent field missions certainly hadn’t been.

She pressed her lips together. Such thoughts were hardly necessary. Perhaps a bit of Casper was rubbing off on her. She would have to nip this in the bud.

“He gave you no trouble? He didn’t disrupt the mission?”

“Sir, I’ve reported at length how our styles are not conducive to each other on missions. That being said, we are getting used to each other’s differences. He has done nothing I am not able to tolerate.”

Wigsby nodded, distracted. Olivia leaned back in her seer, steepling her fingers in front of her. He looked at her, also leaning back in his own seat. “And you were attacked by Miles Twycross..?”

Olivia nodded, slowly, watching his eyes. Already she could see the disbelief in them. “Yes, sir. He seemed to believe that Casper was a traitor to our cause.” She watched as Wigsby’s left brow rose, as if to ask if she really doubted this. She found herself wanting to scowl at it. “I’ve worked with him, Sir. At your direction, I might add. He has never given me cause to doubt him.”

Wigsby looked at her for a long moment afterwards, Olivia holding his gaze. It was a few minutes, but finally Wigsby looked down at his desk. “Your report..?”

“On your desk by tomorrow afternoon, of course.

He nodded slowly, then sighing, leaned forward and put his head in his hands, an uncharacteristic gesture from the man.

“And what happened with Twycross?”

Olivia pressed her lips together. He had just verified her report would come in, and now he was asking for more information. Still, answering wouldn’t hurt anything.

“We were on the verge of losing a battle-“

“You battled him?”

“He attacked Mr. Weard. Using his pokemon directly against him. There was no recourse.”

He gave her a look, as if catching a small child explaining they didn’t have a choice but to cross the street without an adult. “You could have run.”

“If you believe that, sir, you don’t know me, or Mr. Weard, very well.”

Wigsby sighed, then leaned back. “All right. And then..?”

“Five individuals came and took him into custody. They had pokemon that he couldn’t counter.” She raised her brows, slightly, challenging him to say anything to the contrary. Surprisingly, drying her eyebrows up another millimeter, his face looked pensive.

He waved it away. “All right, Miss Prewitt. Thank you for indulging me.” With that, she stood, knowing she was dismissed.

Stepping outside of the office, the first thing she had heard was the heavy drumbeats, an album she recognized as a gift from Brittany. She really should have known. She had asked him to wait for at her at her desk. She should have been prepared for him not to keep his hands to himself.

At least he was only perusing her music. Not that he would find anything else should he look; her music folder was the only concession she made to having personal information at work, and that was both with Mr. Wigsby’s permission and at the insistence of Brittany.

Casper was up on her desk. Mr. Boran was trying to get him to come down, but was not successful, anymore than Mr. Wigsby would have. She glanced at Brittany, and was surprised to see her gaping, looking apprehensive.

Casper did a little pirouette, and there was a soft crunching noise. Olivia looked down to see what on her desk he had disturbed, and her world froze.

His foot was on her hat. Her mother’s hat.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of it. Casper’s foot rose, but she only registered it as a secondary act. The hat, however, lifted off of the desk and dropped off of his foot. A dent in the crown shoed that the side band had been crushed…

Casper jumped down, and Olivia found herself stumbling forward, walking to her desk to take the hat in her hands. He turned, she could sense he had turned, but she didn’t even look at him.

Her hat- Her mother’s hat, the hat she had worn on the day she had died, was crushed, and Olivia couldn’t breathe, and there was something odd going on with her eyes…

She turned, walking briskly down the hall, out of the building, paying no heed to anyone calling or asking after her. Her eyes were on the last piece of her mother she had left. She felt as crushed as it was.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Brittany didn’t charge, but people scattered before her as she closed the distance between her and Casper. Grabbing his arm as he watched Olivia go, she frog-marched him to the supply closet, slamming the door behind her.

Casper turned, raising his hands. “Why, Br-“ She didn’t let him even begin. Her fist slammed into his solar plexus and stopped him from saying anything at all. He tried to double over, but her fingers curled into the shoulder of his shirt, pushing him up against the wall. Angry tears were just prickling her eyelids now, but she didn’t bother acknowledging him.

“Do you know what you’ve done?!”

She didn’t let him answer, instead shaking him forward and pushing him back against the wall. “Arceus, Casper, you are su- I know you don’t care about anyo-“ She couldn’t get a word out, so she stopped, holding him against the wall and letting her breath come in hisses through her teeth. Finally, she felt she could speak.

“Olivia is my best friend. You understand me? I don’t care what you do to anyone else. Even me. But you’ve hurt her, and I will never forgive you for that.”

She let him go, turning to open the door, when she heard his strained gasp. “What’s… the big deal..?”

She had to resist the urge to punch him again. Instead, she snarled over her shoulder. “That was her mother’s hat.”

She was out the door, following the path Olivia had taken, before he could respond.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She knew it was dark. She didn’t know exactly how long she sat in the apartment, looking down at the crushed hat in her hands, but she knew it was dark, and that means it had been hours. It didn’t really seem to matter. For some reason, nothing seemed to matter, though she did, from time to time, wish that Isra and Nyx were here, pressing their warm bodies against their legs like they did from time to time.

It just didn’t seem worth the effort to go and get them, and that brought some weight to her chest.

Which didn’t seem to matter.

There was a knock on the door. It didn’t matter, but it didn’t stop, either. Finally, she cleared her throat, and made a sound. She didn’t lock her door. She didn’t lock her desk. She should have locked her desk…

The door opened, and a blonde head of hair peeked in, with wide eyes looking until they spotted her on the couch. Brittany let herself in, closing the door behind her. She looked as if she had been crying, and Olivia tilted her head at her before giving her attention back to the ruined hat.

“I’m sorry, L-… Olivia.” Brittany’s voice broke, and Olivia looked at her again.

“Why?”

Brittany bit her lip. “I.. I put the hat on your desk. I… I thought it might cheer you up. Make up for a day with-“

Olivia nodded and looked back down at the hat. She didn’t speak. There was something in her throat preventing it.

“Oh, Livvie,” Brittany whispered, crossing over to her. She sat on the couch, but didn’t lean to hug her as she usually did.

“I’m fine.” She was. She would be. She had survived much, much worse at a much, much younger age. “I’m fine, Brittany.”

Brittany looked at her, mournfully, then reached up and swiped her forefinger along Olivia’s cheek. She held it up, and Olivia blinked.

The finger was wet.

She looked back down at the hat again, seeing for the first time the droplets of water on the fabric of it.

It still didn’t matter.

“I don’t blame you,” she said. That seemed to matter, but then her eyes began to ache and itch, and the pressure in her throat and chest increased.

Brittany put an arm around her, and pulled her to lean against her. It was almost as comforting as having Nyx and Isra there.

It was almost better.

They sat that way until Olivia decided that she needed to sleep. She surprised Brittany by agreeing when the blonde woman asked if Olivia wanted her to stay.

[Umbrae Calamitas]

His initial feeling of self-pity faded quickly enough, lingering long enough for Casper to get his breathing back to normal after the punch to his solar plexus that had nearly brought him to his knees. By the time he was recovered, Brittany had gone, which was just as well. He wouldn't have felt comfortable if she had lingered, and if she had gone to see Olivia after leaving him, then that was good.

He hadn't meant to break the hat. It had been an accident. He supposed that didn't matter. Casper had hacked into the Rebellion's servers a few days into being accepted into their faction, and once he had been teamed with Olivia, he'd read her files. Not everything about her was recorded where he could access it, but there was enough available that he knew her mother had died when she was young, and he could infer that she had been present when something violent had occurred to cause it. He didn't need to know any more than that to know that the hat, if her mother's, had been something incredible special. And his breaking it had been something unforgivable.

Even if it had been an accident. That didn't fix things. It didn't make them right.

He'd slipped from the closet and the building quietly, avoiding people as often as he could and getting outside as quickly as he was able. Some noticed him, of course - Casper never went anywhere without being noticed, it was part of his charm. It wasn't charming at all, especially when he was trying to avoid people. He didn't stop to try and determine whether the looks he was receiving were normally the ones sent him, or if he was receiving a plethora of dark and angry looks because of what had just recently occurred in the office. It didn't really matter, and he didn't want to waste any time trying to figure it out.

He forewent the bus in favor of walking, which afforded him a more likely privacy, and was halfway to his apartment building when he realized he didn't have any of his pokemon with him.

He actually stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to figure out what to do. Olivia had taken them to be healed, and likely they were still at the healer's. He could go back and get them, though he would have to talk to the healer, and who knew what had been passed about since the incident and how much anyone knew. If people were as angry as Brittany had been, the healer might refuse to return his pokemon. Though, that constituted as theft, Casper was fairly sure.

He hated being without his pokemon when he was alone. He wasn't the most physically capable of people and he didn't even carry a taser on him, so he usually relied upon his pokemon to be there if he needed protection or assistance. It wasn't likely he would be mugged on a highly-lit street, but being completely alone allowed the possibility to manifest within his brain with a glee no non-sentient thought should be able to feel.

He continued walking. Really, he just wanted to go home. And he had to talk to his mom yet tonight, and that was always something to look forward to.

The rest of the walk went smoothly. He wasn't mugged and the only other creature he encountered was a wild rattata that squeaked fearfully upon his arrival and ran across the street to hide in an alley. The terror of a smaller creature at his presence even with him lacking his pokemon did nothing to cheer him.

He made his way into the apartment building and up to his apartment, climbing the stairs with the quick efficiency with which he usually handled them. His apartment lacked a proper working elevator, which had been broken since he'd gotten the apartment, much like other pieces of the rundown building.

The locks on his door worked, though, and Casper threw the bolt lock and slid the chain lock in place before stripping his jacket off. He shed the rest of his clothes quickly and climbed into the shower.

The water was lukewarm, which was better than cold, but he showered quickly in case that changed, and stepped into his room with a towel wrapped around his waist, searching for boxers.

His laptop was open and his mother's face was visible on the screen.

"Ahh!" Casper jumped, nearly losing the towel, and slid out of the room, ducking behind the doorframe. "What the hell, Mom!" he yelled. "I'm naked here!" It was a testament to how thrown his day had been that he was risking yelling at her, even over a video screen.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Like that makes a difference, he thought viciously.

"Come back in here, Thomas. Explain to me what happened today."

Today. Right, battle, losing, releasing Sheut, getting saved by Fiona and her lot.

Casper stepped back into the room, right hand fisted were the towel was tucked in on itself, making sure it didn't fall from his waist. He walked over at sat down in the desk chair, feeling completely uncomfortable.

"Well?" his mother asked, when nothing was said.

"Someone attacked us. He had high-level pokemon and was too much for my partner and I to take on and we were losing. I didn't know what he was going to do once he beat us, especially since he... wasn't shy about sending his pokemon after me directly." If his mother noticed his hesitation at that part, she said nothing. He imagined she approved of the technique Twycross had utilized. "So I called out Sheut as an extra resource." His mouth itched at calling his pokemon that. "And you sent in your people to neutralize the threat."

She leaned back in her seat, lazing away from the video screen in a way he had never been able to manage. "So you didn't summon your yamask for the express purpose of asking for my aid?"

Casper lifted a shoulder in a half-assed shrug. "It was an added bonus. I needed Sheut's assistance. That you've shoved a video chip in his body that makes you aware of everything going on around him was your decision. It's hardly my fault if you decide I need assistance without my asking and decide to butt in."

"So I'm butting in now?" she asked, her smile cold. "Should I perhaps butt out and leave you to it? You seem to be doing so well on your own." She folded her hands under her chin and leaned forward, and Casper had the terrifying falling sensation in the pit of his stomach which told him he was not as far-removed from her prying eyes as he had hoped.

"Fiona tells me you're beginning to forget who you really work for." Casper swallowed thickly. "She says the role is starting to take its toll. You're acting more the Rebel than the little Magma spy I've sent in my stead. I don't want you to forget who you are, Thomas." He flinched. "I'd be so disappointed if I had to come in and fetch you."

"I haven't forgotten," he said, though his voice didn't sound near as strong as he had intended it to. "You sent me here to do a job. If I'm doing it better than Fiona could have expected, then I'm sorry she's so doubted my acting abilities. She's lucky she didn't ruin the charade, propositioning me like she did in front of my partner."

"Fiona knows what she's doing," his mother said calmly. "Really, if your partner didn't realize who you really were after Miles Twycross's interference, then I daresay Fiona wasn't going to open her eyes." Casper twitched at the mention on Twycross's name, which his mother did not miss. "Yes. We've had a discussion with Mr. Twycross. He's told us quite a lot about you and your partner. He's even been so kind as to tell us how he determined that you were a Magma spy, and I have to say, Thomas, I'm disappointed in you. How many times do you think you can screw up during a mission before someone catches on? Are you trying to make yourself known?"

She waved her hand, casting the thought to the side. "That's not important, at the moment, no. I want to talk about something else. Tell me about your partner, Thomas. I want to know what you find so intriguing about this Olivia Prewitt."

"Leave her alone."

Her eyebrows went up and her lips pulled back in a smile. "Really, now, there's a reaction. What are you worried about, dear? I'm not going to do anything to her. I just want to know how your day went, what your coworkers are like, who your friends are."

"I don't have friends," he spat. "Just... just leave her alone. She's easy to work with and I don't want you to ruin the dynamic."

He saw her cock an eyebrow at him. "I'm listening."

Casper swallowed. He resisted the desire to lick his lips. His mother would know the tell. "She's an emotionless bitch," he said calmly. "She's been traumatized since she was a child and doesn't feel emotions, so they don't interfere with our work. She's not so easily bothered or insulted by the means I use as every other idiot in the Rebellion. She doesn't cause a fuss with the bosses when I decide to go off and do my own thing on the mission, which is necessary if I'm going to keep up appearances for the Rebellion while doing the job you've assigned me. I'm all for a good challenge, but if you take away too many of my assets, you're going to ruin this for both of us, and then we'll be up the creek." He crossed his arms over his chest, shrugging nonchalantly. "So leave her alone, all right? She's useful."

His mother watched him for a while, but then nodded. "All right, I see what you're saying. Don't think I won't be keeping an eye on things, though. I don't trust these random girls you get yourself invested in. If I think this Prewitt is becoming a problem, I will deal with it, asset or not." She smiled cheerfully. "You understand, don't you, Thomas? Mommy's just looking out for you."

"I understand."

"Good boy. I should let you get to bed. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow, furthering the cause for Magma. You're doing such a fine job, too. I enjoyed the pictures you sent of the warehouse you had been investigating."

Casper glanced over at his jacket. He'd put the extra memory card of those photographs in his jacket pocket. He'd look after the video call, but he would bet his next paycheck they wouldn't be there. Someone had pickpocketed him.

He resisted the urge to sigh. "I'm glad you liked them," he murmured.

His mother smiled. "Goodnight, Thomas, dear."

He grimaced and moved to stand up.

"Oh, one more thing." Casper looked back at the video screen to find her staring at him, the facade of happiness gone. "I know you've been refraining from using your yamask on purpose. That's going to stop. That pokemon is there to allow me to see how you are functioning in the field and if I need to make any adjustments to your team to make you a better asset to me. If you don't allow me to see what's going on, Thomas, I may have to give your team a full purge and set you up with completely new pokemon. Neither of us wants that, now do we?"

Casper's fists clenched at his sides. He knew his mother would do it, too - come in and take Hamlet and Strings, all of his pokemon, and give him new ones. Ones that she had chosen, each with their own microchips to allow her to see what was going on, keep him in her sights.

"No ma'am," he said. "I'll make sure Sheut gets his turn on the field tomorrow."

"You do that." The screen went black.

Casper sighed, reaching up and closing the laptop. He ran a hand through his nearly-dried hair as he stood, turning around to go look for his boxers.

There was a black and red pokemon standing behind him, arms loose at his sides, claws sharpened. Casper smiled at it tightly.

"Garrote," he greeted the weavile. "I suppose you're here in case I proved to be too much of a problem."

"Vile," the pokemon intoned, flexing her claws.

"Yes, she is." The pokemon hissed. "I assume I've passed her test, since she didn't give you a signal and I'm not dead." The weavile narrowed her eyes at him in distaste but made no move to gut him. "Right. So how about you get out of my apartment and I'll go back to masturbating to the tune of my mother's displeasure? It makes me so happy to piss her off, you know?"

"Ile," the pokemon muttered, but skittered across the room to the window. She pushed it open and slipped outside. Whether she leapt onto the back of another of his mother's flying pokemon or climbed to the building's roof, he didn't care.

Casper shut the window and locked it. He stood there, leaning his head against it for a while.

He thought he had escaped this. Taking this job - or really, being forced on this job - had allowed him to be away from his mother. He wasn't constantly turning corners, expecting her pokemon to leap out and attack him because she decided his reflexes needed to be tested. He wasn't always ducking for cover behind a computer screen, the only thing he knew how to properly manage, to try and avoid some punishment for simply not being good enough.

Yet here he was, neck-deep in an infiltration mission, pretending to be something he could never be, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how much he wanted it. And still his mother was following him, hounding him, breathing down his neck. Still, her pokemon were slipping into his rooms and popping up around corners, ready to attach him at her first signal.

There was no getting away from her.

He wasn't entirely sure that Casper wasn't becoming the same type of person that Thomas had always been. Never good at much of anything that required stepping away from a computer screen. Certainly not good at social interaction, or battling, or boundaries. He didn't know how to act around people as Thomas, how was Casper supposed to be anything different?

And mistakes, he made so many. And what had happened today... it had been an accident, but that seemed to be what Casper was good at, what Thomas was. A walking accident looking for the most fragile place to happen.

And then Brittany...

Casper had been struck before. He'd be struck again, he knew that. Once this mission was done and everything was revealed, he'd go back to being Thomas and being hunted by his mother's pokemon, attacked by them to test his skills and surely failing every test she tried him with. He wasn't surprised with the knowledge - he knew that was what would happen. He would admit to be exhausted by it, terrified by it, even. There was no escape for him. There never had been.

He'd thought this might be one, being Casper. He could start over, be someone different, live a new life. But there was no new life for him, no starting over. Every attempt would lead him right back to where he had been before. He wasn't Casper, he was Thomas. And Thomas was an ever-erring fuck-up.

He rubbed his chest where Brittany had punched him. It still ached. He could still feel the initial terror of being unable to breathe, his complete weakness at the strike. His lips curled up in a self-deprecating smile. Ass kicked by a girl. At least he knew Brittany could take care of herself if anyone tried to hurt her. And she cared about Olivia, so that meant she would protect her, in case his mother did decide to send someone after her.

He'd have to behave, though, be a good little soldier, to make sure his mother had no reason to go after Olivia. And he owed Olivia an apology. More than an apology, but he didn't know what else he could give her.

He supposed... he could be good. He could be a proper partner. He could try to be... better.

Casper tugged on a pair of boxers and shuffled over to his closet. He had some clothes that were basically professional. Nothing too formal, but something better than his Ghost Jacket or his attempts at being ridiculous. He could wear something suitable tomorrow, go in with plans to do things right. Maybe he'd take Olivia a cup of coffee. No, tea. She drank tea. It wasn't a good enough apology, but it's what he could do.

He didn't mean to hurt her. He didn't want to.

Casper walked over to the bed, flopping down on it. He wasn't good at doing stuff that required not screwing up, though. He tried, but... well.

He'd checked his jacket pockets. No memory card. Someone, or somepokemon, had pickpocketed him. His mother really was never far away, though he suspected it had been Fiona.

He pulled out the ejournal that Sarah had given him and fiddled with it quietly for a moment, before opening it. In the darkness of his too-quiet apartment, he began to read, hoping he could find some way to help her.