Mewtwo sat hunched forward in the hospital waiting room. His tail was sore from a bite, his ribs were broken, and the chair was built for a human two feet shorter then he was.

It was easier to think about the inanities than the fact that he was in a hospital waiting room. Waiting for Brenda.

He didn't control his telepathy the way he normally would. Sharing in the misery of everyone else who was waiting on patients was supposed to remind him that he wasn't alone. It was just making him depressed.

What was he doing here? He was a pokemon, a clone, a mere reflection- why was he sitting here in the hospital, waiting? He should be leaving for the wilderness! Giovanni was- well, the man was dead. He had killed before, destroying the lab where he had been created and studied, but somehow it was different when he didn't take a vindictive satisfaction from murder.

Mewtwo groaned and cradled his head with his paws. He should have been far away by now, and instead he was sitting in a cramped chair.

The doctor peered into the room for a moment before entering. Melanie knew that doctors were supposed to be much more dignified, but the hospital had an officer down on her first night of residency. No one else was available to talk to the cop's partner.

"I have good news, officer. Your partner is with the doctors right now. She's unconscious, but her major injuries are being taken care of."

The officer's neck popped when he looked up. He took a shuddering breath. "She's going to be fine?"

"Fine," she said. The chief neurologist had already taken a look at the policewoman. The unconsciousness had been from the other injuries, not the bruise on the officer's head.

She held out her hand. It was time to get the introductions over with. "I'm Doctor Melanie Copeland."

"Officer Vahan Smith, Detective Johnson's partner."

"Officer Smith," Melanie said, relieved to have a proper title to use, "is there anything that would make you more comfortable? You won't be able to visit your partner for another few hours. We need to stabilize her condition first. Will that be enough time to secure your illusion?"

Officer Smith narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Your illusion. It's flickering," she said, easily meeting his eyes as they flashed between purple and brown. "Stress can do that."

He clenched his fists. "Leave," he hissed.

Melanie folded her arms over her chest. Maybe it was her first night as a resident, but that didn't mean it was going to be her last. She had heard the bets a few doctors made, and was going to prove them wrong.

"Is that how you'll speak to your partner?" Melanie demanded. "Usually, a nurse tags along when a doctor comes to give details. I thought you might want a bit more discretion, since you care enough to put up an illusion at all. This hospital doesn't care how many fingers you have, but you will be no help to your partner if you can't keep a level head."

She couldn't believe she'd just lectured a pokemon. A very smart pokemon, at that- her meowth had never talked to her.

"I doubt the detective would mention it. Unless she were growling at me."

"Mention what?" she asked. "If you want to drop the illusion for a few minutes, I promise I have too much on my mind to stare."

Mewtwo stared at the doctor. Of course he would meet insane people, he thought. Ever since Brenda had shot at him all he'd met were insane humans. First Brenda, who was in a class all to herself, then Alison, and now this Melanie.

Wordlessly, he dropped the illusion. He cradled his head in his paws.

"She'll be fine, you know," Melanie said. "She will be on very heavy painkillers when she wakes up. The building did a number on her, let alone those dragons, but even together the injuries are shy of deadly."

She was just going to hurt, a lot. Mewtwo knew that.

(Her leg looked melted,) he said, only half aware he wasn't bothering to disguise his telepathy. (She won't have to have an amputation, will she?)

"No," Melanie said. "The burns are second-degree- er, they hurt the nerves in the skin and are the most painful kind. She probably will need skin grafts, because of how large the burn is, but she'll have that leg."

(Skin grafts?) He couldn't stop a shudder. (I'll leave it to the doctors to tell her that.)

Melanie smiled, a little. "The doctor who has charge of her case is a jerk. Brilliant, in medicine, but unkind to all who are not in awe of him. From what I've heard, your partner would have no trouble beating him in an argument."

He started to smile, just a little bit. (Believe me, he will be begging to quit by the time she's finished with him. The Detective has a way with words.)

"Do you think she'd be offended if I sent chocolates?" she asked. "If she does half as well, I know that the residents and the entire nursing staff will chip in on a very impressive spread."

(Chocolates are fine, but coffee is better.)


Brenda knew she was in a hospital room. Hospitals were the only place where machines were supposed to make annoying beeping sounds without end. When the beeping stopped, that was when you started worrying.

Brenda had been in her share of hospitals, connected to more then her fair share of heart monitors. She was a homicide cop, which didn't always mean she dealt with the dead or their killers. Sometimes it meant tracking down a trainer's escaped pokemon, getting hit with stun spore, poison powder, or sleeping powder.

She didn't feel like she'd been paralyzed, poisoned, or knocked out. She felt drugged.

Her lips twitched upwards. Later she'd be angry, at the moment, she didn't care.

Life was wonderful. She was alive, the heart monitor was beeping, and her favorite show was on reruns.

Wait… Brenda opened her eyes and frowned. Something was off, but it didn't matter. She was drugged so life was wonderful. She would have cheered, if her ribs hadn't protested with every breath.

Pain was a distant memory. Brenda started humming.


Brenda turned her head and grinned. "Hey, I know you."

Mewtwo nodded, eyes widened slightly. "Yes, Detective, you do."

"That's a heart monitor," she pointed out. "It's measuring my heart beat."

"Yes, Detective. Are you feeling alright?"

"Peachy keen!" Brenda looked around the room. "Is Alison here?"

Was it alright to blanch? 'Peachy keen'- he had never thought he would hear Brenda say something like that. "She went down to the cafeteria, to get food."

"Oh. Does she know you're a vegetarian? Or is it vegan?"

"Vegetarian, and I told her. How do you even know that?"

"'M a detective. 'Sides, I've eaten with you."

"Yes, at the station eatery. The only thing edible was the salad."

"An'," Brenda said, with all the drama of a television lawyer, "I know the contented-ness of my fridge. Veggies show up, then they get eaten. I didn' do it, an' Alison eats with me most times. Had t' be you."

"Detective, are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Wha's m' list of injured-ness?"


"Yeah. How bunged up I am."

Mewtwo peered closer, narrowing his eyes. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Nope! 'M high!"

"Oh no…"

"'Two, is she up? Brenda! You're up!"

"No," Brenda corrected. "I'm lying down. I wanna get up. Gotta go."

"You're not going anywhere, Detective! Your leg is badly burned!"

"No…" Brenda squirmed a little. "I gotta go!"

"Brenda, you have a- what's it called?" Alison asked.

"Catheter," Mewtwo said. Saying the word was only slightly less disturbing then knowing what it was for, and where it went.

"Right, a catheter. You don't have to go."

"Oh." Brenda tilted her head. "Okay." She grinned, and waggled her eyebrows. "Ali-Ali-Alison, could you do me a really big favor?"

"What?" Alison sat down in the other visitor's chair, across from Mewtwo. "Unless it involves breaking the law. Then hell no!"

Brenda shook her head. "No, not that. There's a pink tube on the IV stand. Could you pinch it off, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

Alison tapped one finger against her lips. "This IV line would be your pain killers?"

Brenda nodded, her hair flopping in her face. "I wanna be clear. Don' care much 'bout pain."

"I'll get you a paper clip," Alison said, sighing. She caught the look Mewtwo was giving her. "What? It's easier to just go along with her, and this way she doesn't try ripping needles out."

Alison left the room, muttering under her breath. Crazy step-sisters who would rather suffer agony then be even slightly out of control…

"I done that once," Brenda said. "Wa'n't fun."

Mewtwo shook his head and put aside his untouched salad. It looked only slightly better then the station eatery. "You- I don't believe you!"

"Can do it now," Brenda said. "If'n y' want."

Mewtwo lunged across the bed, grabbing her broken arm to stop her. "No!" It was only after that he realized that he could have stopped her with his telekinesis. If he had used telekinesis, he wouldn't be just about sprawled on top of her, which was probably very bad for her health. He weighed 270 lbs, and she had broken ribs. If not for the drugs, she would probably be screaming by now.

She would probably also have killed him, but that was besides the point.


"Hi, Brenda," Mewtwo said, wondering just how he could apologize- and shouldn't he get up off the poor girl now?

Brenda giggled, and thrust her face towards him. Mewtwo flinched.

She kissed his ear.

"Gah!" Mewtwo threw himself backwards, falling on his tail and scrambling back into a corner. (Detective!)

"You're cute," Brenda said, leaning her head back with a blissful smile. "Good kitty."

(…I think I'm traumatized for life.)


"The nurses say you continue to screw with your drip, Ms. Johnson. That's very foolish, until you are better. Do you enjoy being in pain?" The doctor glanced at the IV line- which was tied in a knot, after the last nurse had taken away the paper clip. "The dosage of painkillers can be reduced, but you need to relax in order to heal."

Brenda clenched her hand in the bed sheet. "You've already fucked with me enough," she growled. "I can relax just fine without some shit screwing with my brain."

The doctor glanced pointedly at her free arm, which was so tense it was trembling. "If necessary," he said, "we will restrain you."

"Come a little closer and say that, asshole."

"Name-calling will do nothing. You are in the hospital to recover, not to have your own way."

"If you morons had two brain cells to rub together, you'd let me leave." She hated hospitals, hated doctors, hated needles shoved beneath her skin and the memories of being small and helpless in a hospital bed- she wasn't thinking about it. "Either you let me sign out or I'll make you wish you were a taxidermist!"

"You will not sign out. You would ruin your health and likely lose your leg."

"I think I know myself better then you do, jackass."

He shook his head. He would untie her IV himself, since the nurses were unwilling. "You certainly will not. I didn't know you were a doctor."

"No, just a smart person who's in tune with her body." She waited, watching. Just a little closer… A little more…

"Not so much, if you think-"

She hit him with the cast.

"Ms. Johnson, best of luck to you," the doctor said. He turned on his heel and left the room.

Melanie stepped in a moment later. "I'm sorry about him, Officer Johnson. He's the best we have, when working in a lab. May I speak with you for a few minutes?"

"Come a little closer, bitch," Brenda growled. Hit a few more doctors, and she might get kicked out.

"No, thank you." Melanie sidled up to the IV stand, checking the dosages. She couldn't do anything about the knot from four feet away, but was keeping her distance. She hadn't seen a chart yet, so didn't know what the dosage for the detested painkillers was. "This IV is actually very important, and you managed to tie all the drips up. The pale green liquid is an antibiotic, to make sure nothing nasty starts growing up and getting nasty. You're in better shape than the wall, but not much. Without the antibiotics, you could get an infection that would kill your leg, if not you."

Brenda bared her teeth. "Do you expect me to believe you? All doctors are full of shit."

"Only the constipated doctors," Melanie corrected. "I get fiber in my diet, thank you. Now, moving onto this clear fluid. That's a saline solution to replace all the liquid you've lost. The blood transfusions were finished yesterday. The pink is the painkillers, the only thing you could take orally if desired."

Melanie read the fine print on the antibiotic. "You technically could take the antibiotic in pill form, but the doctors do not want any bacteria setting up shop."

Brenda snarled quietly. "How about no painkillers and letting me go home."

Melanie shook her head. "I'm sorry, but your leg isn't nearly healed enough. The rest of the injuries... you would still need a live-in nurse for a little, but they could be done. We also want to make sure you didn't bruise your brain. I'm pretty sure that's fine, though."

"A live-in nurse? Fuck no!"

"That would only be the case if your leg wasn't mangled enough to need skin grafts," Melanie said firmly. "I've spoken to your partner, and agree with his description. Your leg looked as if it had melted. Skin grafts would be easiest, but we've taken a good look at your burns. Your skin can heal, given time and rest. Physical therapy should start in three days, if you can be a nice patient and stay put."

"And just what fucking reason did Vahan have for talking with you?" Brenda asked, glancing towards the corner. Bastard coward, he must have fled just before she clobbered the doctor. "And just why should I be a nice patient?"

"He's not part of this," Melanie said, focusing right on Brenda. "I know it sucks. There is nothing fun about being in the hospital. It smells weird, the decor is horrible, and people will keep coming in to check on it. However, if you want to ever kick a door in with that leg again, or give chase on a suspect, you need to cooperate. I'm not here to make you miserable, or to make you happy. I'm here to make sure that you get your life back."

Brenda let her head fall back into the pillows. "I hate hospitals," she said. "And I hate that asshole. Should've punched him in the dick."

Melanie barely kept her smile from showing. "I owe you for that, by the way. Do you have any idea how much I've wanted to hit him? Look, can we make a deal?"

"What's the deal and will I have to arrest you for it?"

"Second question first- no. As for the first, you let me give you a checkup, I sneak you a cup of coffee and we work on lowering your painkiller dose. I won't take it off completely, because that would hurt like hell."

"I'm used to pain," Brenda said. "I doubt this is the worst I've been."

"Let's not find out, shall we? You have second-degree burns. If you promise to not scare my nurses, they can start trying less drastic options like ointments and looser bandaging. Second-degree means that your nerve layer is damaged, but you still have part of your skin there. My biggest concern as a doctor is the amount of area burned."

"So I'll have some lovely scars, so what?"

"You won't have skin growing, if you start moving that leg too early. You'll have your scars."

Brenda shifted in the bed as best as she could, and tried to fold her arms. "Hate you," she muttered. "Bringing logic into this."

"I know, I'm evil," Melanie said. "If you want your coffee, you'll not scare off the nurses. They'll all have heard about the thing with the cast, by now, and they'll all bring you food." She winked. "Be a little nice to them, you'll have even more coffee. If you're going to drink coffee, the saline solution definitely is a must."

"There's nothing wrong with coffee."

"It's probably bad for you, medically speaking, but withdrawal just might be worse." Melanie shrugged. "My second day on the job and I'm a maverick. Mind if I blame you as inspiration?"

Brenda lifted an eyebrow. "Sure?" It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Don't move your leg, please, but can you feel anything? Wiggle your toes?"

"How the fuck should I know, some asshole put me on pain killers."

Melanie was amused. "Your dosage is cut, officer. I'll check later, when I find the only nurse in this place who can make a decent cup. How do you drink your coffee?"

"Liquid, preferably without the ability to talk back." Brenda settled back in the pillows, relaxing now that the pounding in her legs was gone.

Melanie grinned. "You got it. Should I send your partner back now? He escaped when the fireworks were going off."

She'd guessed right. "Gotta kill him anyways," Brenda said. "Might as well be now."

"Aww, don't do that," Melanie said. "He's interesting, and there aren't enough guys out there with purple eyes."

"He's an idiot," Brenda said, keeping the thought of 'pretty purple eyes' to herself. She'd acted like a big enough idiot already, and her only defense was being high on drugs. Not a good situation.

"Smart, for an idiot. I'll warn him that death is imminent. Only fair."

"Okay, okay." Brenda waved one hand. "Hey, did you know your name tag's upside down?"


Brenda looked over when Mewtwo entered the room. "Can you make sure that no one can overhear us?" She noticed the cup in his hands. "Did you bring me coffee?"

(Tea, actually,) he said, eyes glowing blue for a brief instant. (I don't think it will interfere with any of your medicines.)

"I want coffee," Brenda groused, but she accepted the tea anyways. She took a sip and hid a shudder. People drank this stuff? It was boiled plants, for goodness sake! "I hope the coffee god doesn't smite me for this."

Mewtwo stared at her. He lost his illusion in his shock. (Coffee god?)

"It's a one-woman religion."

(If you say so, Detective.)

"Fill me in on what I've missed, would you? What's happened with the case?"

Mewtwo obviously hesitated. Brenda set the unwanted tea aside, and bit her lip. "Mewtwo?"

(Giovanni Rocketto is dead.)

"Did the ice dragon get him?" Brenda asked, confused. She would have thought that Mewtwo would celebrate, at least a little. Team Rocket would be broken by this- that was a thought. Maybe crime could actually be solved, now that Rocketto was out of the picture.


It took Brenda a moment. No, the ice dragon hadn't killed Rocketto. "Then how did he die? Did a piece of that damn wall hit him on the head or something?"

(No.) Mewtwo looked up at her, like a guilty child. Like he had over the seatbelt incident. (I killed him.)

"You what?" Brenda clenched her eyes shut and groaned. "You didn't just tell me that. You hear me? I didn't hear that, you didn't say that, understand?"

(You're not upset?)

Sometimes, Brenda thought, Mewtwo acted like such a child! "Of course I'm upset, idiot! You can't just say things like that! For all official records, the psychic-ice-dragon thing killed him. Understand?"

Mewtwo nodded, eyes very wide.

"As for what you did…" Brenda relaxed enough to smile. "Consider it community service, alright?"

Mewtwo finally relaxed, and attempted a smile. Brenda stared at him until his lips stopped trembling.

"I'm not upset," she said, using a tone she'd only heard Alison use before. "Honestly, the only reformed criminal is a dead criminal. However appealing the thought of Rocketto in a bright orange jumpsuit with a three-hundred-pound cellmate named Bubba might be, real life just doesn't work that way."

(If you say so, Detective.)

"I don't say so, I know so. You'd better know so too."

Mewtwo's eyes narrowed. (You speak as if I'll be sticking around.)

Brenda huffed in order to cover her sudden unease. Wouldn't he? "Well," she said, "you are the best damn partner I've had since Lt. Milton."

Mewtwo took a deep breath. Brenda could hear it from her bed. (I suppose, Detective, I could stay. Just for a while.)

End Notes

And that is a wrap, people! Yes, this story is complete. If you want more of Brenda and Mewtwo, just say so. Either way, another story will be going up as soon as it's written and edited. In the mean time, if you're a fan of Teen Titans- or just good writing- go check out CalliopeMused's story 'The Fifth'. I also ask, for Calliope, that if you have any artistic talent that you would please, please consider turning 'The Fifth' into a comic and put it up where people can see it. It's just that awsome.

Thank you for reading, leave a review on your way out. Remember, tip your authoress!