Sabrina watched from the second story window as two of her children walked across the parking lot. It was a gray day, threatening rain without carrying through. A pity. Rain might make the world seem washed clean, and she had always enjoyed watching storms when she had been younger. But she doubted she would have the chance to storm watch today. If it rained, it would do so by night, when everyone slept.

She sighed, and moved back to her chair. Slowly, so as to ease her old bones, she sat down. An orderly passed by (You could set your clock by them), taking a second to look in on her. Sabrina knew what she looked like; an old woman, drained of vitality, exhausted simply from walking up and down a single flight of stairs, looking out the window.

"Would you like the screen turned on, dear?" the orderly asked.

Sabrina shook her head, slowly, and began rocking her chair.

"Well, just call us if you need us."

Silly. When had she ever needed help?

(Oh, love... Would you like that list in chronological order, or by the level of my aggravation?)

Hush, she told that corner of her mind. She was old now, and was allowed to delude herself a little. Where was the harm in that? (None, I suppose...)

She was lucky, of course, being here. It was a good home, even if it wasn't her home. Her home shared property with her school, where psychic children could come and learn to control their powers, and belong, for once, with everyone around them. Her home had rose vines climbing up over the side, planted there one summer by her mate, having survived and thrived his inexpert care.

You really weren't supposed to plant them that deep in the ground. Hardly any green leaves had showed, that first year. But the next summer, the roses had bloomed, pink and red and purple, and the smallest had been as big around as her palm.

Her home echoed to the sound of children laughing and shouting at each other, and there was always a child there, never mind her own were grown now, moved out and above childish games of tag and hide and seek.

Well, perhaps not her youngest. But Brendan's games were so dangerous now, and she went to sleep every night with prayers for his safety on her lips. He was a police officer, and she couldn't be prouder, but sometimes she wished he'd gone into accounting.

(And he would have climbed the walls, and hated his job, and ended up with an ulcer. He'll be fine. You worry so much.)

She did. She always had. Fortunately, her mate had been confidant- no, call it what it was, arrogant, and had always known that there was nothing anyone would deny him. Between her worry, and his overconfidence, they had somehow found themselves standing in the middle ground, and she had learnt to trust that things would go the way she wanted them to, and he had learnt compromise.

It wasn't perfect, but no relationship ever was. They had fought. You couldn't love another being that much, without fighting. And they had, they had. Their love had been solid, and they had always made up after every argument.

She chuckled, a little, in memory. Sometimes she had sparked small fights just for afterwards, when they would tumble into bed and bodies would brush and twine together, even as minds did the same.

Those had been good times. Yet even with the greatest of times were shadows; joy and grief walked together, hand in hand, and they had learnt to deal with the grief even as they wallowed in the joy.

They couldn't have children. A pokemon and a human were simply not compatible enough. Not even a human, and one who was half. There were simply too many genetic differences for her to have his children.

He was, after all, one of a kind. Literally. He had been born alone, and once, during a moment of weakness, he had confided his greatest fear; that he would die, alone and forgotten.

She had fallen in love with him then. Of course, then, she had worried and stalled. What if he didn't feel the same? What if- what if he was disgusted? He wasn't human after all. There was no reason he should find a human female desirable. What if they tried, and it didn't work, and it ruined their friendship? She hadn't thought she could survive without him, even as a friend, and so she had kept quiet.

Of course, he wasn't the most powerful psychic for nothing. She was strong, but he was so far beyond her, her shields were nothing. (Not that I tried to, love, but... You do tend to shout when you fuss at something. And they don't say 'curious as a cat' for nothing, after all.) She had been upset, a little, but in the end it was what she had wanted.

And she had been able to promise him, in a ceremony only they attended, that he would not be alone for the rest of her life. She could not promise him eternity, and he was a Legendary. He would have centuries.

Well. He should have had them.

But too much had been done to him before he'd been 'born', too much of his DNA had been manipulated, cut out and replaced, for him to have all of the years he deserved. Like the legendary firebird, he had burnt bright- and then burnt out, having only decades with her.

She had been with him at the end, giving comfort and receiving it in return. (I'll never leave you, love. You are my other half. I'll wait forever and a day for you.) Their children had known, but given them their privacy. Where the body failed, the mind could still do, and they had mingled minds and souls one last time before he had gone.

And then she had been alone. She still had her children, her school, her gym and her pokemon, but something was missing.

Slowly, her duties began being taken over by the next generation. Their eldest, in fact, a psychic they had adopted from the school, when her parents had died and her guardians had proven unable to handle a grieving telepath. Isabelle enjoyed pokemon training, treating her pokemon like the friends and partners they were, and after a few years became the official Gym Leader for Saffron City.

And slowly, Sabrina had stepped back, and back, until she stood in the shadows and watched in pride and grief as their children- adopted, all- grew up and became adults. A Gym Leader, a teacher, a fireman, a professor of literature at the local university, and a police officer. She couldn't be prouder of them- but oh, she wished he could see them!

(I did. I do. You show them to me every night, you tell me about them every morning. I couldn't be prouder of them in any way.)

Her early fears had been proven false. She could live without him, and had. But it had hurt.

(I'm so sorry.)

Humans didn't live forever. She had taken care of herself, but time was an enemy no one could beat, and psychic powers eventually took their toll. She had suffered a stroke, a minor one, but she had been forever affected.

The world was dim, now. Her powers were gone. She couldn't lift so much as a hair pin with her telekinesis, and only their oldest child could hear her thoughts. None of the other children had been psychic.

Yet she lived. She lived, because someone had to, to remember him. As long as a person was remembered, they weren't really dead.

Were they?

But she was so tired. Sabrina closed her eyes, and let the chair take all of her weight. She was seventy-two years old. Twenty years ago, her mate had died. She was a grandmother- and even a great-grandmother, though surely Carla was too young for children.

She missed him. More and more every day. She missed his voice (Well I miss yours. You're so quiet now, love) and missed feeling his arms around her, his fur soft against her cheek and under her hands. She missed the ever-present touch of his mind to hers, the sure feeling of being connected, mind to mind, soul to soul. (Nothing can break that. Nothing. I promise.)

Her telepathy, what was left of it, was still good for something. She could feel the presence of another person in the room. One of the orderlies, she supposed, come to see if the patient needed any assistance. She opened her eyes. It was easier than it had been in a while. The children would be pleased, at least. They had been worried at how quiet she had been, even when the grandchildren visited.

She had sat down looking out the window, and so the first thing she saw was the sky, dark with clouds. It wasn't raining, not yet, but maybe she would be able to watch the storm after all.

Slowly, with a care for her old bones, she turned in her seat to see just who had come to visit.

She couldn't help the gasp, or the sob. At least she managed to stifle the sounds, press her fingers over her mouth and hold back the tears.

He looked young again, not like he'd been at the end, worn out and worn down. His fur was bright and glossy again, his eyes- oh, his eyes! They were free of shadows, and she had never seen that, except in bed when he thought her asleep- and he stood straight and tall, as though gravity had forgotten about him.

Suddenly she was conscious of how she looked. Her once dark hair had faded to a dull gray, her skin had wrinkled, and age spots dotted the backs of her hands and arms. Her hands shook all the time now, and she had to move slowly in case she overbalanced and fell.

Yet while he looked at her, she felt as if, maybe, he saw her how she had been, not how she was now. He smiled, and held one hand out to her.

(Hello again, love.)

"Mewtwo," she whispered.

Clear, violet eyes danced and shimmered, and he moved over to kneel beside her chair. Their eyes were level now. He had always teased her about their respective heights, he nearly seven feet, she barely at the level of his chest. It seemed more pronounced now, and not just because she was sitting. She must have shrunk. She should have drunk more milk.

(That doesn't matter now, my dear. It has been a while, hasn't it?)

She couldn't hold back the sob this time, and leaned forward to rest her forehead on his chest. "You're here," she whispered. "You're here, you're back. I've missed you."

(I've missed you too.)

Dream, hallucination, whatever it was she didn't want it to end. "Don't go."

(No. Not again. I'm so sorry, love. I never meant to leave you.) Even with sorrow, the shadows didn't move back to his eyes. She couldn't help but be happy about that. She had always wanted to erase those shadows, but how?

(Just being yourself. Letting me love you. Oh, love...)

He wrapped her in his arms, and she had what she wanted, what she had missed. He smelt like he always had, of cinnamon, a little of musk, and completely male. He felt warm, secure, and with him she was sheltered from the worst the world could throw at them. They strengthened each other, always had, even from the first when they had barely spoken to each other.

(Sabrina...) He pulled away, a little, and she couldn't help the flash of disappointment. (I've missed you.)

"I've missed you too."

He stood up, and somehow he pulled her up with him, effortless. She laughed a little, giddy at the ease she'd come upright. He had caught both of her hands with his, and they stood together as they often had, with the pretext of looking out a window to watch a sunset, yet watching each other instead.

It's time to go, he said, and curled his tail around the back of her legs. She moved closer, until she could feel his body heat from head to toe.

For a moment, she hesitated. What about the children, their grandchildren? Little Elaine hadn't even begun to crawl- there were so many things she couldn't wait to see, that she had missed out because their children had come partially grown.

(You will see them again,) he promised, and she had to believe him. Why not?

"Alright," she said, and laughed again, with reckless abandon. "Alright, I will! Let's go!"

He grinned, and drew her into a kiss. Passion and memory mixed with taste and touch, and when they separated she was quite ready to go wherever he led, so long as it led somewhere flat and somewhat comfortable.

(Insatiable,) he murmured, and laughed, a deep rumble in his chest, like thunder.

"You love it," she replied. "Shall we?"

They walked to the window, and she could see the first spots of rain dotting the glass. It would storm before the sun set after all.

(May I have this dance?) Her love, her heart asked.

"Only if I may have the next one," she replied.

They stepped outside, and danced in the rain.


Okay, end notes time.

This odd little story is dedicated to WiseAbsol, who enjoys Sabrina and Mewtwo as a couple whenever she can find it. To be perfectly honest, I kind of enjoy writing it, even if those two refuse to give me any drama! Not sure if this is what she requested, but hey! I managed to fit it all in! -grins and points at the story-

Anyways, read, review, enjoy.