Just something short to get me back into writing.

This is based off the premise that after the first movie, Mewtwo didn't actually wipe out everyone's memories. He blocked them, because it was easier or maybe he didn't have the skill/time to actually get rid of an entire city's worth of memories at his current level. Don't like it? Make up your own reasoning for it. Also, mild *so tiny you can barely see it* implications from the Japanese version where Mew wasn't exactly as good as it was made out to be in the dub.


Sometimes Pikachu dreams.

He dreams of bright lights. Pink and blue clashing. Or was it pink and purple? Maybe both?

There are impressions of something distinctly feline. Two of them actually.

He doesn't really like either of them. Nothing against what they were, but who they were. Pink and purple. Blue. It doesn't matter. They really weren't that different.

There are others. Other pokemon that is. Two of everything. Even him. Especially him.

There were two that were practically the same so they each had one that was the same. One for the Pink and one for the Purple. To make it fair and even so that everyone had one that was the same.

So what was this pain? What was this feeling of wrongness? Was it because of this fight? This pointless battle between everything that was the same? Why were they fighting in the first place? If they were the same, then they would only destroy themselves. Self-destruct really.

Still, this wrongness is always better than what comes next.

There is sadness and loss. And tears. So, so many tears from so, so many others. Him too.

Something precious was lost. But the precious thing had come back with the tears.

Something important was learned by the ones who needed to learn it the most.

Still the loss is scary. Heartbreaking. As if nothing else matters anymore if this loss isn't rescinded. It's cold where it should be warm and quiet where it should have noise and still where it should have movement. Too cold. Too quiet. Too still. And nothing he does can change it.

Sometimes Pikachu dreams…and sometimes he wakes from those dreams.

"Pikachu? What's wrong? Had a bad dream?"

It's still dark. There are tears staining his fur.

"…Pikapi…"

A hand gently wipes them away with the edge of the blanket.

"C'mere buddy."

Warm arms pull him close under the covers where it is warmer still. Rustles of cloth and the steady thumping of a beating heart press against his ear. The steady movement of a living, breathing body.

This is good. This is right. This is perfect. Especially after the dream.

Sometimes Pikachu dreams…and sometimes he wakes from those dreams…and sometimes he goes back to sleep and dreams of better things. Of the precious thing that was lost and returned and surrounding him here and now, because everything earlier was still just a dream and there are better things to dream about here and now.

Sometimes Pikachu dreams and everything is alright.


Everything's sort of disjointed, but meh. It fits my mood and current bout of insomnia.