Adore


Disclaimer: Team Rocket belongs to whoever owns Pikachu (find out yourself, it shouldn't be too hard).

This doesn't make sense, but I don't really think the main point of this thing is to make sense anyway. Not weird, just doesn't make sense. Um... judge for yourself. I wrote it just to get rid of a very annoying writer's block, and it hopefully isn't too ooc either. Well, I always moan about my stuff being ooc anyway, as some would know.
Except that, yuri. Don't read if you'll have to bitch about it afterwards.





It's you that I adore
You will always be my whore
You'll be a mother to my child
And a child to my heart
We must never be apart
We must never be apart
Lovely girl you're the beauty in my world
Without you there aren't reasons left to find
And I'll pull your crocked teeth
And you'll be perfect just like me
You'll be a lover in my bed
And a gun to my head
We must never be apart
We must never be apart
Lovely girl you're the murder in my world
Dressing coffins for the souls I've left to die
Drinking mercury
To the mystery of all that you should ever leave behind
In time


From "Ava Adore", The Smashing Pumpkins. Half of it, to be accurate.



********






Sleeping in a normal bed and not in a cheap motel or a sleeping bag in the woods, knowing you are safe from Officer Jenny and her men, being warm and clean and satisfied... those are rare treats for normal Team Rocket agents.
I'm not one of them.
I am one of the few that had the luck, the determination, the strength and the guts to climb all the way up, to become one of the few agents clad in black, us who are Giovanni's most trusted henchmen and important parts of his crime syndicate, and my life suits that. It has been years since I as much as touched a sleeping bag, I am never too dirty for too long, my stomach never cries in emptiness, and my uniform is never stained.
Others hasn't been that lucky.

I should be doing something useful by now. I shouldn't just sit here, and I should definitely close that window. But the moment is too beautiful to move on from, and I remain where I am, sitting by a window as the chilling breeze is dancing into the room and making my hair whip around my face as I am gazing at Jesse, sleeping in the bed we are sharing.
For how long I can't remember anymore, at least not right now, and I don't want to, either. It feels like it has lasted forever, and maybe it has.

I know that Jesse could have been here as well. Yes, she is a one of the very lowest ranking members, but she has all the qualities of a top ranking Team Rocket agent, and it wasn't her fault that coincidences held her back.
And if they hadn't, things would have been different. If she had gotten the chance, Jesse would have been soaring on an endless wave of success through her life, becoming a living legend, made out of golden rumors and confirming them all, one after the other. She would become the best Team Rocket member that ever was, better than her mother, and she would have loved it. Maybe that really is her one and only key to happiness, but I don't want to think so.
And instead, she is laying in the gutter of life, stuck here forever and becoming as filthy as the world that surrounds her.
Perhaps I can be the one to save her. But Jesse won't let me. And I know why.

She is still as beautiful as she always were, like a goddess born out of the eternity, always as young and glorious as on the day of her coming, never to blight in all ages to come.
Glossy red hair spread around her head as she lays curled up on her side, snuggled into blankets and pillows, lips parted slightly as she soundlessly breaths the fresh air coming from the window, carrying a scent of rain and decay, mixed together to the essence of fall. A worn-out body, a mind yearning for all the peace it can get. She should sleep forever, my Jesse, and I should sleep with her. We should sleep and sleep in this room, and love each other in our dreams.
But we can't do that. And Jesse wouldn't. She loves her life too much, even if it is to be lived in the gutter. She would love it without me, too, even if I couldn't love mine without her.

One of the coincidences holding Jesse back is James.
It could have been so easy to blame him, to blame everything on him, to say that if he just hadn't existed everything would have been fine, and Jesse would always be with me, and there had been no more stupid Pikachus or failed promotions and everything would have been perfect. But I know better than to actually say it aloud to Jesse. If I do, I'll loose her forever. And it isn't entirely true either. James didn't asked to become Jesse's grip on reality. Maybe I owe him this much.
It tastes bitter to admit it, but I do. If James hadn't been there, Jesse would have been different.
Of course she doesn't talk about it out loud, and I don't even think she knows, but she is stuck to him, forever. It might seem like she can do everything without him and that he just is her clumsy sidekick who desperately tries to keep up with her, but that isn't the entire truth. The truth is that Jesse needs James, maybe even more than he needs her. Without him, Jesse would become what Team Rocket wanted: The ultimate human, cold, vicious, cunning... and without a heart.
James keeps that side of Jesse away with his presence, he makes her see the world with all it's colors, and not only those of success. Jesse's success means evilness. He keeps her away from that.
And he has the greatest of blessings. He can make her smile.
That is the only thing I don't have, and it is the one I desire the most. The happiness that engulfs James and his being makes my Jesse keep to him. There are a few things in Jesse's life that she'll never let go off, and her stupid good for nothing partner is one of them.
I don't know if I should be jealous or not. James will never have Jesse the way I have her, but he doesn't want it either. And ironic as it is, James has all of Jesse's heart. I don't. I have much of it, most of it, but a tiny part remain away from my grip, it is a place where Jesse doesn't let anybody step. Except him.
If I asked her to choose between me and him, the answer would be James.

So I sit here, just looking at her, drinking this rare moment as if it is the water that keeps me alive. Soon, very soon, the alarm will go off and wake her, and by then I'll have to be ready to leave her again.
Just the thought of having to be away from her is a pain, but I don't deny it. I do try to hide it, to scare it to the darkest corner of my mind, but I don't try to convince myself it isn't there.
A wet leaf slapping against the window startles me from my thoughts, and I move my eyes to the alarm clock on the chair beside the bed, and then place my fingers gently on the top, pushing the button down before I move and sit down beside her.
She doesn't move, and for a moment I am tempted to slip back into reveries of her, but I don't let myself. So instead, I gently shake her shoulder before I touch her hair.
"Cassidy?"
Her voice is muffled by fatigue, and her eyelids are about to slip shut again, but they stay open as I touch her cheek.
"It's morning."
I feel her hand on mine, and she moves it upwards until she's touching my elbow.
"You're cold." She sits and leans up to embrace me, and then pulls me into the bed with her, covering both of us with the blankets, her body so warm and soft against mine and I can't help myself but pull her closer as I close my eyes.
"I know."
"The boss won't be happy if you get ill."
The heat is getting me again, and it's bliss just to lay there, feeling her soft skin where clothing doesn't cover it.
Raindrops are starting to hit the window, and soon I can hear them drum against it in a steady beat. Jesse doesn't move, but her arms tighten around me.
"When are you back?"
"Last weekend of November."
"Oh."
The simple sound tells me all, but I still ask.
"And you?"
"We'll have the next break first weekend of December."
"So it's Christmas then?"
"Yeah." Her voice sounds so weary, but I know that she's not tired anymore.
And then neither says anything, and I let her push me onto my back as she rests her head on my chest, her hand in mine.
"Don't go asleep." I whisper and run a hand up her back.
"I won't."
The air filling my lungs is moist and chill, and it smells of dead leafs and Jesse's perfume, and the world feels oddly perfect at that moment.

I never know how to cope when I have to leave her. I miss her, of course, I always do, and it poisons the rare moments we have together, in a way which maybe is the worst thing with it all.
I miss her, all the time, my heart aches to be with her. But even when we are together the knowledge of that it's only for a few hours, maybe a day or two, and then one of us has to leave again makes it all oh so bitter.
She never says anything about it, and I'm not going to ask her. Maybe she really love these moments we have, but I'm never really happy anymore. I can be in euphoria in a week before I'm meeting her, but once we're together it's all stripped down to the bittersweet passion; We simply don't have the time to bother about anything else than each other, and the fact that soon we'll be apart once again.
There are times I wish I never met her, that I never had to fall for her, that I never had to love her like this. Back then, before Jesse was a part of my life, the things that made me happy were to succeed in my job. It was all about that: Work and work.
Now, all that matters is Jesse. Whenever I do something dangerous I think that I have to do it, not because it'll gain me a raise, but because if I don't it might be years until I see her again.
And Jesse wouldn't wait for me.

A cell phone rings, and a part of the brain registers that it's mine. I don't move, not until it finally stops. Then I push her away from me and walk over to it, taking it up from the table to look at the number.
I'm not going to call him up, I know what he'll say anyway, and he probably knew I wasn't going to reply anyway.
"Who?" Jesse asks, sitting with her legs crossed and the blankets wrapped around her body.
"Butch."
I finally reach out and pull the window closed, and the sound of the rain is muffled as the wind finally stops, and I then take Jesse's hand, pulling her to her feet and placing the blankets back on the bed.
"It's cold!"
"What did you expect? The window was open all night."
I put an arm around her shoulder then, leading her to the bathroom. It's warmer there, much warmer, and it doesn't bother me to pull the clothing over my head.
This is the best way. It doesn't take that much time as if we had to take turns, and we can still be together. I can still touch her, and kiss her, and nobody can blame us because it's in a shower, and what people does in a shower is a private matter.
I don't do it today. I wash myself of, occasionally glancing over at Jesse do the same, and tell myself that two months isn't that long. And it isn't two whole months either. Just a month and three weeks. It's not that long. It has been longer.
I reach up to take the shower, and my hand touch another one. I pull, and she pulls, and suddenly I yank it away from her grip, not bothering with the annoyed growl before I feel her rip it away from my hands. But I catch it again, and pull it back, glaring at her as she denies to let go.
And I realize what I am doing.
Just like before, those years of hatred and fighting... it's just like back then. I let go of it then, and it hits the wall as Jesse looks at me, her face twisted in something that seems like helplessness and her hand still in the air where the shower head had been.
"Why do we do it?"
I don't know if she actually says it aloud or not, but I do know that I suddenly am hugging her, clutching her to my body and trying not to actually sob.
I'm not going to cry, I never cry, not in front of anybody, not in front of her, I won't cry....
I know I shouldn't, that I should push her away, that it isn't time, but I don't.
Screw Butch and his schemes. We'll never be there in time in this weather anyway, and he knows that I'm always late.
So I let her touch me, and kiss me, and push me down on the floor as the water showers down over us.

She warped my life into a never-ending roller coaster, and I am always trapped in this state; never in peace, always yearning for her or dreading the moment I'll have to see her leave. Before I met her it all was so simple, my existence centered around work, success, Butch, the Boss, all these things that meant something to me and was why I bothered being alive.
Now it's all Jesse, what is Jesse doing, when will I see Jesse again, and it's all torture, sweet torture, dripping with pleasure of being loved and the malice of never being able to have it all.
She makes my life a dance on roses, their petals soft like the sweetest caress and their torns making the skin under my feet bleed. I live in a purgatory of longing, in a paradise of loving, and as I wish things could have been as easy as they used to I wouldn't trade this for anything.

I know I'll get it later when we are dressing again. There are many things to be said about him, my baby brother, my partner, but his addiction to his watch is uncanny. He'll be complaining about how we'll be later for the rest of the day, but I don't care. He's not the most important person in my life any more. Well, second most, as I always was first. Now it's Jesse, always Jesse.
One last embrace, one last kiss as we're standing by the door ready to leave, dressed in white and black; so similar yet miles apart. I don't want to let go of her again, I just want to be there and kiss her forever. But at last the end has come, and I move my lips from hers one last time before I open the door and step out into the hallway.
Side by side, not talking, not looking at each other or anything at all we walk down to the parking lot were our partners are waiting for us; James is smiling at her, Butch is holding up his wrist and pointing to the watch. I feel the tips of her fingers grip mine for one last time, and then she waves a hand at me, dismissing me before turning to her partner who is handing her a piece of paper and saying something, although I can't tell what.
I don't even try to listen, I watch her read the paper, a grin forming on her face.
And then, suddenly, she is smiling. Smiling at James and the Meowth, and then she turns, walking away with the two of them in tow as Butch slams down the boot and tugs my arm.

I don't cry. I never cry. But I will the day she is smiling at me.