Perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The thought occurred to Pie, when he stood up beneath Lettuce's umbrella and mutely followed her to a medium-sized house about ten minutes from the park; it occurred to him once more, as he followed her inside and took a seat in her living room (she reassured him that her parents would not be home until much later, but Pie wondered if it even mattered any longer, with as little attention as he'd been paid earlier).

It beat its figurative fists against his skull, shrieking at him as he accepted a dry bath towel from the girl and proceeded to dry off to the best of his abilities while Lettuce made tea in the kitchen. The sensible thing to do was to stand up, put the damp towel on the floor, and walk away while she was still indisposed. The right thing to do, in the context of the entire reason they were there on Earth, was to stand up, walk into the kitchen and send a jolt of energy coursing through the girl's unprotected body while her back was turned, and THEN leave (leaving the wet towel on the wooden coffee table as further insult to injury).

Pie did neither of those things. He ran the towel over his hair and then folded the damp towel neatly, holding it in his hands like a white flag. In his defense, it was her white flag, and he was merely accepting the gesture. That's what he told himself, at any rate.

Lettuce's house was...nice. He'd never actually been in a human's place of residence before, much less as a guest, and while he felt weighted down by the previous day's events curiosity was beginning to get the better of him. Before he could move to explore his surroundings, Lettuce reappeared, carrying a tray bearing a teapot, two cups, and a platter with a few pale brown pastries topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a cherry.

"Sorry, Pie-san!" she apologized profusely, setting the tray on the table with an alarmingly loud clatter. "The water didn't want to boil."

Pie shrugged indifferently. Now that they were alone, he couldn't remember why he'd accepted her peace offering in the first place, nor was he sure what to say. He felt terribly awkward.

Lettuce appeared to be faring no better; she busied herself pouring tea for the both of them and transferring one pastry apiece to smaller plates, chattering nervously the entire time. Despite his apprehension Pie accepted the cup of tea graciously. Sitting in the rain for hours hadn't been a great idea either, although he suspected that fraternizing with the enemy was worse.

"Um...did you want sugar or milk?" Lettuce stammered. "I can get some, if it's too bitter."

The steam rising from the cup warmed Pie's face delightfully, and he was pleased to discover that it tasted just fine; better than anything he'd encountered on his homeworld. Not that that was a difficult accomplishment.

"That is not necessary, Midorikawa-san," Pie responded politely. "I thank you for your hospitality."

Lettuce flinched at the sound of her surname pronounced with such formality. "Lettuce is okay," she said, quietly. "You can call me Lettuce, I don't mind."

Pie sipped at his tea once more, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with his hostess. "All data regarding social norms in your society suggests that it is not acceptable to refer to you using your given name just yet. Such interaction is suitable for close companions, but not mere acquaintances."

'That was harsh,' he chided himself, acknowledging that perhaps he'd been a little rude in challenging the girl's assertion that they maintained a closer relationship than someone he'd just unwisely refrained from killing just yet, but it needed to be said. A brief shadow passed over Lettuce's face, but not of a malicious nature; she smiled at him, calm and accepting and affable. "Then Midorikawa-san is fine for now."

To Lettuce's credit, she at the very least understood that the state she'd found Pie in earlier wasn't up for discussion; in fact, she avoided prying altogether, making small talk about the pastries, and how she'd begun to experiment with the recipes she'd witnessed her bosses creating at work (here she wisely avoided giving away that said employers were also her sponsors in the double life that led to their introduction in the first place, even though Pie already knew that and more). Pie would have liked for her to remain silent. His decision to avoid harming her just yet still troubled him immensely (it occurred to him, halfway through his first cup of tea, that his actions were tantamount to treason or blasphemy, whichever could be applied to betraying one's god), but at least the idle chatter worked to loosen some of the tension present in the living room. She did not ask about his life, and he didn't ask about hers.

He hated to admit it, but it wasn't unpleasant, spending time with the girl. At least in such a limited capacity.

After two cups of tea and a pastry that he was compelled to nod his approval of, the itching guilt still nagging at him began to get the better of Pie. He stood up, extending the damp towel to Lettuce, a return peace offering. "I thank you for your hospitality, Midorikawa-san, but I must take my leave."

"Okay." If Lettuce was disappointed by his departure, she took care not to show it. She accepted the proffered towel quietly, remaining silent and seated as Pie turned away, hesitating for a moment before the girl's living room dissolved around him, rapidly reforming in the muted hues of his own darkened room with the stars hanging in stasis above his head.

Pie crawled beneath his covers, nudging the pillow over his head. It seemed like forever since he'd slept, and within a few minutes his exhausted body and mind finally gave way to nothingness.

As expected, he had nightmares.

-oOo-

Waking, a rough twelve hours later, was not a particularly pleasant experience. Pie awoke to a bed damp and uncomfortable against his flushed skin, slick with perspiration. His clothes themselves were grimy, the same outfit he'd plunged beneath the surface of the Tokyo Bay in a little over a day ago, and his nose crinkled at the smell. Far more frustrating was the howling pain in his empty stomach; Lettuce's tea was not a substantial meal, obviously, and what food he'd ingested the day of their last skirmish had been lost to the floor of the darkened storeroom he'd fled to after their defeat. His aching muscles protested the action, but Pie forced himself to sit up, planting his feet firmly against the floor and standing, ignoring the wave of nausea and disorientation that threatened to send him toppling over. First a shower, then food.

Somewhere beneath the insistence of his biological needs, the thought that soon he would need to attend an audience with Deep Blue hovered, but he pointedly ignored it for now.

Shedding his dirty clothing on his way into his washroom, Pie caught sight of himself in the mirror. In Kish's words, he looked terrible. Dark circles loomed beneath his eyes, and his braid had somehow come loose and frayed. With a heavy sigh of frustration he stepped beneath the warm jet of water, closing his eyes and allowing the grime of the past day or so to wash away.

Half an hour later (and several instances of washing his face in an attempt to mask the telling puffiness of his lower lids) Pie teleported to the kitchen, not bothering with conservation of energy. The ship was disturbingly quiet, devoid of the sounds of Tart partaking of inane human drivel in the common room and Kish's snarky commentary. The kitchen was also deserted, still as spotless as he'd left it after cleaning up after Tart. There was little evidence that it had been touched since then, save for a discarded cereal box in the wastebin. Pie resigned himself to a silent, uneventful breakfast of fruit, although without his teammates around it didn't taste like much.

On his way to his lab to check on the likely neglected Chimera larvae, he had the luck (or misfortune) of running into Kish, picking his way down the hallway listlessly.

Kish's appearance was that of uncharacteristic organization - he was clean and no more rumpled than usual, but his face was the painful image of devastation. Like Pie himself, it was clear that he'd either been sleeping too much or not enough. He didn't bother hiding his expression, acknowledging Pie with a jerk of his head, nothing more. Pie too was at a loss for words; he'd expected something, anything more than the apathy with which his teammate faced him - some sort of enthusiastic ribbing regarding Pie's kissing skills or an awkward flush and denial that anything happened whatsoever, anything at all.

Finally Kish spoke, his voice dull. "Thanks. For the pills."

"Oh." Pie's own voice sounded foreign to him, uncertain and unsteady. "You're welcome."

He allowed his gaze to stray past Kish's face, to a neck he'd clasped his hands behind, fingertips brushing against the soft hair at the base of his skull. It seemed impossible that Kish would have nothing to say, nothing at all, after their moment of intimacy... "Unless he doesn't remember," the unpleasant thought needled Pie, but how could he not?

"Did I..." Kish spoke haltingly, at last adopting the awkward tone Pie had expected. "I'm sorry I messed with your stuff. But did I...say anything? About what happened?"

Pie's stomach clenched. It wasn't possible.

"You don't recall?" he answered lamely. Kish shook his head, with a sigh and a faint grin.

"I have no idea. It's all a haze after the second bottle." He chuckled, a humorless sound. "I guess I know why humans drink that stuff so much. Maybe they want to forget, too."

Pie swallowed his disappointment (or was it relief?). So that was it, then. He was almost certain that if Kish really did recall any memories of the night before, he would have been incapable of not alluding to it somehow. He probably wasn't lying, but if he was Kish was making it clear that he wanted to sweep the incident beneath the rug. Which...was fine.

You know it isn't.

It was fine. It had to be.

"Not really," Pie said, nonchalantly. "You didn't talk much."

Kish stared at him, suspiciously. "Oh." Then, "Are you pissed off about your lab?"

"I cleaned it up already, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't rifle through my materials without permission." Pie feigned clinical detachment, as if his concern were entirely with Kish's breach of his privacy. "You might damage something important."

Whether he believed Pie or not, Kish acknowledged the complaint without protest, nodding his compliance and, without further comment, continuing down the hallway. Pie watched him go, ignoring the discomfort in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't shake the feeling of watching a slowly shambling corpse; Kish was, at least for the moment, a dead man walking, and it hurt.

He spent the rest of the day in his lab, numbly watching the Chimera larvae float in their tank.

-oOo-

Over the next few days, the atmosphere on the ship grew stuffy and stagnant, in the absence of Kish's humor and Tart's presence whatsoever. It wasn't the first time they'd avoided each other, especially after an unsuccessful or disappointing mission; however, the failure of the Tokyo Bay strike seemed to have broken something irreparable among Pie and his teammates. Kish became silent and withdrawn, opting to stay in his room. It wasn't odd for him to have periods of moping over Ichigo, but whatever had transpired between them must have been more serious than any of their other run-ins with each other. When Pie did encounter him, usually in the kitchen (at least he was still eating) Kish only responded in one word answers, and only if conversation was initiated. Pie's puffy eyes cleared up after a good day of rest, but Kish's remained, his lips a thin line that no longer wavered towards his characteristic self-satisfied smirk. As before, it was painful to witness.

Tart was seemingly not so much depressed as he was occupied; the younger Earthian had taken to disappearing for large stretches of time. It was clear that he wasn't wreaking havoc in those hours when he went missing, because there were no reports of alien sightings or otherworldly attacks in Tokyo as off late, and while he was definitely still in the area (as Pie confirmed several times from tracing his unique energy signature) he simply remained idle in various locations. Pie suspected it had something to do with Pudding, especially on the rare occasions when he ran into Tart, playing with unfamiliar toys or munching away on snacks that might have been shared instead of stolen. Unlike Kish, at those moments Tart was perfectly friendly, if a bit avoidant about his whereabouts - it was almost as if he were a normal child, instead of a soldier in a war they were most certainly not winning at the moment. And that hurt too, because Pie preferred seeing him that way, instead of the angry or tearful ball of homicidal rage he was capable of morphing into under the right conditions.

So that left him alone to poke around at research and readings and fret over just what he'd say to Deep Blue - all of which paled in comparison to his concern for his teammates and the ever present tingle in his chest that felt like heartache. Not seeing Kish all that often did not help his prior predicament; absence seemingly made the heart grow fonder, and sometimes he found himself hovering near Kish's door, willing himself to knock go in comfort him do something make him happy although Pie wasn't sure he was capable of doing so. He'd never realized how much he'd grown to love the younger Earthian's effervescence until it was gone, and with the memories of Kish in his arms (gazing at him with love in his eyes) fresh on Pie's mind it was difficult not to spend a percentage of his waking hours thinking of and about Kish. It was horrendously frustrating and made him feel weak and vulnerable.

He spent the rest of his time dreading his upcoming audience with Deep Blue.

Pie retained no illusions that they...or specifically he was in trouble. Kish was excommunicated and Tart was a child, expecting him to handle it. Besides, the Tokyo Bay strike had been his idea, his big scheme. He wasn't sure what the penalty would be for their failure this time (his failure - he should have killed that girl when he had the chance), but if Deep Blue's death sentence for Kish the previous winter was anything to go by he had good reason to be worried. He didn't think Deep Blue would really hurt him; were they not vital to his reawakening? Pie wasn't well-acquainted with dealing with an angry god. The longer he prolonged the audience, the more disappointing the report would be, and while he wanted to have some form of replacement scheme, something to offer in place of an outright victory, he continued to draw a blank for two days straight until accepting that he could postpone the inevitable no longer.

On the third day, with a sinking feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with Kish, Pie went to see Deep Blue.

-oOo-

He would have been a fool not to notice that something had changed.

Instead of the strangely tinted atmosphere and half-crumbling columns that Pie and his teammates had come to know, upon stepping into Deep Blue's chamber Pie found himself standing upon what appeared to be a vast pool of dark water, lit only faintly from deep within with a pale blue light.

The change was jarring, to say the least - so much that Pie lost his footing and stumbled backwards, seeking the security of the solid ground beneath his heels. To his chagrin he found nothing; the chamber door had completely vanished, taking the safety of the corridor outside with it. He managed to catch himself before losing his balance completely, attempting to levitate himself and failing, miserably. Although his feet remained planted upon the surface no amount of commanding himself to teleport, float, anything yielded any results. It was as if his natural abilities had been sealed upon entering the chamber, leaving him stranded with nothing but his voice.

Pie was suddenly quite aware of the hammering of his heart within his chest, his stomach twisted with anxiety and what might have been growing panic. It didn't help that outside of the light from within the depths there was no other source of illumination. Darkness above his head, on either side, in front of him and at his back.

It took every bit of composure Pie could muster to keep the fear from bleeding into his tone as he asked, meekly, "Deep Blue-sama?"

The immediate response was equally startling. Before him appeared a flat, round stone, brilliant azure. Its surface gleamed, brightening the area in which he stood to some small extent. Pie stepped forward onto the pedestal gingerly, heaving a deep breath of relief as he found it to be solid. Almost instantly another appeared, somewhat elevated but still low enough for Pie to simply step from one to the other, where he was greeted by yet another platform.

In this manner Pie found himself ascending an odd stairwell consisting of floating platforms that stretched out before him, leading him deeper into the space that had taken the place of Deep Blue's chamber. All around him he heard the sound of dripping water; he made a point of not looking at the endless body of water beneath the platforms, knowing that should he make a misstep he wouldn't be able to catch himself, as usual. Higher and higher, until at last Pie crossed from the final small platform to a much larger one carved of the same flawless material. The moment both of his feet rested firmly on its surface all of the stairs abruptly vanished, leaving nothing but a yawning pit below.

This time Pie did lose his balance, landing hard on his rear end and scrambling away from the sheer drop.

"Hold, servant."

The words rang out from behind him, spoken in an imperious tone that Pie knew all too well.

Pie's internal trembling intensified, as he turned to face the figure standing at the center of the platform. Deep Blue.

No longer cast in shadow, his appearance was both imposing and familiar. He was tall, taller than Pie himself, with an impressive shock of jet-black hair that cascaded past his shoulders. His features, similar to those of Pie, Kish, and Tart, were cast in a pale complexion that made the vivid cerulean of his eyes much more pronounced. Unlike the projections he normally presented with, Pie could immediately tell that this body was real.

He gaped for a moment before catching himself, quickly twisting into a kneeling position, bowing his head respectfully. "I apologize for the breach of etiquette, Deep Blue-sama."

"Always so polite," the figure crooned; Pie couldn't tell whether it was mocking or not. "You may rise, my faithful servant. Pie."

Pie complied, glancing briefly over his shoulder at the edge of the platform. He could now add dread to the list of emotions he'd identified recently.

"Do not trouble yourself." Deep Blue waved dismissively; at the gesture a structure that resembled a throne rose from the platform at his side, and the entity seated himself with the graceful air of a monarch. "I'll only order you to jump if you upset me."

Oh yes. Dread.

"Have you..." Pie searched for the right words. "Is this...have you awakened, Deep Blue-sama?"

Deep Blue sighed. "Of course not. I have merely come upon a discovery of sorts that allows me to manipulate this space with greater freedom. I still require your assistance if I am to fully awaken so that I may leave this sanctuary."

"I...see," Pie responded, uneasily. Here, powerless on this platform suspended so very high above what might have been water but could equally be some strange rippling surface that shattered his bones upon impact, he felt exposed, vulnerable; he'd never felt so much a fragile mortal beneath the baleful gaze of a deity in his entire life.

"However..." Deep Blue's face settled into a gentle smile, as he rose from his throne, closing the distance between himself and his most faithful servant and placing a hand that felt exactly like a hand on Pie's shoulder, "This improved form does have its benefits. So tell me of your success, faithful one. Does the city lie in ruins, strewn with the corpses of those that would ravage this world and leave it barren? Did you crush the life from those interlopers that would interfere with our plans? Or have you failed me yet again?"

Pie's moment of hesitation, and the visible fear in his eyes as he opened his mouth to answer was the only response the entity needed. "I see."

He'd been expecting it, ever since stepping foot on the platform, but Pie couldn't hold back the sharp gasp of pain when Deep Blue hit him, a backhand across the face that caused him to stagger backwards. He tasted blood, unsure if it was from the thin stream coursing from his left nostril or his lower lip, which was most certainly split judging from the sharp flare of pain at its center. And unlike the energy attacks that himself, his teammates, and the Mew Mews normally exchanged, it hurt in an organic way that was utterly terrifying. He looked up at his god, hoping to catch just a hint of mercy in the cold blue eyes that were perhaps his namesake, but there was nothing there.

All etiquette and composure tossed to the side, all Pie could manage was an "I'm sorry." It wasn't enough.

The second blow, while not as jarring as the first, sent him sprawling, landing on the hard surface of the platform hard enough to wind him. He cried out again as his knee slammed against the ground beneath him. "As usual," Deep Blue spat. "Every time, the same excuse. Overpowered by children."

"They're not exactly defenseless!" Pie hissed, grunting with exertion as he struggled upright. Somewhere in the depths of his consciousness he knew he was making a mistake, and an unfathomably huge one at that, but the levee had finally collapsed under its own weight and the words poured out unbidden. "Most of the time they aren't even as incompetent as I would expect them to be! They truly are a viable threat under the right conditions, and it's unreasonable to expect consistent results with limited support and resources!" He was shouting, now, fingernails digging shallow trenches into his palms. "I'm only hu-"

Pie stopped dead in his tirade, realizing what he'd almost said. Granted, it was a common idiom among several major languages in use on Earth but the implication (that he somehow identified with the enemy he was expected to exterminate) was its own form of blasphemy. Blatantly disrespecting Deep Blue, though...Pie reeled in horror, freezing in place as he met the entity's gaze. Deep Blue wore the same impassive mask that had once been his own trademark. Pie knew the expression well enough to know just how deceptive it could be.

"Yes," Deep Blue said evenly. "But I am a god, my dear faithful servant. Or have you forgotten?"

The following wave of energy that coursed through Pie's body was unlike anything he'd ever faced, searing through every nerve and rendering his mind a blank white sheet of pain and terror. Pie screamed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd screamed, not even during combat, or seeing the Blue Knight carve into Kish's abdomen. It was one of those wanton displays of emotion that he shied away from, alongside crying, but he couldn't hold it in. Nothing had ever hurt this badly. He collapsed, dimly aware of banging his left knee rather hard against the platform's surface but the shock wave continued, tearing through his prone body with a single-minded goal of burning him alive. He was crying, yet again, yet again, but it was purely involuntary. Sometimes it was easy to forget that pain and injury and death were a possibility in their skirmishes with the Mew Mews. This was different.

After perhaps a minute (or an eternity) the wave of energy subsided, fading to a dull full body ache instead of an inferno and leaving him a sobbing, trembling mess on the ground before Deep Blue. He barely registered the entity leaning down to stroke his damp, sweat-drenched hair with a gentleness that seemed out of place against the unchecked violence being meted out only minutes before. "My dear faithful servant...who am I?"

Pie's voice was a reverent, fearful whimper through his tears. "Our god. Deep Blue."

"Good." The entity ran his fingers through his hair once more; the gesture felt more possessive than tender. "Do try to remember." Pie flinched at the sensation of fingers against his chin, tilting his face upwards to meet Deep Blue's gaze. "It pains me to have to hurt you."

Pie didn't respond. He was more than certain that the fear undoubtedly visible in his eyes, in the way he trembled beneath the entity's touch, spoke volumes.

"Perhaps I've been rather harsh with you," Deep Blue mused, thoughtfully. Pie barely managed to suppress a shudder as the hand gripping his chin found its way back to his hair, actively stroking it as if he were a pet. As demeaning as the gesture was Pie was far too anxious to be irritated. There was something unnerving about the gleam in the entity's eyes, something that made his skin crawl...but there was nowhere to go. "You've always been the most loyal, the most dedicated to our cause..."

Bile burned at the back of Pie's throat, the nausea threatening to bubble over.

"Until him." Pie's stomach clenched, only adding to his catalogue of aches and pains. He knew exactly which him Deep Blue was referring to, and the manner in which he stiffened at the word was all the confirmation the entity needed. "I should never have spared his life. He's poisoned you with his treachery, filled your head with lies and deceit..."

"It's not his fault," Pie stammered, finally finding his voice. "Our failures are my responsibility. Not theirs. Please don't penalize them for my mistakes."

"Not theirs. His." A predatory smile lit up the entity's face. "I'm no fool, Pie. I know your loyalty is divided, between your silly little heart, and your duty to your people. Your duty to me."

Pie was too frightened to make any attempt to evade the following embrace, allowing the entity to kiss him forcefully, passionate in its own right but far different from what he'd shared with Kish. This wasn't love or desire, or even lust; Deep Blue was simply reminding him who he belonged to. Sharp teeth nipped violently at his split lip, reigniting the small trickle of blood from the wound. The hand in his hair tightened its grip whenever he shifted or made even the slightest sound of protest, holding him steady and preventing him from breaking contact until Deep Blue let him breathe once more, licking the blood from his lips.

"You are to kill him. Purge yourself of the worthless feelings you have been tainted with. Only then can you regain my favor."

The nausea that had been worrying him for the past few minutes finally took hold; Pie made it to the edge just before vomiting into the darkness below. Behind him, he could hear Deep Blue returning to his throne, heels clicking against the slick white surface (now sprinkled liberally with red). "Oh, and Pie? Bring me his head."

-oOo-

It was a credit to his physical fortitude that Pie managed to make it back to his room (opting to teleport after being granted his abilities once more upon his departure) and stumble into his washroom before vomiting again; given that he'd unloaded the contents of his stomach over the side of Deep Blue's dais he imagined it was pure stomach acid at this point. In between heaving he glanced at himself in the mirror; damp hair, ruffled in the spots, blood trickling from his nose and his bottom lip swollen, complexion blanched and eyes red and puffy from earlier. He could already see a dark bruise forming along his left cheekbone. His split lip stung mercilessly but it was one more hurt among a sea of pain. Whatever that final energy attack had consisted of seemed to have seared itself into his skin - Pie wanted nothing more than to dive into his bed, roll over into the corner and sleep for the next day, or week, or year.

Instead, he had a decision to make.

Pie refrained from cleaning himself up and attending to his wounds, simply wiping his mouth gingerly with a strip of cloth and directing all his energy to his next move: his lab. His usual graceful landing ended in an awkward tumble as his knee failed him; Pie realized he'd have to levitate to move around effectively. Logic decreed that it would be far more reasonable to stop and inspect his aching knee, locate some pain killers, and apply some form of treatment (the idea of using a single droplet of Mew Aqua crossed his mind briefly only to be pushed out rather harshly by the memory of Deep Blue's parting edict, forbidding him from doing so this time), but Pie knew if he didn't keep moving, if he hesitated, he would falter. Action kept him focused on the task at hand - locating a vial of clear liquid among the supplies that he kept far out of the reach of Tart and Kish, picking through a variety of syringes used for various purposes to find one suitable for what he needed to accomplish, taking care not to accidentally stab himself while uncapping the syringe and filling it with the contents of the vial. While he worked, he mentally recited the various alternative names for the solution. Pentobarbitone. Mebubarbital. Mebumal. Nembutal. Ethaminal. Dorsital. Most commonly known as pentobarbital, frequently used for euthanasia.

Death was not an uncommon subject of discussion among their people, unlike the incomprehensible fear most humans seemed to have of it. Pie had witnessed it before many times - parents that did not come back from trips to the surface, sick individuals wasting away and finally brought to rest either through the surrender of their spirits or an herbal concoction used to 'ease their pain', except Pie knew exactly what that euphemism stood for. Among his people, no one wanted to die, of course; it meant leaving behind friends and relatives and potential, although it was a common belief that the souls of the departed found their way back to rest on Earth in the end. But if death were an inevitability, most people wished for a painless death, drifting off to sleep for the last time instead of meeting one's end to violence, starvation, or illness.

His self-induced cultural studies on Earth during their mission had turned up a similar sentiment. Humans took great care to protect their bodies and themselves from meeting an early demise, although their ravaging of the environment continued along at an increasing pace. It was during these studies that he came across the chemical; it was more often than not used to put animals 'to sleep', although in some cases it could be administered to human beings as well. He'd swiped a vial from a veterinary office after hours, intending to study its uses own his own somehow. The herbal concoction used back at home did not result in a painless death, although it was brief; in contrast what he'd read about the pentobarbital suggested that the process was relatively painless and much faster than what he'd come to know.

Pie replaced the now empty vial, carefully, but not before recapping the syringe. He could feel himself tiring, from both the constant use of his abilities and overall fatigue. Now. Now, or never, and never isn't an option because they're counting on you and you have to regain his trust and to do so you have to-

Pie shuddered, forcefully suppressing the desire to return to the washroom, and winked into thin air before he could lose his nerve.

He chose to look in on Tart, first. It hadn't occurred to him that he would have to explain why Kish was no longer with them to the child, mostly because he hadn't allowed himself to even examine the fact that he was preparing to kill (murder) Kish. Tart was lying on his back, snoring uproariously. There were candy wrappers all over the bed, and a sweet smile on his face, as if his dreams were pleasant instead of the nightmares Pie fully expected to have for some time. He made a point of only observing him for a minute or two before departing. He could already feel his resolve wavering, the words inserting themselves into the prime directive that he'd devoted all of his consciousness to: No, and I can't and I won't do this and a million other acts of verbal treachery that were becoming harder and harder to ignore. Pie glanced back at Tart sadly before envisioning and teleporting to his final destination: Kish's room.

He'd confirmed that Kish was asleep earlier, utilizing one of the small creatures that resembled jellyfish as a scout. It wouldn't do to show up in his room unannounced while Kish was awake, although with his current state of depression Pie doubted he would have reacted much. Kish was also peaceful, but it was the deflated, deep slumber of someone who didn't want to wake up. He'd curled into a tight bundle beneath his covers, with only the slight rising of the blanket indicating that he was still alive.

The surface of the syringe was slick within his palm, gripped so tightly that he risked shattering the glass. Pie hovered directly above his unassuming teammate, trying to ignore the howling protest in his stomach and the words of denial now slamming themselves into the sides of his skull. One quick motion. Pull back the covers, jab the syringe into his neck. Watch his eyes fly open, wide with betrayal for only a few seconds before the cardiac arrest sets in and his heart stops, that wonderful passionate heart that approaches everything with excitement and amusing cynicism, those beautiful eyes that gleam mischievously constantly, watch the light fade from those eyes and I can't I can't do this I can't I have to what do I do

Pie realized he was breathing rather heavily now, his throat nearly shut tight with rising panic. It would be so very simple, so easy to kill Kish, and bring him before Deep Blue, cradled gently against his chest (he wasn't cutting off Kish's head, he fucking refused) but the truth of the matter was that he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to regain Deep Blue's favor and avoid any further punishment, because he loved Kish, as a teammate, as a friend, and on a far deeper level than just friendship. He could recall Kish's fingers running through his hair, his lips pressed against his skin, and how he'd give anything to feel that once more. He couldn't, because he loved Kish, and love rendered you weak and helpless and pathetic.

Even worse was the guilt. That he'd even considered killing someone he loved so much, that he was actively betraying both Deep Blue and his people, that he was so very weak, failing everyone. His eyes burned, a single salty tear coursing its way down his cheek to set his split lip on fire.

"I'm sorry," Pie whispered. "Oh Kish, I'm so sorry."

The lump beneath the covers shifted and Kish mumbled in his sleep; Pie didn't stick around to see if he were waking or not. He couldn't look him in the eye. Not now, not for some time.

He landed heavily on the floor of his lab, letting the syringe slip from his grasp and skitter across the floor while he folded in on himself as he had earlier, shaking uncontrollably. No. No no no.

-oOo-

Lettuce was burning the midnight oil once again, steadily picking away at a story she'd been working on for awhile. It was an immensely silly little thing, involving a brave, outspoken female knight (historical inaccuracy be damned) with long flowing hair the hue of new leaves that floated in the breeze whenever she removed her helmet. She was dedicated to protecting a brilliant yet sometimes careless blonde prince who was prone to placing himself in harm's way in the interest of the denizens of their kingdom despite being warned against doing so. And yet she was happy to rescue him, time and time again, if only for the moment when their eyes met and he thanked her for loyalty with a faint gleam of interest in his eyes...

Cheeks enflamed, Lettuce all but slammed the lid of her laptop shut and pushed it away from her, her forehead settling into the spot it vacated. Why was it so very easy to write words of love, but not actually give voice to them? Ever since saving him in the Tokyo Bay her interactions with Ryou had become painfully awkward. She could barely look in his direction without blushing, and whereas her clumsiness had subsided somewhat since she began working in the cafe she was back to breaking china, but only when Ryou was around. Lettuce sighed glumly. If this kept up, she'd not only lose a friend, but she'd lose her job as well.

Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap tap...

Lettuce sat bolt upright in her chair, all drowsiness forgotten. The sound was coming from her window, a sharp rapping against the glass. She paled - this late at night she knew it couldn't be any of her friends dropping by, and why wouldn't they have let her know they were coming? "Hello?" she said, voice trembling.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap...

The noise picked up the pace, growing ever more insistent, and despite her fear Lettuce reached for her brooch. More than likely it was an enemy attack of some sort, and while she wasn't keen on facing the threat by herself she knew it was her duty to at least hold it off until the others arrived. Ryou's sensors tended to pick up heavy energy surges, so the act of transforming would likely attract some kind of attention. With her brooch in hand and her transformation call on the tip of her tongue, Lettuce ran over to the window and yanked back the curtains, ready to kick into gear as Mew Lettuce - only to stop short at the sight that awaited her. "Pie-san?"

Lettuce tugged open the window, the adrenaline rush of fear and determination giving her the energy to haul the half-conscious Pie inside from where he floated listlessly. He didn't resist, immediately falling forward on the carpet once inside. He'd looked rather banged up initially, but now Lettuce had a better idea of how badly he was hurt. There was blood on his face, mostly beneath his nose, and he was just a mess of bruises in general. He was shivering violently, his teeth actually chattering. "Pie-san..." Lettuce whispered, horrified. "Who did this to you?"

Pie looked up at her. His eyes were glassy and unfocused but there was a fire in them that unnerved Lettuce when she focused on them for too long. "I won't do it," he muttered, then promptly lost consciousness, leaving Lettuce standing near her open window with an enemy (at least officially) bleeding on her carpet and looking much the worse for wear.

It was going to be a long night.

-oOo-

In the bottomless depths of his psyche, Pie cowered. Running was futile, because the malevolent presence surrounded him. It tainted the air, the nothingness beneath his feet, sliding into his ears and filling the empty spaces in his skull with its nauseating stench. It smelled like old blood and worse things, causing him to curl into a ball and retch into the darkness.

"Bring me his head."

"No," Pie hissed in-between heaving. "No. I'm not going to-"

"Pie..." The presence crooned in a sickeningly sweet tone. "My most faithful servant."

"I said NO!" Pie snapped, attempting to rise from where he crouched only to find himself completely immobile. "I won't, you can't make me..."

"Oh, my dear Pie, that's where you're wrong." Hands the temperature of ice gripped at his face, jerking his head up to stare into the endless pools of unholy blue light that served as the entity's eyes, a mouth full of jagged and nonsensical teeth twisted into a sick mockery of a grin. "You'll do anything I want you to."

Pie opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out but a weak mewling sound that would have been shameful had his mind not already been reeling with horror.

"Pie-san!" Pie's eyes snapped open, the voice (not that of the presence; this voice was warm and soft and he instinctively leaned into it) tugging him gently into consciousness. "It's alright, Pie-san." He recognized Lettuce instantly, although he had no idea why she was there or where he was; the fuzzy details of the room he could make out were foreign.

Something warm brushed against his face, causing him to flinch. Lettuce drew back, holding a once white washrag that was now stained pink. "Sorry Pie-san," she admonished in her characteristic gentle tone. "This might sting a bit."

Forming words seemed to still be difficult so Pie merely nodded, allowing her to wipe the now dried blood from around his nose. She hummed lightly while doing so, patiently attending to his wounded lip as well. An aura of confidence surrounded the girl while she worked; for all her awkwardness Lettuce made an expert caretaker, working with the kind of delicate precision and attention to her patient that Pie would expect from a nurse. He supposed it was innate.

She handed him small cold pack shaped like a fish to press against his lip, and Pie did so without hesitation. The ice dulled the pain considerably. "Thank you," Pie said, quietly. It was a loaded statement, but he was sure Lettuce understood.

The shy girl nodded, ducking her head bashfully. "It's fine, Pie-san. You're my friend."

A denial lingered on the tip of his tongue. Were he to allow her to make such a claim without correcting her, it would cement the fact that they'd crossed the line dividing them as enemies, that Pie was no longer fully devoted to his duty...

...but he wasn't. His outright refusal to adhere to Deep Blue's command had brought him here, sitting on his former enemy's floor wrapped in what appeared to be a nest of blankets while she tended to the wounds inflicted by a god he wasn't certain he could put his faith into anymore. Whether he felt fully comfortable with the situation or not, something HAD changed; something had shifted inside him that forced the words back down his throat and compelled him to respond with a faint smile. Because Lettuce was, against his better judgment, a potential friend. "Thank you, Mido..Lettuce."

Lettuce beamed; it was the first time he'd spoken her name. She rose to her feet, wiping the light sheen of sweat from her brow. "I'll be right back, Pie-san. The water I put on for tea should be boiling by now."

Pie watched the girl hurry out of the room with her green tresses bouncing behind her. The fatigue resulting from the past twelve hours or so had settled on him like a heap of stones, and now that the rush of defiance had worn off the dull ache from earlier returned in full force. Whatever Deep Blue had done to him was more than just a regular energy attack. In addition to his battered body, his spirits were lowered by the entity's harsh treatment. He shuddered, vaguely nauseated by the all too vivid memory of Deep Blue invading his mouth, sinking his teeth into his lip and lapping at the blood as if it were nectar. I can't go back. Not yet, at any rate. Unless he could redeem himself without being forced to harm Kish, their mission was now at an impasse.

"What now?" Pie asked aloud, wearily. What now, indeed. The question lingered in his thoughts as he gave way to his exhaustion, snuggling into the wonderfully warm blankets surrounding him and drifting off to sleep.