34. In Which Darkrai is a Tattle-Tale

Kip woke up sprawled at the edge of a dig site, his blurry vision not helped by the dim light of torches set into tall poles only marginally keeping the site from being shrouded in complete darkness. Their flames were weak and sputtered as they struggled not to die out entirely, and even in his groggy stupor Kip rushed over to renew their flames. An inventor had designed them to burn indefinitely, not needing anything but time in the sun to renew their fuel reserves. At nightfall, they would automatically spark to life and keep the dig sites Kip and his team worked on perfectly lit. That wasn’t to say the curious torches weren’t without their flaws— they needed to be relit manually every so often as a sort of technological hiccup.

Kip didn’t think anything strange of the situation he was in. It was often a task that fell to him to relight the torches before dinner— he wasn’t much of a cook, but he knew how to tend to the torches well enough to claim it as a chore that spared everyone his presence in the kitchen tent. So he went to work sparking them into renewed brightness with the flint and steel he always kept handy in his archaeologist’s bag.  

No, he didn’t think anything strange of the situation he found himself in. But then he looked down at the dig site at his feet. 

He fell back in a startled flurry of limbs when he saw the familiar runes of the rainbow stoneship below him, breaths coming in terrified gasps. He had practically memorized them on that awful ride away from where Twig vanished before his eyes while he clung to her and sobbed, begging her not to leave him. What was going on? Why was he digging here of all places? Where was his team? Why was—

“Ah. I hadn’t thought that this would be a worrisome setting. You’ll have to forgive the mistake— It’s not often I try to make a nightmare comfortable.”

Why was he hearing Darkrai’s voice behind him?

Kip whirled around as the scene melted and his surroundings shed themselves like a second skin. He was standing in a dim cavern with no exits, Darkrai himself standing several yards away. He shot into action, launching a forceful blast of water in the direction of the wretch who had nearly ruined the world, harsh enough to bore through stone—

—but then the water harmlessly fell to the ground in a puddle, barely splashing a droplet just shy of Darkrai. 

“None of that, thank you,” the Legend huffed. He added in a murmur under his breath, “I thought he’d be more willing to talk things through than she was…” then spoke up. “I’d like to speak with you.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, you monster!” Kip spat. 

“I thought so. Thankfully, I don’t require your response—” He barely dodged Kip’s next blow, a powerful punch that he swung his full weight into. “Enough. I don’t want to have to restrain you. I came to have a civil discussion, not to fight.”

“What is there to discuss? You’re back and we have to stop you again, but this time we know what we’re up against, and Twig won’t be stuck protecting me now that I can hold my own. Now face me!”

“Stop.” He evaded several more blows, catching Kip by the arms and holding him in place against the cavern wall. “I do not want to face you, I want to tell you something important—”

“Let go!” 

“It concerns your partner.”

“What are you talking about? What concerns—” He froze. “What did you do to Twig?”

“If you’d stop so desperately trying to engage me in combat, I could tell you. Are you done yet?” He asked, radiating a potent exasperation. 

Kip didn’t answer, but didn’t launch into another strike when released. Darkrai drifted away several paces, hands still slightly outstretched if Kip made another move to attack, but relaxed when he remained in place. 

“Your cooperation is appreciated,” Darkrai said, voice lofty and almost sarcastic in its tone. “I am not not a man who finds meddling in his nature, but this instance requires it of me. Your partner has behaved in increasingly worrisome manners, and it has forced my hand. You need to speak with her.” 

“Wh—” Kip struggled to get out the words he wanted. “Why in the… What the heck are you talking about?” 

“There was an instance in which we had a… confrontation. She expressed a desire for me to kill her, and stated I’d be doing her a favor by doing so. I had assumed it was a means of spitting in the face of death, but having observed her in other circumstances…” 

Kip furrowed his brow, absolutely bewildered by this conversation. 

“I worry. That is all I will say. I worry for her, and I request that you keep a watch over her that accompanies my own— as well as request that you speak to her candidly about the concerns you no doubt hold yourself.” 

“I don’t…” He opened and closed his mouth several times. “You wanted us to kill ourselves, and now you’re worried because you think Twig is suicidal.” 

“I don’t suspect it is an active desire, but yes. It is concerning when one holds such a craving for so permanent a reprieve from their concerns.” 

“You wanted us to kill ourselves,” Kip stressed. “And now you’re— What changed? Why act all of a sudden like you care? Is this a trick?” 

Darkrai hesitated. He hesitated. Kip could barely believe his eyes when he saw him glance away in discomfort. 

“Answer me. What changed, Darkrai? I don’t— I don’t trust you. Why should I? Why shouldn’t I think that this is a mind game to get Twig to consider…?” 

He finally met Kip’s gaze. “She brought to light that I’ve been wrong in a great number of things, most of all in how I thought the world a place that deserved to burn. Your partner showed me kindness where she could have shown me spite. I intend to return that debt.” 

“What debt? What are you talking about?” 

“Ah.” He seemed nearly startled by his question. “How to explain it…” Pausing, Darkrai considered how to respond. “I believe both Grovyle and Twig herself mentioned her having taken in an amnesiac roommate?” 

Kip was so shocked he jerked awake in a flash. 

***

Twig couldn’t deny it any longer. It was so painfully obvious, and she couldn’t ignore it anymore, because there was no way around it— ever since his afternoon nap, Kip had been staring at her weirdly. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he had questions he wasn’t asking, but was near bursting with the urge to say. 

He pulled her aside after Dusknoir set out to meet with Magnezone and the magnemites while Celebi and Grovyle went out for a walk to get some sun. “Hey, can we talk?”

An icy dread speared Twig through the gut. “S-Sure, what’s up?” 

“I’m sure it’s nothing, but— um…” He fidgeted nervously, not meeting her eyes. “How have you been? Since the whole… Not-Cresselia thing?” 

Frick. Heck. Dang. “Fine. Why?”

“I just… I know that it really freaked you out that one time when you thought I’d— y’know?”

(Twig unwillingly recalled how she’d thought Kip had heeded a disguised Darkrai’s urging to sacrifice himself for the sake of the world. The panic and grief that she’d felt then was unlike anything she could ever put into words. It was a numb, aching, hollow pain that swallowed her whole, and she had sobbed deep and hard enough to turn herself almost inside-out when she found him safe and well as he watched the sunrise.)

“Yeah, it was freaky. I don’t want to ever go through that again.” she murmured. “Why bring it up?” Her eyes widened. “Kip, are you—? I love you, alright? More than I can say. I couldn’t imagine life without you. Don’t ever even dream about—”

He put up his flippers in a placating gesture. “No, no! It’s not like that! I just— uh—” He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck to ease his anxiety. It was a tell of his that Twig knew all too well. He didn’t want to say this next bit, whatever it was. “I just… I wondered if you maybe… I was wondering if you were thinking about that sort of— route personally.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Are you okay? Really, Twig, are you? Have you considered…?”

Twig gaped at him in silence for a long moment, dumbfounded. “No,” she finally said, voice a squeak even though it was mostly true. She hadn’t considered such things in a long time. Not seriously, at least. She still had those urges when she upset someone, thinking that they would be happier with her gone, but she knew that it wouldn’t accomplish anything if she actually acted on it. They wouldn’t know the difference if she was there the next day or not. She might as well stick around and try to make amends as a result. 

Kip watched her quietly, a sorrowful look in his eyes. He didn’t believe her. 

“I mean it, man. I’m not thinking that way anymore. I’m fine—”

“Are you really fine, though?’

“Yes,” she stressed. “I’ve got my problems, but that isn’t one of them. Not enough to worry about it, anyways.”

Kip took a moment to respond. “You’ll tell me if it ever gets worse, right? And I’ll tell you if I ever feel anything similar. Promise?”

She bumped her fist against his curled flipper in a silent affirmative, then nodded. “You got it, buddy. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He gave her a look of horror. 

“It’s a saying,” she hurriedly explained. “Not literally. Just a saying.” 

“Oh. Okay. Gotcha.” Her friend fidgeted nervously for a moment, then threw his arms around her in a hug. “I love you, Twig. I love you a lot. I can’t handle the thought of you being gone.” 

She blinked a couple times, startled, and patted his back. The hug made her bones ache with longing to melt into the kind gesture, but she managed to hold up an unaffected front. “I love you too, man. I’m— uh— I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

“Will do.”

Twig was going to have a breakdown one of these days. She knew it. With their farewells bidden, she hastened outside to catch her breath, uttering a quick prayer that she wouldn’t bump into anyone while she felt so fragile.