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--Tempest--

It seemed like… everything had changed. Claire and I … it had been some time since we just talked together. Mira and I had grown close, as different as we were. I felt she really understood me, maybe better than anyone. Master… I could tell he was still hurting. Not just the arm, or the places where the blood was still right beneath the surface. No… he was hurting because I hurt him. Hurting in ways that neither of us could heal.

And he still wanted to fix things. Still wanted to make everything okay for me. Wanted to make me feel better. He hadn’t even healed, himself. In any sense, but he was worried about me. I felt lower than a diglett.

Everything had changed. He hadn’t laughed, not in the way I remember, that open, carefree laugh. Not since before. Everything had changed, and I couldn’t stand it. I knew he was right, that it was up to us to decide whether it was for the better or not. It just felt like it wasn’t. In any way.

I couldn’t shake the feeling, so I waited until he was asleep, and got Claire and Mira to sit and talk with me.

--Mira--

Claire and Tempest… what would I do with these two? I knew they meant well. That they wanted to make things better, to make him happy. But how could they do that, if they weren’t happy with each other? They were, until a few weeks ago, his rock. Whatever else he had going on, whatever else he thought, or felt, he could come to them and they were there for him. Not even a question. When I said that, of course, they said it hadn’t changed.

“But it has. You two stopped relying on each other. He can’t share with you the way he used to, because you don’t share with each other like you used to. You can’t cut a tree in half and expect it to stay a tree.”

It was still a strange feeling. They both listened to me. I might as well have been invisible before. But I knew I had the right of it. I wanted to believe they knew, too. They were both too close to the problem to see it for what it was. Claire was too angry to listen, and Tempest too guilty to talk. They were silent for a long time, before Claire looked at Tempest. It was a look I was familiar with. Distaste, distrust. It was one she had given Tempest a lot these days. I wished I could have wiped it off of her face. But I knew in my heart it wouldn’t have helped.

“We’re going to have to go sort this out, I think.” I wasn’t at all surprised she said it. I knew she had been trying, but Claire had a hard time letting go.

“What is there to sort out? I won’t fight you.” Tempest, on the other hand, did surprise me. She wasn't backing down, the fight was just beneath her now. Whatever it was going to be, she had no intention of turning it into a pointless brawl.

“Not what I had in mind.” Sometimes, Claire was impossible to read.

--Claire--

Fight her? We’d done that. We’d done plenty of that. I left Mira to stay with master, and led Tempest to the bathroom. We weren’t leaving his side. Not really. If he needed us, we were less than a shout away. Tempest’s thoughts were a lot calmer than mine, as I regarded her. I didn’t know what I wanted. What I wanted to say, less what I wanted to do. I was a mess. I knew it. I could feel it.

But she didn’t say a word, just sat on the edge of the tub, and waited. Waited for me to say something. To do something.

“I know you two figured things out. Figured out how things have to be between you. That’s great. I’m happy for you.” I lied. I was bitter. I was unhappy. The words were ashes in my mouth.

She saw right through me. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? For trying to figure out how to move forward? For doing my best to make up for something I know I did wrong? Am I stepping on your toes? Does it kill you to know that he still looks at me as a woman, as a lover?”

“You know what? It does.” I replied, taking a seat on the counter opposite her. “It absolutely does. It kills me to know that when he holds you, he’s hiding worries behind a fake smile. It kills me to know that he still wants you, even though he can’t get your words out of his head, still. It kills me to know that I want you back too. The way things were before all of this. It kills me to know that I loved you, maybe even more than I loved him. That you and I had something special, something nobody else in the world could give us, and I don’t know how to get it back!”

“How about you just ask?” She replied, staring at me through heated crimson eyes. “How about you swallow your stupid, irritating pride, accept that we’re going to make mistakes, and move on? How about instead of sitting here bickering with me on this same tired ground, this exact same thing that isn’t going to change just because we’re not happy, you actually try to help me with a goal we both obviously want? Is it so much to ask of you that we try to help ourselves, him, all of us, move forward as a team, as a family, and as lovers again?”

“And how do you expect me to do that? What am I supposed to do?”

This was Tempest, I was talking to. I really should have seen it coming.

--Tempest--

I was sick of arguing in circles. Sick of re-treading the same ground. Mostly, I was sick of feeling like I was the only one, between the two of us, who wanted things fixed. She just wanted to be mad? Well, I was about to give her something to be mad about. She pushed away, at first, as I crossed the distance, and wrapped her up in my arms. It wasn’t anything to overpower her, and the sharp pain of her psychic assault faded as I kissed her. The surprise, the shock of it robbed her of the focus she needed.

I wasn’t going to take it further. I’d taken it plenty far as it was, as I walked past her to the door. “If you want to fix things, then let’s fix things. Just like before. I could show you a few new tricks, I think. Otherwise, keep your bitterness to yourself. You’re being an insufferable, icy bitch.” Despite the situation, despite just how badly I wanted to actually fix things, it felt good to finally say it. To look her dead in the eyes and tell her exactly what she was.

It was up to her. I, for one, was done arguing. I left her, shocked and shaken in the bathroom. It was all I could do to not slam the door in her face. I was so angry I wanted to scream.

I was done listening to her bitch, that much was certain.

--Mira--

They were done quicker than I’d thought. Tempest looked almost proud of herself. Claire lingered in there for some time. They’d fought again, I realized. I was going to have to fix everything, wasn’t I? Master was asleep, out cold.

Well, the early pidgey, I supposed, as I hopped down from the bed. Tempest just leaned on it, arms folded, regarding the bathroom with irritation. My touch on her shoulder was a comfort, and she looked at me, expectantly. “You want to make things better. I get that.” I did. I understood a lot of things at the moment. She was tense, frustrated. She didn’t want to be angry, she was too tired for that. “Mind if I go try?”

She shrugged, sighed in resignation. A non-committal. If she had an objection, she kept it to herself. After all, she was at a loss for what to do. What could it hurt that wasn’t already a wreck?

I hopped up, my paws against her chest, wrapping my ribbons around her, until she relented and hugged back. Tension yielding to anxiety, to frustrated sobs, and after a few minutes, a sullen, stoic silence. She’d take it, like any other pain. She was convinced she deserved it. I could feel her own resolve wavering under the weight of it all. Her own answers to herself crumbled beneath the tension.

As I let her go, I didn’t spare her a backwards glance, crossing the distance to the bathroom, quietly trying to bite back my own anger. My own frustration. This had gone on too long, already. “Claire, everything you’re doing, right now? You’re hurting him. You’re hurting all of us. You’re hurting yourself. You need to grow up.” No sense in pulling any punches. It was, I felt with a sense of irony, how this whole thing started, after all.

I took her arm, in my ribbons, and met her gaze. She was conflicted, if Tempest was a hill of tension, Claire was a mountain range. She couldn’t even form words, let alone give me a real response. She feebly tried to brush away my touch, but there was no real force or intent behind it.

I waited, holding her, the same as I held Tempest. I almost regretted it in the aftermath.

--Claire--

Was she right? Of course she was right. Tempest was a lot of things, but a liar was never one of them. Mira mirrored it, confirmed it. I was hurting us all. Hurting him. Hurting myself. He had let go, as best as he could, moved on, didn’t linger. Didn’t just sit and be angry. Why couldn’t I?

Why couldn’t I?

I didn’t realize at first that I’d started crying, but once I started, it was just a dam that broke. I clutched her, tight to me, and just sobbed.

All I could see was Tempest, before, her bright eyes looking up at me. Our conversations, all the times we loved and made love and teased and played. The way I felt about her. I loved her. I loved her so much that the thought of being parted from her hurt me. I loved her so much I hated myself for being angry with her. Hated myself for not knowing how to fix things. I loved her and all I felt was a sense of having lost something special. Something magical that I didn’t know how to get back. A sense of a pain, a darkness, a void where something beautiful and treasured used to be.

Image after image unbidden of all the time we spent together, all of our little conversations, our little jokes. Our promises to each other. And overshadowing it, this dark, angry pit where she had hurt him so profoundly that I felt it. I couldn’t stop feeling it.

I cried, I cried so hard I collapsed to the floor, dragging Mira down with me. Cried until there was nothing left to cry. Until my eyes hurt, until my whole body hurt.

When I was finally able to look up, it wasn’t Mira holding me. It was Tempest. Tempest rubbing my sore shoulders. Tempest kissing my forehead. Mira had moved away, her ribbons around us both. She didn’t say a word, didn’t have to.

“Tempest…” I tried, tried to form something, anything. All I felt was just a yearning, a void inside me that longed for her. Longed for what we used to be.

When she kissed me this time, I didn’t struggle, except to be closer to her.

--Mira--

The flood of images and thoughts and half-formed words. The pain she felt, it was overwhelming. It gave me a headache like I’d never felt before. I might as well have headbutted the pavement, it would’ve hurt less. And that’s what she’d been carrying inside her, since that day. All her anger, all her frustration. She was hiding her own pain behind it. Her own sense of loss. It took some effort to detach myself from the two of them, as they embraced, kissed, touched as lovers again.

They’d be fine. Probably. I needed to go lay down.

I wasn’t thinking clearly, as I hopped up onto the bed, I almost jumped on master, who stirred from his sleep, and regarded me through bleary eyes. I didn’t want him to interrupt them, so I nuzzled him, my body falling against him, stroked his head until he fell asleep again. I wished someone would do that for me, it hurt so damn badly. But this wasn’t about me, or him. The best thing we could do, the best thing I could do for him, for all of us, was to make sure they had enough time to work things out. I just wanted my family back.

That feeling, that thought; “I just wanted my family back.” I held it quietly for a long time, with a growing realization. I couldn’t even imagine how he felt. He’d never betrayed a thing. He kept it to himself, that whole time. Watched as the two of them pulled apart, as his whole world cracked at the seams. Watched, in silent regard, as two people he loved with all his heart grew to hate each other.

For all the things I could tell about how he was feeling, that one he kept quiet. I’d need to scold him for it later.

--Tempest--

I had no idea what Mira said, but I couldn’t ignore the sound of Claire’s sobbing. I couldn’t ignore it any more than I could ignore the scar on master’s cheek. A wound I’d helped create. I wanted to fix things. I did. I loved her. I loved them all. I didn’t want things to be broken like this.

I didn’t want anyone to suffer. So to hear her like that… I couldn’t ignore it.

Mira moved out of the way without my having to ask. Let me take her place. Claire feebly clutched against me, blinded by her own tears, her own pain. Mira stayed close, just waited, to make sure we were okay. Waited for the tears to stop, the sobbing, the sorrow. Waited, patiently as she always did.

And then she was gone, and it was just Claire and I. My best friend. My lover.

Her kiss was as sweet as I remembered, and her touch so much more tender. I could have melted, maybe I did, a little.

It was strange, we’d played before. We’d made love, dozens of times. But it felt… like this was the very first time. I’d never felt more vulnerable before. Her touch left me trembling, breathless. Her kiss was fire, and electricity. Everything she did wound me up in a way I’d never felt. Never experienced.

I could only hope she felt the same, as my hands slid over her, guiding her down to the cold tile floor. She didn’t protest, didn’t argue. For the first time in ages, the only thing I saw in her eyes was want, and need, and welcome. I was welcome there, just like that.

I could have laughed, if I weren’t so busy burying my tongue in her sweet pussy.

--Claire--

It couldn’t have been that simple, could it? Her hands, her touch, her warmth. Piece by piece tearing down my reservations, my hesitance. I wanted it. Wanted her, like we used to be. Her kiss felt shy, tentative, like the first time, we were both unsure of how things would go.

I knew how I wanted things to be.

As she worked her way down my body, nipping and licking over my nipples, teasing a heavy hand up my thigh, all I could think of was how much I’d missed this. Missed her. I could have cried, but her tongue hadn’t forgotten at all, all the little secret places only she could reach.

So much for crying, all I could do was moan. Long and loud. Her tongue was thicker, longer than I remembered, and her hands on me scratched and squeezed just right. I had expected more teasing, but Tempest pushed me over the edge so quickly all I could do was grip the back of her head and hold on tight.

She was going to take me for a ride I wouldn’t forget.

--Tempest--

Skies above, her moans were as delicious as her cunt. But I knew they were too loud, they were going to wake master up, and I didn’t want him to interrupt. There wasn’t anything for it, I needed to put her busy mouth to better use.

It was a new position for us, sitting mostly astride her head, her nose buried against my snatch as my tongue worked hers with a passion. It took her a few moments to get her bearings, but she didn’t disappoint. Those clever little digits stroking over my ass and tail, pulling me back as she pushed her tongue into me.

Something uncomfortably rigid was under my arm, and I realized with an annoyed huff that the damned branch she carried around was somewhere between my arm, her tail, and the floor. It took some doing to free it from her bushy fur, but as I held it, I got a wicked idea.

My claws were way too sharp to give her any kind of pleasure, but that branch, worn smooth by all the time in her fur, now that was something I could work with.

Her whole body tensed as I slid the rounded end into her. She trembled, arched, moaned into my pussy as I toyed with her. She was getting distracted, and with a shake of my hips over her face, I set her back to the task at hand. As I slowly fucked her with the branch, and ground my hips against her face, I could feel her, writhing, trembling, bucking into it, her body seeking pleasure even as her mind, judging by the flickering images and fading contact she offered, went blank.

--Claire--

It wasn’t the first time I’d used it that way, but it felt completely different having her do it to me. She was so much more gentle, and the way she moved, those shallow little thrusts edging me closer as her tongue lapped at me. It was something I could never have done, myself. It was amazing. I felt like my body was on fire, my hands gripping her, pulling her down against me, I could barely breathe, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting a little deeper inside her. A little further. I needed this. Needed her.

I loved her, and I missed her. I’d make it up to her, all that lost time, all that frustration, that anger. I’d make up for it.

I was unaware I’d penetrated her, until she shifted, arched back. My hand was inside her as I caught my breath. She was gentle. I was not. As she pushed back against me, I couldn’t help but wonder how much was going to fit. Master had kept her flexible, but my arm was a little more robust.

We both knew how she wanted it, and I wasted no time giving her the rough pounding she was begging for. Her hips moved of their own accord, bucking back against me as she whined. The stick was largely forgotten, slowly sliding out of me as I returned the favor. I heard it clack against the floor, but it wasn’t worth remarking on. It was my turn. Harder, and deeper, she took my digits inside her, and my forearm, bouncing back against it, clamping down and gushing with her release, down my arm, and over my face. If I hadn't just come off of my peak, she and I both knew that would've sent me over.

--Mira--

If they thought they were being quiet, they weren’t. Master just chuckled occasionally, as he glanced to the door. His good hand was well occupied in my ribbons. I’d expected something more, but he was simply too exhausted to feel much of anything besides a quiet, contented happiness at the sounds. I almost envied him that, they were obviously having fun. It left me with entirely too much time to think about the kind of fun I’d like to be having. But he was in no state to, and with my head still aching, I wasn’t going to press the issue.

I was just glad, in all honesty, that things were going back to normal. It might not fix everything, but at least it wasn’t just staying horrible. I resolved, of course, to let him know at some point. He owed me one. Or two. Maybe some pecha candies and a trip to somewhere that wasn’t cold, rocks, and more cold.

My thoughts were interrupted by loud whining, moans, and Tempest absolutely screaming for more. It was incoherent expletives and muffled barks as whatever they were up to sent her over the edge in grand fashion. They were at it for the better part of an hour, and by the time they were done, I was the one who needed the cold bath. I had to admit, it left me a little curious. But … for now at least, I was happy where I was. Maybe later. If he wanted me to.

--Trainer--

I remembered my first girlfriend with a sense of amusement at the whole thing. When she and I had our first argument, the advice we got was to kiss, and make up. Well, of course, we tried, but it didn’t work out. Maybe we just didn’t go far enough? Claire and Tempest were having the kind of make-up sex that could bring down the walls. I was utterly convinced they’d worked out their problems. Or were in the process of doing so. Or at least, they were getting a work out.

As loud as they were, I wasn’t entirely convinced it hadn’t become competitive. But even if I had the energy to get up, I wasn’t about to go disturb them to find out. I was sure they’d both give me the blow by blow later, if I wanted it. Along with other indulgences.

Either way, I was just glad they weren’t glaring at each other. That kind of open animosity had made me welcome Claire’s invitation to go wander on my behalf a lot more readily than I would have otherwise. I was honestly getting tired of having to juggle who had time out of the pokeball. I was looking forward to getting things back to normal, myself. It would be spring before the arm was healed, but I’d be out of the boot in a few weeks. And then it would just be memories. Good, bad, and otherwise.

There was something nagging at me, though. Unfinished business, as it were.

I was considering going back into that mine. There was a score to settle, and a certain little bastard I wanted to beat about the head and shoulders with my cast.

Mira regarded me with open worry, and began trying to soothe me again. She was surprisingly good at it. I just couldn’t stay mad with her soulful eyes looking up to me so trustingly. It was to that sight, and Tempest’s low, breathy moans through the closed door that I fell asleep again.

Maybe I wouldn’t go back into the mine, but that was probably for the best. It wasn’t as if I had anything to gain from it, anyway. Nothing worth having, at least. What was worth having was in my arms, and in the other room making up.