Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Chapter 50 - Heart to Heart

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS PLACE?!" Jerry roared to the sky. "These—these freaks?! Spirits? Mystics? WHY? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?" He panted again, regaining his breath. He paced across the chamber, feeling even more trapped than before. Despite the ample room that she had—for someone's insides—it was still too cramped for the flier. He needed air. He needed to see the sky. He needed solid ground.

Jerry muttered loudly to himself in a mixture of angry shouts and loud whispers. "Oh, don't worry about it, we'll help you right up!" His laughter was quick and rapid. "Sure, you're just a head, and your body is in danger of completely melting away, but it's fine! We have this magic thingamabob to keep you from dying! Oh, and also, that kid whose team arrested you is the one who made it!" Jerry panted a few more times. He was starting to tire himself out. Even standing felt like a chore. "Why would he do that? Well, obviously, because he cares! Something that you obviously don't do, oh, no, that's why you couldn't become a Heart! You just didn't care enough! It's aaaall about having your HEART IN THE RIGHT PLACE—NNGHAAAAGH!"

Jerry slashed at Emily's stomach lining, leaving a huge gash against the thick tissue. There was no blood. In a shaking, seething breath, Jerry watched the flesh squeeze itself together, mending the wound from edge to edge.

"I hate you," Jerry finally hissed. He didn't know who he was saying it to. He just kept repeating it to himself, walking in circles, until, finally, something caught his eye. He saw her. The stump of a Gardevoir was propped up against the far wall, only ten of his paces away. Her eyes were open and aware, and her breathing was soft. Her body showed the natural tension of one trying to stay quiet. A stiffness in her breathing, afraid to draw attention.

Jerry's breathing slowed and he finally stopped pacing. He stopped mumbling. He happened to stop right next to the Stable Scarf. He still refused to pick it up. He hadn't melted yet, so he wasn't going to start now.

But now, a new problem presented itself. The Fire imp was awake. How much of that did she hear? Should he even care? He was going to be stuck with her for at least a night. Was she going to say anything? So far, she was just avoiding his eyes.

Jerry growled to himself. Even if Amia looked at him, he couldn't look back. The catharsis of yelling and thrashing finally wearing off, the Aerodactyl only felt a creeping sense of shame. He saw Anam's slimy, gooey head shaking in rejection toward his name on James' list of candidates. He saw Owen's eyes of pompous concern, looking down upon him when Jerry had no choice but to look at wherever the Charizard decided to position his bodiless head. He saw Star, glaring at him. He saw his mother's empty eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Jerry jumped at the sound of someone else's voice. He simply didn't expect it. Even though Tanneth had been there not long ago, it felt like an eternity since he'd heard anything but his own thoughts. And that's what he first hears? He stared at Amia. Her eyes were downcast.

His jaw clenched, sharp teeth neatly fitting together. What right did she have to apologize to him? He wanted nothing to do with her, or with anybody in her family, of her clan. He didn't care what Ghrelle said. The Fire Clan was real, and in the schism, Amia, or her ancestors, happened to be on the winning side.

But he wasn't just going to ignore her. She was nothing but a head and torso, but those eyes. He couldn't bear having those eyes upon him, and he'd do anything to get her to stop staring so silently.

Jerry found his voice. It was ragged from strain. "What for?"

At first, Amia didn't reply. Her eyes gave little hints of movement, darting minute angles to the left and right, as if searching for an answer in the middle of an invisible book. "I'm just... sorry."