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morphic is a seriously good fic. it was the first one i ever read, actually, just under two years ago. since it's the fic that introduced me formally to pokémon fanfiction, and the one that inspired me to write my own, it'll always hold a special place in my heart. i binged the entire thing in one day and was pretty mind-blown over it, and the fairly open ending had my mind racing with ideas of what might happen to the characters down the line. eventually i felt moved to write some of these ideas down, and this fic was the result. honestly i kind of forgot about it until i bumped into it this morning when i was crawling through my blog, but i know i'm not the only morphic fan here, so i figured i'd clean it up a bit and share it with the rest of you. plus, maybe it'll help a few of you for the review blitz .:p anyway, without further ado...
Dave and Katherine Discuss Real Life
A Fanfiction Based on Morphic by Dragonfree
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to death/violence, references to racism/ableism, ample swearing
Words: 3,171
A Fanfiction Based on Morphic by Dragonfree
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to death/violence, references to racism/ableism, ample swearing
Words: 3,171
Calm down now. Be cool.
Katherine took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked damn good. She didn’t think such things very often, but right now, she had no shame in admitting it. Her appearance was a little off base in some places, sure—her eyes were rather squinty, for example, and her nose was much too small and high—but you didn’t have to be perfect to look your best, and hell if she didn't look her best.
Oh, there was also the trio of green horns sticking out of her head, and the fact that her hands were actually giant roses. But those were minor details, really, hardly worthy of address. At least, that’s what she had to tell herself if she had any hope of making her case.
“Ms. Harrison, five minutes.”
Katherine nodded. “I’m just about ready,” she replied, glancing at her hair in the mirror. She wished she could do something with it. Its utter plainness was all the more obvious when contrasted with her rather fetching pantsuit. Oh, and don’t even get her started on the pantsuit. No one would ever appreciate it for what it was, that being nothing short of a miracle. She invited her opponents to try putting on a tight shirt when roses for hands and a head covered in thorns.
Christ, what was she doing? Ruminating on her clothes? In less than five minutes, she would leave her house and step into a car, which would bring her all the way to the town courthouse. How long had it been since she’d been to town? In a car? Outside of her neighborhood, even?
She took a final look at herself in the mirror. Flawed. Perfect. Plain. Beautiful. Human. Pokémon. It was hard to describe someone like her concisely, but that liminality was central to her identity, her existence. She was a mix-up. And today, she was going to change things for all the other mix-ups. Today, years of hard work would finally come to fruition. After hours and hours spent poring over books and articles and wiki pages and proceeding transcripts and histories and everything else imaginable, Katherine had taught herself the inner workings of this particular corner of law. Now the day she’d been long preparing for had finally arrived.
Today, Katherine would testify before the city court to release the Pokémorphs from their perpetual house arrest. And, with any luck, today would be the day she was finally freed.
- - -
Unfortunately, David Ambrose woke up.
“Agh, fuck.” His head pounded as he rolled to the side, eyes scrambling desperately into focus before resting on the alarm clock on his nightstand. 12:17. “Shit.”
Didn’t he have something to do today? Something important? The, uh… The thing. Shit. What the fuck was it?
Dave flopped onto his back again and was just about to shut his eyes and fall back into the sweet embrace of sleep when he saw something taped to the ceiling. What the fuck? He squinted at it, rubbing his forehead as though it would actually do something for the pain.
It was an index card, and he could just make out the text. It read: “Court case. Katherine. 11:30, don’t forget.”
Oh, yeah. Well, now he remembered, at least. He’d overslept by about forty five minutes, but the case was probably far from over yet. Besides, he couldn't control sleeping in a bit, right? He yawned loudly, smacking his lips, and tasted the lingering bitter flavor of beer. Ah, right, he'd drunken himself to sleep again. But whatever. He probably would've slept in until noon anyway. Right?
Groaning, he sat up and fumbled for the remote on his nightstand, nearly knocking over his alarm clock and table lamp in the process. When at last he found it, he switched on the television and turned it to channel one.
There was Katherine, in all her morphic glory. Dave had never seen her so dressed up—she wore it wonderfully, though he found the buttons that ran along the back seam of the sleeves amusing. So that’s how she’d fit it on despite her hands…
A marquee rolled across the bottom of the screen. Dave wasn’t yet conscious enough to read it all, but he got the gist. Katherine was still making her case for the humanity of the Pokémorphs, and arguing that the Dangerous Nonhuman Act was unconstitutional—or, at least, that it was unconstitutional in its application to the Pokémorphs. Dave had heard the argument a million times. He’d helped write it. At this point, he could only hope that Katherine delivered it well, though he’d never resort to fucking praying for it, thank you very much. If anyone knew how important delivery was, it was him. It was definitely, definitely him.
“—aware that the media paints us as half-human, half-pokémon hybrids,” Katherine said, her voice cool, but just shaky enough for her anxiety to be perceptible. Well, Dave sure as hell didn’t blame her. At least she was talking fucking sense. He’d seen far more severe television blunders on similar topics in his days, to say the least. But it didn’t take much to outperform fucking Brian, of all people. Dave didn’t realise he was shaking his head until he felt it pounding in protest.
“However, this is simply not the case. You will notice by the upright posture and intelligent behaviour of not only myself but my peers that we are much more human than pokémon. As per the lab report, in fact, we are almost entirely human, with only a small number of pokémon genes spliced in. So, modified as we may be, Pokémorphs cannot be described as ‘nonhuman’ any more than, say, a black person or a disabled person might be. There are simply different genes at play, but we behave and think and feel the same way as anyone else. The line between human and non is blurred, to be sure, but I believe that given my substantial evidence, even the most skeptical will see that we are just like everyone else.”
Dave shook his head. Fuck. It was too early in the morning for this shit, and he had very important things to do today. He always did. Such as reflecting on the small bit of the case he’d just seen as he stumbled his way to the kitchen.
Katherine was a fairly good public speaker, he had to give her that. But that was only true on some accounts. She presented herself confidently, true, and she vocalized without timidity. She was a proud and strong speaker. And yet, what on God’s green fucking Earth was she talking about? While he could agree that the Pokémorphs were primarily human, why he hell did she think to compare that to race and, fuck it all, disability? Well, whatever. It wasn’t Dave’s case to control. If he’d wanted it done better, he could've just done it himself. But his wasn’t about him. It was about the Pokémorphs, and it was also (purely by chance) about everything Dave had worked toward for the past ten yeaoh goddamn it who was he kidding.
Katherine couldn’t fuck this up. She just couldn’t. To her credit, her argument was sound when it wasn't being botched by her attempts at injecting political buzzwords. If the judge had any sense of reason or justice at all, he’d see her point and rule in her favor. But in truth, Dave had come to distrust the public sector a long time ago.
He’d come to distrust a lot of things, actually. Sometimes he wondered whether his drinking habit should be one of them. He pondered on this for a moment as he produced a fresh beer from the refrigerator and cracked it open, taking a good sip. Christ, what hardass invented the taboo against day drinking? There was nothing in the world like a cool splash of beer on a dry, scratchy morning throat. Refreshing as shit.
Dave took the can to his recliner and fell into it, leaning forward and taking healthy sips of his beer as he stared off into the distance, into his regrets, surrounded by a rather impressive castle of beer cans and the persistent drone of the court case on the television in front of him. His regal throne. It was another day in the life of the once-great David Ambrose.
If he had been watching the television, of course, he might have seen something very important. Game-changing, even. But, of course, it was absolutely nothing like Dave to see important things until it was entirely too late. Who did he have to blame but himself?
Everyone else, of course.
Sighing, Dave turned his gaze to the portraits that sat on his shelf. He wasn’t the sentimental type, but, well… He wasn’t the sentimental type. Past tense. Having a bunch of your kids die tended to change some things about you.
He regarded the images somberly.
Will was such a sweet kid. The last one you’d expect to get shot. But that also made him the likeliest. After all, that’s what happened to sweet kids, wasn't it? It had happened to Brian, too. When you’re in peril and you can’t stand up for yourself, you get a bullet in the fucking head. No golden forehead charm could deflect that. Dave sniffed a little, and took a long drink of his beer.
And then there was Mia. Christ. What a character. And yet, Dave found himself thinking that her loss was perhaps one of the most profound ones the world would ever know. He knew he was wrong for allowing himself to choose favorites and value one life over another, but… Mia was something else. She was unstable. She was terrifying. She was a psychopath. But there was something beautiful about that. She was all of those things because she was supposed to be. They had always been there. They were not defects. They were features, woven into her DNA as concretely as the color of her hair or the shape of her face. It was part of who she was... It was who she was. And now it was all gone.
Nothing personal, of course. Purely scientific. She was a marvel, biologically. And they all were, to be fair. But that Mia... she was something else. Sometimes it seemed like she was more scyther than anything. Real scientific potential there. If he was wise, he would have tested her more when he had the chance. He should’ve prodded her more. Picked her mind apart and figured out what she really was on the inside.
Well, there was nothing on the inside now, nothing but worms and earth, and there was no sense in moping over it. Dave finished his beer, then crushed the can in his hand and threw it over his shoulder haphazardly. It fell with a clink amid a pile of similarly crushed cans, at least three dozen in number.
It was going to be a long-ass fucking day.
- - -
"Your honor, if i may.” Daniels’ voice was so damn smug that Katherine could hardly resist leaping over the bench and socking him in his face. There were two reasons she couldn’t do that, however. Firstly, public opinion already erred on the side of Pokémorphs being exceptionally dangerous and quick to violence, so her case would certainly not be helped by flagrant aggression. Secondly, her hands were roses, and so she suspected they may not be very good for punching anyway.
“The plaintiff raises valid points, of course,” he continued snidely. Grr. “Points worth considering. However, it seems to me, with all due respect, that Ms. Kerrigan is gracefully failing to address the mamoswine in the room, as it were.”
The judge arched an eyebrow. “That being?”
“Ms. Mia Kerrigan, your honor.”
The audience burst into quiet but energetic chatter.
Of course, Katherine thought, pushing air through her teeth. I knew this was coming.
“Order!” the judge cried, and the room fell silent again. “Continue, Mr. Daniels.”
Daniels happily obliged. “Mia Kerrigan was a proven psychopath. All witness accounts corroborate claims of her violence and dispassion. She attacked with little provocation, and herself provoked others, seemingly searching for reasons to fight or even creating them where there were none. Such behavior is consistent with the observed behavior of scyther, and in human beings w ould be described as antisocial to the point of justifying civil commitment. If the animal genes could have affected the mind of Mia Kerrigan in such a way as to make her unfit for human interaction, your honor, why should we assume her fellow Pokémorphs are any better off among humans? After all, we do know that some of the surviving Morphs were personally responsible for the tragic deaths of several men of the Church of Holy Truth.”
Katherine stood abruptly, heat rising to her face, heart leaping in her chest. How could he just say something like that? “I object, your honor,” she said through clenched teeth, summoning all the tact she could muster. “The kills made by the Pokémorphs are shown by the court of law to be in self-defence, and are not valid evidence against the humanity of our kind.” Even as she said it, she could feel Daniels’ smug grin. It doesn’t matter, he’d be thinking. The seeds of fear have been sown. “Mia Kerrigan was a psychopath, it’s true. There’s no worth in denying that. However, her mental state is not indicative of any of the rest— there is no evidence to suggest that any of the other Pokémorphs are psychopathic in the least, and none of us have committed violent acts apart from the Church of Holy Truth incident, which as i stated previously was self-defensive. And, for what it’s worth, you don’t put psychopaths in asylums. They walk free just like everyone else, until they commit a crime. Which Mia didn’t.”
Daniels’ grin had faded. She was right, and he knew it. Or he knew she was technically right, at least. If he was anything like his cousins, Katherine knew he was far more malicious than he was letting on. But you couldn't lash out in court, though Katherine almost wished he would. Then everyone could see what an irrational, hateful sham he was once and for all, and the support of the judge would be hers for certain.
No one else spoke, so Katherine continued. “Besides, that’s a matter of mental stability, which, while admittedly influenced by our Pokémorph genes, has nothing to do with our status as human. Is psychopathy not a condition affecting many ordinary humans as well? Your honor, I believe the truth is evident here. Despite our minor differences in appearance and disposition, we Pokémorphs are no less human than any other person in this courtroom. Our segregation is unjust and should be repealed immediately. I see no reason to believe otherwise, and none has been presented.”
And that was true. Daniels had sure said lots of things about Pokémorphs over the last few hours, most of them bad and some of them true. But none of them had anything to do with their status as human. And that’s what the case was about. She hoped the judge could see which side of history was the right one as plainly as Katherine did.
The judge’s softening impression implied that she agreed. Katherine's heart fluttered in her chest. “Well said, Ms. Harrison.” Daniels tried rather poorly to keep his frustration from spreading to his face as the judge spoke. “The court rules in favor of the Pokémorphs. They are hereby excluded from the provisions of the Dangerous Nonhuman Act, and otherwise protected against further discrimination by the full power of this region’s constitution.” She slammed her gavel with a resounding and unbelievably satisfying crack. And it was all over. “Case dismissed.”
Katherine fell into her seat, lightheaded. And for the first time in a decade, free.
- - -
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck?” Dave sounded more angry than excited, as he often did. But in truth, his heart was leaping in exuberance. “She did it. She really fucking did it. Holy shit.” The case had turned so quickly. Daniels' argument was built on pillars of sand, it was true, but even still... Muttering to himself, Dave looked around for his daughter before remembering they no longer lived together. Fuck, how long had it been? Three years? And he still expected her to be around. Christ.
He reached for his phone and began punching in Jean’s number before anxiously holding the device to his ear, leaning forward in his chair with anticipation.
After a few moments of droning beeps, he heard her voice. “Hello? Dad?”
“Jean,” Dave said, the name coming out more as an energetic breath than a true utterance. “You… You’re… Fuck.”
“So you heard?”
“Yes, of course I fucking heard. Wait, are we talking about the same thing? Did you watch the fucking—”
“Of course I watched it. We all watched it.”
“So you know that—”
“Yes, Dad. I know. I’m in town right now, actually. God, I forgot how awesome it is out here! And did you know you can pay for things with your phone now? You don’t even need credit cards! I mean, people are staring at me weird still, so that's not different, especially now that I’m yelling into a phone, and they probably don’t know that I’m allowed to be here yet so it’s all really weird, but still! Wow! It’s so great to be back downtown, I can’t even hardly believe it! And I know I can’t really be Sarah Hooter anymore, not with my body like this... And that sucks but i’m over it so whatever, but maybe I can be an actress in something else now? I've, like, totally got my foot in the door. And I think Katherine should be a lawyer forever now, she was so super good. And Gabriel could toootally go into construction or mining or something, i mean he totally jives with rocks and stuff, and Jack… Well, I don’t know! But we can all have jobs now, that’s the point, and we can finally be with people, and even if they look at us weird that’s fine because we’re free, and—”
She continued prattling on for a good little while, and Dave stopped listening to the words. What she was saying wasn’t the important part. Instead he clung to her voice. The energy, the enthusiasm. It had been gone for years now. Ever since she’d evolved, there had been something off about her. This was it. The cheer. And now it was back again, right here, ringing in his ears.
His daughter was happy again.
Dave reveled in it as she spoke. And when she finally finished, drawing for breath to replace all of air she’d just displaced while talking, Dave found himself at a loss for words. For once.
It was a good thing Jean couldn’t hear him cry through the phone.
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