This is a fic I wrote live on the discord server. It's been cleaned up but it's still a lot different stylistically from what I usually write, and there might be a lot of errors since...I didn't really intend to write a fic yet.

The origin of this distressing piece was a an Elton/Milka storyline in which the two are separated from each other for a decade, both of them going their own paths but never forgetting the other. If you want to find out more, please join the psychowhatsits discord server, where I post all my miserable nonsense, or leave a comment requesting more information.

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Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Milka. Milka had a cat she named Shadow and they were the best of friends. Shadow was old and wise, and he always knew where she was when she was invisible. He was always there for her to talk to when she needed someone, and sometimes when she didn't need to talk at all.

But one day, Shadow grew sick. He had a feline illness of some sort. Degenerative, incurable. The veterinarian Mom took him too said that he had a kidney disease that caused him to suffer greatly. The vet said he did not have much longer to live, and recommended euthanizing him. Mom, who loved Shadow just as much as Milka did, could not bring herself to do it. "He's a tough old bastard," Mom said, more to herself than Milka. "He'll pull through."

But Shadow was not going to pull through, and he knew this. He told her that he was done with this world, and wanted to escape his pain. Milka loved Shadow, and was determined to help ease his way out, even at great emotional cost to herself. Milka waited until Mom was at work, keeping herself invisible until she left. Then she gently scooped the distressingly light Shadow up into her arms (no need for a cage) and made her way to the vet's office. She vanished them both and sneaked onto a bus heading that way.

When she arrived at the office, she immediately signed in and waited. The receptionist allowed her to do it because she assumed that her parents would eventually walk through the door, but after 5 minutes, she grew concerned and asked Milka where her mom was. "At work," Milka replied tersely. She was not one for words to begin with, and certainly was no conversationalist while her cat was in agony in her arms.

"Oh dear." The receptionist told her that she needed to have a parent with her, and to please come back with Mom later.

Milka told her that she didn't want anything fancy done- she just wanted the vet to kill her cat so that he could rest in peace. "We were here a few days ago," Milka said, setting her face into an emotionless mask and swallowing back her tears- getting hysterical would not do her nor Shadow any good- "Dr. Irvin even said we should do it, but my mom wussed out."

The receptionist did not know what to say. Luckily, Dr. Irvin was nearby, and she was able to call him over. He said the same thing as the receptionist, his eyes sympathetic.

"You know this kind of thing...it costs money."

"I have money," Milka said, and it was true. She had 32 whole cents in her pocket.

She promised to pay him after the procedure was done, but he still refused. "Fine then," she spat out, before promptly departing the office.

Dr. Irvin went out after her, but she and her cat were both gone- vanished into thin air!

"Now what?" Milka wondered. She could not allow Shadow to keep suffering like this- she could practically feel how much pain he was in with every ragged breath he took- but she couldn't just throw him into the street and wait for a car to run him over! She had a knife at home- a few of them, actually- but could she really do the job herself? "I have to. Nobody else has the guts to do it."

So she went back home and got her nicest, sharpest knife- the one she had pocketed from their neighbor- and then went to the kitchen to end her friend's pain. She paused before laying him onto the floor, thinking that the setting was all wrong. Shadow agreed. The maple in the park he thought to her. It was where he'd been born, 14 years ago.

Milka nodded and took him there. It was not far away, and she set herself down between the roots, her back against the tree. She sat there, invisible, with Shadow in her lap, for some time just petting his still soft black fur and bracing herself for what she had to do.

"Hello."

The voice startled her. She looked up, and was surprised to see an older woman with silvery gray hair pulled back in a bun and gray suit staring down at...her? No, it couldn't be, she was invisible.

"I can see you," the Gray Lady said, smiling in a way that deepened the crows feet at the corners of her eyes. "And that knife you're holding over that poor animal." She pointed over to a spot next to her. "May I sit? "Milka nodded, suspecting that this strange lady would not take no for an answer anyway. "You're going to kill that cat." The Gray lady said as she sat herself down. It was not a question.

"You gonna stop me?" Milka asked, re-appearing and bringing the knife up just a tad. She didn't want this woman getting any funny ideas.

"Not exactly," The Gray Lady replied, shaking her head. "I'm just wondering how you're going to go about doing it, that's all."

That was an admittedly good question. Milka shrugged, her stomach twisting into knots. "I don't know. Whatever's the least painful for him."

The Gray Lady nodded "A cut across the throat would be your best bet," she said, her tone matter of fact. "You'd have to make a clean cut though. If you miss the artery you'll just cause him more pain." She reached her hand out, her index finger extended. "May I demonstrate?"

The Gray Lady seemed to know what she was talking about, so Milka gave her the go ahead. She leaned forward and drew her finger gently across the line of Shadow's throat. "That's where you want to draw the blade. He'll bleed out before he feels a lot of pain."

"Thanks for the tip."

"No problem. But really, this is a messy way to do it," the Gray Lady said, eyeing Milka with amusement. They could have been talking about a picture Milka was planning on painting.

"I already tried the vet and he said they wouldn't kill him with drugs. It's my only option."

"Hmm, not necessarily," the Gray Lady said. She looked at Milka expectantly, a glint in her eye."There's another, better way."

Milka made an impatient noise. "Well spit it out already. This cat wants to be dead."

The Gray Lady reached out and gently took Milka's hand in her own. "How good are you at Psi-blasting?" she asked.

"I'm okay, I guess." Milka said, narrowing her eyes. "But I'm not going to blast him to death."

"No, you aren't," The Gray Lady said, drawing Milka's hand over Shadow's head. "I want you to channel your psi-blast energy into your right hand. Don't worry about putting too much in, I'll channel the excess away from him."

"What's that gonna do?" Milka said warily. "I don't want his head to explode."

"It won't. It'll administer enough of a shock to shut his brain off, like a switch. He'll feel no pain, I promise." The Gray Lady's smile did not diminish as she spoke of extinguishing Shadow's life. "Say your final goodbyes, and then, when you're ready, activate your psi-blast and concentrate that energy in your hand."

Milka decided that she had nothing to lose, and that if the Gray Lady was wrong, well, she'd just kill her too. Milka leaned forward and gave Shadow one final kiss and scratch on the chin. "Goodbye, Shadow. I'll see you when I see you."

I'll be waiting for you.

Then Milka did as the Gray Lady told her. She closed her eyes and brought all of her aggressive energy to her head, and then shoved it all down her arm. It was not a comfortable sensation- it burned weirdly- but she endured it The energy went to her hand and then, with a jolt, to Shadow's head. He twitched once, and then went limp, all the pain and tension leaving his body in an instant.

Just like that he was gone, gone forever. Never would he bump his head against her's or approach her with his tail sticking up in the air, bent at the tip. She would never find him relaxing on her bed when she came home from a long day at school or out on the streets. It hit her like a fist to the face. Her lips tightened, but the sobs that wanted to escape were too strong for them, and they crashed through like a battering ram at the gates. She began to cry, great heaving sobs racking her chest. Tears streamed down her face in an unstoppable flood. Her body felt frozen, arms stiff and heavy at her sides. She could not even bring them up to cover her wet face.

The Gray Lady pulled her close, her hand running through Milka's hair soothingly. She said nothing, because there was nothing to be said that could make this loss any less devastating. She just let Milka cry, without giving any signs of impatience or irritation. It was strange. Nobody had ever let Milka just...cry before. Was this what it was like to have a mother?

Eventually, the tears dried up, and Milka lapsed into a numb silence. She stared out at the small pond before them. Right now it was pretty and blue, the light from the sun glimmering off of it. An absurd feeling of peace came over her- she was glad that Shadow's last moments had been spent in such a pretty place.

The Gray Lady let her sit there quietly for a few minutes more before removing her arm from Milka's shoulder. "We have to go see your mom."

Had she not been so exhausted she probably would have questioned this. She rose, Shadow's body still in her arms. "Why...why are my shorts all wet?" she said, noticing a wet patch on the fabric.

"The body expels upon death," the Gray Lady answered. "Just be glad it was only piss."

They walked out of the park and headed towards a sleek looking Lexus parallel parked by the curb. "Is that your car?" Milka asked.

"Whose else?"

"You're lucky it didn't get stolen."

"Luck has nothing to do with it." The Gray Lady walked over to the trunk of the car and opened a suitcase inside of it, taking out a pair of jeans and a folded blanket. "Here," she said as one of the back doors opened on its own. "Wrap your cat in this and put these on." Milka obeyed mechanically, gently swaddling Shadow's corpse in the blue, faded blanket. She tucked him the backseat before getting in herself. The Gray Lady waited outside of the car as Milka changed into the jeans provided for her. The jeans fit perfectly. Huh, Milka thought as the Gray Lady got into the driver's seat. That's weird. Why did this woman, who was a complete stranger to her, happen to have a pair of jeans that were just her size?

The car began moving. Milka leaned forward, noticing a tear in the knee. "These are mine," she said, slipping her finger into the frayed hole.

"Yes," the Gray Lady replied.

"Why do you have my jeans in your trunk?" Milka asked, her gaze switching over to the blue blanket Shadow was wrapped in. "That's my blanket, too. Or one of them anyway." She looked up, her eyes meeting the Gray Lady's in the rear-view mirror. They were, unsurprisingly, gray. "Why do you have that? Why did you have my jeans?"

The Gray Lady didn't answer her. "What are you going to tell your mother?"

Milka narrowed her eyes. "The truth."

The Gray Lady laughed at that. It annoyed Milka, hearing someone laugh at a time like this. But she supposed that she had to be grateful to this strange woman- she had made Shadow's end a lot easier.

They rode the rest of way to Milka's home in silence, though Milka wanted to know how the Gray Lady had known where she lived. They proceeded up to Milka's third-floor apartment in much the same manner, with Milka cradling Shadow's body like he was a baby. He was still so limp- shouldn't he have stiffened up by now, she wondered.

"Rigor mortis doesn't set in until hours after death," The Gray Lady said as they walked down the hallway Milka lived on.

Milka looked up at the lady and sniffed, her nose still stuffed. "You know a lot about dead things."

"That I do," The Gray Lady said before knocking on Milka's door.

"Oh, there you are," Mom said when she saw Milka standing outside of the door. It was what Mom always said whenever Milka came home or reappeared after spending a long period of time invisible. Mom turned to look at the Gray Lady, not all surprised to see her there. "Where did you find her?"

"At the park."

"Oh."

The Gray Lady gave Milka an encouraging pat on the back as they entered the living room. "Show your mother what you've been up to."

Milka did, unwrapping the blanket just enough so that Shadow's face was exposed.

Mom became hysterical upon seeing Shadow's lifeless body. "What did you do?" she asked, tearing her hand through her hair. "Milka, what the hell did you do?" She backed away until she hit the couch.

Milka frowned. "I..." she looked up at the Gray Lady, who nodded at her the way a parent would to a child up to bat at a baseball game. "I did what needed to be done."

Mom sank down shakily onto the arm of the couch. "Oh God," she said, her trembling hand coming to her mouth. "You killed the fucking cat."

Milka swallowed tightly. "Yeah. I did." She clutched what she had done to her chest. "I killed him. I killed Shadow." It felt strange, saying the words out loud. It hadn't felt real until this moment, like her confession made it so.

"Jesus Christ," mom muttered, running one hand through her hair, and then the other. "Why did you go and do a thing like that?"

Was Mom seriously asking a question that dumb? " I didn't do it for fun," Milka said, frowning. The whole experience had been downright miserable, but she'd had to do it- it was her responsibility to her dearest friend in the world. "He was in pain. He wanted to go."

Mom tucked her chin into her chest, whispering something too low for Milka to hear. Then she looked up at the Gray Lady. "You see? That's the kind of stuff psychopaths do." She shook her head, an unhinged laugh escaping her lips. "I can't handle that. I told them I couldn't handle that."

Milka flinched. Her mother had called her many things in the past, but psychopath had never been one of them, and for some reason it felt like a much heavier condemnation of her character than anything else her mother had ever said about her. "I'm not a psychopath," she muttered, bending her face forward into the blanket. She could feel Shadow's body in it, but it offered her little comfort.

The Gray Lady seemed unperturbed. "Do you want to take care of the corpse, or shall we handle it?" she asked.

What do you mean by we? Milka thought, side-eyeing the Gray Lady. What was this woman doing here? Why did she have Milka's things in her car, and why did it seem like Mom had talked to her before?

"Yes. No. God, fuck. I don't know." Mom pressed her face into her hands, her fingers clawing inward at her face.

"Hm. Milka, go put Shadow on the table there," The Gray Lady said, pointing over at the coffee table. "Make sure you keep his body in the blanket."

Milka glared at the Gray Lady, who stared back at her impassively. "What's going on?" she demanded to know.

The Gray Lady shrugged. "You've already said your goodbyes. Give your mother a chance to do so as well."

That was not what Milka had meant, but she obeyed the order anyway, doubting that the Gray Lady would give her further information otherwise. She moved the coasters and cups off of the table with telekinesis and set Shadow's shrouded body delicately in the center of it. He looks like he's on display at a funeral, she thought.

She heard footsteps and turned to see the Gray Lady standing in front of Mom. "Get him cremated," she was saying, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a folded stack of bills, a one-hundred at the front. "There's no place to bury him in this city."

Mom accepted the money, her movements sluggish. "And the rest of it?" she asked.

"It'll be in your bank account by tomorrow."

"Oh." Mom then turned her attention to Milka. For a moment, they both just stared at one another. Sometimes they did that- Mom was never one for physical or verbal affection, but on the days when her mood was good she'd look at Milka with something akin to love in her eyes. Not this time- this time there was nothing but weary contempt. Milka tried to school her expression into a matching one and wasn't sure if she was successful. "You," Mom said, pointing an accusatory finger at her, "you're going with her."

Milka felt something like lead drop into the pit of her stomach. "What?"

"You heard me." The 'you little monster' went unsaid, and yet heard by all in the room. "I clearly have no chance of raising you right. Maybe this lady'll have better luck."

Milka's mouth dropped open in shock. She looked at her mom, and then at the Gray Lady, and finally, back at Shadow. She wished with all of her heart that he could rise from the dead and give her some advice, or some words of comfort, but no, he couldn't. He was dead and gone and she'd never hear anything from him until she joined him in whatever place the dead went. "Why?" she asked, unable to think of anything better to say.

Mom let out another bark of laughter, the sound more bitter than any Warhead she'd ever eaten. "Why? What do you mean why?" She shook her head, her shoulders shaking with an unidentifiable emotion. "Don't make me say it, kid."

Milka had half a mind to demand that she do so. She was so sick of her mother's cowardice- she'd had to take care of Shadow because of it, and apparently it was forcing her out of her own home. But she didn't, because deep down, she was as afraid of what Mom had to say as Mom was of saying it, and Milka had used up all of her courage sending Shadow to his final resting place.

She turned her attention to the Gray Lady instead. "I'm not going with you," she declared, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes you are," Mom said sternly, like she was telling Milka to eat her green beans or else. "Your stuff's already packed."

"I don't care, I'll get new stuff." She planted her feet, glaring at the Gray Lady as though that alone would cause her to disintegrate out of existence. "If you want me to go with you, you'll have to catch me."

The Gray Lady shrugged. "Alright."

Milka vanished, and then darted around the coffee table. She heard her Mom scream "Goddamnit!" as she passed the back of the couch and ran toward the hall that led to her room. Her plan was to jump out the window over her bed and levitate down to the street. From there she'd hide out in Knoxville's various alleys until Mom and The Gray Lady both gave up on finding her.

Her plan failed, for her door shut with a slam just as she was about to cross the threshold, hitting her in the face. Her body was then forcibly dragged down the hall and back to the living room by the same telekinetic force that had closed the door. An electric shock hit her brain, forcing her to reappear as she was dumped unceremoniously back to the floor.

The Gray Lady grasped her arm before she could even attempt to run off again. "I've caught you," she said plainly, the only sign of triumph on her face the slight raising of a fine, gray eyebrow.

Milka squirmed and struggled, but it did her no good. The Gray Lady's grip was like iron. She cast one desperate look back to Mom."Mom, please," she begged, pulling away from the Gray Lady so hard that it felt like her arm would pop out of its socket, "don't let her take me away! Don't...don't!"

The begging didn't do her any good either. Mom looked away, and then rose and left the living room, her eyes on her feet as she walked away from her daughter for what seemed like for good.

The Gray Lady held onto her all the while. "I could do this all night," she said. The statement was only that- a statement, and not any sort of boast. "Go ahead and tire yourself out. It'll just make things easier for me."

That did it. Milka knew that she was probably going to end up losing this battle, but she had zero intention of making anything easier for this...person who had walked into the worst day of her life and somehow made it even more horrible. She let out a ferocious snarl as she opened her mouth and bit down on the flesh of the Gray Lady's hand.

The Gray Lady was not impressed by this move. "Are you finished?" she said, her expression not altering one bit even as Milka's teeth penetrated through her skin. The metallic taste of blood was on Milka's tongue, and yet the woman spoke as though Milka were only a toddler having a tantrum at the grocery store. It was enough to make her feel foolish. Milka slowly opened her mouth and released the Gray Lady's hand, the fight having gone out of her. She swallowed, the blood sliding down her throat, and swiped her tongue over her teeth to clean the red off.

The gray lady raised her hand, examining the blood and bite marks like she was planning to grade Milka on them. "Very good," she said, taking that same hand and lightly touching it to the side of Milka's head. The sensation was as light as a butterfly alighting. And then everything went dark.