[X] My Assistant

[Master Houndoom]

It was a much, much brighter day in Arthro town when the reunited group arrived. The trip home had gone late into the night, and there was another session of sleeping under the stars followed by a poorly received early morning to make it back to the pokécenter.

Amongst the humans, there wasn’t a whole lot of talking. Reilly was silent, his brow furrowed, as if he knew something had gone on, but just what it was eluded him. It had to be a strange feeling, and it was causing him to act strangely in the eyes of his companions: He didn’t complain or grumble under his breath. He just walked along, silently, contemplating.

Tuesday, too, was quiet, but the two older teens were far too used to that to have it be of any concern. However, she, too, was engaged in a strange activity. Every once in a while, she would stare at one or the others of the older two of the group; at one point, she had reached out and touched Jaima’s wrist, just above his pokégear. When he’d looked down to see what she had wanted, he caught her staring at where her hand touched his, then, pulling away, watching her fingers. Jaima had looked at Meiko with a little concern, but both had agreed; the two had been through something that was borderline traumatic, and didn’t need a worried big brother, or teenage jokes, or a hovering big sister type. So they walked, and waited, and made sure that mother the other two did was seen as scornful or wrong.

Unless they had actually done something scornful or wrong, but there were no incidences of this to speak of.

Finally, they made it to Arthro town. Jaima arranged for the rooms, four which, if needed could be downgraded to two, while Meiko took the two youths and all of the pokemon, including Jaima’s to see the nurse.

“OK,” Jaima said, holding up the keys. “We can do this two ways: We all get separate rooms, or we can split two rooms: boys and girls. Up to you two.”

Meiko smiled at him, if a little sadly, and Jaima winked at her in response. She blushed, but if Reilly or Tuesday saw it, neither mentioned it. Jaima was being quite accommodating. In fact, the only arrangement he wasn’t about to allow was Tuesday and Reilly in the same room. Not after the kiss he’d seen them swap the last time they had arrived in town.

And since he wasn’t going to let them do it, he and Meiko couldn’t, either.

Finally, the choice was made, and Reilly and Tuesday took the keys to the rooms they had chosen and went ahead to make their way to bed. Jaima and Meiko stayed in the small lobby.

“Worried?” Meiko’s face had a knowing smile on it, and it was Jaima’s turn to blush.

“A little… It’s obvious something happened…” He shook his head. “But if I try to pry it out of them, they’ll just shrink into themselves. Right?”

Meiko grinned. “I’m so glad you’re open to learning… it would take so much longer to train you up properly…”

Jaima smirked. “Speaking of training…”

“I’ll be good!” Meiko said, biting both lips and looking, at least partially, mock frightened.

Jaima looked toward the Nurse’ station, already darkened for the night, but Meiko reached down and took his hand. “They need rest too, Jaima. We’ll be OK. And if anything happens, Mercury can get out of her ball…”

* * * * *

Nightwish was out of her ball, lounging against the shelf, sighing. Usually, by now, she’d have the gist of her newest mark. By now, she’d be planning on how to get the most out of the trainer, then leave them with a post hypnotic suggestion that would have them breaking her poke ball thirty minutes after she’d taken their food, potions, and, a few times, money.

Not this time. This time, the trainer had gotten under her skin. This time the trainer had reminded her of Nightwish’s first, when she had simply ben called Gothi. When she had been…

Ugh. She had almost said “happy.” How terribly cheesy.

But she had been. Meiko reminded her of what Cyndy could have been, had…

Cwap, she thought as the tears came. Cyndy had gotten sick, and, though the gothita was almost too young to know what was going on, she knew her trainer wasn’t going o get better.

Cyndy had had cancer.

Then her uncle ‘took in’ Cyndy’s pokémon, and made the mistake of talking to his partner about how much gothitelle could get with certain individuals. The mental pictures were almost as bad as the words.

But Cyndy… before that horror, before she had run away for the first time, Cyndy had been a good, happy, kind trainer. And now, despite her hardships and fears and other issues, Meiko was a good, happy, kind trainer, with good friends…

Nightwish felt the tears leaking down her face. gweat. just great…

There was a pop, and two arms enfolded her from behind. Nightwish tensed, but then, slowly, relaxed. You’we wucky i don’t thwow you thwough a waww.

There was no reply, but the hug got tighter, and Nightwish sighed and relaxed. Thanks, Mewcuwy…

What are friends for?

I’m just now stawting to wemembew…

[Umbrae Calamitas]

Retelling the tale of what had happened in a past that hadn't happened had been difficult and emotionally draining, but it was nothing compared to this.

It was very hard to admit that you had been wrong. Harder still to admit that you had been cruel, unjustly. And while the one that you had been unjust to did deserve your apology, it was sometimes not an easy thing to give. Not for any belief that it was undeserved, nor for any belief that the one who should be saying it was above such things. Merely that the knowledge of that wrongdoing was embarrassing to someone who should have known better.

Tuesday owed Professor Oak an apology.

She owed him more than that, but she didn't know how she could give him anything more than an explanation and a sincere apology. She wished she had more to offer, but...

Tuesday sighed. She had been sitting in a chair before the blank video screen for ten minutes, rolling Ashleigh's pokeball between her hands. The houndoom himself was outside of his pokeball, sitting beside her calmly, a curious expression widening his eyes, his head tilting to the side as he studied her.

"Did you enjoy spending time with Professor Oak, Ashleigh?" Tuesday looked at the houndoom, whose thin devil-tail wagged slowly back and forth. Tuesday took it for the affirmation it was. "I didn't ask if you were done helping him with the problem he had been having."

In fact, she hadn't asked anything. Tuesday had demanded. Rudely. In a manner that she had never spoken to the professor before, and which he had not deserved. She had been almost cruel.

Roll, roll, roll, the pokeball turned between her palms.

At her side, Ashleigh let out a whine and leaned forward, nosing her arm up until he had slipped his head beneath it and rested his hot chin on her leg. Tuesday gripped the pokeball in her left hand and ran her right over Ashleigh's head, rubbing his skull between the large horns that stretched back across his head.

"Would you mind if I sent you back to Professor Oak? I like having you here," she said quickly, fingers tracing along his left horn, delicately pressing against the sharp tip to test the point. "I'm not sure if he still needs you, though." She murmured under her breath, "And I shouldn't have demanded you back like I had. It wasn't nice."

Sometimes, if she allowed her mind to wander away from pokemon, away from field research, and concentrate instead on people, on her family and her friends, Tuesday found herself wondering if Professor Oak knew how much he meant to her. She'd never really told him, not outright. She'd been too shy to say so, even to the man she hadn't been shy around for years. Tuesday loved her parents dearly, she did, but they hadn't had the time for her that they had given to Brone and Anika. Professor Oak's children were grown and even his grandson didn't visit much anymore.

Perhaps it was silly of her, or even wrong, but he had always been like family to her, even since he had started her mentorship. He didn't take the place of her father, and no one could replace her uncle, and she didn't see him as a grandfather, but somehow, he had made himself a place in her life. Or, perhaps, Tuesday had dug him out a place and set him there, without bothering to consent him. Without bothering to consent herself.

She wondered if he knew that. Sometimes, she thought about telling him, but she could never quite work up the nerve. She wouldn't say it today. It would feel too much like she was trying to guilt him into not being angry with her over how she had acted toward him, and that wouldn't be fair.

Maybe she'd never tell him. That seemed safer sometimes.

Seemed like lying, too.

Ashleigh was wagging his tail. It didn't appear disenchanted by the idea of returning to help Professor Oak, and Tuesday could only assume that whatever he had the dog helping him with, the houndoom was enjoying it immensely. She was glad. Tuesday loved all of her pokemon, but she could admit that she was closer to some than she was to others. She and Ashleigh had a very close bond, and she missed the houndoom when he wasn't traveling with her.

Tuesday reached forward and turned the vid screen on, dialing in Professor Oak's lab number. The next pokemon center they passed, she would call in again, she promised herself, to check and see if Professor Oak had solved the problem at the lab. And if he hadn't, well... Tuesday trusted him to take care of Ashleigh, and after the way that she had treated him, she really didn't have any right to say no.

She was just finishing up the apology in her head when the blank screen came to life to display an unfamiliar person.

"Good morning."

Tuesday blinked. If not for the familiarity of the video screen's view of the desk, Tuesday might have thought that she had dialed the wrong number. Sitting at Professor Oak's desk was a young brunette girl, a few of years Tuesday's younger - perhaps eight or nine. She had her hair tied up in pigtails and was staring into the vid screen with wide eyes, dark brown like chocolate, and an expression of cheerfulness that could in no way have been faked.

Tuesday didn't like the girl. At all.

"If Professor Oak available?" she asked, a little too loudly. "I need to give him my field report."

Liar. She was due to mail her field report after she had finished it. Part of her felt like squirming, but the larger part firmly squished that sensation and didn't lift her eyes from the brunette staring at her through the screen.

"Are you Tuesday Berdison?"

"Yes. I'm Professor Oak's field researcher. His assistant." Her fingers were starting to ache from where she had them gripped too tightly around Ashleigh's pokeball, so she relaxed her hands.

She curled her toes tightly in her shoes again. It hurt a little. She ignored it.

"Professor Oak isn't available right now," the little girl said, looking down at the desk as though she had a script written there for her to read off of. "Can I take a message?" She looked up at the video screen again, all smiles.

Tuesday had the sudden, startling urge to bite her nose.

"Are you sure?" she asked, raising both of her eyebrows. "Could you check again?"

"I... um." The girl looked around, as though looking for someone to come take her place in front of the video screen, and pursed her lips. Her eyes squinted a little, but she hopped up from the chair. "Okay. I'll be right back."

Tuesday rolled her eyes and set her elbows on the counter, leaning her chin against the heels of her hands, fingers curling loosely over the lower part of her mouth. Ashleigh's pokeball rested on the counter in between her elbows.

It was in this position that the little girl found her when she returned to the computer. "Sorry," she said, a little breathlessly, struggling into the too-tall chair. "Professor Oak says you can call back later... oof. He says he can't talk right now. He's fixing a problem."

Tuesday felt an uncomfortable knot tighten in her stomach. Right. Probably the problem that he had needed Ashleigh's help to fix, which hadn't been dealt with completely when she demanded the houndoom back with her. He'd probably been trying to deal with the problem on his own, without the houndoom's help. And he must not expect Tuesday to give Ashleigh back, if he didn't come to the phone to talk to her. Asking for Ashleigh's help again wouldn't be horrible - he shouldn't have to ask again - and he should know she wouldn't deny him. Except she had been very rude before, and maybe he thought she would be just as rude this time, or demand something else. Or maybe he didn't even want to talk to her. Maybe he didn't want her as his assistant anymore, because she was so rude.

Maybe that's why he had someone answering his phone for him. So he wouldn't have to talk to her and tell her he didn't want her to be his assistant anymore, or his field researcher. Maybe the little girl was his new assistant, since Tuesday had done such a great job mucking it all up.

"Oh! You have a pokeball ready!" Tuesday glanced up at the little girl. She was practically bouncing in her chair, making her pigtails leap up and down. "Do you want to swap your pokemon for some others? I know how to do it. Professor Oak showed me how."

Tuesday wanted to slam the phone down and cut the conversation off. Professor Oak had never shown her how to operate the machine from his end.

Her teeth clenched to match her curled toes. "I'm trading Ashleigh for five of my other pokemon." Her lips curled a little. "You know how to do that?"

"Yep!" the girl said happily.

Tuesday crossed her arms over her chest. "Great." She rattled off a list of the pokemon she was transferring to her party and pouted as Professor Oak's little assistant rushed off to fetch them for her.

"I can't believe she's his new assistant. She's so..." She grumbled, searching for a word. "Small!"

Ashleigh let out a snort that sounded a little too humorous and Tuesday turned her pout on him. He let his tongue loll, completely unfazed. Tuesday pushed his head to the side gently. "Brat dog," she murmured, giggling as she leapt up, throwing his forelegs over her knees.

"You'll behave for Professor Oak?"

"Houuu."

"Well. You'll behave well, right?"

"Doooo."

"Good boy." Tuesday rubbed him between the horns again. Ashleigh's eyes rolled and his tongue lolled. Tuesday wished she had spent the morning giving the houndoom a bit more of this treatment. He deserved the attention and she hadn't given him nearly enough.

"Is that his favorite spot?"

Tuesday jumped at the sudden voice, and Ashleigh replaced all four paws on the ground as she turned to the video screen. The brunette was watching her intently.

"I can scratch him between the horns while he's here if you want. I'm good at taking care of pokemon. I get my pokemon license next year."

Nine, then.

"Ashleigh is helping Professor Oak with something very important," Tuesday said. "He doesn't have time to be petted." She rubbed the houndoom between the horns with her thumb, ignoring the steady line of drool that was dripping from his chin to her pantleg. "Let him out right as soon as he's been transferred, all right, so he can go help the professor."

The girl looked a little disappointed at being told she couldn't pet Ashleigh, but Tuesday ignored it. She didn't want the girl to scratch his horns trying to be all pokemon caregiver. She didn't know what Ashleigh liked.

"Do you have my pokemon?"

"Right here," the girl said, moving the pokeballs out of sight as she situated them into the machine. "You sure you only want the five?"

"I have Zorro," Tuesday said.

"Oh! Like the swordfighter? He's my favorite."

Tuesday narrowed her eyes and looked away from the video screen. "My Zorro is way cooler," she said.

"Oh. Well, okay!" The girl bounced cheerfully, pigtails flapping. "I'm ready when you are."

Tuesday leaned down and kissed Ashleigh on the top of his muzzle. "Be good."

"Doom."

She sucked the houndoom back into his pokeball and set the orb into the machine. "All right. Transferring now."

"Wheeeeee!" the little girl squealed, as she pressed the appropriate button. Tuesday rolled her eyes and huffed.

~*~

Reilly watched Jaima and Meiko leave and didn't follow. His sister Joyanna, the second oldest, sometimes looked like that when she was with her boyfriend, Samuel. They were likely about to have a moment, and they could have it well out of eyesight of him. Yuck.

He turned and looked as the runt left the room, as well, no doubt to go and fetch her pokemon back from wherever she had them sent. Why she didn't have any but her two pokemon with her was beyond Reilly. It was foolish, considering they had been wandering in the middle of the wilderness and two dual-type pokemon could have some serious type disadvantages. It was good that Jaima told her she needed to fill her party up with some others.

Reilly pushed his chair back to stand, only to be startled when one of the pokeballs on his belt activated. In a flash of light, his buneary appeared, standing on the top directly in front of him, feet straddling his breakfast plate, furry paws crossed over her chest.

"Morgan," Reilly began, his lips curving into a smile.

"Send me home."

The smile slipped pretty quickly from his face. "What?"

Morgan stomped a tiny foot, her voice echoing around in his head from her use of telepathy. "I want to go home!"

"But, Morgan, we can't just leave. I'm doing my Furoh journey now." He switched to thinking, knowing she would read his thoughts, so he wouldn't look like an idiot talking to an angry bunny.

"I don't care if you stay. I want to go home!"

It took a minute for things to snap together for him, but when they did, Reilly swallowed. "Oh." You don't want to stay with me."

The buneary snorted, her eyes rolling. "Duh. I want to go back to Joy and Dana," the buneary said, and Reilly thought about his older sister and her husband. "He wasn't weak."

"I'm not weak," Reilly said, the defiant statement erupting instinctively from him.

"You don't even remember," Morgan said, and the disgust in her tone was unmistakable.

"You don't remember anything?" The surprise and confusion from Meiko and her gothita had only added to Reilly's confusion, and the memory of that only added to his discomfort now. He shifted his weight to his right foot, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm... there were a whole lot of psychic pokemon, Morgan."

"Everyone else fought them off. The only one who couldn't break their trick was you. You needed help. Because you're too weak." She turned her nose up, tossed her head to the side as though her ears would flick over her shoulder like a ponytail. They merely bounced idly, wobbling a little after the fact, but her body language was pretty clear. "I don't want a weak trainer."

Reilly lowered his arms to his sides, hands clenching into fists and unclenching compulsively. "I'm getting stronger," he murmured, but his voice was soft, pleading.

The buneary sniffed at him, but didn't bother gracing that statement with a reply.

Reilly lunged forward and swept her up into his arms. The buneary let out a startled squeak, but Reilly ignored the sound. His long arms curled around her soft belly and he clutched her to him like he might have clutched a stuffed animal, if Reilly had ever been young and girly and prone to hugging stuffed animals. Which he hadn't. He'd been born a manly man, so shut it.

"I don't want you to go, Morgan. Can't you stay? Can't I convince you?" He ignored her struggling limbs, tiny claws digging into the backs of his hands as her hind legs pounded relentlessly against his forearms. She was speaking in her mind, demands to be sent home that he ignored, tried to shut out by forming a candy-coated wall in his mind like she had taught him a long time ago. He painted it blue in his mind, because blue meant calm and peaceful and quiet, and he wanted her to be still. He wanted her to stay.

His arms hugged her tight against him, and he ignored the prickle of tears despite how he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face against her furry ears. "What can I do to convince you?" he whispered.

He gasped as the blue candy shield shattered under her mental battering.

"SEND ME HOME!"

Reilly nearly dropped her.

There had been no echo in that cry. There was no privacy in it. The whole of the pokemon center had gone utterly silent as the buneary's telepathic screech had reached everyone within its walls. More than one person was looking in his direction, studying the scene. He saw one of the nurse's pick up a phone.

Reilly buried his face in his most loyal pokemon's fur and nodded. "All right, Morgan. All right. You win." He pulled away, wiped his eyes quickly and composed himself. "Come on. I'll send you home."

He pretended not to hear the hiss of "Stupid" sent in his direction, but it hurt. He headed toward the video phones where Tuesday had previously gone, trying to piece together another mental shield.

Gummy, maybe, this time. Like gumdrops, so things would bounce off.

He thought maybe he'd paint it pink, just to keep a little of her there.