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…
“Port Barley, huh?” Darryn tapped the tablet in his hands, drawing the map of Furoh down into a zoomed-in view of the town. Far north of Petropolis, Port Barley was rather predictably a seaside town but other than that there didn’t appear to be anything special about the grey-brown smudge on the screen.
The high-rise apartment that Darryn shared with his cousin, Lyla Moore, was a temporary accommodation set up by his sponsor, Elliot Weathers. The famous fashionista had snapped Darryn up after his last Contest win and ever since had been pulling in a great deal of favours for the young trainer to maximise his skills with not only his Pokemon but also his voice. Deciding that musicality bonded to a beautiful display summed up both of Darryn’s Appeals so far, Mr. Weathers had taken it upon himself to guide Darryn into the route of a specialist – leading to a number of magazine interviews, a radio appearance and numerous photoshoots that left little to the imagination of the teen’s fans. Now, however, Mr. Weathers had something else in store.
<<When you reach Barley you will go straight to the local theatre where they practice Appeals and Contest battling. A film crew will capture what’s needed but really I want you to get the opinion of a fantastic producer while you are there and to take on board any advice she has to offer.>>
Darryn wasn’t sure who this producer was but if Mr. Weathers had decided it would be a good idea to meet her then she was bound to be worth a visit. Maybe she could offer an expert opinion on his ideas for the upcoming Appeals that he had worked on with Victor? And maybe, just maybe, she could get lost and Darryn could take a little time to recover!
“Just my luck.” Darryn snorted after he had put the phone down and sat back into the plush sofa. “Damn it.”
The Co-Ordinator dropped the tablet and ran a hand through his red-brown hair, sitting still for some time while trying to relax for just a moment before the weight of his reality decided to weigh him down once more. Everything was just too much – it hadn’t been long since he had been fighting for his life in the forests around the Boutique of Bonnies Breeding Center and, more recently, at the epicentre of a disaster at the Petropolis Grand Invitational. Too many times had he found himself at the mercy of some criminal or raging Pokemon and now he had the added pressure of his Co-Ordinator sponsorship. And, of course, the lingering issue of his ‘disability’.
Press releases, tv appearances, advertisements, guest-presentation, appeal demos and even opening performances for events Furoh-wide awaited him (according to his mentor) with no end in sight for an untold number of years. Darryn rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. What had he gotten into now? How much time would he have for his original mission in Furoh? When would he go back to Pokemon beautification and healthcare? Was he already too far out of practice with his berry remedies and treatments? In fact, when was the last time he had used a beauty treatment on his Pokemon that he hadn’t bought in a store and had made it himself instead?
A long breath passed Darryn’s lips. The expectation for him to become some sort of star wouldn’t go away with someone like Elliot Weathers riding him so hard and the desire he had for success was too powerful to let him back out of his newfound career as a Co-Ordinator, so what were his options? With a deep sigh, the young trainer stood and made his way to the bathroom – a shower usually helped him relax enough to at least clear his thoughts. He was under the hot running water for only a minute or two before he heard the faint thud of the front door and his cousin Lyla’s voice ringing through the apartment.
Tuesday had wanted to share a room with Reilly.
It was something she wouldn't admit to the others, but when discussion of their sleeping arrangements had come up, her first thought had been that she and Reilly would room together. They had been sharing sleeping quarters for the past few years, after all.
Except they hadn't.
That was a false memory. Logically, she knew it was false, and she knew she couldn't base current or future interactions with people on memories that were fabricated, so sharing a room with Reilly would have been wrong. Not only would it have given all the wrong signals, since the two of them were hardly friends much less anything more, but Reilly seemed to have no memory of anything that had occurred during their false life. In fact, when he was shaken from the illusion, everything that the not-Fae, that the psychic pokemon had filled their minds with seemed to vanish from his. He couldn't recall what had happened, but he also wasn't stuck remembered such traumatizing events as the deaths of their friends.
Tuesday knew that Jaima and Meiko were well and alive and here. The memory of their deaths had been yet another fabrication, one well-done and visceral, cutting into her mind with a grief that had seemed all-too-real. And she supposed the grief was real, since she had mourned her friends, honestly believing them to be gone. So the memory of their death was a false one, although the memory of the grief was not.
It was very confusing. Everything was twisted up in her head, and while she could filter things out here and then, label this real and this fabricated, the process of extracting one from the other was mentally draining. It was also emotionally trying in some parts, disappointing and embarrassing in others, and an all-around mess.
It bothered her that she hadn't figured it out that everything was a lie. There were gaps in their lives. Great flashes of memories - high-profile points - in her life, like the attack that had killed Jaima, Meiko, and Darryn, were like extravagant pillars decorating a mausoleum. Where normally their would be equally extravagant stone walls with designs carved into them, however, there were only cardboard cut-outs of a life. She was left to assume what most of her life had been from the crayoned colorings on cardboard lies that she didn't realize, her entire focus stolen by those extravagant pillars of memory.
The memories were well-done and hard to shake. Some of them were so tightly wound up within her, she had a difficult time discerning which was fact and which fiction. During their trek back from the underground caverns that had been what the psychics warped into a kingdom, Tuesday had struggled with the fact that Jaima and Meiko were here, that they were alive.
The memory of their death was as clear to her as the memories of growing up with Brone and Anika, chess matches and quiet disagreements. The attack of the dragons was just a real as watching her uncle play chicken with gravity.
That one night that they had camped out on their way back to Arthro Town, Tuesday had lay in her tent, trying to figure out what was real - if Jaima and Meiko were alive or dead. At one point, it had occurred to her that their presence here was an illusion. That they really had died in the dragons' ambush and the Fae' - not-Fae's, the psychics' - trickery was making her believe that they were alive. She was so confused, and that confusion had persisted throughout the night, keeping her awake despite her exhaustion, until the sun had risen and she had quietly packed up her tent to continue their journey to Arthro Town.
She'd found her only solace in that she could test their presence. So she'd found herself reaching out, touching Jaima with fingertips that burned at the contact. If they were illusions, then their existence was so ingrained into her mind that she was being tricked into feeling flesh, as well. If that were the case, then what point was there in fighting it? If the facade was so well-done that they were real in her mind... she wouldn't fight it.
Because their deaths were real - not, wait, fake. Their deaths were a facade... or real.
The deaths were... up for debate. The grief, though. The grief had been very real.
Tuesday had found herself reaching out and touching them on occasion as they traveled. Jaima and Meiko hadn't said anything, but Tuesday hadn't missed the concerned looks tossed her way, or the ones shared between the two of them. If either of them realized that Tuesday's fingers eventually gravitated to their pulse-point, one of the sure-fire promises that they were alive.
Unless her mind was fabricating that, too, but Tuesday didn't want to think about that. She really didn't. So of course, she did. Constantly.
If she had to make a guess one way or another, though, Tuesday would guess that the trickery had been their deaths, and that they really were alive. Their pulse thrummed against her fingertips whenever she briefly touched her fingers to their wrist. She could see they breathed. She could feel them, and they were warm. And the not-Fae had been psychics, and Jaima, Meiko, and Darryn's deaths had hurt. The grief had hurt. Their return... still hurt, but it was a healing kind of hurt.
She just needed time. Time to set her mind to right, to determine... who she was. Because she was still confused. The memories were so wrapped up together, she having trouble determining not only which was real, but which was hers. Or which her she was... the researcher in training or the dragonslayer.
She knew she wasn't a dragonslayer, but... she had been. Was.
She was just so confused.
It was impossible to deny it. The Joys knew it. The entering and exiting customers could see it. Some of the pokemon could see it.
There was a couple in the lobby, and they were snuggling.
The reactions were many and varied. The joys, almost unanimously, smiled in their general direction, but thought little of it otherwise. Older couples, even younger adult couples, tended to think it sweet, also gracing the pair with unseen smiles, the elders fondly remembering their own young love days.
Children, on the other hand, if they were awake when they came in, varied from fascination to disgust. It was quite funny, in retrospect.
The pair themselves did not seem phased by any of this, but couples seldom are, to a certain point in their relationship. And, to be honest, they were only snuggling. There was no PDA, no kissing, no roaming hands. Simply leaning into each other, arms wrapped around one another, enjoying the warmth and scent (even though, admittedly, if this had been planned there would have been showering first, the other found little to no fault in the smell of the other. At least not enough to complain about it) and touch of the other.
Meiko peeked up through her bangs, causing Jaima to blush in a way she still found delightful. “Huh,” she said, blinking her large blue eyes.
“What?” Jaima said, his own light blue eyes very slightly enlarged by the prescription of his glasses.
“Well,” Meiko said, pulling back enough to look Jaima in those eyes. She briefly got lost in them,then flushed in a way Jaima still found attractive. “Tuesday took a key. And Reilly took a key. But they never said if they wanted to sleep alone or with one of us…”
Jaima blinked at her, owlishly, then, with an exaggerated motion, pulled a hand away from her and placed it over his face. She giggled.
“Well, then it’s our choice.” He looked down at her.
She looked up at him.
He looked down at her for a little longer.
She bit her lip. He wanted to, but refrained (the five year old girl making exaggerated gagging sounds helped in that regard).
Both of them were thinking the same thing. And both of them, reluctantly, discarded the idea.
We could get our own room if we wanted…
“I’ll go get spare keys.”
“I’ll go with you.”
They rose, blushing a bit, and and walked to the desk. The Joy on duty smiled at them, and nodded her head in understanding, giving them both the keys to the two rooms she had assigned and taking back the oohs that would, until someone else came in, remain empty.
Jaima and Meiko went down the hall and to their rooms, stopping in front of Jaima and Reilly’s room.
“Goodnight, Jai-chan,” Meiko whispered, planting a kiss on the conner of his mouth.
“Night, Mei-chan, Jaima murmured against her cheek.
They separated and Jaima went into his room, creeping past the sleeping (possibly) boy and into the bathroom to take a quiet shower.
Meiko stepped to her room, seeing what she first thought was Shadow sleeping against the door. Confused, she checked to see if she had gotten the wrong room, but no, that was Tuesday sleeping in her bed.
She noticed that the lucario in front of the door was leaner than Shadow. It must be Zorro. She nudged him with her foot, but he didn’t budge.
She tried poking his cheek, but he slapped her hand away, gently, and kept right on sleeping.
Finally she huffed. “Really?” Instead of complaining further, she managed to get behind him, wrap her arms under his shoulders, and drag him into their room. “Kami-sama, you got heavy,” she grunted before managing to close the door.
* * * * *
Shut. Up.
Mercury tried to put a paw over her mouth and stifle her giggling, but they escaped anyway. Nightwish glared at her from across the room. Mercury took a moment to compose herself.
Come on, Nightwish! It was hilarious! I actually thought you had teleported!
Nightwish crossed her arms and turned her back. Fweaking wucawio came out of nowhewe… This admission brought about a fresh round of giggles from the kirlia. Worse, Nightwish felt the corner of her own mouth twitching upwards. She tried to deepen her scown as she turned, which only resulted in Mercury having a harder time stifling her giggle reflex.
It was, for a short time, a vicious circle. Mercury would almost get her mirth under control, when Nightwish would try to contain her own, sending Mercury into fits trying to contain this new development, which would, in turn, amuse Nightwish again. Finally, with a look, both gave up, laughing their blue and black crested heads off. And this is what Shadow, Desertdancer, and Tsunami saw when they, too, left their poke balls.
Tsunami and Desertdancer took one look at the giggling psychics and returned to their poke balls, Desertdancer with a confused, “shrew?” which caused another paired howl of laughter.
* * * * *
The following morning saw a very subdued group. Not out of any lingering sadness, though for two of them it was possible. Not, either, out of guilt. It was simply one of those kinds of days. A trying event, even successfully navigated, tended to wear one down.
It was Jaima’s insistence that they meet for breakfast. He had texted Meiko through their poke gears to alert her, and the promise of no training (though it had always been elective for her) prompted her to agree.
Soon, the four were gathered around the table and eating, a continental breakfast that was satisfyingly vast for such a small town. Jaima caught Meiko’s eye, then, gently, looked at the two younger teens.
“So… what exactly happened..?”
“That. Was.” Darryn stared with wide eyes, capturing the shattered remnants of the training dummy outside of the Petropolis Pokemon Center. Splinters of wood and shreds of rope that had bound the target figure together decorated the ground around the single stump of wood that still stood, buried in the ground. Smoke drifted lazily from the stump’s jagged top, cleaving its way through the dancing motes of dust that still struggled to settle after the blast. “Amazing.” He finally whispered.
“Like, totally.” Lyla murmured her agreement at his side, her how eyes just as wide as her cousins.
They stood like that for some moments, taking in the unexpected destruction of the training dummy, before the Co-Ordinator turned his attention to the Pokemon in front of them.
“Lima… This is your power?” He asked her, quite seriously. The powder-pink Clefairy turned to face her master with a look of astonishment on her face, paws held out before her to show off their slowly dissipating pink glow. Her face was, like the two humans, in a state of shock after displaying an attack that none of them knew she had.
“Fair…” Lima whispered, gazing at her paws intently, a slow smile spreading out over her face. “FAIRY!”
“Now, that is a Contest winning move!” Darryn grinned down at her, scooping the Fairy-type into his arms for a hug. “You’re just amazing, Lima!”
“Yeah!” Lyla pumped her fist in ther air. “Didn’t I say Fairy types were, like, so cool!?”
“And you weren’t wrong!” Darryn laughed. “Lima’s Moonblast is just… awesome.”
The walk down the narrow dirt path was long, but it passed in mere seconds. There was no dirt on her shoes to suggest that she had been walking through a forest, and the lack of proper pressure against the bottom of her feet suggested that this was not quite real.
The first reaction to this realization was panic. Tuesday immediately through that she was once again a victim of the not-Fae's thrall.
But that didn't make sense. Mostly because she was suddenly aware that she was potentially a victim. Unless, of course, they made her aware that she was a victim in order to throw her off from the truth, because that awareness was sure-fire proof that her mind was, in fact, fully hers.
She was beginning to dislike the propensity psychics had for messing with her head.
The path widened as the tree ended, opening up to a field of knee-high grass that seemed too vibrant a shade of green to be real. There was not a dandelion or weed, flowering or not, in sight, which also promised this to be a falsehood. As Tuesday stepped through a wasit-high gate that seemed to somehow block her vision of anything beyond it depsite its height, she promptly chose to label her current experiences as a dream.
There was a long, rectangular table stretched out in the middle of the field. At one end, it was perhaps two inches high, but slowly inclined along its length until it was three feet at the opposite end. There were chairs and cushions of various shapes and sizes all along it. The lower end lacked any seating at the head, but the high head of the table was where a throne was situated - a masterpiece of silver, encrusted with topazes and sapphires, with a great green cushion on the seat.
The long table was loaded with plates, silverware, teacups, and all manner of dessert. Slices had been cut out of cakes and pies. Smalll cupcakes sat on small plates, waiting patiently to be eaten. But every place at the table that was occupied was done so by a mannequin - a faceless, immobile creature of plastic and unoriginality.
Tuesday studied each of them as she walked by, but they were all the same. They sat in the same position, feet flat on the floor, arms positioned at their sides - not dangling, for mannequins lacked the limp ability to dangle. Their heads faced the front, and they were without faces, without expression.
She recognized the scene, of course. Alice in Wonderland. The teaparty. Even someone who had never heard Lewis Carrol's name spoken would know the scene. But it didn't work. Not with mannequins. Forget the lack of proper madness, there was no life.
Tuesday stopped at the head of the table and studied the mannequin to the left of the throne. It was facing a large slice of what looked to be chocolate and cherry cake with cream icing decorated with chocolate shavings. It was actually Tuesday's favorite type of cake. But, of course, her subconscious would know that. She hoped her subconscious hadn't given these mannequins consciousness. How horrible would it be to stare at something you were unable to touch for the forever length of a person's dream.
She reached out and gripped the mannequin's wrist, bringing the right arm up to rest on the table, next to the fork by the plate.
"And a very merry unbirthday to you," she murmured quietly.
"Why, that's quite nice of you to say so!"
Tuesday squeaked, leaping away from the mannequin. It turned toward her, and suddenly, it was Jaima.
He was dressed in brown pants and a yellow-green shirt, over which a dark green overcoat was worn. His blonde hair, usually so carefully plaited, had been freed from the braid and was hanging down his back. Around his head, great tufts of it stuck outward from beneath a dark green tophat with a black silk ribbon about it, into which a card had been stuck. Instead of reading 10/6 as it should have, the card looked as though a four-year-old had taken a pack of crayons to it. It was scribbled over maddeningly in what looked to have started out as a complicated mathematical or scientific equation, and had descended into madness. The ink seemed to write right off the page, and as she watched, the card changed, new writing replacing the old as though there was some sort of temporal displacement continuing work which should have, logically, been finished long before the card was placed behind the ribbon of a tophat.
"A very unmerry birthday to the you that is not here," Jaima said. He picked up his piece of cake, stuck it into his fork, and ate the utensil with exaggerated sounds of delight. "Would you like a piece of silver? Or perhaps a bit of ware?"
"I... no, that's okay." Tuesday watched him crunch the metal fork in his mouth and swallow without dying, so that was a plus.
"How about some tea?"
"Tea... would be..." Wonderful? Pleasant? Enjoyable? Preferable to eating utensils? "Lovely."
Jaima nodded rapidly and yelled down the table. "Tea for the unbirthday girl!"
"Tea!" someone answered, and Tuesday looked down the table to see Meiko.
She was dressed in a drab and patched brown vest and slacks that seemed unable to decide if they were black or a kind of muddy green color with yellow patches of cloth sewn on the knees. She looked much the same as she usually did if you ignored the clothing change, but for the large pair of ears that stuck up from her head. There were considerably larger than made sense, one sticking straight up, the other flopped over in an ill-looking manner. Both were covered in thick, unkempt grey fur that was torn out in some places and matted in others.
Tuesday took a moment to study Meiko's face, looking for whiskers. She was both relieved and disappointed to find none.
"Tea!" she shouted again, clapping the lip heavily on top of a teapot. She then pulled a staple-gun from a super-tiny pocket in her vest and began to staple the lid fast to the teapot. It took perhaps twenty staples before she was satisfied enough to throw the teapot down the length of the table.
"Thank you," said another voice, and Tuesday looked over to see Darryn sitting next to Jaima. He looked... perfectly normal, just as he had in the times she had seen him before. He was eating a vanilla cupcake, but paused as the teapot came soaring over his head.
"Hold this for a moment, would you?" he asked his saucer, as he lifted his teacup from it. With a delightful chirp, the saucer grew a mouth and ate the other half of the unfinished cupcake, belched, wiped the corners of its mouth with the tablecloth, and settled back on the tabletop. Darryn, meanwhile, lifted his teacup above his head and said politely, "If you please."
The teapot, which had already flown past his head, halted and reversed direction, pausing over him long enough to refill his empty cup with tea.
"Thank you," Darryn said, and waved the teapot onward. It abruptly continued its flight across the table.
Jaima, rather than duck, pulled a giant pocketwatch from nowhere and opened it. The teapot sailed into the face of the watch and disappeared. Jaima closed the pocketwatch with a snap and threw it at Tuesday.
Startled, she caught it, stumbled under the considerable weight, and landed on the cushioned throne with the pocketwatch across her lap.
"Ah, I see you've got a watch!" Jaima declared pleasantly. "Might I see the time?"
Tuesday blinked, confused, and obediently pushed the button to snap the pocketwatch open. There was no clock face, but the watch emitted a whistling sound, like a kettle that had come to boil.
"Tea time!" Jaima declared. "Glorious! Pour us a cup, would you?" And he held his teacup out as the pocketwatch tilted on its own and let tea pour out into the waiting cup. It then leaned the other direction, filled the cup in front of Tuesday, snapped shut, and promptly disappeared back to the nowhere from which it had come.
"It's so nice to have visitors," Jaima said pleasantly. "Why, just the other day, I wasn't speaking to Mei-chan about how wonderful it's not to have no one come around for birthday unparties." He held out a plate of dessert. "Piece of cake?"
"No, thank you." I'll never eat sugar again, she thought, if this is what it does to my imagination.
Jaima shrugged and set the plate down. He swiped his finger through the dessert and licked some cake off the icing. He received a teacup to the head courtesy of Meiko, who giggled madly at her rather incredible aim.
"I don't suppose it's possible to go right for the Red Queen and get it over with?" Tuesday asked, massaging her temple, even though she didn't really have a headache. She was pretty sure she deserved to have one.
"Nope, no queens here," Meiko said, "unless you count Darryn."
"And we only count sugars here," Jaima said, nodding profoundly. "It helps the tea steep."
"Steep the tea! Steep the tea! Steep the tea!"
Tuesday lay her head on the table and put her arms over it, trying to drown out the cry that the rest of the table had taken up. She had thought her reality was getting weird, but this was just downright bizarre.
"Mi hermana," a tinny voice called. Tuesday glanced around, surprised. She hadn't realized Zorro was here, too. "Mi hermana. Down here."
Tuesday looked down. There was a tiny little Zorro, about the size of her hand, sitting on the edge of her teacup. As she looked at him, he waved and had to catch himself before she fell into her steaming tea.
"Mi hermana is having strange dreams," the lucario said sagely, looking around. None of the normal-sized people seemed to have taken notice of the small lucario. They were currently putting butter and jam into a small pocketwatch to get it working again.
"Tell me about it," Tuesday murmured. She rested her chin on her crossed arms, her eyes level with Zorro's tiny head. "How did you get so small?"
The little lucario shrugged, apparently unconcerned by his stature. He moved over to sit on top of the handle of her teacup, resting his rear paws against the rim so he could watch the others. "Why is everyone acting so... loco?"
"I don't know. I guess everything in real life is being so crazy, my brain decided it needed to be nuts here, too."
"Es no loco in real life. No more than es normal."
"I just spent who knows how long thinking my best friends were dead and I was a traveling dragonslayer who wanted to marry a boy I barely know." She gave the lucario a challenging look. "Explain to me how that's not crazy."
"No as crazy as this." He waved his hands at her brain's rendition of Alice in Wonderland. "Was no reality, anyway. Was dream. This dream. Dream within a dream."
Tuesday rubbed her forehead. "I'm so going to have a headache when I wake up." She paused, then quickly looked at Zorro. "You're talking with an accent again. You'd almost stopped that when we were..." She made a vague motion at both of their heads. "Talking, during the battle. Why is it back?"
That goofy grin hadn't changed, despite his evolution, and Zorro wore it now as he dropped one paw from the rim of the cup to swing it idly. "I like it. Is fun to do." He shrugged. "I can stop if you want."
"No," Tuesday said, surprised, "you can keep doing it if you want. I don't mind."
The lucario smiled at her. "So... loco amigos are preferable to normal amigos?" He looked back at her. "You like this better?"
"Not really. I... I don't know what my brain is doing with this."
"Doesn't make much sense," the lucario admitted. "Amigos are not acting right. They are playing someone else. Even Darryn is acting funny, but he looks normal."
Darryn did look normal, but Zorro was right, the other boy was acting weird. A caricature to fit the role of someone in this setting. Not the friend that she had known, but someone entirely different, who didn't belong with her. A stranger.
Tuesday sighed, connecting the dots. "I'm trying to figure out who they are, not that they're alive again."
Zorro cocked his head to the side. "Were not dead, though."
"No... not really. But I thought they were."
"But weren't." He waved his hand like he was erasing a chalkboard. "Forget them being dead. Weren't. Skip!" He jumped to the other side of the teacup, balancing on the rim.
"Is it really that easy?"
"Is it really that hard?" he asked, not bothering to look at her. He walked along the rim of her teacup, balancing along the edge.
"Just... go back to the way things were before?"
Zorro shrugged. The action made him lose his balance briefly and he had to take a moment to right himself. "Can't forget, so..."
"Move on," she finished for him.
The lucario looked at her, nodding with a smile. "Whoa!" he said, losing his balance and tumbling into the teacup with a splash.
Tuesday grabbed the cup in surprise when, instead of a tiny lucario resurfacing, the brown tea turned a mix of blue, black, and cream. She stared at the disturbing concoction in concern. "Zorro?"
The lucario tea steamed a tinny voice. "Drink me! Drink me!"
The others were watching her.
"Would you like a piece of cake?" Jaima asked.
"How about some jam for your tea?" Meiko asked, stirring strawberry jam into her cup with a butterknife.
"Pass the cupcakes!" Darryn's saucer cried, as he sipped from an empty tea kettle.
Tuesday lifted the teacup to her lips and drank her tea. It didn't taste like tea or like she thought lucario would taste. It had a cloth-like texture and smelled a little like... dryer sheets. She set the empty cup down on the table, licking her lips to try and acclimate to the taste.
"A lovely shade of blue," Darryn said, and Tuesday looked down. Her arms were sprouting blue fur, and there were spikes sprouting from the backs of her hands. The bridge of her nose abruptly elongated into a snout and she could feel the tail as it appeared, pinned against the back of the throne.
"How nice to see you, Zorro!" Jaima said.
"Tuesday," Meiko smiled, "you make such a wonderful lucario."
Jaima held out a plate of silverware. "Would you like a piece of fork?"
They listened. For that, no one could fault them. They sat there, watching Tuesday, watching Reilly, and listened. On the outside, it seemed like they were listening to a little girl tell a story, which is how it appeared. They did not interrupt, and they did not ask questions unless there was a proper lull to do so. They just listened.
But Mercury saw.
She saw the inner turmoil that blazed like a darkened fire in the pit of Tuesday’s being. Like lead meeting the furnace, it was a molten pit in her stomach, belied by her expression, which showed no turmoil, only confusion. Mercury didn’t know if it was a sign that the inner turmoil was melting Tuesday away, or creating something new.
She would have to ask Shadow.
Reilly was a miasma. Upset, confusion, unease, anticipation, and not a little bit of fear. It was like a modern art painting on his face, on his heart. Gently, os as not to break the pact she and Nightwish had made (and enforced upon themselves with Morrigan), Mercury began to smooth the colors, only to find another presence doing the same, as if on the other side of a globe. She peeked at the same time the other did, and saw Nightwish’ presence. Both ducked away, chagrined. But Reilly visibly relaxed.
Meiko was a mess. Mercury physically saw her creep her hand into Jaima’s as the story reached the fact that Tuesday had presented was their deaths. If the girl wasn’t careful, if Jaima was any less resilient, she would have broken bones. But her heart was a uniform ocean blue of sadness and despair, not on her part, but for Tuesday, for what she had gone through.
Mercury didn’t dare reach out to smooth that. It wasn’t her place, not anymore. But she did, with Nightwish’s permission, allow the gothorita to convey Mercury’s own knowledge that if anyone know what a life-changing, life-making event was, it was Meiko. That and trust. Lots and lots of trust.
Jaima’s face had hardened into stone, but, again, Mercury saw the truth. Where Meiko was an ocean of sadness and confused anger, Jaima was an inferno of rage and pained disbelief. Mercury four herself busy with him where she could not be with the others, dousing self-recriminations and vengeful actions. He sat, placidly, nodding and offering support with seeming aplomb. But his instincts were battling, and it could be seen by those in the know, by Shadow and Mercury and Meiko if she’d look, in minor twitches in his eyes and mouth.
Shadow, too, was tense. Coiled. Ready to spring at his Sensei’s command. She put a cool, soothing mental hand on his mind and felt him grip it with his own. Something passed between them, then, but she willfully ignored it.
Finally, Tuesday’s story trailed to an end, the girl petering out like a fountain running out of water. Jaima reached over and took her hand, and, to Mercury’s amazement, offered a small smile. “That was quite an ordeal, Tuesy…” He looked at Reilly, not letting go of his unofficially-adopted sister’s hand. “How about you? Are you OK?”
Reilly blinked at him, then at Meiko, who, oddly, looked as if she had tried to reach for his hand and thought better of it. Finally he looked down at his lap, once again mildly surprised, as if he’d expected something there. “I… I just got mindraped by pokemon, and I don’t even have the memories to enjoy them… does that sound all right?”
That’s the bettew offewing, yes, Nightwish blurted out. Mercury looked at her, as did Reilly, but Nightwish, oddly, ducked her head and remained quiet.
Meiko swallowed, having a harder time with her emotions than Jaima seemed to. Mercury could tell by his voice that it was a close thing. “OK. Tuesy, you go get your pokemon. Reilly…” He was at a loss for words.
“Jaima and I have to plan for our trip to Port Barley. Tuesday, Reilly, we’ll run it by you when we’re done. You’re welcome to come, Reilly, if you want to,” Meiko smiled, tremulously. “Just give us some time, OK? We’re headed to Fidona ultimately!” She put up two fingers and stood. Jaima stood and rose with her.
Stay with Reilly, please, Mercury sent to her, and only her.
Nightwish nodded, but sent, quietly, How do you hewp someone deaw with beweiving a wie fow as wong as they have..?
Mercury floated behind Jaima and Meiko. You help them forget, Mercury sent back sadly, before a shroud went over the communication, temporarily stopping communications. She couldn’t let Nightwish know. Not right now.
She couldn’t admit, even to herself, that she’d seen this before.
* * * * *
They ducked into Jaima and Reilly’s room, and Meiko turned. Her face was heart stricken, and she collapsed into Jaima’s arms. “Oh, Jaima,” she whispered, no longer fighting the tears. “Oh, my word, Jaima…”
Jaima simply held her, his own face closed, rage etched in every line. Meiko swallowed her own tears and touched his face. “No,” she said, firmly, grabbing his chin when he didn’t look at her.
Jaima opened his eyes, his light blue eyes piercing her brown. She held his gaze until his just began to soften. “You are not at fault. I am not at fault.”
“I didn—“
“There’s no one to get revenge on, Jaima Kuonji. You didn’t fail her. It just… it happened. And she handled it as well as anyone would have.”
Jaima’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and Meiko pushed against his chest, not to get away, but to present herself more fully. “If you need to yell,” she said, “yell at me.”
He looked down at her, his conflict ebbing even as it railed, wanting some victim. She smiled as his face smoothed out. “It was horrible. Well, we’ve dealt with plenty of horrible. We’ll probably deal with more horrible than we ever wanted to when we were young. Tuesday will likely deal with all kinds of horrible, with or without us…”
Jaima sighed and pulled Meiko close. She continued in his ear. “So we’re here for her. And we were there for her. That’s all we can give, and it will be enough.”
Jaima nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, and Mercury, trusting Jaima in Meiko’s hands, and getting the signal from Nightwish that she trusted Meiko in Jaima’s, left them to deal with the repressed emotions.
* * * * *
To the odd observer (and, let’s face it, most observers are pretty odd these days), the two pokémon sitting at the recently vacated table as if they were humans was a sight. Not necessarily a strange sight. It had long been theorized that pokémon were near sentient, bolstered by psychics with IQs high enough to practically run entire organizations and pokémon who could learn to speak like a human, and hindered by slowbro, psyduck, and individuals that seemed, colloquially, ‘dumber than the dirt they ate’.
To the well trained eye, the two lucario only shared the similarities any of their species would have: The blue and black colorization, the long ears, the dangling organs theorized to be able to detect energies that their species were known for. One, however, was built on a stickier frame, his muscles like stone or brick beneath his skin. His green eyes were intelligent and shrewd, but showed a calmness, and, in this instance, resignation that seemed odd in alighting type.
The other was built on lean angles and graceful lines, and his golden eyes sparked with something that could be taken for mischief. Like his companion, he was exhibiting another emotion than the one that seemed etched on his being; concern.
<<Something is bothering you.>> The words were quiet, and golden eyes opened widely, showing compassion. Green eyes looked away.
<<It is nothing,>> the other lucario temporized.
The change in the first was immediate. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking. <<I see. That is a relief! I will tell la pequeño ballarina there is nothing wrong…>>
The foxlike ears at the top of the other Lucario’s head flattened backwards on his skull, and the first one grinned toothily. <<What would you have me say, then, Zorro?>>
<<The truth, of course, Shadow.>>
The two stared at each other, and, surprisingly to Zorro, Shadow looked away first. <<The truth is… I am embarrassed, and I am ashamed.>> Before Zorro could prompt an explanation, Shadow offered one, his voice lowering. <<Because I am jealous.>>
Zorro reacted as if struck. His eyes widened, and he watched the lucario he had thought of as an older brother for some time. Finally, his voice found him. <<Why?>>
Shadow chuckled, more to himself, as he could not meet Zorro’s eyes. <<It’s funny that you should ask that. I’ve fought with this since we discovered Sensei Tuesday’s abilities. You have been given a gift most lucario instinctively feel is far beyond the grasp of any of us; your trainer, your sensei, can tap into a power few pokémon can, and you have been chosen to guide her.>> Finally he looked up, eye to nose. <<And I see you shine so very brightly.>>
Zorro’s head tilted, then, oddly, he looked down at his arm. It was a bark of laughter that finally got Shadow looking at him eye to eye.
<<Ah, Hermano Mayor->>
<<You do not have to call me that, Z->>
Zorro raised his paw, his former humor all but gone. <That is incorrect, Hermano. There is still much for you to teach me. This vision, it is still new to me, and I will need help interpreting this. You know how to read it, how to make it your own. And you have a trainer that is honorable and has his own power! You do not think I would call just anyone El Guerro, do you? He has proven himself. As for how I shine, as you say,>> and at this, his eyes sparkled with the previously hidden mischief, <<Perhaps you do not see that you burn just as brightly.>>
Shadow blinked, but his ears slowly rose to their usual position. Zorro continued. <<You say I do not need to cal you Hermano Mayor any more. I say, please allow me to do so… and please continue to think f me as you have called me in the past.>>
Shadow looked at him for a long time, before standing, and bowing, deeply to Zorro. <<You have honored me. Thank you for your kind words in the face of my shame. Now. Let us go to our senseis… Little Brother.>>
It seemed, just then, the grin would never come off of Zorro’s face.
Darryn’s initial thought that the journey to Port Barley was going to be a long one wasn’t at all imprecise and, not for the first time, he found himself returning to that thought with every stop that Lyla had to make. With each pause in their trek, the Co-Ordintor silently considered just how wrong he had been and struggled not to lose his temper with his cousin. Such thoughts, however, were fleeting while situations such as the one at hand presented themselves en route to Arthro Town – playing referee in a Pokemon Battle.
An errant breeze caught the hem of Lyla’s white dress, making it ripple restlessly above her knees. Her lustrous hair was also taken up with the stirring wind, giving motion to her otherwise stockstill body. A long, pause of silence and calm passed between her and the small dark-haired girl facing her in the field to the side of the path which they had been taking north. Lyla took in a deep breath and her grasp around the Pokeball she held in one had squeezed tighter as she abandoned stillness and cried dramatically:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48S_q42YQkw
“Let’s do it, Nidorina!”
Marill met Nidorina in a head-on clash of Tackle attacks that sent both combatants reeling after the collision. Lyla and the teen girl who had named herself Cher upon meeting them both winced and urged their Pokemon to fight on. Ready and willing, each battle monster prepared themselves for another assault quickly and confidently.
“Nidorina, try your Scratch attack!”
“Keep away from it and shoot it down with a Water Gun, Suika!”
With a grunt, the foe’s Nidorina maintained the offensive, galloping towards the water mouse with gusto before launching into a final leap where it swiped for the blue Pokemon’s face. Ducking and rolling expertly sideways, Suika dodged the incoming attack before using his tail as a counterweight to roll around and behind his attacker. With a cry of “MaaaaaRILL!”, a powerful jet of water was spat forth into the Poison Pin Pokemon from the rear, blasting it into the dirt.
“Nidorina, no!”
“You’re doing, like, totally awesmoe, Suika!”
Darryn had to give it to Lyla this time – her studying and forward planning had bolstered her battling ability to a level that she had certainly lacked before. Maybe it had been the confidence boost that she had gained at the petropoli Grand Inviational that had brought her to actually challenge another Trainer to a battle or maybe it was her newfound obsession with the Fairy type. Either way, the change was clear – Lyla was getting stronger every time she had a battle and nothing seemed to slow her progress down.
“Now, Suika! Keep it up and attack with your Play Rough technique!”
“Nidorina, let it get in close and counter attack with Poison Fang!”
With a mighty cry, Suika threw himself upon the Nidorina with a rain of pink-aura-power-punches-and-kicks that struck the opponent over and over with no end in sight. The was, until, the poison Pokemon who had initially winced in anticipation recovered faster than expected and clamped its jaws around Suika’s ball of a tail. With a strangled squeak, the Marill’s attack abruptly ended and he started to thrash wildly, trying to dislodge his poisonous new accessory.
“What!? Suika, no!”
“Yes, Nidorina! That’s it!”
*So, it doesn’t look like Fairy moves are very effective against Posion types and, judging from Suika’s response, Poison seems to be much stronger against him than we previously thought. This must be a bad match-up for a Fairy type, huh?* Darryn mused to himself, opting not to get involved with any level of coaching for Lyla. If her growth was going to continue at such a rate then learning curves like these would only serve to help her in the long run.
“Suika, are you alright?!” Lyla worried over her Marill who had finally managed to wriggled free of the Nidorina’s toothy grip. The blue mouse staggered awkwardly and had developed a sickeningly purple hue around the tips of his ears – the sign of a successfully inflicted poison status. Lyla’s determination didn’t waver as she selected another move too soon. “Hold it together and hit back with Aqua Tail!”
“Don’t let it hit, Nidorina! Strike first with Venoshock!” Cher’s determination was equally as grounded as she ordered her final attack.
The jet of purple sticky ooze that the Nidorina spat free at Suika struck him square in the chest, catapulting him past Lyla into a nearby tree. He struck hard, a tired wail passing his lips before he slumped to the grass in an unconscious heap.
“Marill is unable to battle!” Darryn raised his arm on Cher’s side of the field and dropped the other on Lyla’s. “The winner of the match is Cher and Nidorina!”
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.
“THAT WITTWE-“ Nightwish strained to get loose from Mercury, who was struggling to restrain her on the psychic plane. Her form had not changed, except that her face was now a caricature of the normally pretty girl’s face, her eyes wide and filled with flame, her mouth filled with comically sharp teeth like fitting blades on a buzz saw, her hair standing on end as if she’d put a finger in an electrical socket while holding a pikachu in the other hand.
Mercury would have laughed if it wasn’t so alarming. She dug her heels in, yanking against the psychic pull of Nightwish’ momentum.
“Wet me go, Mewcuwy! I wiww kiww hew!”
Mercury strained, but finally felt that she could either stop Nightwish, or Nightwish would stop herself. “It isn’t worth it, Nightwish!”
“Wike heww, it isn’t!” She stopped, however, straining against Mercury’s pull, opting instead to glare over her shoulder at the human-form kirlia. The psychic plane they shared stabilized from the shifting, rolling area they were in to a more stable environment. A barroom.
“It’s not. Reilly wouldn’t appreciate the gesture, and you’d f-“ Mercury quailed under the gaze, raising her hands and finally letting the other girl go, watching as the fire, teeth, and hair shrunk down, revealing the normal face Nightwish showed in the Plane. “Fine, you’d feel vindicated, but Reilly still wouldn’t appreciate it, and he’d just turn against you.”
Nightwish stalked to the bar, slammed a hand down, and raised it to reveal a stiff-looking drink. Taking it in her hand, she quaffed it in one gulp before sitting on the barstool. “Fine. You’we wight. I’m wong.”
Mercury sat next to her, summoning her own glass in a similar fashion, if less violently. “It’s not about me being right, Nightwish,” she said, soothingly, before imitating the action. Whatever she was going to console Nightwish with was lost as she began to choke on the burning sensation of the false alcohol. She fell off of her barstool, barely catching herself on the bar, her face turning as red as the garrets in her hair. She gasped, trying to arch her breath. “Oh, mew, that is vile!”
“You don’t dwink, mowon!” But Nightwish smiled at her newfound friend’s antics, creating a glass of water and some milk to help soothe the kirlia’s violated sensibilities. “Besides, what passes fow awcohow hewe is pwobabwy poisonous to you.”
“So why do you do it?!”
Nightwish scowled. “Something I was taught. Anyway. That wittwe,” and the word Nightwish used was hardly fit for other psychics, let alone prying human ears, “just towd Weiwwy that he was weak and stupid and demanded to be sent home!” She picked up her glass and threw it, violently, at a wall, where it shattered, turned into sparkling dust, and disappeared.
Mercury looked like she wanted to do the same thing. Instead, she took a gulp of her milk. After a long, thoughtful pause, she looked over at Nightwish. “Why is this making you so angry?”
Nightwish didn’t answer, merely slamming her hand down on the counter and summoning another shot glass, downing it. With a hiss, she let the substance work it’s wonders, whatever those might be. “‘Cause I’ve been thewe.” She looked at Mercury, as if challenging her to deny it, or poke fun, or do anything untoward. Mercury merely looked miserable, which was not something Nightwish was willing to accept at the moment. “You want to know why I stawted tweating my twainews wike cwap? Because one of them made me happy again, onwy to give me up as weak when i didn’t evowve…”
Mercury leaned over and put an arm around Nightwish, who shrugged it off, not out of spite or meanness, but to summon another drink. “Befowe Meiko, I wasn’t going to twust anyone… now that I can again, I hate to see it betwayed. Awwight?”
Mercury sighed and nodded. Nightwish looked at her, leaning over just far enough to nudge the other girl with her shoulder. “Thanks.”
Mercury smiled, then summoned another shot glass. Nightwish stopped her before she could raise it to her lips. “I think you’ve had enough.”
Mercury smiled sheepishly, twitching her nose and turning it to juice before downing it. Nightwish rolled her eyes, then, looking thoughtful, toted her head. “Awe you going to teww me what you meant about hewping them fowget befowe?”
Mercury looked over, then across the bar at the mirror. Her face looked sad, worn, tired, but she smiled anyway. “Maybe later.”
Nightwish met her eyes in the mirror. “I’ww howd you to that…”
* * * * *
Jaima stepped out of his room at the same time Meiko stepped out of hers. Both had their backpack packed and ready. He nodded, then smiled. “I, uh… I had a thought….”
“Was it, ‘maybe we should ask Tuesday and Reilly if they want to go today or wait a bit, because maybe there was a lot to deal with and it was emotionally draining for both, and we could use a little rest ourselves, and Port Barley will wait one more day whether we leave now or tomorrow?”
Meiko grinned as Jaima blinked in surprise at her. “How did you know..?”
She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a crushing bear hug. “Just a hunch,” she laughed, before turning around and putting her bag back in her and Tuesday's room.
"We're nearly there, Ly." Darryn assured his cousin as they sank to the grass, resting their behinds from the jarring trot that they had endured over the most recent leg of their journey to Arthro Town. November the Rapidash and Hart the Sawsbuck moved away languidly, stretching out their backs and knees without the added weight of their riders to graze on the fresh grass nearby.
"We better be..." Lyla muttered, actively rubbing life back into her quads. Her complaints had slowed over the many hours they had spent in the 'saddle' but had not stopped completely. November's own complaints that her rider was an ungrateful little girl had shone in her Emotaglow, making Darryn chuckle to himself before correcting the equine's emotions to something a little softer and less likely to throw the girl from her back.
"Arthro Town is literally over that next rise so we should reach it at some point this afternoon." Darryn confirmed, loosening the rest of his Pokeballs. "So, while we take a break why not let our Pokemon enjoy the air out here?"
"Good idea!" Lyla brightened, fishing for her own Pokeballs from her bag. "The babies could probably do with a feed, too!"
Tuesday sat on the floor at the foot of her bed, a pile of vacant pokeballs in her lap and one occupied one in her hands. Five of her pokemon sat around her, determining who their present team was and offerring Tuesday their comforting presence.
And she did find their presence comforting, as she always did. It was not merely minor distress lingering from her conversation with the child who answered her call to Professor Oak, but worry over what her choices would bring.
She held Dante's pokeball in her hands.
She hadn't released him, yet. She didn't know if he was aware that he was back in her hold, that he would be a part of her party. She didn't know how much awareness of the goings-on pokemon had from within their pokeball. Part of her hoped that he was aware enough to note her concern. She hoped he could see how worried she was over her decision to withdraw him from the group of pokemon kept at Professor Oak's lab.
She didn't know if this was the right decision.
Her first pokemon. Her closest friend. The one whom she had relied upon for everything, who had been there for everything. He who had been the one she turned to for everything, and whom she had lost when he turned...
She did not want to say bad, but she feared that was correct.
She didn't know how Dante would react now. He may have calmed during his time outside of her party, aware that she would send him away if necessary. Or maybe ther was no calm. She may release him in a flash of red to find his temper still as fiery as his skin and unabating. She feared the answer, and so her answer to that fear was to delay.
She could feel Tempest's eyes on her from where she sat on the edge of the bed, just at Tuesday's shoulder. She wondered if the pikachu had spent any time with the charmeleon during their time outside of her party, however brief it had been for Tempest.
She knew the pikachu was annoyed with her. She had been able to tell, the way her golden fur had flared with static upon her release, spiking like an angry cat's. She'd held her reprimands within her, though Tuesday knew they would come in time. From all of her pokemon. She was getting a disappointed gaze from Odysseus, where the floatzel leaned against the windowsill. Spectre, too, looked aggravated, though he had not yet spent much time in her company and might have been annoyed on principle alone. It could be, too, that they were indoors. She had only ever released him when they were outside, and always in private, where she could train him quietly.
Outside of her pokemon, no one knew she had captured a zorua. She didn't know why she kept it a secret, not completely, except that she was still training him, that he didn't fully obey her, and she didn't know him as well as she would like. Ashleigh and Zorro had been different. They had felt connections to her that made them easy to interact with. Odysseus had been injured and less able to offer an argument, if he had had one. By the time he was healed, he was loyal to her. The other pokemon she had captured had not remained within her party right after the fact. They had been domesticated by other hands. In a way, it felt like cheating.
But Spectre was different. She wanted to do this right, her first field assignment. Of course, she had sent him off to Professor Oak's office after discovering that Zorro had been kidnapped by the psychic Fae-liars. She might have already mucked everything up, but if she could help it, she would do all else right.
The only one who seemed unaggravated was Virgil, but since she had rescued the grass-type from a fire some time ago, he had been at Professor Oak's lab. She'd released him into her group without a proper greeting due to her emotional state, and that was perhaps unkind, but he seemed well enough. Professor Oak must have accustomed him to the pokeball. Yet more she owed him for.
Tuesday rolled Dante's pokeball between her hands.
Time to find out where she and the charmeleon stood.
“Darryn, I seriously doubt that-“
“One sec, Ly.” Darryn hushed his cousin with a waved hand as he flipped the pages in the log book at the Pokemon Center. His eyes scanned the page, searching for his friends in the hope that one, two or all of them had somehow booked into the upstairs accommodation on their way through the town if they had even come this way en route to Port Barley. Names, arrival dates, departures and signatures decorated every line but it wasn’t long before he spotted a script that he recognised on the second page.
Tuesday Berdison.
“Tuesday’s here!” Darryn grinned, his search picking up pace. His others friends were not listed as arriving with Tuesday but that wasn’t a surprise – he had received a letter from Tuesday a while ago detailing that she had separated from Jaima and Meiko for a little while. Even so, that didn’t mean the others hadn’t passed this way, too.
More names, more dates, more signatures. Then, five pages back...
“Huh?” Darry frowned.
“What?” Lyla asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at the log book.
“Jaima and Meiko were here but they didn’t check out – there’s just a line through their names.” Darryn had never seen that done in a log book before… Surely something had been wrong that day. Maybe Jaima and Meiko had moved on without commiting for their planned stay? Darryn looked up from the book and searched the Pokemon Center counter for the nurse in residence. Spotting a pink head with curled hair, Darryn picked up the log book and walked it to the service desk.
“Um, excuse me, Nurse Joy?” Darryn placed the book down in front of the medic’s nose and tapped the double entry where the details had been erased. “Do you know what happened here? My friends Jaima and Meiko checked in but someone’s crossed it out…”
The nurse stared at the page then blinked up at Darryn and his cousin. Her lip quivered and heat dappled her cheeks pink. She looked nervously between the Co-Ordinator and Breeder, searching for the words that she thought had been said more than enough already.
“Y-you see, there was… an incident. Please, come to my office and I will explain everything.”
"Really, Meiko, I can find everything I need at the local store. We don't need to go to the outlets." She rolled her eyes with a smile. "I know you want to go."
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs swinging back and forth while she gazed at the chair next to the bed.
"See? Jaima agrees with me." She snorted out an abrupt laugh. "And so does Nightwish. Vehemently." Grinning, she looked over at the boy sitting on the bed opposite her. "You're very quiet today."
Reilly mustered up a hollow smile. "Just listening."
Tuesday seemed to accept this, because she turned back around and continued talking to an empty chair.
It had been like this for days.
Reilly was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed opposite the one where Tuesday was sitting. His hands were in his lap because, frankly, he didn't know what else to do with them. There was a lot going on that he didn't know what to do with.
Jaima and Meiko were gone. Their pokemon were gone. There was a feeling he had that much more than that had been lost. That he had nearly had a chance at something wonderful, something life-changing, but it was gone now. He hadn't even known it well enough to miss it properly.
And then there was the fact that Morgan, too, was gone.
Her decision, at least, had been conscious. After the stint with the Fae, she had called him weak, useless. But after the accident, the explosion, when he wasn't there to... she'd had enough. She had demanded he send her home, and eventually, he had given in. Not without some complaint, not without begging, but he couldn't keep her if she didn't want to be there. He loved her too much to force her.
And, if he was honest with himself, he couldn't stand her battering against his shields. The way she had hammered on his mental shields until they crumbled and whispered how useless he was, how weak, how he had left his friends behind to die - it was all more than he could bear. It was a relief, a terrible, selfish relief, to have her gone. To have his mind free of her poisonous murmurings, whisperIng too-true words into his mind.
They lingered even now, as psychic imprints were wont to do. In his sleep, he heard her whispering in his ear. In his waking moments, the badgering against his mind was an endless torment. What remained of his shields were a tattered mess, floating about his mindscape like so much space debris. He knew he needed to fix them, but he'd neither the time nor the calm to spend on the process. His sleep was being affected by it, and that was affecting his focus.
Not that he was doing much. Sitting around listening to the runt talk to ghosts.
"Did I ever apologize... for trying to get Mercury to take me back to the Fae Kingdom?"
Reilly sighed.
"Yeah, well, I feel bad about it. I wasn't thinking coherently and I really could have gone about it better."
Days of this. Days of listening to Tuesday talk to people who weren't there. Listening to one-sided conversations and wishing that he could make the runt see the truth, or change it.
But he couldn't.
"How long do you think it will take Darryn to catch up with us?"
Reilly's stomach ached and his head was pounding. He'd love to know what Jaima's answer would be, because surely the blonde would know when the other boy would arrive. Unlike Tuesday, however, he couldn't hear what the others were saying.
He looked over at her, one hand curled around his twisted stomach. "When?" he whispered, because he really wanted to know. He needed someone else there. Someone besides the people in the town who wouldn't talk about it, the police who returned to question them again and again, and his sister, who was suffering her own grief at the loss of a one-time boyfriend. And she had always been so soft-hearted. He wanted to protect her from this, but he knew he couldn't handle it alone.
Tuesday glanced over at him, but the cheerful smile that had been present was gone. It was replaced with a nearly blank look, emotions buried too deeply beneath her skin to be read and eyes gazing in his direction but looking through him. It was the most emotion he had seen on her face sine the accident that weren't clearly warped by her own self-crafted illusions. It was frightening, how that emotion manifested itself as a severe lack of emotion.
"Tuesday?"
"Darryn is already here."
Someone knocked on the door.
Reilly looked at it. He really hoped it was Darryn. Even if he didn't like the guy, he needed someone else here. He couldn't do this alone anymore. He just couldn't.
Room 24. Darryn counted the doors as he walked along the corridor, odds on the left and evens on the right, until he approached the room that Joy had indicated Tuesday booked herself into. Twelve, Fourteen, Sixteen… A ball of anticipation, dread and fear gripped Darryns chest as he came closer and closer to his friend as the moment of their reunion drew nearer. How would she respond? Hell, would she even respond at all!? Darryn wasn’t as close to Tuesday as the others had been, probably because her introvert nature was so different to his own extrovert self, and it was no secret that Jaima was the glue holding the group together. What if she didn’t even want him there?
*C’mon, Darryn. That kid needs you.* He scolded himself.
The emotions of two bodies emanating from the room only a couple of doors away were undoubtedly waiting for him – one was pained, afraid and ultimately desperate while the other was… Darryn frowned. At first, he had thought that the initial presence had been Tuesday but if it was then there was a strange presence sharing her room, too. It was like an emotional void – cold, dark and flat with no real boundary that could be skimmed for any more information at all.
“Tuesday…” Darryn whispered to himself, squinting at the door as though he could see through it. Her emotionas were a complete dead space beyond the doorway, something cloaking her true feelings from his Empath abilities like nothing he had ever seen before. Psychics could hide their emotions but it was more like looking at a mirror – everything was reflected back at you – but this was the opposite, almost like Tuesday’s emotive space had created a dark whirlpool, sucking in everything around it.
*Is that Aura?* Darryn wondered, remembering the revelation of Tuesday’s abilities within their circle of friends. She had only ever used to to sense when someone was in danger and even then it wasn’t controlled – what was this barrier that she was somehow holding up? *I know Brone had warned us that http://forums.gtsplus.net/index.php?s=&showtopic=29302&view=findpost&p=806889 but this… I don’t know what this is…*
Darryn reached out to knock the door but his knuckles didn’t even touch wood.
“Come in, Darryn.” Tuesday’s voice was unmistakeable. Darryn froze. The last time he checked, Tuesday wasn’t a Psychic like her brother nor an Empath like himself… Could Aura really be accountable for this?
The door slowly opened, a fuzz of red hair peering around the frame warily. Darryn’s lip curled.
“Move.” He said simply, pushing past Reilly and towards the young girl who sat on the bed waiting for him. Tuesday’s face was utter blank – her pale skin a perfect reflection of her deadened emotions. Something seriously wasn’t right. What if she had lost her mind when Jaima and Meiko died? The trauma of losing a loved one was great, Darryn felt it himself, but finding the bodies? Joy’s words haunted him still. How could this poor girl cope with such a horrible, gut-wrenching experience?
“Tuesday…” Darryn’s offered smile was a weak one. “Tuesday, it’s going to be OK.” He said the words but couldn’t help feeling their empty promise. Who was he to say thigns were going to be OK?
*I’ll make things OK…* Darryn promised himself as he sat on the bed next to the expressionless girl and reached out to hug her. *I can do it again… http://forums.gtsplus.net/index.php?s=&showtopic=34057&view=findpost&p=1338578 forget everything…*
Reilly had stepped to the side of the door quickly to allow the other boy entrance. As Darryn hurried over to sit next to Tuesday, Reilly closed the door quietly and leaned his back against it. He watched in silence as Darryn spoke quietly with the girl, but only briefly. He mostly just stared at her, as though he was trying to look through her. It was a little creepy.
He hands ran over his pockets, where his pockets were filled with the minimized pokeballs were his pokemon were currently contained. He wished he could bring them out, but Phoenix had not reacted well to Tuesday speaking with those who were not there, and her emotionlessness had irritated Indiana. Tuesday's own pokemon had been replaced into their pokeballs when it became clear that their presence was disturbing to her. Reilly wasn't sure why, but he believed it may have been because they reminded her of the truth, and that made it harder to hide in her illusion.
He had been tempted, more than once, to call the lucario out, at least. Whatever the connection the two of them had, Zorro had seemed the most distressing to her. And perhaps it wouldn't be healthy for her, and would have been deeply unkind, but this illusion wasn't healthy, either. It couldn't possibly be.
"No!"
Reilly jumped, head jerking upward. Tuesday was standing on the bed, back pressed against the wall, and knees bent as though she was prepared to run at the slightest inclination. She was glaring at Darryn with a furious expression so different from the lack of emotion that she had recently been displaying. It was a relief, but a troubling one. He didn't know what had set her off, but she was clearly unhappy.
"Don't you... don't... touch my head!" she snarled. She was shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to another, rocking the bed lightly.
Darryn looked startled by her reaction and was holding his hands out in a calm-down gesture. "Tuesday..." he whispered.
"No!" she snapped. "I don't know... how are you... No." She was shaking her head back and forth, fluctuating between anger and confusion and fear. "You don't get to take that away from me."
Right. That was enough.
Reilly stepped forward, putting himself into Darryn's line of sight.
"I don't know what you're doing, but I think you need to leave." He returned to the door and opened it. "Now."
“I’m not going anywhere.” Darryn’s eyes rounded on the brat quickly, anger drawing down his brows. “My best friend just died and his…” he paused for a second as he found the right word, “sister needs my help. Who the hell are you to tell me to leave?”
*Make him leave. Make him scared and he’ll go. Terrify him.* Darryn fought all of the urges that would have made Reilly crumble on the spot and instead settled for hating him silently.
“If I go, what are you going to do? Let Tuesday sit in here and starve to death? Watch her mind breakdown even more than it already has?” He turned back to Tuesday and held out his arms to her. “Someone has to take care of her now an you really think you’re up to it?” Reilly’s mouth moved but no sound came out. “Didn’t think so.” Darryn muttered.
*Oh, and you are?!*
“Tuesday,” Darryn refrained from touching the gril without permission but extended his hands for her all the same, “I would never do something that you didn’t want me to. You can believe that, I promise.” He licked his lips. The young blonde was certainly not coping – emotion leaked from her for a moment but was crammed back into her emotionless space before he could take hold and soothe it – and there was no telling if she was getting worse the longer she had been sitting in this room. “Please, sit.”
Tuesday kept her distance but slowly lowered herself to a crouch on the bed as Darryn backed off. Her stance was still ready for flight at any moment and she watched him warily but at lest she didn’t look like a cornered Liepard anymore.
“Nurse Joy told me what happened,” Darryn went on, running a hand slowly through his hair as the details began to plague him once more. “And I can help, Tuesday – I think you know I can – but only if you want me to.”
*Do the right thing, Darryn – make her forget! If you don’t, it’ll just eat her up until nothing’s left! Then what would you tell Brone? That you couldn’t even save her from herself?!*
Darryn spared a sideways glance for Reilly. The kid clearly didn’t know about Tuesday’s Aura and there was no way he could know about Darryn’s own abilities. Even though the boy was decent enough to stick with Tuesday while she was grieving, there was no telling whether or not he could keep his mouth shut if he ever found out. Darryn turned his eyes back to Tuesday’s wide-staring gaze.
*It had to happen sometime.*
<Tuesday.> Darryn said softly with his mind, watching the girl for a reaction. He didn’t have to wait long. She pushed herself back against the wall, her stare widening further still. <Tuesday, I’m going to talk to you this way – like Brone.> Mentioning her brother didn’t seem to help as her alarm grew further still but at least she did not run. <I’m not like him though,> Darryn went on, searching for the right words to keep her as calm as possible while being as open as he could about the situation – lying to her now could prove catastrophic if she ever found out he had been keeping things from her.
<I am an Empath, Tuesday.> Darryn’s admission with his mind came almost as a sigh. <It was a gift given to me by an old friend by accident and it’s been growing in strength ever since.> Darryn’s body relaxed a little, his brown eyes losing some of the fire that Reilly had ignited in him. <It started with just being able to see emotions as lights around people and Pokemon then I could feel what they were feeling without looking at them. When we were in the Arapet forest… and those people… those people wanted you.>
Darryn gulped. <I learned how to remove the will to fight back against psychic impression… One of the women… She realised I wasn’t normal and she wanted you for your… Aura.> Tears welled in Darryn’s eyes but he glued them firmly in place. <So I chased her into the forest and… held her down… then… then I took her will to fight psychic attacks away from her and,> he broke off for a moment, the admission being retold for the first time since the horrific event, <and I told Lady to wipe out everything from the woman’s memory. We left her there, in the forest, with the mind of a child and no memory of who we are or where we were going.> It was out.
<And since then we’ve been safe, you and me.> Darryn’s first tear fell. <And I kept the promise that I made to Brone that we would keep you safe while your Aura grew stronger. When we all split up, Jaima promised to keep watching out for you, of course he would – you’re like his sister for God’s sake, but now he’s gone and I-> Another tear fell, decorating Darryn’s other cheek with a thin rivulet, <and I’m not going to break my promise to him. Whether you want me to or not, I’ll be looking out for you from now on so you can count on me not to lie to you now – I will never do anything to you that you wouldn’t want me to but… but I can if you need it. I can make you happy just like that – take away all the sadness and all the fear and replace it with whatever you like – but only if you tell me to.>
Tuesday’s tension barely eased throughout the whole thing, only her eyes moving as they searched Darryn for clues that he was being anything less than honest.
“Only if you want me to.” Darryn repeated out loud, sniffing back what promised to be an out-and-out bawling session. “I might not be him but I can look out for you if you let me… and I’m not her but…” Darryn let a slow smile break out across his lips even as more tears fell, “but I’ve got better fashion sense, anyway.” He reached out for her again. “What do you say, Tuesy?”
Reilly's shoulders shook at being brushed off as useless. Again. Was there no one on this world who didn't think him a waste of space?
He stepped away from the door, intent on showing the pretty boy just how very capable he was, when Tuesday spoke.
"You... you what?"
Her voice wasn't loud. In fact, she was nearly whispering. As quiet as it had gotten in the room, however, she may as well have been screaming. Darryn had gone very still, and Reilly thought he might even have been holding his breath.
"How could you..." Tuesday shook her head slowly back and forth, eyes that were focused on Darryn wide and filled with something like heartbreak. Reilly felt something very much like smugness rise up at the expression. She'd never looked at him like that.
"Get out."
Reilly stepped out of the way to allow Darryn easy access to the door.
"Both of you."
"What?" His voice came out like a squawk. "Oh no, I am not leaving just because the pretty boy-"
He ducked wildly as the heavy alarm clock on the bedside table was flung at his face. "I said get out!"
Reilly scurried for the door in a less-than-manly fashion. His fingers played with the pokeballs in his pockets - Tuesday's pokeballs - as he slipped out of the room. As Darryn followed, he turned on his heel and tossed one of the pokeballs back through the doorway. Just before the door slammed in his face.
If the pokeball opened, the sound was drowned out by Tuesday's sobs, which really was a relief, as far as Reilly was concerned. Finally, some emotion. And hopefully she would grieve.
Movement to his left reminded him of his companion and he glanced at the coordinator. "If you were just going to upset her, you needn't have bothered coming back at all."
Darryn sighed as he exited the room, nausea rising in him like uncontrolled damp. The bratty kid, Reilly, also left and after Tuesday had slammed the door shut on them they found themselves confused and alone. Then that brat opened his stupid big mouth. Darryn’s right hand flexed into a claw and before he realised it his hooked fingertips were reaching for the kid’s face.
*Absolute terror. Fill him with absolute terror…*
“What are you doing?!” Reilly stepped back, his face an open display of incredulity and anger. Darryn stopped himself with a jerk and looked down at his hand. Fire ignited his cheeks and he swept the hand back to his side quickly.
“Back off, brat.” Darryn snorted, glaring daggers at the boy. “And stop pretending you’re her friend – you have no idea what she’s been through and probably never will. You’re a spoiled, selfish dick who never had a nice word to say about Jaima and even less for Tuesday. What are you even doing here?!”
Darryn’s stare was pointed and direct. Flaring anger burned bright in his dark eyes and his hands flexed restlessly at his sides. Oh, how he wished he could smack that smug face and decorate it with a bruise or five.
“Look, you called my best friend a cheat when I last saw you. Why’s that? Because you’re so pathetic and worthless that no-one bothers to give you the attention that you think you deserve. That’s why.” Darryn looked the boy up and down with disgust. “Go near Tuesday again and I’ll break your arm.”
Darryn's words rang around in Reilly's head as he stormed through the pokemon center. He'd barely managed to extricate himself from the pretty boy's side before he punched the self-righteous bastard in the face.
His hands were clenched so tightly that his fingers ached, but he didn't loosen them. It was either clench his hands into fists or scream. The energy had to be worked off somehow, especially since beating the other boy to a bloody pulp wasn't an option. Reilly might have been able to take him, but he didn't think Tuesday would ever forgive him if he did.
"Hey."
A hand on his arm brought his angry stride to a sudden halt, the soft skin of his sister's ever-cold fingers a familiar feeling.
"How is she?"
Reilly released a breath of pent-up rage in a hissing exhalation. He turned to Joy, keeping his head down and studying her hand where she had slid it into his.
"Angry," he murmured, squeezing her cold fingers. "Finally."
"Reilly..."
He lifted his head and tossed her a carefree smile. "She threw the alarm clock at my head, so that's a heavy improvement. She'll be back to her old self in no time."
"Don't do that," she murmured, squeezing his hand tight enough to hurt and stepped closer so she wouldn't be overheard. They were standing in the center of the pokemon center, after all.
"Do what?" he asked, grinning at her.
"I know you, Reilly Éamon Coons," she whispered fiercely. "That stupid smile of yours might be able to fool the rest of these idiots, but it can't fool me. Stop pretending you're not hurting!"
He snorted out half a laugh. "Me? Hurting? Pshh! You don't know what you're talking about."
"You're lying again." She poked him hard in the arm.
"Owww..."
"Stop it. I didn't come down here for you to lie to me."
"You shouldn't have bothered coming down. There's no reason for you to be here."
He realized he'd made a mistake when her eyes started filling with tears.
"Oh no, I... Joy..." He grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her to a chair in a secluded corner of the room. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Don't cry."
"I'm just miss him," she whispered, wiping at the tears sliding down her face. "I didn't even know him that well, but he was so kind. And when I'd heard about the accident and that you were here and that poor little girl... I had to come, ReiRei."
Reilly sighed at the old nickname. Joy hadn't used it since they were children, except when she was hurting. He folded his arms around her and pulled her against him. She sniffled and buried herself against his side.
"I can't imagine how she feels," she murmured thickly. "They were so close. You'd seen them together. You would have thought they were related."
"Yeah." The way the runt had tagged along after Jaima, it was much the same way that Joy had tagged along after him as a child. There was a bond there, something strong, which had connected the two of them in a way that would make the loss of him all the worse. It was likely the reason that Tuesday had shut down as she had. He couldn't imagine how he could possibly have the strength to survive if he had lost Joy. Nevermind staying sane.
"I don't know how she's done it, either," he said, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Even shutting down... taking this long to finally react." Waiting, in fact, until Darryn had arrived. And he had to half-wonder if it hadn't been planned that way. If Tuesday hadn't been holding everything in until the one person arrived who would understand her loss. Because as much as Reilly had tried to care for her these past few days, they weren't friends. Not really.
He could understand her not wanting to emotion to someone who was basically a stranger, if not a rival.
And if that was the case, then he couldn't stop the pretty boy from interacting with Tuesday. Of course she would react badly to his presence - she was finally admitting to all of the loss that had occurred. It was painful. He probably shouldn't have interfered like he had.
He wouldn't anymore. At least... not to keep them apart. That didn't mean he intended to just leave her.
"What are you going to do?" he asked quietly, mumbling into her hair.
Joy pulled away slightly, prompting Reilly to sit back. He watched her wipe her face gently and sniffle, settling her hands in her lap. "I guess... finish up the week here." She pulled her legs up and folded them beneath her in a somewhat defensive position. "My transfer was only temporary, but I don't know if I want to go back to the other branch. I may see if I can do a permanent transfer somewhere new..." She glanced up at him, eyes still shimmering with unshed tears. She wiped at them self-consciously. "You're not coming with me. Are you?"
From the tone of her voice, he knew she had already figured out the answer, but he shook his head anyway. "I'm going to travel with Tuesday, at least for a while. They were headed to Port Barley next and their plans have probably stayed the same that way." He tapped a rhythm out of his knee with the fingers of his right hand. "She needs some looking after for a bit. Someone to make sure she doesn't fall apart."
"She has her friend, Darryn."
"He's hurting, too."
"He's a big boy."
"So was I, when Grams died. So were you." He looked up, met her eyes briefly, then looked back down at his fingers. "It's not the same, but it was still a loss. It still hurt." He shrugged one shoulder, glanced up again. "You're mad."
"You're letting yourself be manipulated."
Reilly raised both eyebrows at the ferocity in her tone. "Tuesday is hardly in the emotional position to manipulate anyone."
"She's in the perfect position."
"Are you saying that because you believe it or because you blame her?"
Joy gasped.
Reilly studied her face for a moment. "You do, don't you? She wasn't there when the truck exploded, and you blame her because Jaima sent her away to call for help because it would be safer for her. Don't shake your head like you don't know - you knew him well enough to know that's exactly what he would do, even if Jenny didn't tell you everything."
"Jenny was just trying to give me closure-"
"Jenny's a bitch who still holds a grudge over two people who died three days ago."
Joy started crying again.
Reilly watched her, but he didn't apologize this time. Her sobs were loud, and the tears were messy, but he let her cry. She needed to get it out as much as Tuesday did.
After a minute, she raised her tear-slopped face to snarl at him. "Yes! Okay? I blame her! I blame her, because she's fine and safe and unhurt and he's dead!" The tears were speeding down her face, turning her face into a wet, blotchy mess. Her nose had started to run, but Joy didn't seem to notice or care. "She wasn't there, and now he's gone!" Her sob turned into an angry shriek. "And you weren't there, either! You could have done something and you - weren't - there!"
She swung a fist at him wildly, and he caught it. He clutched it to his chest and she soon followed after, collapsing on top of him and bawling into his shoulder. Part of him wanted to storm away, angry and hurt, hole himself up in his room and let his own emotions run rampant. Instead, he curled his arms around her and held her close as she cried, buried his face in her hair and wished he could change it all to something better. Wished he had the power to fix it all.
"I know," he murmured into her hair, and resolutely refused to cry.
Lyla looked up quickly from her spot in the waiting area, polishing the shell of her newly acquired teammate – Tama the Togepi. He giggled with delight as the cloth squeaked back and forth along his tummy while the gril holding him waited irritably for her cousin to come down from the dormitories. She didn’t have to wait long. A flame-haired boy with a red face stomped down from upstairs to be taken aside by Nurse Joy where they talked together in heated, yet hushed, tones. He was rapidly followed by an equally red-faced Co-Ordinator. Lyla started to stand.
<I’m going out.> Darryn’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he strode across the foyer. <Call me if Tuesday comes out of her room.>
Lyla plonked back down on the sofa with a pout. Her cousin was obviously hurting and yet… he wasn’t hurting… Shouldn’t he be crying? Shouldn’t he be demanding for someone to explain why good people like Jaima and Meiko had to die?! Lyla resumed her polishing. Whatever Darryn was up to, he still owed her an apology… but she’d look out for Tuesday while he was away, all the same.
He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved.
It left a wound behind that burned cold and ached until, like frostbite, it numbed and fell away. It no longer festered, but nor did it ever fully heal.
Odysseus had such a wound. The loss of his wife had long since broken away and scarred closed, but the loss of his daughter ached still. It would until he knew what had become of her, and only then would he be able to begin the process of healing.
The wounds that scoured Tuesday's heart would not heal easily. They would hurt for a while, and the loss, which had been sudden, would not allow her to acclimate easily. But it would come in time. Odysseus knew that. He knew she would heal in time. He wished he could easily convey this knowledge to her, that he could offer her the comfort that she so desperately needed. But the lass would not accept his comfort. She had pushed them all away as each of them had tried to offer comfort, or in some cases, ask for it.
This, though, was a start.
Odysseus was crouched against the wall in the corner, forepaws dangling over his knees as he watched the lass cry an ocean into the blankets that covered the bed. They had all been concerned by her lack of emotion, but Zorro most of all had been distraught. Odysseus knew it hadn't merely been because of her lack of emotion, but also the lack of communication, and the fact that he was hurting. Zorro, too, had lost someone he had considered a brother.
Odysseus sighed. This would not be an easy journey.
"Ody," Tuesday whispered, and Odysseus slipped up on the bed to offer what comfort he could.
But it was a necessary one.
Darryn watched through the window to the treatment room as the Chansey in residence continued her resolute watch over the Vulpix laid on the table. Periodically, her palms would glow with a soft golden light while held out over the fox but there wasn’t any change, at least not as far as Darryn could see. Lady’s chest rose and fell with the rhythm of sleep but nothing, not even drugs, could wake her. He suspected her mind was elsewhere, maybe on the Plane of Vul where she had once taken him, but there was no way to know – not without a Psychic-type to check it out for him.
“How is she?” Lyla’s voice was soft, her presence seeming to appear at Darryn’s side. He spared her a brief glance. How long had she stood there? Heck, how long had he stood there?
“No change, I guess.” Darryn sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about before.” He closed his eyes, silent tears forming behind them.
“I know.” Lyla’s hand found Darryn’s at his side and her fingers expertly interlocked with his. “Forget about it – I have.”
“Thanks, Ly.” Darryn sniffed, his eyes opening and releasing the flood that they had been holding back. His cousin hugged him awkwardly from the side. “I really do just want to help her, y’know?”
“And you will.” Lyla whispered to him tenderly. “But she needs to help herself first. And later, when she lets you in, you’ll help her just by being there.”
“How’d you get so smart?”
“It’s a gift.” Lyla shrugged with a smile, taking Darryn by the hand once more and guiding him away from the treatment room. “C’mon, let’s go get something to drink.” They had taken only a few steps before Darryn stopped at another window.
“Who’s that Pokemon?” He wondered outloud as he peered into the ward where small beds were arranged in a line, Pokemon recovering from their treatments in peace. A purple-grey furry lump lay on its back, bloodshot eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. Its ears were rolled over on top of its head but the hair on its cheeks were clearly singed black.
“Hmm?” Lyla looked over his shoulder. “Oh, I asked Joy earlier about that one. It’s called Espurr – a Pokemon from the Kalos region. Turns out it was in the same accident as…” her voice broke for a second as she shot a careful glance at her cousin, “it was in the same accident… Belonged to one of the victims from one of the cars but there’s no direct relative to forward her onto… Joy said tame Pokemon in situations like these are rehomed rather than sent back to the wild and-“
“I’ll take her.” Darryn said quickly. His eyes had dried up while he stared through the window and now all they saw was a last reminder of his friends’ bravery. Her emotions were absolutely shot and her Emotaglow throbbed heavily with despair. “I’ll take her.”
Tuesday washed her face clean of tears with the damp cloth. She sniffled a little and smeared her hand across the mirror, paving a path through the steamed glass that she could see her own reflection in. Her dripping hair hung limply, leaking water down her bare back and soaking the edge of the towel where it was wrapped around her torso. Her eyes were red-rimmed despite the hot shower, and while her cheeks were rosy, her face was pale. She looked at her own bloodshot eyes.
She hadn't cried that much in... ever.
A sound like a too-soft knock came at the door. "You okay, Tue-chan?"
Tuesday sighed and began drying her hair with another towel.
Odysseus was in the bedroom still, waiting patiently. Tuesday had dug his pokeball out from where it had rolled beneath the bed when Reilly had thrown it into the room. She needed to remember to thank him later for that. She had been mad, but Odysseus' company had been welcome, once it had all really hit her. She wasn't sure she would have been able to stand being alone.
Tuesday pulled on her clothes quickly. Someone, probably a nurse, had laundered her clothing, which was good, because she only had two outfits and one was a set of pajamas. She still hadn't gotten around to replacing all of the items she had lost after the incident with the Fae-that-were-not.
She ran a brush over her hair quickly, the curls already springing up as they dried, framing her face and rolling down her back. She didn't bother pulling her hair up. She just tossed her towels on the bathroom floor and headed back into her room to tug on her sneakers.
Odysseus was leaning against the wall, and he watched as she came in. The floatzel was a quiet, guarding presence, and she was glad to have him. He had lain with her the entire day, cuddled up against her as she cried. Tuesday didn't know how long she had slept or, really, what time it was, since she had thrown the clock at Reilly's head.
She winced. He hadn't deserved that.
Pulling her sweatshirt over her head, Tuesday could feel Odysseus at her back as the floatzel moved to keep pace with her when she grabbed the door handle. She'd spent long enough in the bedroom. She pulled open the door and stepped outside.
Jaima stepped out of his room across the hall at the same time and stopped, startled, at the same time she did. He grinned as he shut the door behind him.
"Finally decided to wake up?"
Tuesday didn't say anything, merely stood in the open doorway and stared at him.
"So who won the argument between you and Meiko? Are we going to the outlets?"
Tuesday lowered her eyes from Jaima's face and didn't say anything. Quietly, she pulled the door closed behind her and ran her fingers lightly over Odysseus' smooth scalp. When she turned around to continue down the hallway, she was alone but for the floatzel.
The pokemon center was quiet, and when Tuesday looked into the lobby, she could see that their breakfast buffet was closed. Whatever time it was, morning had passed. She glanced around briefly and then slipped through the doors and outside, Odysseus following close behind.
The air was warmer than she had expected, and the sun was bright. She blinked against the sharp rays and kept her head down as she headed out around the pokemon center, to the space at the back where few windows were open to. She shuffled down a small hill until the ground evened out, grass trimmed short.
Jaima stood waiting for her. He flashed her a smile.
"Did you want to spar a little this morning, Tuesy?"
There was a shadow behind Jaima that caught her attention and made her swallow. Shadow cocked his head at her as he stepped out beside his trainer, expression that same fierceness, but eyes kind.
Tuesday turned her back on both of them. She felt tears prick in her eyes as she fell into her kattas, the movements that Jaima had taught her. Every motion was well-known by now, the entire stream of movements so sharp in her mind she didn't need to think about it. Were things different, Jaima might have taught her something new soon, but that wouldn't happen anymore.
She knew they were gone. She'd known they were gone since the accident occurred. It had hurt so much, though, so, so much, that she hadn't been able to bring herself to let go. She'd clung to them, begging for them to come back, begging for something to make it all right. She'd been hoping for a miracle - something to fix what had all gone so very wrong.
No miracle had come, and her friends hadn't returned. Not really. Even as she'd held conversations with them in her room, Tuesday had known that Jaima and Meiko weren't really there. A part of her had known. It was so easy to pretend, though. It hurt a little less if she just ignored the way things really were and went on like they hadn't changed.
Reilly had been content to let her be.
No. No, not content. He simply hadn't known what to do. The boy had loyally remained with her, only leaving for the brief moments it required to use the restroom and shower. He'd taken meals in the room with her, fallen asleep on the opposite bed. He'd been there when she woke shrieking from nightmares, a moment before she fell back into that emotionless world where everything was fine, as long as she was safe in her mind.
She'd known it couldn't last. She'd known that Darryn was coming. She still wasn't sure how she knew that he had arrived when he had, but somehow she'd known. Even before he tried to... fix her head, the illusion had begun to fade. Jaima and Meiko had disappeared back into the realm of dreams where they had come from, and Tuesday was left bereft their comforting presence, bereft her illusions.
Predictably, she hadn't reacted well.
"Smooth motions, Tuesy. You'll hurt your knees doing that."
Tuesday's ferocious kicking settled. Her knee did ache a bit where her joints had been pushed against their limit. She glanced behind her.
Shadow and Jaima weren't there. She knew they wouldn't be. The illusions caught her by surprise sometimes, but she could usually tell when they faded out. Sometimes she saw them, but sometimes she only heard their voices. Almost like she was remembering what they would have said in this instance or that.
It was comforting in a way, but it also hurt. Every time she heard their voices or saw them, she remembered they weren't really there, and the pain of their loss hit her again. Her stomach was in a perpetual state of turmoil. She didn't know what to do.
Part of her was tempted to take Darryn up on her offer, but she thought she would regret it, if she did. She didn't want to lose Jaima or Meiko any more than she already had, and letting Darryn make her forget... it would be like tossing them away. Like saying that they didn't matter.
And they did. They mattered so much.
That was why it hurt so bad, now that they were gone.
Tuesday wiped her face with the too-long sleeve of her sweatshirt. She sniffled against the fabric, her nose dripping.
"It'll be all right, Tuesy. You'll see."
Tuesday sighed and didn't look up at Jaima's face. It would just remind her that she couldn't hug him, and she didn't think she could take the rejection, even from a ghost.
She turned around and headed back inside. She didn't know what she was going to do, but there was no comfort to be had in the presence of the dead. She needed the living, and those who understood.
She would look for Darryn. He was hurting, too. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did.
And maybe he'd even give her a hug, if she asked. Maybe he could use one, too.
“Are you sure about this?” Darryn asked Lyla as she tapped away on the PC screen. He hovered over her shoulder with a frown on his face, doubt an obvious decoration on his brow. His cousin waved a hand irritably in his direction.
“It’s, like, what I want to do.” Lyla confirmed, pulling out the next Pokeball and putting it into the transporter. “The more I think about it, the more I want to be a Fairy-type Trainer! I don’t know what it is – they’re just so… so… amazing! I used to hate battling but somehow they make me like it… There’s no other way to say it! Fairy-types somehow make me want to get better at battling and Breeding is too much of a full-time thing to keep going while I take on this new challenge.”
“And the Breeding Center is OK with this?” Darryn probed a little further. Lyla pouted.
“Why are you being such a downer?”
“I’m not!” Darryn held up his hands, “I just want you to be absolutely sure that this is the right move for you – I think it’s great that you’ve found something that you love, honestly!”
“Mmm,” Lyla’s grunt suggested that she wasn’t totally convinced but she continued depositing her Pokemon, anyway. “The Center owners are OK with it. I mean, they still want me to go get Ichigo to evolve when we find a Moon Stone but after that my contract with them will be over. Then… well, then I guess I’m a proper Trainer and all!”
Darryn really didn’t know what to say. Lyla had flipped 180 in the past week or so and the only thing that had happened was…
*She nearly died?*
“Well, then that’s great.” Darryn nodded as Kaki, Momo, Anzu and Ichigo all got put back in storage at the lab in Pallet Town. After he had made changes with his own active party of Pokemon, Darryn had offered up some space that Professor Oak had set aside for the Co-Ordinator’s storage system - it was far bigger than he actually needed so it didn’t make sense for Lyla to set up another account of her own once her collection in care at the Mauville breeding center was made homeless with her resignation. “Just please don’t say anything like ‘life’s too short’, ‘kay?”
“Mmm.” Lyla’s response this time was weaker and with a face of worry.
“We’ll be OK, Ly.” Darryn reassured her with a hand to her shoulder. “And so will Tuesday. It’ll take a little time but we really will be OK.”
“But,” Lyla turned her face to stare into his with tears brimming in her eyes, “but what if we’re not? I’m not trying to be negative or anything but things aren’t the same for you, Darryn. Your best friend, the leader of your group, is gone. Wasn’t he the one who made sure everyone was alright when bad thigns happened? Didn’t he save you all from horrible situations? What if… what if…”
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Ly.” Darryn gripped her other shoulder, too. “What happened in the forest and and what happened at the Grand Invitational were-“
“Horrible.” Lyla filled in for him quickly. “It was horrible, Darryn! I nearly died at the Invitational, too – a few more seconds and who knows what would have happened?”
Darryn inwardly cringed for his cousin. A ghostly grass-type Pokemon had stuffed her every airways with its hairlike vines, feeding on her suffering as life slowly was drained from her. Although he wanted Lyla to move on from the experience there wasn’t any way to get over such trauma without him… intervening.
“Ly, I know its extreme but sometimes that’s what being a Trainer is like…” Darryn let his eyes cast downwards weakly. “If you are serious about becoming a Fairy-type trainer then you should be prepared for difficult times.” He eyes came up again. “But I’m here for you. Just like Jaima was there for me – we’ll look out for each other as best we can and I promise I won’t let thing like that happen to you ever again.”
There was a long silence-filled moment while the cousins just stared at each other in their awkward embrace. It was eventually broken by Lyla who stood up, brandishing two Pokeballs.
“OK,” she said with a slow smile, “and I’ll do the same for you, now that I have some badass Fairies on my team!”
Odysseus stayed close behind Tuesday as she made her way back into the pokemon center, eyes scanning the area for her friend. Odysseus glanced around himself, looking for the boy, Darryn and his friend, as well as the other boy, Reilly. The latter had made himself scarce of late, however, ever since Darryn had returned, and Odysseus would admit to being concerned about what would happen when the lass and her companions left to head back on the road. It was certainly moving toward that point, and despite the grief that she still suffered, he knew they wouldn't be remaining here for long. It didn't seem the way of these humans to remain in one place for long, and how strange. If Elizabeth hadn't been lost and he caught, they would have made their home somewhere stationary. They would have lived a good life in a place they could call home.
Did these humans move around so much because they didn't feel anywhere was home? If that was the case, he pitied them for not being able to find what came so very natural to pokemon.
A flash of red to his left caught Odysseus' attention and he turned to see Reilly standing off to the side of the room, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. Odysseus recognized the post as one he himself used quiet frequently. Head tucked down, but eyes taking in everything.
Or, in the boy's case, not everything. Mostly just Tuesday.
All of them felt somewhat indebted to the boy for what he had done for the lass. They were all hurting from the loss of Jaima, Meiko, and their pokemon, but the girl had been hit especially hard. Odysseus suspected it was because she was so young, and most likely unaccustomed to a loss of such magnitude. Some of his fellow pokemon, too, were young and similarly unused to such loss, but pokemon, at least, knew that the world was hard. They were raised with the knowledge that loss was inevitable, sometimes frequent and often (if you were lucky) swift. Humans did not often seem to be aware of this.
Odysseus knew that some of the others were taking the losses hard, though. Zorro and Tempest, especially, were struck by the loss of their close friends. Tempest, for all of her fire and fury, had been near-distraught by the death of Mercury, who had been a very close friend, and apparently, Tempest did not have very many friends, much less anyone close.
Zorro, unsurprisingly, was struck by the loss of Mercury, who he had adored (though not as much as Ashleigh, whose cries Odysseus could still hear when the silence grew too loud). The newly-evolved lucario had been near-inconsolable in the hours after their deaths, however, and Odysseus knew it was for the pokemon he called his older brother that he lamented.
Odysseus did not know whether to be relieved or distraught by how easily the lucario pushed his own grief aside to lend his mind to helping the lass overcome hers. Not that she had been willing to accept help from anyone, or, indeed, accept the fact that her friends were gone. The illusions she had allowed herself to conjure up had been concerning, and Tempest especially had been further distressed by their existence. Secretly, he suspected it was because she wished she were able to fall into the belief that Mercury was still alive.
He, too, missed their friends, but Odysseus had lost many in times before, as had some of the others. Ashleigh, in the years he had lived in a pack on the streets, had seen kin fall and driven off or leave. Zorro had lost nearly his whole family. Odysseus did not know all of their stories, but it was clear who was more familiar with loss than others, not that it hurt less for them. It never hurt less.
As he watched, Reilly pulled a handful of pokeballs out of his pockets and quietly clicked them open, letting out the group of pokemon that were the lass' current party. Zorro landed easily on his feet, head tucked down slightly, holding the other pokemon back when they went to move toward Tuesday. Odysseus, himself, stepped between their group and the lass, knowing that their overcrowding her might throw her right back into an illusion, and she had only just come out of them - was still suffering them mildly.
He needn't have bothered. Zorro kept the others well in hand. Even Dante, who seemed surprisingly calm considering his previous fire.
With the others well taken care of, he returned his attention to the lass, who had wandered off while he was distracted. He trotted to catch up with her when he saw that she had sidled quietly up behind Darryn and his friend. With her shoulders hunched up and her head tucked down, the lass looked liked she was trying to escape a physical blow, though it was the grief that still clung tightly to her - though not as tightly as it had.
She was healing. It would take time, but she would make it. He knew she was strong enough.
He was certain that leaving this place behind would be a good start for it, and so he hoped they would make their way out soon. Still...
Odysseus glanced back, but the redheaded boy was gone.
He worried about what would happen to him. Odysseus, at least, still owed him a heavy debt for all the care he showed the lass.
With a huff of breath through his nostrils, Odysseus leaned easily against the wall and watched Tuesday flutter her hands nervously together, shifting from foot to foot. It took a moment for her to drag up the nerve to even say anything, but finally she did muster a "hey" in the direction of her friend.
Well. It was a start.
“Isnt there another way around?” Lyla asked worriedly, watching as Darryn tapped away on his cell phone, zooming in and out on a map of the north west of Furoh. They had been searching for some time but it really didn’t look like there was any direct route to Port Barley without passing the spot where Jaima and Meiko had…
“Look, if we take either of these other roads we’d end up adding a load of hours or even another day onto the trip…” Darryn chewed his bottom lip. “And you said it yourself – she need to handle things and maybe this is the best way to-“
“Hey.”
The voice was meek and barely audible but it was definitely there. Darryn’s reflexes at hiding the screen on his phone were second to none but there was no way for him to know how long Silence had been there. That had been the nickname her brother had given her, right? Her biological brother, Brone… Darryn wondered where the blind guy was right then and whether or not he knew of his sister’s suffering but concluded that he didn’t – there was no way a nice guy like that would just leave Tuesday to fester in grief without lending her some support.
“Hey!” Lyla crooned, flicking a bang of blonde hair over her shoulder playfully. “It’s nice to see you again, Tuesday!”
“Mmm.” Tuesday’s response was non-committal and distant, her eyes avoiding those of her Co-Ordinator friend and his cousin. Was she still mad?
*A little, but she’s certainly calmed down a lot.* Darryn told himself as he very quickly scanned her Emotaglow.
“Hey, Tuesday.” Darryn said softly, standing and walking to stand right in front of her. “C’mere.” He said simply, holding out his arms to the girl who wouldn’t meet his gaze. She stared at his hands for a moment, judging them carefully, before accepting that they held no danger and stepping into them. Her little wrists snaked around his back and the two embraced for what felt like an hour, their breath rising and falling in sync as the Co-Ordinator stroked the Researcher’s head fondly. “It’ll be OK, Tuesday.” He looked up to find Lyla watching him curiously. His cousin’s brow creased slightly and she gave him a reassuring nod to confirm that she was also going to look after the kid as she came to terms with what had happened.
“It’ll be OK.”
She couldn't explain it.
There was a sensation, somewhere between her chest and her head, a tingling ache that lessened the closer she got to where Jaima and Meiko had died. There was a hollow feeling in her stomach that seemed to deepen, too, the closer she got, but that was not as strong as the other and thus easier to ignore.
Darryn had offerred, more than once, for them to slip off the road and travel through the grass so as to avoid the area, but no. She needed to see it. She didn't know why and she couldn't explain it, but she had to go there.
There weren't far off now. She remembered this section of the road. She and Reilly had come back this when when they ran back to town to get help. She remembered stumbling on the road when the explosion occurred, shaking everything around them and knocking her to the ground.
She glanced down at her hands. The bleeding scrapes on her palms had healed quickly, but she could still remember the burn of torn skin. Her knees ached in memory of landing hard on them during the explosion, but the ache in her chest hurt the worst of them all. How was she supposed to deal with this? How did you just keep going on like nothing had happened when you had lost two of the people who she had spent so much of her time with and who had taught her so much? Not to mention their pokemon, whom she had grown incredibly close to, like Shadow, who had done so much for her...
She didn't know what she was supposed to do.
"We're here," Darryn murmured.
Tuesday looked up, her feet slowing to a stop. She felt her breath sigh out through her lips and she had to blink to clear her vision. She felt tears slide down her cheeks.
Yes. She remembered this place, but it looked different now.
There was a great gouge in the asphalt where the oil tanker had tipped over and slid some feet, crashing into other cars. That had been the reason that they were out there in the first place. The four of them had heard the crash and come out to see what had happened, and Jaima and Meiko had stayed to help while Tuesday and Reilly ran back for more help.
And then the explosion.
The road was blackened in a circle where the explosion had occurred, the edges jagged and burnt into a ground. Distantly, she wondered if the wound could ever be removed from the road, or if it would remain, a permanent reminder of all that had been lost.
The medical and clean-up crews had done a fair job. Scraps of metal lay about in some areas, occasionally melted fast to the asphalt, but for the most part, there was little reminder that actual people had been here.
Tuesday tried to swallow the ache that threatened to swallow her.
Something caught her eye and she turned her head at a flash of color. She expected, perhaps, half of a pokeball sphere or a scrap of burnt clothing, but no. There was a flower growing in the center of the road.
It was the strangest flower that she had ever seen. Beautiful, it glimmered and shone, as though reflected the light that hit it. As though the flower were made of glass.
Tuesday found herself stepping closer and vaguely she recognized that Darryn was asking her something, but whatever he said didn't register. The flower... it was beautiful, compellingly so. In fact, she could feel it, she was sure. The very air thrummed with the force of its existence - life, blossomed and full and crying out "I am here!"
A flash of red to her right and Zorro appeared. Tuesday nearly turned her head, forgetting for a moment that he was not a riolu any longer, but a lucario. For the briefest of moments, she had thought he was Shadow and her heart ached for her friend.
The flower thrummed, a heartbeat that sang to her. Tuesday swallowed, crouching down before the flower. This close, she could see it was indeed crystalline, but it rose up from the ground as though it had sprouted. No hands made this. No tool touched this. There was some other force at work here.
"I am here!"
The voice was like that of a child - young, innocent, calling for help.
"I am here!"
Tuesday leaned closer until her lips were almost touching the gleaming petals, her breath misting against the crystal. There was something about it that seemed so... familiar. It was the strangest thing.
"Please," the flower whispered. "I am here."
Tuesday reached out, and in a motion so swift it seemed too easy, plucked the flower.
It was delicate in her fingers, soft. The stem felt alive beneath her hand - dotted with fibers like a true flower stem, yet it almost felt like water flowing between her fingertips. Smiling despite herself, she brought the flower to her nose as she turned.
She inhaled ash and fire, heat barrelling down her throat. Tuesday gasped, gave a wracking cough, and yanked the flower away. She tried to throw it, but it would not leave her fingertips, and desperate, she sought out her friends.
They were gone.
The road lay beneath her, clean and undamaged. Cars moved by, the occasional horn blaring. Tuesday felt her breath coming sharply into her lungs as she gasped for air. The smell of ash had vanished, the heat gone. The road was unmarred - no marks of an explosion, no longer burdened by a great black scar.
She wondered... had she dreamed it all? A terrible nightmare? A horrible vision, even. Had it never happened at all and she would return to find Jaima and Meiko fine, wondering where she had been, what had taken her so long. They would still be waiting on Darryn to arrive, eager to tell him of all that had occurred while he had been away, eager to hear of his own exploits. Zorro would be newly evolved and the thrill of that evolution would not be haunted by the memory of a great loss. They would all eat breakfast together, laughing, and Meiko would help her to buy some new clothes. Shadow would stand at the side, watching, a casual smirk on his face, and Mercury would float about, alternating between laughing and arguing with Nightwish. She and Reilly would get into a spat and Meiko would grin and make an amused remark about weddings and dating and allude to things Tuesday was not old enough to hear, and blush when she met Jaima's eyes.
Tuesday laughed, a bright, happy sound that filled her heart with relief and love and peace. She turned, heading back to the pokemon center.
The oil tanker missed her by an inch, slammed straight into the side of a small car, and flipped onto its side.
Tuesday felt her heart drop down into her stomach at the smell of gas. She saw Jaima and Meiko race into view, and she realized that she was about to watch them die.
“Tuesday?” Darryn watched curiously as Tuesday bent to examine something in the road. He felt odd returning to the site of the incident, almost as though details had eluded him before while the shock had prevented him from absorbing every minor aspect of the explosion’s impact. New smells and sensations presented themselves to Darryn as he relived his previous visit, feeling once more the gutting loss of his best friends. “Tuesday, what is that?” He repeated, a Lucario appeared without warning from her Pokeball. Its fur was scorched, blackened and in some places completely burned out to reveal weeping sores that flames had scored into his flesh.
*So, Zorro evolved, huh?* Darryn watched the warrior’s marred back as he gathered closer to Tuesday to examine something that she plucked from the ground. Something that, as Tuesday tightened her grip on it, began to flood with emotion.
“TUESDAY!” Darryn yelled, jumping forward all too slowly to reach the girl as she collapsed. Luckily, Zorro caught her shoulders before she could reach the broken asphalt but her body was limp even before he could lay hands on her. The Lucario bristled, his playful nature seemingly eliminated by his evolution, cradling Tuesday around the shoulders. Darryn hovered over the pair, Lady still curled in his arms, panic rising in his throat.
*I’m meant to be looking out for her!* He berated himself angrily.
“Darryn, move!” Lyla fussed, bustling past him to crouch swiftly next to the girl. “Still breathing.” Her first comment was muttered as her blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She reached out a hand to stroke the blonde hair away from the girl’s face and feel her forehead. “No temperature.” Lyla confirmed out loud, searching the younger trainer swiftly for a reason for her fainting.
All eyes fell upon the crystalline flower within Tuesday’s hand. It had blossomed since it had been picked, large petals unfurling into sharp spliters of glass that glittered beautifully in a thousand colours. Lyla frowned and reached out.
“Nah!” The Breeder screamed, causing her cousin to give a start, and jumped back from the girl to flick her hand irritably.
“Ly?”
“It’s like static…” Lyla murmured, flicking her hand back and forth. “But it didn’t really hurt.”
“Well, that’s fine but it’s doing something.” Darryn crouched alongside Tuesday and Zorro, still cradling Lady softly in his arms, to examine the girl more closely. Her eyes fretted back and forth wildly under her eyelids. “She’s dreaming or hallucinating… Zorro?”
“Mmnn…” The Lucario grunted the affirmative.
“Whatever it is, I don’t like it.” Darryn complained, standing back up and opening himself to Emotion. “Tuesday’s feelings are masked – she’s either blocking me out or that flower is doing it.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, something Psychic is at play here.” Darryn sighed. “Or something similar, anyway. Without Lady or Mer-“ he broke off, chewing the inside of his cheeks with irritation. “Without a Psychic to confirm it, there’s no way to know.”
“Can’t you, like, y’know?” Lyla made a swooshing motion with her hands. “Shazam?”
“It doesn’t work that way.” Darryn grumbled. “Maybe if we contacted Brone, we could-“
“Step away from the girl.”
Darryn and Lyla both span quickly, their attention drawn to the commanding tone of an older male who was no stranger to Darryn or Tuesday. Tall and broad, his face was angular and darkened with long exposure to the sun. A wide nose separated narrow, black eyes that never seemed to stop moving, almost as though he reanalysed what was before his eyes every second he breathed. A twist to his lips could only be described as an arrogant smile and the way he stood, arms behind his back, stank of over confidence and pride. A long trench coat hid most of any other detail although Darryn knew a particularly shiny Natu probably hid somewhere close to his body, ready to Teleport at a moment’s notice.
Anger flooded Darryn in an instant, his grip on Lady tightening slightly as pressure grew between his teeth and made his jaw crack audibly. He stepped forward, blocking the Collector’s view of Tuesday.
“You step away.” Darryn’s voice cracked with rage and frustration. “Before I make you.”
<Lyla.> Darryn’s voice rang in Lyla’s head like an alarm bell. <This guy is dangerous. Seriously dangerous and he’s obsessed with Tuesday – he knows about Tuesday.>
<B-but what about you?!>
<Not me. Not yet.> Darryn admitted between their minds.
“Tough talk, kid.” The Collector’s smirk stung like needles in Darryn’s eyes. “Especially when that braided brat isn’t here to get in the way. The ginger bitch, too.”
“Say that again and I’ll kill you.” Darryn’s unblinking eyes throbbed with murderous intent. “Step. Away.” He repeated venomously.
<Darryn, I’m scared…>
<Ly… Take Tuesday and run.>
<No!> Lyla’s thought-speech was intent. <I… I accepted… being a Trainer meant things like this, didn’t I? I can battle, too!>
<No, Lyla! This isn’t a game!>
<I’m not a kid, Daz!>
Lyla launched herself past Darryn, spinning free a Pokeball towards the Collector before her cousin could raise a hand to stop her.
“Go, SUIKA!” The once-breeder’s cry announced her decision to play the heroine and very quickly combat began at the site of the incident that had broken Team Rogue.
He didn't think it was fair that he had to hide.
Reilly trudged through the grass, mud sucking at his boots as he lifted his legs high to get over the tall weeds.
The runt had left with the pretty-boy and his girlfriend without a word to him, not that he had expected to be given any polite farewell from the great coordinator that was Darryn... whatever his name was. He had thought, though, that Tuesday might have bothered to tell him they were leaving.
Then again, maybe Darryn kept her from saying anything. It certainly wouldn't have surprised Reilly. Clearly he wasn't on the coordinator's list of favorite people. He didn't expect... payment or anything for helping Tuesday - that wasn't why he did it. He didn't think that he would have been practically attacked for it, though.
Part of him wondered why he was bothering to follow them.
The road was straight at this point, and why they were headed in this direction at all blew Reilly's mind, but he couldn't follow them on the road without risking one of them turning around and spotting him some distance behind. He was always dressed for a potential cross-country trek through whatever the weather threw at him, however, so taking to the grass hadn't been much of a chore.
Still wasn't incredibly fun, though, especially since he didn't see why he should have to hide.
There was a sound far ahead of him, no doubt coming from the group he was following, and Reilly tried to look to see what was happening. Walking down below the road, he struggled to climb up the muddy hill to the asphalt, but got his foot caught in the weeds and tumbled over backwards, landing on his back in a giant, sloshing mud puddle.
It was the only reason he caught sight of the creature following him.
"Poke-balls," Reilly yelled, rolling out of the way just in time to avoid a Powder Snow attack from the little pink and yellow pokemon. Tiny and way too freaking adorable to be a man's pokemon, the thing was clearly not without strength. It looked like it had blonde hair on top of a pink and pale body, pink lips puckered in a doughnut-shape.
Reilly struggled to his feet, muddy water dripping down his back and soaking through his jeans.
"Not very nice to go attacking people while they're down," he admonished, hands reaching for his pokeballs.
His pockets were empty.
Panicking, Reilly looked around him, releasing a relieved sigh when he saw three five pokeballs floating in the mud puddle he had briefly landed in. He shot forward to grab one, dodging away when the pokemon shot foward, little stubby hand smacking forward in a pound attack.
Reilly tossed the pokeball, hoping for Indiana or Phoenix. Some fire would be great right now.
The pokeball hit the ground and snapped open.
And sat there.
He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. A vacant pokeball. Of course. Could he get a break?
"Smoo!" the pokemon yelled, unleashing another powder snow attack. Reilly lunged forward, out of the way, and grabbed two pokeballs. He tossed them both at the smoochum and landed face-first in a puddle of mud.
“Lyla, stop!” Darryn’s cries went unheard as the little Marill dashed towards the towering Feraligatr. Lyla, seemingly fired up by the situation had managed to get herself squarely infront of Darryn and had planted her feet firmly.
“Suika, use Play Rough!” Lyla’s cry was strong, if shrill, and her conviction carried directly through to her pintsized powerhouse who began to take on a powder-pink aura around his hands and feet.
“Aqua Tail.”
Suika threw himself from the ground, the pink glow around his limbs trailing rose-hued sparks through the air as he aimed the Fairy punches but his speed was no match for the gargantuan crocodile. Blue scales flash up and around in a neat arc, a hit to score a homerun and an early defeat.
“Switch to Defence Curl!” Lyla’s shriek was well-timed and, oddly enough, expertly executed as the round mouse tucked into a tight ball just before he was struck. High and far, Suika travelled through the air but managed not to come undone before he bounced to the ground. “Strike back with Rollout, now!”
Powered up from the Defence Curl, Lyla’s Marill took off like a shot back towards the Feraligatr.
*What?! Lyla’s timing is spot-on!?* Darryn stepped sideways, granting himself a better look at his counsin’s determined face. *Something changed in Petropolis...* He looked back to Tuesday, still cradled in Zorro’s charred arms. *But we can’t take any more chances. If he finds out what Tuesday is...*
“Suika, NO!” Lyla wailed, snapping Darryn’s attention straight back to the fore. The Collector’s fearsome crocodilian had hold of the tiny Marill by the tail, lowering him slowly towards a wide open maw rimed with razors for teeth. Darryn snatched for a Pokeball and shoved Lyla aside.
“Hart!”
With an explosion of light, Darryn’s sparkling Sawsbuck sprang from the Friend Ball into a flat-out gallop straight for the crocodile. “Horn Leech!” With head lowered and hooves throwing up dirt, the powerful cervine Pokemon slammed straight into the Feraligatr’s exposed stomach. A guttural roar erupted from the many-toothed beast as the Feraligatr was toppled, momentarily losing its grip on Suika’s bubble-like tail. With a squeak of alarm, Suika hit the dirt hard where he fell.
“Quick, call him back!” Darryn yelled at Lyla. The was a very brief pause as his cousin considered this before:
“Suika, return!”
“Hart, Jump Kick!” Darryn swiftly commanded again, his Sawsbuck thundering his hooves down onto the fallen form of the Feraligatr. The scaled beast let out another hissing scream, thrashing widely on the ground. The thing struggled to flip itself off its own back, claw and tail windmilling frantically while Hart nimbly danced out of its way.
“Get back.” The Collector’s own raised Pokeball recalled the felled beast where it continued to spasm uncontrollably. His sneer turned into an appraising smirk. “I’ll give it to ya, boy. That was a good shot, and that Sawsbuck...” His eyes danced over the glittering fur of the spring-forme stag. “That Sawsbuck is a rare find.”
“My Sawsbuck is more than just rare.” Darryn warned, edging back around Lyla to keep himself between her and the Collector.
<Ly! Now, please take Tuesday and go!>
<But what about you?!>
“I’m sure it is, I’m sure it is...” the Collector loosened a Pokeball from somewhere inside his long trench coat, “but, as I’m sure you remember, rare and special Pokemon are my speciality.” He raised the Pokeball and threw it, summoning a Scizor where the Feraligatr had fallen. Darryn sucked his teeth.
*A Bug and Steel type like Scizor has a big advantage over a Grass Pokemon like Hart.*
As though sensing his doubt, Hart’s antlered head turned sharply in his direction. Pink petals scattered from his horns as he tossed his head with defiance. Darryn was overcome with waves of confidence and urgency, his Pokemon somehow knowing exactly what buttons to push to get the best out of his trainer.
*Shouldnt this be the other way around?* Darryn thought grimly, trying to recall what attacks Hart had that could do anything to the hard exoskeleton of such a foe Pokemon. His train of thought was soon interrupted as the Collector drew something else out of his coat. An orb, set into some sort of chain was pulled out, the silvery links of metal wound around the Collector’s hand. It shone with an eerie light, a deep red that pulsated like it had its own heartbeat that resonated with the Scizor stood before it.
Darryn blinked. Not again. Not another.
*It’s impossible!*
Despite all of his beliefs that such a thing couldn’t exist and that what had happened in Petropolis had been a one-off, there was no denying what was happening. The Scizor was evolving.
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