NOVEL NEXT Chapter 319
A/N: A reminder of who has what Pokemon:
CHAPTER 319
"Okay, so what you want is to take a deep, deep breath," I slowly whispered, one eye open. I was lying flat against the ground with Mimi next to my face in our hotel room. The steel type mewled, their eye turning to a thin, disappointed line. "I know you don't breathe, just… feel it."
Meltan stared at me, and then huffed. They pointed an arm forward and took aim toward their designated villain: Buddy. The ghost had split some of his body mass and made a Mimi-sized clone of himself, or a smidge bigger. The rest of his body was off reading a book in the living room.
Mimi cried out with a cute, squeaky sound; squeezed their eye shut and shot out a tiny, shiny metallic pebble. The throw was slow and arced through the air, glinting in the ceiling lights before it bounced off the mini-Jellicent and clattered on the ceramic tiles with a soft plink. Of course, even at full power, Mimi was harmless, but Buddy played the part. He made his eyes shine brighter than a star in the night sky, then dim and slowly lost in mass, deflating like a balloon until he crumpled on the floor as a puddle of water. It would evaporate and join back with the main body soon enough.
"You did it!" I sat up and swept Mimi up in my hands. "You vanquished Buddy— uh, the evil, nefarious Predator Of the Abyss, nay, Terror Of The Depths!" I spun them around in my arms. "No one will be able to stand up to you now! Ohhh, you deserve a feast after such a fight."
I placed the steel type on my shoulder, where they excitedly jumped up and down at the thought of replenishment. Yesterday's visit to Maylene had been… something. My friend hadn't heard anything from either her father or stepmom, so at least that was good news, but I couldn't help but anticipate his next move, if it was even coming. It was something to keep my mind occupied.
The relief I'd felt when I'd been about to send out Jellicent and attack him still haunted me. A feeling that finally, the world had stopped putting on airs and I'd be of use again was something that would haunt me for weeks to come.
Of course, Oscar hadn't even contemplated attacking me; his aura-powered voice had just been loud enough to trigger my fight or flight— and for me, it was always fight.
After grabbing my supply of scrap metal from the pantry, I lay everything out on the floor. Mimi jumped on them like a kid would in a pool and started eating their full as if they were an industrial grinder, interspersed by various metallic screeching or burps. I winked at Buddy for playing his part, and he 'winked' back, rapidly dimming one eye.
For all child-like they behaved, they'd expressed how proud they were that I hadn't attacked Oscar. They'd been on my wrist that entire day, after all. Meeting Gardenia in such circumstances hadn't been ideal, but at least she hadn't screamed at me like I feared, or thought I'd been the one to make Maylene cry, or believed I had influenced her with my empathy to be my friend. Paranoid? Maybe, but misunderstandings such as these would have been just my luck.
Arceus, months ago I would have fangirled over her so much. I still did, kind of, but I'd probably have tried to talk to her about battling or something and came on way too strong.
Being a mom was fulfilling, and more importantly distracting, but I had something else planned today beyond the usual hospital visit to Chase, Denzel and hanging out with Emilia and the others.
Visiting the League's prison.
Getting it approved had taken a while, not because letting a trainer randomly get into the most secure place in the country was unprecedented, but because the people who could push the right levers to get me in were all difficult to get a hold of. It was Andrew Frazier, who I'd managed to get permission from. He was the League Commander who had spoken to us in the bunker we'd been shoved in after the bombs. As soon as Mimi finished replenishing themselves, I lowered my hand and let them climb on it. They were always lethargic after eating, so they nearly dripped off my skin as they crawled up my arm and into my sleeve. When I told Jellicent he could keep reading should he want to, he closed the book, dropping it on the couch with Extrasensory, and he looked at me like I was stupid for even suggesting that.
"I'm not going to lie, I was hoping you'd say that." Not having a Pokemon with me would make the uneasiness ten times worse. "You just looked interested, so…"
Buddy floated over and told me the book would always remain. If something happened to me while he wasn't there he would never forgive himself. I had at best eight to nine decades left in me, so he was going to make the most of them.
"Eight to nine decades is a while," I contemplated as we walked out the hotel room. I could feel Mesprit wanting to desperately say something, clawing at the edge of my mind. "Though I guess for you, it isn't. I can't really imagine myself as an old woman."
We chatted about what I'd be like as a senior until we made it out of the hotel. I scanned the surroundings until I found the specific person I'd been looking for. Instead of making himself tall and waiting in the middle of the entryway, Louis had quietly carved out a place for himself near the decorative hedges, hidden away from any but the most attentive of eyes. I smiled and waved at him, and it took my friend a few seconds to notice me. His golden blond hair was a mess of a bedhead, but he was taking care of himself now, at least. Showering, dressing well, shaving, moisturizing, so on and so forth. The scar running from the corner of his lip to his ear he'd gotten in Coronet when we'd gone to save Cece was still as prominent on his face as it had ever been. At his side was his Gabite. The tall drake looked somewhat uneasy, his yellow eyes and body occasionally twitching. I used to find him somewhat intimidating, but he looked like a whelp next to Cynthia's Garchomp.
Granted, that was every Pokemon I'd ever seen.
"Looks like your dragon needs a fight," I said with a slight quirk in my lip. I hugged Louis, which he hesitantly returned. Gabite hastily growled in agreement. "How're you doing, Louis?"
"Gabite does need some exercise, and he'll get some soon, though he's been battling my other Pokemon as of late." Gabite grunted, complaining that he was bored of them and wanted something new, like Maeve's team. Louis exhaled and ignored him, though I wasn't sure how much of that he'd understood. "I'm… doing. Living day by day and trying to keep my head above the water. You?"
"I'm pretty much the same. Sorry I haven't been around much." I brought a single finger toward Gabite, who rumbled in response— kind of like a Glameow's purr, if you were generous. My hand caressed the dragon's neck. Petting things was nice. It was apparently the universal language of love. Of course, it was short-lived. Dragons generally didn't enjoy displays of affection from anyone other than the ones they respected.
Louis simply greeted Jellicent with a nod the ghost barely returned. "I understand. I've not exactly been available, either."
We started walking. "Right, right. How's, uh, how's—" Could I just bring the funeral up? It wouldn't be very tactful. "How are— how are things?" Gah, so awkward. I stared off to the side, toward a group of kids grumbling about the fact that we still had no word on when the Conference would be. They were probably children of government employees.
"Planning for the funeral with Al, mostly." Al was short for Albert, Justin's father and CEO of Pherzen. While I'd never seen the man, Louis had been talking to him extensively over the last few days. "We don't have—" he stuttered, then gulped, "a date yet. Sometime next week, depending on how the dice fall."
Not knowing what went into planning funerals, I had no idea if that was a long or a short time.
"But, uh, Al's been great. Him and Anna are devastated. You know, Justin— he never did believe his parents loved him as parents should, and… yeah, they weren't great." He ran a shaky hand through his hair and laughed nervously. "With the whole deal propping him up as a trainer to advertise Pherzen, and then the darkness that took him over in Solaceon it's easy to see why they were estranged."
Too quick to forgive, in my opinion, but the death of a loved one had a way of making you reevaluate everything about yourself. I answered with a noncommittal nod as we made it to the end of the beige-orange street where a tram with a flock of Starly and somehow, a Luxio was lazily riding, her tail swaying over the edge, and we waited for the streetlight to turn green.
"Any more info on the funeral?" I said. "Wait!" I yelled, soliciting annoyed stares from a few passersby. "Actually, we had a conversation before he died in Canalave where we ended up talking about being remembered and stuff because of Seafarer's Day." The light had turned green already, but Louis was too focused on what I had to say to notice, so I gently pushed him along. "We were talking about our deaths, and he said he'd rather be cremated than buried."
Louis stopped one step from the sidewalk. "What?"
Suddenly, guilt gripped me. "I'm sorry, I— I didn't forget as much as there was so much going on. I mean, there was the bombs, then we figured he was dead at the Lake, then Coronet, then…" I bit my lip. "I'm sorry."
Louis nervously chewed one of his nails, as if thinking about everything he would have to change for the funeral. "I would have liked to know earlier, but at least you remembered, so it's no harm no foul." He grabbed his phone from his pocket and started texting… Albert, I assumed, and we started walking again. "For the funeral, it'll be a small ceremony. Close friends and family only. Cousins, uncles and such," Louis said. "We're planning on holding it in— in Floaroma. Where I hope to open my sanctuary sometime next year with Albert's financial backing."
My mouth gaped. "Louis! That's amazing; I'm so happy for you, you finally found the money!" The mood cratered in a second. "I wish it could be in better circumstances, of course."
His face grew grim, and even Gabite patted him on the shoulder with a reassuring growl. "Don't we all? The land is actually going to be bought soon with the remains of what I still have from my father's wealth and Albert's generous donation, but I am hoping for Justin's Pokemon to be its first… inhabitants."
"Louis, that's— that's so sweet of you." It was a tragedy, how his father had ruthlessly eliminated that part of him for so long. "I'm sure you'll help them grieve and get through this. I honestly can't think of anyone else to help them." Louis had been the closest to Justin's team outside of Maeve, and he was just… he just seemed like he could do the job. Give parts of himself to help others. "Are they still being held at Canalave's Center?"
From what I knew, they'd been let out once to process the news of Justin's death. Every Pokemon Center had a trauma processing unit for Pokemon in case their trainer was grieviously injured or died, and while it saw way less use today thanks to Sinnoh being safe outside of a few routes and areas. They couldn't be put in their Pokeballs and kept in the dark forever. The news always had to be delivered eventually.
I just hoped they wouldn't have to be alone for long. When I asked Louis, he said there were some legality problems. Officially, he didn't have the rights to Justin's Pokemon, and he also didn't have the right to have more than six Pokemon, at the moment. My friend proceeded to tell me that normally, when a trainer died, their Pokemon passed on to their family members with priority to children, parents or trainers. If there was an issue with the Pokemon carry limit, then they'd be split among the family. If they had no family, then they were given to the Rangers, where they'd be able to get routine back into their lives and decide if they liked their new life, wanted to try something else with the government or if they'd be released back into the wild in appropriate environments.
"Then why doesn't Justin's dad have them already?" I asked.
"It's an entire process," he said. "It hasn't even been two weeks, it'll take some time to get finalized."
Legendaries, it felt so much longer than that.
Legalese about owning Pokemon made me a little sick to my stomach. It veered too much into treating Pokemon like possessions instead of partners, like so many aspects of our society. The worst offender was breeding— but I couldn't get lost in thought. I'd bet good money that Justin's Pokemon would have rather been with Louis than speaking to an assortment of Nurse Joys, no offense to them. They were great and often not appreciated enough, but a bond was not something you could reproduce on a whim.
Then again, maybe I was wrong. Maybe distance was what they needed. I wouldn't know until I saw Justin's team again.
We continued on our way toward the League's prison, making small talk about Louis' plans for his sanctuary on the way there.
He still needed a name for it.
—
The bright hospital lights were a bit of a bother for Cecilia, however she would rather sit here than be out in the sun nine times out of ten. Pauline and Emilia had just left, so it was now just her with Chase. His legs lay motionless beneath his hospital blanket, and every few minutes she would see him attempt to discreetly move them. His upper body would squirm, and he would attempt to slowly drag his lower body with it, yet movement did not come. He would keep trying, harder and harder until he'd give up with a swear and apologize for yelling.
It was after one of these outbursts, that Cecilia considered speaking up at last. She'd been largely quiet today, as she was in one of her depressive, self-deprecating moods. Some days, she was learning, like yesterday with Maylene's dad, were better than others in that regard. Perhaps it was because Cecilia had imagined facing down her own so-called 'father' in Oscar's stead to motivate herself, and her hatred of him was far more powerful than any doubt and regret that currently permeated her soul. Thinking back on that day, every time she closed her eyes, Cecilia could not help but remember the brilliant blue that had surged around Maylene. She had heard many times that aura worked outside of Type Energy, yet she'd never expected for it to be her key to seeing color once again.
And she missed seeing colors. When she closed her eyes, she could already barely remember what they looked like.
Maybe once Chase got better and Ri was done being healed, she would ask and see if his was the same. She wasn't going to text Maylene first unless it was to check if she needed help with her father, or to give random advice for dealing with abusive pieces of trash. That girl had a crush on Grace that was growing by the day; the fact that she was so brazen about it right in front of Cecilia's face angered her to no end. It wasn't on purpose, she knew. Maylene was likely blind to her own truth as Cecilia had been until Grace had spoken to her about what being gay was like. Cecilia had watched her girlfriend like a hawk to see if there were any signs of reciprocating the crush, and no alarm bells had gone off. Grace was also utterly clueless: she had always been blind to everyone's love for others but her own. Empath or not, it wasn't like she was peering into people's emotions.
A while ago, she'd given Grace an ultimatum. Look at her emotions without her explicit permission, and their relationship would be over with no second chances available.
Over. That was a terrifying word, now. So much so that Cecilia wasn't sure if that ultimatum still applied today. How much of herself had she left behind when she'd died, for a breech of privacy so deep not to move the needle? Not that she expected Grace to do so, anyway. It was just mortifying to think that she'd changed so much. Too much.
It was just—
Cecilia knew she had grown unhealthily attached, worse than they'd ever been when they realized there had been an issue in the first place. Grace knew as well. It was just easier to ignore, because fixing this would require so much hurt it might as well be impossible. What if Grace picked Maylene over her? She just didn't want to be abandoned. Cold. Alone. Who else would ever love her? Who else would ever understand her? Who else could ever make her feel so warm? So it was, that she found the best move to be to stay quiet and not say anything about Maylene at all, lest the situation blow up and ruin everything.
Speak no evil, as they said. Cecilia supposed that Grace would be 'hear' and Maylene would be 'see' in the equation.
Either way, today was one of the bad days, especially given that Grace wasn't here. The world felt so cold without her.
"You shouldn't exert yourself too much," Cecilia quietly said. "It might hamper your recovery."
Chase smiled— and bitterly. "Right. Right." His shoulders sagged, and he leaned back in the bed. The TV in the top left corner of the room was, for once, not playing the news. He must have switched it to some random Pokemon battling program. People were trying to get back to normal. "Cece, I— my legs—" He choked on his own words and slammed a fist on his bed railings. "Fuck."
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No, you— damn it, I fucking hate that you— you know what, whatever." He threw his hands up. "It was a lie, Cecilia. I'm never walking again. I'm a cripple." Were those tears? No, they weren't there yet, but his eyes were wet to the point that he rubbed them with his arm.
The hurt must have clearly shown on Cecilia's face, because her friend glared at her.
"Don't fucking pity me; this is why I didn't want to tell anyone," he growled. "I hate this. If you're going to tell me that you're sorry, just leave—"
Suddenly, Cecilia found herself on her knees on the side of his bed, grabbing one of his hands so tightly that her wrists hurt. Chase squirmed in his bed, trying to escape her grip, but no matter how hard he pulled, how harshly her arm moved, her hand stayed locked around his, squeezing more the harder he fought.
"Cecilia, what the hell—"
"So what?" she demanded to know.
"Huh?"
"So what? What comes next? What are your next moves?" Each question, she came closer to her friend, yet unlike all the other rubes out there, he actually faced her without flinching. Yes, she thought. Look into my eyes and see me!
"First of all, get off me," he grumbled. The Unovan did so, calmly sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs. Chase shook his hand in the air. "Mean grip you've got there. I think I get what you mean. What's the plan to fulfill our oath, right?"
Her confidence evaporated. "I know I'm no longer a Shard— or barely one— but I was hoping that—"
"Oh, shut up," Chase sighed. "Who cares about some magical powers we have in our heads? Ruling is about people. You and I, we're people. Azelf is a concept. The faceless, nameless, soulless fucks who suck out all the wealth out of the Iron Islands without ever stepping foot there to see what they've done aren't people— but— but yeah, I still want to be the Champion."
Cecilia smiled, relieved with the news that they were still halves of a whole. "So what are you going to do? I have a plan of action for my arrival— and a list of objectives I need to achieve within the next five years with me as Champion or at least a member of the Unova Elite Four by the end; able to push policy. Have you given it some thought since waking up?"
Chase blew a raspberry. "You know I'm not one for plans; I'm a man of action, Cece. Action."
Cecilia looked down at him, stuck in his bed. "A man of action who currently is unable to do anything. A man of action who has spent the last few days brooding— and I get it." The rectification was swifter than his coming anger. "I'm sorry about your Abomasnow. A tragedy, what Mars did to him; hopefully you will see him again some day."
He waited for the next sentence. The 'I'm sorry about your legs.'
It didn't come, because she understood him more than anyone else currently alive other than Ri.
He relaxed and nodded.
"If Abomasnow wakes up a few years down the line, I want to have done something," he said. "I want to have progressed and for him to be proud of it. He wanted to be stronger, that was why I caught him, but he supported me, also. Especially after we saw the Iron Islands again."
Cecilia nodded. "Make him proud, Chase." She let the moment pass, watching Chase reminisce.
"Legendaries, I love you." The statement took her aa little aback. She'd only seen Grace say that to her friends in a platonic way. "I hope you get that through that thick skull of yours." As if to mimic her cranial structure, he knocked on his head with his knuckles. "You have people other than Grace to help ya out. No need to look like it's a funeral all the time."
"I just like wearing black," she said.
"I meant your face, but whatever."
She ignored him. "Now, what is, in your opinion, your fastest road to power?" After turning off the TV, she leaned forward in her chair. Cecilia always enjoyed this kind of talk. "Now, when I say power, I don't—"
"You don't mean the Champion, I know." He hummed and started to think. "Could join the army. With the Voice still in my pocket and my skill I could probably climb up the ranks relatively quickly, even if I'd have to find a way to move around."
"But that's not what you care about," she guessed.
"As much as it pains me, I will have to join the system that keeps my people down. If I do it, I want to have a say as fast as possible. Feels less dirty that way."
"How does… Gym Leader of Canalave sound?"
Chase's mouth gaped; his eyes widened, and then he scoffed. "So what, become some fucking Gym Trainer lackey, toil for years and then lead some fucking palace coup?"
Palace coup? He must have read some of the books she got him. Good.
"Byron is old. He turns fifty-three this summer and I doubt he'll go as long as Fantina did," she explained.
"Yeah, and the piece of rusted steel picks his successor. Is he going to pick the poor sod from the Iron Island who wants to burn the system down, or meat puppet number twenty-three who'll continue not to rock the boat?"
Cecilia chuckled, a surprise to even herself. "Rule is never so easy. You still see him as a caricature; black and white without any depth."
Chase rolled his eyes. "Come on, Cecilia. He's an accomplice to oppression. In fact, he's not just an accomplice, he fucking puts a nice stamp on it every day and says, 'why yes, Teracore!'" He took in a faux-happiness and clasped his cheeks with his hands. "'Please continue fuck my people in the ass and I'll watch and cheer you on from the side!' Give me a break; he's pathetic."
She wrinkled her nose at the crude remark.
"Yes." Cecilia thought back to a certain Unovan currently in League custody and dug her nails into her seat. "Yet even the worst of villains have substance to them." Legendaries, it pained her to say this. Literally. As if her throat was on fire. Luckily it was less intense than when she'd tried to use the Voice twice in a day, so she did not let it show. "He's not doing this because he wants to—"
"Yadda, yadda, power comes with its limitations, I know." He irritatingly waved a hand and adjusted his seating position, lifting himself by the arms. "I'm saying I don't give a fuck and that it doesn't matter to me." A short silence settled in, and he looked up at the ceiling as if to think. "But I was thinking."
"Thinking?"
His eyes lit up with a sudden brilliance, widening as if a spark had ignited within them and was growing brighter and brighter. "I like this idea. Lets me get right in the thick of things, and it gives me an opportunity to clean the shit out of Byron's ear if he still has a soul. Get some work done early."
She leaned forward, and the motion nearly had her fall off her chair. "Tell me what you're going to do."
"I'm not going to hand in my application and go for a round of interviews. I'm going to battle him."
His answer rang out throughout the hospital room, swallowing the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the chatter outside for a moment.
She waited for further explanation, but that was it. "...you would lose," she declared without a shadow of a doubt. They were good, yes, but not good enough to win in a five against six. The only training he'd done with his Wimpod was endurance and movement-based, some of which she'd seen during their time in the Iron Islands, and there was no way the little bug would ever be up to par. From the passionate way he'd spoken, he had meant the battle would be soon, as in, when the Gym Battle opened again soon. "Without Abomasnow, you cannot win. Byron is not the kind of man who will go soft because of your contributions to taking down Galactic—"
"Fuck no, he isn't, and that's a good thing," he retorted, fists clenched. "And yeah, maybe I'll lose, but if I did, that wouldn't bother me much. Who gives a fuck about some badge? It was never about the badges for me. Fucking trinkets. If I do this right, I'll win in every way that matters, Cecilia," he said, grinning like a madman. "I'll talk to him right there, man to man. Think about it. Think about how I'll fucking expose him in public."
Cece scoffed. "So what, are you going to list statistics about poverty and harsh living conditions in the middle of a fight? I doubt it's something he doesn't already know, and if you're going for a PR angle—"
"Bah, even I don't know the stats. You don't need stats to prove what you see with your fucking eyes every day." Cecilia decided to ignore that dangerous line of thinking. "When I say I'll speak to him through battle, I mean it."
That fire within him; the flame of ambition; so bright Cecilia felt it sear the edges of her skin. They'd all had it, once.
It looked like Chase had been the first one to reignite it.
"When the day comes," he said, "I want you to be the one to push my wheelchair up there. I mean I could probably use my hands and the ramp they got on the side, but—"
Cecilia steeled herself. "Of course, I will."
He smiled. "Thanks, pal."
—
Shuffling into Sinnoh's highest security prison, as it turned out, took time. The building looked a lot more boring than I figured it would. From the outside, it appeared as a nondescript, concrete monolith nestled in a remote corner of the island. We'd had to travel by a lonely road for forty minutes to get here on foot, which didn't sound like long but had my feet numb by the end. It had been a lot easier to ignore my legs and feet hurting when the fate of the world hung in the balance. Tomorrow for sure, I'd start running. Didn't I have Chase's personalized workout plan he'd given me for my birthday crumpled in my bag somewhere? I was pretty certain I'd lost it; maybe Maylene could be of help to get me fit again if she wasn't too busy with work. Wouldn't that be fun? I missed good old fun. I wished I could just remember how to do and enjoy goofy stuff without putting up a façade for my kids. Actually, Maylene was busy helping in Snowpoint today, but she'd left Lucario, Medicham and Machamp— who she had gotten back this morning— to watch the Gym. She didn't know which Gym Trainers to trust right now, so her Pokemon were needed to keep watch.
But I was getting sidetracked.
So, the prison. Gray concrete blocks stacked on top of each other. The walls around the prison stretched high into the sky, crowned with coils of barbed wire that glinted dully in the sparse sunlight. There were guards all around, of course, either in towers, flying on Pokemon or patrolling. We'd been stopped by many League officers on the way here until we'd given the visitor slip afforded to us by Commander Frazier because civilians weren't allowed this close, and now we had a high-ranking League Trainer whose name I didn't catch leading us to the gates. We'd crossed a sign a few miles back warning that anyone caught beyond this point who was not authorized could be met with lethal force, which Louis was nervous about even though we had the right to be here.
The guard at the entrance checked our identification thoroughly and analyzed our minds with a Mr. Mime before allowing us to pass through the heavy iron gate. One of the ones personally trained by Lucian's who helped create barriers in the higher rounds of the Conference. The psychic was very intrigued at my brain and decided to delve deeper until she was struck by a sudden headache and— was knocked back into an invisible wall?
"Knock it off," the guard said. "Don't mind her, she's one for theatrics."
I heard Mesprit giggle in the back of my mind. The headache was real, though!
Please don't give Pokemon doing their jobs random headaches, I thought.
Hmph. Whatever, just go and see Natalia already! I want to see how she's doing! I wish you were visiting her today!
Ugh, they were so whiny at times. The gate creaked open, revealing the barren, gravel-covered courtyard ahead of us. It was actually disturbing, how all vegetation had bled away, leaving only desolation. The crunch of stones underfoot was the only sound in the oppressive silence. Towers rose from the earth, each one containing at least one Kadabra and Trainer standing guard. Reaching the main building, I was met by another guard who led me to a small, sterile waiting room. There, I had to sign a visitor log and surrender my belongings, which were placed in a secure locker. That meant that our Pokemon also had to be put away, including Mimi. The steel type hated their Pokeball, but there was only so much I could bend the rules to my favor. The room was dark and dreary; heavy enough to be uncomfortable, especially when we started ambling through the cell hall to our destination. This place was where I expected so many stories to meet their death knell, and yet it was just so empty of everything that was human, as if everything and everyone had resigned themselves to the end of their tale.
The entire hallway was clad in nondescript white, along with bright lights that hurt to look at for too long, as if being uncomfortable was the point. As if an extended stay here was supposed to have you return to a blank slate. The cells were covered up by reinforced glass, allowing us to glance at many of the Team Galactic members who had been captured alive in Coronet. Their rooms were utterly barren. From the moment one stepped inside, it was as if reality itself had been stripped away. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all a blinding, sterile white, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed incessantly overhead. There were no windows, no breaks in the monotonous expanse of color— just an endless sea of white that seemed to stretch on forever. The only way for the prisoners to know what time of the day it was was when their food was delivered to them, but even then they'd still lose track of how many days had passed eventually. There would be no break in the monotony, ever.
It was a prison designed to break your mind.
Most of the Galactic grunts were not broken, however. They actually seemed in alright spirits, and I attributed that to the fact that one, they probably still believed Cyrus would come save them at some point; two, they had only been there for a few days.
"There she is," the guard who was leading us said. "Inmate 58." He twisted a handle next to the prison cell, and part of the glass wall slid away as if it was a window. "Louis Bianchi, follow me to inmate 72."
I pulled on Louis' sleeve before he could go. "Good luck with Harvey."
His face grew grim. "I've wanted a conversation with my father for a long time. I won't let it slip past my fingers."
Louis left with the guard, and I turned toward the inmate. Not Natalia— I was going to speak to her later today— but Clara, named Grace Pastel the fourth by Mars. Just like Cecilia had said, she looked very similar to me. Her face was a little longer, her hair a little more golden; she had fewer freckles, but they were spread out throughout her face more than mine, which were mostly on my cheeks and the bridge of my nose. I wouldn't go as far as to call her my doppleganger, but I could understand why Mars had gone after her to cope with the fact that she couldn't get me.
This poor girl. She'd been burned too, enough for the left side of her face and neck to scar like mine. The white prisoner's uniform she was wearing was covering too much to see if the burns extended further, but I knew Mars wouldn't have spared her the pain if it meant she could be more like me.
Her look of disbelief at my presence bled away, leaving a glare hateful enough to kill in its place. Had someone else ever looked at me like this? Not even Saturn's gaze had been this hateful.
I'd expected this. This hatred. From her perspective, I'd been the main cause of all of her issues. If I'd never been involved with Team Galactic in the first place; if Mars had never grown obsessed with me because of my weakness, then my similarity to her; if I hadn't hurt Maylene and others and given Mars a reason to think we were similar; if I had died at the power plant at Valley Windworks; if I had died in Solaceon; if I had died in the raid on Backlot's mansion—
If, if, if. You'd never run out if you kept thinking back. So many actions of my doing had only increased Mars' obsession with me that they'd directly led into this girl and three of her predecessors being tortured physically and mentally for months on end.
It honestly did not hurt nearly as much as I thought it would. Not because I wasn't concerned about her; I was just too exhausted to care.
"Clara—"
She shot up from her bed. "You." She stomped her way toward me, her body so full of hate she bumped her head into the glass. "You fucking show up here? After everything?"
I sighed. From the way Cecilia had described her, she'd been rather meek—
Clara laughed, throwing her hands up. "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I'm boring perfect little Grace Pastel. Maybe if you hate it so much here you should go out and enjoy your freedom so I never have to see— to think about you again."
No sighing. Okay. Another attempt. "Look, I'm sorry I—"
"Oh, you're sorry now, are you? I should be out here, and you should be in here." Her voice was so full of hate— of vitriol that spittle landed on the glass between us. "See how you like it, to have your Pokemon, your dreams and your individuality taken away from you." She gripped at her uniform, where the number 58 had been embroidered in black. "No one calls me by my name here. I do nothing all day, and they won't tell me what they did with Musharna! My parents don't even know I was arrested and that I'm in prison, and even if they did, they wouldn't be able to visit! This is all on you! Fuck you."
Her breaths were ragged, her chest rising up and down as if she'd just gone on a run. She was waiting, I knew. Waiting for a reaction. She had built up an image of me for months in her head. Most likely, Clara had played out this argument within her own mind more times than she could count. I did not blame her. Hate was a very good vehicle to fuel you during trying times. You needed something to keep yourself going; I'd been the easiest target to go after.
Yeah.
I looked up at her, tired and weary. "Did that feel good?"
"You think you're so above me, aren't you? Like I don't even deserve your attention," she hatefully spat. Rarely had I heard someone speak with so much venom in their tone. "Like you're better than me because I'm mad. I deserve to be mad— I—" she shrieked and tore at her hair.
It had been a genuine question to figure out if we were going to be able to speak any time soon. If she needed more hate, I'd let her hate me. No matter how much she berated me, I'd be there at the end to have a talk.
But the answer was no, then.
"Okay," I said, emotionless.
So I let her scream at me for Arceus knows how long. At some point, she was just threatening to kill me or calling me names. Bitch. Attention whore. Whatever, honestly.
I wanted to close my eyes.
I wanted to see Cece.
—
"Is this it, then?" Louis asked. "Are you just going to be a child and ignore me?"
Louis' father, Harvey Bianchi, had been in this cell for months. He had lost a bit of weight, but what was most striking was that defeated look in his eyes. He remained here, a shadow of his former self, with neither ambition nor greed to drive him. He had schemed for years, growing richer and richer, and he had forced his hand too much and paid for it.
Now, all that remained was a husk. Louis figured that they were similar, in this way. When they realized all was lost, they grew nonresponsive. Like Louis when he had heard the world might end, his father sat on the side of his bed, his eyes downcast and his hands set on his thighs. Sometimes, he would mumble. Others, his body would tense and he'd close his eyes and shake his head, as if to chase away his own inner demons.
All that time, Louis had wanted to speak to him one last time. One final conversation before he turned that page on that part of his life. The part with the version of him he despised more every day, with the sleaziness, the ego, the cluelessness, the fake friends and girlfriends. It had all been his father's doing. He alone had molded Louis into an easy to manipulate man so he could further his father's goals. Louis shook his head and laughed dryly.
"I just wanted to know why it had to be this way," Louis whispered. "I just wanted to know if you ever loved me, but you can't even give me that. You couldn't even stay strong enough to wait to speak to me." Feeling rage bubble up inside of him, Louis hit the glass with his fist so hard the pain from the impact spread throughout his arm. "I know you're capable of speaking. They told me you're allowed to speak to your lawyers and they come back once a week!" he yelled. "You're a pathetic, miserable excuse of a human being. I'm ashamed of being your son."
He turned to walk away—
"...did it…you…"
Louis' head whirled to the side so quickly his neck hurt. He scrambled back close to the glass, ashamed to still be so desperate for a word from his father, yet unable to resist the prospect of a conversation.
"What?" he asked, no; he demanded.
"I did it for you," Harvey said. "I needed to set you up for success, son. Mark Obel is the Champion of Unova and Cecilia was not going to inherit the position of CEO. It was going to go to you, we just needed…"
Ah. And then he would have had an easy to control CEO at the helm of one of the largest companies in the world.
Louis tuned him out.
Even now, he was obsessed with business. His eyes had some life in them now, as if he was daydreaming of what could have been.
They'd lit up now, but not when seeing Louis again for the first time in months.
He had never loved him.
Louis walked away less hurt than he thought he would be by that revelation.
—
Clara was on her knees, now, softly hitting the glass with her fist where my face was. She was utterly exhausted, yet when I looked at her, I still only saw more hatred. If I used my empathy, I would be certain, yet just looking at her face was enough to see. Tears were not enough to hide herself behind.
"Why?" Clara sobbed. "Why are you just taking it?!"
Alas, she had failed to get me to fight back. Clara had thrown herself against a wall and crumpled to the floor a crying, sobbing mess.
"Because I wanted you to do this until you were satisfied," I softly said. "Is it enough, now? I'll wait as long as you need—"
"That's not—" she inhaled, sobbing, "what I want."
"I'm afraid I can't fit the mold you have given me. I am sorry," I said, bowing my head slightly. "I thought that you would be satisfied once you hated me enough. Can I talk, now?"
"N—" she couldn't say no. She was too intrigued by what I was about to say. Clara took a deep breath, stood up and put her back to the glass. "Whatever."
"It is my understanding that you helped Cecilia and Maeve ascend up the mountain. Without your guidance, there's a chance they might have been too late to save the world."
She didn't respond, which I found strange. Didn't she see where this was going?
"I'm saying that you contributed to the effort to save His creation," I pressed. "I think I can vouch for you and— and get you out of here at some point."
Again, she said nothing, but her shoulders grew stiff and her next breath was a shaky one. I knew that bodily motion anywhere. Excitement. Hope. I understood a little better, now. Clara didn't want to tell herself that she was accepting help from the girl who had from her point of view caused so much of her suffering. To some extent, I felt like I'd be the same.
"Of course, it'd probably still take some time. You'd have to be assessed mentally and get some deprogramming done so they're sure you're free from the cult's influence— and again, that's just what the League would want, not me," I quickly spoke before she could blow up at me. "I think I could find out what happened to your Musharna, but odds are she's just in her Pokeball being held until they figure out what to do with her. I have a lot of influence here." I caressed the glass with my finger. An idle motion. "I could stop that and allow her to remain to you. I could bring you, uh, books, or comics, or snacks and other small-scale stuff if you need it. I'm allowed to visit here whenever I want, and I plan on coming back soon to see someone else. I could come back…" I wasn't ready to commit to once a day yet, so I gave it some thought. "Once every two days to bring you something. And tell you what's going out on the outside."
"And what," she started, crossing her arms, "do you want in return?"
I blinked, slightly confused. "For you to say yes?"
"What?"
"I— I'm just waiting for you to agree to this," I said. "Is it okay?"
"Wha—" She finally turned my way again. "Why wouldn't it be okay?"
"Because it's me asking you this?" If it hadn't worked, I would have sent Cecilia instead tomorrow. This only felt more appropriate. "You hate me. You could say no."
"I literally do not care. Mars could have walked down this hallway and proposed the same deal and I would have taken it…" she trailed off. "Maybe— maybe not Mars. Jupiter."
There were steps to my left. Louis was coming back. "Okay, I'll let Commander Frazier know about this. Your life should change significantly from tomorrow on, so just hold on, okay?"
"O—okay. Thanks. I guess."
With Louis now here, the conversation ended pretty quickly. I bid my goodbyes to Clara and we shuffled back to the locker room. My heart felt a little lighter when I told Louis about how things had gone.
"What about the other girl?" Louis asked. "Natalia, right?"
While Louis didn't know exactly what had gone on in Coronet or the Distortion World, I'd seen it fit to explain Mars' origins. Emi and Pauline knew as well.
On my tiptoes, I opened my locker and grabbed my Pokeballs and backpack. "I would have visited her, but Cynthia wants to assess her… way of thinking first."
"I see. And what's the goal with her? Do you want her out, too?" Louis closed his locker and began clipping his Pokeballs to his trainer belt. "If I were you I'd want nothing to do with her."
"I don't know," I slowly answered. "I guess I'll have to see for myself."
Two minutes later, we were on our way out.
—
The rest of the afternoon had gone by at a Slugma's pace, as it usually did when I ran out of things to do. Mimi was out of their ball again and out and about, exploring the condo at their leisure— under Jellicent's supervision, of course. The water type was getting better at multitasking his true other selves, not just his Night Shades. A tiny piece of him hovered next to the couch I was playing dead on, whispering to me about either Mimi's whereabouts or interesting history tidbits from his book. The other two were either playing babysitter or reading.
I'd be able to get the next batch of my family pretty soon. Sweetheart, Honey and Cass were going to finish getting healed within the next few days, but the others would need more time.
I tossed and turned on the couch, never quite finding a comfortable position. Occasionally I'd get an alert from my phone that I'd forget to check because I just had no energy, but at least it was something. If I hadn't had to go to the bathroom, eat and the hotel had been cut off from the outside world, maybe I'd just lay here and let the days pass. Maybe weeks. Months?
"I can't think like this." I sighed and sat upright, tapping my feet against the cold, smooth floor. "What else is there to do? More research on Pokemon Rights, maybe…"
Or I could text Cece. It was nearly six in the evening and she wasn't back yet. Was she busy?
You - Hey baby.
You - When are you coming back to the hotel? I want to see you.
Damn it. I clicked my tongue and quickly added something else before she could type her response.
You - You don't have to feel obligated to come. If you can't, don't worry about it.
Cece - I'm with Chase talking about future plans. I spent the day with him.
'Future plans' was vague, but I wasn't too bothered about it. The next speech bubble formed; my heart hammered in my chest and my hands clammed up when I awaited her response.
Cece - I can come back. We were going to finish soon.
I gasped in relief and kicked my feet.
You - See you soon <3
Happiness had permeated through me already. I found it so much easier to get up and get the place in order. We had some dirty clothes lying around— some of which I threw in the laundry. Plates and cups which had been littering, I put in the dishwasher, and I opened the windows to cycle some air through the place, allowing the setting sun to filter through. I hadn't even realized how much time flew by by the time I heard the door click open before I could get started on dinner.
I took a peek from behind a wall and grinned. "You look like you had a good time." She wasn't smiling or anything— ah, well, she was now, but it was more about how she carried herself. She was a lot more… relaxed, but not too much like when she attacked Oscar.
"Chase and I had a very productive conversation," she said, carefully taking off her shoes.
"Hm? About?"
"He asked me to keep a lid on it for now. Though he told me he apologized for what he said to you. About how you figured out his legs weren't going to get better."
So he had told her. Good; the sooner the truth came out, the more united we'd be to get through this. It was hypocritical of me given that they still didn't know the full extent of what had happened— and outside of Chase, they would never know— but that was entirely different. The apology was welcomed, too. At least I knew he hadn't really meant what he'd said.
I wrapped my arms around Cece and placed my head on her chest, tucking my head right under her chin. One of her hands came up to stroke my hair.
"What's wrong? Did Clara refuse your offer?" Cece asked once the hug continued for longer than usual.
"She didn't, it was just… hard. I'm just recharging. You're my charger." I inhaled loudly, and we both laughed. "What? You smell good!" I giggled. "I love you. I—I need you."
Her heart skipped a beat.
I looked up at her; I could feel her breath on my lips. Before she died, she would have kissed me right then and there, but I guess I had to take the lead because she wasn't sure of herself. I only had to stand on my tiptoes and—
The ringing phone didn't have to interrupt our kiss, but Cecilia instantly felt off the moment she heard it, like she wasn't into it as much anymore andshe was preoccupied by something else. I should have put the damn thing on silent like I usually did, but I'd turned on alerts to get a break from how monotonous the day had been.
It was a message from Mallory Ryan, asking me to meet tonight and saying that this would be her last and final offer. I quickly explained the situation to Cece.
"Oh. I see," she nervously said.
"Damn it," I sighed. "This is like an ambush."
She was flipping the table and seeing if I wanted this meeting as much as her. To see how committed I was to the cause after our argument after my interview. She'd even offered to send a Teleporter herself— rich people like her often hired psychic trainers for their small-scale travel, though I knew there was a bill currently passing through the Directorate to draft those people and Pokemon while help from Indigo got here.
"Guess I didn't give her enough credit," I slowly said before staring back at Cece. "Should I—"
"You should," Cece said. "Of course, you should."
"Yeah." My shoulders sagged. "I should."
It was time to face the music.