Tracing Origins
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. No profit is being made from this story, and it is purely for entertainment purposes.
Author's Note: A special thanks to my good friend Minyasta for her support and lovely editing skills. This is dedicated to another of my accomplices (you know who you are) who has adored this pairing since the beginning. I hope I've done it justice and to shut up that naysayer that bothered you claiming that fics involving plot and this couple do not exist.
This fic contains yaoi/shounen ai, meaning a man with another man and some very unplutonic thoughts. So if you're not into that sort of thing, kindly back out of this page and save the rest of us the pain of your stupidity when you flame me. The pairing is the unfortunately rare Originshipping (Wallace/Steven) so for those of you still brave enough to venture forward, enjoy!
Prologue
He let out a sharp hiss of pain as he gingerly touched the gash running down his side. Blood, warm and wet, trickled from the downward slanting wound and soaked the tattered remains of his shirt and suit jacket His breaths came in harsh gasps, each draw of air burning his chest and becoming more labored as the beginnings of shock set in.
No. You have to get out of here. He told himself firmly with a few hard blinks in an attempt to clear away the spots starting to plague his vision. He clung to the wall to stay upright. His legs felt like jelly and threatened to give out on him soon if he did not rest. Too bad that was not an option available to him at the moment.
"He went this way!"
"Damnit."
Gasping softly, he began the slow, painful lurch forward. The ominous echo of thudding, booted feet was uncomfortably close behind. The darkness of the tunnel shielded him but only for the moment. They were coming closer and it wouldn't be long before he was discovered.
A gray haze was beginning to seep into the edge of his vision. Not good.
He pushed on, grunting softly in the effort, towards the end of the darkened tunnel that supposedly led to his escape. Why couldn't evil madmen ever build their laboratories in more access-friendly places?
Of course. Because it would be too easy He made it to the end and nearly groaned out loud when he saw the treacherous crashing waves several meters below. A fall from his position would promise almost instant death, if not by the unpredictable thrashing of the tumultuous waves then by being slammed into the jagged rocks jutting out dangerously from the dark waters.
"There he is! This way!"
He spared a quick glance over his shoulder. The footsteps were growing louder, barely audible over the thunderous crash of waves outside. Terrific, his choices were now instant death by the waves or death by torture if he was captured. And option three?
Shakily, he fingered one of the Poke Balls hanging on his belt, nearly losing his grip on it from the blood on his fingers. "Aron, I choose you!"
There was a flash and then appeared a small creature with a large ovular head and steal-plated body. It growled fiercely, sensing the approaching danger and its master's distress, its light blue eyes glowing dangerously even in the dark. It looked at him once, concerned, but was already tensed and ready for combat as the first grunt appeared before them.
"Heh," sneered the grunt, "end of the line."
Even injured, blood spilling out of his wound, and vision now wavering, he refused to allow himself to be captured, especially not after what he'd seen in there. With great effort he shoved himself away from the wall and held himself as tall as possible, facing down the now growing number of grunts. Aron growled again as it stood in front of him protectively.
"You might as well give it up. You can't take all of us."
He edged backwards a step, looking over his shoulder one more time for any hope of escape, a stray ledge, anything. His voice was, thankfully, devoid of the weakness he felt at the moment, "Is that so?"
"Make it easy on yourself and just give up."
"Forget it, man. He wants to do this the hard way. Let's just clobber him and drag him back to the boss. He doesn't seem so tough now," came the cocky voice of another grunt.
"Or better yet, let's—"
Then something happened that neither the grunts nor he expected. A black shape hurled itself past his shoulder and slammed into the crowd of grunts. The first one who'd confronted him was thrown back violently, crying out as he was slammed into the other grunts, causing a roar of panic and confusion, legs and arms flailing out wildly. The ball, a swirling vortex of black shadow, seemed to--if it was possible--make the dark tunnel even darker, as if it sucked all the meager light into itself.
His eyes widened when he recognized the move. Shadow Ball. But who…?
"Gengar…" came a raspy voice at his shoulder, causing him to whirl in time to come face to face with a purple apparition of a Pokemon with glowing red eyes. It was floating just outside the tunnel leering at the grunts mischievously, enjoying the chaos it had caused.
The darkness was closing in on his vision, though. He swayed unsteadily. His eyes began to roll up into his head, knees buckling. Strong, gentle hands caught him but he barely felt it as he was already slipping into unconsciousness. The sound of Aron's ferocious cry and a hissed command of "Night Shade!" followed him into the welcome arms of oblivion.
Wallace…Steven Stone thought longingly as his eyelids slid shut. I'm sorry…