'Twas a starlit summer night,
And the moon was shining bright;
A young man's dilemma lay unsolved;
On one hand, duty called
For him to serve, to fight and honour
His homeland's laws that makes it stronger.
But on the other hand, his heart that wanders aimlessly,
Was pierced by Cupidon's arrows so surely;
One blessed touch of Venus and his heart thumps loud;
And, clichéd as it might seem, but her face he sees in the clouds,
Her voice he hears in the night, her grace seethed into the wind.
And so he sits, his thought afloat,
There but not quite there,
A deadly, sinister antidote,
Just, and yet, unfair.
"… That will be all. Connor Ketchum, go to my office without delay. We have things to discuss."
A tall sturdily built man in a uniform stood before the crowd of Rangers. His rectangular face was cleanly shaved, revealing a long scar running from his ears to his chins. His eyes had a grey tint, almost like the colour of those sleek fighter jets you see in movies, and his eyebrows… They seemed to be indefinitely fixed in a slight arch, giving him the impression of an intense officer. The short nose was angled up, giving him an air of authority; not too high to the point of elitism, but just high enough to show that he knew what he was doing. His pale lips were closed in a disciplined manner; if one was to look carefully, one would see a carefully stitched scar on his lips, suggesting an old war injury. Despite his age, everything about his appearance, especially his short military haircut, screamed that this was not a fragile old man in need of protection; this was a mighty warrior, ready to protect his people at a moment's notice.
He was General Falcon, his medals covering his uniform. If one looked carefully, then one could see the Viridian Feather award; an award, only given to the best of the best. In the whole history of the Kantonese Federation, only 7 of these medals were ever given out! To have received one was a tremendous honor. Anyone who was awarded the medal commanded respect and admiration of everyone around him. And General Falcon was no exception; he was a disciplined man of highest moral standards. The Rangers he trained were some of the best ones in the world. To study under him was a great honor. But, it was also a great responsibility; General Falcon demanded nothing short of one's best. The terms 'slack off' and 'free pass' didn't exist in his vocabulary; he treated every single one of his soldiers equally, whether he was a homeless boy with potential, or a minister's son. If you screwed up, you screwed up; period. You succeeded, then, well, good for you. Not to say that he didn't care for them; deep inside, as much as he refused to acknowledge it, he still loved his trainees like sons; well, in his own twisted way.
But most of all, he was a practical man; not a minute was to be wasted; and a wide spectrum of things were considered a waste of time by the old general. So to be summoned to his office, you must have screwed up badly somewhere. In fact, as Lt Surge once admitted, it was one of the things he was scared of most. Lieutenant Surge! One of the Gym Leaders, the military officers of major cities! To be a Gym Leader, you had to be incredibly skilled; in fact, Lt Surge was considered the most brutal and efficient battler of all of them! Of course, Blaine was more experienced and Giovannie was considered a genius. But, overall, he was still the third strongest Gym Leader of Kanto!
So to have him admit that he was scared of General Falcon, that more than shows the old man's intolerance to slacking off, failure due to having not put enough efforts, and just what a bad idea it was to piss him off in general. So, Connor Ketchum being summoned to the office was a shock to everyone; Connor was seen as an exemplary Ranger. He was one of the general's best men. Even though the war was far behind, the Rangers were still active, tracking down old relics of the war, protecting settlements from dangerous Pokemon… Naturally, someone had to see those operations. And General Falcon was chosen. But, due to old age, the old man often needed assistance- no matter how much he refused to admit it. Connor was something like a right hand to the old general; Connor was trusted to keep order and discipline in the ranks of the Rangers.
"Hey, Connor!" Connor turned around in slight annoyance.
"What is it? Make it quick, Lance; you know how he's like when we're late." Connor turned around, his timber-wolf eyes filled with a mixture of annoyance and slight fear. Lance smirked; Connor was always a serious guy; always focused, solemn and emotionless. In fact, Lance hasn't heard him laugh; ever, not in the 12 years they served together. But Lance knew that underneath that stone-cold face, there was a guy who just wanted to have fun. Lance still remembered the time they all got drunk, after all. Suddenly, a devilish master-plan conceived itself inside his head.
"Promise me you'll come back, darling." Seeing his friend's eyes bulge in surprise, Lance erupted in laughter. His stomach was aching from laughing so much, when suddenly… Ow! He felt like a two-ton truck hit him in the guts. Looking up, his eyes still damp with tears from his 'howling', he saw Connor with a murderous look.
"Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again." Lance gulped. Connor was a good guy; he wasn't the mushy type that would cry with you about your problems; he'd just sit, listen to it, and give you an advice at the end. But, if there was one thing he did not tolerate, than that was joking about his wife.
Connor stood in General Falcon's office. Just like the man himself, the room was modest and practical; no decorations. Just a desk, a few bookshelves and a drawer with his belongings. General Falcon himself stood quietly at the window, looking far into the mountains. An uncomfortable silenced settled. Connor nervously shifted. The suspense was killing him. He just wanted to get this over with.
"Sir?" General Falcon finally responded, slowly turning around. As he walked closer, Connor couldn't help but think that the old man was taking his time. Each second that passed felt like an eternity to Connor. Come on, faster! The sight of his superior's faces a mere few inches from his own jolted Connor back to reality. Connor automatically straightened up, standing to attention.
A few tense seconds later, General Falcon finally spoke up. "At ease, soldier."
A few more seconds passed. Tension was so thick it was palpable; and, so was the awkwardness. After all, the general was a practical person; he never wasted time on anything. If he had something to be said, he said it. If he wanted to do something, he did it. He never spent time excessively.
"I know what you plan to do." Connor felt his heart skip a beat; had the old general found out? It was a difficult decision, but his father drilled the importance of the family into Connor. However, he didn't know how the old general would react to that. He knew how much the old man trusted him. Rumors said that Falcon planned to make him his successor.
So, Connor stood, for the first time in his life, not knowing what to do. The old general turned away from him, looking at the mountain tops just outside of the Indigo Plateau, their headquarters. Guilt gnawed at Connor; he knew how much faith the old general put into him. Finally, General Falcon broke the silence.
"Let me tell you a story." Seeing that Connor was about to object to it, he raised a hand. Turning back to Connor, the old general smiled softly – something that no one thought was possible.
"They always say that the Great War was brutal and harsh… But no words can do it justice. Why? Because the war spared no one; not the children, not the women, not the elderly." General Falcon closed his eyes, but not before Connor spotted a haunted look.
"I remember being drafted into the army. I had a young wife. Oh, what a fine woman she was! Kind, gentle, beautiful… She was so full of life, so confident… She was everything a man could have wanted." General Falcon sighed, reluctantly pulling himself back to reality. He looked at Connor, raising an eyebrow.
"You know, just like that wife of yours. I remember seeing my wife at the train station, just before I, along with about 700 boys from our town, St Jacturas, set out to war. She stood there, tears in her eyes. She clearly didn't want me to leave; but she knew it was for the good of the nation. So I left for the army. Knowing that I was doing it to protect her, I was able to find the strength to carry me through the boot camp. That knowledge carried me through the war; the Battle for the Sevii islands, the Battle of The Cerulean Cape, The Siege of Fuschia…" General Falcon turned back at to the window, not wanting to show the pain in his eyes.
"Then, the damn 9th Legion turned coats. With the support of the traitors, The Unovans managed to push us all the way back St Jacturas- a few miles away from Viridian. However, through some miracle, we were able to defeat them when they attacked the town. We put artillery cannons and Blastoise on the roofs of tall buildings, including the town's only hospital. Unfortunately, in a last ditched effort, the damn Unovans attacked the hospital. My darling has volunteered to help the doctors there. They hit it with several hundred men; we couldn't get there in time. Perhaps if they'd attacked 25 minutes later…" Connor's eyes widened. Even though General Falcon often told stories of his days in the army, he never, ever mentioned anything from his personal life.
"I've never seen her again. I still remember her eyes sparkling when she smiles; I still remember her voice. "
...
"Go to her. And promise me, son; never leave her." Connor felt of torrent of emotions run through him. The only one who called him 'son' was his own father. Now that he thought about it, General Falcon was a spitting image of his father. To have his superior call him like that not only brought back memories of the insecurities he used to have as a child, crying for his father's recognition; the word also brought an immense amount of satisfaction and pride that he couldn't really explain. Perhaps because he finally received open recognition from the grouchy old general; perhaps it was because the man has indeed become his unofficial adopted father. But, excusing himself, Connor couldn't help but note the bright smile plastered on his face; one that he couldn't remove no matter what. Ah well; best call Delia about the news.
"Mommy, is dad finally going to come home?" A small raven haired boy bounced around excitedly. He was finally going to meet his Daddy! No more teasing about his father from the other boys!
A woman stood at the table, dicing an onion, her long mahogany hair tied in a neat braid. She couldn't help but smile at her son's enthusiasm. Truly, as she herself was excited; ever since she'd heard the news, she just felt like singing. Even her little boy, with all his denseness and self-absorption, asked her why she was dancing. Why wouldn't she? Her husband would finally retire and come back!
"Yes darling, he's finally coming back." Delia winced as she almost cut her finger; she was getting distracted.
"Why don't you go out and play with Gary?" Delia couldn't help but grin widely when she heard rapid footsteps. The little boys were inseparable! Too bad little Gary was leaving for the Viridian Academy… Wait, what is that smell? Oh no? She had accidentally burnt the toast!
Gary lied on the grass, counting clouds. Oh, there's the cloud that resembled an Absol. Rapid footsteps alerted Gary tot someone coming. Turning his head, Gary spotted Ash running towards him. Gary couldn't help but notice the extra bounce in his friend's steps, the way his eyes were gleaming for some reason… What made him so happy?
"Hey, Gary." There was something in Ash that Gary liked; he instantly adapted to and accepted Gary's way of life, instead of just calling him a weirdo and running away, just like the other boys. He didn't try to change Gary; instead, he just went along with the flow.
"What's up, Ash?" The shifting sound that followed let Gary know that Ash sat up.
"I'm fine. Are you sure you have to go?" Gary felt a small twinge in his heart at his friend's plead. Ash was the only friend he had made, and no matter how much he denied it, he has become a tad bit possessive. But still, he was to go to the Viridian Academy! The most prestigious academy in the region! But still, he felt like he was letting Ash down.
But, despite the general sadness that permeated the air, Gary saw his friend perk up the way he did when he was excited. Like when Gramps decided to give them a tour at his Ranch.
"I'll see you off, then, I suppose." After a brief pause, Ash continued. "My Dad's coming home!" Well, Gramps did say that family was the most important thing in the world, so maybe that explained his friend's excitement. Gary knew he should be happy for Ash, but that did little to appease the growing void inside of him.
"We'll have so much fun! He'll take me fishing or, or maybe he'll take me on a camping trip!" Gary felt a wave of loneliness wash over him. He didn't know why; his conscience and morals told him that he should be happy for his friend, but deep inside, he just felt… nothing. He felt literally nothing; and most frighteningly, the feeling was almost… familiar, yes, familiar. So, giving a weak smile, Gary sat up in deep thought.
"Hey look, that cloud is like an Arcanine!" Gary looked up at the cloud that Ash was pointing at. Wait a second, that's not an Arcanine; it's more like a, a, Mightyena or something. Yes, a Mightyena.
"That's more like a Mightyena." Gary blinked in surprise; why did he sound so skeptical? It was almost…
"Nah, I still think it's an Arcanine. See the bushy tail?" Gary sighed in relief; it seemed like Ash didn't take offence to that. Or he was distracted, Gary couldn't tell which. And, for a second, it almost seemed like an Arcanine. But, a light breeze flew by, and it once again became a Mightyena.
"Come on, Ashy, stand still, let me get your hair done…" Ash didn't know why Mom was so fussy about his look; it's just his father coming home. Speaking of whom, Ash's thoughts were once again filled with all of the things he had seen fathers and sons do in those old movies. Maybe they'll play baseball, perhaps they'll go hiking… A painful yank elicited an indignant yip from him, making him glare at his mother. Damn, his hair! Ash sighed as Mom shot him a sheepish smile; mothers!
Rolling his eyes, Ash let his thoughts drift back to his father; would he look just like him? Ash pictured a tall, tall man. Oh and strong too, and cool, and, and, he would play with him, and they would go and do all sorts of interesting things…
Ding Dong! Ash was snapped back to reality by the bell ringing; glancing to the side, Ash saw his mother rush down, running to the door. Ash grinned widely in excitement; he was finally going to meet his father!
Connor stood in front of a small modest house. Nodding in gratitude at his loyal Pidgeot, Connor recalled the avian back to its Pokeball. Turning back to the house, Connor let his memories overflow. He could almost see Delia happy face, as she sang in delight at the two of them finally having a place to call their own… Shaking his head loose of those unnecessary thoughts, Connor took a step toward the house.
No, he couldn't do it, could he? How would Delia react? Would she welcome him back with open arms, or would she spew all the venom she could have gathered over the years at him? Sure, she sounded like she was happy to see him again, but he knew she could have easily faked it. Hell, her voice was clearer than the cleanest, purest mountain brook; he had no doubt she could have become a famous singer had they not met! But, after all, he did return to the RTF (Ranger Task Force) a few days before she gave birth to their son, so he wouldn't be surprised if she despised him for that.
And speaking of whom, Connor was genuinely curious about his son. "The one that you'd abandoned four years ago", the voice inside his head whispered. "You left him then; how can he know you won't leave him now?" Connor did his best to ignore it, but soon it became too much. Connor punched the wall in frustration, and, to his horror, he hit the doorbell. He felt his blood freeze; he wasn't ready for this! What should he do? Wait, there are some bushes; perhaps he could hide there? But the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps told him that it was too late. So, steeling himself for the evening to come, Connor adjusted his hat, before the door opened.
"Hello darling!" Right in front of him stood Delia. She was still as beautiful as ever… Connor did his best to smile, but his guilt was slowly chipping at whatever confidence he had left. Suddenly, he found himself in a tight embrace.
"Oh honey, I've missed you so much!" Connor didn't know what to do. Has she forgiven him? He found the embrace highly uncomfortable; years of serving under General Falcon has taught him that such gestures of affection were pointless; after all, you didn't need intimate contact to show your love. But Connor couldn't find it in himself to push Delia away; so, he just stood there, taking in her familiar scent.
"Ew!" Connor spotted a little boy, no more than 4 years old. His face was shaped like an inverted triangle, his cheeks full of baby fat. The forehead jutted out in an almost regale angle, the chin was jutted slightly up, his hair was an untamed spiky mess; the little boy's face practically reeked of stubbornness. And the chocolate brown eyes, the slightly elongated eyelashes… Connor didn't know why, but he just had that strange, yet somewhat warm urge; what was going on?
Hearing the sound, Delia turned around. Spotting her son, she exclaimed in happiness. "Hey, Ashy, say 'hi' to daddy!"
Connor found the corners of his lips lift when he saw the little boy- no, his son, roll his eyes. The emotions he was feeling… They seemed almost… alien to him; yet he also found them warm and comforting. It was strange, mysterious… Yet, it was also strangely satisfying; Connor couldn't identify his emotions; after years of self-disciplining and soul searching, Connor couldn't identify his emotions. It was strange…
"Mr., are you really my father?" Connor looked back at his son…
"Mr., are you really my father?" Ash knew the answer, but he still couldn't believe it. His father, the man who's been missing in his life, the one who he had only seen in photos, was here, standing in front of him. His father was here!
"Yes son, yes I am." Ash didn't know what happened, but he soon found himself in his father's arms, easily lifted. Wow! He was so strong! Hey! He could see the balconies from here!
"I can see that balcony!" Ash shouted happily. Never before had he been so high up! Hearing an amused giggle, Ash turned around.
"Mom, stop embarrassing me!" All of the sudden, a thought conceived itself in his head. Turning to his newfound father, Ash pouted, pointing a finger at his mother.
"Dad! She's always embarrassing me!" Ash whined, much to Delia's amusement. "Can you please get her to stop?"
A few moments passed, with Connor doing nothing, Ash shouted out "But it's true!" The little boy pouted further as he was put down, his feet touching the ground in obvious disappointment. Ash turned his head high up, making Delia laugh. However, what the little boy didn't notice, than it was Connor's face darkening. Connor straightened up, walking into the house.
""What's with him, Mom?" Ash was slightly worried; did his father not like him? Would he go away again?
"He's just tired, darling. He'll play with you tomorrow." At that, Ash jumped up in excitement, running to his room, the loud sound of footsteps resounding through the house. Delia smiled; little children were always so funny!
"Now, now, Mr. President; you know what will happen if you do not… cooperate with us." The small office room was eerily dark, the metal curtains covered the window, shutting away all but a few tiny rays of light. Ironic if you think of it from a certain point of view.
A short, bald man, known to the public as President Edward Ippana, was sweating furiously. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he held his breath, making the sound of his thumping heart- a sign of fear- clearly audible. He knew what he was asked to do was wrong, but…
"So what do you say, Mr. President." His… interlocutor, sat up a little bit straighter, looking straight into the poor helpless President's eyes. Edward found the scrutiny highly uncomfortable; the man sitting opposite to him was well known in the social elite by his careful political manipulation. He knew what he wanted, he knew who could get him what he wanted, and he had the force to get what he wanted. Nothing was outside of his grasp; power, money… even the support of at least a third of the Army, and its elite parts at that! Some said it was because of his high position in the government, others attributed it to his cold, calculating mind that seemed to always remain at least ten steps ahead of his opponents. Edward, from his numerous dealings with the man, attributed it to his gaze; the sharp, raptor-like stare always gave the impression that the man was tearing through layer after layer that your mind has put up. And he wasn't even a psychic!
"I- I need a few mo- more years. The military is still unprepared for an operation of such a scale." Damn it! Edward cursed internally as he stuttered; he couldn't show that he was intimidated. But those eyes, burning deep into his soul… The mysterious man kept up the scrutinizing stare for a few more moments, before lighting up a cigar. Exhaling a stream of smoke at Edward, he suddenly grabbed a carefully concealed dagger and pressed it to Edward's throat.
Edward instinctively moved back, his eyes widening when he felt the cold hard blade touch his neck. This was the first time that he was being threatened with a weapon directly; his entire life flashed before his eyes as he felt more pressure being applied on the steel. What would his wife think? Would she weep for him for the rest of her days, or would she casually move on as if he had never even existed? How would his old parents cope without him?
To his surprise, Edward found his opponent withdrawing the weapon, amusement clear in his tormentor's eyes. Letting go of the breath he had been subconsciously holding, Edward gingerly touched his neck. The skin underneath the blade was more raw and delicate, but it wasn't a deep wound, Sighing in relief, Edward turned to his tormentor, only to find him gone. In his place was a note consisting of two words. However, those two words were more than enough to send chills down the president's spine. The two words were 'Tempus fugit.'
Connor sat at the table, looking on in disgust as his son scarfed down the food like a hog. His wife's cooking skills were the best; but just seeing the eating manners- or, in this case, the lack of thereof, killed his appetite.
Delia, being a keen woman, immediately realized that something was off about him. "Aren't you hungry, dear?"
Leaning to his wife, Connor carefully whispered, his gaze fixed on the lantern hanging from the ceiling in order to not see the 'Snorlax' of the table. "Didn't you teach him proper table manners?"
To that, Delia merely giggled, covering her mouth with a hand. "Of course I have. But no matter how much he tries, he just can't eat with proper manners! And besides, that's adorable!"
Connor frowned. Of course, he knew that he couldn't expect a 4 years old child to have perfect military discipline; but he couldn't help but feel appalled by his son- no, Ash's behavior. Connor vividly remembered his father raising him in a household with strict rules and regulations. When he was a child, he, of course, hated all those 'stupid' rules. But when he grew up, he realized their importance. And to this very day, Connor was deeply grateful to his deceased father for instilling the strong sense of honour and duty into him. And the little brat sitting in front of him was, as of that moment, unfit to be called a man. Connor knew he needed to take drastic actions, lest his son grew up just those soft, pathetic excuses for young defenders of the land of their ancestors; the embodiments of all the terrible sins commonly used by Ancient Selennic writers.
"Ash, son, eat more slowly; you're not a Snorlax that's just come out of hibernation." At that, Ash lifted his little head, cocking it in confusion. Connor once again felt the small urge from before, but he ignored it.
"It's not polite, son. Do you want to go outside and have people whisper about you from behind your back?" Connor slapped himself mentally; he'd have to use more primitive words next time.
But, to his surprise, his little son shook his head. "They say all sorts of things about me already, so what's the point?" Connor felt his eyes widen in surprise, but he closed them. What's been happening in the town during his absence?
"Alright then, do you want other people to whisper nasty things about us, your parents?" To his further surprise, Ash once again rolled his eyes.
"They already do that as well." Connor felt a surge of anger within him; how dare they? Opening his mouth to ask further questions about it, a polite cough interrupted him. Turning to the side, Connor saw Delia look at him disapprovingly.
"Ok then, let's play a game, okay?" Connor couldn't believe himself; what was he doing? However, seeing Ash nod in excitement, he knew there was no turning back.
"If you eat normally, and by that I mean chewing slowly, and just taking time to enjoy your meal, I'll give you a piece of candy." Seeing his son's eyes sparkle in delight at the mention of the Holy Grail of all children, Connor shook his head in slight annoyance; he needed to… rehabilitate his son, so to speak. Already, memories of his childhood rushed back to him.
"Daddy, look, I'm juggling!" A small boy the age of 5 stood, his brows furrowed in concentration as he juggled two balls. A few weeks ago, his Father had finally taken him to the circus; all the clowns, and the dragon-tamers… Oh and the Pokemon too! There were Pyroar, and Ninetail, and Seel… there was even a Dragonite and Popplio! The adorable little water-type was so funny! And best of all, it could juggle! It had taken Connor 3 weeks to master this, but he'd finally managed to juggle the little golf balls!
His father on the other hand, didn't share the same excitement.
"Do not waste time on such silliness. You'd be better off doing Mathematics." Connor couldn't believe it; yet again, his father just waved off all of his efforts like they were nothing! No matter what he did, no matter how much he tried, his father would just wave it off! Connor felt himself shaking with anger, his nails digging into his palm, forming a punch. Connor just wanted to tell his father how he felt, he just wanted some form of acknowledgement… But all of those rebellious thoughts melted away under his father's strict stare.
Connor sat in meditation, looking at the moon. He didn't know what to do; he wanted to make his son a man; a true man, ready to protect his homeland. But at the same time, he didn't want to become the strict tyrant that his own father was.
What should he do? Connor didn't know what to do; and the inability to decide was torturing him. So, he asked the only question he could; what would the old General do? The answer seemed so obvious, yet… Could he do it? Connor, for all of his courage on the mountains and in the forests, for all his strengths and discipline, was unsure of what to do. The pressure was just too much.
But then, almost as if some higher force decided to help him, a new thought appeared in his head; how would HE bring up his son? Not his father, not general Falcon, but what would he do?
Yay! It was a brand new day! Ash loved mornings- the funny colours of the sky during sunrise, the lovely chirp of Pidgeys… It was all so wonderful! Had he been a female lead in a movie, he would have broken into a song, but fortunately, it was not the case. So, springing up from his bed with enough enthusiasm to bring a smile to even the most cold-hearted people, Little Ash ran to the bathroom to wash up.
Meanwhile, down in the living room, Connor and Delia were drinking coffee, stealing glances at each other like awkward love-struck teenagers. And what made the situation even more embarrassing, to Connor at least, were the thoughts that roamed his head. Although he tried to focus on the article about the new tax laws, Connor's eyes would subconsciously drift to Delia, to her lovely, heart-shaped face, her beautiful, hazel-colour eyes, her thin, curvy- wait, that's enough. Connor shook his head; he needed something to distract him.
"So," Connor said in an attempt to break the awkward silence, "how's Professor Oak?"
At that, Delia brightened up immediately, averting her gaze from the thin, yet barely noticeable scar on her lover's cheek to meet his eyes, his sharp, piercing timber-wolf eyes… Wait, she couldn't get distracted now.
"Oh, Samuel? He's fine! Well, he still makes a big mess after his tests, but he's fine!" Delia laughed lightly, waving her hand in a lady-like manner. She didn't know why, but when he was next to her, she almost felt like a fragile flower, carefully tended to.
Connor usually frowned when such a great man as Professor Oak was referred to by anything other than his title; after all, a man should be remembered by what he contributed to society. But Connor just couldn't get mad at Delia; with her wide eyes and sleek eyebrows, she was almost the picture of innocence. But most importantly, every time she was near him, his heart beat just a little faster, everything seemed just a little brighter and everyone seemed just a little kinder. He couldn't understand that strange, warm and fuzzy feeling; it was almost familiar, he could almost tell what that emotion was. Yet, at the same time, it also felt strange.
After another awkward silence, Connor once again tried to break it. "So, how are his grandchildren?"
"Oh, well Daisy went to study abroad. That girl, I wouldn't be surprised if she came back with a Red Diploma!" Delia waved her hand over her mouth courtly, laughing inwardly. More like a boyfriend along with a Red Diploma! That girl was always so smart! She pretty much had all the boys of Pallet wrapped around her tricky little fingers. Poor Kalosians…
"And, what about Gary?" Connor didn't know what was going on in her head, but if the mischievous glint in her eyes was to say anything, than she found it funny. Oh and the way her thighs rubbed together, her lovely- wait, that came out wrong.
"Oh, well he's best friend with Ash. The boys are practically inseparable!" Well, at least his son still had friends…
"Where is he?" Gary muttered, pacing around his backyard. Normally Ash was the one waiting for him, not, well, this! But it probably didn't mean anything, right? He was probably just late, or, or catching up with his father, right? There was no need to worry, no, none at all. Gary stopped in his tracks as it suddenly dawned on him. What if Ash didn't need him anymore? After all, he did have his father now, right? After all, surely his friend would want to spend one more day with him before they parted, even if it was just for a year, right? Right?
Gary shook his head. No, he was probably late, that's all. Yes, perhaps Ash was being fashionably late…
Several months- check that, a year later, Connor found himself sat on a chair outside the room in which Delia was giving birth; the Asahian religion strictly forbid anyone being in the same room as the mother when she gave birth, with the exception of a person, in this case, Professor Oak, whose task was to deliver the child. While he wasn't a particularly religious or superstitious person, and neither was his wife, but the town seemed to believe that any child who was born under the presence of anyone else was cursed, and would bring a heap of trouble to the town. Such a silly tradition! His wife was screaming in pain in the next room, and he couldn't be there to help her!
Feeling something tug his legs, Connor looked down and spotted his faithful Espeon, the same one that was given to him as a present on their first wedding anniversary. Nuzzling him in an attempt to comfort him, Espeon purred reassuringly, almost as if she was trying to calm him down. Yes, she was right, worrying wouldn't fix anything. But still…
Connor suddenly found a picture of a can of Pokechow fleeting through his mind. Looking down, he saw the Espeon faking ignorance. Damn it, she was doing it again! For a Pokemon, she sure was smart…
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AN: No, I'm not dead. Yes, I should probably be ashamed of myself. But having a writer's block and a crap tonn of homework can hamper the most enthusiastic writers. Not that I m one, anyways. :P
But anyways, I have the second chapter nearly completed and, if i don't forget about it, the I should post it on Sunday. But for now, enjoy the edited version that doesn't screw over Gary's personality.