oh man oh man let's do this kids. The great Listen To The Whispers rewrite of 2k14. should have 3 chapters up tonight. i hop you all approve of my redos. concrit's absolutely accepted, especially on characterization.

also, please imagine riley with cute painted fingernails. that is like my favourite riley appearance headcanon of all time, its from some artist on pixiv and it just makes me happy. theyre painted turquoise.

okay, enough of my rambling, on with the show

Riley hasn't been sleeping well. For the past couple of weeks, he's been having incessant nightmares. They hardly started off as bad, just the occasional dream that left a bad taste in his mouth when he awoke, but it steadily progressed, leaving him tired and in poor moods in mornings. It's come to the point where his pokemon have noticed, Lucario especially. She frets over him endlessly, communicates his aura is off. The aura of the island is off. A black mold is eating at the edges.

Lucario argues and tells him to go somewhere else, but Riley doesn't listen. He can't leave the island. It's his job to stay with it, to protect it. If something's wrong, he shouldn't run if he's not at risk of something serious.

And nightmares are hardly a risk. Just some sort of blip in normality that likely meant nothing. Just a coincidence.

When Lucario worries over him too much, the trainer puts her back in her pokeball, and she's figured out by now that he doesn't wish to speak about it. She'll still stand over him as he sleeps and threatens the shadows that dare try and approach her beloved trainer, though. Riley cannot stop her from doing that.

Riley's too busy sleeping.

He stands still, tapped in some large black void. It's not groundless, there is something beneath his feet that feels reminiscent of wet soil when he steps. He can see nothing except himself, and he is dressed in a suit. One he does not own, and he seems fit for a funeral aide from the bright red tie like the aftermath of a cut throat around his neck.

Riley takes a second to wonder where the morbid feeling came from. He does not generally think like that.

Something pressed him onward, and he steps through the void, turning when he feels he should, until he happens upon a room, simply hanging in the darkness. Riley steps over the threshold, where the final wall should be, and a full house blossoms around him. The house is, for the most part, bare. There's a rug and some chairs in this room, but they all seem plain and unused. Like they were temporarily borrowed for the sake of having something look normal. Sitting in one of the chairs in one of the most relaxed postures Riley has ever seen him, is Steven.

Hello, Mr. Stone. What are you doing here.

Riley opens his mouth to speak, and nothing comes out. He feels slightly ill, like he does when there's a crowd of people around him and he can't turn off the aura sensing. The only person here is Steven, and try as he might, Riley can sense nothing from Steven. It's like he's been cut off. The former Champion raises a hand and makes the quick gesture of a cut throat. "Really is such a shame."

Abruptly, Riley realizes that nothing has made noise until Steven opened his mouth. Not even footsteps. "But," Steven continues, after a short pause. He fiddles with one of his rings, though otherwise Steven seems entirely uncaring. "You'll have to go. Nothing I can do about it, it seems." He gestures again, this time shooing Riley away.

Entirely on instinct and in an act of desperation, Riley practically lunges forward, trying to grasp Steven's hand. Please, help me. Hold onto me. Don't let me die.

Riley's hands close on air, and this time as the void reopens beneath him, there is nothing. No ground, and the walls and ceiling of the house quickly fade to black until the only thing remaining is Steven, staring cooly at him from his chair as Riley plunges downward into void.

Riley does not wake quickly, like in movies. He wakes slowly, and in the time somewhere between sleep and when his eyes open, something that feels unspeakably old and unspeakably tired touches his closed eyes and whispers an apology in a language Riley does not understand.

It didn't mean to do this.

It did not anticipate these effects.

It is so very sorry, child.

Riley wakes up.

He gets out of bed, careful not to disturb the Lucario and Rilou that have taken residence curled next to him. There's a red glow from the corner of his vision, and from some part of him still dreaming, he turns quickly, staring. Something large, taller than him and it wants rest too. The red does not glow but something else does, lines of ice blue reflecting off of scarlet ridges-

Riley shakes his head and realizes he's simply staring at the LED of his alarm clock.

The red numbers no longer stir memories of things he has never seen. They just tell the trainer that it is currently 6:48 A.M.. He stares until the number switches to 6:49. Riley doesn't feel as if he's slept at all. He's exhausted, but going back to sleep would put him at risk for once again waking up in a cold sweat with the feeling of fear and panic stuck to him like a cloak.

He can never recall the dreams in full, and this time he just gets the image of being stared at without compassion by someone he knows well but cannot remember. Just that's enough to keep a disconcerted feeling around him. Riley sighs, scrubbing at his eyes, and looks over at the pair of pokemon curled on his bed. The Riolu seems fine, but Lucario is curled around it protectively and her hackles are half-raised, as if something happened a few minutes ago that angered her. Riley reaches over, gently petting the Lucario. She seems to calm. At least one of their problems is easy to fix, and that makes Riley smile slightly.

He stands and sets off to the kitchen. May as well start the day.

Lucario complains to him when she wakes later and finds her trainer sitting on a couch, still half dressed and staring blankly at a wall. You're sick, she argues, and Riley can hear her if he concentrates on reading the aura.

"I am not."

You are. A sick that's in your sleep. You got infected. You need a break.

"Hush, that's nonsense." Riley yawns widely, jaw cracking behind the palm covering it. "All it is is the occasional nightmare. Nothing's wrong with me, and if there is- which I'm not agreeing to- I'll get over it. Doesn't one always get over a sickness?"

Lucario chuffs in displeasure and glares at him. You know this is something you cannot get over so easily.

Riley stands and waves his hand dismissively. "You have no faith in me. Besides, I'm having a guest over in. Tomorrow? Yeah, tomorrow. It's rude to cancel something that's been planned for ages just because some guy can't get his sleep schedule worked out, right?" He grins toothily at his Pokemon, having difficulty enough in making even a mildly convincing expression. She's not buying it, and she just shakes her head and abruptly shuts of her verbal communication with him.

Ah well.

Can't win every fight, now can he.

Riley doesn't let himself concentrate too hard on his Lucario's mothering, instead preferring to make himself busy turning the Iron Island cabin into some place that looks remotely presentable instead of a dusty pile of wood that some weird guy has been living in alone for years. That's a much easer course of action, and it keeps him busy until late in the night. He doesn't even notice when he crashes and falls asleep.

This time he is just falling. Falling and falling and falling and he can find nothing to catch himself on. He thinks he's crying.