ARCTIC
Throughout his childhood, Giovanni said he was number one in all the regions. Even as his father turned his back on him for the last time, Silver still wanted to believe that.
The Dragon's Den is the only decent refuge from Johto's summer heat. Silver escapes the humidity by training deep in the caves until the sun sets, and then he escapes the caves by sleeping in the Pokemon Center. The cycle starts all over when the sun rises, and he returns to the caves to train in the same spot, surrounded by the same dragon Trainers calling the same moves to their Pokemon. The rocks are sharp and the resident Magikarp are endlessly irritating, but there's no better place for Silver to sit down and reflect on what he's supposed to do with himself now.
Gone are the days of disingenuous praise and being spoken down to while rows of black-clad pawns look up to him. The Den's walls are tight and prickly, but honest when he touches them.
Lance's own honesty is the hardest to chew when he receives it, but Silver is getting better. He knows he's better than he used to be, both as a Trainer and something more that he can't quite pinpoint. He thinks it must be that the word heir no longer bears any weight on him.
It's a relief he's always wanted to have, but something about it still grinds his teeth.
Lance observes the strength of Crobat's wings as the creature flaps tempestuous waves across the Den's lake. Silver can't imagine why a former Champion bothers to waste his time here with the same Trainers groveling at his feet, or why he bothers to waste time checking on Silver no matter how tight his schedule is.
Silver hates feeling indebted, so he encourages his team to give the best performance they've got.
"Your Pokemon are growing well," Lance comments when Crobat finishes. "I mean it. They've never looked greater."
Silver knows that not too long ago, he would have said his team could have done far better. Not too long ago, nothing was ever deemed good enough.
He busies himself with a berry pouch to find Crobat's favorite flavor and says nothing. Lance wastes more time just standing there and observing.
Finally, Silver cracks. "What?"
"You don't have to stay down here forever." Lance looks over his shoulder towards the other Trainers, who remain rooted to their usual spots.
Silver turns away and digs into the berry pouch harder. "It's not blistering hot down here."
He's not old in the least but he starts feeling like it when he begins to question what he's doing with his life.
Silver tosses and turns on the Pokemon Center's couch more and more each night and despises every minute of it. The couch feels more like the Den's constricting walls and long intervals of sleep are replaced by fitful waves of dreams. They aren't even actual dreams, with no fantastical imagery or bizarre narratives, but merely reflections of the things he's done and the places he's been. Hallways made of machinery, cries of Pokemon as whips licked their backs, and stark red lettering blinding him wherever he looked.
He's getting desperate enough to the point of considering returning Ethan's and Lyra's phone calls, and maybe taking them up on their offers of surfing around Olivine or picking Apricorns near Violet. Silver ignores it every time because surely Ethan has more important Champion-related matters to attend to and surely Lyra shouldn't be encouraging him.
Surely they realize through their thick, overexcited skulls that Silver's busy and trying to reshape everything he was brought up to be.
He rolls over and picks up his pokegear from the Center's floor. There are no new text messages but he flips through older ones, deleting each one slowly to pass the time.
Hey, Silver! You're not still hanging around in Blackthorn, are you? The weather's perfect for the Olivine beaches! What do you say?
Ethan and I are getting our Pokemon haircuts in Goldenrod today. You should come with us! Text me when you're there!
We're thinking of catching the train to Kanto tomorrow. You game?
His fingers pause on the last one, listed as an unknown number in an unlisted region from nearly a year ago.
We've gone into hiding and have scattered just to be safe. I swear I won't rest until he's found. I will find you again as soon as I can.
Silver drops the pokegear back to the floor, almost wishing it would snap and break.
Talk of Team Rocket becomes barely a whisper as it did long after his father left him behind. People begin to brush over their actions like an inconsequential event from the past: holding officials hostage, abandoning angered Gyarados in the wild, slicing off Slowpoke tails like a rare delicacy. They brush it off so easily and return to the lives they've always had.
Silver cements himself to his spot in the Dragon's Den and desperately reads the newspaper when the other Trainers pass it over. Once in a while there's a small article about someone posing as Team Rocket, or an editorial on how justice and peace and other nonsense in their modern times have fully squashed out any criminal gangs from rising again.
Silver crumples up the paper when he's finished. The noise doesn't bring him the satisfying closure he's looking for.
Lance unsubtly hints again that he should move his training to new horizons.
Silver kicks at the Den's floor, making deep marks in the dirt where he stands.
For all the ignoring he does to Ethan and Lyra, he knows that being ignored is an awful experience. Excuses were plentiful with his father; he was a busy man, after all, and in too many dangerous places for Team Rocket's heir to follow. The Grunts brushed off his behavior as childish but whined like toddlers whenever they were tasked with watching him. The Admins found him boring and nothing could hope to establish any sort of bond with Ariana from the start. Silver never thought of her as a mother, though it's not a subject that keeps him up at night.
It's that vile man who makes him jolt awake in feverish sweats; a man more manipulative than that fool Petrel and with a longer crime record than Proton; a man who also believed Giovanni was number one, and the only man who ever bothered to sit with Silver and listen to whatever the boy had to say.
He needs to get out of here.
Silver's looking at brochures for Hoenn when the Center's television blares with breaking news. People in the room start blabbering loudly enough to almost drown out the newscast, but Silver manages to catch it all as it buzzes though his head.
"After a year of false trails and seemingly hopeless leads, Kanto and Johto special police have tracked down a hideout outside of Pewter City housing three of the five Team Rocket leaders currently being sought by authorities. Despite disbanding twice, police are still searching for previous members to charge them for crimes committed during Team Rocket's active years. Executives Ariana, Petrel, and Proton were arrested, along with five others who are believed to be lower-ranking members. Officials declined to elaborate on how the arrests were made until charges have been officially filed. Still at large are Giovanni, the original leader who has been missing for four years, and Executive Archer, who is believed to have led Team Rocket after Giovanni and initiated the takeover of Goldenrod City's radio tower."
Nurses and Trainers gasp and chatter to each other in nostalgic awe. Silver crumples the brochure and escapes out the door.
He resorts to buying his own newspapers to avoid waiting for the dragon Trainers to finish reading. The news stays on in the Pokemon Center throughout the night, churning out the same information already listed in the morning papers. He finally snaps over the firm couches and rents a cheap hotel room for a couple nights that includes a free paper in the morning. He's saved just enough to last there for a bit, but it's not enough to leave the city and properly relocate.
The bed is far more comfortable, but Silver still twists and turns until the sun rises and the paper arrives at the front desk. Like the rest of the public, he just needs to know.
It is now known that officials tracked evidence to Pewter City following reports of suspicious activity and stolen valuables, including Pokemon. They believe the Team Rocket members went through Viridian forest to help cover their trail, though it seems that the members have only been at the hideout for a short time, possibly as a stopover before moving to a new location. Police raided the small house and three officers were killed by the Executives before being captured. Neither of the three Executives have given any information about the whereabouts of the last Executive or Giovanni, and police are unsure if they were ever at the hideout. There are few resources to describe Executive Archer, but former hostages like the radio tower's director say he has blue hair and blue eyes.
Silver checks out of the hotel and escapes to the Dragon's Den, where the cool air bites at his fingertips.
It's only a matter of time, but perhaps he doesn't have to face it if he stays below the sun-scorched surface.
Silver dreams best when he's in a restless sleep. The sheets constrict his twisting body as his dreams give him nothing new or different - only rehashed and reconstructed visions from his upbringing. There were so many chances to call out his father, to call out the entire core of Team Rocket as they carelessly wandered through Saffron City and the game corners. His dreams remind him constantly that he never did.
Deep in his visions, he observes the few times he stayed in his father's office. The lighting was gentle and the air was always cool, with an aromatic hint of his father's cigarettes. Sometimes they spoke, but Silver spent most of his time on the couch flipping through books as his father worked. He didn't mind the silence. He knew his father would look up from his desk every so often and watch him with a soft expression.
In this dream, he remembers seeing one of their usual visitors. They conversed in hushed tones but Silver remembers hearing it all. It made his heart race.
"The game corner will open tomorrow for business. Let's wait a few months before moving any operations to the basements, though."
"Understood, sir."
"And, as usual, should we need to abandon it..."
"I will go with Silver and follow his lead, as you ordered. I will become his and his alone."
He thinks his father mentioned something in response, but that hardly mattered - Giovanni's words made him feel like he finally owned something in the entire rotten operation.
Gengar bounces around in glee as they take a rare walk just south of Blackthorn. It's a pleasant break from the stuffy cave as its Trainers breathe in the same recycled air each day. Silver only just now notices how dramatic the difference is, and takes a moment to fill his lungs with fresh mountain air.
What little change he has rattles in his pockets. It'd be easy to battle weaker Trainers for extra cash, but it almost feels insulting. Battling the Den's Trainers has already taught him as much as they can offer to teach.
Silver nearly jumps out of his skin when Gengar's grinning face floods his vision. His team is displaying more forward affection and he's yet to get used to it. The ghost speaks in his native gibberish and Silver struggles to translate a language he's just now learning.
It's simple enough, if only because Silver predicted what the ghost was going to say. We're being followed.
The setting sun burns at his cheeks.
Silver waits by a cleared section of tall grass and watches hikers trek back to Blackthorn for the night. No one gives him a glance and no one notices the faces Gengar gives to their backs. Sweat cools uncomfortably on the back of Silver's neck. He knows it's stupid to wear long clothing during the summer, but he doesn't want to add heavy clothing to his bag in case he needs to travel. It's how he reasoned it when he came to Blackthorn a year ago.
Gengar settles beside him and points towards the trees. Silver forces himself up and gulps down the mountain air.
Despite the open terrain and lack of rocky walls, Archer hides himself between the trees, shadowed by his black clothing and looking perfectly composed.
Through the growing darkness, Silver sees things he hasn't seen in years - dirt smudged over Archer's hands, hair out of place, and no burning red insignia over his heart, though he suspects it's stashed somewhere on his body. Archer would never abandon his Rocket symbol, even in defeat, even with his Executives in prison, even with how much it irritates the hell out of Silver and he knows it.
Archer has no one left, but Silver can't say he doesn't understand.
"You deserved it all," he hisses.
Archer smiles and picks a bit of dirt off a fingernail. "You haven't changed a bit."
Archer comes with the clothes on his back, Houndoom's pokeball on his belt, and a suitcase full of money. Silver wants to hit him across the head with it, but resorts to taking a few notes and renting one of Blackthorn's priciest hotel rooms for the night. Archer sneaks in by putting on a fedora and slipping by the front desk like a cold phantom. It's so obvious to Silver but they're perfectly ignored as they pass by the guests to the elevators. Chatter about Team Rocket has died down once again, at least until the trials start.
Silver wonders about the possible charges they'll list for the Executives, and if they even know half of them.
In the spacious room, Silver keeps eying the phone. Emergency numbers are listed on the machine, with the police outlined in stark red.
When he looks up, Archer is smiling at him again.
"How'd you get here?" Silver asks, taking his mind off the phone.
"Walked." Archer wipes dirt off his face with a wet washcloth. "I had to go slightly off-route to avoid people. It seems we've stirred a lot of activity around here."
"A lot," Silver repeats. "A lot! You're still such an idiot! Your friends will probably be in jail forever. You should've been caught with the rest of them."
"I know." Archer drops the cloth and Silver freezes up mid-rant. "I might have considered it if I were in the hideout at the time. I was in Pewter City to collect our remaining hidden funds."
He looks to the suitcase, stocked to the brim with perfect stacks of pokedollars. "Ariana wanted to go with me, but I told her she'd be safer in that house."
"You should have still been caught." Silver kicks the carpet with his heel, but makes no mark in it.
"Possibly." Archer laces his fingers. "But I'd hate to disobey the most important order your father gave me."
His dreams that night take him back to when he was eight and Giovanni earned the title of Viridian Gym Leader. Team Rocket cheered at how ignorant the League was, their voices bellowing through Silver's head as he sleeps.
Despite the dream, he already knows how it all happened. Giovanni patted him on the head and passed over the pokeball of his prized Nidoking for Silver to hold. It was the first time Silver was allowed to hold one, and he smeared his fingerprints all over it in shocked excitement.
"It looks like I'm a Gym Leader now, Silver," his father told him. "And the number one Gym Leader at that."
Silver jolts awake before he gets to the part where he believes his father.
Archer won't leave him, only because his father once ordered him to. Nothing would tear his loyalty to Team Rocket, but should things go amiss, Giovanni told him to take Silver and abandon anything he'd ever known in his life. Should Silver lose everything else, Archer would do so equally, and at least they would have each other if they needed to escape, bound by nothing.
Now they have to look for ways to survive beyond Giovanni, to break beyond what they were nurtured to be and beyond the purpose they were told to follow infinitely.
When Silver wakes, he sees Archer at the window, carefully peeking through the curtains. Blackthorn is cold and quiet in the early morning as thin streaks of sunlight burn over the mountain range.
"Someone's going to see you."
"People look over everything here." Archer closes the curtain and blocks off the sunlight. "Good morning, Silver."
"Shut up." Silver rolls over and twists the sheets around his torso. "Shut up already."
Archer was the only one to ever greet him in the morning during his childhood at Team Rocket's headquarters. He supposes his father did, too, in the rare mornings they had together, but he remembers Archer first. It's always Archer first; that's never changed and Silver can't stand how predictable it is. Archer hasn't learned a thing from being on the run and from his teammates being imprisoned for life.
Lost in his thoughts, Silver realizes he's heading for the Dragon's Den instead of the market. He kicks the dirt with his heel and spins right back around, stuffing his hands in his pockets and crumpling wads of pokedollars in them.
An hour later, Archer dunks his head under the tub faucet and threads his fingers through matted hair. Smoky black water splashes down and stains the tub in inky droplets. He stays in place until the water runs clean and his fingers show a dark tint.
He doesn't pause to spend a moment looking in the mirror when he steps out of the tub. Silver watches from the corner, almost fascinated as Archer moves to the eyebrow tint and starts on it without hesitation. Silver can't bite back his curiosity.
"You know how to put on hair dye?"
"I've watched Petrel do it several times before." Archer's hand is perfectly stable as he swipes the applicator brush over his thin eyebrows. He's careful not to press too hard to avoid getting black dye on his pale skin. "It's not too difficult."
"You'll have to do it a lot, won't you?"
"Every so often." Archer drops the brush into the sink and gazes into the mirror properly. "But I think it will grow on me."
It's fascinating how a simple color alters the shape of his face, as though he's starting anew.
They munch on market granola bars and bottled tea as they wait for Archer's hair to dry. Silver skims the morning paper and throws the front page at Archer's chest.
"Look who they're trying first."
Archer slowly unfolds the paper and glosses over the article. The story is plenty sensational to please the public's need for unfathomable horror. It's surprising they printed out the full text of Proton's plea.
The corners of Archer's lips twitch in amusement as he reads through it.
"It's like reading a cookbook's recipe," he says.
Silver tears the paper away and rips it into shreds.
Their sloppy cleanup of evidence includes wiping down the bathroom counter and ripping apart the hair dye boxes in the trash. There's little point in trying to do a proper sweep - the police already have Archer's fingerprints after he smeared them all over Goldenrod's radio microphones during his desperate call. Fortunately, horrifyingly, few are alive to describe his face in accurate detail.
Archer smashes his contacts, slips on a pair of old glasses, and exits the hotel room after Silver.
They stand outside in plain sight. A businessman walks by them without looking up from his newspaper. A couple and their child follow soon after; the child jumps around in excitement and looks up at them until her father tugs her hand and reminds that it's not polite to stare.
Archer bats at a few irritating strands of blackened hair fluttering about in the wind.
"Where to first?"
Silver thinks to himself how ridiculously calm it all is.
"Dragon's Den. Don't fall behind."
They're really testing their luck by hitting one of Johto's most iconic spots first. Silver's almost tempted to call the whole thing off when they cross the lake to the Dragon's Den. At least Archer has some common sense to duck his head and stay quiet when they pass by the Den's usual Trainers. Silver can only pray that Lance isn't around snooping about today.
"Everyone will know your voice," he suddenly realizes, hissing to Archer. "You blasted it over all the radio for an entire evening. Someone's going to remember it."
"And they should remember it," Archer responds. Silver kicks pebbles behind him, childishly hoping one of the small rocks will bounce up hit the Executive right in his forehead. Teamless, friendless, hiding from the world with dark clothes and cheap hair dye, and he doesn't show a hint of remorse between it all.
Silver's spent months in the Den and only now does the air feel too stale. Trainers' voices echo across the rocks as they bellow out the same commands to their Dragonite, standing in the same spot they claimed when they were first allowed access into the Den. Silver stops on his own spot of carved-out rock and slowly picks up a few supplies left on the floor. A few potions, dried berries, and a Dragon Fang he found poking out from the soil. There's no reason to keep it, but he can't toss one of the few things he discovered on his own. He didn't know what one looked like until he found it.
A Trainer tells its Dratini to show Dragon Rage in the distance.
"Is this all they do?" Archer comments quietly as he watches the Trainers. "You'd lose track of time staying in a cave all day."
Silver won't admit he's right. He tosses his bag at Archer and moves forward. "We're leaving."
Archer listens to his words, and they escape.
Silver pushes his luck even further by texting Lance right before they board the boat to Unova. He shuts off his pokegear the second it sends, then realizes he hasn't messaged Ethan or Lyra. It doesn't stop him from stuffing the pokegear into the deepest pocket of his bag. He'll just tell them when they arrive in Castelia next week.
The paper comes just before the boat departs Olivine. Silver grasps it tightly against the sea winds and hands it to Archer when he's finished.
"They're not taking it seriously. All of you think it's just a game, don't you?"
Archer cups his chin and scans the front page with a hint of amusement. "Petrel confessed to blowing up twenty Koffing to destroy half of Lavender's power plant? Why, I think I'm getting nostalgic."
Silver throws the paper in the sea.
It hits him right before he sleeps that this is the most travel he's ever done. Leaving headquarters to start his own Pokemon journey was a marvel in itself; for the few times he was allowed outside, it was remarkably easy to traverse Johto and do everything he liked in his own way.
Yet, he couldn't shake how so many of his ways were exactly like Team Rocket's, as his dreams feverishly remind him. Stealing Totodile from the lab was no different to a Grunt stealing a Trainer's whole team. Sneasel didn't deserve to be taken away. Golbat evolved into Crobat, but that didn't excuse the time Silver grabbed his wings and dragged him down to a level lower than himself.
The Dragon's Den never made him feel guilty. For the first time in his life, Silver wakes up aching for a home he never had.
They make the week past faster by challenging fellow Trainers on the decks. Many share the desire to explore beyond their boundaries and start a new journey. Silver ignores their idle chat and accepts his prize money.
Archer stands nearby the entire time, as by Silver's orders. He never looks bored while observing the battles, though when he's not specifically watching, Silver sometimes catches him gazing at the ocean. Archer only lets his Houndoom out in the privacy of their room, uninterested in starting his new life by fighting more overeager hat-wearing kids. He checks on his loyal dog in odd ways, observing the jawline and drawing a finger along Houndoom's teeth. Hot steam fills the room when Silver lets Sneasel wander too close and the Pokemon exhale the same air in opposite ways.
Having Archer by his side puts him on edge. It was all he knew until he was freed when Archer took the Team and Silver left headquarters. He wonders if his father technically freed him by leaving, but with Archer's ownership ordered to him, that will never be true. Giovanni pulled all his cards to bind him from the start.
They speak little during dining hours and when walking around the deck. The silence grates his ears, but Archer never ignores his presence.
Castelia City seems impossibly big.
Silver nearly stumbles off the docks just by staring up in awe at the towering buildings. It makes Goldenrod feel like an insignificant spot on the map with miniscule impact. The city thrums with activity and his fingers twitch for all the potential he could grasp. Archer follows behind with their bags as Silver moves through the streets.
The dialect is hard to grasp but fascinating to hear. He sees food that he's only heard about in distant stories. People rush by him in a hurry without a second glance, but he doesn't mind when they occasionally bump shoulders with him. Even the alleys are bustling with action, from dance competitions to oddly decorated cafes. Skyscrapers surround him from every corner but they never squeeze him breathless.
Autumn leaves flutter around in late afternoon winds. The seasons changed without waiting for them as they crossed the sea.
Archer grabs his shoulder before another businesswoman bumps into him.
"We should find a room first before exploring too far," he says.
Silver doesn't remember how he got into the middle of this sidewalk. "Fine."
Archer comes ridiculously prepared. It's so predictable yet somehow Silver misses it coming.
In their moderately-sized room, he lays out city maps, region maps, restaurant guides, a weekly weather chart, two different local newspapers, and a Trainer's guide. Silver resists grabbing the papers first and goes for the Trainer's guide. It seems somewhat pointless to travel for another set of Gym Badges, but he's not expecting to spend his entire time pleasantly sightseeing with a wanted criminal.
Silver remembers his pokegear and pulls it out with a grimace. The device immediately buzzes with Lance's messages, followed by a flurry from Ethan and Lyra - it appears the former Champion couldn't keep his mouth shut and let Silver handle telling them first.
It feels undeserving to have every message filled to the brim with encouragements and well-wishes. He left without any warning but they're wishing him luck and a safe return.
Archer flips through one of the newspapers, eying him over the edge. "Friends of yours?"
"That's not your business." He snaps the pokegear shut.
Silver finally sees a perk to leaving Johto just by how horrified Archer looks when they enter the local Gym.
There's no doubt Unova's leaders put a little more flair into their interior decorating. Walls made of honey slide down in perfect slow globs as Silver hits the floor switches to make them move. Archer keeps checking the bottom of his shoes and maintains a healthy distance from the sticky walls, tugging at his sleeves in meager protection from stray droplets. Silver isn't sure whether the honey or the Leader's interpretation of fine art offend Archer more.
Battling in the strange new environment sends shocks of energy down his spine as Sneasel follows his commands with ease. The fight is over before he realizes it, and he nearly drops Magneton's pokeball when the Leader rushes over to shake his hand.
"An incredible battle, kid! Where did you say you were from again? I can tell your Pokemon have been with you for a long time. Oh, let's get you your Badge before I forget..."
The Leader - Burgh or whatever - rambles on further about the strength between Pokemon and people as he drops the Badge in Silver's hand. All Silver can think about is how Archer must be listening right behind him with none of the lecture getting through to his head.
They swim through a crowd of people when they leave the city, bumping into shoulders of strangers who never look back.
Revenge pleasantly comes back again when they hike north through the desert and Archer has to stop every mile to dump sand out his shoes.
Silver kicks a few grains off his recently and conveniently bought boots and stares down at the former Executive. Old twinges of arrogance build in his stomach as he smugly watches a man, who once held so much of the land in his palm, now on his knees uselessly picking out a sandstorm from his clothes.
He's better than jests and jeers, but he can't hold back this opportunity.
"Maybe you would've been better prepared if you didn't sit behind that desk all day getting other people to do your dirty work."
"Oh, Silver..." The light, laugh-like noise grates at Silver's ears. Archer looks up at him over the rim of his glasses, like he enjoys the view above him. "We both know that isn't true."
Archer's words feel like an Arbok's venomous bite when he tries to sleep. Nimbasa's streets aren't as busy as Castelia; Silver thinks the slower pace will send him into the peaceful slumber he desperately needs.
Their expensive room rented with ill-gotten money blocks out most of the amusement park noise, but whispers of distant laughter creep past the thick windows and ring through Silver's head like a haunting bell. It's nothing like the laughter that came from the basements when Proton was experimenting, or when Petrel tricked a hapless Trainer with his terrible disguises, or when Silver called Ariana his mother and she laughed in his face.
His visions twist the noise into a singular tone. He remembers laughing at that one boy when he swiped Sneasel's pokeball. He snorted when Ethan confessed he'd told Silver's name to the police. He was so frivolous, just like his father's pawns.
Archer only gently chuckled. He made Silver the most nervous compared to how the other Executives acted. Proton may have established his own cruel reputation quickly, but Archer...
"Were you in Lavender today? The radio says Pokemon were found dead in there. Tell me what you did!"
Archer huffed out a pleased noise - not a laugh, just a simple, delighted noise. There were streaks of dust on his gloves and he sat at his desk as though he hadn't sat in a while.
"I simply took care of matters myself. For Team Rocket. For profit."
He looked up at Silver and smiled. "For you."
He gets Nimbasa's Badge with just as much ease, though he blinks wearily throughout the battle. The flashing lights prick at his sleepy eyes and rattle the noise blaring in his head. The Leader feels the need to babble on as well, telling him there are people whose way of thinking is completely different to his and sometimes that may hurt him.
Silver can't believe the audacity of this region's Leaders to talk to him like this, as if they know him. He bites down the temptation to rage and accepts the Badge with a muttered thanks.
He stumbles out of the ridiculous indoor roller-coaster and meets Archer at the entrance, still there like the obedient dog he is. He holds a foreign newspaper in hand with Kanto boldly printed on the corner, and with headlines big enough for Silver to read at a distance with bleary eyes.
Fmr Rocket Exec Ariana, Archer confirmed murderers at Lavender Tower
Archer smiles at him. "Good morning, Silver."
Unova appears to have its own gang problem, though nothing in the papers about them currently share the same monstrosities that his father once praised (or, Silver suspects, they're just far more subtle about it). At least Unova's population seems to care about these Plasma thugs.
Silver breaks out of his dreams sweating and gasping for breath, with visions of Archer drinking out of a Cubone's skull flashing behind his eyes. He kicks the man awake and they trek west just as the sun begins to rise.
Tiny snowflakes dance around them and fly over the bridge to Driftveil. Only then does Silver realize time has changed, though he still feels left behind.
The next few Gyms and routes provide him a better feeling of challenge and reward. Silver deciphers just enough of Clay's bizarre accent to hear about potential plans of a region-wide tournament arena when he mentions coming from Johto. He almost thinks it might be nice to visit when he's finished in Unova.
Silver shakes his head. He doesn't know what will come when he's finished with this land.
All he knows is that Archer will continue to follow his lead, carry his bags, ensure he wakes up on time for matches, and chase an idea that serves no purpose or future. It's exactly like his days in Team Rocket, except he doesn't realize it.
Archer purchases more hair dye and touches up the roots of his thin hair in their hotel room. For a man who insists on luxury, their suitcase full of money still holds a healthy amount.
"Do you like it here?" Archer asks.
"It's fine." Silver crosses his arms and watches Archer work. "Let me guess: you'll stay here if I do, because you have to."
"And because I want to." Archer looks up at him. "Do you want me to?"
"My opinion never mattered to you."
"What you think always matters to me."
"Don't lie!" Silver grabs his arm and yanks. An angry streak of black dye smears over the bathroom sink. "You only ever listened to what my father told you, and you believed it all!"
"And you're just as guilty, Silver." Archer drops the applicator brush, splattering black droplets over the tile floor, and clings onto the front of Silver's shirt. "You believed he was number one, too. We all did. And I..."
What creeps past Archer's lips is a light, genuine laugh.
"I still do."
Silver faces Mistralton's Leader alone, though when he leaves with his new Badge, Archer is waiting outside.
The journey east is more trying with fresh clusters of snow bearing down on their shoulders. Silver almost plants his face into the snow twice, but Archer's quick reflexes grab the back of his coat every time. The dependency of the Executive's presence chokes him during his nightmares now, cheerfully taunting him with how useful a pawn Archer is. Archer is his now, they say. He can do anything he likes and Archer, by design, will enjoy it.
Silver shakes snow out of his hair, trying to catch clumps before they drip down and freeze his spine. The banks reach up and nip at his aching ankles like piercing icicles. He wonders why Archer doesn't let Houndoom out and simply melt a path for them.
The Dragon's Den never got this cold.
"It looks shallower over there, Silver." Archer pulls his feet out of the snowy depths. "Take my hand."
Silver reaches out until they connect.
They escape the banks together.
Icirrus is perfectly quiet when they arrive.
They rent a medium-rate room and Silver crashes into the bed once inside. The most he can grab is a short nap before Archer gently shakes him awake, reminding him that it's time for dinner downstairs.
Silver doesn't completely wolf down his food in overworked hunger only because Archer taught him table manners as a child. They share the same habits of slicing decent proportions, placing napkins on the lap, picking the right spoon for soup and the right fork for salads. Silver finds himself hardly caring about his upbringing right now to make an intentional mess in front of Archer just to be irritating.
They sort through the local and foreign papers in their room afterward. Archer's lips are set in a firm line as he catches up on the Executives' trials, more loaded than ever before with new accusations and sentences on top of sentences. The judge and jury apparently do not take kindly to Ariana's attitude and refusal to rat out her beloved leaders. Silver remains silent, thinking a breakthrough may finally happen.
Archer sets the newspaper down.
"They won't last the rest of their lives in prison."
"You're only just now realizing this?" Silver tears the paper away from him and inches closer. "It was going to be like this from the start. Team Rocket was never going to stay forever. You'll have to accept that someday."
"Perhaps one day." The words come too easily from Archer, but Silver almost wants to believe them anyway. "One day, for you."
Silver sleeps in and spends most of the afternoon walking outside with his Pokemon to get them accustomed with the heavy snow. Sneasel needs no weather training but he encourages his teammates to face the ice until its sharp bite gets dull. It's the first time Silver thinks that winter feels gentle.
Archer rushes back from the market with his hands shaking, but not from the cold.
When he tells Silver what he overheard inside, Silver almost tells him no. They head south anyway and link hands to scale the snowbanks.
Surely there's no such thing as a man free of believing Giovanni's word.
Silver doesn't immediately recognize the man who answers the door. With hundreds of Grunts held by his father's hand over those years, faces and ideals blur together, though he has no doubt Archer remembers every single face and vision that came through Team Rocket.
"Yes, hello! Please to visit. How I may help?"
Silver ducks his face, tempted to curse his undoubtedly familiar hair. The man keeps his eyes on Archer though, who seems frozen in the outside wind. Finally, he speaks.
"Raid on the city..."
The man's smile slowly fades, as though he's seen the impossible. Archer's hair shines an aqua tint beneath the winter moon.
"Knockout-"
"Evil tusks. Oh!" The man falls to his knees before his former superior and grabs at Archer's icy hands. "Oh, Executive, is true? My eyes almost not believe! My Executive..."
Silver's face burns against the wind. The man isn't free at all.
The wife treats them to tea and a plate of cookies before excusing herself to the baby room. An infant's soft giggles echo past the hallway as she wanders back, calling her son's name with sweet kisses blown into the air. Silver's only comfort is that Archer seems just as surprised as him.
"A family," Archer comments. He carries himself like he's ruling the world again. "I never would have expected you to settle down."
"Me not, either," the former Grunt says. "Was in Celadon waiting long time for, but decide I bye-bye a go-go back home. Lovely is my wife, and my son. Executive, forgive, please forgive-"
Archer holds his hand up, and the man goes silent. Silver squirms in his seat. "There is no longer anything to be accused of treason. Keep quiet about our visit, and you will be safe."
"Never I would tell anyone, sir. Always a Rocket, deep down..."
Silver grips his teacup and digs his teeth into his tongue.
"I hearing about trials, worry much. But Executive is safe here, and Heir, too." The man reaches across the table. Silver drops his cup with a clatter and pulls his hands away. "Heir safe here, with Executive-"
"I'm not your heir!" Rage boils out and seeps between his lips.
"But son of great Giovanni, I not forget-"
"Archer." Silver slaps a hand on the table. "Tell him I'm no longer the heir of anything. Tell him to move on!"
Archer looks as though he wants to protest, because Silver is capable of telling the Grunt himself; because accepting Silver's rejection of his potential legacy leaves a bitter taste in his mouth - but finally, just finally, it seems Archer acknowledges that no one has ever listened to such heresy from Silver since the beginning.
"He's...free from any future leadership roles," Archer answers carefully. "Right now, he's just a Trainer collecting Badges and I am his baggage handler."
It's such a low step from the throne they used to share on top of the world. At rock bottom, even the lowliest of Grunts have rebuilt themselves with a new future to nourish.
The man and Archer share a few quiet words before they leave. Silver stands outside at a distance, but the snowy wind carries over fragments of their conversation.
"Understanding, if no more Team Rocket...but other Executives, am worried for their prison. Boss would worry."
"There is only so much he and I can do when we are Kanto's and Johto's most wanted men."
"But Executive, will leave friends in prison forever?"
A strong gust drowns out Archer's voice and all other sounds.
Silver enters Icirrus' Gym feeling more rested than he has since they landed on Unova's shores. It certainly helps - Brycen's team strikes hard and Silver needs his sharpest reflexes to counter. It's too icy to resemble the Dragon's Den but the atmosphere has the same old comfort to Silver.
He can't escape the small philosophy lecture the Leader gives when the battle is over, but Silver surprises himself by actually listening this time.
"Only the weak feel the need to flaunt their strength," Brycen says, placing his Badge in Silver's hand. "It's clear your strength comes from the bond you have with your Pokemon, and from your faith in them."
"Yeah," Silver says, heart racing. "I once - when I first started, I-"
A Gym Trainer calls for Brycen, grabbing his attention. Silver gets left alone in the cold until he exits the Gym and rejoins Archer outside.
"How many more?"
"What?"
"How many more Badges are left to collect?"
The bridge is so calm that sounds pass by Silver so easily. He pushes away from the railing and opens his case. "Three. It might've been more convenient if I started east then backtracked."
"We'll circle back to Castelia regardless." Archer laces his fingers and droops his hands over the railing. "And then after that, we'll..."
"We don't know what we'll do."
The noise Archer makes is a light laugh. Silver almost misses it over the bridge's silence, but it's undeniably authentic. "We don't have a clue what we're going to do."
Silver can't stop himself laughing with him.
He thinks he's entered the wrong building by mistake when Opelucid's Leader appears to be a young girl. The dragons she possesses are no mistake, however, and Silver feels obligated to message Lance immediately after Feraligatr narrowly finishes off her Haxorus. He decides to leave his pokegear on, just in case Ethan and Lyra want to respond to his texts as well. They do, notably filled with obnoxious text faces and sugary sweet encouragements. Lance is as boring as ever in his writing, but genuine in his praise nonetheless.
Ethan tells him to come back soon and fight him for real in the Elite Four.
Silver thinks it's not a bad thing to look forward to.
The overnight ferry to Nacrene gently rocks Silver to sleep, as though he's a newborn baby in his cradle. He doesn't remember much about his early years until he turned five, when he was old enough to start understanding how his father worked. There were only so many times a child could excuse his father's busy schedule for never being there until they turned bitter on the tongue.
The visions remind him that Archer often made time in his schedule for Silver, even if it meant sitting on the couch in Archer's office and watching him twist the land for the sake of Giovanni and profit. Despite how paper-thin Team Rocket's ambitions were, Silver found himself breathless at his father's Pokemon abilities. Giovanni ordered the ground to shake for him, and so it did.
"Did you feel that, Silver?" his father asked when Nidoking forced the earth to rumble with a powerful stomp. "Do you feel it all the way through the top of your head? Incredible, isn't it?"
Young and impressionable, Silver nodded excitedly. It felt like he could sense his father everywhere, no matter what part of the region they took him to.
That was almost a lie, his dreams inform him. They kept him inside for safekeeping, separated just enough from Giovanni but still blanketed under the weight of Team Rocket's inheritance.
He was just a kid. He didn't have a clue what he wanted to do.
Archer always answered for him.
"You will become our leader, our boss, and you will be great."
He didn't even know if he could believe himself.
The dreams reflect the day he left on his own journey to be the best Trainer. Even though he left his inherited team behind, Archer bore no bitterness towards the heir.
Silver jumps awake with the thought that perhaps Archer knew he would never escape from them.
Archer is sitting on the edge of the bed when Silver rolls over and opens his eyes. The sun begins to peek past the ferry's windows; Nacrene is another hour away.
"Good morning, Silver."
"You haven't slept?"
"Not particularly."
Silver starts to roll back over, stops, then turns right back around. "Why?"
Archer takes a moment before replying. "I realized I've never been separated from Ariana for so long since the day we met."
Silver stares at him. "You miss her."
"Terribly. And Petrel and Proton."
"But you can't see them again." Silver sits up and grasps Archer's shoulder. "Don't you dare even think about trying."
Archer huffs, the closest resemblance to a laugh that he usually makes.
Silver leaves Archer in Nacrene's art galleries to be further offended by Burgh's paintings while he fights the local Gym Leader. He feels a little silly for not starting in eastern Unova, but Lenora uses a few Pokemon from her stronger teams to bring a fairer balance to the field. Rather than escape as fast as he can, he stays rooted to the floor, Badge in hand and awaiting her words.
"There are some problems you may never be able to solve in your life," she says. "But you should never let that stop you from exploring everything you can."
Desperation claws at his chest, and he finds himself blabbering in a rush. "But what if there's something I have to solve for the sake of myself and someone else?"
She blinks, taken aback at his shaking voice, but just when she appears to think of an answer, Silver spins around and leaves.
It's rare to find someone willing to listen to his every word, but he can't do it with anyone besides the one who was ordered to consume every rotten thing he says.
He can't place that burden on anyone else.
When he earns his final Badge in Striaton, it feels too soon.
The weather is still cool but a welcome break from the northern cities' climates. He takes Alakazam for a walk through the local gardens, adrift in the sensation of completing any Trainer's basic dreams. The Badge case in his pocket feels light, as though it's barely there.
He sends out texts to Ethan, Lyra, and Lance that he'll be returning soon, only because he had no idea what else he can tell them. They think he's all alone out here, bravely struggling through summer heat and perilous snowbanks while everyone else rests easily in Johto.
With the three Executives now serving their lifetime prison sentences according to the foreign papers, Johto will sleep easily, confident that they have escaped the threat of corruption forever.
Archer hands him a wad of pokedollars from their half-full suitcase of money. They get the best suite in the city, order the fanciest dishes to their room, and eat on the floor just to be different.
"When we return to Johto, I'll start preparing to fight the Elite Four," Silver declares. It's a strange statement to roll off his tongue, but it's not so bad to say. Archer acknowledges his every word with a nod.
"Are you sure you're ready to return?" Silver ponders that for a bit.
"No. But unlike you, I don't want to be so stubbornly sure about everything I do."
Silver counts this as the third time he's heard Archer genuinely laugh, which relieves so much boiling inside him.
They decide to take their time with their last few days in Unova. Archer, shockingly, chooses to sleep in a little. Silver rises from a dreamless slumber and breathes Striaton's air easily.
He sets a box of black dye on the bathroom counter as a reminder before quietly slipping downstairs for breakfast. Despite the off-season emptiness and abundance of space, the waiter seats a man at the table right behind him. The man is dressed in a hat and long coat, as though the melting snow outside still sends chills down his arms. Silver vents out his vague annoyance by chewing on his toast noisily, but soon stops when old habits remind him it's rude.
The dining hall's television flashes on with news that the proposed World Tournament has gathered the funds to be built. It's not expected to be open for a few more years, but its future potential inspires the public to support its progress and create the number one Trainer's location in the world.
It's all hype and flimsy dreams that inspire them, Silver thinks, but he's starting to understand that. He exhales loudly and raises a glass of orange juice.
The man behind him puts down his perfectly-picked fork with practiced delicacy.
"Number one is a rather bold statement to make, isn't it?"
The glass of juice tumbles from Silver's hand and thumps dully against the tablecloth, staining it hot orange.
His heartbeat drowns out noise from the television's cast. Silver feels his stomach churn and his eyes blur out of focus. A million thoughts blaze through his head, but when he tries to pick one to start with, it comes up blank.
The scent of familiar, expensive cigarettes scorch his nose.
Silver hunches forward, hands gripping the stained tablecloth. He imagines he's free-falling into feverish dreams of his childhood again, except he's learned how to move forward with time and now he's bound and trapped here in the present. His body is frozen to the chair and he can't even begin to turn around and face the familiar stranger behind him, though it seems that the man hasn't turned around either.
He hears Giovanni gently sip from a coffee cup and place it in its saucer, no doubt with the handle on the right and spoon on the left.
Silver opens his mouth and comes up with silence. He tries again and gasps weakly, twisting his hands deeper into the tablecloth.
"You seem to have grown taller," he father continues behind him. "So much so. It seems barely any time has passed at all."
There's a crunch of toast, followed by fingers rubbing against a napkin. Silver stares wide-eyed at his breakfast plate, unable to focus on the remaining half-eaten portion there. He has to speak, he has to start now or else he'll lose it forever: where have you been, why haven't you come back, do you regret leaving your Executives, do you regret leaving me-
Nothing comes out.
"And your hair, too. It's never been that long before."
Silver's neck cricks when he tries to move. The furthest he can look is just out of the corner of his eye, where he sees a gray trenchcoat and a freshly polished shoe. He snaps back into place, staring forward. The waiter is nowhere to be seen.
Archer is nowhere near him.
Giovanni's chair creaks. "I'm here because I heard of the World Tournament. I was a Gym Leader once, and rightfully so. They'll need representatives from Kanto, and I find it rather convenient that few people know of Team Rocket here. I think I should take advantage of it while I still can. You still believe I was the world's number one Trainer, don't you?"
Silver's hands shake hard enough to send his silverware rattling. He has the same feeling from when his father first left him, filling him with forthcoming dread. He has to speak. He has to at least look.
The newscast ends with an artist's rendition of the Tournament arena. Silver remains in place, even when he hears Giovanni push his chair back and stand up.
"I know you have no reason to listen to me, but I hope you will. I think of you every day. I had to disappear, as much as I've wanted to come back. Many times I've dreamed of rebuilding my team, but my time has come to move beyond that. I'm proud to see you've done the same. I watched you outside the Gym yesterday - few Trainers could hope to be as passionate as you."
All tension snaps free when a hand rests on Silver's shoulder. He releases the tablecloth, but still keeps himself rooted in place, forever staring forward.
"I can't provide the closure you're looking for, but seeing you today, I know you'll be fine on your own. You'll always be my son, and while I may not deserve it in your eyes, I couldn't be happier."
He hears Giovanni adjust his fedora and push his chair in. The hand leaves a warm mark on his shoulder when removed. "Also, don't tell Archer I was here. I think he's doing well with you and doesn't need any more encouragement from me. Take care, Silver, and perhaps the future will be good to us so we can meet again."
Footsteps start loudly behind him, then slowly fade into the distance until the television is the only sound in the room.
Silver sits in place, stone-cold, speechless, and barely taking in any of the city's air.
Noise breaks into the room when Archer finally enters the hall, hair shining with a fresh coat of dye.
"My apologies, Silver. I didn't expect to sleep in so late and I took a bit more time with..."
Archer trails off when he sees Silver's hunched shoulders jerking with erratic breathing. Hot tears fall down flushed cheeks and splatter against the remains of his lukewarm breakfast. He sniffles pathetically but does nothing to wipe his nose or eyes, arms and feet rooted firmly into place.
Archer holds his hands behind his back and stands before him silently, waiting for Silver's sobs to fade.
They drift back to Castelia and board the boat to Johto. People bump into their shoulders and pay no heed as they scramble to return to a simpler place with older ideals.
Silver leans against the railing as they depart, falling in and out of fitful dozing. He thinks he dreams of the last time he cried in front of Archer, barely six years old and terribly confused from what the world wanted with him. Archer picked him up and rubbed his back until he stopped, telling him he had plenty of time to recognize and obtain his destiny.
The sea has the same view from every side available. The temptation to fall in and break up the similarities nearly overcomes him.
Archer is by his side immediately, placing a hand on his arm.
"Silver?"
He looks up at the man who once held part of the world in his palm, now a mere baggage carrier for an ordinary Trainer.
"I'm not done with you yet."
Archer smiles. "Are you sure?"
Silver thinks he truly believes it.
He doesn't get past Lance.
Ethan fights him anyway in good spirit.
Silver experiences the same energy that began to develop within him during his time in Unova. Losing to Lance and Ethan is almost comforting - he's not sure how he would feel being a Champion, a great leader on top of the world staring down at people trying to climb to his level. It reeks of something too familiar.
He wonders if he's done, then.
Lance unsubtly coughs in his hand as they sit by the window of the League's halls. "Your abilities with ice have definitely strengthened. I've never seen a Sneasel fight like that before. I believe Pryce may be looking to retire from his Gym soon..."
Silver bursts outside a short time later and races through Victory Road's caves to where Archer is hiding. Documents of Gym Leader responsibilities and job overviews crumple in his hand as he holds them tightly against the early spring wind. He has to tell someone who will listen to him and support him unconditionally.
The cave's walls are constricting, cool, and silent.
Archer is nowhere to be seen.
Silver stands out in the cold.
Fmr Rocket Execs broken out of prison cells by wanted Exec Archer
Double-enforced ground broken into, Execs dug out to escape
In what is the biggest prison break in the region's history, Team Rocket Executives Ariana, Petrel, and Proton were all broken out of their cells last night and not discovered missing until early this morning during routine checks. Police are baffled at how the cells' concrete and steel structures were broken into from underground, though bitemarks in the concrete match the teeth alignment of a Houndoom. Leading Pokemon researchers say that the only way a Houndoom could have the strength to break such enforcements is through illegal breeding practices, such as radio wave technology.
A note with the words "For you" was left at the scene of each cell. Fingerprints on it match Executive Archer's fingerprints from the Goldenrod Radio Tower incident. With all four Executives at large and former boss Giovanni still missing, police wonder if the revival of Team Rocket will fall upon the region once again.
Silver barely recognizes that he's back at the League and sitting in front of Lance. He wavers as though stuck in a dream, struggling to sit upright as aching visuals flash before his eyes. For all he knows, none of this could be real. Lance talks on, like he knows everything that's happening around him right now. Fool.
"I'm sure it's surprising to you, but you should definitely consider it. It might be good to wait another year before fully taking the Mahogany Gym, if you want it, but I'm sure Pryce will take you as an apprentice in the meantime."
Silver's head droops. He thinks he sees Giovanni's retreating form while the ground shakes beneath him to his will.
"I just want to make sure you're considering all the options you can choose from. Never too young to think a little about your future, right?"
Archer's laugh-like noises ring in his ears as guilt boils in his stomach. He should have seen it coming. Always a Rocket. Always bound.
"Silver? You don't have to make a decision now-"
He jumps to his feet.
"Shut up and listen!"
Lance stops and looks up at him. Silver clenches his fists and tries to slow his erratic breathing.
"Silver," Lance says slowly, "if you had something to say, all you needed to do was ask."
Silver holds his breath.
He never had to ask with Archer.
"Anything you want to say," Lance continues when Silver sits down. "I'm listening."
Silver can't believe himself sometimes.
"I'm - I...I'm Giovanni's..."
Silver's numb to the point where he can't feel Lance's hand on his shoulder.
He can't possibly explain the entirety of Team Rocket's history in an afternoon. He answers Lance's questions related to testimonies from the trials months ago and fills in the gaps that the police could never solve. Lance half-jokingly states that his confusion to Ariana's resemblance now makes sense. Silver can't understand why Lance is eating up every word as truth, but at least he's listening.
He pulls his jacket tighter around himself.
"That's all I'll say. They mean nothing to me now. They'll move on without me."
"You won't testify? Silver, your account could help the police catch them again immediately-"
"It won't." Silver feels dizzy when he shakes his head. "You can't testify if there's no trial on. They won't be caught this time. They're gone."
Lance doesn't seem to understand, but swears his silence regardless.
Silver returns to Blackthorn with a half-full suitcase of money.
He takes ten steps into the city limits and then turns right back around to Mahogany.
After a week of apprenticing in a glacier of a Gym, Lyra has the nerve to ask him out for ice cream.
Silver finds he's getting used to the nip on his fingertips as he trains beside Pryce. The walls are as constricting and cold as the Dragon's Den, but for a purpose that he understands and believes in. Pryce treats him as a youth beyond his years, though he never talks down to him.
"I have suffered through much to get here," Pryce tells him at the end of his first week. "But I have always found a way through life's obstacles. Spring will always come! You will learn the same by the time you lead Mahogany."
A frozen treat doesn't seem like the worst idea. Eating next to Ethan is.
"And she's still totally mad at me for crashing her date! I mean, I dunno if it really would've worked out with that guy anyway, but Misty should give it a break already, 'cause I didn't know or else I would've waited a few minutes..."
Silver wipes a splatter of ice cream off his cheek as Ethan waves his spoon around harder.
"So, Silver," Lyra starts, interrupting Ethan during his Kanto adventure tales, "what are you going to do tomorrow?"
"Well, tomorrow..." Silver scrapes the bottom of his ice cream cup distractedly. He knows the answer, but there's always other possibilities. "I'll be at the Mahogany Gym in the morning. I'll probably leave in the afternoon."
"Great!" Ethan blurts out, now having forgotten his Kanto stories. "Lyra and I are gonna go to Ecruteak tomorrow for the first day of spring festival. You in?"
"It's just a festival." He sighs and drops his cup. These two find ways to be overly excited about everything the future holds.
It must be contagious.
"I'm in."
UNKNOWN NUMBER | UNLISTED REGION
We found him. Training and awaiting completion of Unova World Tournament. What after, we can't say, but we'll find a way together. I hope you come to witness at least a second of it.
Two years later, Silver boards the boat to Castelia City. He doesn't message Lance, Ethan, or Lyra until the boat's already left the docks. It's not too difficult to carry his bags to his room and the alarm on his pokegear reminds him when the dining hall is open.
He hasn't dreamed for a while, but that night, he sees a vision he doesn't recognize. It's not a reflection of his childhood, his ill-willed training, or his gradual inheritance of the Mahogany Gym as a true and honest Leader.
This time, his dreams gently tease him with things that could be. It shows him what meeting his father could be like, if he decides to find him. Maybe his hair is now gray and the lines are deeper around his eyes. Maybe he tries to build a connection with Silver once again, despite knowing that they will never be the father and son they are supposed to be. Maybe it's worth trying just to pretend they are, just for a moment in their short time together.
Perhaps even Ariana tries, if only to support Giovanni's efforts. Maybe Petrel and Proton keep everything safe by finding the best hideouts while Unova stays blissfully untouched by Team Rocket.
His dreams try to convince him that perhaps Archer will explain himself for breaking Giovanni's word and leaving him at Indigo Plateau. Maybe Archer believed that Silver finally found his own footing and was ready to move beyond his need for his father's best pawn. Perhaps there was so much more than simply wanting to reunite with Giovanni; perhaps Archer saw what Silver had become and the only way to truly free Silver was to escape. In his life liberated from the inheritance of Team Rocket, Archer was the last thing keeping him bound.
Through his dreams, Silver hopes these are the reasons. He hopes, and he believes it.
He closes his eyes and the boat softly rocks him to sleep.