DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon and don't wish to.

CHAPTER ONE:

BEHIND THE SUN

The interrogation room was illuminated by an old fluorescent fixture that had been flickering incessantly since Lawrence arrived. Without a watch or sunlight, it was impossible for him to tell just how long he had been sitting in this cold, eerie space — but he guessed that it had been at least an hour's wait, if not more. It didn't take much effort to figure out that this was probably part of the plan: a waiting tactic devised to upset him, maybe even to rile him up. Unfortunately for them, he was neither upset or riled. He was merely alone — a state of reality that was enough to some put some people ill at ease, but by no means foreign or unwelcome to him. This was an opportunity to lose himself for a bit, to retreat into a world of thought. A much-needed reprise. After closing his eyes, Lawrence quickly busied his mental faculties with a task: figuring out who actually had the audacity to lock him up.

Well, he knew it was the League behind this, of course. When the Auditor showed up his doorstep flanked by two policemen and serving an immediate subpoena, there could be no doubt. They barely gave him enough time to dress his youthful, lanky frame and comb his unkempt blonde hair. But the real, pressing question was "who" in the sense of a person — no mid-level magistrate could concoct a reasoning valid enough to haul him in. This must have come from the very top.

Someone must have found out.

As those words reverberated in his thoughts, he heard the door creak. Opening his eyes, he saw two figures enter the room. A League Officer quickly closed the interrogation room's door behind them. The two figures stepped into the weak fluorescent light, revealing themselves to Lawrence.

"Do you know why you're here, criminal?"

With those words, Lawrence didn't even need to look up. Those bellowing words couldn't come from any other voice — a voice so unique that Lawrence's eyes didn't need deceive him. It was Lance, the Dragon Master. Champion of Johto and Kanto. One of the most powerful trainers to walk the Earth. Et cetera, et cetera. None of these facts bothered Lawrence. In fact, he was glad it was Lance. Lance possessed an immense amount of talent for Pokemon training — but little else. Critical thinking wasn't Lance's strong suit. He may have gotten away with this yet.

Lawrence's eyes turned to the second figure. And then a lump made itself felt in the pit of his stomach. Steven. Hoenn's champion. Son and Heir to the Elder Stone of Devon Corporation. One of the most astute trainers to ever challenge the Elite Four, a master of both raw strength and the feint. Lawrence could talk his way through Lance's obtuse and bone-headed inquiries. He had no idea how to play Steven. He needed to keep Lance going.

"I was subpoenaed, if I recall correctly." Lawrence finally answered. Lance shook his head.

"We don't have time for this." Lance responded, eyes on Steven instead of Lawrence.

Lance's hand dropped to his belt, where several Poke-Balls rested, held by magnets.

"Now, now." Steven began, resting his hands on Lance's arm. He then turned and dragged a chair from the corner of the room, lining it up with the table. He sat.

"I'm not going to lock you up, if that's what you're thinking."

Lawrence frowned. Why play that hand so early?

"Then why am I here?"

"Because we'd like to ask you a few questions."

"And if I don't answer?"

Steven exhaled deeply.

"Then Lance is going to have you monitored by League agents every second of every day until he gets the answers he wants."

"That sounds like a horrendous waste of resources."

"I agree. That's why I figured I'd just bring you here to get your side of things."

"Against my will?"

"Lance was very particular about the time frame."

Lawrence leaned back in his chair, and focused his eyes on Lance.

"Well?" He asked.

Lance looked surprised for just a moment, and then frowned deeply. A reddish pall worked his way across his cheeks.

"W-Well what, you criminal?"

"You wanted to ask me some questions, according to Steven."

Steven suppressed a chuckle.

"Well, there you go, Lance. Ask away."

Lance produced a small manilla folder that he had been holding behind his back with his right hand, and tossed it onto the desk, retreating back into the shadow of a dim-lit corner. Steven proceeded to open the folder, which contained what looked like three dossiers. He arranged all three of the dossiers on the desk so that Lawrence could see them. Lawrence frowned when he saw the three names in bold red print.

Sabrina Natsume

Jasmine Mikan

Phoebe Fuyo

Lawrence looked up from the dossiers. Steven raised an eyebrow.

"Jasmine and Sabrina are Gym leaders working under Lance. Phoebe is one of my Elite Four members. All three of them quit their positions within twenty four hours of each other last week. And you know all that."

"I do?"

"Of course you do!" Lance piped up from his corner. He approached the table.

"We hired a private investigator to look through their records. Totally parallel lives, those three. Never met each other before, trained different types of Pokemon, grew up and competed in different leagues. There's only one link between those three, and guess who it is?"

Lawrence shrugged. "I was never good at these sort of games."

Lance clenched his fist.

"Fuck. You." Lance spat. "Where are my Gym Leaders?"

"You're implying I took them."

"Yes, I am."

"They resigned of their own accord. They filed their resignations with the league offices in-person."

"And how do you know that?" Lance asked, elated.

Lawrence smiled. He must think this is his "gotcha! "moment.

"Because it's in the dossier."

Lance's face whitened considerably. Lawrence pointed it out on each document. It was the last line in the dossiers, recording the date, location and time of their resignations. Lance quickly gathered the documents and returned to his corner.

Steven cleared his throat.

"I'm not accusing you of anything like kidnapping," He began, "but the commonality in each of these dossiers links to you. You can't expect us to not investigate when three of our premiere staff all go silent on the same day."

Lawrence straightened up in his seat. He could imagine where this was going.

"Then why do you want to hear my side of things? It would seem that you've already reached a conclusion."

Steven raised a finger.

"Well, Lance seems quite convinced, but I'm not so sure." Steven ran a hand through his silver hair. "I must admit I thought it was you until I noticed that you had been out of touch with them as long as you had. But that isn't enough to clear you off my personal list of suspects."

"Suspected of what crime, exactly?"

"Well, Lance is ready to haul you into court for obstruction of justice."

"With what evidence?"

Steven shrugged.

"This interview, I would guess, if you refuse to cooperate. I'd imagine he's got some other evidence, too, if that fails."

"So then why should I cooperate?"

"Because I've made a deal with him to let you walk if you do."

Lawrence's eyes turned to Lance, who now had his back turned. They returned to Steven.

"So what exactly do you need me to tell you?"

"The whole story. Your relationships with each of the girls. From the beginning."

Lawrence nodded. He leaned back in his chair.

"All of it?"

"Yes."

"I'd like a glass of water. And a pack of cigarettes. Reds."

Steven snapped his fingers. The door creaked open, and the League officer placed a bottle of water and a pack of cigarettes, and a book of matches on the table. Lawrence couldn't help but smile.

Steven returned the grin with a polite nod. Lance emerged from his corner and took up a chair next to Steven. Lawrence took a sip from the bottle as he fiddled with the plastic wrap on the cigarette pack.

Putting a bogey to his lips, he lit it and took a long drag. Following another drink of water, he began:

"It's a long story—"