A/N: This story was inspired by and dedicated to the Umbreon in my life. If the meaning of that is not clear now, it may be later. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, but no flames, please. They are useless and will be put out immediately by my Vaporeon. She's right here.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokémon.
Darkness.
The seconds drag on.
Movement.
Will this ever end?
Bars.
Make it stop…
A flash of light.
No more… No more… NO!
Cold steel.
Take a deep breath…
Stifling silence.
Three...
Two...
One...
Pain.
The sun shines brightly directly overhead. I can feel its rays on my fur, power almost literally soaking into me and recharging my strength. I stand a little straighter now, glaring at my opponent with clear purple eyes. The Machop actually looks surprised, his expression reflected on his trainer's face. Behind me, Fylix only smiles slightly. He speaks the next command, his tone very measured–he's like that, not raising his voice too much.
"Angel, Future Sight." I nod, eyes narrowing and shimmering bright purple, not that I can see that particular detail. Nothing happens.
If the other trainer is confused by this, she doesn't say anything, instead barking out a command to Machop. My opponent runs towards me, his fist drawn back and glowing white as he prepares to deliver what looks like a powerful Dynamic Punch. I duck out of its way and the clearing explodes with light as the Machop's fist slams into the grass.
"Machop, attack again!" I whirl around to see my opponent bearing down on me. My eyes widening slightly, I glance over at Fylix. He gazes at us calmly, saying not a word.
With a slight smile, I suddenly realize why.
A bright energy ball shimmering with all the colours of the rainbow slams into Machop seemingly out of nowhere and I jump back. As the Machop starts to collapse from the psychic energy, I stiffen, my mouth opening in wordless shock. I blink as images barrage my mind.
"Angel?" Even in my confused state, I can detect the undercurrent of urgency in Fylix's voice. As always, he immediately knows something's wrong.
Darkness. A flash of blue.
I pass out.
...
"How do you feel?" The voice cuts into my confused thoughts as I blink sleepily. What happened? I finally open my eyes to see a very worried-looking Chansey hovering over me. I just nod, stifling a yawn.
What can I say? Maybe the blinding pain behind my eyes can account for that unsatisfactory reply. I'm actually about to slip back into my dreams–they're dreams, right?–when Fylix of all people walks in. I haven't seen Nurse Joy, but she has to be around somewhere.
"I'm sorry, Angel. So sorry..." Like it was his fault that happened. Whatever that is.
"It's okay," I manage to get out. I know by now humans can't understand me. It was worth a try, right?
He runs a hand through his black hair. "The battle was a tie. We were more concerned about you, however." I tilt my head to show I'm listening, sending stabs of pain shooting through it. I grit my teeth as he continues: "What happened? Future Sight finished off the battle when you collapsed, for seemingly no reason..." He has that pensive air about him, the one that I'm increasingly getting used to. It's one of the reasons we win so many battles.
Truth be told, I don't know what happened myself. One second I've just won against my opponent, the next I feel like I'm hurtling through time and space. It was an ordinary battle, nothing particularly odd that should have clued me in to this. Fylix and I were travelling, as usual, and I was out of my Poké Ball, naturally. We came across a young trainer with her Pokémon and Fylix challenged her to battle in that calm way of his. It's not that he's aggressive about battling; he just wants to become better at what he does. At what we do.
Here's the thing–he has other Pokémon, but he prefers training and battling with me. We have been with each other for quite a while now, to be sure, so I'm not about to complain.
Fylix crouches down next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. I'm lying on my side, my head cushioned by some sort of pillow. Fylix smiles gently, his dark green eyes clear and partially obscured by strands of hair. I wave my forked tail ever so slightly in response, and of course he notices.
"Get some sleep, Angel. Rest is all you need."
I'm asleep before he's gone.
...
"Who are you?" The question is spoken so urgently I'm instantly awake. I can't even see the speaker, and for some reason I can't tell if it is male or female, human or Pokémon.
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. The place is two things I hate–dark and very, very open. The black empty space threatens to press in on me, to crush me out of existence. The cold, creeping fingers of a light, smoky mist do not help in the slightest. I slowly rise into a sitting position, my shoulders hunched and my tail wrapped tightly around my paws. Despite the seeming lack of a light source, I can see my body, my fur a pink-purple outline against the gloom.
"Identify yourself, Espeon. What's your name?" The voice is softer, as if the speaker was making an attempt to soothe my obvious unease. Even so, I could hear a strange combination of alarm and concern under the surface.
"Angel," I reply quietly. The cold caress of the mist is replaced by something else. Just a hint, the faintest feather-touch of something behind me. I suck in my breath sharply and turn my head at an almost painful angle, but I don't see anything except the yawning emptiness of this strange place. The presence I felt behind me is gone. It was so brief I barely registered it, but the sudden cold I feel is like a claw digging at my heart.
"What- What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" I finally force myself to speak again, moving only to look around me. I'm still alone, so alone.
"Do you expect me to answer both questions at once?" If I wasn't so confused, I would have picked up on the dry amusement in the voice even sooner than I do. The change in tone somehow emboldens me, and I shake my head crossly.
"All right, then. Sometimes, we don't know why we're somewhere until we're there. More often, the meaning is made clear only afterwards." I feel vaguely irritated by this, for some reason that eludes me as I try to grasp the thought. Impulsively, I decide the speaker is male, although nothing points my guess in that direction.
"Who are you, anyway?" I challenge the darkness, slowly standing up. I would still not rather walk anywhere, for fear of getting lost. Then again, what is there to get lost in?
"We are who we make ourselves. You of all Pokémon should know that," the mysterious voice replies, sounding reproachful. As if he can sense my annoyance, he quite helpfully adds, "We are who we want to be."
"And who do you want to be?" I immediately ask before he could pose a question.
The answer is so quiet I barely hear it: "A saviour." The word seems to echo and my vision blurs. Someone steps into my field of view, someone I can barely make out. All I see is bright streaks, flashes of a blue that shimmers between electric blue and ultramarine. What kind of Pokémon is this? I wonder as I give way to the white pressing in on my vision.
It will only be later, much later, that I realize I was not given a straight answer to any of my questions.
