Disclaimer: Yeah... I don't own Pokémon. I own nothing. Except my GameBoy. I can live with that.
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He'd just gotten into town, and it looked like there was a festival going on. He'd never really been a fan of social gatherings, but he knew now that he really needed to start socializing. At least, he did if he ever wanted to become the Champion, according to Reggie.
So, Paul wandered through the crowds in Hearthome City, ignoring the whispers and pointing he was so used to now. Well, no one said being a nationally recognized trainer would be easy, now, did they? Paul thought wryly to himself. Thirteen years after starting his Pokémon journey, he was a favorite to finally defeat the long-time Champion, Cynthia.
But, as his dear, sweet brother Reggie had pointed out, no one liked Paul. Paul gnashed his teeth as the memory of his brothers' words.
"Paul, man, I'm happy for you and the fact that you just might beat Cynthia soon. I am. But... What're you going to do if you become the Champion? 'Cause... Well, no offense, but you've always pushed people away, kept them at a safe distance, y'know?"
"What's your point, Reggie?" Paul had asked, trying to see why that would stop him from being an excellent Champion of the Sinnoh Region.
"You're alone," Reggie said, as though it was obvious. "Like, alone alone."
"Again, I say... What's your point, Reggie?"
"People like to see a Champion with good people skills," Reggie said patiently. "And you don't have those."
Paul returned to the present after nearly walking into a souvenir cart. He muttered an apology to the cart's keeper and continued wending his way through the crowd.
I need to be able to battle to be the Champion, Paul thought bitterly. I don't need people skills. And I certainly don't need... that.
Reggie had suggested, oh-so-subtly, that Paul find a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, if that was what Paul was into.
"Really, little brother," Reggie had said. "Would it be the end of the world to actually interact with other people?"
"Yes."
"C'mon, I'm trying to help you out here," Reggie sighed. "I think you need a girlfriend, little brother."
"No."
"Fine, a boyfriend, then," Reggie corrected. Paul glared at him. "What? You never talk to me about that stuff. I don't know what you like."
"It's none of your business," Paul said with finality. "If I don't want a girlfriend, I won't get one."
"Hey, mister!" a little boy's voice pulled Paul out of his thoughts. He looked down to see a blond boy of about seven years staring at him in awe. "You're that super-awesome trainer that's gonna beat Cynthia out of the Champion's title!"
"Uh... ," Paul looked at the kid, unsure of how to answer. "Yeah."
"Awesome!" the boy squealed. "Can I get your autograph? Please, pretty please?"
Paul stared at the kid for a long moment before the child's mother ran over and pulled him away, saying, "Hurry up, Connor, the show's about to start! Sorry if he was bothering you, sir."
Paul shrugged and watched the kid get dragged away to watch 'the show.' What was the show?
"Hey," Paul called over to one of the nearby cart proprietors. The man glanced up from the magazine he'd been reading. "What's going on?"
"The Gym Leader and some hotshot Contest Coordinator are having a demonstration," the man answered, sounding bored. "Showin' off moves and stuff, I guess."
"Oh," Paul said. "Thanks."
The man went back to his magazine. The street, which had been crowded with hundreds of people until a moment ago, was now completely deserted. Paul wandered down the street towards the Contest Hall. He had zero interest in Contests at all, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do. He didn't want to go back to Veilstone and get harassed by Reggie again, and his Pokémon were at the Pokémon center, so training wasn't an option either.
He got to the Contest Hall in time for the final battle. Thank Arceus I missed the damn appeals, Paul thought, walking to a pillar with a good view of the stage and leaning against it. Wonder who the trainer up against Fantina is?
Fantina stood on one side of the battlefield in her floor-length sparkly purple ball gown, weighing a Pokéball in her hand. Standing opposite her was a woman with dark blue hair, wearing a knee-length, dark pink dress, tossing her chosen Pokéball up in the air and catching it again. She was the picture of confidence.
"Mismagius, battle position, s'il vous plaît !" Fantina yelled, throwing the Pokéball high into the air. The Ghost-type Pokémon materialized in a flash of red light.
"Just like I thought," the woman opposite her said, smiling slightly. She, too, threw her Pokéball, shouting, "Quilava, spotlight!"
The woman's Quilava appeared, and shook his head quickly, as if preparing himself for the battle.
"Mismagius, use Shadow Ball, tout de suite!" Fantina called. The dark purple Pokémon gathered a ball of dark energy before releasing it effortlessly.
"Dodge it, Quilava," the other woman ordered, "Then counter it with your Flamethrower!"
The little Fire-type leapt neatly aside, the Shadow Ball missing him by several feet.
"Quil-lava!" Quilava opened its mouth and shot a stream of flames at Mismagius. Fantina told her Pokémon to dodge, but too late; the Flamethrower hit the target.
"Beautiful, Quilava," the woman praised. "Now, use your Swift attack!"
What the hell is she thinking? Paul wondered. Mismagius is a Ghost-type. Swift isn't going to do anything.
"I hope you don't think that will work," Fantina called. "You know your Swift won't touch Mismagius!"
"Do it anyway, Quilava! Use Swift!"
Quilava obliged, and massive stars shot at Mismagius. The attack went straight through the Ghost's body, and Fantina laughed. "I told you, no?"
"More, Quilava!"
The Fire-type increased the intensity of the attack, to the point where Paul couldn't even see Mismagius. Brilliant, he thought.
"Perfect!" The woman yelled. "Now, Quilava, use Flame Wheel!"
Quilava shot out flames before curling into a ball and shooting straight for Mismagius. Fantina had understood her opponent's strategy too late, and couldn't tell her Pokémon to avoid the attack it never saw coming. Quilava's Flame Wheel smashed into the Mismagius, who fell to the ground. The two attacks were undoubtedly powerful, but Mismagius was still up.
"Mismagius, it is time to use Payback!" Fantina commanded. Mismagius gathered purple light from nowhere and shot it at Quilava.
"Try to get out of the -!" the other woman yelled, but too late. "Are you alright, Quilava?"
Payback had done twice as much damage as usual, because Mismagius had just suffered from Quilava's Flame Wheel. Quilava struggled to his feet and nodded once, reassuring his trainer with a, "Quil!"
"Good – now, use Eruption!"
Quilava launched the powerful attack, and it was a direct hit to Mismagius. The Ghost Pokémon collapsed.
"Mismagius is unable to battle!" the referee shouted. "The match goes to Dawn and her Quilava!"
Paul applauded with the rest of the spectators. He was impressed by the woman's strategy – the referee said her name was Dawn? – it wasn't something he would have considered as quickly as she had. He wanted to speak with her about it. At least Reggie will be pleased I'm making voluntary human contact, Paul thought darkly.
Dawn shook hands with Fantina, and she and her Quilava left the stage to deafening applause. Fantina then stepped to the microphone and began to make a speech and offer to take questions. Paul pushed himself off of the pillar and quickly made his way backstage.
He meandered through the halls backstage, trying to find the Coordinator. He found her in a locker-type room, pulling a brush through her long blue hair. Paul didn't really want to startle a woman he didn't even know, so he knocked on the door before he went all the way into the room. She turned around, and her blue eyes grew huge.
"Paul?" she asked incredulously, standing and facing him. Paul cocked his head slightly. Did he know her? She obviously knew him, and not in a hey-you're-that-famous-guy kind of way.
"Do... I know you?" Paul asked. The woman crossed her arms and sighed huffily.
"Ten freakin' years, and you still don't know who I am?" she grumbled. "Least now I know you're the same guy. Dawn. I used to travel with your rival, Ash? I have a Piplup, and you forgot my name all the time?"
Recognition slowly dawned on Paul. "You're that girl?"
Dawn nodded, uncrossing her arms. "Why're you here?"
Paul folded his arms defensively. "It's a public event in a big city. With a Gym."
"I don't mean here in Hearthome, or even here at the exhibition," Dawn rolled her eyes. "I mean, why are you here, backstage of said exhibition in the locker room?"
"Got lost," Paul lied, shrugging. Dawn made a face at him, clearly showing that she didn't believe him.
"You knocked on the door," Dawn reminded him. Paul just shrugged again.
"I just wanted to know if you knew how to get out of here," Paul said, adding for good measure, "presumptuous woman."
Dawn's mouth fell open. She narrowed her eyes at him, and replied coldly, "Well, I do. You turn around, go back up that long hall, through the giant auditorium, all the way up the stairs, and you go through the big giant doors that say 'exit' over them."
She slammed a locker door shut and disappeared behind a row of lockers. Paul smirked. She's still so easy to upset, Paul noted, retreating back the way he'd come.
- / - / -
He's still the same arrogant, insufferable jerk he was when I was ten years old, Dawn thought angrily, yanking on her regular clothes (a black tennis skirt and a hot pink sleeveless shirt). I don't even know why I thought he might have grown up just a teensy bit in ten years.
I don't know why it bothers you, another voice in the back of her mind whispered.
It doesn't bother me, Dawn informed the voice, lacing up her pink-and-black plaid shoes. It's just obnoxious that he still doesn't treat me with respect. I am an internationally known Contest Coordinator. I've won the Sinnoh Grand Festival three times. Even if he doesn't like me, he should be respectful.
Dawn folded her contest dress neatly and pushed it into her bag. She left the locker room and left the Hearthome Contest Hall by a door directly opposite her, which she had conveniently forgotten about until that very moment. Poor little Paul, having to walk all that way. Oh, well. Dawn thought, shrugging.
She walked into the bright July sunshine, cursing herself for leaving her sunglasses at her apartment. She only stayed there when there was a Contest in or near Hearthome; she traveled too much to have a permanent residence. She spent a lot of her time in hotels across various regions.
"What should we do?" she asked her Pokéballs, shading her eyes against the sun. "Lunch? Okay, sounds good to me, too, guys."
"You keep talking to yourself, and people will think you're crazy," a voice told her. Dawn spun around to see Paul leaning against a tree nearby.
"When did you become such a creeper?" Dawn asked him, crossing her arms.
"I was on the phone," Paul defended. Dawn raised her eyebrows and spread her hands, silently asking 'So what?' "And I heard you talking to yourself like an insane person, so I decided to tell you that you're not hiding the crazy too well."
Dawn rolled her eyes and started to walk away.
"Hey, wait up," Paul called after her. She didn't stop or slow down, but Paul caught up to her in a second anyway. "I... kind of have a favor to ask."
Dawn glanced at him. "Seriously?"
"Trust me, I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to," Paul assured her. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest and he looked very uncomfortable.
"I believe you," Dawn said, smirking at him.
"Look, I have to go to this... dinner thing tonight," Paul said, the discomfort in his voice mounting every second. Dawn waited for him to continue, but he didn't.
"That's great for you?" Dawn said. "Go. Eat food."
"I have to bring someone," Paul continued finally. Dawn snorted.
"And you immediately thought of me, seeing as we're so close," Dawn said sarcastically.
When did she get like this? Paul wondered. The girl he remembered wouldn't have talked to him like this. Granted, he'd never known her well, but. . . .
"No. But I have to take someone, and you're the safest option I can think of," Paul said bluntly. "I don't want to take you, but it's that or a stalker fangirl."
"Excuse me, who said I was going?" Dawn challenged, stopping and facing Paul. He stopped too, and crossed his arms. She did the same.
"I need to take someone," Paul repeated.
"Take your brother."
"A girl."
"Take your mom."
Paul glared at her. She didn't have to be so damned stubborn, did she?
"A date," Paul said, his eye twitched ever so slightly at the word. "Like a girlfriend."
"Take someone else," Dawn said indifferently. "It's not my problem that you're incapable of human interaction. Besides, you hate me."
"It's just one night," Paul persisted, not denying that he hated her. He didn't, but that wasn't really the point. "I don't like this any better than you, but if I took someone else it would have to be like a real date. You know the real deal, so I wouldn't be giving you any false impressions."
"What's in it for me?"
"Excuse me?" Paul asked incredulously.
"What do I get if I do this for you?"
"Nothing," Paul spat. Dawn shrugged.
"Then I'm terribly sorry, but I have big plans tonight," Dawn drawled. She walked away slowly, leaving Paul clenching his fists and cursing all women.
"You can call your mom and tell her that you're not pathetic and you have a boyfriend," Paul called after her. Cheap shot, he thought.
Dawn whirled around and stomped back over to him.
"You are a disgusting little pig, Paul," Dawn hissed. "I thought you might've grown up a little since I last saw you, but no. Fact of the matter is, I wouldn't help you if you were dying. Go to your stupid dinner party alone, and explain to all the big shots there that you are a miserable excuse for a human being, and you couldn't get a girl to go out with you."
"Fine, that wasn't strictly necessary," Paul grunted. "It is just one night. And it's not like I'm asking you to pull out your eyeballs. I'm taking you to a free dinner. A free, gourmet dinner."
"Did you not hear me just say 'I wouldn't help you if you were dying?' 'Cause I meant it."
"What do you want?" Paul finally asked, rubbing his temples. Women were so dramatic.
"Huh?" Dawn said, confused.
"What do I have to do to get you to do this for me?" Paul grumbled.
"Beg," Dawn decided. Paul's eyes flew open.
"No."
Dawn cocked her head and smiled slightly. Paul shook his head.
"I am not going to beg."
Dawn's eyes narrowed contemplatively. Paul stared back at her, his resolve not edging one bit.
"Alright. I'll go. I just wanted to see what you'd do if I made you beg," Dawn giggled for a moment, but then looked serious. "But let me say right now that I'm not happy about this and you will have to do something for me in return. Anything I ask for."
"You have serious problems," Paul said, frowning. Dawn shrugged, grinning. "But fine. Anything you ask for – within reason, that is – I'll do. Okay, it's a nice party. . . Black tie. So try not to look horrible."
Dawn's eyes narrowed.
"And I'll pick you up from wherever you're staying around seven-thirty," Paul said.
"The big apartment building right there," Dawn said, pointing it out. It was across Amity Square. "Apartment twenty."
Paul was still looking at the apartment building when he said, "There's going to be important people that I kind of work with there, too, so don't embarrass me."
When Dawn didn't reply, Paul glanced around to find himself standing alone. Dawn had obviously left.
Well, at least she's going to go.
- / - / - / -
