Synchronization
by Magnus Prime
A/N: I acknowledge that my knowledge of Pokémon is limited to Generation One, so if you find any mistakes in canon, please let me know and I will do my best to fix them. I did do as much homework as I could, though.
Chapter One: The Interview
"Welcome back to PokéTalk, and I'm Victoria Chatterbox. Our final guest is someone you should all be very familiar with. He has been a trainer for the last sixteen years, starting at the age of ten." The hostess paused with a smile as the audience murmured in excitement. "Now we all know that ten is the usual age for starting with your first Pokémon, but it's unusual for someone to remain a trainer for as long as our next guest has. After all, you can't stay ten forever." The raven-haired hostess paused again as the audience chuckled appreciatively. "And now, please join me in welcoming…James Gottum!"
A set of golden curtains at one end of the stage parted, and a dark-haired man wearing blue jeans and a white shirt under a white-and-blue checkered button-up shirt entered the studio, giving a shy smile as he raised a hand of greeting toward the studio audience. Following him was a Gardevoir, seemingly floating along behind him while casting anxious glances at the audience behind an equally timid wave. Both of them seemed uncomfortable with the setting.
"Thank you for coming on the show!" Victoria nearly had to yell over the cheers of the audience as the three of them settled into their seats.
"Thank you for inviting me," James said somewhat meekly. "It's a real honor."
"Now, before we get started," the hostess said, gesturing toward her guests, "I'd like to point out that trainers usually don't bring their Pokémon with them to interviews like this, but when they do they usually bring them in a Poké Ball. Now James, I know we talked about this during our prep call, but – for those at home who may be new – could you tell us why you don't have your Pokémon stored in Poké Balls?"
James sighed heavily. "I, uh…"
The audience knew that the question brought back bad memories for the veteran Trainer.
The Gardevoir laid a delicate hand on her trainer's shoulder, and he seemed to draw some strength from the contact. "When I was about fifteen, I caught a Diglett. One of the cutest things I ever saw. Anyway, I caught it in the usual way and named him 'Horatio'. Dunno why, he just looked like one."
"'Horatio'…" Victoria repeated. "What an interesting name."
"Yeah," James replied, absently rubbing his nose. "Thanks. Anyway, I took him home to transfer him to another Poké Ball for storage, but…" he briefly bit his lower lip. "The, uh, ball that I was transferring him to…something was wrong with it, so…when I activated its 'capture' sequence….yeah." He bit his lip, clearly unable to go on. "I don't know if the ball was defective or if it was damaged when it was shipped…all I know is that Horatio…didn't survive."
"How terrible," Victoria said sympathetically. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like, and to still feel the sadness after all this time."
"Like having your heart torn out of your chest," he replied with a tight smile and matching voice. "After that, I studied the technology myself and vowed that I would only use balls that I created myself, and that I would only use them for the initial capture."
"That's amazing," the hostess breathed. "Fortunately, your skills as a trainer were quite impressive, allowing you to earn enough money to care for your now-free-roaming Pokémon, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," James replied, seeming to come out of his depressed state. "I only caught Pokémon I could reasonably care for until I found a farm for sale large enough to house my…well, my friends," he said, briefly exchanging a smile with the Gardevoir. "Kimono here may not be living in the lap of luxury, but I do my best to do right by her as well as the others."
"Now your Gardevoir here is a recent evolution, isn't…she? This one is a 'she'?"
"Yes, ma'am," James repeated. "Kimono here is female, and we evolved her about…six months ago?" He directed the question to the Pokémon next to him, who simply nodded twice. "Yeah, six months ago."
"And she's the one you're taking to the upcoming tournament, isn't she?"
"Yes, ma'am; she's 'flying solo' for this."
"Are you sure she's ready?" Victoria asked, putting on her best 'concerned' face. "Is six months long enough?"
"We'll find out tomorrow," he replied, looking to Kimono as he patted her on the shoulder. "I have faith in her."
The audience, who had been quiet to this point, chuckled appreciatively as the Gardevoir's face reddened.
"How adorable!" Victoria squealed at the sight of the blushing Pokémon.
"Thank…you," Kimono replied softly.
One could suddenly hear a pin drop in the studio.
"She…She can talk?!" Victoria was nearly on the edge of her seat. "I knew that they could talk telepathically, but otherwise I thought they just said their names!"
"Well, you know that Team Rocket's Meowth can talk," James explained. "So I just worked with Kimono...with her permission, of course."
"Was it difficult?"
James exchanged a glance with the Gardevoir before answering. "From what she's told me, it's…kinda like learning to write left-handed when you're used to writing right-handed."
"Amazing…" the hostess breathed. "Can…Would you be willing to answer some questions, Miss Kimono?"
"I…will do my best," the suddenly-shy Pokémon replied.
"We're still working on it, so she may not be able to answer very many," James interjected, then looked to his partner. "If you're up to it."
She studied him for a brief moment, then turned to the interviewer with a hesitant smile. "I'll do my best."
"Let's see…" Victoria pored over the papers in her hand. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting to interview a Pokémon today…" Frustrated, she put the papers aside. "Let's see…do you remember your life before Mr. Gottum caught…when you met Mr. Gottum?"
"I do," Kimono replied quietly. "I remember being in a wooded area, scared of everything. I didn't know what I was capable of, so I ran from everything." She looked over at her trainer with a warm smile. "I remember how serious James looked when I first saw his face; I thought he looked mean, but now I know that it was just his serious expression."
"I know the standard procedure for catching Pokémon," James admitted, "But I just couldn't bring myself to hurt her. I mean, she was a Ralts at the time…"
"…and very cute," Victoria remarked. "I could see the problem." She briefly studied the Gardevoir. "Did he have to use a Poké Ball to catch you?"
"No," she replied with another shy smile along with a blush. "Even thought he looked so stern, I could tell that he had a kind heart."
"She walked right up to me," James interjected, apparently growing uncomfortable with the praise. "She followed me and Pierre all the way home."
"'Pierre'?" Victoria asked with a puzzled look.
"My Psyduck," James answered. "We were out for training when we came across her."
"Pierre and I get along quite well," Kimono added.
"So you liked his kind heart back then," the hostess suggested. "What do you think of him now?"
"I love him," Kimono said, then quickly covered her mouth with a gasp as the audience 'aww'ed.
"I understand," Victoria said, affectionately patting the Pokémon's knee. "I know about how close Pokémon can be with their trainers, so it's okay." She then turned to James again. "Now, to the last and most important questions of the interview: do you have a lady in your life?"
"Wh-What?" James sputtered, more forcefully than intended. Next to him, Kimono's face almost matched the color of her hair. "N-No! With m-my responsibilities as a trainer, I don't have time for relationships like that!"
As he recovered from the question, Victoria looked over at the nearest camera. "You heard it here first, girls: James Gottum is on the market!"
On live TV and as the girls cheered, the veteran trainer buried his face in his hands, right along with his Pokémon.
Miss Chatterbox couldn't help but chuckle sympathetically along with the audience at the sight as she turned fully toward the camera. "Well, thank you for joining us today, Mr. Gottum, and good luck at the tournament tomorrow! This is Victoria Chatterbox, signing off! See you again tomorrow!"
James blew a heavy sigh as he half-fell into the plush chair in his hotel room. "Man, that was exhausting."
"Are you okay, James?" Kimono asked in his mind. Her psychic nature allowed her to recognize that her trainer was upset, of course, but not necessarily the exact cause.
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I will be. It didn't help that Miss Reeve started off asking about Horatio."
"Miss Reeve?"
"Victoria's real last name."
"Oh." Kimono stood before her trainer and watched him as he rubbed his nose. "Maybe…you should sleep in the bed tonight. You had a rough interview, and-"
"It's fine," James interrupted. "I'll sleep on the couch, like always." He cracked an eye open to look up at her. "Besides, you had a rough interview too, didn't you?"
She didn't answer, but cast her gaze to the floor.
"And you have a competition tomorrow," he finished. "Nope, you're taking the bed."
"I must insist-"
"Denied," James interrupted again. "Now please don't bring it up again."
"Understood."
Even though it was through a psychic link, he could hear the dejection in her tone, so he dropped his hand from his face to look at her properly. "I'm sorry, Kimono; I guess the interview stressed me out more than I thought."
"It's okay," she said as she moved behind him to rest her hands on her shoulders. "She was…unusually nosy. It almost triggered my protective instinct."
"Thanks," he grunted as she started to massage his shoulders with her delicate fingers. "Horatio, my lack of love life…"
She paused in her ministrations. "Do…Do you not desire companionship?"
"Huh?" He leaned back to look up at her. "What brought that on?"
She looked away, unable to look him directly in the eyes. "You've spent so much time taking care of us. Do you not want to marry, have a family?"
He smiled as he rested one of his hands on hers. "I have all the family I need, right here. You, Pierre, Gonzalez..."
"It's not the same!" she cried, then clapped her hands over her mouth, though it was unnecessary. "Oh! I'm sorry!"
"It's fine," James replied, waving a hand. "Go on; does this really bother you that much?"
He could feel the psychic equivalent of her opening and closing her mouth several times. "I...I'm sorry; I've said too much. G-Good night!" Before he could say another word, she hurried into the bedroom, nearly slamming the door behind her.
Her trainer was left scratching his head in the living room. "What was that all about…?"
Kimono lay on her side on the bed, trying to regain control of her breathing. I can not tell him. I already nearly messed up the interview. He is my trainer, and I am his…his…
Trainers were roused from their sleep as every psychic Pokémon within five miles of the hotel suddenly wailed in despair without any apparent cause.
James tossed and turned on the couch, unable to sleep. The interviewer's question about Horatio had brought back memories that he never wanted to recall. Even over a decade later, he could still see the Diglett's look of agony, his soundless scream as the energies from the malfunctioning Poké Ball tore him apart before finally atomizing him.
He finally threw off his covers with an exasperated grunt and rolled over to check the time on his phone. "Two AM…" he groaned. "I'm going to be worthless to her like this." He sat up and, after peeling off his sweat-moistened shirt, headed to the kitchen area to warm some milk. He needed something to help him settle down.
About a minute later he heard the door to the kitchen creak followed by a gasp, and he turned to see Kimono staring at him with wide eyes. "Hey," he greeted. "Sorry, was I too loud?"
She shook her head, her eyes fixed on his chest.
He looked down, and was suddenly reminded that he was shirtless. "Oh jeez, I'm sorry!" he yelped, hurrying past her out of the kitchen. "I'll fix this!" He quickly found his still-damp shirt and put it back on; he would just have to put up with it for now. He then headed back into the kitchen to find her still frozen in place. "Are you okay?" he asked, gently taking her by the shoulders.
She shuddered once before blinking and looking up into his face. "I'm fine, James; I'm sorry for acting the way I did."
"No, it's my fault," he said, shaking his head. "I just wasn't thinking."
"Are…Are you all right? I felt distress, and came out to check on you."
"I was…remembering Horatio's accident," James admitted. "I guess the first question from the interview got me thinking about him."
"I wish I could take the pain away," she said as she pressed against him as much as the horn on her chest would allow. "It hurts me to see you hurting like this."
"Th-Thanks," he said, not sure what to make of her behavior. Of course, he knew that Gardevoir were sensitive to the emotional states of others, but her behavior was still…unexpected. "I'll be fine; I just have to deal with it again." With that, he turned back to the stove where the pot of milk was still heating.
As he waited he realized that his eyelids were slowly starting to feel heavier and, when he focused, he recognized the slight 'sound' of alpha waves. It only took him a moment to realize where they were coming from, and he turned to find Kimono with her eyes closed, seemingly concentrating. "Kimono, are you doing that?"
Her eyes slowly opened and she focused on him. "I am trying to induce alpha waves in your mind, yes. Am I wrong to do this?"
"No," he chuckled as he poured the warm milk in a cup. "No, but I still need to drink this, otherwise it'll be wasted. I wish you'd warned me first, too; I could've fallen asleep onto the stove." He quickly downed the warm drink and rinsed out the cup before sending her a lopsided, if sleepy, smile. "I guess if you want to sing me to sleep, though, I'm game."
Her giggle floated though his mind as he headed back to the couch, got under the covers, and took off his still-moist shirt again, throwing it across the back of the couch.
It wasn't long before sleep claimed him, his last vision being one of Kimono looking down at him with gentle yet unreadable expression.
