I don't own Pokemon. Also, this story contains violence and mild language, so if you don't like that I suggest you don't read it. Thanks (:

I was back to the nine year old version of me: shoulder length bright ginger hair and a smattering of freckles across my little face. I looked up at the frail, red headed woman standing above me in the small coat closet. She looked nervous, and more stressed than I'd ever seen her in real life.

"Mommy, what's going on?"

"Quiet, Nora." Her brow furrowed even deeper as she peeked out the door and into the hallway. Her hand jumped to her mouth and she snapped the door closed and pushed me into the corner of the closet, behind the row of black and red uniforms, out of sight. She then sat down and wrapped her arms around her stick legs and buried her face in her chest.

The sounds of fast approaching heavy footfalls landing on linoleum and harsh voices alerted me to why she had gasped.

"Nora," she whispered, sounding urgent. Little me peeked through the coats to get a good look at her. Her blue eyes stared intently back at mine. "Stay hidden, stay safe, and don't make a sound. They're bad people; they won't hesitate to hurt you just because you're a kid."

"Okay," I said meekly. I didn't really know what she was talking about. She whispered 'I love you' and before I even got a chance to respond the door jerked open, revealing two men clad in black uniforms, not unlike the ones I was hiding behind. I pushed myself against the wall of the closet as hard as possible, closed my eyes and covered my mouth. If my mom was afraid of them, then they must be bad.

"There's the bitch. Grab her," one of the men said gruffly. I tightened my eyes so I didn't have to see what would happen, as if I somehow knew I'd have the privilege of watching my mom get kicked in skull by steel toed boots. Her screams, however, there was no way to block out. My head seemed to echo, and I had to bite down on my hand to keep myself for screaming out loud. I tasted blood, but I didn't let up. I peeked through my tiny hand when the screaming stopped, figuring they had shown mercy and let her go, only to see my mom, blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling in a pool of blood.

I let out a high pitched scream, and the men standing above her started towards the back of the closet. My hand shot to my mouth, and they had just gotten close enough that I could see the whites of their eyes when…

I shot straight up in bed and immediately regretted it, my pounding head adding to my rapid heartbeat and the salty taste of blood in my mouth. I closed my eyes, willing the spinning to go away. Once it had decreased I slid my feet to the wooden floor and staggered to the bathroom and spit the blood in the sink. I guess I thought my tongue was my hand and bit down on it when I was dreaming.

Throwing off the tee shirt and shorts I was using as pajamas, I jumped in the shower. Hot showers always calmed me down after a bad dream; I would know; I've had them for years. Six years, to be precise. But hey, who's counting?

After about ten minutes of hot shower heaven I switched off the water, wrapped the towel around me and slipped back into my room. My little black alarm clock informed me that it was only one thirty a.m., the perfect time for what I was planning to do. I tossed my towel to the ground and hastily dressed in a black tee shirt and grey capris sweatpants. I speedily dried my soaking hair and threw it up; not really giving a damn about what it looked like.

Picking up my purple cell phone off the night stand, I sent him a quick text, knowing he'd still be up. He always was.

Nora: I'll be over in 5-10 mins. Leave your window open.

Not even a second later it vibrated in my hand.

Peter: Will do. Hurry up.

I threw my pokebelt, with its handy dandy cell phone compartment and equipped with two Pokeballs, my babies, and quietly slipped the window above the garage open. It was just big enough for me to squeeze through and jump the 5 feet onto the top of the garage. If I was lucky I may just land without falling. Maybe.

Of course, I'm an expert on sneaking out by now. Regular teenage rebel right here.

I snorted at my own joke and decided it'd probably be a good time to get my ass moving before Peter had one of his impatient hissy fits again. Throwing one leg out the tiny window, then the next, I took a flying leap and landed in crouch position on top of the rickety garage roof. Plopping down on my butt, I slid off the side, probably taking a few shingles with me. But since I successfully made it to the ground without breaking anything I smiled at my own sneakiness.

Thankfully it was summer, and Johto's summers are so hot it's at least 65 at one thirty. I started jogging up the block, turned left, then right, then went straight until I saw the familiar three story white house that belonged to Peter and his brood of siblings. I walked around back, jumping the little white picket fence surrounding his backyard. Lucky for me, his dad had left a ladder leaning against the back of the house and never bothered to put it away quite some time ago.

I started the climb up to his second floor bedroom window, which he left open on my instruction. Stumbling through the window and landing on my face wasn't my first choice of fashionable entries, but it was better than falling backwards and breaking every bone in my body. I grimaced up at his chuckling figure and reached up my hand for help up. He kept laughing as I brushed myself off. Who knows what's happened on this floor.

I shuddered at the thought. Even if I wasn't a notorious neat freak, I'd still be disgusted by Peter's room. Candy wrappers, dirty napkins, smelly clothes and god-knows-what-else covered the floor. And don't even get me started on the closet. I've only been inside once, when he shoved me in there against my will. I smelled sour milk and something very similar to decomposing flesh the second I took a breath. Breathing through my nose wasn't any better; I could taste the stench. Never doing that again, thank you.

Peter's voice broke through my memory. "What?" I asked.

"I asked if it was another bad dream. You feel okay?" His brow furrowed in concern.

I nodded. "Bad one; I woke up shaking again."

"Remember what it was about?"

"No, I wish I could." Lies. I don't like lying to Peter, but I really didn't feel like sharing my disturbing nightmares with him. Some things you have to keep to yourself.

I sank down against the wall, suddenly exhausted. I closed my eyes and felt Peter sliding down next to me. Feeling his fingers stroke my hair comfortingly, I immediately relaxed.

"You're sure you're fine?" he asked again. I could hear the unease in his voice.

My eyelids fluttered open, and I gave a reassuring smile. "'Course I am. I'm a little tougher than a little nightmare, you know. Or have you been underestimating me?"

He smirked. "Maybe a little."

I smirked back. "And why is that?"

"You're a little too cocky for your level of skill, if you know what I mean."

"And who's the one who's lost our last two battles?" I asked, cupping my hand to my ear. "Oh, I know, Peter Michaelson!"

He stepped closer, attempting to intimidate me. It wasn't working too well, since I know he wouldn't hurt a fly. "Are you trying to bruise my ego?"

"It could use a little bruising, if you know what I mean." I sneered at him, pushing him back by the shoulders.

"You could use a little bruising," he chuckled at his own joke as he shoved me a little harder.

"Is that a threat? Do I need to inform my lawyer?" He snorted at me, and I feigned hurt. "Why don't you ever take me seriously anymore? Am I not respectable enough?"

"I have no respect for you anymore, I want a divorce. I mean, I know I'm in the wrong here; at least partly. That's what I get for marrying an ex-prostitute." He said this entirely serious. Well, until he busted into a laughing fit. Which in turn caused me to have a laughing fit. Soon enough we were out of breath on his floor, rolling in all the filth.

This is the reason I go to him after my nightmares, and not one of my girl-friends. He knows how to have fun.

Once we got our breathing under control and propped ourselves up against the wall again, the conversation turned to Elm.

"So," I began, "what do you think he's working on in there? He's been held up inside for days."

Peter understood who I was talking about at once. "Who knows? Last time I went over to visit he didn't even say hi, just grunted whenever I said something."

"Was Joy there?" I asked, thinking of the perky, pink haired nurse who's been pining over our dear Professor for the last six months.

"Duh," he chuckled, rolling his brown eyes. "Poor thing. She could get any guy in town, and she goes after ELM. I mean, he's a genius and all, and a great mentor, but he's not too smooth with the ladies."

"He's so oblivious to it! I mean, you'd think he'd realize after six months of her hanging around after-hours watching him study that she wants more than friendship."

He threw back his head and a little too loudly, shaking his jet black hair as he did.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, nothing," he lowered his voice a bit. "It's just that-"

Loud, blaring sirens cut off the rest of his sentence. I let out a scream while Peter jumped to his feet. He reached down and jerked me up to my feet. Suddenly very serious, he flung open his bedroom door and jerked me through down the stairs. We flew down the flight before his family members could come lagging out of their corresponding rooms. It'd be an awkward scene if we were caught in his bedroom at two something a.m. His brother may or may not have seen us soaring out of the house and into the night, but he was probably to hung-over to register anything other than his migraine.

Once outside there was no hesitating. Our feet pounded against the empty concrete streets on the way to Elm's lab. The siren only meant one thing, a break-in.

If we got there and his research was missing...Well, let's just hope that didn't happen.

New Bark Town citizens started pouring out of their homes to see what the hell was worth waking them up so early. I could catch parts of conversations coming from the sidewalk as I sprinted to keep up with Peter's long strides down the center of the rode.

"What the flying-"

"I hope that crack-job has a good reason for setting off that damn alarm at two o'clock in the damn morning."

Ignoring the hateful comments, we kept dashing down the street until we reached the laboratory, a big brick building twice the size of any normal lab. We ignored the crowd growing out front and ran around to the little known back door behind the lab. As we ducked inside, I noted that the window was shattered.

"Elm?" Peter called. We glanced around until we noticed him, sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. Joy hung back, seeming to be debating with herself about comforting him or not. She inched forward and patted his shoulder and whispered something in his ear while he shook his head.

"Elmy?" I whispered as we got closer. Peter shoved my shoulder and rolled his eyes.

He sat up as we approached eyes bloodshot and looking ten years older than he did yesterday. He tried to give us a polite smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Hey, kids."

"Did someone break in?" Peter asked, gesturing to the shards of glass all over the floor. Elm looked bleakly up at Joy, and she spoke for him.

"By the time we got here, the thief had gotten what he needed and jumped back out the window. We only got a fleeting look at him. He looked…disturbed," the nurse said. "He only-"

Whatever she was about to say was cut off by a soft knocking on the door, and the entrance of a thirty-something police Officer I recognized to be Jenny. "Elm," she said, but it didn't sound like a question.

"Officer," he replied nervously. Elm never was a nervous man. Whatever was stolen was obviously important.

"I understand there was a break in. I have a few routine questions I have to ask to give us a fair chance at catching the criminal."

"Of course," Joy answered politely.

"Did you see the intruder? Describe him or her."

This time it was Elm who spoke up. "Only for a second or two, but I got a good look at him. His hair was about the same shade as Nora's over there, but of course shorter, and it looked like he used an entire bottle of gel for it. Black jacket, purple shirt, and a pair of jeans. He looked at least 6'foot, and had these grey eyes…Scary eyes. He looked like he'd kill you if he had half a chance."

Jenny nodded, taking notes. "Okay, what exactly did he steal?"

Elm sighed deeply, and then responded, "Three Pokémon. They were very important in the research I was doing… A Sneasle, a Cyndiquil, and a Stantler. I guess it'll have to be postponed until further notice…"

"Professor, I'll be honest with you. It's only fair. Our forces will try our very best to keep an eye out for the culprit, and whatever accomplices he may have. But chances of finding him are slim, it's a big region, and he could be anywhere. We know nothing of his whereabouts or what kind of malicious groups he could be associated with. I'm very sorry though. We'll notify you immediately if anything turns up."

"We completely understand," Joy said. "Thank you."

"It's no problem. Good evening, everyone." And with that she slipped out of the lab and into the dark.

There was a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, in which Peter stared at his shoes, Elm breathed deeply, Nurse Joy patted his shoulder in condolence, and I awkwardly looked around the office, trying to think of something comforting to say.

Finally, I cleared my throat and said sadly, "I'm really sorry, Professor. If there was anything we could do…"

"We'd do it." Peter finished. "We know how important this was to you."

Elm exhaled noisily and looked up at us. "I know kids, thank you for-"

Unexpectedly, he stopped in the middle of the sentence, staring at something behind us. I looked around and saw nothing interesting, just the monochrome colors of his office. Turning back around, I realized the look on his face was his 'mad scientist with a brilliant idea' look.

Whenever he got that look, which was rare, the outcomes where always either

A-Major trouble.

B-A minor explosion.

Or C-Super Major trouble.

Whichever way, we're in trouble.

Thank you for reading! (: If you could write a little review I'd love it. Thanks(: