Oreburgh Mine is Sinnoh's only remaining source of coal and, as such, serves as its main source of electricity alongside Floaroma's countless wind turbines. It contains enough resources for years to come, but what may be more interesting to the casual tourist (or occasional Gym challenger) visiting the region is the rare presence of fossils in its rocks waiting to be discovered under the surface coats of black ore.

Because of its prevalence in Sinnoh's energy field, the mine requires constant functioning. In turn, this means there must be someone who oversees every little thing going on in the mine: the foreman, who is always up, always available, always dependable. In case something is to go wrong, the protocol and ruleset behind the mine's functioning dictates the presence, at all times, of a substitute foreman. However, the noise going around the Oreburgh Mine says otherwise: the substitute is never seen, always clouded in the shadows of the titular foremen's iron health. And what characters these foremen seem to have been ever since the mine opened: someone working in this field would joke that their previous foreman eventually became Canalave City's Gym Leader, a figure the entire region of Sinnoh now holds as a mighty force to reckon with.

The following and current foreman is the youngest they've had yet, at least, according to the official records of the mine's personnel. Byron, this very former foreman, used to bring his son to the mine from time to time since the latter was a child. The guy has almost been there since the beginning of his existence: some of the eldest miners remembered seeing a newly born Roark, eighteen years before. It was as if he was born with a pickaxe in his hands, already excavating fossils when he was in elementary school, under the endeared eyes of other young fathers working there. What was once a way the miners teased Byron, "your son's gonna replace you before we all know it", eventually became reality.

Nobody was really surprised when the boy, the eighteen-year-old boy mind you, was picked by Byron as his successor. It was as if they had always been around Roark, and it had "only" been a bit more than a decade, but the transition felt natural. It didn't mean he didn't remain in the shadow his father, foreman for twenty years before him, to whom the miners were all attached, and some considered him their own father, in a way.

As to the substitute foreman, they are still as absent as they were under Byron's supervision: aside from the one time where he got injured, the miners have always had to refer to him for guidance. As a result, the legendary question "where do you think the sub could be right now?" isn't a real question anymore, having become more of a private joke amongst the miners. Usually, the reply's intellectual level doesn't skyrocket to the seventh sky, more often than not perfectly content with being low and dirtier than the mines, but the intention has never been to be clever about it. It's cheap humour, shared around people with similar senses of what's funny or not.

Nobody could have foretold this would be the way they'd ever notice something was wrong with their respected authority figures.

It's on a warm summery day of early June that Luke asks Tim the legendary question, "where is the sub foreman, right now?". Knowing this is a dare to find the funniest response to it in the least amount of time possible, his colleague replies with the dry and effective "In the former boss's Gym, exactly where he lost to a dumb-looking Gastrodon". Proud of his reply, whose quality is obviously indicated by the laugh Luke represses inside his mouth, Tim shoots his foreman a glance… only to have no response.

"Boss," Tim calls out to him, finding the complete lack of response weird, "ya heard me? Ya dad lost to a Gastrodon of everything. A Gastrodon! How ridiculous is that?"

"Oh, right," the foreman responds with delay, "riiiight. Gastrodon. Canalave Gym." He forces a snicker out of his mouth. "Good one."

"How's the Gym going?" Luke asks. It's been ages since he's taken a break in the Gym. He's pretty sure that, the last time he ate lunch there, his daughter hadn't left on her journey throughout Sinnoh yet.

"It's going… decently, I guess. I broke my latest lose streak yesterday…"

Luke and Tim look at each other, eyes shining with the same aura. The former shoots another look at Roark while the second one orders their Machops to work a bit on their own for now. Once they both thumb up each other, they get closer just so they can speak about stuff their foreman shouldn't hear them talking about; or rather, what they don't want their foreman to hear. It's not like it's that weird of a talking matter, right?

"There's clearly something wrong about him," Luke tells him in a whisper. "He's usually not that quiet."

"He may just be tired, dude," Tim replies, almost shrugging off Luke's worried expression, albeit there's this little something nagging him in the back of his mind. "The boy's also a Gym Leader and whatnot, he's probably just tired of managing two things at once when he's barely an adult."

"I swear he's usually the first to make jokes about how busy his life is. He doesn't even bother with our jokes today!"

"Your dad instincts are playing again. This isn't your daughter we're speaking about, it's the boss. Byron's blood runs in his veins, he's fine."

Tim still looks at their foreman. His own face doesn't seem as confident in his beliefs as before.

"On second thought, he does look a bit weird. He's a bit slow too, no?"

"Right? The sub's not here though, so he can't entirely leave us without having another foreman to make sure it's secure. Not that we wouldn't be able to manage on our own, but y'know, protocols and stuff."

"I don't want to interrupt you on purpose, but I think he's looking this way. Let's get back to work and discuss that after lunch."

"Copy that."

While he mines, Tim stumbles upon what looks like a fossil, a weird one of that. He's never seen one like that before, almost feeling like he's discovered a new species of Pokemon. He's also certain he's just vastly uneducated in the domain (he's a miner, not a scientist), so he shouts his researcher of a husband passing right behind him a glance.

"Hey, Mark, come check out that fossil I've just found! I don't think I've seen one like that before."

The scientist walks to the rock and examines it carefully with his gloves and glasses, fully focused on it, not even bothering to verbally reply to him. Things just got to be like that, sometimes.

"It's a Helix Fossil. They're usually found in Kanto, but there are some in the Underground, although it's rare to find such a big one in a mine like this one."

"What about we tell the boss? I'm sure he's going to lose it once he sees it!"

Mark gently puffs at this remark, a smirk on his lips. "I'll let you get him, then."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice before he leaves to find his foreman, heading to another part altogether of the mine, where the latter is making sure the Machops trained to dig alone do their job correctly and safely. While heading down there, however, he is sure he can hear some weird sounds. Pants? It'd be weird for someone to be working this hard in such a deep part of the mines, otherwise there'd be no reason for these Machops to be trained to extract coal and fossils there. Maybe he's just confused, maybe he just hears sounds that aren't there. He just hopes it's not an Aron ravaging their iron installations.

As always, finding Roark and his signature red hat isn't very difficult. He's the only one wearing such a thing around Oreburgh, as a way to distinguish him from other miners (with their own generic yellow helmets). Tim manages to quickly reach his foreman and the spot where, sure enough, Pokemons are working all around him.

"Boss, I found something real cool! Come check it out!" he screams in echoes, getting the unwanted attention of the tiny horde of Machops.

"What is it…?" a weak, almost faint voice replies to him. For a strange and unknown reason, Roark's helmet is incorrectly put on his head, distinguishably more on the left side than the right, completely going against his policy of making sure everyone was safely equipped and in proper working conditions. Isn't a lack of security and the potential injuries what Roark hates the most? Is he just that confused about everything today?

"I've found a very rare fossil according to Mark, so I thought I should at least tell you so you can check it out later for yourself."

"Works for me… Oh, while you're here, can you check out on the other miners for me a bit? Tell them I'll check up on them once I'm done here…"

"Ya got it, Boss."

"Thank you…"

And just like that, Tim finally gets what Luke meant earlier and feels utterly stupid for not having noticed it all sooner. He really feels like asking him if he's alright, if he needs help with anything; but alas, Tim has a job to fulfil and the boss probably dislikes getting pestered during his work with personal, borderline intimate, questions. Well, it's not like he's had to ask him such a thing before… Once again, the boy's probably just tired and was focused on whatever he was doing. Tim's still a bit hesitant to get to his previous working spot, but he still makes his way there, shaking his head at any intrusive thought this could give him. He's a miner, not a doctor.

Tim almost lets out a yelp of surprise when he feels something grab his leg. He looks at what could possibly be clutching for his pants, unsure of what to make of it: it's a Geodude. He instantly knows this cannot be just any wild Geodude, or even any Geodude used by a fellow miner: this one has a fluorescent band wrapped around its right arm, a sure sign this is Roark's Pokemon without a mistake. He's… not sure if he wants to know why this guy's here and wants to do something with him.

Even with his doubts in mind, Tim kneels down to the Geodude's level.

"What's up, big guy?" (He tries to sound casual, but it sounds fake.)

Geodude points to the back of this section of the mine with its other arm, its face void of its usual anger, replaced with worry, alerted cries coming out of its mouth. What can it possibly be worried for? Let's just say Tim really doesn't want to know now, if he ever wanted to in the first place.

"You want me to follow you there?"

The Geodude jumps around a bit, letting go of his pants, before starting to make its way to where they both come from. Tim, with a shuddering breath, decides to follow: he knows where this is going – how could he not know –, but there's still a pit forming in his stomach. However, there's this little something which keeps growing bigger and bigger that tells him he needs to follow the Geodude because he's the true adult of the situation, the responsible and dependable one and that, if he runs away from the situation, he'll be the scum of the never-stopping earth.

He decides to run back there instead of walking, disregarding one of the essential rules Roark likes to enforce from time to time. On the way there, he notices the specially-trained Machops look panicked, just like the Geodude he's following, if not even more lost than Tim himself is in the situation. He wonders what could have possibly happened to Roark: has he gotten himself injured? Has he found death between the rocks? Arceus, if he has, they're all fucked for the next century. They'll probably all get fired too. And the boy's way too young to die!

He doesn't realize he's crossing fingers as he makes his way there.

The Geodude, unfortunately yet sombrely obviously, brings him where he spoke to his boss barely minutes ago. In the dimly-lit mine, he keeps hearing sounds he shouldn't have been able to listen to coming from a human: pants, maybe a light cough, what eerily sounds like wheezes. The more he advances, the quicker his mind wants to flee, but the quickest is still his legs pressing forward. His mind may be making it up, but he still very much knows this isn't just his imagination anymore.

He stops right in his track as the Geodude goes next to a person lying on the floor, face towards the ground. This… can't be happening. His adult fears do indicate him this cannot be a mere nightmare straight out of Luke's paternal instincts: this is real. As the adult man, the one who knows the mines because he's worked there for the last two decades or so, he is the one running to the lying body in fear of harm having been caused.

"Boss?!" he yells as he kneels next to the other man. "Hey, Boss, this ain't time to sleep! You gotta wake up, this is a freakin' mine!"

Tim puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes it off in an attempt to wake him up, in vain. He just knows Roark's alive, which is still very much welcome: he can hear his breathing, even if it's ragged and painful to listen to.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now…?" Tim speaks himself, truly wondering what he can do with an unconscious Roark, the latter's excavation kit, a Geodude and five autonomous Machops around him. Prioritize things, he then thinks, that'd be what Byron (and later on Roark, who's taken that after his father) would have told him in this situation. The pickaxe and the kit can wait but the panicked, disoriented Pokémon who could do some harm if left unattended can't. He just hopes the only idea he has will work…

His foot hits a lone Pokeball, causing it to roll on the floor. As he picks it up, recognizing a particular sticker, he finds a next of five others near it, all marked with a special sticker representing the Coal Badge on them. No mistaking to be had there.

"Geodude, come back, lil' guy," he speaks to himself as he points the ball towards the Pokémon, successfully calling him back. He's surprised that even worked, but he won't complain about this being easier than expected.

"Guys, you too, come back," he then says as he points each ball to the Machop group, once again ending in pure success. He puts everything away in a nearby bag, which he then puts on his shoulders. With that all done, it's one less anxiety on his chest; yet the biggest thorn is still there, firmly planted inside his chest.

It's with a pained look and an ache in his heart that Tim takes his foreman in his arms. The first thing he notices isn't his weight: it's the fact his clothes are damp, if not soaked, not unlike a miner after a long day of hard work, which really doesn't make much sense on face value. However, it's not like he doesn't have an explanation for it: it's been there, sitting in the back of his mind, since this very morning and his conversation with Luke.

The boy still feels incredibly light for a miner, even with age and experience taken into account: it may be him who's pretty strong to begin with, or the boy being a natural lightweight when he should have been a deadweight instead, or just both at the same time. He'll ask for the guys to go and recover the kit later: for now, there's something more urgent than recovering some mining tools, no matter how important they are to the foreman. He gets to his feet and start u-turning to where he came from.

It takes a painstakingly amount of time for him to make his way outside, as Tim feels like he's carrying a statue made from glass when, clearly, he shouldn't. The boy seems so fragile, so vulnerable and frail in the condition he's found himself in, in polar contrast to his father's legendarily unbeatable immune system or even his usual loads of energy. While he has the time to do so, Tim braces himself for everybody else's reactions: he just hopes it's not too bad, otherwise they'll have a ton of issues he can't even begin to imagine, and nobody wants to cause a coal lack in the entire region, not to mention none of them want harm to their foreman, for Arceus's sake!

That's when he realizes Luke's fatherly instincts were right to manifest themselves, this morning. Roark never complains about anything ever, not even about how fatigued he must be after a twelve-hour day spent split between foreman obligations and Leader duties. There's this other thing he tends to forget to, softly ringing in the back of his mind: Byron isn't around anymore. If he isn't mistaken, he's the only family member Roark still has, his mother having died years ago (he cannot remember when exactly, albeit he truly wishes he was good with memorizing dates now), meaning the boy has nobody to rely on if something goes wrong for him. Knowing how he never asks anything from anybody around in fear to bother them… This is resulting in terrible, potentially dangerous failures.

There's a chill going down the forty-year-old's spine.

However, Tim gets to remember it's already noon, and as such lunch time for everyone, when he reaches his usual working spot, exhumed fossil still proudly sitting in the wall. He sighs in relief: there is almost nobody around, all having left to eat, he presumes. Considering who he's carrying like a fireman, the less, the better. Unfortunately, the infirmary is already outside of the mines, meaning he must first walk past everyone else to bring their foreman where someone can say what exactly happened to him.

Luke spots him from the nearby entrance, first going to wave him a hand before freezing in his spot. A moment later, he runs to his colleague, face displaying anything but joy; and while Tim couldn't exactly describe what's on there with fancy words, he can surely say his friend looks utterly horrified.

"What the hell happened to him?!" Luke screams, eyes fixated on their unconscious foreman.

"I… don't know. I was telling him about the fossil discovery I had made, but as I left his Geodude grabbed my leg and made me follow it and, when I arrived, he was already knocked out… We'll discuss it later, man, we don't have time to waste, I have to bring him to the infirmary before there's anything else getting wrong with him."

Luke first nods, before putting a hand on his chin, opening his eyes wide, then changes his mind.

"Wait a sec, Tim. Can I check something real quick?"

Tim hesitates for a moment, just wanting to walk as quickly as possible to the nearest doctor, only to realize he knows what his friend is about to do, something which would answer their questions as worried semi-substitute dads. He then nods to his friend, a silent agreement like they're used to give each other, and Luke rises the foreman's helmet a little, putting the naked back of his hand on his forehead before muffling a hissing sound.

"That's what I thought. He's running one hell of a fever."

"I… kind of saw it coming, not gonna lie. I'm gonna bring him to Joy, just warn the others, 'kay? She'll take care of that better than we ever could."

"Roger that."

Tim isn't walking at the speed of a Dunsparce, now: no, he's running for someone else's life to their infirmary, silently apologizing to the boy for shaking him up this badly, hoping there's their usual doctor there. He can trust Joy to be there, right? She's always been there for them, generation after generation, she'll be there for their foreman too. She must be there. That's one unusual case for them all, he knows, so he hopes his hardest it'll all be fine by the end of the day. For this, they all need her to be there, as she's always been. Today can't be much different on that, right?

Honestly, he's afraid shitless when he kicks the door to knock, his hands obviously unavailable to do so. The pink-haired woman opens the door and she looks like she's going to scold the hell out of him for kicking the door (he wishes he had had another way to get her attention to said door), eyebrows frowned, arms crossed.

"Hello, Timothy. Can I know what makes you behave like a Growlithe all of a…" she starts to tell him before her voice comes to a halt.

As soon as she sees his face, then lowers her eyes, her face takes a sharp turn, snarky grin going all the way down.

"My Arceus, this isn't what I expected when I came to work today…" She opens the door wider, inviting him to enter. "Put him on the nearest bed, I'll see what I can do."

He executes her orders and, soon enough, they're both in the room, looking over the third person in the bed. After taking off the red helmet, he lets her examine his boss, more anxious than he's been in ages, as she silently works on him. The air is heavy between them, with nothing but breathing sounds and medical tools getting used to fill the deafening silence. Tim isn't the kind of get anxious, he's always been laid back compared to Mark and Luke, on the same level as Byron in terms of seeing life on the good side, living in the present.

"So, what's the problem?" he asks, voice trembling, trying his best to fill in the void acerbating his anxieties.

"It seems like exhaustion and overwork have caught up to him," she replies in a much calmer tone than his. "He should be all right as long as he rests for a few days."

"But…"

"Before you say it," her tone changes to something more… solemn. "I know Roark has a very busy life and probably can't afford many break days, especially since the summer rush is about to start. However, I can't let him go back to work when he's pushed himself to illness like this."

"Then, what are we supposed to do?"

"We'll have to see that as soon as possible. I'll have to call the substitute foreman by myself to justify his suddenly needed presence… Please go take your break, Timothy. Just tell the other miners about the situation, will you?"

"Sure thing. See ya later."

"See you."

He gets up from his chair, but as he leaves, he feels like there's something he still needs to tell her.

"Oh, Doctor, before I forget… Thank you."

She giggles back.

"No need to thank me, I'm just doing my job. Now go!"

Despite this lighter banter, Tim still can't shake the situation off his head as he walks to his friends and workmates, lost in thoughts, hoping someone finds a solution real fast unless they all want to get in some serious troubles. The less they see the director of Fuego Incorporated, the better, especially when Roark isn't here to discuss the matter with his own superiors.

Well… This is what he'd think would come to his mind first. Miners have this collective mindset, sometimes, when it comes to survival as a group and work conditions. In the end, it's silly of him to focus on such things like organization-related affairs he can't understand for his own sake. Deep down, he knows he's far more concerned for the little guy and his sickness than for money and profit and things of this calibre. They're just not concerned for such ideas: persons are whom they worry about.

Tim sits next to Mark and unpacks his lunch as he summarizes the situation, a work obviously already started by Luke, considering the faces of his workmates. Usually, they'd be trying to make each other laugh, to throw a bit of playful shade and good-willed banter each other's way; but this isn't how things are today. Everyone is strangely quiet, minds overrun by foreign thoughts. In this situation, two friends look at each other, the same idea coming to their heads at the same time.

The summery air of early June around them all suddenly feels heavy.