The two of you lie on your backs upon the grassy knoll and stare up at the sky, fingers loosely linked as you try to point out the patterns in the trails of stars.
Look, she exclaims, a hand outstretched as though attempting to brush the clouds; she points at the swath of pinpricked white superimposed over the cobalt skies, and when you turn to look at her, her eyes are filled with the light of stars, with breathless wonder. Is that Lugia's Tail?
The scent of the night is strong upon the breeze, bringing with it the sweet fragrance of clover, of lily of the valley and midnight dew; the evening is still young, you try to convince yourself, and even though you had to stand beneath her room window for what seemed like forever to lob pebbles at the stubborn glass, it was worth every second spent shivering in her garden.
Don't know. Your response is brusque, and takes you by surprise; you are discomfited by the note of exasperation that enters your voice; she picks up on it immediately and half-turns to face you, narrowed hazel eyes meeting your own.
Is something wrong?
No, nothing. You lie through your teeth, lie so that one day, it'll sting less to see those same hazel eyes bright with the light of betrayal, of disbelief. Just enjoy the scenery, won't you?
You hold your breath when she frowns at you, faint lines furrowing her brow; then she nods, and smiles faintly, draws her hand away to toy with the ribbon on the unnecessarily large white hat which pillows her head.
I wish I got to do this every night, she laughs almost wistfully, and then it is your turn to stare at her, to soundlessly mouth the question which rises to your lips.
Do what?
Lie on hills, watch the sky, chew on blades of grass, feel the wind in my hair, to just enjoy being outside, without being beset by overzealous trainers.
To just have a chance to gather my thoughts until the next crisis.
Next crisis? you echo dryly, but she continues almost as though you never spoke, as though you are a ghost.
It's okay, you don't have to worry about keeping secrets from me. Her lips are arched into a wry curve, and she laces her fingers beneath her head, surveying you through half-lidded eyes.
I know who you are, really. Who you're related to. I might have had to shut your inheritance down, but…I had to do it. For…for the greater good.
Whatever vague notions of a future together you may have entertained evaporate from the back of your mind; you blink once, and she is gone, a memory of what may be, what could have been.
You lean back against the roots of the tree and smile your bitter, twisted smile, the same smile she has seen several times, of veiled mockery and a sliver of wistfulness. The sound of your own voice shatters the illusion even more surely than anything else could have done.
"No more running around underground in Team Rocket's stuffy headquarters for me," you say aloud.
endnotes. Also written for poképrompts on LJ, and the weekly blitz 'fresh air'. Standard disclaimers apply, etc etc.
