Here we are again. I was searching through my writing space on my hard drive, trying to hunt out a missing piece of information regarding a different story, when I happened upon this half-completed fic. Being in a writerly mood, I felt that it was my personal responsibility to finish this, because I grew to really like Brendan whilst writing him, and, looking back, the ending didn't really seem to do him justice. SO. This is a sequel-of-sorts to The Man Who Can't Be Moved. This means spoilers for those of you who haven't read it... not to mention potential incomprehensibility. It is a one-shot. This is my way of providing closure for the guy who was too sweet for me (and others) to hate.

I should note that this story is not as explicitly tied to the song in the title as TMWCBM is. You are welcome to play the song in the background, but I didn't exactly write it with the same mindset as I usually do when matching stories to music. Personally, I don't think they properly match. My suggestion here is Islands by Young the Giant, just because I think it's a lovely and subdued background song. Also, I did my best to maintain certain writing conventions that I utilized in TMWCBM, but my attitude towards them is shifting; I don't think I will write out both pokespeech and the translation ever again, but in order for that cohesion, I maintained it here. It's up to you to tell me whether this feels like a proper sequel, though.

All these technicalities aside, I hope you enjoy the story, as I have missed writing for you all.

DISCLAIMER: Nothing has ever changed. I'm not going to claim to be Satoshi Tajiri. That would be silly. So clearly this isn't my property. And, for old time's sake, I'm not a member of The Script, either, so the titular song isn't mine.

Breakeven

Flurried flakes of snow fluttered down from an opaque sky, coming to rest atop a hat as white as they themselves were. The wearer of the hat, one Brendan Birch, shivered, drawing his collar up around the back of his neck. This was not his smartest move, and he bit back a curse as snow tipped down his shirt, melting onto his back. Still, he reasoned, his neck would now be protected from further cold. Brendan yanked a glove off with his teeth, then wiped snowflakes from his eyelashes. Peering into the distance, he sighed in relief. Up ahead, the lights of Snowpoint City were reflecting off of the swirling blizzard, creating a hazy, comforting glow. Nearly there.

Brendan's hand drifted out of his pocket to his belt, automatically feeling for the Pokeball he knew to be at his hip. He knew he didn't have to worry, that his pokemon was securely fastened to his belt, but he was still not used to carrying around a teammate again. Swampert had been taking a well-deserved vacation from battling that December, helping Professor Birch capture shellos for his research while his master spent time at their home in Petalburg. This vacation was supposed to continue for a few more months, allowing Brendan some time to relax as well.

Still, it was high time they got back to a strict training regimen, he had told his father once the boat docked in Canalave City. And so the pair trekked up north to Snowpoint, for both the advantage of tough pokemon to battle against, and because Brendan had a personal principle that all Christmases, if at all possible, should be white ones.

"W-w-w-ell, we'll b-be g-g-getting one of th-those, n-now, w-won't we?" he mumbled grimly, marching into the outskirts. A snowstorm had been rushing along northern Sinnoh for half an hour, and already the drifts on the southern end of the route were threatening to cut Snowpoint off from the rest of the world for the holidays. Brendan once again thanked whatever higher powers controlled his life that he had not procrastinated that morning before setting out along Route 217. He shivered to think of what might have happened if he had been trapped out in the snow, with only a water-type pokemon by his side… or perhaps that was just because of the biting wind blowing down his collar. Grimacing, Brendan shook the snow off his shoulders and strode forward with renewed speed, the storm intensifying in his wake.

At long last, Brendan managed to shuffle into the Center, stomping both to shake the snow off and to get his blood running again. The Nurse Joy watched him from behind the front desk, brow furrowed in mild concern.

"Just how bad is it out there?" she inquired, glancing behind him at the glass doors and the raging blizzard.

Brendan shook out his hat, releasing a flurry of half-melted snowflakes. "Ohh, it's b-b-bad," he replied, running numb fingers through his hair, trying to reestablish circulation and prevent his hair from freezing in one fell swoop. "D-d-do you b-by any chanc-c-e hav-ve a-"

"A room? Oh, of course, here, let me help you!" Joy cut him off, realizing that she had a half-frozen Pokemon trainer on her hands. "Do you prefer hot chocolate or coffee?" she asked briskly, hurrying around the counter to an array of heated carafes.

"Cof-f-f-ffee's f-fine," he replied, remaining on the doormat so as not to drip onto the Center's linoleum floors.

In what seemed like both no time at all and a tortuous eternity, Nurse Joy had Brendan set up on a sofa, wrapped up in a thick blanket. Cupping his mug of coffee between his hands, Brendan watched as she called a magmar over to stoke the fire.

"We don't really have many trainers out here this time of year," she explained, sitting in an armchair across from him with a mug of her own. "Most tend to head back home for the holidays, or at least go somewhere warm." She smiled uncertainly at Brendan, whose numb face prevented much more than a weak half-smile in return. Apparently encouraged, the nurse continued.

"I don't necessarily mean to pry, exactly," she began, and Brendan internally winced; anything ever prefaced with 'I don't mean to pry' was usually followed by an exceptionally nosy investigation, "but I suppose I do have to ask as to why you seem to have specifically come here. I mean, the trainers who are already here were either stuck up here and don't want to get trapped in the snow for Christmas, or they're, oh, you know, die-hards, trainers whose next badge happens to be the Icicle and they certainly aren't going to let anything get in their way, be it a snowdrift or a holiday. But, see, then there's you. From the looks of it, you only have one pokemon on you, right? That swampert you gave me?" Joy waited for Brendan's mute nod before pressing on.

"I mean, I'm not trying to judge or anything… I'm a nurse at a Pokemon Center, we see some very out-of-the-way sort of things here, but you do realize that it sounds sort of… strange? Just you and a water type, out in the snow? You could have died! You could have tripped in the snow and not gotten up and just frozen to death!"

There was a clacking sound as Nurse Joy set her mug down on a table with undue force. "You aren't even from around here, I can't even place your accent-"

"Hoenn," Brendan interjected. "Petalburg, Hoenn, actually."

The nurse blinked confusedly. "You're from Hoenn? Then why on earth are you way out here in Snowpoint?" she asked, clearly bewildered.

Brendan shrugged, tilting back his mug for the last drops of warmth. "I just think that Christmases should be white," he replied simply.

"Well, sure, but… well, I mean to say, aren't you a bit young-"

"I'm eighteen, actually. And I have badges in a couple regions."

"Ohh… I see…"

Brendan grimaced. Yet another instance of people seeing him as some snot-nosed kid. It was seriously getting on his nerves. He composed himself, then gently set his empty mug down on an end-table. "Do you have a room I could use?" he asked politely.

Joy nodded, standing and heading towards the desk. "Of course we do," she said over her shoulder, sounding a mix of mollified and respectful. "Go on up whenever you're ready. Would you like your swampert back once he's fully healed?"

Brendan considered it. Was he really ready to face his pokemon? And yet... "Yes, that would be great, thanks... Actually, I think I would like to go up to my room now. Thank you for the coffee."

The snowstorm still raged outside the window. Brendan lay in the bed's lower bunk, inhaling the strange, sterile air of a clean Pokemon Center room and watching the storm progress. Small piles of snow collected on the window ledges. Brendan smiled. Now this is a Christmas. Perhaps we'll be snowed in. He frowned, sitting up and narrowly missing hitting his head on the bunk above him. This Center does have emergency power, doesn't it? If we were snowed in... No. He relaxed, allowing his head to fall back onto the pillow. No, these people have lived here for years. They'll have procedures for being snowed in.

We'll be fine. Just me and Swampert.

Brendan bit his lip. I still haven't told him why we're all the way up here, and so suddenly. I just... I-

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Hastily, he sat up, this time smacking his head on the bed above him. "Oww, uh, who is it?"

"Are you alright?" The inquiry was muffled through the door, but Brendan could still hear concern in the voice.

"Yeah... Just hit my head on the bunk, I'm fine." By this time, he had rolled out of bed. Opening the door, Brendan found Nurse Joy, holding up a Pokeball.

"Your pokemon is all set," she said, pressing the ball into his hands. "Breakfast is from seven to ten tomorrow morning. Did you eat dinner?"

"Er... Yes," he lied, aware that he had food in his pack and needed privacy to talk with Swampert. "Right, seven to ten. Thank you so much, Nurse Joy. I do appreciate it."

She smiled brightly. "That's what I'm here for! If you need anything, I'll be down at the desk. Stay warm!" With that, she bustled off down the hallway towards the stairs.

Brendan sighed, closing his door. He flicked on the lights, wincing at their fluorescent brightness. "Hey, Swampert, come on out," he mumbled, releasing his starter. The materialized pokemon stretched noisily, pointedly. Brendan sighed. "Yeah, I know, I didn't let you come with me on the route, but it was too cold for you, being cold-blooded and all."

He went to his pack, pulling out a few containers. "Care for some dinner?"

They ate their cold travel meals in silence. Brendan ate slowly, trying to put off the conversation. He took extra care in clearing away the food mess, ostensibly as a courtesy to the nurse, but really just to buy more time. He reached for the last resealable package, only to find his pokemon seated in front of it, looking stern.

"Swaaamp." Brendan.

"Er, excuse me, please, I need to finish cle-"

"Swampert, pert pert swam." You're avoiding me. We need to talk.

"About what?"

The pokemon's back fin vibrated; Swampert was losing patience.

"Okay, okay, I get it... I haven't really told you anything, about why we're here, or why I pulled you out of Dad's research project." Swampert stared at Brendan, orange eyes betraying nothing.

Brendan cleared his throat. "Which is why," he continued, aware of his throat constricting ever so slightly, "which is why we are having this talk. It's because it's not fair to keep you in the dark. You've been there with me this long, you deserve to know what's troubling me. It's just..." Brendan swallowed again, trying to force back the lump that was threatening to rise in his throat. "I was stupid," he mumbled, unable to raise his voice much higher than a whisper, fearing what might happen if he did.

He leaned against the base of the bunk bed. His pokemon's eyes never left his face. It was becoming unnerving. Brendan was suddenly sharply aware of what a marvelous predator his swampert might have been as a wild pokemon, and still was, in ways; his orange eyes never seemed to blink, transfixing his owner. Not that his owner planned on running, not now. He had to talk about it, had to open up to someone. Now, he felt, was the time.

"You remember May, right?" Of course Swampert remembered May; she had been one of the first people the pokemon had met as a mudkip towards the beginning of his and Brendan's journey. An image of May tentatively patting the small blue pokemon on the head flickered in Brendan's mind, but he pushed the thought away. "She's grown up now, quite a bit since you last saw her. Still wears her hair the same way though." May in a green bandana, May smiling, May's hair whipping about her face in the wind, all raced past Brendan's eyes. "She's a coordinator, actually. Heh, I remember being so disappointed when I heard she'd changed her mind about being a trainer. I'd always hoped she'd maybe get more used to pokemon, maybe, I dunno, maybe travel with me. It... It could have been fun..." He trailed off, wondering if he might escape. Then, he made the mistake of staring straight into his Swampert's eyes.

Brendan wanted to look away from the pokemon's unyielding gaze, to glance at the snow, at his watch, at his hands, but it was no use. The flat orange eyes held his red ones, and he had no choice but to continue. "I've always been her friend. I may not have been around that much lately, but I'd be at her side in a heartbeat, if she needed me. She was one of the best parts of growing up in Petalburg, and..." He swallowed again, wishing he could stare at his shoes to say what came next, yet still he was unable to tear his gaze away.

"I..." He began slowly, then suddenly, a wave of emotions swept him up in an internal whirlpool, and he was explaining everything, all of it. "I've cared about May for as long as I can remember, and aside from my family and my pokemon, she's about the most important person in my world. I would do anything for her. I think, I thought, I think I loved her. Maybe I still do, I do still do, but she's my friend, and I tried to be something more, and she... She..."

His voice was slowing down, the waterspout of words was falling back into the ocean in his heart. He had been wrong; admitting this part would hurt the most. He stared, almost glared defiantly into the flat orange eyes of his partner, his captor, his best friend. "She didn't choose me. She loves someone else."

And with those words, Brendan felt the first tears dripping down his face. A knot of shame burned inside him, and he flung up his arms, pulling his legs inwards. He sat at the side of his bed on the cold tile floor and cried as quietly as he could. He hadn't cried. He had told himself he wouldn't, that it was pointless, that it would solve nothing. And yet the bitterness and the pain had grown up inside him, choking him, demanding an answer, justice, satisfaction. And so he cried.

As he cried, Brendan became aware of soft slapping sounds, coming close to him. Suddenly, his curled frame was wrapped in a cold, reptilian embrace.

"Swaaaamp." Shhhh.

Brendan became aware of himself being rocked back and forth. His breaths became ragged as crying gave over to sobbing. His eyes only showed him the tear-distorted scales that patterned his starter's chest.

Slowly yet surely, the boy's tears subsided. Sensing this, the pokemon released him. Brendan, embarrassed, wiped a few stray tears away with the back of his hand.

"Pert swaaam. Swaam, wam perrt." Don't be ashamed. Come on, get off this cold floor.

With some nudging from his pokemon, Brendan pulled himself up onto the bunk. He leaned against the wall, legs dangling over the edge. Swampert followed, seating himself next to his trainer, the fins on his head brushing the top bunk.

Brendan stared at his hands, folding and unfolding them. Details began spilling out of him, somehow easier to relate now that his loss had been put out in the open. He told Swampert about how he had found May crying in the treehouse their fathers had built for them, back when they were children. He explained how he had taken her out to lunch, then watched a movie with her, and then, haltingly, how he had asked to take her out to dinner at the end of that week, as a first 'real' date.

"This was on that weekend a few weeks back, when Dad went back home for the family reunion, remember? And then... It was that night, that night that she... She decided..." Brendan angrily swiped at his eyes with a sleeve, driving away the tears that still leaked out. "The boy that she ended up with won her over that night. She wrote me a note saying how something came up and she had to leave... I still have it." He slipped his hand into his jacket, reaching for the breast pocket of his shirt. He pulled out the crumpled piece of paper, which he had re-read more times than he wanted to admit. "Well... At l-least she s-s-said sh-she was sorry," he choked out against the pressure in his throat, the tears trickling hotly down his face.

Swampert sighed, rubbing a flipper along Brendan's arm. When his master had calmed sufficiently, he tentatively asked, "Swaaam pert swamp?" Do you think she lied to you?

"I... I don't think so. I think she liked me."

"Perrt wam swam swamp." But she didn't love you like you loved her.

"Well, yeah, I mean, obviously. What's your point here?" Brendan turned eyes which were redder than usual upon his companion. "Swampert, the girl I care most about in the world doesn't love me back, and I'm happy that she's happy, but, I mean, I don't know what to do with myself here! How am I supposed to pick up the pieces when I don't know what to glue them together with?"

Brendan sighed. "I know there are other girls. Just... It's so hard. I feel so alone."

Suddenly, the pokemon embraced his trainer, wrapping blue flippered hands around his friend's torso. Though he said no words, a quiet hum emanated from Swampert, and he held his master close, and easing him into a lull. Brendan smiled, touched by his pokemon's attempt to console him, and allowed the makeshift white noise to ease his mind into slumber.

As Brendan drifted closer to sleep, he gradually realized what his pokemon meant. "Swampert?" he mumbled groggily, leaning on his pokemon's shoulder.

"Pert?" Yes?

"You're right... Even though you didn't say it." Brendan gently disentangled himself from his pokemon and shoved his legs under the bedcovers, gesturing sleepily for his pokemon to remain on the bed. As he closed his eyes, the trainer mumbled, "I'm not alone... When I have my family near."

And with that, the boy's breathing slowed, and he fell into a deep sleep. His Pokemon curled between his master and the wall, ready to aid his friend, and slept as well. A peaceful smile graced both faces as they drifted through peaceful dreams, safe from the snowstorm, safe from the horrors of the world, safe because they had each other.

Merry Christmas to you all, whenever and wherever you are.

Well, I think that went well. Then again, it's been more than a year since I wrote TMWCBM. I've changed, and how I see characters has changed.

Did you like it? Did you feel like this is an unlikely departure from the established personality I formed for Brendan last year? Did I perhaps win you over to sympathize with him? Please review and tell me about how you feel about this fic. Similarly, if there are errors, please, do tell me. I can't improve as a writer if my imperfections aren't underlined in red pen.

I miss you all. Thanks to all of you for reading this fic, and for reading and reviewing TMWCBM. I'm sort of falling back into a writing groove, so who knows? Perhaps I'll start posting stories again with a bit more frequency.

Cheers, paz, and all that jazz,

CarpeDiemEveryday