A quick warning: This story does contain homophobia targeted towards a character from a family member.

Phoebe was about seven the first time she saw a spirit—it was the spirit of an old woman who would come by at precisely 8:00 in the evening each day, and would smile at Phoebe through her bedroom window before moving on. After weeks of this ritual, Phoebe had pointed the spirit out to her mother, only to have her mother yank her out of bed and drag her to the telephone. Her mother had kept a tight grip on Phoebe's hand as she called Phoebe's grandmother, Deborah.

At that point in time, Phoebe hadn't met her grandmother. All she knew was that Deborah lived alone on Mt. Pyre, if one didn't count the many Pokemon and ghosts who also inhabited the mountain. But from that day on, she'd practically lived with the woman. It was necessary, or so she was told. Spirits were generally no trouble for the living, but Phoebe's grandmother firmly believed that Phoebe needed training as a medium. Spirits are attracted to power, Deborah would always say, and it's your responsibility to protect yourself.

Phoebe didn't really mind the training—it was comforting to know that Deborah could see spirits everywhere, too. Spirits lingered in the streets, weaving aimlessly through crowds of the living. They watched over loved ones, only to watch helplessly when things went wrong. Sometimes, upon realizing that Phoebe could actually see them, they would drift over to chat, their voices crackling with disuse.

Sometimes they would say things that frankly scared Phoebe into having nightmares, but usually it was pleasant. Still, there were occasional incidents that were frankly too much for Phoebe to handle. She wasn't bad at exorcisms, but sometimes the spirits were stronger. That was really the only limiting factor she knew. She'd never been outside of her home region for extended periods of time because she knew that if something went horribly wrong, she would want her grandmother close by.

Things were different now, but Phoebe still hadn't left the region. Different things tied her to Hoenn now, namely her duties as Elite Four. Her grandmother had barely crossed her mind over the past few years—in fact, she only thought about Deborah during their annual conversation, an event that Phoebe always dreaded.

But as Phoebe jolted from her trance with her heart pounding somewhere in the vicinity of her throat and sweat pouring down her back, she knew that something needed to change. With shaking hands, she pushed herself to her feet and put out the candles she used for meditation.

Something—she wasn't sure if who or what was more accurate—had been plaguing her recent visits to the other side, but she hadn't thought much of it until tonight, when the entity had tried to kill her.

She knew it was possible to die on the other side. Deborah had told her stories, to prevent her from making errors and to instill a healthy respect for the powers that be. She just never expected to almost experience death on the other side. She shivered at the thought. The others at the Hoenn League barely knew about the extent of her abilities—as far as they were concerned, she meditated frequently and occasionally talked with ghosts. She didn't even want to think about what might happen if they discovered her dead of seemingly unnatural causes.

She stumbled out of her room and knocked on Steven's bedroom door. It was late, but she knew he was probably still awake. And sure enough, she heard his voice, muffled by the door, telling her to enter.

She was grateful for the light of his room—she hadn't bothered to find the hallway lights and frankly after her most recent experience on the other side the dark spooked her. He set the book he'd been reading on his bedside table as she approached.

"What's wrong?" he asked, standing to greet her. His hands settled on her shoulders, and Phoebe tried to formulate a coherent response.

"I was…Spirit…nearly died…I'm scared. I-I think I need to see my grandmother. Can I stay for a bit?" Steven's brow furrowed. He clearly didn't understand her garbled story, but he gestured for her to sit down anyway.

"Can you repeat that?" he asked, once she'd wrapped herself in his comforter. Phoebe took a deep breath.

"I…You know I meditate, right?" she asked. "Of course you do. Um, I actually, kind of…cross over? To the other side?" She thought he took that knowledge pretty well, with onlyt a nod for her to continue. "And, um, something tried to kill me. I don't know who, or what, I guess, since I don't actually know if what tried to kill me was even a human spirit, since it could've been a Pokemon's spirit or even just a plain spirit, though I guess maybe plain isn't really the right word to put it? I mean, they're spirits that have always been spirits, but plain makes them sound minor or something. Oops, I'm rambling. Um, anyway, spirit tried to kill me while I was on the other side, and I'm a little freaked out right now." She pulled the comforter tighter around herself. "Not that you can do anything about it, because if the spirit wants to kill me there's not a whole lot you can do, but I just don't want to be alone right now."

"You can stay as long as you like," Steven said without hesitation. "Is there anyone who can actually help you?" Phoebe bit her lip.

"My grandmother," she said reluctantly. Steven winced. "It's probably okay, right? I just need to go talk to her, get this sorted out, and then I come back and everything's back to normal!" She offered him a smile, which quickly dimmed. "Can you come with me? I don't really want to go back by myself." To her relief, Steven nodded.

"We'll get everything sorted out," he said, kissing her forehead briefly. "Try to get some sleep; we'll call her in the morning. You're welcome to stay here, if you like." Phoebe thought of her darkened room, the room she'd nearly died in, and shook her head.

"Good night," she said, falling back so that she lay on top of his comforter. Steven shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and pulled the blanket out from under her.

"If you're going to take my spot, at least make yourself comfortable," he laughed. "Good night, Phoebs."

And so, in the morning, Phoebe flipped through her personal notes, trying to find her grandmother's phone number. It had been so long since she'd needed it that she wasn't really sure where it was. She eventually found it squished in the margins of the packet of information she'd received upon her acceptance as an Elite Four member.

"I can't do this," she whined to Steven even as she dialed the number into the League's landline phone. "What if this all goes horribly wrong? I can just…not go over to the other side, right? The odds of that spirit being able to cross over to our side is pretty small." Steven shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Phoebe, but that's not a risk I'm willing to take." He frowned. "If there was another way, then I'd pick that route. Are you sure you don't know any other mediums?" Phoebe shook her head.

"Nope. Grandma's the only one." Her finger hovered over the call button. "Well, here goes nothing, I guess!" She tapped her foot impatiently as the dial tone buzzed in her ear.

"Hello?" Phoebe gulped. "Who is this?"

"Um, hi, grandma," Phoebe said, twisting her skirt with her free hand. "It's me, Phoebe."

"Oh, Phoebe. It's nice to hear from you." Deborah's voice had shifted into the cool familiarity they had begun to use with each other on the few occasions they spoke.

"Grandma, I'm, um, having some issues with the spirits. Could you please help me?"

"Certainly. Come by this afternoon." Phoebe paled—she'd been expecting a much longer delay than that. She wasn't sure if she was ready to see her grandmother today. "I'll clean up your old room."

"Um, thanks," Phoebe said slowly. "Could you possibly clear up the guest room as well? Um, my friend needs to bring me over if I'm going to be there by this afternoon." Steven looked mildly alarmed at that—clearly he too had been expecting a date further down the road. Phoebe shrugged helplessly.

"I'll reschedule things," Steven murmured into her ear. "Don't worry. The sooner the better, right?" Phoebe nodded

"Consider it done," Deborah said. "I'll expect you in a few hours." The phone line went dead, and Phoebe grimaced.

"Phoebe wrung her hands as she sat on top of Steven's Metagross. He was trying (and failing, as much as she appreciated his attempts) to keep her mind off the impending visit, but it was a little difficult to forget when they were traveling as quickly as Metagross would allow it towards the mountain where she'd spent a sizable chunk of her childhood.

"Maybe I should've brought Ninetales for a visit," Phoebe mumbled. "She loved it here. We'd go running around the mountain, and grandma would always scold us for disturbing the rest of the Pokemon buried here." She laughed. "Maybe it's just biting me in the butt now."

"Maybe," Steven humored. "You'd know better than I." Phoebe frowned.

"What if she can't fix things?" she fretted. "What if it's out of her ability, too? Then what? What if this is all for nothing?"

"Then we find someone who can help you," Steven said, without missing a beat. "And if that fails, we'll keep you safe to the very best of our ability." Phoebe huffed.

"But then that means I panicked for no gain," she groaned. Steven shrugged.

"I'm afraid that there's not much we can do about that," he conceded. "But let's not give up on this yet."

Mt. Pyre was just as Phoebe remembered it—surrounded by fog and teeming with spirits. Even Steven seemed to feel it—not that she was surprised. Mt. Pyre, even to outsiders, had its own aura. It was cooler here than anywhere else in Hoenn, aside from maybe the depths of the caves Steven liked to explore so much.

Still, it was home. And even though Phoebe hadn't set foot here in years, she welcomed it. She remembered every path of the mountain as well as she knew her own name, and she led Steven up to her grandmother's cottage with ease despite the dense fog, making sure he knew exactly where the ledges ended.

And finally, they reached the top, where Deborah lived. Phoebe's hands started to shake once more, and she grabbed Steven's to try and hide it as she knocked sharply on her grandmother's front door. The door swung open, and Phoebe faced her grandmother for the first time in four years.

Deborah, like Mt. Pyre, seemed unchanged by time. She had the same iron-grey hair, the same wrinkles, the same frown that Phoebe remembered.

"If I'd known you were bringing your boyfriend over, then I would've made a separate room despite the short notice," her grandmother said coldly. "Well, I suppose it's better than what you might've brought. I'm Deborah Walker, Phoebe's grandmother." Phoebe felt heat rise in her cheeks, and a quick glance at Steven told her that he looked equally uncomfortable at her grandmother's comment.=

"Steven's not my boyfriend," Phoebe corrected, dropping his hand in favor of her skirt. "He's just the only one who knows about all this." She followed Deborah into the house, sneaking Steven an apologetic glance.

"If you say so," her grandmother said. "At any rate, I hope you're all right with sleeping on the floor. There's a futon on the floor of Phoebe's room." Steven offered Phoebe's grandmother one of his polite smiles—the kind he gave when he wasn't really sure of what else to do./p

"Thank you. That's fine."

"As for you, Phoebe, come with me. I'd like to get to the root of the matter as quickly as possible. Spirits are dangerous beings, when they set their minds to it." Phoebe nodded.

"Um, I'll catch up with you later," she said. "I'd say feel free to take a look around, but…since Grandma and I are probably going to go over to the other side…" Steven nodded.

"Be careful," he said. "I'll just stay in here. I've got some files to look over, anyway." Phoebe smiled, grateful that she didn't need to explain further. She turned towards her grandmother./p

"Okay. Let's do this."

Steven looked up from his paperwork and frowned as the windows of Phoebe's childhood bedroom began to rattle. Normally, he would attribute such an occurrence to the wind—such things weren't uncommon during Hoenn's typhoon season—but Mt. Pyre was unnaturally still. He'd noticed it from the moment they'd touched down on the island. Despite Mt. Pyre being located on an island in the middle of the ocean, and despite the surrounding area being quite breezy, the island itself had been still. There was no other word for it.

A glance out the window told him that the fog seemed much denser than it had been previously; he was sure that the ocean was visible from Phoebe's room. She'd told him herself, after all, and he remembered seeing it when he first sat down at the desk which was clearly made for a much smaller individual than himself.

He couldn't help but worry, despite his previous attempts to reassure Phoebe that everything would turn out fine. It was almost laughable, how he said those things. It wasn't like he knew anything about this spirit business.

He tried to return to his paperwork, but the rattling was distracting. He dropped his pen down to the desk with a small sigh. A glance at the clock told him that they'd been gone for over two hours.

And as suddenly as it had begun, the rattling stopped. He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good sign.

Still, he got up from his chair, wincing as his limbs protested the sudden movement, and made his way back into the living room, where he had a clear view of the front door. The sun was setting, and he hoped they wouldn't be out much longer.

After some time, he saw two figures appear from under the horizon. From the distance, neither seemed to be in any ill health—the taller figure seemed to be running, in fact.

Phoebe burst through the door and flung her arms around him.

"It worked!" she said. "We don't have anything to worry about anymore!" She was practically bouncing on her heels, and Steven smiled. It was evident that the matter had been weighing heavily on her mind even the night before, but seeing her usual self reappear only drove the point home.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said. Deborah said something about preparing dinner and shuffled into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone. "How did it go?"

"Well, it was a bit scary," Phoebe replied with a shrug. "The spirit didn't really want to negotiate at first, you know? Sometimes that happens. But we managed to figure out how to neutralize its rage, so it's okay." Steven shot her an unamused look. "She was…pleasant. She didn't really talk to me aside from the actual ritual, so it was okay." Phoebe bit her lip. "If it weren't for the fact that Mt. Pyre can be a bit unsafe at night, I'd ask to leave now. But it's okay! What's the worst that can happen?" She offered him a smile that looked rather forced. Steven squeezed her hand briefly.

"Everything will be just fine," he said. Phoebe smiled brightly up at him, even though they both knew well that his words didn't hold much meaning.

Dinner was a tense affair. Phoebe's grandmother was polite, but Steven found that he ended up doing a vast majority of the talking, trying to carry on conversation with both of women at the table, who seemed to be interacting as little as possible. He didn't mind—his father's years of advice on the art of conversation were practically second-nature to him now.

"By the way, Phoebe," Deborah said, once she had interrogated Steven about his love life (or, rather, his lack thereof). "You remember Luke, don't you? The nice young man who brings me groceries once a week." Phoebe nodded, her expression wary as her grip on her chopsticks tightened. "He's been asking about you lately. I gave him your number—he seems quite interested in you. I figured you wouldn't mind."

"I have a girlfriend," Phoebe said. Steven raised an eyebrow at that—he hadn't been aware of this development. "Her name is Susannah." She glanced at Steven. "I wanted to introduce you to her, actually. I didn't want to say anything in case it didn't work out, but…" Steven smiled.

"I understand. Congratulations, Phoebe. I'm sure she's wonderful." He eyed the way Deborah's frown deepened with a barely perceptible frown.

"Oh, Phoebe," Deborah sighed. "I was hoping you'd grow out of this." Steven glanced between his two companions, a sinking feeling growing in his stomach. Phoebe shot him a nervous look. "Don't you want to get married and have children someday?" Steven reached for Phoebe's free hand under the table. When he was unable to find it, he settled for nudging her knee lightly.

"I can get married and have kids with Susannah," Phoebe said, her voice devoid of its usual cheer. She flashed Steven a somewhat pained smile. "You're probably a bit tired, right Steven? Why don't you head in before me? There's a bathroom in the hallway right next to my room." Taking the hint, Steven rose from the table, picking up his dishes to deposit them in the sink.

"Thank you for the meal," he said, knowing his own voice sounded colder than he intended. "I am a bit tired. Please excuse me.

He could hear the conversation escalating even as he exited the dining room.

It was late in the night now, and Steven had long since finished his paperwork to the backdrop of Phoebe and Deborah's argument. He hadn't really been paying attention to what was being said—he could guess well enough based on the comments Deborah had made before he'd been indirectly asked to leave the dining room, and he knew enough from Phoebe to gather that the conversation had likely spiraled outward from there.

He couldn't help but feel like this confrontation was his fault. He had been the one to insist that they come see Deborah, rather than try and find some other medium, though Phoebe herself said that she couldn't vouch for anyone, and this was better than a wild Swanna chase to meet with a medium who may or may not be real.

The door to Phoebe's room opened, and Phoebe shuffled inside, flicking off the lights as she entered the room. Even with the lack of light, Steven could tell she was shaking.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. He felt arms wrap around his waist and a face press against his chest, followed by the hotness of tears. He slid his arms around Phoebe and pulled her closer. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Phoebe replied immediately, her voice cracking, likely in an effort to prevent herself from letting out a sob. He traced small circles into her back, the way his mother used to do for him when he was young. "I hate her."

"I wouldn't blame you." Phoebe let out a watery chuckle.

"You know I'm lying." Steven conceded that he did. If he had to pick one of Phoebe's characteristics to define her, he would choose her seemingly infinite capacity to love. "Why can't she just accept me for me?" she whispered. "You know what she said? She said that if I weren't so unnatural then maybe I would've been fine, and none of this would've happened in the first place. Can you believe it? I nearly died and that's all she had to say? What kind of grandmother is she?" Phoebe's grip on the back of his shirt tightened, yanking the fabric backwards, and Steven was glad he'd changed into a T-shirt to sleep in.

"You know," Steven said softly. "My family is always open to you" His mouth twitched upwards despite the situation, already imagining the way his mother would declare Phoebe to be the daughter she never gave birth to. "My parents would love you." Phoebe pulled away from him, wiping her eyes.

"Thanks, Stevie," she said, her voice thick. "But for now, I think I just want to sleep." She flopped into her bed face-first, and Steven crawled onto his futon.

"Wake me up if you need anything," he said. His statement was greeted with silence, and he wondered if she'd already fallen asleep.

"Okay," Phoebe said. "I will. Thanks." There was another pause. "For everything. Love you, Stevie."

"Love you too, Phoebs." And with that, Steven allowed himself to fall asleep to the sound of her even breaths.

This was written a while ago, but I figured that I should possibly start crossposting more of my writings so they I can find them more easily. This is canon to the Pokeani RP on tumblr.

- Nox