Note: I do not own Pokemon or any associated properties or characters

To: I am Lu. Amazing author. Kind soul. Lover of all things Pokémon.

This Doesn't Change Anything

We regret to inform you that you did not meet the requirements for your ascension to the Rank of Connaisseuse (Class B) this year. We thank you for your time and dedication to this fine art and hope that your attempt next year, if you should choose to do so, will prove more fruitful.

Regards,

President of the Connoisseurs Association of Unova, and S-Class Connoisseur,

Gerard Poltiere

As Burgundy neared the end of the letter she had very nearly tore in her enthusiastic haste to open, she could only stare on in muted horror as the damning words seemed to flow from the paper, through her eyes and come to rest in her now turbulent mind.

Three times. Three times she had been rejected. Three years of her life had gone by and she still had nothing new to show for it.

Georgia had been watching Burgundy carefully, her curiosity drawn by just how much more fervently the purple-haired girl had been acting since she was hand delivered the envelope; which was saying a lot if her behaviour at any other time was any indication. But her intrigue only grew when she saw the look on Burgundy's face grow from one of eager anticipation to crestfallen in less than a minute.

"What is it?" the dragon-buster inquired, her voice only betraying the slightest concern.

Burgundy's face visibly twitched as she realized she had an audience in the form of her friend. Even with their usual scathing banter, Burgundy did consider her as such. But Burgundy couldn't let Georgia see her like this. She couldn't show her weakness in any form, lest her pink-haired comrade capitalize on it. She couldn't take the ridicule right now. Not with this bombshell dropped on her only moments earlier.

The C-Class Connaisseuse forced her facial features into a neutral expression. In any other situation, she might've been able to muster a fake smile, or at the very least, a smug smirk. But this time, she could find neither the energy nor the emotional means to force the corners of her lips up that high. She quickly hid the letter, cramming it into her black dress pants pocket unceremoniously and quickly responded to Georgia's question, "Nothing. Just some bureaucratic connoisseur nonsense you wouldn't be interested in."

To her credit, it wasn't exactly a lie. It made it all the easier for Burgundy to push the words out of her mouth without sounding like she was spinning falsehoods, but it didn't come out as steadily as she had hoped either. Her voice had pitched a couple of times involuntarily.

Georgia, sharp as a tack, caught onto this and narrowed her teal eyes at her temporary roommate and pressed the matter, "Burgundy, spit it out! I know there's something up!"

Burgundy winced as the words hit her. She felt trapped. She knew the moment she started talking about it, her walls would come crashing down around her. She didn't want to lay it all down on Georgia. She was a good friend, but this was her own battle. This was her burden to lift.

"It's nothing! Just drop it already dragon-buster!" Burgundy spat, turning her back to Georgia and crossing her arms stubbornly.

Georgia raised an eyebrow and her eyes grew wide. Now she knew something was wrong. Burgundy only used Georgia's self-proclaimed title in two situations: When she was mocking her after a lost battle, or when she was incredibly angry.

"Burgundy, what's gotten into you? What the hell did that letter say?" the pink-haired trainer spoke again, undaunted by her friend's obnoxiously closed nature.

"It's none of your business!" Burgundy retorted, shooting Georgia an angry look over her shoulder.

"C'mon, Burgundy. This sounds like the kind of crap you need to actually talk about in order to get past it. Let's just get it over with. I'm here to help, you know."

Whether or not Georgia knew it, that final sentence was the last thing Burgundy wanted to hear from her. A screw popped loose in her brain and she whipped around, her face a visage of rage and fury.

"I DON'T NEED ANYONE'S HELP!"

For the first time in a long time, Georgia was stunned into silence. She had managed to rile up the overly emotional connaisseuse many times before, but this was on an entirely different level.

"TO HELL WITH YOU AND TO HELL WITH THE CONNOISSEUR'S ASSOCIATION! I'LL SHOW YOU! I'LL SHOW THEM! I'LL SHOW EVERYONE THAT I HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BECOME THE GREATEST CONNOISSEUR IN UNOVA! AND I'LL DO IT MYSELF! I DON'T NEED THEIR APPROVAL AND I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY!"

With that, Burgundy stormed out of the hotel room that the pair were occupying and the sounds of her echoing footsteps pounding the hallway floor could be heard for much longer than any sort of reasonable sound should have been allowed to travel. Georgia, without hesitation, began to run after her.

But Burgundy's words rang loudly in her ears.

I don't need anyone's help.

Georgia scowled and angrily remarked to herself, "No, you don't want help now. But you'll need it soon."

Georgia flopped back onto the bed and pondered the situation. She knew she would have quite the task ahead or her on Burgundy's return. But for the moment, she needed to let Burgundy burn off that excess anger. She couldn't possibly help the connaisseuse in that state, especially with how she tended to be frank and unchecked in her attempts to address problems. Georgia couldn't help it. She didn't care for sugar-coating and hypersensitivity. But for the moment, she knew it would only antagonize Burgundy. The pink-haired trainer heaved out a breath of resignation and began to run all the possibilities in her head so that she would be ready for Burgundy's inevitable return.

The rain was unrelenting, but it had nothing on the sheer will power of the connaisseuse. She ran from the hotel, already soaked, not sure where she was going, and certainly not caring either. She just had to get away from it all. She needed to prove herself. At least the rain would challenge her. At least the storm was aware of her strength.

She continued her hasty jog, only to tumble in the mud clumsily and collapse face first into a large, dirty puddle. She didn't immediately remove herself, as she was somewhat stymied by her apparent streak of bad luck. She wanted to scream her lungs out into the storm as an angry affirmation to its continued trials. She wanted to claw and punch the earth for its defiance. But she couldn't. She was so overburdened with an unending load of emotions that she couldn't muster any effort to move, nor speak, nor fight.

"My, my... such an odd taste to find in the middle of the road on an evening such as this."

Or at least that would've been the case until he showed up.

As though sparked by the hues of the voice and the words themselves, Burgundy sprang up. Instinct drove her now. She had to outmatch him. She had to look, sound, and perform better than him. There wasn't a choice. Her body and mind wouldn't accept anything else.

No, she would not let Cilan see her as a piece of debris on the road. Not if she had anything to say about it!

"Bête!" she growled, her voice overcoming the sounds of rain and thunder engulfing the world around them, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," he replied smoothly, "It's not terribly conducive to your health to be out in weather such as this without the proper attire," he gestured to his raincoat and umbrella as he spoke.

It was only then that Burgundy took a moment to look at herself.

She was an utter mess. Mud plastered her fine clothing, she was soaked from head to toe, and were it not for the rain, he would've certainly noted the tears streaming down her face. But still, despite his obviously superior circumstances, she defied him.

"A minor inconvenience that I can easily deal with!" she snapped, "Now scurry off to ruin someone else's life!"

Cilan frowned as he looked her over and took in her words. Her normally harsh words were especially sharp this evening and he eyed her analytically. She was running away from the hotel. She hadn't prepared herself for the storm. Her puffy eyes indicated that she was in a less than stable emotional state. He knew something was wrong. He just wasn't able to deduce what exactly. But he knew he couldn't just ask. Not with how she was contending with him.

"Come, Burgundy, we need to get you out of the cold and into the hotel so you can dry off. You'll catch your death out here!" Cilan admonished.

Burgundy gritted her teeth, once again annoyed at yet another display of charity she didn't want. As Cilan tried to approach her, she slapped away his outstretched hand and bit, "Tromper maladroit! I did not ask for your help!"

Cilan withdrew his gesture of aid with a slight hiss of pain as Burgundy's counter had been quite vicious. But Cilan was neither offended nor angry with her. She was merely reacting in her usual manner, though amplified many times due to whatever was plaguing her. He looked on her with a sorrowful face, wondering just how he could gain her trust.

"Burgundy, this storm will only worsen with time. The hotel is the only place to rest for miles around. At the very least, if you are going somewhere, please take my coat and umbrella," Cilan offered, his words kind and soft, despite the ongoing aura of hostility emanating from the connaisseuse.

Though she hated to admit it, the A-Class Connoisseur had a point. She had nowhere else to go in the storm, and the hotel was the only shelter for within a day's walk. But she wasn't about to take charity from anyone, much less her rival. She snorted at him and stuck her nose up as she gave her acidic reply, "Keep your filthy things. I don't need them. I'm already heading back."

Cilan nodded, silently thankful that she had come, at least partially, back to her senses. There was still much to do for the young lady, but he hoped that he would be able to attend to that in time. For now, he was content with following her back to the hotel in relative quiet; the only sounds in the air being the patter of the rain and the crashes of thunder than boomed throughout the sky.

It wasn't long before they strode into the lobby of the hotel. Even as she re-entered the far more welcoming environment, she was beginning to feel the effects of her soaked clothing and she instinctively began to shiver. Yet, she refused to bring her arms around herself to show she was affected. Cilan was still there, his green eyes still ever watchful. She couldn't let herself appear weak to him.

Yet, as much as she wanted nothing to do with him, she couldn't help but eavesdrop on the man as he spoke to the clerk at the front desk.

"Good evening. I'd like to procure a room for the night. Are there still any vacancies?"

Ugh, so obnoxiously pleasant at all times. How pretentious. Burgundy's mind kept manufacturing reasons to hate the green-haired man, even though she knew she had plenty already. It was all she knew at this point. It was what drove her. She would show him what a good connaisseuse she was. She would show him that, despite his rank, that his assessment of her was wrong. He would have to concede to her eventually. No one was perfect. Least of all, him.

"We have one room left, sir. You made it just in time it seems," the clerk informed Cilan, handing him a key marked with a number nineteen, "Your room is just down the hall."

"You have my gratitude! Have a good night!" Cilan gave a curt bow to the man and proceeded down the hallway, but not before he saw Burgundy lingering in the lobby. She still stood there, dirtied and drenched, yet unwilling to move or even meet his gaze.

"Are you going to be heading back to you room?" he questioned, keeping his tone light and casual.

She shot him a glare. Though her outer appearance appeared composed and only spoke of annoyance, her mind was a mess and she was fumbling to find a response. If she said yes, she would have to return to Georgia's room to confront her. She wasn't ready for that right now. If she said no... she honestly wasn't sure exactly what would occur. Her mind raced to concoct something to say that would not fall under those two options. However, she failed to find it and panicked.

"No," she blurted out.

"Don't you want to change?" Cilan continued his line of questions, concern making its way onto his face and into his speech.

Now Burgundy's face was beginning to show cracks in its facade. She was running out of things to say to the man to get him off her case. She knew that, no matter how much she insulted him or even yelled at him, he would not relent in this instance. He was far too gentlemanly to allow for that.

"I- I- don't have a room," she lied.

Why did I just say that?she internally cursed herself. She couldn't fabricate an excuse fast enough and just said the first thing that came to her mind.

"Well, there are no more vacancies in the hotel," he paused and considered for a moment. Cilan cheerfully smiled and suggested, "You can take the bed in my room if you like."

Burgundy's scowl returned in full force and she uttered in a dangerous tone, "If you think... that for one moment... I'll ever share a bed with you. Homme cochon!"

Cilan raised his hands, and quickly amended his statement, "Dear me, no! Of course not! I meant you could take the bed and I would take the floor. Or the couch if they have one."

Burgundy's once terrifying face relaxed slightly as she heard this. The man was bending over backwards to accommodate her, despite all she said to him. The idea of having to spend the night in the same room as her rival almost disgusted her. But at the moment, it seemed the better alternative to having to talk to Georgia. As great a friend as she was, the girl could sometimes be a bit pushy when it came to her personal issues.

"Fine. But if I even smell a hint of your devious intentions... I will..." Burgundy tried to think up an adequate consequence, but Cilan didn't allow her the chance to finish her ominous threat.

"I give you my word as a connoisseur and a gentleman. I will act with the utmost decency. I assure you."

Whether it was genuine, or the well-practiced words of a deceitful scoundrel, Bungundy could not tell. But she could find no evidence of a lie in the man's voice. She hesitantly nodded and followed the green-haired man down the hall and into the door marked room nineteen.

Cilan had allowed Burgundy use of his bathroom while he directed Burgundy to use the spare set of pajamas he had room service send in. After she had dried and washed herself of the road's unpleasant remnants, she eagerly donned them. The new fabrics were soft, warm and far more comforting than her defiled garments had become.

"Are you decent?" came the quiet inquiry though the bathroom door.

"Oui," she replied without thinking, her angry tones forgotten with the feeling of dry clothes, even at the voice of the man whom she had sworn to defeat.

Cilan stepped in, dressed in his own sleeping apparel, a set of striped blue and white pajamas. Burgundy scoffed at his silly choice in sleepwear and passed him by as she vacated the bathroom. She entered the hotel room. It was small, which was expected for a rather remote establishment. But for one night, she was sure it would do. Especially since the fool had given up his bed for her.

She took her place on the bed and began to make herself comfortable. She observed, on the nightstand, a piece of paper. She figured it to be a note from the owners of the hotel, wishing those who chose their establishment a good night's rest. She couldn't have been more wrong.

The instant she began reading it, she paled and, as much as she didn't want to continue, kept reading onward. She reached the end and she felt her fist clench in anger, crushing the note until it was nothing but a crumpled mess that tumbled out of her shaking hand. Cilan emerged from the bathroom moments later, on to see an enraged Burgundy staring at him. Her eyes were locked on his, and he was certain that within a moments' exposure, the intensity she put forth would cause him to be set alight.

"They rejected me..." she began lowly, her voice barely a whisper, though in the dim silence of the room, he heard her perfectly, "but they choose to advance you?"

Cilan's glance fell to the crinkled note at her feet and his eyes grew wide. He inwardly winced as he realized that all connoisseurs got their results back that day, and he wondered why he hadn't thought about that as he tried to place the source of her seemingly empowered anger.

"Burgundy, I-" he began.

"You keep ruining everything!" she screamed, her face pitching upwards and unleashing that torrid voice she had wanted to back in the storm only half-an-hour earlier. Cilan was stunned into silence by the act; so much so that he couldn't react to what she did next. Burgundy barrelled into Cilan, screaming into his chest and pounding fruitlessly at his shoulders with her clenched fists. Tears that had fought so hard to free themselves from the girl finally fell yet again, staining both their shirts while her wracked cries of pain reverberated throughout the room.

Cilan regained his senses as she continued to move her fists back and forth, bringing little harm but much grief to the experienced connoisseur. Without even thinking, he wrapped his arms around the shorter girl and held her closer to him. Her flailing arms stilled and returned the embrace. On some level, she was conscious of her actions. But at that point, she didn't care. She just needed something – someone – to lean on. Her rival might not have been her first choice, but at least he was there. At least this damnable, annoying, infuriating, overly pretentious man, was there to help her. For the one time she ever asked; even if she never said a word.

Her sobs continued, her body slackening from the strain of the day's stresses. He held her, ensuring she would not fall to the ground harshly. He never wanted this for her. He knew, deep down, she was going to be a great connaisseuse one day. It would be a long road, filled with harsh lessons and disappointments like these; but she would get there. But now, she needed to him keep her from falling again, just like she had on the road; unable to move under the burden of her purpose: to become great enough to prove him wrong. It was a strange thing to support a young woman with such determination to be his undoing. But he felt compelled to do no different. Anything else felt wrong for him.

He gingerly picked her up and brought her to the bed. He lay her down on her side, drew the blankets over her heaving body and began to part from her, readying himself for his night on the floor.

That was when he felt a grip on his arm tighten.

"Non!"

Cilan looked back at her, seeing her violet eyes watery with emotion. He gazed questioningly at her, and she simply jerked him back onto the bed. For a moment, he wanted to ask her why, but he was rendered speechless by her actions. She drew him closer and hugged him tightly. Her hold was almost possessive in a way, and slightly painful even. But Cilan knew that this was something he had to endure. She had it so much worse at the moment, and, in a strange way, he thought that sharing the pain might actually aid her somehow. Cilan managed to wiggle his way into the half-disturbed sheets of the bed and joined her, allowing Burgundy to draw him in even closer.

Her sobs, though slowed and not nearly as loud, still pervaded his ears, and besides her breathing, he could hear nothing else. Their faces were so close. He could feel her breath on his face. Her eyes were closed, trying to find solace in the physical contact with him, but trying to forget that it was him that she lay beside. Her stubborn mind might've finally given up on hating him fully, but she was committed to the idea that she still didn't like him that much.

"Don't think this changes anything," she ground out between sobs, "I will still beat you one day."

He brought up a hand to brush away a stray tear that fell down her face with an almost ghostly touch. Immediately, her eyes flew open at the sudden sensation. Their eyes locked she found it strangely difficult to tear her gaze away. She could blink, but she found herself unwilling to shut them like she had before.

His lips curved into a small, reassuring smile as he saw her staring at him with eyes that screamed confusion. He pulled her tighter towards him and breathed to her, "I look forward to that day with much anticipation. It will be a taste that will have been years in the making, and every day delayed will make it all the sweeter. Until then, remember: You can make the bitter taste of revenge your driving force, but you will miss out on the pleasant taste of moments like these. Life is a gourmet feast. Embrace and sample all of it."

She sighed into his neck and she snuggled into him to make herself more comfortable, feeling sleep's heavy hand dragging her away from consciousness. She mustered one last look at his surprisingly reassuring face before finally succumbing to her fatigue.

Cilan breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her pass into sleep, and her weeping passing away along with it. He mumbled something as well before joining her in the same state, "You're right. This doesn't change anything. Next year, I'll put forth all my effort to help you ascend to a new rank. Just as I did this year."

With that, Cilan fell into a deep sleep, finding a strange sense of belonging in the arms of the young woman with whom he shared a deep-seated rivalry.

A/N: Yet another product of my oddly active 4 am brain. This one, however, comes out of an open request by 'I am Lu' (whose page and stories on this site you must visit, if nothing else than to read 'The Ash Connection'). I hope you all enjoyed it.

~ Undercityrezident