Hey everyone! Sorry for the short introduction last time. The name's Flurp and it's been awhile since I last posted anything, but I'm really excited for this story! If you guys have any suggestions or comments of any kind, feel free to PM or review. I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can, but don't get too mad if I don't respond right away. I'm a busy girl. Also, pancakes.

Anyway, disclaimer time. I don't own anything except the certain order in which I put these words of the English language. But I don't own the words either I just sort of borrowed them.

So without further ado, I present to you Throwing Stones: Chapter Two!


Chapter Two: A Not So Bad Aftermath

Steven awakened to a white hot headache and a sharp pain in his left leg. He let out a long groan, rubbing his eyes. He tried to open them but immediately cringed at the sunlight peeking between his fingers.

"Sir."

Knowing not what else to do, Steven just sort of sat there with his hands over his eyes. He recognized the voice as butler Martinov. "Good morning, Martinov," he said, hands still over his eyes. He felt rather silly, but couldn't bring himself to take them off.

"Good morning to you, Mr. Stone. I was instructed to awaken you thirty minutes before your meeting with Doctor Paisley."

Oh, fuck. "Ah, thank you Martinov. Say, will you do me a favor?"

"Why, yes, sir. That's what I'm here for." He seemed a little caught off-guard by the question.

"Will you close all of my curtains, please?" He was still getting used to having servants again. It had been about a week since he'd been forced to return to the Stone Mansion in Rustboro Hills. After his recent... incident, his father had torn him away from solitary life and insisted he return to Rustboro Hills Finishing School to re-learn how to act "like a future heir to an honorable business". He was just fine at being proper. Having a bit too much to drink and getting into one tiny scrap over matters of honor does not make one any less classy.

"Yes, sir. Is that all?" The room began to darken with each swoosh of curtains falling.

"Can you also ask Marion to pour me an extra tall glass of Moomoo milk? And that's all."

"I can, sir."

Steven took his hands off his eyes slowly and began the process of getting used to the little light left in the room. He had them open just enough to watch Martinov's flawless, shiny, black leather shoes leave the room. "Thank you," he called after him.

"My pleasure, sir," he responded.

It took a few moments, but Steven finally got to the point to where he could look around the room without too much trouble. The clock on the wall told him he had less than twenty-five minutes left to make himself look presentable.

"Thirty minutes..." he mumbled to himself. "Who gives a person only thirty minutes? Who even set the alarm in the first place?" He yawned wide and tried to get up, but found his father's new Aron keeping him from budging. He was both annoyed and... somewhat delighted. There had always been a soft spot in his heart for steel Pokemon. That's why he became a predominantly steel-type trainer.

"Aron," he said softly. The Pokemon immediately opened it's bright blue eyes and hopped over to him, wagging it's behind and hopping around. Steven smiled and patted him on his head.

It was clear to Steven after trying once more to leave the bed that he had lost all feeling to his left leg below the knee. But he didn't have time to wait for it to come back.

And so, ever so (un)gracefully, Steven hopped with his dead leg over to his full length mirror, deciding that his meeting with the doctor was more important at the moment. His hair was a mess which was not unusual and he was still in his meeting suit, which would be fine to wear out if not for the wrinkles and the god-awful smell. It had a few splotches from last night's not-so-friendly visit with Mr. Vomit Bucket, which he at that moment realized was no longer in the room. Martinov must have taken it out, he thought.

Steven stripped himself of his clothes with a little more hassle than usual and hobbled to the armoire to pick out a new suit. It seemed his brain and his body were still having a bit of trouble staying in sync, and the just-awakening-but-still-mostly-dead leg didn't help anything.

"Good morning, ladies," he said to the mermaids as he opened the large doors and took the first thing he found (which was quite unusual as he always took a long time deciding what to wear). When he was a child he liked to pretend the mermaids watched over him while he slept to make sure no harm would come over him. The Empoleon mermaid was secretly his favorite, but he gave them all equal attention.

He looked in the mirror once he was done. He actually looked quite dashing, save for the sunken eyes. It was a deep violet accented silver cuffed suit, one he hadn't worn in years, but he didn't much care about the slightly musty smell at that moment. He looked damn good, and paired with that black tie he might as well have been going to a presidents' corporate assembly.

The clock said twelve minutes to go. Steven rushed to the bathroom and poured himself some mouth wash. He swished it around while quickly combing his hair, a rare occasion, but he looked too good to pass it up.

He spat, washed his face with a soft white towel with the letter 'S' on it, and just barely sprayed a bit of cologne on. A bit of bluish-white stubble was forming on his chin, but it would have to slide this time. Over all, he felt actually quite good about today.

He just cracked the door open to leave when a blinding light knocked him back into reality. He needed something for that. He needed...

Aha! With a swift movement Steven was to his armoire, digging through the bottom drawer until he found them.

Aron danced around his feet. His words from last night echoed in his mind: I'll take father's pets for a walk. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

Steven donned his aviator sunglasses and called the Aron to him, taking off down the long hallway. His father's room was to his opposite. He flung open the ornate doors, reached into the chest in the center of the room, grabbed the pokeball from where it sat comfortably in its periwinkle silk nest.

It was now seven minutes until he needed to be at the lab. Drastic measures had to be taken.

When Steven reached the staircase he slid down the beam like he was seven years old again, but this time his father wasn't around to scold him when he got to the bottom and lecture him on proper manners.

The double doors slammed open as Steven burst through them. Four minutes. It was a long shot but he reached into his pocket. This was the same suit he was wearing when he first journeyed with... well, that was a long time ago.

As luck would have it, the eon flute was still in his pocket. Now he remembered why he hadn't worn this suit in such a long time. It reminded him of her.

He shook it off. Now was not the time. He brought the metal to his lips and played. He was a bit rusty, but Latias didn't care. She was there in seconds. The magnificent creature landed beside him and he leaned down to pick up Aron, struggling to heave her onto her mighty back. Once he secured him (or her, Steven wasn't quite sure) he told her, "To Devon Labs," and she soared high above and away from the mansion.