A/N: Just a little note, today; I'll try and make it easy for people reading to follow the 'jumps'-- with dashes.

Three dashes will indicate an advancement in time, while ten will indicate a switch between characters.

Chapter 2: The Saviour

'Talk about a lucky girl,' he thought to himself as he carried the injured blonde woman through the forest as fast as he could, his Fearow flying close. She was incredibly lucky that his Fearow had found her, mainly because she was quite a distance from his usual walking route; he would have never known about her otherwise. 'If I'm quick enough, I should at least be able to patch her up, until she can get some proper medical attention.' He wasn't used to seeing people on the verge of death; it kind of made him feel uneasy, but he could tell when someone was in mortal danger.

The return journey seemed to take forever with his rushing thoughts, but finally he had returned to his house in the forest. He rushed up to the door and carefully positioned the woman so that he could yank at the handle to get inside, quickly gripping her once again and rushing to where what little medical equipment he had was stored. He placed her on the chair and quickly rummaged through the numerous utensils; if he worked quickly—but carefully, everything would be all right.

He was still sweating from the mad rush he had done from where he had found her and quickly grabbed a towel that he had tossed on the floor the other day, while looking for his phone, mopping his brow before going to work on at least trying to save this woman. He couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked while sleeping; amongst the scratches across her face and the fact that she had two bullet wounds in her—he snapped back to reality, cursing himself for thinking about such things in such a situation.
"Stay focused, Ralph! Think about how pretty she'll be when she's patched up and alive."

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'Ahh... finally... I just hope it's enough, until I can get her somewhere more useful,' Ralph thought to himself as he looked at the still unconscious woman in front of him. He was a little calmer now; knowing that she had somewhat stabilised over the time he had been patching her up. He'd pulled a handgun bullet out of her shoulder, but it seemed the shot to her side was seemingly fired close enough for it to go straight through; in the process, completely missing anything that would have sealed her fate.

'Looks like I need to thank my parents again...' he thought to himself; he hadn't considered a career as a doctor or anything until his parents had mentioned it to him—though he was still jobless, even with his qualifications.
"At least I can still make use of the skills," he muttered to himself as he looked at the motionless form that was limply resting in the chair, noticing how bloody and torn her clothing was from what seemed like her sprint through hell and back.

"How she's still alive, I'll never know," he muttered aloud to himself. 'Probably best she rests somewhere more comfortable though, right Ralph?' He nodded to his minds' question, picking her up and taking her into the bedroom just down the hall and to the right from the room he had patched her up in.
"I should... probably take her out of those tattered clothes, too."

He mentally slapped himself for how he had said it—she was still unconscious, but he got the feeling she'd heard him; her face seemed to frown at the comment he'd made. On top of that, he felt a little nervous about... undressing her; his intentions were pure, but if she woke up in the process, he'd have a throbbing red hand mark on his face as a reminder where good intentions get you.

He averted his eyes as best he could as he took the bloody and tattered top off of her, quickly scrambling for the shirt, but carefully slipping her injured arm into the left sleeve. It took all his nerve to replace her top; the whole time, he was worried she'd wake up, but she thankfully hadn't—but he was definitely pushing his luck. It looked a little big on her, but it would do; after all, she wasn't going to be going anywhere.

He decided to leave her tattered jeans; for all intents and purposes, he didn't want to wake up tomorrow feeling like his head was triple its original size. He just plainly removed the running shoes and socks that she wore and placed them next to the bedside table, before pulling the quilt from over the bed and putting the unconscious woman down upon it.

'I'll have to contact a hospital or something—see if I can get a doctor or something on stand-by to check her when she's awake,' he thought to himself, as he pulled the quilt over her. She seemed a little uncomfortable, though; as if she was cold or something—though he had just the remedy for that. He leaned out of the room, looking around until he saw his Flareon, resting in the living room. "Hey, Flareon," he quietly called; the fire Pokémon picked itself from the sofa it was on, stretching a yawning before walking over to its owner.

"How'd you like to keep our guest warm, until she wakes up?" he asked the Flareon. It smiled, giving an enthusiastic and obedient cry and walked by Ralph, carefully climbing onto the bed and making itself comfortable next to the woman. It seemed like a wonderful picture—a Trainer and her Pokémon taking a late morning nap.

That was when it suddenly clicked in his mind; the woman—she wasn't carrying any Poké balls with her when he found her. 'Would that mean she's not a Trainer, then...?' He put his hand on his chin and rubbed it a couple of times in thought; it wasn't very often you'd find someone out in the Eterna Forest without a Pokémon by their side—either as company or protection.

He left the thought for the moment; he still needed to get in contact with the closest hospital. He thought to try Eterna City's first, with Jubilife City as a second option, if need be and with that, he left the room in silence for his Flareon and the woman to rest.

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She lightly stirred from her seemingly eternal slumber, her head pounding with the biggest headache she had ever felt—as if a herd of Tauros were rampaging in circles through her skull. She pulled her right hand to her face, rubbing her forehead lightly as if to try and massage the pain away. 'Geez... what the hell happened,' she mumbled to herself as she slowly started to shuffle herself into a seated position, once again feeling the pain from her left arm lock her in place. She winced, pulling the light covers away from her arm with her right hand to see the bandaged wound she had suffered, suddenly making her realise she wasn't at home—and nor was she in that damn forest.

She looked around the room; it had plain walls coloured a creamy colour with wooden furnishings dotted around—a chest of drawers in front, at the bottom of the bed, a couple wardrobes to the right and a couple bedside tables at either side, where she noticed the toes of her running shoes poking out next to the one closest to the open door. She turned her head back to the plainly covered bed to see for the first time a red and yellow Pokémon staring at her; its face roughly two feet away from her own. She let out a light gasp, a little startled at seeing the Flareon so close to her, but seemed to remain calm, given the circumstances. She still had the horrible image of Fletcher's dead body embedded into her mind that almost made her cry once again, but she closed her eyes and steeled herself; she needed to stay strong... she needed to take revenge.

As she opened her eyes, she noticed the Flareon had vanished from its position on the bed, leaving a really warm patch where it had been; though the entire bed was warm, thanks to its body temperature. She shuffled herself up a little more with her good arm, and then pulled her left arm gently across her legs as the Flareon and a man with short, light brown hair and blue eyes; he seemed no older than she was and wore a blue short-sleeved shirt that had a chest pocket attached with a pair of black trousers.

She quickly pulled herself together, shuffling gently on the bed to straighten herself up.
"So, are you the one who rescued me?" she asked him, her voice sounding weaker than she had anticipated it to be. To top it off, she started feeling sick again from remembering everything that had led to her being here in this man's house. She struggled to hold it back, but somehow managed, as he spoke up.
"That would be me, though my Fearow should get the credit; were it not for him, I'd have never come across you—not to mention it's not often you see someone with such... interesting wounds out here."

His curiosity over her situation was obvious, but she really didn't want to talk about everything that had happened—not only was it painful, she didn't think she could stomach talking about it; at least right now.
"That's... a long story," she simply said, hopefully implying to him that she didn't want to talk about it. She felt the sadness well up inside of her, feeling a few tears fall from her face. She could feel the gaze of the man on her skin and turned her head slightly to cover her emotions; not only was he making her feel uncomfortable for just glaring at her, but she didn't want to shed her emotions in front of a complete stranger.

A few moments silence fell over them, but didn't last long, as he started talking again; "Ahh, where are my manners! My name's Ralph. Pleased to meet you..." He seemed to purposely pause as if for her to fill in the name he didn't know, which was when she almost didn't answer; as if she had forgotten what her name was. It took her a few moments to pull herself together before she pulled the information from her mind.
"Clara! Clara Reed," she said with a thankful sigh; she didn't know what she would have done if she had 'lost' her identity. Through all the madness that had followed the... incident, it seemed to have been pushed to the back of her mind with other questions burning brighter in her thoughts.

"Then I'm pleased to meet you, Clara—though I'd have hoped for better circumstances," said the man known as Ralph. He bowed a little before her, which ended up making her feel a little awkward, but she didn't pay much mind to it. She did have one question for him that burned in her mind, though; one that she probably should have asked when she awoke.
"So... how long was I unconscious for?" She noticed that she still had the weak tone in her voice; she'd have tried to rectify it, but she felt far too weak to care.

"Let's see," started Ralph, as he pondered on the question for a moment. "You've been out for about six hours from when I found you in the forest—maybe thirty minutes to an hour before I found you, so at least six and a half hours. Its 4:22pm, at the moment." There was a moment of silence, then he continued; "I'm kind of surprised you were out for such little time, though; you were in a pretty bad way when you were found."

Silence filled the room once again; she felt a little awkward at the comment, but her thoughts were disturbed by the TV in the next room.
"This is Sinnoh Regional News and today's hot topic; the recent attack on a Cyclone Inc. Facility just outside of Eterna Forest. It is believed the activist group known as 'PSA'; a local group who have been assisting police in their efforts to rescue stolen and poached Pokémon, is involved in the explosion that ripped through Western Sinnoh earlier today. So far, there are many wounded, but only one dead; believed to be a member of the activist group in question. More on this, as the story develops. In other news..."

The TV droned out of her mind, being replaced with a confusing mixture of anger and sadness towards the situation and the knowledge that the one dead person the news woman was talking about was Fletcher. She almost burst into a crying fit, feeling her resolve weaken ever so slightly at the knowledge they had already started covering their tracks, like they had with the Team Galactic scenario several months ago.

They were mere remnants of the broken team, but Arc had been investigating the remaining members and he knew it would only be a matter of time until they picked up where Cyrus left off; caution that paid off in the end, drawing them closer to the poached and stolen Pokémon mystery. 'But now...'

"Ralph... I have a favour to ask of you," she snapped herself out of the slight daze she was in and seemed to snap him out of his glaring; he certainly liked to stare at her a lot. He nervously answered, seeming to see the slight irritation in her expression at his insistent staring; "What would that be?"

"I... know some people in Oreburgh that can take care of me; I wouldn't like to impose any more on you than I already have, so I was wondering if you would be able to take me there." She hoped that her request would go unchallenged, but that hope faded when she saw his face show concern; she had a feeling she knew what he would say next.

"I'd much rather take you to a hospital or something, first; make sure you're on the road to recovery. I could only do so much and wouldn't feel right if you collapsed again." It was something he said with great concern for her well being and though she wanted to challenge it; tell him how much of a bad idea that would be for her, she couldn't. She didn't have the energy to reject his concern.

"...then fair enough," she reluctantly started, "I'll have myself checked at a hospital, if you'll take me to Oreburgh straight after." His face seemed to brighten a little; seemingly happy at the response he got from her.
"Great. I'll go get everything ready," he said, but paused just as he was about to leave the room; "Oh... there's not much you can wear to replace your damaged clothes, but you can have a look to see if you can find anything in the wardrobe on the right." He then wandered off, the noise of the TV instantly fading a few moments later.

She smiled at how kind Ralph was, when she noticed the Flareon sat on the bed once again, staring up at her. She stroked the Fire-type behind its ear; it making sounds in a happy manner. She'd always liked Pokémon like Flareon; they made amazing companions.

"Oh, that's right," she muttered quietly to herself in almost a whisper; "I left my Pokémon at HQ... well, I'll have to show you my friend another time," she happily said to the Flareon; at least as happy as she could muster, as the Flareon seemed to respond in a gleeful manner.
"But right now, I need to get some clean clothes." She carefully got out of the bed, pulling the covers away from her; the sudden movement made her feel a little dizzy, forcing her to sit down on the bed for a moment before standing and walking over to the wardrobe. 'He's probably right; I should really get myself checked out,' she thought to herself, as she pulled open the wardrobe doors. She still needed to avenge Fletcher... and find everyone else; it was blinded by her rage, but she had realised the mention of a single death indicated that everyone was still alive.

With that new-found hope, she would press on.

A/N: Well, that's Chapter 2 for you few folks who are keeping track of this story! Once again, I'll state that Reviews of almost any kind are appreciated; if they're in criticism, please make it constructive so I can work on trying to rectify my low-to-average writing skills... heh...

Anyway, I hope you all stick around for Chapter 3. As of adding this Chapter, I haven't thought of how to advance the tale much, but you should see it soon enough.
YukitheRedFox, headin' out!