Professor Birch's lab was smaller than I'd thought it would be, or at least it seemed so if I didn't look up. Its high rounded ceiling gave it the illusion of size, but one only had to focus on the ground to see that this place was in desperate need of some kind of addition. There were shelves crammed with books shoved against the walls and tables piled high with papers so close to each other I wasn't sure how his assistants actually sat down. Against the back wall, in what I assumed to be Birch's "office" was the large machine I'd seen in Pokémon centers, flanked by two large tables holding books, loose-leaf paper, and one with a few pokeballs.

A few seconds after we stepped inside, Stephen leapt off my shoulder and bounded towards the machine, nearly falling underfoot of two scientists, who were too busy mumbling and staring at their clipboards to pay him any mind. That he wanted to reach it so much meant he must be tired, but…I shook my head. Even exhausted, he had too much energy.

"Aster!" Birch called from behind me.

A man in a lab-coat poked his head up from a book at the table nearest to us. "Yes, Professor?"

"Help Krystal operate the Rejuvenation Apparatus. I should tend to this—" he gestured to his leg "—before it gets infected."

Aster paled slightly when he saw the professor's wound, "Professor Birch, what—?"

"Later. For now, just get her Pokémon taken care of." Birch slapped Aster on the shoulder, before limping off towards the back of the lab and through a small, nearly completely hidden door.

Aster and I both stared after him for a few moments, then the assistant cleared his throat, "Right, well, um, follow me, please."

We reached the machine without another word, greeted by Stephen's excited thumping of his feet on the glass dome of the machine. Beneath the glass, I saw six small, round indentures in the black base, forming a rectangle.

I reached into my pocket, ready to return Stephen to it.

Aster stopped me. "That's not necessary," he smiled. "Your Mudkip's small enough that he can fit outside the pokeball."

The scientist pressed a sequence of buttons and the dome slid to one side. Stephen leapt onto the black surface immediately, ran in a small circle, and then sat down, smiling as always as he looked from me to Aster and then back to me.

"He seems to be in good enough condition to me. Shouldn't need much more than a catnap," Aster chuckled, as another set of buttons returned the dome to its original position.

Before my eyes, the space inside the dome began to glow pink, changing Stephen an interesting shade of purple. As the light grew, Stephen yawned, and then lay on his stomach. His eyes fell closed almost immediately. Odd that so much energy could be sapped so quickly.

I stared at him for a moment as he slept. My eyes widened as a scratch on his side began to heal while I watched. I'd seen these machines before, but I'd never actually gotten to use one before, let alone watch the Pokémon physically heal before me.

"It uses technology very similar to that of a pokeball," Aster told me, seeing my wonder. "Air comes in and out while the Pokémon remains, though, obviously, it heals wounds rather than merely containing the creature."

"If only we could utilize that technology for use on humans," I grinned, tipping my head towards the door through which Professor Birch had exited.

Aster sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid humans are much more difficult to heal than Pokémon...Say, uh…Krystal, correct?"

I nodded.

"Could you tell me what happened? To Professor Birch?"

"It's no big deal, really," I assured him, trying to calm his slowly fraying nerves. "He accidentally disturbed a Zigzagoon's nest out in the tall grass. It was a mother and her cubs. The mother got his leg before I showed up, but it's not that bad."

Aster sighed, falling into the chair nearest to the machine. "We're always telling him to be careful when researching on his own!" He sighed again. "And I suppose you were the one who came to his aid, right?"

"Pretty much, yeah," I told him bluntly, chuckling. "Stephen and I fought it off."

He looked up at me, apology clear in his expression, "I'm sorry you had to go through the trouble of rescuing him."

"No, no," I said, "really. Don't worry about it."

Aster nodded, running his hand over the back of his neck as he tried to take my words to heart…and apparently failed at it. Was this kind of thing really routine? Was Birch just that reckless? I took the chair next to the professor's assistant while he brooded, eyes wandering towards the rows of pokeballs not far from me on the table. Furthest to the back, the row contained a full six. The one in the front held two, with the third having been removed from the beginning of the row.

"Who's in these?" I asked, partly out of genuine curiosity, and partly to try and get Aster's mind onto another subject. I couldn't stand seeing him so miserable…

He looked up, confused, then he saw where my eyes were. "Oh…Yes, those are the other starter Pokémon. Professor Birch is the only one in the region with the authority to hand out starter Pokémon, so anyone wanting to start a journey—at least more easily—has to come here. We're actually expecting quite a few new trainers to arrive in the next few weeks."

"Makes sense why there's so many…" Something occurred to me, then; my brow furrowed. "But then why'd he have the pokeballs on him on Route 101?"

"To avoid scenarios just like the one you saved him from," Aster laughed and then sighed. "Apparently it never occurred to him that the attacker could separate him from his briefcase. Or to just keep them on his hip. I swear, the man's a genius but sometimes he has no common sense."

I chuckled, twirling one of the pokeballs around with my finger. I wondered if there was another Mudkip in it, or if a press of the button would send out the tiny firebird or little green gecko. I moved my hand to the next one, feeling the smooth surface beneath the grooves of my skin, and wondering the same thing all over again.

What would have happened to Stephen, I wondered, if the ball I'd lifted from the briefcase had contained Torchic or Treecko? Who would've eventually found him and…would I have ever ended up battling him? All interesting thoughts as my eyes drifted to his form, sleeping soundly beneath the blanket of warm pink light.

"You should count yourself lucky," Aster said, breaking me from my reverie. "You got the first pick of Pokémon, even if it was accidentally."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I smiled. "Though it doesn't look like I'm the first to choose my Pokémon."

"Hm?" he blinked, then followed my eyes to the blank space at the beginning of the row. "Oh, yes. Well, you're the first among the impending mass of trainers to get your Pokémon, anyway. This one was actually taken by Professor Birch's son earlier today."

My smile was gone in a flash. I turned immediately to face Aster. "He has a son!" In all the years I'd spent corresponding with him, he'd never once mentioned he had a child, let alone a son who was a fellow Pokémon trainer!

Aster jumped in his chair, face going white. "U-um…Darn it! I really shouldn't have said that…!"

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Well...Nothing it's just…Mmm…" Aster leaned back in his chair. "The Professor doesn't really like to talk about him much."

I leaned forward. "But why?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. I've only been working here just shy of a year and it was only a few weeks ago that I heard of him. And even then it was completely by chance. The professor received a letter from him and I asked an older member of the staff about the name on the return address."

"That's…odd…" I looked back at the door. Professor Birch was one of the most…shall we say, vocal people I knew. Dad was always telling me stories of how he'd go on for hours about his friends, his research, anything and everything. Frankly, he would talk about so much so long that I was shocked this man didn't already know who I was. If he had a son, he should spend days telling anyone who'd listen about him. So why…?

"Krystal."

I turned back to Aster, "What?"

The scientists face grew suddenly and intensely serious. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Do me a favor, and please don't tell the professor I told you about him."

"But why not? The professor and I go way back. I'm sure he'd tell me more if I just—"

Aster raised his hand to cut me off. "Let me put it this way. That letter with his son's name on it…I found it, unopened, in the garbage."

"Oh…" I looked down at the missing pokeball, questions burning on my tongue, but I swallowed them all. "I understand."

"Thank you," Aster rose, a smile spreading across his face so smoothly it was as though it had never left. "Now then, I think it's about time your Mudkip—Stephen was his name?—was waking up."

Sure enough, as if on cue, I turned to see Stephen's little eyes opening and the light gently starting to fade. I stood before the machine while Aster pressed that same combination of buttons and the dome slid down. Still groggy, Stephen looked up at me, the gentle smile on his face—present even while he slept.

I took him in my arms, waiting for him to fully awaken before making him cling to my shoulder, and then turned to Aster. "Thank you for letting him rest, Aster. We both really appreciate it."

"My pleasure, Krystal. I'll tell Professor Birch you've left." He reached out and patted Stephen on the head. "You take care little guy, alright?"

Stephen nodded vaguely, barely aware of the world.

"At least tell me his name," I whispered, smiling for appearances alone.

For a moment, Aster just continued to stroke Stephen's head. But then he looked up at me, grinning despite his austere gaze.

He straightened up, removing his hand and wiping it on his coat. Our eyes didn't leave one another's.

"…Grey."

I quickly logged away what I'd learned from Aster, forcing it reluctantly into the back of my mind. Curious as I was, there were more important things I had to be worrying about now.

Stephen turned over in my arms when we exited the lab, hiding his still-vulnerable eyes from the bright afternoon sun. "Muud..." he grumbled, his face pressed against the fold of my elbow.

"Oh, come on, you weren't even asleep for that long!"

"Kip," he replied shortly.

"Whatever," I sighed. "Just wake up quickly, alright? I'm going to need that smile of yours right now, Stephen."

"Mudkip?" He poked his head out, curiosity trumping discomfort. I assumed he looked up at me, expecting an explanation, but I could only look straight ahead at our new house, the moving truck and its trained Pokémon long gone.

They were there again, those tiny shards of guilt jabbing into my gut as we approached my house. Even with all my determination, all my certainty, I knew they'd be there. Because I loved my mother, and no matter what she said or what she did, I'd be leaving Littleroot as soon as possible; leaving her alone to wait for letters or phone calls—both of which Dad sent us often, and I would be sure to, as well, but which were far from an adequate replacement for her family. That was how she saw it, anyway. She'd told me so in the way she looked when she read those letters, in her voice when she said goodbye into the receiver. And that had been while she had my company. Not even having that anymore…It would break her heart.

I stepped up onto the porch and stopped before the door. Stephen bumped my chin with his head-fin and I looked down, eyebrows rising when I saw he looked up at me with a sad, almost concerned expression. Impossible…He could actually not smile?

Grinning, I lifted him up, holding him at eye level with me. "Don't look like that, Stephen. What did I just say?"

He tilted his head, face unchanging.

"It'll be fine. I've got you now, and I'm not letting you go. No matter what, we're bound for the Pokémon League, and she…she'll be fine after a little bit. Now, c'mon, stop worrying and just…smile for me, okay? Smile for me and her."

Silently, he nodded, and he did smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

That was close enough for me. I placed him on my shoulder and opened the door.

Mom was busy hustling around the kitchen, putting our various breakable and stainless-steel articles in drawers and cabinets. Her hair was pulled back and disheveled, a few short strands sticking to the back of her neck. Only a few boxes remained in the living-room—most of them belonging to me. The low murmuring of a news anchor played beneath the scene, pouring through small holes beneath an unnaturally-lit screen. Mom didn't realize anything had changed until I shut the door.

"Ah, is that you, Krystal?" she called without turning around, stretching to put a stack of plates onto the highest shelf. She grunted with the effort, and then when the dishes were safely in place she stood before them triumphantly, raising a hand to wipe sweat from her brow. "You've been gone a while—" she started to turn around "—I guess you had…"

She had been smiling. Forcing emotion away from my face, I watched it slowly fade as her eyes found Stephen. He shifted on my shoulder, but I didn't know his expression. I kept my eyes on my mother.

For a long time, we stayed that way. I'm not sure what emotion I was looking for during that time, while I remained focused on my mom's face, but she betrayed nothing, remaining as stoic as I'd made myself to look. Even her eyes were blank, brown and empty as the desert. But I could imagine what was going on inside her head, what feelings she was keeping silently restrained, as she stared at the proof that the day she'd never wanted to come had arrived.

Suddenly, the dam gave way and emotion flooded her face. Her cheeks flushed red and her limp hands hardened into fists. Her head snapped fiercely in my direction, sending her sweat-soaked hair whipping about her face.

"Where did you get this!" she shrieked.

I flinched, unable to stop myself from taking a step back. To say that my mother never got angry wouldn't be far from the truth; even when she was, she never raised her voice. Her burning eyes and blood-tinged skin were things I'd never seen before, wasn't expecting to see now, and it struck me cold, shaking my indelible wall of confidence.

"F-From Professor Birch…" I cleared my throat, despising my quiet, stammering voice. I cleared my throat quickly and tried again, "From Professor Birch."

"You asked him for a Pokémon! Without my permission!"

"It wasn't like that mom. It was an accident!"

"Accident!" she repeated

I didn't really like the idea of telling her exactly how I received Stephen, as it would no doubt make things far worse than they already were, but I had no intention of lying to her. So I told her everything, albeit succinctly, up until I'd entered Birch's lab. And as I relived it all in my head, though I spared details in words, I became gradually aware of Stephen's weight on my shoulder. I focused on that sensation, recalling that weight as it had been in my hands moments after our victory, and I could feel that quaking fear beginning to cease, feel that powerful certainty returning as my thoughts turned only to him, and something else with it.

Anger.

All of the anger and frustration that had been building within me for years was surging to the surface. I hated that I could tell her every detail of my first battle with Stephen and she wouldn't understand what it meant to me; that she never had, never would, and never could understand what being with Pokémon meant to me. I hated that she was keeping me from fulfilling my dream when it was right in front of me—that it had finally taken this accident to get me that close to it. But more than that, I hated that she'd made me feel doubt, even for a second, that I'd be able to fulfill it at all.

Just before I finished, she cut me off. "You put your life in the hands of this…thing?" She laughed bitterly, "I almost wish it had been so simple as you disobeying me, Krystal! Do you have any idea how—?"

"How dangerous wild Pokémon can be?" I threw her words back at her. "That's all you've ever told me!"

"Well, clearly, you haven't been listening!"

I felt something snap.

"I haven't been listening? What right do you have to tell me that! I've been begging you to let me get a Pokémon of my own all my life and you just threw me into Trainer School for thirteen years!"

"You weren't ready for a Pokémon yet! I was doing what was best for you!"

"No, mom!" I roared, taking a step forward. "You were doing what was best for you! You've always done what was best for you!"

Mom took a step back, aghast. I could see fear in her eyes and some part of me hated myself for putting it there, but a stronger part of me didn't care.

"You put me in that school because you knew it would keep me home, because you were too scared of being alone to let me do what I wanted to do. If it were up to you, I'd stay here forever and become just like you are: Weak, afraid, and alone. Well, I'm not leaving it up to you. I didn't come here to ask for your permission to leave. I came here to tell you."

That fear took over her entire expression as my words sank in. I watched it spread from her eyes over her cheeks, and then radiate down to her hands, softening them and raising them to her chest, just over her heart.

"W-What…?"

"You're not stopping me, mom." I stared straight into her eyes. "Not anymore. I'm going to the Pokémon League with Stephen and there's nothing you can do about it."

Right before my eyes, she broke down not into tears, but into violent tremors. She shook her head slowly, clutching at her shirt. "No…No, no, y-you're not…"

I looked away, unable to stand seeing her this way anymore. It broke my heart to be hurting her as bad as I was and I wanted to apologize, to voice the remorse that lay buried beneath all my anger and determination, but…I knew what would happen if I did.

"I'll be sure to call and write you," I assured her, starting to turn, feeling my serious expression wavering. "Goodbuh—"

"Krystal, no!"

I felt her arms wind tightly, almost painfully so, around me. I turned to find her face right next to mine. Her cheeks were still red and she shook all over, but her eyes were brimming with something else.

"Please don't leave me!" she sobbed, salty rivers pouring down her face. "Don't leave me alone, please. I love you. No matter what, I've always loved you. So please…Please…"

She buried her face in my shoulder, pleading with me in muffled tones.

"I know, Mom," I murmured gently. "I know. And I love you, too."

I lifted my arms slowly, moving hers in the process as they pinned them to my sides, and placed them around her shoulders. Hers returned swiftly to their place, her hands clutching my back.

"Do what's best for me now, and let me go."

She began to sob loudly, her tears soaking through my shirt. I held her tighter, fearing I might crush her; she was that small and fragile within my grasp.

Neither of us said anything more, and the house became silent except for her sobs and the mumbling of the television. I shut my eyes and laid my cheek on her head, rocking her back and forth as she cried. And I wondered how many times before that I'd been a child crying in her arms, desperate for the warmth of my mother and her gentle swaying to comfort me.

Even after her tears had dried, we stayed that way for a long time, eventually becoming still and remaining motionless in each other's arms.

Until, at last, she pulled away and looked up at me, her eyes swollen and red, but no longer afraid of what they beheld.

"Stay here tonight," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I promise I won't stand in your way tomorrow morning. Just, please…Give me tonight."

"Alright." I kissed her tear-stained cheek, a tiny smile on my face.

Only then did I notice that Stephen had left my shoulder for hers, and as I watched he gently nuzzled her other cheek, smiling warmly when she looked over. She jumped, surprised at the contact, and they just stared at each other for a moment. Then, smiling a small, forced, awkward smile, my mom slowly lifted her hand to his forehead, stroking his damp, blue skin.

I laughed so hard I cried.

HARDEST chapter to far, let ME tell YOU! Probably because it was so dialogue heavy, which I ALWAYS have trouble with. However, it wasn't actually until near the very end that I had problems, and I was helped through them by my Editor-in-Chief^^ Thanks to his input, I was able to think on the character of Krystal's mom a little more and decide where I wanted to go with her, and thus…this was born. (I felt like Krystal got really mean, and I hated myself a little while I was writing it…But I guess that's a good thing? *shrug*

I REALLY liked the ending of this one, too! I was stuck for a few minutes after Krystal's last line and KNEW I wanted something else, but wasn't sure what…What I got was one of my first thoughts and I think it worked out quite well!

And what of the mysterious "Grey"? Why does his father hate him so? Will Krystal ever see him!

Who knows~? :3