Suggestive content.

It's about what I'd expect really, just look at him. Are you really surprised?

Yes, I agree, it's exactly what you'd think. Disgusting, if you ask me. Who does that?

I don't believe for a second she was telling the truth, probably terrified her into lying.

Can't exactly take her away, not really our position to do so since he's a tourist and there'd be murmurs if we did anything.

But really, what do you expect from someone from Hoenn?

Those last few words seemed to reverberate in Johannes's mind, growing louder and more dissonant until a firm, chiming voice rang in his head. "Enough."

His eyes peeled open and revealed mostly the top of Viola's head resting against his chest. He lifted his head and stretched his neck, groaning with relief. "Sorry Viola, what was that?" he mumbled, mostly into the crown of her head. He had not slept well the past few days; the deportation was weighing rather heavily on his mind and on his sleep.

Viola pulled her head off his chest and smoothed out her dress. "This one has been hearing the voices in her master's head for the past few nights," she said matter-of-factly, "And it has begun to weigh heavy on her as well. She has been more than willing to overlook her inability to properly procreate with you successfully, but it would seem that you are having difficulty overlooking our deportation."

He tilted his head back against the headrest of his seat and sighed. She was right, that was indisputable. Still, he felt the usual pull to wallow in self-pity and worry and so he looked out the window to avoid answering immediately. The oranges and reds the rising sun cast out on the water had given way to clean, uniform blueness. He had been sleeping for a few hours now, he figured.

A soft caress ran across his face. He should relent, he thought, it was only fair. He would not, however, be given that option, as the soft petals of her hand grasped his chin and turned his head to face him. He was at once embarrassed, impressed and proud, and it made for a strange and uncomfortable mixture in his stomach. His teaching was having an effect, and each day it seemed he was more impacting than he expected himself to be. He knew it was impossible, but it was now as if Viola was looking down at him, a paradoxical smile upon her face, etched out of reprove and concern. "Johannes, you're worrying too much. Things will be fine."

He drew Viola into an embrace and softly caressed her head. "I don't remember teaching you how to chastise me," he said, half-chuckling. He kissed the crown of her head. "I was worried more about what might have been. And I really shouldn't be."

"What worried you?" chimed Viola. "That I'd be taken away? That's impossible. I wouldn't let them." Johannes tore his eyes open. "Or was it something else? Some kind of thought you've hidden away because it hurts too much to contemplate?"

Johannes gently pushed Viola away from him, his hands grasping her shoulders. He looked her in the face and said quietly, seriously, "Viola – what are you getting at?" It was a redundant question really, but it had been on his mind that past few days more than he cared it to be. He knew, since the beginning more or less, that a time might come, fear it as he might, that she would choose how she presented herself to others. The answer was coming, too soon, much too soon. But perhaps he'd done enough – he always dared to hope, though the sick turning in his gut checked it.

Again, soft petals ran down his cheek, and her voice, quiet and harmonious, echoed in his mind. "You fear that they would take me from you because this one is the property of her master. But they would not know me as your companion, but your partner. Viola. I will not hide in the shadow of your title and feign innocence about our actions." She kissed him and rested her head against his chest once more. "I fall with you, Johannes. And for you, if need be."

He said nothing in response to her words, fearing that anything he could drum up failed to do her tender words justice. He settled on embracing her, desperately hoping the action alone would save him where words failed. Musical hums and soft colors played across the backdrop of his mind. Perhaps it was enough.

The long path that led to his home was slick with rain and partially obscured by overgrown vegetation. The transfer from ferry to train and train to foot had been completed almost entirely in silence and it worried Johannes. He should have said something, but nothing that came to mind seemed to be enough. Yet Viola seemed utterly unperturbed. The quite melodies playing across his mind that he'd come to associate with contentedness had never stopped. He was over-thinking things, he thought. She was content – he too should have been. And yet he felt he owed her something. Anything.

He turned the key to his front door and breathed in the scent of stale air. It had been two long years since he was last home. He pulled his backpack off and considered it. They wouldn't be lingering, so he tossed it next to the door. With a sigh he walked into the living room and tossed it onto a musty armchair before looking back at Viola. "I guess...Home, sweet home?" Viola gave him a small smile in return and psychically cracked the windows in the living room.

He should not have felt so awkward, but it felt to him as if he'd only made it more apparent to her that he should say something. He grasped wildly for anything to spare him having to confront this and blurted out, "Let's have a nice dinner. It's a special occasion isn't it?" She gave him another smile and nodded.

He wasn't much of a cook. Perpetually alternating between cooking campfire food and eating at restaurants had left Johannes with an acute understanding of how to grill just about anything and little more. He was grateful an old colleague of his from school had left some food in his refrigerator after he phoned him with the news that he'd be returning, but with only a couple of day's worth of food or so, there was precious little room for error. Still, the chicken was at least cooked through, if a bit dry, the potatoes were appropriately creamy now that he'd mashed them, if bland, and the bread had only burnt slightly in his oven. He looked down at his plate, thoroughly unsatisfied and then across at Viola. She gave him a knowing smile and mused, "You worry too much Johannes."

He sighed. "It's not that, I just wanted to do something nice. Something to make up for saying nothing and making it seem like I don't care about what you said. But I haven't got the slightest idea what to say. I'm guessing more and more as I teach you and pretty soon I'll only be guessing. I don't mind I just have to wonder if some day I'll do something wrong." He stopped. "I guess I do worry too much."

Viola rose and sat down on his lap, bringing the delicate petals to his face. "This one has erred. So too will you," said the placid chimes in his head, "And we shall continue along regardless. It is unavoidable, and so we will take it in grace."

He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers. "You know everything that's been bugging me all day, right? You know everything about me."

Viola shook her head. "I do not pry when I can manage it." Her tone was sheepish. Clearly, she pried quite a bit. "Perhaps that is not terribly often, but I try. As do you."

He sat back in his chair and considered her, before his face split into a grin. "That's my sweater."

Viola looked down and then back up at him, a bright red flush forming against the stark white of her cheeks. "Forgive this one, she...was curious." She withdrew her hands into the sleeves and flapped them lightly. "This is delightful."

"Keep it. Winter's on the way," he said warmly. "Gives me something to pull off of you too." She turned away from him, flapping a limp sleeve wildly at him. He chuckled and kissed her. "Let me clean up and I'll see if we can't find something to do." He frowned. "That isn't cleaning anyway." He tossed the dishes unceremoniously in the sink and turned about to find Viola gone. "Viola?" He stepped into the living room and found her rummaging in his backpack. "What are you looking for?"

She produced a box of matches from the bag. "Even with this sweater, this one is rather cold." She had a point; the air was less stale now, but the windows had let in a draft.

"Close the windows, I'll start a fire." She nodded, and immediately after, the sounds of the windows snapping shut rang throughout the room. He fiddled with the gas valve and ignition on the fireplace for a few minutes before it lit itself properly. He plopped himself down next to Viola and put his arm over her to pull her in close. "It'll be a bit before it gets warm, but I think I can make do." He gave her a sly grin.

Viola buried her face in her hands and nestled against him. "You are determined to embarrass me," she whined. He chuckled and pulled her free of her hands to kiss her. It was at this moment that he realized he was home. He and his partner were alone, free from prying eyes and judging scowls, from admonishment and outright disgust. Free, if only for a moment, before they inevitably set out again to wander the globe. His hands moved almost automatically down to the hem of her sweater and pulled up; it caught for a moment on her head and after he tugged it free he kissed her. They fell back against the couch, deeper into blissful oblivion. Viola stopped for a moment and gasped for air. "Johannes? What brought this on?"

His answer was thoroughly nonverbal.

It was a sort of loop that the two had found themselves in. One would stop, short of breath, slick with sweat and entirely spent, and the other would begin again just a few moments afterward. Johannes recalled having stopped long enough for the two to eat perhaps twice, and both occasions ended with rather reckless use of his kitchen table.

He stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, his entire body aching. Images of the last two and a half days floated across his mind. Stumbling, tripping, writhing, rolling, blinded, zealous, obsessive sex. Each time ended with him more tired than the last, and each beginning started with him only more aroused. He looked for a moment at Viola and the back to the ceiling.

It had been the same for her too. The images and sounds in his head were usually clearer than his own memory, and they usually showcased a vignette of times long past spent in the lonely woods, blurring the edges of his vision with scenes of past times. But they had blurred and distorted with each passing hour over the last few days. Images exploded out of each other, melted into new ones and formed strange shapes and colors of entwined bodies and colliding landscapes. The sounds of the present flowed into the sounds of the past and each bounced off the waves the other created. He heard many copies of himself and (incredibly) embarrassing sweet nothings juxtaposed against the dainty tones of Viola's actual voice and the musical notes within his head. They had rattled and bounced about in his skull, exploding into still more sounds that became shapes, then forms, then himself and Viola and by the third morning were an indescribable blur of color and sound so loud it threatened to explode out of his very head.

And as he laid upon his mattress and contemplated the ceiling he realized how terribly tired his very mind felt. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed. More so than his body, even. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and noticed his PokeDex laying innocently upon the stand.

Realization struck him so forcefully he felt idiotic: she was intensely attuned to his emotions. It was the mark of her lineage. Like a microphone that picks up the sound of the very speaker it is attached to, she echoed the sounds of his heart. And he echoed them right back to her. Again and again, until at last one gave out. Johannes grinned in spite of himself. He harbored a spot of pride that he wasn't first. Immediately behind her, yes, but not first.

He set about cooking breakfast (though it was nearly two in the afternoon) and when Viola had walked into the kitchen, bleary eyed and yawning, he had nearly finished. He felt slight arms wrap around his midsection and heard an odd, rough tone in his head. "Good morning..." Behind him he heard Viola yawn widely before he felt her head slump against his back.

"Sit down Viola," he chuckled, "You'll feel better after you've got some food in you." She complied and he joined her shortly after with a plate of eggs and toast. "Tired?"

Viola nodded and took a mouthful of toast. "Extremely," said the chimes, "But not unfulfilled." She gave Johannes a small smile before she took another bite of toast. "This one is having some difficulty recalling the last few days accurately, however."

He nodded. "Same here, but I guess I can kind of understand why," he mused. He caught her eye and looked away in mild embarrassment. "I thought this homecoming was going to be kind of sad. Getting kicked out of a region isn't exactly my idea of fun."

Viola pushed her eggs from one side of the plate to other for a moment before she looked up at Johannes, a smile he could only describe as self-satisfied upon her face. "I suppose getting caught fellating you turned out for the better then?"

Johannes choked on his toast.

Free Talk: I attribute this never-before-seen update schedule of two works within a week to a friend of mine pestering me to write. I'm not happy with this chapter, but I've read over it more times than I'd like to admit, but after becoming stuck on three separate paragraphs (of varying importance to the narrative no less) I decided on throwing caution to the wind and simply accepting a dip in quality. Then I went back and revised everything in a cold sweat because I shouldn't callously drop my standards. And I'm still not happy with it. I most certainly hope you are. Until next time!