Only Way Forward

"Devon Dwyer, eldest of three. She'd recently moved to Sinnoh with her family and now seeks to start her journey with her very own Pokémon. What could possibly go wrong..."

Chapter 4 - A legend is borne

8-8

It almost feels like my head is spinning. I never thought there would be so many things to arrange, to know. Naturally, with my current partner in crime being a nurse, I'm brought to the Daycare and introduced to the world of trainers. Well and truly introduced.

Baby formula. Bottles. Sterilizing equipment. Nappies. A bag for berries, though I'm carefully explained not to offer Espurr any berries until Jen gives me the greenlight. I'm also handed a book to track all appointments for Espurr – including a growth chart for weight, height, and other measurements.

I find out that Espurr is quite small, even for her age. Jen is quick to point out that there's always a 'runt' in a litter, and that's probably why the trainer abandoned the egg? Not sure how I feel about that, but anger is definitely in the mix.

I'm given a book on caring for Pokemon – a general one, but I'm explained where to find the chapter on baby Pokemon. Another book on caring for Psychic Type Pokemon, again the chapter on babies is pointed out. And a third on caring for Espurrs – this one thankfully thinner than the other two. I'm also given five Pokeballs, along with a basic explanation on how they work – one press does this, one turn does that… I may have stopped listening at some point, so I'm given a book instead. As well, and not entirely unimportant, I'm also given a Pokedex.

My own Pokedex. A pink and red one – not sure how I feel about that. Not that I feel any way about pink, but it's always just been another colour to me. Jen even shows me how to register people's numbers by using hers as an example.

She calls me to show me it works. The tune that gets played, though…some kind of weird buzzing-beeping sound… that's getting changed. Jen also takes her time to explain the emergency numbers – police, Daycare, ambulance, Rangers, the works. She leaves nothing up to chance.

As if that isn't enough, she drags me out to the field, out into the wild. She shows me how to catch a wild Pokemon. All the while, Espurr is coming with me. She doesn't seem to like being too far from me, shyly clinging to my leg whenever she doesn't trust the situation. Not that I blame her. I'm just happy she trusts me enough to come to me when she gets nervous.

With another busy morning behind me, I head home with Espurr sleeping in my arms. Poor thing is all tuckered out from running around. Not that I blame her. I feel like taking a nice long nap myself.

I wave to Jen, thanking her for everything, then bring the sleepy little tyke into the house and up into my room. I lay her on my bed, so I can get down to business. The first thing I do, logically, is read up on Espurrs – though it mostly explains details about when they're already full-grown.

It's interesting – especially the bits about sexual dimorphism, and the differences I can expect because of Espurr's sex. But it doesn't really explain what Espurr needs now. So instead I open the book on Psychic Types, already flipping to the chapter on babies.

Hmm.

Bitter flavours are typically more popular with Psychic types, though the author carefully points out that exceptions happen. Berries types and flavours? Interesting, but not something I need for now. Hmm. Ah! Healthy nursing habits… Every two to three hours, even in the middle of the night. Well, Julie isn't much different, so I think I can handle that. I need to monitor her eating and pooping habits. Again, nothing new.

Hmm, housebreaking. It's better not to do the newspapers thing? There's a newspapers thing? Psychic Types are far more intellectual beings, who are therefore far more likely to see this treatment as insulting and degrading? Well, that makes sense. I mean, I wouldn't feel any different if anyone wanted me to pee on newspapers!

Hmm. Potty training is preferable, some willing to start as young as six weeks. Interesting. I remember Jen saying that Espurr is a week old, so that will come. Until then, nappies are highly recommended. And be wary what you think around Psychic Types? Ah, they have a tendency to read their trainer's thoughts, whether they (the Pokemon) want to or not. It's also advisable to be mindful of odd thoughts and urges while around young Psychic Types, they might unwittingly transfer their thoughts and/or urges onto their trainer – though it isn't very common once they learn to control their powers. That's a bit unnerving, but it's part of the package.

Let's see, what else do I need to know…?

8-8

"Jake!" I cringe, silently praying that name could just be erased from everyone's memory. "Could you come give me a hand?"

I make my way out of my room, picking up Espurr at the top of the stairs so she doesn't get tempted to try her luck – she's quick to want to walk on her own, once we're downstairs, but I still have to be careful with her habit of hiding between my legs.

Mom is in the living room, breastfeeding Julie, while John is throwing a tantrum – apparently, he doesn't understand why Julie can breastfeed, but he can't.

"Sweetie, would you mind helping your brother with his snack?" mom asks, obviously not even noticing the slip-up. Or the Pokemon shyly clinging to my leg. I nod, beckoning to John to come with me.

"But mo~oooooommy~yyyyyyyy!" John complains, obviously still upset about something.

"Now, now, little man. Don't you want your snack?" I ask, trying to distract him. I pick up the apple, wondering why mom didn't call me earlier. Then again, maybe I should try helping out so she doesn't get so frustrated, as she obviously is. "Do you want strawberry milk?"

"Tank you, Jake!" he enthuses, beaming. I sigh. And things were going so well, too.

8-8

"Jake?"

"Jake!"

"JAKE?!"

Over, and over. And over. That name. Always that name. I try being pre-emptive, helping mom before she calls for me. I try correcting her, but she's so frustrated from dealing with John, who seems intent on driving her up a wall today that she brushes me off each time – or he's starting to get jealous that Julie gets so much of her attention… which wouldn't be the first time. Though, honestly, it could also be because he sees me with Espurr more often than not today… it's possible that he sees what little attention he currently gets being divided once again, and he might not like that.

That doesn't excuse everyone calling me that name! Or anyone, for that matter.

After four hours of putting up with it, I decide to take Espurr into my room, claiming it's because of her nap. Though it's also true, it's barely half the story.

I take my time feeding her, smiling as warmly as I can. I make sure to burp her – just as I used to with John when he was on formula. I don't know if it's needed –the book didn't say anything about it– but I'd rather be overly cautious, just in case. And she really does burp, so I assume she needed it.

Once she's done, I clean her with a damp cloth and carefully lay her on my pillow, letting her sniff and pad it with her paws, and study her as she murmurs her name over and over, softer each time. Soon, her light snores are all I hear.

With everything handled, I plop onto the floor in the middle of my room.

And I cry.

Tears of frustration, of betrayal. I know, I understand. Mom was just busy, overwhelmed with everything that was going on. It's not that she wanted to hurt me, or that she was going out of her way to be callous. Life is just asking more from her than she has to offer. I understand, I know…

It doesn't hurt less. It doesn't feel like any less of a slap in my face. Knowing that she knows. That she truly knows how much that name hurts me. It just… it hurts.

Things were going so well. Everything seemed so perfect. For once in my life, I didn't feel like a stranger in my own skin…

I… I thought I could finally breathe.

Was it just an illusion? A delayed side effect from the concussion, maybe? I… I don't understand. Am I deluding myself? Can I truly be myself here?

No. Devon, stop it. Mom loves me. She truly loves me, as I am. Not just as I present myself to be. I… I need to talk to her, to help her to understand what I'm going through. To remind her, to give her a chance…

I… My poor little Espurr doesn't deserve a life on the run… I will if I have to… but I… no. Mom's shown me that I don't… that I shouldn't have to.

…

Yeah, I'll talk to her later, after we've both had a chance to catch our breath.

8-8

Sitting down to the table, I find myself helping John – per the norm, these days. After he's eaten, I make Espurr's bottle and feed her. The whole time I find myself wondering at mom's not so subtle frown. She's busy breastfeeding Julie, holding her just as carefully as she ever would. Yet, she just seems out of it, upset almost. Why?

Is… is she finally realizing that…

No, Devon. Stop it.

Then again, maybe she was just trying to play nice with me to get me to stay and help with John and Julie… Yeah, that must be it. Well… if that's the way it is, fine. It's not ideal, but… well, it could be worse.

Once Espurr's had her fill, I burp her and sit her in John's old highchair to keep her out of trouble. Then I take her bottle and John's plate into the kitchen and wash them, dry them, and set them in their proper place. I make my way back to the table, and start methodically working in my own dinner.

"Wha'ssa madder, Jake?" I flinch at John's innocent question – or, more accurately, the name. I don't turn to him, nor do I bother check if he's making an utter mess of his dessert, his face, or anything.

"N-nothing," I say, taking another bite. I wait, wondering if I should bother correcting him for the thousandth time today, or if mom will actually say –or do– something, anything.

Nothing comes.

"Es espurr!" Espurr announces, slapping her paws on the tabletop in front of her. She's frowning about something, but I don't really know why. I smile at her, hoping to get her to smile a little, or to assure her that I'm okay, if that's what has her worried. Her little owlish eyes study me, but she doesn't seem to like what she sees.

Taking the last bite I can stomach, I pick up my plate and bring it into the kitchen and deal with that. I throw away the last of my food, as usual. I wash my plate and chopsticks, putting them away.

With nothing else to do, I head back to the table and clean up John. I turn on the tv, knowing he still has about a half hour before bathtime, and bedtime not long after.

A wet, squishy farting sound comes from Julie – no doubt her bowels announcing how happy they are her belly's full. I sigh, knowing exactly what that means.

Without even waiting for the request, I head upstairs to get Julie's things. I set them on the table for mom, and I grab Espurr, lifting her up out of the highchair. With that, I head upstairs without a word.

8-8

Knock, Knock.

"Can I come in, sweetie?" I hear mom from the other side of the door. I noise, unsure if I'm ready to talk to her just yet. I don't look up from Espurr, wanting nothing more than to see the sweet innocence of her sleeping form. I hear the door slide open, I see mom entering from the corner of my eye. As much as I don't want to, I see the troubled look in her eyes, the unshed tears.

I sigh. "Y-yes?" She winces, I sigh again.

"..." I see her working her mouth, though not a word comes out. "I... I'm sorry," she manages, her emotional turmoil obvious in her tone.

"I-it's f-fine," I mutter. It isn't fine. It hasn't been fine. It seems she understands that.

Silence drags on. I smooth Espurr's fur, slowly, methodically massaging her to both help her sleep and -more importantly- calm me down. One seems to be working, the other is... a work in progress.

She takes a shaky step towards me, her hesitation obvious. "D-devon?" she tries. A tear steals down my cheek, quickly joined by a second. She sits on the edge of my bed, near Espurr's feet. Her hand gentle caresses my cheek, wiping my tears away.

"I... I'm so sorry, baby. I-I... I..." As halting as her words come, it's the jerkiness in her touch that shows me how emotional she is.

I peek up at her, looking her in the eye for a fraction of a second. I don't know why. I don't want to see her hurting. I don't want to see her crying.

And I certainly don't want to let her off the hook. She's the one screwing up. She's the one making John question which name to call me. Her being busy and frustrated doesn't excuse that!

And yet, from that peek, our eyes meet. I see her silently promising to do better. I see how grateful she is that I still help her through it all.

Or am I just imagining it? Am I projecting my desires onto her attempt at manipulating me?

8-8

Don't look, Devon. Don't look. Just don't. Don't do that to yourself.

01:59 AM

CRAP! I told you not to look!

The sound of Espurr crying doesn't lessen, nor does her grip on my pyjama shirt. She's upset, morally outraged, that she isn't being fed, that I'm not going at lightspeed to fix her formula. And...

sniff sniff

A dirty nappy on top of that.

With great dubiety, I get out of be-

Thud!

Well, I'm out of bed. And Espurr is crying even harder now, probably being freaked out that we just fell. I study her cry with half an ear... Nope. No fear or pain. Just surprise. Thank Arceus I'd gotten used to the different types of baby's cries with my siblings.

It takes considerable effort, but I get myself and Espurr off the floor, through the door and down the stairs. I really need to get a thermos in my room for night feedings.

With a practised ease, I set Espurr in the high chair and get to making her formula. It sucks for her, but this way I wake up somewhat so I can change her without screwing it up for both of us.

I put on the water boiler... thing... I grab the bottle and the little tub with pre-meassured formula... powder...

My head gets heavy, lolling to one side and shaking me awake! I shake myself, slapping my cheeks to wake me up before I fall asleep standing up. Deciding not to chance it, I fetch Espurr's things to change her.

I get back into the kitchen, still hearing poor Espurr crying and murmuring and muttering unhappily in her highchair, just in time for the water to finish boiling. I place Espurr's things on the counter, getting down to the most crucial part: measuring.

Thirty cc hot. Fifty cc cool. Flap open tub section... flip over, tap tap tap, shimmy last bit. Close tub thingy. Twist on nipple, grab, shake shake shake. Test on skin... not too hot, thankfully.

I walk with the bottle to Espurr and scoop her out of the highchair. She grabs the bottle, already sucking in the nipple and gorging on her meal. She's still squirming unhappily, so I know the nappy bothers her. Best to head upstairs to get her things then.

So with a squirming Espurr in hand, balancing her and the bottle she's still not very good at holding herself, I head up the stairs. With her refusal to stay still, and me being drunk on sleep - a precarious endeavour, to be sure.

And yet, when I get upstairs... "Where did I...?" Where are her things? I know I had them here! I always keep her things here on my desk, so I know where to find them!

Obviously it isn't here. Maybe I left them on the dining room table?

Back downstairs, into the dining room. On the table? No. On her highchair? No. Couch? No. Tv stand? No. Hmm...? Kit...chen... I left them on the counter, didn't I...

I head back into the kitchen, finding everything next to the water boiler. Right where I left them. To early to care. And judging by the annoyed grunts and noises, bottle's empty. Perfect timing.

I flop the little foldy thingy open, gently putting Espurr on it, and fumble in the dark to find the sticky thingies that keep her nappy closed.

FLASH!

"Nn!" I complain, wondering at the sudden brightness of the room, even as I furrow my brow and squint to see what the hell is going on. Espurr decides she doesn't like the goings-on, and bawls to announce her opinion. "Ohh, ooh, ohh, ooh. There there, Essie. Itzokay." I sooth. Even though my eyes are slapping my brain with too much light and information, it's her reaction that hurts.

"You'll never know if she's clean without light," mom chastises. I shrug, opening the nappy and start clawing away at the sludge stuck to Espurr's fur. Thankfully I remember to use the wipes... and I'm not butchering my baby. I don't think so, at least. Well, she's not crying in pain... so we're doing just fine.

With the last of the gook and goo cleaned out, I put on a fresh nappy and fold and flap everything into its right place. I carefully get the sticky thing stuck to the right place, and check to see everything is done right - wouldn't want my baby to be in pain because my brain is still asleep.

"You've gotten in a lot of practice with that," she says. I look at her, still squinting because I don't like the brightness I'm bathed in. Unsure what to make of her words, I shrug and carefully pick Espurr up and letting her bury her nose in the nape of my neck. I grab nappy, trying to make sure I don't make a mess - cleaning it up now will suck, but leaving it 'till morning would be worse.

Into the babyroom at then end of the hall, I dump the nappy and twist the thing to make sure the bag is twisted closed so we don't have to smell like we have babies in the house - the bad scents of it.

"A'right, Essie... bag to bed with you," I murmur, trudging back up the stairs. The light snores tell me I'm the one that needs to be put to bed - she's WAY ahead of me.

8-8

PING-PO~ONG! "Hyaaaa!"

I look towards the front door, wondering why mom ever had that stupid bell installed. Still, bills need to be paid, I guess. And t least there's two doorbells so we know 'normal guests' won't be using that junk. I mean that corny, retro 'hyaa'? It sounds like a guy is taking a crap while constipated.

Not missing a beat, mom heads into her office to get her Pokeballs. I focus on John and Julie as they watch that funny little collection of scribbles in the cartoon yammer on about something I don't think I'm capable of making sense of.

"I'mma wootin' fo' you, mommy!" John announces, pumping his fist up in the air. I turn, finding mom there, blowing him a kiss as she continues towards the door.

I hate being around the house during the day. Everyone that comes here is just another challenger. Soon the battlecries will fill the air, the sounds of fighting will drown out reality.

"Let's do this! Go, Roserade!" Well, this was fun. I get up, grab Espurr, and head out. I make sure to close the front door properly, so John won't get tempted to leave.

There's nothing to do in this town. No parks, nowhere to just hang out. Nowhere to go that won't cost me money I don't have. So I decide on my usual destination: the Daycare.

As usual, friendly faces offer their 'Howdy!', and get ignored. The more daring of them see me cross the road to avoid them. A few kids my age cry out 'scruffy' and make disparaging comments about the little cutie with me. Between the seeming dislike of Espurr, me actively avoiding them, and Espurr hiding behind my leg, almost no one is curious enough to approach us. Nothing new there.

I find myself suddenly overly aware of Espurr's reaction to everything. How she enjoys running up to certain flowers to sniff them, usually ending in her sneezing for one reason or another. I make a mental note to ask Jen about that - it could be an allergy! How she enjoys chasing her shadow, though I notice she keeps looking around to see where I am. I'm grateful she keeps track of where I am, so she won't be running off without me.

How she shies away from any and everyone. She only seems to like being around me. Not that I'm all that surprised, really. I mean, she's shy, and too young to have to deal with people she doesn't know.

We make it to the Daycare, so I scoop Espurr up, and climb up the fence. I carefully set her on the rail and hold her with one hand so she doesn't fall and hurt herself. With my other hand, I hold on so I don't fall.

And together, we just gaze at the Pokemon. "That's Gyarados," I say, pointing at the big meanie picking a fight again. "And that's Palpitoad."

"Es? Espurr!" she points at one of them, sitting in the corner by themself. I look, but I don't recognize that one at all. It's green, with patches of white. And these big, bright red eyes and what looks like a tutu.

"I'm not sure which one that is," I admit. "We can ask Jen when we see her though. Will you remind me?"

"Es purr!" she declares, nodding.

"Alright. Let's see, that one's a Geodude. Oh, that one's..."

8-8

"So which one is... that one?" I ask, pointing at a Piplup. Espurr thinks for a long moment, before she starts scratching her head with her paw. "That's Piplup."

"Es! Es purr!" she says, pointing excitedly. Her eyes light up from recognition as she bounces excitedly. She clearly remembers now, so I'm glad. Hmm, maybe if she knows more about each species, she's more likely to remember the name?

"That's right! Do you remember what type Piplups are?" I test her further. She shakes her head, questions in her eyes. "Water Type."

"Espurr Es?" she asks for confirmation.

"That's right. You're a Psychic Type, and Piplups are Water Type," I say, nodding sagely.

"Purr-es purr?" asks, tapping her chest to indicate herself. Her eyes seem to be filled with wonder, as she thinks about what that means for her.

"Yeah. You're a Psychic Type. You know what that means?" I ask. She shakes her head, no, furrowing her brow as she ponders it. "That means you're going to be super smart!" Her eyes widen in awe. "Sure, you have a lot of growing to do. But I know you're going to be so awesome! And you're going to be so gorgeous, too. And together... together we're going to be the best team. I know we will."

Tears well up, even as she turns to me to bury her face in the nape of my neck. I hold her close, a warmth swimming in my chest like never before. We're going to be so awesome, Ess. I know we will.

I know we will.

8-8

End Chapter 4

8-8

A/N: Progress is slow, but even baby steps should be taken.