As soon as the evil gang left the house, Drake burst into tears. He couldn't control himself, not when he thought of the bitter, bitter discoveries he'd made and the cruel injustice of it all. His emotions flowed freely: tears of sadness, tears of anger and tears of anguish mixed to produce a slobbering creature he had seen and heard many times but had never imagined to be in command of. It took all his self-control just to breathe.
A tentative voice had spoken softly, but Drake barely paid attention to it, much less understood its message. All he cared about was… nothing. He wanted to wake to his favourite tunes and the aroma of hot chocolate. No, he much preferred to sink into the Earth and never return. Suddenly and recklessly convinced that this was possible, his grief-stricken self pressed his cheek onto the ground and tried to push himself downwards. Nothing gave way.
"Drake, please." The speaker had raised her voice just a little though it still retained its calm, caring quality. "I need some help here." (At least, that's what it sounded like.)
Wanting absolutely nothing to do with the world anymore, there was little reason why Drake should have turned his head at that moment. And yet… he did. Perhaps it just happened by chance as he was stretching his neck. Perhaps rhyme and reason decided to take a break from their busy schedules and confine everyone to an illogical dystopia. Perhaps under those precise conditions of space and time, Amber's voice had hypnotised him to do its bidding.
Or perhaps, at that moment, Drake felt a glimmer of hope sparkle within him, a single jewel floating up towards the surface of the water in the boundless black ocean of despair.
"Heatran!" All self-centred thoughts instantly banished from his mind, Drake rushed over to his fallen friend. When his arms were carelessly thrown around the large Pokémon and the sticky healing balm covering it, his only regrets were that they weren't longer, and that he hadn't come earlier. He felt heartily, lovingly warm – outside and inside and all around.
There followed a short period of silence, broken by Heatran's soft groan.
"I'm… okay…" wheezed Heatran with much effort. "If you'll… just… let… me…"
But Drake wouldn't let go. Not after what had happened. Not after a million years. "You f-fool," he whispered, both his body and tone trembling violently. "Now you know h-how it f-feels to care t-too much for someone who d-doesn't deserve it." Before Heatran could say anything, however, Drake continued. "But no matter. Just r-rest now. Amber and I will m-make sure you're fine." Admittedly, how exactly he was going to go about doing this was unclear to him, but at that point, all he cared about was playing the role of a confident, direction-oriented person who always knew what to do; all he cared about was soothing Heatran's worries as tenderly as one presses a piece of cold cloth onto a feverish forehead. He might as well have been making an empty promise, however; so disoriented was he that even a hiker on the brink of despair was in a better position, and so exhausted was he that even a simple math problem would be like running the mile in a minute.
He could have used some reassurance himself – a large dose of it. With second, third and fourth helpings afterwards.
Drake groaned as an awful headache set in as soon as he became conscious enough to feel pain. Come to think of it, every muscle in his body ached. Apparently he'd fallen asleep, somehow, and was now lying in an awkward position on some couch. The confusion in his head was only amplified by a loud discussion nearby, though a single concern pushed itself to the front of his mind. Oh no! Where's Heatran? He started, sitting bolt upright and looking about him in a panicked frenzy.
He felt the sources of the talking turn their attention towards him. Among them was Amber, rushing to him in a frantic blur. "Drake!" she exclaimed, her voice strangely dripping with regret. "I'm so sorry. I had to get my Bellossom to make you sleep, since I was afraid you would… harm yourself. I'm very sorry. Please understand." Amber explained in a rush, her honest eyes saying it all. "And before you ask, Heatran is fine. My parents brought Heatran to the Pokémon Centre – where we are now – as soon as they returned. Its burns are quite serious, but at the same time it's making a speedy recovery."
Drake sat up, rubbing his eyes as the last winks of sleep vanished in his eyes. He paused once more as he considered Amber's words, and finally spoke. "I would be angry with you for making me worried," his voice quiet and dangerous like a blade, before it softened considerably as it sunk into him just how much Amber had gone through. "But thanks for taking care of Heatran."
"Oh, it's nothing," Amber waved it off as if she had more important things to talk about. Which, as it turned out, she did. "We have to discuss some urgent matters. Namely, how to deal with the project now that Byron is gone. Don't get me wrong now. I know the issue of Team Trouble – as Heatran told me just a while ago – is much greater. But like my mother always said, deal with the one that comes first. And the project is due tomorrow." She turned towards two adults coming her way. Her parents, Drake realised. They exchanged polite greetings before the conversation became serious once again.
"The police have been informed, though the case has been kept secret," reported Amber's mother gravely. "We requested that of them because I think we can all agree that Heatran, in his current state, should receive only rest and not publicity at every second of the day." Drake nodded in relief, having had the same sentiments all along. Seeing this, Amber's father continued. "However, the downside of this is that your teacher will not be able to receive an excuse note, simply because there isn't any reason why you shouldn't have done the project, unless we were fabricating one, which is possible but difficult. The fact that Byron is out of school – I'm sure he has fled out of the city in the hands of Team Trouble already – is hardly something to pin the blame on."
Drake thought hard. It was a dilemma for sure, but he could feel an idea forming in the back of his head.
"We'll definitely help you, of course," continued Amber's father, breaking the silence. "We can put together a great video. Or if you're still thinking about scrapping the project completely, I'll think of something to write in that excuse note. After all, you guys are hardly to blame for what happened."
It was a long shot. But then again, it had been a long shot when he'd approached Heatran all those days back; he'd had a slim chance of surviving and yet he'd gotten out of it alive. It had been a long shot when he'd accepted Heatran as the only Pokémon to accompany him in more than a year; he'd faced his fears of doing a bad job and a fiery friendship had blossomed between them. And now here stood another challenge. He was Drake, wasn't he? He was Heatran's owner, wasn't he? He could do this. It was just another risk – just another game of chance in the Russian Roulette of life. But with an element of surprise, the odds would be in his favour even if his life was in danger. He nodded. He could do this. He would do this. First, though, he had to clarify something.
"The Magma Stone… it allows anyone possessing it to control Heatran, doesn't it? Unless Heatran has already gained ownership?" Amber's parents nodded.
Drake looked at them, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Then I have a plan."
