Chapter Nine: Present

I opened my mouth, determined to scream, but all that came out was a long breath of air that I knew I should conserve. Yet as the realization of what had just occurred weighed in on me, my breathing quickened, coming out in short, powerful huffs. This is it, I thought, rubbing my hands against my arms. I'm done for.

I tried again, clapping my hands and opening my mouth and praying that some noise would come out. In this moment of need, it would be perfect and convenient for my voice to magically break through. I would go through therapy for the rest of my life, never walk out again, if my voice worked just this once.

My throat dried up after a minute or so of just blowing hot air. Nothing. Not even now, when I needed it most, would my voice come. This was what I got, I supposed, for being so adamant about my muteness not being a hindrance. It never had been up until this point, of course. Or if it had, I had moved past it.

I couldn't scream for help—not that anyone would ever come—and I had no Pokémon to help me escape. And now, not only could I not speak, but I could no longer see in the pitch black of the fallen cave. Even my body was a handicap now, my knee screaming even louder than I could hope. Silence, darkness, and pain. This was all I knew now.

The wild Pokémon of the cave had long since fled, their instincts protecting them from the danger that had awaited them here. My Espeon knew… that was why it had been so crazy up on top of the mountain. It wasn't Red, and it certainly wasn't the weather—Espeon had seen this coming the entire time. I had been too dumb, too set on my course to notice. And now I was paying the price for my stubbornness.

"Help," I mouthed, tears beginning to drip down my cheeks. It should have been too cold for any tears to fall at all, and they stung against my skin. This only made me cry harder.

The betrayal I felt didn't particularly help, either. Red had been a farce, something I had forced on myself because the idea of him seemed so sweet—a boy just a few years my senior who couldn't talk either, who might understood what I went through, who was my perfect doppelganger. I should have known from the start that this was too good to be true.

I couldn't blame him, of course, even for leaving me here. It had all been my fault. He couldn't control the fact that he had a voice, as most people did, and he certainly couldn't control the world beneath him. And I had a feeling he was trying to teach me a lesson by leaving me here. I would do what he did, train and become stronger if I was even strong enough to begin the challenge—except that I wasn't. I fled, too.

No, I could never blame him, and I shouldn't hate him. Especially now, there was no way I could hate him or anyone.

I needed a way out.

I had no choice, although it seemed like this had been the case a lot for me. I grabbed a Poké Ball, releasing my exhausted Typhlosion. It growled, rubbing its head against my arm. It couldn't see me. I couldn't give any commands, and there was no way it would be able to get a flame going in its condition.

Poor thing. I had been so cruel, and it was a miracle that it even forgave me for acting that way. In my rage while battling Red, I had disregarded the safety of my Pokémon, and karma had come full circle again. My only consolation came as Typhlosion licked my face right along the salty trail of my tears. It growled long and low, and I patted its head.

I dropped my right hand from my chin into my left hand. It couldn't see me, but I hoped it felt something. I returned Typhlosion to its Poké Ball, holding its little home in my hand for several minutes before placing it back in my bag again. Typhlosion had always been so loyal to me, even as a Cyndaquil, and I had never quite returned the favor.

The time ticked on, although how quickly or slowly, I couldn't quite tell. I stopped crying eventually, tried to stand up and failed, and leaned back against the floor. I knew what that meant: falling back, refusing to stand up after a single try, drying my tears. I had given up. It was no use trying when no one would come for me, anyway.

I had nothing left to do but think about my mistakes.

In retrospect, commanding Piloswine to use Earthquake on the summit of a mountain probably hadn't helped this situation. But that was my problem, wasn't it? I never thought things through, and it always came back to bite me in the ass. I came here with a one-track mind, never thinking that Red could ever have a voice. It was ridiculous.

Not to mention the way I handled that battle. I had been horrible to Sunflora. My anger got the best of me, and that wasn't the mark of a Champion; it was the mark of a coward. All along, this entire situation just proved I was one big coward, a Champion who could never live up to the expectations the world placed on me.

I once thought that being mute was no handicap. I thought I could do everything a normal person could do, and I tried as hard as I could to do just that: everything. I went on my journey, broke my family's rules, acted rebellious, went a little crazy, got my shit together long enough to defeat Team Rocket and the Champion, and eventually fell down the same old path as before.

And I thought I was a hero.

I had been a fool. There was nothing heroic about my pompous attitude or my cruelty to my friends and Pokémon. Sure, maybe I had done the things I wanted to do and been a normal teenager, but it had never been my muteness that made me handicapped. In the end, I had not learned a single lesson, even when they were written out for me.

And Ethan had been right all along—about everything. I should have told someone, I should have told the truth, made this a day trip… gone with him. I had been so determined to see Red that I ignored everything he said, and I had been so utterly wrong. Everything that Ethan had told me had gone right over my head.

And it wasn't just that stuff, either. It was more than that. Ethan had been there all along, even when I never asked for him to be there. Silver, sure, had shown up all along and become my friend. Kurt and Lance had been kind to me, called me a hero, set me up on a pedestal, and I loved every part of that. They had made me feel special.

But Ethan had been kind to me, called me a hero, set me up on his own special pedestal just for me, and made me feel more than special—he made me feel worthy. I took that for granted every single day of my life, and I knew it. When he learned sign language for him, I hated him for invading my life; he needed to invade it. When he waited for me after therapy sessions, I cursed at him; he was being kind, as always. And when he told me to stay behind, tried to stop me from leaving, I brushed him aside; all he had ever done was love me.

Love me.

The tears that I had thought had dried up began again, and I buried my face in my hands. What an idiot I was! How foolish and stupid and so blind could one girl be? I was mute, not blind, but my handicap was my mind. I was so set on proving myself that I forgot about everyone else important to me, including my best friend.

Oh, Ethan.

My time would end here soon, and I would never get to say the word he knew so well now. I could never curl my hand and circle it against my chest again, never speak in the language only we understood—because it was more than just sign language between us. It was speech, movement, dance, music, everything. He got it.

So, my hand shaking, I repeated the word over and over and over again, tears burning against my skin as they dripped from my chin. Maybe he would hear my voice someday.

Or maybe not. He probably gave up, too.

It really was too bad that this was the way I would have to go, never saying goodbye to anyone, never knowing if they even came looking for me. I would vanish, just like Red, and they would assume I was gone. They would be concerned, but they would leave me well enough alone. Unlike Red, though, I wasn't coming back.

It was after lying on the ground for what seemed like days, and perhaps it had been, that I heard something. It took too much effort to sit up, and my reflexes were barely working. I knew I should move, save myself while I was still alive, but I would die sooner or later. If this cave collapsed again, it was only speeding up the process.

But then I saw light. It was blinding, and I closed my eyes to avoid it. After a moment, however, I realized what this meant, and I opened my eyes again. Light. And it wasn't any old light, not manmade, not entirely natural, but entirely familiar. A Pokémon was coming, strong enough to light this cave and show the way.

Then I heard something so beautiful that I managed to crawl forward a little bit at the sound of it: my name.

"Lyra!" the voice shouted, and I covered my mouth with my hands. He was here for me. "Lyra, are you in here? Lyra!"

It was a little bit of shock and a little bit of joy that kept me from moving. But after a moment, I knew I needed to make myself known to him. I clapped my hands together, and the noise echoed through the cave. The voice called louder and louder for me, until the light of the Pokémon was so close that I could see my clapping hands.

And then I could see him.

He appeared to lose control of himself, dropping to the ground and sitting there just staring at me. I didn't make any movement towards him—not that I could given the state of my knee—but I signed my favorite word over and over again just like I had earlier. When he finally nodded, his eyes never once leaving mine, I signed his name.

Ethan crawled towards me, his Pokémon close at his heels and providing enough light for it to seem like we were in broad daylight. He sat up on his knees right in front of me, and I sat with one leg twisted into me and my damaged leg straight out. If Red was my doppelganger, Ethan was my antithesis. I had never noticed more than now.

He raised his arms, pulling me into him, and everything fell apart again. I sobbed into his chest, everything coming out at once: this failure, this disaster, my apology, all rolled into one mess. I shook against his body, and he held me tight, a hand moving up and down along my spine. And just like that, we were done.

"Never," he whispered, "leave me again."

I held my hand up to agree, but he linked his fingers with mine before I could sign anything. He pushed himself away from me and pulled me to my feet, cautious as always of my well-being.

Just like always, he knew exactly what I was going to say before I said it.


Author's Note: Creative liberties—fainted Pokémon should not be allowed to use HM moves, LOL.

How did he find her? Find out in the next "present" chapter!