Don't

Chapter Ten

By Harmony283

Summary: As Norman waits for news on Max (or rather, to get up enough 'courage' to go see him) he finds an interesting article in the newspaper. Shortly afterwards he gets an unexpected phone call from an unexpected someone, and to make matters worse, that someone is coming for a visit tomorrow. Who is it, and why is Norman so upset about it?

Authors Note: I'll admit this chapter was absolute hell to write. Especially when the stupid computer thinks it's fun to delete every other sentence periodically. –sighs- But yeah, sorry for the lateness, um, that's…all I can really say. But yes, I still have interest in this story. I'm just now working on some 'prequels' for it. (read the A/N at the end if you're interested in what those are).

Note: Well as I said, my computer had an absolute field day with this chapter (with the whole periodically deleting stuff). Maybe it's because this was the first thing I typed up when I got my laptop (it certainly isn't anymore, but it was way back when I started on it). Not only that, I had to go back and rewrite this twice because I didn't like the way some stuff turned out. But at least this version is marginally better than the others. And it has a slightly funny scene at the end.

Also sorry in advance if Norman sounds OOC…or at least…he sounds that way to me XP

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Norman's POV

When I saw that man, whatever his name was, carry my son out of the collapsed building I had to say I was a little more than just worried. Yes I was mad at Max—my own son—for not calling us or contacting us in over a year. But it was because he was my son I cared—he was hurt, and they wouldn't even let me see him.

And now I was sitting here in the front lobby thumbing through the newspaper in attempts to keep my mind off the fact that both my children were in the hospital now. One just for a check up, and the other…I didn't even know.

'Isn't doing much good though, is it?' My conscience asked, sounding almost bored.

I gritted my teeth and responded back, "It's more helpful than just sitting here' If I was just sitting here I would be going over the twenty worst case scenarios even though some couldn't even happen.

'But some of them can' My conscience had to oh-so-kindly point out.

'You aren't making this much better for me either.' I said, thankfully not outloud, before letting out a sigh and concentrating once more on the paper in front of me. I had already gone through the regional news, the city's news, as well as how Hoenn's economy was doing. And now I was on international news. The main thing, from many of the headlines in the paper and on the news, was the talk of another evil organization bent on world domination rising again. Its base, as usual, was in Orre. They didn't even try to deny this fact. After all, Orre never sent any of their news out of just their region, like the others did. Unless of course it was something major, or they had already taken care of the problem. But even then it was rare that we would ever hear any of it. It made me wonder, though, if Max was up to date on what was going on—he traveled through the region recently, he should know.

That's when my eyes fell on one particular article, titled "Shard Mountain Incident" then right underneath it in slightly smaller print "Possible proof that there is a new criminal uprising in Orre" It immediately caught my attention, why wouldn't it, I wouldn't know. But it did and I continued reading:

It's well known now, or at least highly suspected, that any and all crimes are in some way shape or form related to the supposedly new uprising of criminals that are far more deadly than any other we've seen so far. As with any crime, there are eye witness accounts of them, and one particular similarity sticks out. Men and woman of any age dressed all in black with a purple capital N plastered somewhere on their outfits. This repeated insignia proves even more evidence that this is indeed a gang, deadlier than Kanto's original Team Rocket, and Hoenn's elusive Team Magma and Aqua (all of which disbanded at one point or another).

And of course, the base of their organizations has to be in Orre. Or at least that's popular belief—belief that Orre itself isn't even attempting to deny. Not that it can bring about any proof stating that their base isn't in Orre, when, after all the proof lies in recently released information of an attack not just two months ago. This horrible incident, nicked-named the "Shard Mountain Incident" or SMI happened in Shard Town, a small mining town located along the mountainous route east of Mt. Battle.

The attack itself focused more on Shard Mountain, or at least one particular cave leading into Shard Mountain. This particular cave was one many of the villagers worked in, extracting precious shards that are used in the making of various highly expensive and very rare jewelry among other things. This same cave was bombed from the inside. Previously this cave never drew the interest to criminal organizations like Team Snagem or the widely known Cipher. So why did they decide to strike in the first place?

Upon closer research on the town it's revealed that Wes and Rui—the duo that brought down the first Cipher—made their home there, and were living peacefully with their eight year old daughter Anca and their then-unborn son Seth. The thing is, from what the locals said, that they hadn't been the target "for years", even after the reformation of Cipher. So why would they be the targets now, in this attack? That's where another interesting bit of information comes in.

It's also confirmed, though hesitantly, that during the attack on Shard Mountain Wes and Rui had two visitors. Not much is known about these visitors, or at least the villagers wouldn't say. Only one trainer visiting at the time told us a little more. One was said to have "an extremely powerful Psychic type—I think a Gardevoir" the trainer stated while the other had "a huge black Skarmory."

These two trainers appeared to have had a significant role on the eventual running-out of the villains that staged the attack. How just these two alone managed it is something to truly think about, but regardless this was an outstanding victory for them. Not a single life was lost on either side, but that—due to an ill-placed bomb, the one believed to have caused the explosion—the Admin in charge was severely injured, though their name wasn't given.

It surprises me to think that this would be the first grand news that Orre gives to us, but then we should be lucky they even let it out, since to them secrecy is the social norm when it comes to major events such as this. But regardless of that, this information is no less startling. It in fact slaps an all ready staggering truth in our faces. If this isn't proof that something's going on in the world, the quite honestly I don't know what is.

-Meagan Edwards

I slowly placed the paper down in the vacant seat next to me, taking in all the information I had just read. Did Max know about this incident? Was he there when it happened? And…what if that Gardevoir was—no, it couldn't be his. He was strong but, no, he couldn't be that strong.

'But you never know.' My conscience pointed out, 'There's nothing there saying it can't be his.'

I shook my head, 'It can't be his! It just can't—there are other people out there with a Gardevoir.'

'Well you certainly don't have any confidence in him, do you? You're horrible.'

I chose to ignore that comment, and really I couldn't answer it even if I wanted to, because just at that moment my cell phone started ringing. I hastily pulled it out, not even checking the number first, before pressing the 'talk' button and pressing it to my ear. This would be a welcome against wondering what was going on with my son.

"Hello, Norman speaking." I said formally, waiting for the other person on the end of the line to reply. To say anything that made me know they heard me. Eventually they did. But it wasn't what I was expecting, not in the least.

"Well I would assume it would be you I was speaking to, after all I did call your cellphone for a reason." My hand tightened almost immediately at the cocky comment—I couldn't miss it—the tone, and the sudden tenseness I felt in my body.

"Mother?" I knew it was probably strange, I hadn't heard my voice sound this—this weak since…since the last time I spoke with her, "Why…? Why are you calling me?"

"Wel I would've liked to call you on your home phone, but obviously no one's home. I'd ask why but I suppose I'll have to figure it out when I get there." She sounded both reprimanding, and…almost bored. But what caught me more off guard was what she actually said.

"When you get here?"

"I'm coming for a visit." It sounded like she was trying to remind of something, even though I was certain I had never—not once—had anyone remotely close to her call me and tell me, "I'm in Hoenn anyway, so I wanted to drop by." Suddenly she grew quiet and for a laughable moment I thought she had hung up on me. But then, softly, she added on, "I haven't seen you in a while. I've been…meaning…to contact you. Just—I was here and…"

"where is here?" I found myself interrupting her, "How close are you?"

For a moment she didn't answer—and again I thought she had hung up—but then she did and she sounded irritated, "I'm close enough so that I can be there by tomorrow, or maybe even the next day. But really, dear, have you ever learned to talk on the phone nicely?"

I let out a sigh, "yes mother, I know how to. But I…right now isn't exactly the best time."

"For me to call? I can understand if you're about to go up against a trainer…" she trailed off, "But that isn't it, is it?" It surprised me that she even asked. She never asked why I was irritated before. No. she usually hung up.

"I'd say right now isn't a good time for that—or for you to be visiting. So no I'm not about to go up against a trainer. I…" I closed my eyes briefly, "I haven't gone up against a challenger in a while. I probably should. But that's not the point."

"Then what is? You sound like you haven't gotten any sleep."

"Not much," I couldn't deny answering that, since it had been hard getting to sleep these past few nights, "But I—right now isn't a good time because…I'm at the hospital." I knew she wouldn't like having to ask me why again, so I continued on, "Yes, I'm fine. I wouldn't be talking to you if I wasn't. And Caroline is fine as well."

"Then May…?" Mother questioned, "I heard Max was traveling now—"

"No, he's home for the moment." I didn't really know how she knew that. After all she hadn't contacted us since he was only a year old, "Yes May is here, but she isn't serious. Max…I'm not sure if he's awake yet."

"What happened?" My hand tightened even more around the phone at the obvious concern in her voice. She always cared about Max—more than she cared about me, and definitely more than she cared about Caroline and May. It irritated me more than it probably should have.

"May is," I hesitated, "just here for a checkup." If mother really was coming for a visit, then she would find out soon enough about May—'If she doesn't already know' my conscious sneered before I roughly pushed it aside—"And Max is…I'm not sure, but like I said, he hasn't woken up yet. They believe he got…shocked. Not severely but, enough to knock him unconscious."

This time I really thought she had hung up. But again she surprised me by saying, in a slightly more distant voice, "I…see. May…is pregnant isn't…she? And Max…? I-I don't…I'll try to be there by tomorrow. I'll stay at a hotel if I need to."

"Mother, I just said—"

"Even you can't keep me from seeing my grandson," I tensed even more at her obvious exclusion of May, "I'll be there. Goodbye." Then I heard the familiar sound of someone hanging up, followed by the familiar hum that was always there before you dialed.

Almost immediately as I hung up Drew walked up to me. The look on his face told me that he had probably heard all of our conversation, and that he was annoyed about something. When he noticed that I was paying attention to him—'He's probably wondering why you were on the damn phone instead of with your son' my conscience oh-so-charmingly butted in—he spoke, "Max is up now. He can't talk—but you should see him."

I didn't like the fact that he almost ordered me to do that, but I let it slide, "I see…I'll…go then."

Drew just shrugged his shoulders, "Just don't get angry at him. Like I just said—he can't talk enough to do defend himself." That…really irritated me.

"Who said anything about getting angry with him? I just wanted to ask him a few things."

Almost immediately the green haired boyfriend-of-May's backed away, heading back towards where Caroline had taken May earlier. But before he got too far I saw him shoot a knowing glance over his shoulder at me. Like he didn't trust my 'just asking questions' motive.

'It's just a few questions—I have the right to ask my son questions, don't I?' I wondered silently, shoving my phone into my pocket, 'I won't get mad at him.'

'Oh no, you absolutely shouldn't.' My 'conscience' mocked lazily, 'But I wonder if what he said won't just come true anyway. After all—the questions you're going to ask might not exactly be the best.'

'My son is in the hospital, I'll just ask him what's suitable for now.' I mutely argued back as I walked down the lynolium tiled hallway, towards the room I knew Max was staying in.

'What's this? You actually care now? Humor me. Please.' I clenched my fist in effort to ignore the dead-pan sarcasm dripping through his—it's—voice, 'Oh, and that guy—you need to thank the guy that actually pulled him out of the rubble he was buried under. Wonder where he is.' The sarcasm only increased with my conscience's last statement and again I had to wonder—was I really okay?

Not that I could worry about my health when I was about to push open the door that led into my son's—who had just been admitted into the hospital because of an electrocution that could've possibly killed him—room.

But the oddest thing was—I heard laughter. My son was laughing, generally laughing—at something, with someone—and in the condition he was in. My hand reached out and gripped the handle firmly before I slowly—probably a little more slowly than I would've liked—opened the door.

All too suddenly the laughter died. I could see Max, sitting up in bed, his brown eyes widening slightly as the laughter in them faded. The blond doctor was standing almost a few feet away from me with an equally surprised look on his face. And the fact that he kept tugging on his jacket concerned me.

But I realized I'd have to be the first one to speak up, so I turned to Max and said, "Ah, Max you're…up." I wanted to sound relieved, and maybe I pulled it off—halfheartedly, but it was close enough. I eyed the doctor one last time, as he roughly jerked his coat for the third time, before he stiffly nodded his head and slipped out the door to do whatever it is he was supposed to be doing.

Once I heard the door shut behind I took a step forward. This, for whatever reason, triggered Max to speak, "Dad?" But it sounded like he shouldn't have even opened his mouth. It sounded so—so cracked, that it was almost painful. Regardless I walked the remainder of the space between us and sat down on the chair in front of the bed.

Once seated I tried my best to sound sincere, "I'm glad to see you're awake. Drew said you weren't talking, though. But that's good too." Again I had no idea if I had pulled it off, but it sounded nearly fake, and it made me sick. But I continued on anyway, "Wouldn't it be nice to have everything just go and fix itself easily?"

For a moment he was silent, as if he was trying to contemplate the words and if they had a double meaning to them. Then, slowly, he spoke, "Nothing's…like that." He sounded hesitant at best, like he was afraid he'd insult me.

'Well you did act pretty upset with him earlier. Or did you just so happen to forget?' I pushed, and shoved, and finally locked whatever portion of my brain had that little voice running rampant in it. I didn't need those comments now. I had too much to think about without putting in common sense.

That's what it was. The revelation hit me, but all I did was mutter out, "I know that." And drop my head into my hands, "I know that. But it would be nice." And it really would be nice.

"It…would." The fact that even he agreed with me made the revelation hurt even more.

'He probably has more common sense than I do.' That thought wasn't pleasing so I shoved it away as well, and instead I concentrated hard on my next words, "But it won't happen." I felt my shoulders tense at this, "It won't happen and it won't happen and it won't." I lifted my head from my hands then, and looked my son straight in the eye, "Do you understand?"

'Because I don't even know where I'm getting at.' But I shoved that thought away as well. Instead I focused on his expression. And it surprised me. There was hurt there, and mild confusion. Like he was trying to think something over, but either his thoughts—or just me being here—were preventing him from getting as far as he wanted. But if there was one thing I did know, it was that he didn't get it. He was still only fifteen. So I answered my own question for him, "No of course you don't. Never mind, forget I said that." I averted my gaze from his own, instead studying the room. But I couldn't help feeling his eyes on me. He was still confused—unsure.

'And there's so much more I want to ask him.' But I had no idea where to start. What would be 'too much', and what would be 'too little' for what I wanted to learn.

"Dad?" I turned my head fully to face Max, who seemed to be contemplating something, before slowly he asked, "Who was on the phone?"

It didn't surprise me that he knew that, but I denied it anyway, "I wasn't—"

"J—the doctor told me. Drew did too. Who…?" Again that didn't surprise me. After all, they both had seen me earlier—they both had tried to get me to come see Max earlier—it was no wonder they had to give an excuse.

'But how am I supposed to answer that?' I questioned silently. Really, I didn't want to. But he would find out eventually—'tomorrow', the word floated through my mind—and then he would ask me why I hadn't told him. So I answered as truthfully as I could, "Naomi." I knew he didn't know her name—he would only know her as his 'grandma'—but it was better that way. Less intimate. But I clarified anyway, "your grandmother. The one you haven't seen in fifteen years."

His eyes widened fractionally at that, and for a moment he didn't say—he didn't say anything. Then, unsurprisingly, he asked, "My…grandmother? Your mom?" I nodded my head, "Why…?"

"She's coming to visit. Tomorrow." This seemed to unnerve him just as much as it unnerved me. Silently, I was glad about that, "I don't know where she'll be staying but…"

"If you want her to stay with you an' mom—a-at the house," he flinched and dropped his voice back down to a whisper, "don't worry. I'm…I'm probably going t-to stay at the Center. Drew can…use my room. And she can have the g-guest room."

I didn't want to say that I wanted mother to stay with us, but it was the hospitable thing to do, so I agreed, "Yes. But she'll probably want to see you immediately."

He was going to ask why. I could see the same slightly confused expression on his face that he had only a few minutes ago. But the look was clouded and hazy, as if was slowly falling back into 'dreamland' but with his eyes open. I could also tell he was stifling a yawn.

And for whatever reason I found myself continuing my previous thought, "You should get as much sleep as possible now." I knew the 'why' question was on his mind again, so I answered before it could be voiced, "After all, you are her…favorite."

Vivi's POV (about an hour after Max talks with Harley)

"Stop pacing," I hissed out for the third time, "Unless you think it'd be an oh-so-grand idea to wear a hole in the floor."

"I won't wear a hole in the floor." Michael shot back, quickening his pacing just to annoy me, "Besides, how the hell can you just sit there. What the hell are you doing anyway? Meditating while listening to some 'I love you' song?"

My eyes narrowed and I turned away, "for your information I'm 'silently' memorizing the words to this song. I just got permission to redo it because the original artist passed away recently."

He slowed his pacing for a moment, curiosity clear on his face as he asked, "Which singer is it?"

"Myla," I answered, "She died young, the way all the others seem to."

"Except you."

"Because I have an oh-so-wonderful bodyguard to look after me."

"Aww shucks, you think I'm doin' that great of a job?" He asked, feigning meekness.

"Who said anything about you?" I shot back, trying hard to keep a smile off my lips, "I meant Sven and Shaq. Every singer needs a pair of buff bodyguards to keep the fans at bay."

"Eh?!" I would've laughed at the expression on his face if I hadn't been trying to keep this 'serious', "Do I need to remind you who was the one who got you out when the paparazzi stormed a club lookin' for you?"

"No you don't need to remind me," I murmured, looking down at my CD player before pausing the song and jerking off my headphones, "you did a fantastic job." He blinked for a second, confused, "I was kidding, Mikey."

"Don't call me Mikey!"

"Oh but why not?"

"Because it's annoying!"

"But Michael is way too long!"

"No it isn't!"

"Yes it is."

"No it—"

The sound of an aluminum can being crumpled into almost a disk cut off whatever Michael was about to say, and even caused my own response to die on my lips. We both turned slowly as Harley walked into the room and tossed the deformed can into the nearest trash can. Then he turned and walked back to the door he had come out of. But before he walked all the way through he stopped and looked over his shoulder at me, "You know, normally I would let you do the whole playful 'I'm not flirting with you' banter thing, but," he waved his hand dismissively, "not today sweeties. Take it outside. This is my hotel room in case you forgot."

And from the look on his face I didn't have the heart to disagree with him.

"He just came back from the hospital didn't he?" Michael asked, plopping down next to me, "Was it that bad?"

"I didn't see him either, remember?" I reminded him while trying my best to ignore the arm that had wrapped itself loosely around my waist.

"But you can guess at these sort of things better than I can. Why's Harley so uptight an' anal? He only gets like this when—"

"He's just worried." I gave up and leaned slightly against Michael's chest, making him stiffen slightly only to relax a few seconds later, "It is about Max after all."

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Wow, I actually made it to chapter ten. That makes me happy, in a way. It also means this is about 5 chapters longer than the original. As I said in the A/N in the beginning, I'm focusing on some prequels to this fanfic (for the sake of explanation, since some will only be touched on in later chapters). So far I only have one 'prequel' up, and it's called 'Decision', it's the very first in terms of prequels (taking place when Harley is still in the Johto region with May and Drew). The next one (that I'm also working on now) is going to be called Turmoil. So be on the lookout for that one as well (though I don't know when it'll be finished, since I'm back in school now).

As always, Reviews make me incredibly happy, and they can be a huge inspiration booster when/if I don't have any motivation to write. So yeah, have questions, Comments, Loved it, have CC—send it all in a review please!

-Till the next (and hopefully not as late) chapter

-Harmony283