The Ash Connection

by I am Lu

A string of violent attacks at the hands of a mysterious Pokémon has caught Lance and the G-Men off-guard. Little about the motive is clear, other than Ash Ketchum is somehow a factor. His friends and rivals now must confront an important question: Is he really the fabled Chosen One? Set during BW. Multiple pairings, including Pokeshipping, Contestshipping, and Ikarishipping.

14. XII: In Which Paul Stands Up For Ash

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Chapter XII: In Which Paul Stands Up For Ash

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January 4th, 2002. Early Morning. Unmarked territory.

I know you're there... I can still feel you. Listen to me!

Ash shifted in his sleep, and his eyes cracked open. His mouth was dry, and his thoughts felt fuzzy and disjointed.

'What was that voice...?' he puzzled, barely awake. He glanced down at Pikachu, who was snuggled into his chest for warmth, and Ash wondered if he had been dreaming again. If so, then he knew he ought to tell Leaf and Gary.

What would he say, though? It wasn't even that remembrance had slipped away from him, as it had previous times. The memory simply did not exist now.

Misty was sleeping near him in a separate sleeping bag. Ash lolled his head to the side for a moment, watching her. She was totally at peace, and seeing her in such an ambient state drudged up that weird feeling he'd had on New Year's. Unsure of what to make of the oddity, he quickly looked away.

Seeing that all his companions were still asleep and that the sky was still a cold blue from lack of sunlight, he drifted off once again, forgetting that he'd ever woken up in the first place.

January 4th, 2002. Early Morning. Indigo Plateau.

Cynthia smoothed over the wrinkle in her black dress, noticing for the first time that it looked as though she had actually put on a little bit of weight. It wasn't to the point where anyone would suspect she was pregnant, but it certainly wasn't flattering either. She considered going through the closet again to see if there were any dresses that would conceal her abdomen a little better, but before she could, she heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," Cynthia said politely. She watched Lance slip in from the reflection in the mirror.

"Where's Steven?" the Indigo Champion asked, shutting the door behind him. Cynthia turned to face him.

"He left with Alder earlier to pick up Cilan's brothers at the airport," she explained. "They've never been to Kanto before. They're just boys, and neither of their parents are around, so..."

"I see," Lance nodded. "Well, Adalet is here to take you and Wallace down to the Pewter City area and the Battle Pyramid. You two should leave soon."

"What about you?"

"I'm not going," Lance stated plainly. "I need to stay here and continue working on the case. I just can't wrap my mind around how they could have afforded to abandon that lab beneath the Viridian City Gym."

"They're a gigantic crime organization. I'm sure they had a lot of illicit cash flow."

"Undoubtedly," Lance agreed, "but the numbers don't add up. Four years ago, the G-Men knew Team Rocket was in financial trouble. There's no way they would have thrown away those millions of dollars in Viridian and then have been able to build another base in Hoenn."

"My apologies," Cynthia began, folding her arms, "but shouldn't we be focused on figuring out where that Hoenn base is and shutting it down instead of trying to be Team Rocket's accountant?"

"That is our focus," Lance retorted. "You must understand my reasoning, though: That money had to come from somewhere. An investor, a company... We find that, then we find information."

"Cynthia?" Wallace peered inside the bedroom to interrupt the conversation. "Agent Adalet is waiting for us."

"I'll be there with you in a moment, Wallace," the Sinnoh Champion replied, looking past Lance and smiling at the Water Master. Wallace nodded and disappeared. Cynthia returned her attention to Lance.

"Well, hopefully we'll find something new soon," she said. "We're in trouble otherwise."

Lance's lips tightened, and Cynthia adjusted her heels before brushing past him.

"Send my condolences to Brandon," Lance spoke up as she walked by.

Cynthia stopped in her tracks.

"I will."

January 4th, 2002. Morning. Unmarked Territory.

Drew winced instinctively when Cilan made the first clip with the tiny scissors, and the sudden motion caused the connoisseur to jump in surprise. The Unovan then let out a relieved sigh when he realized nothing ill had befallen them, and he set the scissors down on the white handkerchief he had had laid out on the stump where he and the coordinator were set up.

"Try not to flinch when I'm using the scissors," Cilan advised calmly as he picked up the tweezers. "I'd hate to accidentally cut you and reopen the wound." He then used the tweezers to pull the first of the eleven stitches from Drew's temple. It didn't hurt, but Drew found the sensation of the suture moving underneath his skin odd. He hadn't been fully conscious when the Petalburg doctor initially closed the wound, so it felt like an entirely new experience.

Cilan moved on to the second stitch, and Drew was sure not to move this time. May and Iris were sitting nearby, making light conversation while also watching the near-surgical procedure with the hope nothing would go terribly wrong since they were barred from visiting a hospital. During the event, Paul wandered by and stopped to ask what they were doing.

"Having my stitches removed," Drew replied shortly as Cilan hit the midway point.

"It's been two weeks since Drew first got them," May added, "so it needed to be done."

Paul raised his eyebrows.

"Right... Well, what makes you qualified to remove stitches, connoisseur?"

Cilan smiled politely at the trainer before replying, "Oh, I really don't have any qualifications. But, my brother Chili once had stitches, and since he hates the doctor, Cress and I had to look up on the Internet how to remove them ourselves. Believe me, I'm taking every precaution to make sure Drew's wound doesn't reopen and get infected."

He removed the last stitch as he said this and dabbed a clean cotton ball with a couple of drops of rubbing alcohol. He then pressed the ball against the healing cut, and Drew let out a loud hiss at the sudden burning pain.

"Mother-"

"-Hey!" Barry nearly tripped over his own feet as he ran toward the group of five. Cradled in his arms was Leaf's laptop, along with the various extensions that kept their connection to the Internet running and their IP address hidden. "Check this out! I just found out that today is supposed to be our official memorial, and they're actually gonna broadcast it live on TV!"

"Ohhh no." Drew shook his head as Cilan removed the cotton ball, now pink with blood, and disposed of it. "Don't you remember the last time we listened to news about our own deaths? We are not having a repeat of Zoey."

"Yeah," Iris agreed. "We really shouldn't look into those kind of things."

Barry scowled at them both.

"I wasn't suggesting we watch it or anything," he scoffed. "I just thought ya'll might be curious since it's being held at the Battle Pyramid."

"The what?" Paul's eyes widened.

"The Battle Pyramid is the final location of the Kanto Battle Frontier and is headed by Brandon Blair, the Pyramid King. Defeating him earns you the Brave Symbol and a position as a-" Drew began before he was cut off.

"I know what the Battle Pyramid is, Frankenstein, thank you." Paul glared at the coordinator.

"Hey," Drew began, annoyed as he rose to his feet. "I got my stitches out, so you can't call me that anymore. What's the big deal about it being at the Battle Pyramid, anyway?"

"I can, and I will as long as you have that scar running up your face." Drew's hand instinctively went to his temple, and Cilan quickly admonished him not to touch it, lest it reopen. "As for the Battle Pyramid... that's none of your business." Paul then shoved his hands into his pockets and stormed away.

"Arceus, I hate him," Drew seethed after he was gone.

Barry flared up in anger.

"How dare you speak such an abomination against Paul? I'm gonna fine you for that!" he said.

Drew, however, ignored him as he turned to May.

"How bad is it, anyway?" he asked.

May blinked in surprise.

"How bad is what?" she asked.

"My scar."

"Oh..."

She tenderly brushed his bangs back to get a better look, and Cilan looked as though he were about to have a fit.

"It's a little red now, but that's probably because you just got them removed," she said reassuringly, offering him a smile. His cheeks suddenly flushed pink with the realization of how close she was, but he pressed his lips together and attempted to maintain his composure. "Your hair hides most of it, anyway."

"It'll fade with time, too," Iris added. "But, I can try to whip up a medicine that'll help it heal faster."

"That would be great," Drew mumbled in response, shaking off the blush. "Thank you, Iris."

"No problem!" Iris chirped. "And don't worry about Paul. Ash has told Cilan and myself about him before. It just seems to me he's anti-social and doesn't know how to talk to people."

"Right, right," Barry agreed, "he's just misunderstood."

"Well, at least somebody likes him," Drew sighed and shook his head. He then looked to Cilan, who was busy cleaning up the supplies he had used to remove his stitches. "By the way, thank you for helping me."

"Oh, it was nothing," Cilan said with a wave of his hand. "We'll just keep a close eye on the scar for a week or so to make sure it doesn't get infected."

In the distance, they heard a call: It was time to get moving for the day.

January 4th, 2002. Late Morning. Battle Pyramid.

"There are an awful lot of people here," Maylene commented, clutching Reggie's arm tightly to maintain her balance as they made their way through the entrance of the Battle Pyramid. She had decided to wear heels to accompany her black dress that day, but being unaccustomed to the shoe type, she was finding some difficulty walking. She supposed she needed to practice for her wedding, though. That was probably one of the few significant life events for which she couldn't justify going barefoot, as she usually preferred to do.

The whole atmosphere of the place had changed. The stands had been pulled back, and the battlefield had been covered. Rather than the florescent lights hanging above, the arena was lit by candles and the natural light of the (rarely) open windows of the entire perimeter of the structure. Fourteen tables were set up in a large circle that encapsulated the entire area, and people had already inundated the place and begun leaving flowers, pictures, and other mementos at the tables.

Outside, several news vans were parked with reporters ready to jump on any mourners for comments. Reggie, himself, had been forced to make a small statement regarding his brother.

"It's tragic what's happened," he had said, drudging up as much emotion in his voice as possible. "He will be missed dearly."

"You meet a lot of people when you go on a journey," Reggie explained presently, "so it doesn't surprise me."

They immediately went to Paul's designated table, and several of the mourners who were observing the individual memorial shied away to visit other memorials when they realized it was family who was approaching. Reggie attempted to catch their faces to see if he recognized any of them, but no one was familiar.

"Where do you suppose they are now?" Maylene asked in a low voice. "They have to be in Johto by now, wouldn't you think?"

"Probably, yes," Reggie agreed, though he was distracted as he wondered who could have possibly left all these flowers. Paul didn't have many friends, and the few people who could be considered candidates had tables of their own set up in the arena.

Reggie suddenly felt Maylene grip his arm tighter. Initially, he wrote it off as her losing balance with her shoes again, but when he looked up, he realized she was signaling him. Brandon was walking toward them.

"Maylene, could you give us a moment alone, please?" Reggie asked, attempting to maintain an even tone.

She nodded and quickly left his side, wobbling as she did, which briefly put a smile on the breeder's face. Brandon cleared his throat, and Reggie deadpanned once again.

"I didn't know you were seeing someone," the Pyramid King said.

"She's actually my fiancée," Reggie corrected. "Her name is Maylene. She's the gym leader of Veilstone. I expect you wouldn't know that, since you've never been there to see either myself or Paul."

"Can we talk?" Brandon asked. His firm expression remained unchanged, despite the bitter utterances Reggie made against him.

"I really don't want to."

"I suppose I figured that."

Reggie kept his head rigidly turned away, refusing to look his father directly in the eye.

"Why did you do this?" he asked. "The memorial, I mean. Why did you reach out to Cynthia?"

"Because you and Paul are my sons-"

"-Oh, now we are." Reggie sounded mildly disgusted. "As nice as this is, do you honestly think it makes up for everything? Paul was 8-years-old when he lost Mom; I was 15. Do you know how that affected Paul? He became a different person than the child you and I knew before Mom committed suicide, and now he's gone completely. We needed you, and you weren't there, because you couldn't deal. Instead, you sent us as far away as possible, to another region, and made us change our name."

His tone remained scarily calm. Even in anger, Reggie maintained his collected demeanor. It was a mark of the Blair-split-Rebolledo family. There was no raw emotion. Reggie had learned to cope by maintaining a positive attitude, hiding under a smile. Paul, on the other hand, shut all feeling down and kept it locked up behind a stoic face.

Brandon let out a long, shaky sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I had my reasons," he said. Emotion seeped through his voice, and he seemed genuinely upset.

"Well, I don't want to hear them."

"Reggie..."

"No," Reggie said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. You're too late. Mom's gone, I don't want to see you again, and Paul is dead."

---

Maylene rubbed her ankle tenderly after it had rolled, cursing her own feelings of inadequacy. Be nominated and accepted as a gym leader over men twice her age? Done. Spar with an immensely powerful Lucario on a near-daily basis? Tougher, but she can still keep up. Walk in heels? Impossible.

She passed by several of the other tables, giving them a cursory viewing as she did. She was sure to pause a little longer at Dawn's and Ash's memorial but kept moving nevertheless. She had a feeling Reggie would become upset with Brandon and want to leave as soon as possible after they finished talking, with which she was fine. It was trying to walk among all these grieving parents, friends, and acquaintances and not comfort them with the knowledge that those who were being honored were actually alive.

"Maylene?" The Veilstone Gym Leader turned to find herself face-to-face with Candice, the Snowpoint Gym Leader. Her breath caught. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I... My fiancé's younger brother, Paul..."

Candice blinked.

"Paul Rebolledo? You're engaged to Reggie?"

Maylene nodded and unconsciously touched the diamond ring on her finger.

"Well, congratulations... I mean..." She faltered, unsure of how she should react. "I'm also sorry about Paul..."

"Thank you," Maylene swept in, trying to assure the Ice-type trainer she wasn't embarrassing herself. "I'll give Reggie your condolences. What are you... ?"

She trailed off, but Candice understood the question.

"Zoey is—was—my best friend." Her voice cracked, and Maylene wanted to leave right then and there. She and Candice didn't know each other too well. They were merely associated as gym leaders under the same Champion, and they had met once last year at a conference Cynthia had organized. They had gotten along well, though, and it was difficult for Maylene to see the upbeat and ever-smiling Candice she remembered look so broken.

"Well, anyway," Candice continued, "I'll let you be on your way."

"Sure, sure..." Maylene stood still as she watched Candice go, and she wondered for how long she would have to keep this secret.

---

"I don't know why we came," Harley groused as he and Solidad worked their way through the ever-increasing crowd of people. "This place is just depressing. Black doesn't suit you, and it certainly doesn't suit me."

"You didn't have to come," Solidad reminded him.

"Of course I did," Harley said flippantly. "You'd judge me if I didn't."

"I wouldn't," Solidad stated plainly. "I would only be miffed if..."

"...this wasn't real?"

"Well, don't say it so loudly." Solidad shifted her eyes to a small group of three by the wayside. "Do you see the two boys with the young woman over there? I'm fairly confident those are Cilan's brothers, talking with Professor Juniper of the Unova region. She's famous for her studies in the origin of Pokémon."

"Your point?"

"Just a small reminder to try to be sensitive to the fact that there are people that don't know."

"That those kids are alive?"

"Harley!"

"Sorry," the male coordinator replied, though he hardly sounded apologetic. "I suppose I'm just put off by the principle of the whole thing."

"Oh, so you have principles?" Solidad jested. "I didn't know."

"Ha ha, very funny," Harley droned. "Yes. Being here, it seems unnaturally cruel to me to put all these people through this emotional roller coaster. Look back at those two brothers. You see the one with the red hair? Look at his eyes. He's probably been crying for days. You don't think the same way?"

Solidad hesitated.

"Well..."

"Oh ho ho!" Harley was suddenly quite pleased with himself. "Let it be known that for this first time in history, I've actually made Solidad Natochenny second-guess her own moral standing rather than the other way around. This truly is an accomplishment."

"Don't get used to it." Solidad brushed her bangs out of her face. "Really, though, I trust that Lance and Cynthia and the other Champions know what they're doing."

"A blind trust." Harley smirked. "Just realize you've placed your faith, which is highly valuable I might add, into a bunch of liars."

"Isn't Wallace your cousin?"

"As much as I dearly love him," Harley began with a dramatic hand over his heart, "he is involved in a pretty shady organization."

"The G-Men," she stated dryly.

"Oh Solidad, I didn't know you were an apologist."

"And I didn't know you were one to subscribe to conspiracy theories."

"Of course I am, we're in the middle of one."

Solidad was tempted to roll her eyes and let out a small chuckle, but her attention was diverted when she caught sight of a familiar shade of green in the waves of people. She whipped her head around to try and look for the color she had seen, but it had disappeared. Harley appeared bemused by her odd behavior.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"For a moment, I thought I saw Drew..."

"Geez, you miss him worse than I thought."

Solidad ignored his comment as she gently pressed her hand against his wrist and said, "Wait here."

She left him behind in a hurry, weaving in and out of people as she sought after that person whom she had seen. She found him exactly where she thought he would: Standing quietly in front of Drew's memorial, his head hanging low, and his hands clasped together behind him.

Solidad slowly approached him and came to stand at his side. She observed the memorial for a long moment before casting the man an inconspicuous glance, observing his features: his sharp emerald eyes, loose grassy hair, a firm jawline that was tense when thinking. He hadn't noticed her presence.

She cleared her throat.

"Sir," she began, but she nearly lost her confidence when he looked at her and she was presented with the full striking resemblance.

"My name is Solidad," she continued after a moment. "I knew your son very well."

July 24th, 1997. Afternoon. Slateport City.

At 16 years old, Solidad was coming into her own as a coordinator, though she humbly would deny her talent when others would attempt to saturate her with praise for her obvious skill and connection with Pokémon. Some would say it was a shame she didn't take on the Pokémon League Challenge. She had the potential to become the next Champion, but Solidad wasn't particularly interested in politics.

It was the beginning of the coordinating season in Hoenn, and thus far, Solidad had won every single contest she had entered, which only prompted more compliments from fans and judges (and her main rival, Harley, though it was difficult to tell whether he was being sarcastic or sincere). By then, it had become a question of who would be the first to earn their five ribbons for the Hoenn Grand Festival that year: herself or three-time Top Coordinator Robert Schemmel. It had also become a question of whether Robert would be upset that year at the festival, though Solidad already knew she needed more refinement in her practice if she ever wanted to dethrone him.

Today, however, she was met with a challenge that nearly broke her win streak. A boy and his Roselia had fought one of the toughest battles in which she had ever participated. He fascinated her; he was so young and yet so impeccably talented. She had ultimately managed to come out on top, but disappointment was natural after a loss, and she could see the tears in his and Roselia's after the clock ran out and she was declared the winner.

He left the battlefield almost immediately, and after she received her fourth ribbon, she resolved to meet him, perhaps to try to take the sting out of the loss. She felt bad about making him cry, and she wanted to at least put them on equal ground.

She hurried backstage and was relieved to find that he hadn't left yet. He had put Roselia back in her Pokéball and was nearly finished packing up.

"Hello," she greeted warmly as she approached him. He was caught off guard by her sudden arrival. His tears had dried, but his eyes were still pink from the salt.

"Hi..." he replied warily.

"It's Andrew, right?"

"Just Drew."

"I see." She could tell he was not particularly keen in talking to her, but she pressed on. "I just wanted to let you know that I think you and your Roselia make an incredible team. It was a great pleasure to battle you today."

That loosened him up.

"Thanks," he said. There was the tiniest hint of a satisfied smirk on his face. "You and your Lapras were pretty great, too."

"Thank you." She tilted her head. "How long have you been training your Roselia?"

"Um," Drew hesitated. "Well, I've known her for a couple years, but we haven't actually been out long. This was our first contest."

"Your... your first?" Solidad was stunned.

"Yeah."

"How old are you?"

"10."

"10!" Solidad was genuinely shocked now. "Wow, that's..."

"What?" Drew sounded suspicious again. She shook her head and offered him a smile.

"It's... very, very rare for a first-time coordinator to make it to the final round of a contest, much less past the appeals round," she explained. "I'm impressed."

"Impressed? Why? I lost."

"It's not all about winning or losing."

"Right... Well, it was nice meeting you..."

"Solidad," she answered for him, realizing she had failed to properly introduce herself.

"Solidad," he finished. He slung his bag over his shoulder. "See you around."

She let him pass by her wordlessly, thinking that was the end of that. Yet, something felt wrong. She didn't want to let him leave. It was strange, considering that she wasn't a pushy person and he obviously didn't want to stick around with her any longer. Nevertheless, she forced herself to call out, "Wait!"

He stopped.

"Would you..." she continued tentatively, "... like to get a cup of coffee?"

January 4th, 2002. Noon. Pewter City.

Solidad felt like she had been thrust 20 years into the future, and that right now she was sitting across from a middle-aged Drew Hayden, tired by the challenges of adulthood but persevering to find success in great things, as he always did. This was a future she had subconsciously drummed up between them, that by then they would both be married (he to May, of course, herself to... well, the jury's still out on that one) and raising a couple of kids. By then, they would have several Ribbon Cups under their belt and be training the next generation of Top Coordinators, yet they would still find the time every Sunday to head over to the local coffee shop for a drink or two.

Of course, this was just a silly fantasy that had formed in her head as she shared a table for two in this small Pewter City café with a man who looked exactly like his son. His name was Christopher, or just Chris.

"How did you and Andrew meet?" he asked before pressing his steaming mug of coffee—black, no sugar or cream—to his lips.

"We're both coordinators," Solidad answered plainly. "Rivals, I suppose you could say. I was his final opponent in his first contest. We became very close over time, though."

"Ah, right, he always wanted to do contests," Chris mused. A long pause followed, and Solidad waited patiently as he struggled to get out the next question, "Did he... ever mention me?"

She knew this one was coming. She tried to smile, but the edge of her lip merely twitched before falling to an indifferent line.

"Yes," she nodded.

"What did he say?"

"Not much, actually," she admitted. "That's actually why I was so interested in meeting you, Mr. Hayden."

"Hayden?" The inquiry threw Solidad off, and she looked at him strangely. His brow was furrowed in thought, and his eyes were narrow, despite the dark lines of sleeplessness drawn below them. It would be inappropriate to describe his expression as confused, though there really was no other word for it. He was in a constant state of thinking, analyzing, and it showed in his face. It was another trait he and his son shared.

"Hayden," she pressed, emphasizing the word. "Drew Hayden is your son ... ?"

"Ah, right." Chris suddenly waved his hand dismissively, as if he had remembered something. A trace of suspicion crossed Solidad's mind, but she quickly brushed it away. She knew this was, without a doubt, Drew's father. There was no other way. They were the splitting image of each other.

"I'm not sure what I could tell you: Andrew and I were not close," Chris continued.

"I figured as much. Running away from home doesn't speak of a happy family life." Solidad then looked up at the father and quickly added, "I'm sorry. That was awful of me to say. Truthfully, I've been predisposed to dislike you, but I'm trying to withhold judgement."

Chris frowned.

"I suppose that's Andrew's working," he said.

"Yes," Solidad dragged out the word slowly, tentatively.

"What's your opinion thus far?"

"Without my early biases? I can't say." Solidad lightly touched her coffee mug, now cold with emptiness.

"I propose a trade-off then." Solidad looked at him curiously. He continued, "I gather you wanted to talk to me because you want to know what happened between Andrew and myself—my side of the story. Am I right?" Solidad nodded.

"Very well," Chris said, leaning back in his chair. "So... if you tell me about Andrew—your Drew—then I will tell you about what happened the night he left La Rousse."

Solidad breathed out. He more than had her attention now.

"All right," she agreed. "I'm not sure where to start, though. You've... missed a lot."

"I suppose we're both at a loss, then."

Initially, Solidad was confused by what he meant. Then she realized he was referring to the fact that Drew was dead. (Supposed to be, anyway.) With his life cut short, they would be missing a lot more.

"Right." Solidad glanced down, gathering her thoughts. "Well, I suppose I could start with his coordinating."

"How was he?"

"Incredible," she replied with a small chuckle. "He had a natural talent for it. It's actually a real shame you never..."

"... went out to see him?"

"Yes." Solidad ducked her head, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing it up. "Really, though. I was actually half-expecting him to become the Top Coordinator at the Johto Grand Festival this year."

"The Johto Grand Festival!" Chris breathed in sharply.

"He had all five of his ribbons," Solidad elaborated. "He would've participated already if it weren't for the festival being pushed back. Oh, sorry-"

"-I know about the festival being pushed back," Chris interjected.

"You do?" Solidad's head perked up. That struck her as odd. She knew the delay had been headlining news across all the regions, but for someone who didn't follow contests closely enough to know his own son participated in them...

"Yes. I-" He suddenly shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair, obviously troubled. "I-I've just remembered I've got somewhere to be."

He stood up abruptly, reaching into his wallet and laying a $20 dollar bill on the table.

"It was a pleasure meeting you. I'm sorry we couldn't talk longer," he mumbled before hurrying out of the café.

"Wait, Mr. Hayden!" Solidad's head whirled as she grabbed her bag and went after him. She stumbled in her rush, however, and he had already disappeared in the throng of people once she made it outside.

She stood motionless for a long moment, utterly baffled, perhaps even a little bit angry, as she became lost in the crowd as well.

January 4th, 2002. Afternoon. Unknown location.

"No, no questions please," the graying, brown-haired woman sniffled in response to an inquiry by a reporter. "You must understand, my son... We ask for privacy at this time."

"Of course, Ms. Hudson."

Giovanni turned the television off, leaving the mother's cries echoing in the room as Dr. Zager, Jessie, James, and Meowth entered through the double doors. In Dr. Zager's hands was Mewtwo's helmet. The renovations had been completed. Giovanni smirked as he rose to his feet to greet the doctor.

"How does it work?" he asked with a falsely pleasant tone.

"This remote," Dr. Zager began, pulling the said object out of his lab coat's pocket, "activates the speakers embedded near the earpieces of the helmet. It plays a sort of high-pitched song—manipulated from Meloetta's voice, as you know—that should render Mewtwo subject to our control. The remote also allows us to control the intensity of the song. The higher the intensity, the more effective the control. The unfortunate side effect, however, is that as the intensity increases, Mewtwo's power will decrease. Meloetta's song is meant to have a calming effect. It's a bug I couldn't completely work out of the system."

Mewtwo listened to the explanation calmly. He had resisted Giovanni's control for nearly three weeks by then, and though his will had been snatched out from underneath him in times of weakness—when he had been forced to attack those children—he still had managed to come to his senses long enough to stop and flee (before, unfortunately, being recaptured each time). Still, with his health rapidly declining from the constant fight back and the new changes to the suit...

Clenching his fists, he attempted to establish a connection for the umpteenth time. The world around him faded out, and he found himself elsewhere, in another soul. The scene was fuzzy and difficult to make out. Everything was bright and colorful, and Mewtwo realized that the boy was awake, making the task all the more difficult. Only in unconsciousness was he ever able to make an impact, however small.

"Ash? Are you OK?" The voice of that redheaded companion of his warbled and sounded watery, a result of the the weak connection.

"Yeah, yeah. I just... got a headache all of a sudden." The boy shook his head, and Mewtwo was thrown out and sent back to his own present.

"So it's about finding balance," Giovanni said.

"Exactly."

"Well, let's give it a test then."

Suddenly, a true sense of panic set in. They'd never find him. He couldn't even give them the necessary guidance, especially if he lost himself to Giovanni. He reached into the depths of his memory, recalling the face of another boy whom he had met long before the trainer from Pallet Town. His head lowered again.

"Put it on him," Giovanni ordered James.

"Uh, yes, sir," James stammered before taking the helmet from Dr. Zager.

Mewtwo opened his eyes again, noticing the approaching grunt.

"No!" A surprise burst of psychic power from within his weakened form lashed out, blowing James back. "I cannot let you touch me—not yet."

"Not yet?" Meowth parroted.

Giovanni gritted his teeth.

"Don't give up! Get it on him before he can finish whatever he's doing!" he ordered.

Another wave of psychic energy sprung from Mewtwo, shattering the suspension that held him prisoner. He immediately dropped to his knees—he hadn't realized how truly weak he was—but in himself he found a last reserve of his incredible power, which, though he knew it would not save himself there in that moment, could at least give him the time needed to set the field in his favor.

"Persian," Giovanni called his loyal cat-like Pokémon to his side. "Use Shadow Claw!"

With a trill war cry and claws blazing purple, Persian himself launched at Mewtwo. Mewtwo sent the Pokémon back with Counter, but he was very soon quickly outnumbered: He found himself facing also a Seviper, a Yamask, and a Carracosta. He was cornered, but this was not the end. No, it was far from it.

Gathering every last bit of himself as he rose to his feet, Mewtwo sent his final and most powerful message.

January 4th, 2002. Afternoon. Unmarked territory.

The excruciating pain overtook Ash suddenly, and he screamed as he collapsed to the ground, shaking and clutching his head. Pikachu cried out in a concern for his trainer, and the dramatic scene caught everyone completely off-guard.

"Dear Arceus." Misty's voice shook with horror as she fell to Ash's side while the others rallied around them. She reached out to grab his hand to pull it away from his head and calm him, but she was quickly deterred.

"No, no!" Trip admonished her harshly, dropping to a knee on the other side of Ash. "If he's having a seizure, then you're not supposed to restrain him. You could hurt him or yourself."

"Ash doesn't have epilepsy!" Dawn retorted, though the waver in her voice suggested she wasn't entirely sure of anything herself.

"Well, we shouldn't take any risks," Trip fought back. "Somebody, get something soft to prop his head up on—a pillow, a blanket, a sleeping bag, anything. Misty, help me turn him on his back."

As soon as he finished speaking, however, Ash's spastic movements suddenly halted, leaving as quickly as they came. The boy fell motionless, and there was sickening silence left in the air. Misty quickly reached around and searched for his pulse.

"He's fine. He's breathing," she said, relieved once she had found it, thumping steadily under his skin.

Everyone else was relieved, too. Pikachu approached his trainer cautiously and gently licked his face.

Ash's eyes opened, and Misty was taken with how wide his pupils were—the familiar pools of brown had disappeared almost completely and been replaced with dark abysses. He sat up abruptly, and Misty backed off. His breathing was heavy, labored, and his head swayed with apparent dizziness.

"Does anyone have some water?" Cilan questioned, breaking the brief spell of silence. "Perhaps this was onset by dehydration."

Ash looked at him strangely, and Cilan became unnerved by the total lack of emotion in his eyes. Gary was prepared and tried to hand Ash a water bottle, but he refused to take it; he didn't even notice it was being offered to him. Gary's gaze narrowed.

"What did you see?" he asked calmly, perceptively.

Leaf sent Gary an appalled look, but the question acted as a trigger for Ash. His pupils suddenly contracted and, snapping out of his dream-like state, he gasped out:

"Mewtwo!" He tried to stand.

"Ash, Ash-!" Misty cried out, trying to keep him down.

Ash ignored her as he staggered to his feet, but he stumbled and was caught by Barry and Zoey.

"You need to calm down," Zoey chastised, shouldering half of his weight, "and listen to Misty and sit."

The two guided Ash to a nearby log, and Misty wedged herself in to sit beside him. She wrapped her arms firmly around his frame to keep him from toppling over. This dragged Ash further back into reality, and he glanced at her with wide eyes before quickly looking away again.

Gary exchanged a quick gaze with Leaf, and she furrowed her eyebrows at him. He then strolled over to Ash and met him at his level.

"Water?" he offered for a second time, now that Ash was more mentally present.

"Yeah." Ash nodded quickly as he gratefully accepted the bottle. "Thanks."

He was having difficulty concentrating, however, as he was unable to unscrew the cap. Misty had to jump in and help him out. Once Ash had taken his first drink, Gary continued:

"So, what about Mewtwo?" He went straight to the point, and Leaf sent him another irritated glance. She was surprised (and pleased), though, when Iris stepped up to protest.

"Hey, give him a moment," the Dragon-type trainer bristled. "He's just had a..." Her voice suddenly trailed off, unsure of what to call it.

"... a vision?" Gary looked to Ash for confirmation.

Ash wiped his mouth. Although he had finished off the entire water bottle, his throat still felt very dry. It certainly didn't help that his head was still pounding and that his mind felt so jumbled up that he thought he might be sick.

"I... I guess so," he hesitated. "Something like that."

"What did you see?" Gary repeated his earlier question.

Ash closed his eyes, attempting to organize his thoughts.

"Well... I..." he began finally, "I... actually think I was seeing things through Mewtwo's eyes. I mean, I think I've always been seeing things through his eyes, but this is the first time I could, y'know, remember."

"Where was he?" Leaf asked, unable to resist the temptation.

Gary looked at her smugly, but she pretended not to see him.

"I don't know," Ash confessed. "I don't think Mewtwo's sure either. But he's hurt. I mean, really, really hurt. He was in the middle of a battle with four other Pokémon, but he knew he was going to lose. I heard him say it in his thoughts. And then he showed me something." He stopped, and his gaze grew distant.

"Showed you..." Drew prompted, gesturing with his hand, "... what?"

"It gets kinda confusing from there," Ash explained. "I was suddenly at Mt. Silver. At least, I'm pretty sure it's Mt. Silver, 'cause I saw the stadium for the Silver Conference, too. But everything was empty, and it was cold and snowy. Anyway, I was hiking up Mt. Silver and saying the mountain's name over and over again—I don't know why, I just was—and then I saw someone. Another trainer, with really red hair and grey eyes. He turned around to talk to me, but he spoke with Mewtwo's voice, and he told me it was really important I meet him. It ended there."

"You're remembering this a lot better than the dreams," Ritchie commented once Ash had finished.

The raven-haired trainer shrugged.

"It was very vivid," he said. "Everything else has just been kind of ... hazy."

"Maybe Mewtwo felt this was so important that he didn't want you to forget?" May suggested. "It certainly looked vivid, though. Gosh, Ash, you scared us so much!"

Ash rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and apologized for making her and everyone else worry. Leaf bit her lip nervously, thinking. Gary was watching her carefully, of which she was well-aware.

"So, what now?" Kenny asked, folding his arms.

"Well, we have to go to Mt. Silver of course!" Dawn scoffed. "Right, Ash?"

Ash nodded.

"Right," he agreed. "It can't be too far away, right? We're already in Johto."

"No, I'm sorry," Leaf suddenly cut in, gleaning the attention of the fourteen other trainers. "It's too risky, and Clair is expecting us soon. Ash, I'll have you write down what you saw, and we'll hurry to Dragon's Den. We can be there in as little as three days if we pick up our pace. I'll then deliver this information to Lance, and he'll take care of it."

"Are you kidding me?"

Leaf had completely expected Gary or Ash to fight back, and she had mentally prepared herself to retaliate. Gary had been waiting for this moment to happen, and Ash was undoubtedly determined to follow the promptings of his supposed vision, which was why she was completely floored when the words of indignation came not from either of the Pallet Town trainers, but Paul. Everyone else was equally surprised, too.

"Paul?" Leaf maintained an even tone, refusing to let her shock sharpen her voice.

The Veilstone trainer, who had been kneeling near Ash to hear him speak, slowly rose to his feet and faced her head on.

"Didn't you listen to him at all? In his... vision," he said the word carefully, sounding a little unsure, "the other trainer said it was important Ash meet him. Not Lance."

"This isn't Ash's responsibility," Leaf retorted. "Lance and the G-Men will find Giovanni and save Mewtwo."

"I'm sure you and Lance would like to think that, but let's talk about the big Donphan in the room: Ash is the Chosen One, Lance isn't," Paul argued back.

Dawn exhaled quickly, unable to believe what she was hearing. Ash looked at Paul strangely, amazed his old rival was saying this—defending him!

"You don't actually believe that," Leaf accused. "You were the one who treated my theory about Ash and the Shamouti prophecy as trivial that first night in Pallet." Now her voice was sharp.

"Why wouldn't he believe?" Gary jumped in. "Don't you?"

"Shut up, Gary," she snapped. "You don't believe it either."

"Wait, wait... what?" Ash suddenly interjected, shaking his head. He was still too dazed to fully grasp the situation, but he was baffled and upset he had apparently become a point of contention. "You guys are fighting over this? When did this become a fight?"

"The night you had that dream, it did," Paul answered, though his eyes never left Leaf.

She folded her arms and glared back at him.

"What do you mean?" Ash continued.

Paul broke eye contact with Leaf to look at his old rival.

"Look," he began tersely, "I don't know if I actually believe you're the Chosen One or not. But, after you had that dream that led us straight to finding out that armored Pokémon was Mewtwo... I started to wonder. We all started to wonder. If anyone here says otherwise, they're lying. Am I right?" He then passed his gaze over the other twelve trainers, who all responded with silence—a guilty affirmation.

"And now with this..." Paul faced Leaf again. "... it should be clear that we should follow Ash's lead. If he says we need to go to Mt. Silver, then we need to go to Mt. Silver."

Leaf sucked in a frustrated breath.

"No," she repeated.

"Well, we don't have to listen to you," Paul dismissed. "You're outnumbered fourteen to one."

"Don't test me, Paul."

"Consider yourself being tested," he replied coldly. She tilted her head, and he continued, "How about this: You and I have a battle right here, right now. If I win, we go to Mt. Silver. If you win, we'll all shut up and follow you to Dragon's Den."

"Why would I agree to that?" Leaf rolled her eyes.

"Lance presumably was OK with putting you in charge because you're a strong, smart trainer. If I can prove myself a better trainer than you, well..."

Gary shook his head, mumbling under his breath, "No way she'll-"

"-Fine!" Leaf huffed as she retrieved a Pokéball from her waist, catching Gary by surprise. "My terms, though: We don't have a lot of time to waste, so it'll just be one on one. No exchanges allowed, obviously. First trainer whose Pokémon is unable to battle, loses." Paul smirked.

"Ladies first."

January 4th, 2002. Afternoon. Battle Pyramid.

The crowd had begun to thin out as the afternoon went on, for which Cynthia was thankful. It had already been a long day, and it wasn't even 2 p.m. yet. With the nasty stares she and Wallace and Alder had received, it was no wonder Lance didn't want to come.

"I'm awfully sorry people have been rude to you," Steven commented, seeing another pair of judgmental eyes pass over his wife. "This I don't miss."

"I expected it," Cynthia confessed, "and in a roundabout way, I'm glad it's happening. This is exactly why the G-Men took the fall. The more the general public hates us, the more convincing our story appears to Team Rocket."

She folded her arms over her lower abdomen.

"I'm going to have to start covering up better," she went on, changing the subject.

"Why?" Steven inquired.

"I'll be demonized once it starts becoming more obvious that we're having a baby," she explained. "To be responsible for the lives of fourteen other parents' children, and then to have one of my own? I'd like to come out of this mess with some sense of respect."

"People will always respect you," he said. "To be honest, Lance's head is more at stake than anyone's. This happened in his region under his division because of a Kantonese crime organization."

Cynthia lowered her eyelids.

"Right..."

"Steven!"

The couple turned upon his name being called, and they found that Norman and Caroline were approaching. Max was trailing behind them.

"Norman, good to see you're here," Steven greeted affably. "How have you all been holding up?"

"Just all right," Caroline replied with a subdued smile. Her arm was linked with her husband's. "I was speaking to Delia and Johanna earlier. I think we're all thankful for the fact that we live in small towns, so the attention hasn't been too overwhelming. But, today, being here, it's been exhausting."

"I can empathize," Cynthia said with an understanding nod. "Was there something you needed from us?"

Caroline hesitated.

"Well... I actually was curious as to whether..." she began tentatively.

"Not yet," Steven answered, understanding her question. "We would have received word from Clair. We expect to hear from her in a couple of days, though."

"Oh, I see." Caroline had trouble concealing the disappointment in her voice. "Thank you."

Meanwhile, Max stood by awkwardly squirming as an older couple passed by them, giving the family a sympathetic look.

"C'mon, Mom, let's go," he groaned. "It's weird having all these people watch us pitifully like we're some charity case."

"All right, sorry," Caroline agreed. "We'll go back to the hotel."

She and Max started to leave, but Norman broke away from her.

"I'll be with you in a moment," he told his wife. "Wait for me outside."

She nodded, and he turned back to Cynthia and Steven.

"Norman?" Steven inquired once they were alone.

The gym leader inhaled deeply before asking in a low voice, "I wanted to know whether you were any closer to finding Giovanni."

"We've found information, yes," Steven affirmed.

"Good, good," Norman mused. "You see, I... you must understand. This is my daughter."

"We are acutely aware, Mr. Maple," Cynthia assured him. "Although we're projecting incompetency in the public eye, no ill will befall May. Clair will see to that. And as long as Giovanni doesn't suspect anything..."

"Nevertheless, I want to help," Norman continued. "I don't whether Wallace is going to reopen Hoenn gyms or not, but even so, to keep the appearance of mourning, I'll likely keep it closed anyway. I don't want to sit on my hands and wait, though. I know there probably isn't much I can do now, but..."

"But?" Steven gently pressed.

"... We all know there's a storm coming. It's unclear what Giovanni's planning, but I imagine if he's got that Pokémon that attacked my family at his command, then it's going to be bad. When disaster does break out, I want to be there on the front line. I know I'm not the only one."

Steven pressed his lips together, tempted.

"It's not my call," he said plainly.

Although his expression didn't show it, Cynthia realized—they both did—the full loss that came with Steven no longer being a Champion.

"But it is mine," Cynthia cleared her throat. "We'll keep you in mind, Mr. Maple."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stone," Norman replied. He shook both of their hands and left to find his family.

Once he was gone, Cynthia sighed and massaged her temples in frustration.

"Everything OK, Cyndi?" Steven asked with concern. Her hands dropped to her side.

"I just hope Lance has something more to go off of by the time we get back," she said.

January 4th, 2002. Afternoon. Indigo Plateau.

"Sir," Lance heard Agent Adalet's voice chime in from the radio on his desk, "there is someone here to see you."

''I'm busy right now," Lance replied, continuing his work without pause. He was at his computer, and he had a mess of papers spilling from every direction, including the Team Rocket Hoenn blueprint spread out in front of him.

"He says it's important."

"I'm sure it is."

"He insists."

"Office hours are closed indefinitely, until the Team Rocket organization is crippled. Tell him to come back in several months."

"He's come awfully far."

"From where?"

"Opelucid City."

Lance finally stopped, his pen slipping through his fingers as his mouth formed an 'O' shape.

"All right. Send him in," the Indigo Champion finally agreed.

Lance attempted to straighten his workspace in the few minutes before his guest arrived, but he only managed to make everything more disorganized. The door opened, and Lance stopped.

"Hello," he began, rising to his feet to greet his visitor, "father."

Drayden slid the door behind him shut.

"What brings you here?" Lance asked. "I expected you would be at the memorial."

"I was," Drayden conceded, "but when I found out from Alder that you weren't there, I made the trip up here."

"You still didn't answer my question."

An invisible smile twitched beneath Drayden's snowy beard, and Lance only knew of its presence because he had learned to read his expressions years earlier.

"I came to ask about my student," the gym leader said, "but, please, save me the explanation of how she died in your beautifully orchestrated bus accident, as well-rehearsed as I'm sure it is. I have to say it's not the best cover-up the G-Men has ever devised. You're lucky Wallace is such a fantastic public speaker. His speech at the press conference nearly had me convinced."

Lance frowned.

"All right, yes, she's alive," he sighed, "along with the rest of them. How did you know?"

"I raised you," Drayden said plainly. "I know when you're telling a lie. You wouldn't damn your own organization unless you wanted to. Where is she?"

"On her way to Dragon's Den with Leaf. Clair is going to look after them," Lance answered dully. "Please don't interfere. Iris needs to stay put."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Drayden pulled a chair up to Lance's desk, and Lance sat down so they could be on level with each other. "Just keeping tabs. I care about my students as though they were my own children."

"I know."

"I hope you realize it's in your best interests to keep Iris safe," Drayden continued.

"It's actually in Leaf's," Lance corrected.

"Ah," Drayden mused. "I always suspected you fancied her as your replacement. She's impressionable. She's just what you'd want. Already, though? You're not even 30. Traditionally, Champions hold on to their title well into their golden years. Alder's getting older, so of course there needs to be someone in line in Unova, but you..."

"I'm tired," Lance mumbled. "Steven grew tired too, and that's why he gave it up to Wallace. I think he regrets it now, with Team Rocket back on the scene."

"Steven must still be around," Drayden pointed out. "He's married to Cynthia."

"Yes, he's still around," Lance said, "but it's different. He and Cynthia are like-minded, but she is certainly not his puppet."

"She shouldn't be. Making pawns of people is not a good practice. You would do well to learn that."

"Cynthia's just difficult sometimes, that's all," Lance groused, irritated by the criticism.

"You find anyone who disagrees with you difficult," Drayden said. "Alder, Wallace, Cynthia—when did being a Champion become so political?"

"It has to be," Lance answered, though he knew the question was rhetorical.

"Well, I didn't come here to discuss politics." Drayden waved his hand. "When will Iris be back?"

"When Team Rocket is finished," Lance stated plainly.

"When will Leaf be back?"

Lance's expression deadpanned as he returned to his computer, resuming his work.

"Soon."

Sensing his son's uneasiness, Drayden asked, "Are you so sure?"

January 4th, 2002. Afternoon. Unmarked Territory.

"I literally can't believe this," Dawn said, pressing her hands to her lips. "I must be dreaming. This can't be happening."

"What are you rambling about?" Trip grumbled. He, along with Dawn and the other trainers, was waiting on the sidelines, watching Leaf and Paul as they readied themselves for battle.

Ash's water bottle had been refilled, and he was drinking from it once again, trying to recover. He had been relatively silent for the past several minutes, offering no real verbal reaction to Paul standing up for him.

"You don't understand, Trip," Dawn persisted. "Paul and Ash don't exactly get along. This is totally out of left field."

"Look, this is basic stuff," Trip said. "Paul hit the nail on the head. Personal biases aside, if you're not wondering, you're kidding yourself."

"Well, let's just hope Paul manages to pull this off," Ritchie commented. "Since it's only one on one, there's no room for mistakes."

"Paul doesn't make mistakes," Barry scoffed. "Trust me, he'll make short work of Leaf! He's one of the greatest trainers in the world."

"Don't be too sure of that," Gary interjected, and Barry looked offended that his opinion was being contested. "What? I'm cheering for Paul in this too, but Leaf's no pushover. Even if she is just Lance's pet, she's still a G-Men agent, and she's got to have some talent to back up that attitude."

"Gary's right," Ash spoke up for the first time, capturing the attention of his peers. "This isn't going be an easy battle."

Cilan watched the boy for a long moment before rising to his feet and calling out:

"Paul! Miss Leaf! I could be a referee, if you wouldn't mind," he offered.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Cilan," Leaf rejected him without a second thought, and Paul looked at her warily. She continued, "No offense, but I know you'll be rooting for Paul, and I'd prefer to keep this battle as fair as possible. Besides, the winner will be clear without a ref."

"That overconfidence is very unattractive on you," Paul commented snidely.

"I'm not even going to explain the hypocrisy of that statement coming from you." Leaf shook her head.

"Whatever," Paul rolled his eyes. "I promised you the first move, so go."

"Gladly." Leaf enlarged the Pokéball in her hand. "Furret, you're up!"

"Electivire, standby for battle!"

Both Pokémon emerged from their Pokéballs, ready and raring to go. The shadow of the massive Electivire overtook the tiny Furret, but the Normal-type appeared unfazed. Electivire growled at the Furret, trying to intimidate her, but she merely bristled with vigor, prepared to fight.

"No surprise there," Dawn mumbled. "Electivire is one of Paul's favorites and one of his strongest."

"I suppose that figures," Drew said. "If Paul really wants to win, then he'll be pulling out all the stops to ensure himself victory. Although, that Furret certainly doesn't look like it'll just roll over."

"Well, in terms of size, Paul's got Leaf beat," Kenny said.

"In ego, maybe," Zoey added.

"Furret, let's start off with Hone Claws!" Leaf called the first move with a smile.

"Electivire, Brick Break," Paul ordered calmly.

Electivire charged toward Furret as she prepared her claws, but she quickly leapt up and dodged the attack without Leaf's prompting. Electivire's massive hand instead met the ground, sending a ripple of dirt and dust into the air. Everyone—including Leaf and Paul—had to throw up their arms to protect their eyes or use their jackets to cover their noses and mouths.

"That Furret's fast!" Iris marveled, coughing.

"That dust has gotta make it hard to see, though," Kenny added.

"Maybe," Cilan mused, "but one of Furret's special abilities is Keen Eye, which prevents a loss of accuracy."

"Quick Furret, use Fury Swipes!" Leaf forced out her next order, taking advantage of the situation.

Furret latched onto Electivire's head and slashed mercilessly at his face, causing the Electric-type to stumble back.

"Electivire, use Thunder while it's close!"

The red tips of Electivire's tails sparked before overtaking both of them. Furret ceased her onslaught and writhed in pain for a long moment, crying out her own name.

"Furret, get away and use Dig!" No sense of panic was evident in Leaf's voice. Furret escaped by jumping directly over Electivire's head and burrowing into the ground behind him.

"Smart move," Gary commended. "Electivire's Thunder can't have any effect while Furret's underground."

"Electivire, Protect."

Electivire surrounded itself in a veil, making sure to also cover the ground beneath himself.

"Also a smart move," Misty said. "Now Furret's Dig won't have any effect either."

Furret emerged in front of Electivire, and Paul ordered a ThunderPunch attack. However, Leaf countered by again telling Furret to burrow, to which Paul told Electivire to use Protect a second time. This cycle continued for several more turns without any resolution.

"This won't do," May said, chewing on the tip of her thumb. "They can't keep dodging each other forever. Someone's going to have to give."

"Well, with Protect having a 50 percent decay rate every time it's used in battle and with Furret, I imagine, growing tired from constantly tunneling underground, it can't be much longer." Drew suddenly paused, his eyes widening with realization. "Wait-"

"What is it?" May asked curiously.

"Look at the field," he told her. "Electivire's completely surrounded by a bunch of holes from Furret constantly digging underground! Leaf..." He looked toward her, watching her expression carefully. "... she's planning something."

Furret jumped out of the ground for the umpteenth time, and Paul called for another ThunderPunch, growing frustrated with Furret's ability to get away every time with her speed. This time, however, Leaf did not order Furret to Dig. Thus, Furret, with visibly increasing anxiety, watched Electivire charge toward herself, his fist glowing with immense electric power.

"What's she doing?" Trip sounded appalled. "She's not even telling her Pokémon to dodge, and that's basic!"

"Whose side are you on?" Iris growled at him. "If that ThunderPunch lands, then there's a chance this battle will be over!"

It did. Electivire brought its fist under Furret, hitting her under the jaw and launching her up into the air. Leaf winced in sympathy for her Pokémon, but smirked with satisfaction, catching Paul, Electivire and the rest of the trainers by surprise. Furret survived the massive blow, as Leaf had predicted, and now hovered above Electivire.

"She wanted this," Paul breathed out.

"All right Furret, time for Giga Impact!"

Furret dove directly toward Electivire at full speed, giving Paul little time to tell him to dodge—and even less time for the Electric-type to obey. Unable to react quickly enough, Furret made contact with Electivire head-on, knocking him down. The sudden impact of Electivire's weight caused the ground to give way beneath him. Furret's tunnels had collapsed, burying him. Again, a cloud of dirt was kicked up into the air, making it impossible to see.

"Electivire!" Paul called out. An edge of concern was present in his tone.

Leaf said nothing, looking on hopefully.

Once the fray cleared, Furret rose up, standing tall on her back legs triumphantly. She was on top of Electivire, who had fainted from the powerful move.

"Furret!" the Normal-type chirped happily. Leaf let out an uncharacteristic giggle of delight and called her Pokémon to her. Furret happily obeyed, leaping into Leaf's arms for a hug.

"Excellent job," she cooed to the Long Body Pokémon, and Furret nuzzled her face in response. Electivire came around, and Paul approached him, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Thanks," he mumbled, calling him back into his Pokéball. "Take a good rest."

"I can't believe it," Barry awed. "Paul lost!"

"You have to admit, though, that was an incredible strategy on Leaf's end," Ritchie said. "Creating those weak spots in the ground, so Giga Impact, already a powerful move, could have that great of an effect..."

Misty bit her lip, leaning toward Ash.

"Ash," she began very seriously. "What now?"

He shrugged.

"I suppose we go to Dragon's Den," he muttered dejectedly. "That was the deal."

"No, that was Paul's deal," Gary protested. "Don't give up that easily, Ashy-boy. Paul made a good point earlier. It's still fourteen to one."

"I can hear you, Gary," Leaf called from a short distance away. Furret was still in her arms. "Sorry, but by watching and wanting Paul to win, I'd say you were all at least complicit with the deal made."

"Right," Paul grumbled, though it chagrined him to agree. "I stick to my word, so I'm not going to fight you on this anymore."

"Thank you." Leaf smiled, rubbing her Furret affectionately on the head. Her expression suddenly changed though, and her face fell as she thought.

Paul raised his eyebrows, watching her carefully.

"You know, I have to admit, Paul," she began distractedly. "It really impressed me today, you defending Ash like that. I'm sure I'm not the only one!" She let out a small chuckle, and Dawn felt an odd tingle run down her spine, noting how the words resonated with her. Her eyes drifted to Paul, who was currently expressionless.

"You really put your pride on the line for this battle, considering that you and Ash aren't even friends... and that everyone probably hates you now that you've lost. Well, not as much as me, but you still let them down," she continued.

"I really hope there's a point to this," Paul groused, "because this is not making me feel any better."

"There is," Leaf affirmed. "You're the last person I'd ever imagine teaching me something about forsaking pride in the name of doing what you think is right, but you schooled me today."

Paul furrowed his eyebrows.

"What?" he asked, baffled. She returned Furret to her Pokéball.

"We're going to Mt. Silver."

.

.