For Gyarados' Rage. :) I updated soon as I could for you!

No

XXI

Zarchin stared at the wood door before him, and gently raked his claws over the fur of his arm. This was his old human owner, so why was he so scared. Maybe it was because he feared that his human would no longer recognize him, or worse, completely forgot about him. The creature was anxious and utterly nervous about the outcome, and he waited with bated breath. He waited until a voice called from behind the door:

"Come in."

He let out the deep breath he had been holding, and Zarchin opened the door, slipping in to a warm underground room. N turned up, a smile on his face, and his expression, seeing the Pokémon, changed into surprise. "Oh, hello," he said. "I thought you were Virizion."

Zarchin smiled, and softly closed the door. "No, sorry to disappoint, but I am Zarchin."

"Yes, you work for the heads."

Zarchin nodded, and moved closer to the human, lowering himself into a crouch. "So, kid, how are you holding up?" he asked.

N, who was on the floor leaning against his cot, let out a deep sigh. "I'm okay," he said softly, and he turned his head to look away from the Pokémon. "Just thinking."

Zarchin looked over his human, and realized how much he had really changed. His face had become more narrow and defined, his body taller and thinner, and his hair wilder, longer, and thicker. He had changed, too: he had become stronger and wiser. Unable to control it anymore, he laid a claw to the human's shoulder, causing him to look at the Pokémon.

"Natural, it is me."

N stared long and hard for a moment before realization struck him, causing his eyes to widen and his mouth to fall open. Memories of a little bouncing Zoura flooded his mind: them playing on a colourful floor with little prints of clouds and rainbows, them laying together in mirth—them always together in that little room. Then the day when his little friend was taken from him; the Zoura screaming, biting and scratching in fear, and he crying. That was the day his father did things to him, and wouldn't stop—carrying it on for years after that. N shifted, staring at the Zorak, who was silent.

"Zoura?"

He had remembered, and Zarchin smiled.

"Hello."

N didn't say anything more; he allowed his actions to speak for themselves: he launched himself into his old friend's waiting, caste-loving arms, and cried in happiness, allowing the wetness to stain his hot red flesh. Zarchin could only return the affection upon the same way.

Cilan dropped the book he was holding.

His hands trembled, sweat beading along his forehead and rolled down his cheeks, and his breathing was extremely shaky. Pansage watched, confused by his owner's actions, and his lithe tail twitched in anxiety. Cilan stood up, hands just by the sides of his head, and his eyes wide.

"Oh, God, Oh, Lord," he grumbled, slouching forward until his head passed his knees.

The little grass monkey watched, confused and a little frightened. Cilan shivered as if he had his clothing ripped off his body and he was thrown out into a cold area, naked and alone. Pansage swallowed thickly, tail trembling, and watched.

"This can't be happening," he rasped out.

Cilan kicked the horrid book across the room, and treated it as if it were diseased or something akin to that. Pansage leapt up at the sharp reaction, not really wondering if his human was okay. The little grass monkey nudging his human's shaking arm.

"Pansage? Pan pan?"

Cilan turned to his Pokémon, eyes wide with pure horror, and they only just started to water like a waterfall. His entire life was a lie. Starting from the second he was born—everything he knew was all a grand fabrication. Nothing was real here, and he was just a pawn, as was everyone else. Puppets! Just little toys. Oh, Lord, how could this be?

"This c-can't be happening," he stated, voice shaking, and he gripped his Pokémon. "T-tell me this c-can't be happening!"

Pansage didn't know what to do; he just reached up with his fat paw, and wiped away a tear that rolled down his human's face. Cilan pulled him close, hugging him tight, as he rocked in place. After what appeared to be five minutes, Pansage squirmed from his human's vice grip, leapt down from his warm lap, onto the floor he went, and he snatched up the book, offering it to his human. Cilan stared at the simple book, eyes wild and wet. He took it, and rushed back to where he found it, trying to forget its existence. But like a heartbeat, it thumped its way into his thoughts and dreams, causing him to have a restless night sleep.

"Cilan, you look terrible."

Dark bags under his eyes, hair a little stiff and dead, and his face blank of all emotion—he blinked, staring down at the nervous Iris and her little Axew, who was now poking out of her thick mass of hair, and staring at the other human with a worried look. Pansage looked at his human with equal worry, and Cilan forced a smile on his face. He couldn't tell Iris what his brother wrote, not yet, anyways.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You barely spoke to me today."

There were stares from others in the background, noticing his disheveled appearance. Cilan frowned, but continued to nod his head. "Yes, Iris, do not worry," he said, placing his hand to her shoulder. The workday was over for today, and he just wanted to go home and try to get a goodnight's sleep, because, after all, he had a dinner date with Burgundy. "You have to go. Don't you have a date with Black?"

She narrowed her eyes at the mentioning of her husband. "Yeah," she hissed, standing up to smooth out her dress. "I don't wanna."

"But you must."

"I know that."

Axew sunk back into her mass of purple hair, and Iris let out a deep, anxious sigh. "I'm sorry," she muttered, turning to stare at her dear friend. "I just don't feel like seeing him today."

Cilan nodded in his understanding for her plight.

"Well, I've gotta go."

Cilan turned up to stare at her, and nodded his head. "Yes, I know," he said, suddenly remembering their restrictions from each other. "Goodbye."

"See ya," she said, giving a little wave of her hand.

Cilan returned the wave as he watched his dear friend leave. He let out a sigh.

He stared at where he had returned the book, glaring at the bed as if it were the most evil thing he had ever set his eyes upon. Pansage was silent, just looking at his human as his tail lazily trashed from side to side. He could easily sense that his human was not feeling right—it was very obvious on his face and body language. Cilan glanced at his Pokémon, frowning, and attentively reached over to give him a consulting pat of friendship. Pansage responded warmly, rubbing his head against the human's palm, both drenched in platonic affection for each other. Cilan stared out of his window, that stern flat line of his lips still etched upon his face, and he let out a deep sigh.

Just another day waiting for Zarchin.

He stored food in a cardboard box in his closet. Cilan and his Pansage had collected food in late hours of the night, after long shifts for a few days now, and every day, he would add a single item (or more if he was lucky) to his slowly growing collection. Today it was a single bottle of water, also, to his luck, a single candy bar. It was some nut bar slathered with honey that kept it all glued together. Cilan glanced over his collection: five bottles of water, ten power bars, six candy bars, and a single bottle of berry juice. He knew he needed more. And, again, he would collect more food. But today he couldn't search for food, for he had a date with his wife.

He didn't want to, but he had to.

"Cilan, are you alright?"

Cilan glanced up to look at his wife, who had a worried expression upon her features. Her Deerling sat obediently at her side, and glanced up to Cilan, only to turn away with disinterest. They were having dinner at this lovely restaurant, and as far as the eye could see were people. Wives with their husbands, a group of friends, or the young married couples like them—those who still had their Pokémon by their sides.

"Fine," Cilan answered as he took a bite from his meal.

Pansage glanced up at his human for a brief moment before returning to his feast.

"You're thinking about your brothers?"

Cilan gave her an icy stare, and she looked away in shame, finding sudden interest in her meal. It was silent at their table, but in the background it was noisy with chatter and the clattering of silverware on plates. He wondered how Iris was doing.

"But . . . you are okay, right?"

He glanced at her, and she looked at him expectantly.

"Yes," he answered. "I am fine."

Burgundy was silent, but she did not question her odd husband. Pansage ate in the awkward silence, and Deerling was ignoring everything that was going on.

Cilan glared at the book that he had retrieved from the inside of the bed. He had not touched it for days now, but for some reason, he wanted to see it. He wanted to read the rest of it well, part of him did. The other part of him wanted nothing to do with it. The other half wanted to set it on fire for its evil writings of the uncomfortable, ugly truth. Cilan scrapped his fingernails against his leg's warm flesh, glaring at the book, debating whether or not he should read the rest of it. Pansage stared at his human, his lithe tail curled around his feet, and he was completely silent.

The air was stale, and both beings were breathing heavily.

Cilan then grabbed the book in his shaking hands, and opened it.