The Ash Connection II: The Rising

by I am Lu

Seven years have passed since the fall of Team Rocket. Lance, Cynthia, and Alder have left their Championship seats to a new generation of trainers who will face their first true test after Team Plasma terrorizes Iris on the day of her inauguration. Multiple pairings, including Pokeshipping, Contestshipping, and Ikarishipping, among others. Sequel to "The Ash Connection."

26. XXV: In Which Steven Weighs In

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Chapter XXV: In Which Steven Weighs In

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July 16th, 2009. Middle of the night. Opelucid City.

Iris, drained as the nighttime hours dwindled away, pressed her fingers to her fatigued eyes and sank lower in her chair. She was situated near the video phone she and Cilan kept in a secluded corner of their home, and they were waiting. Cilan himself was seated in a chair parallel to hers with his withering gaze half-occupied with a copy of The Symbiosis Between Pokémon and Humans. He occasionally would pause unenthusiastic reading to check his phone for the time but otherwise did little of note. Iris did nothing at all.

Eventually, she straightened herself up again and, with a fading voice, said, "This time difference is killing me."

"It would certainly be less taxing if she called before the afternoon in Kalos time," Cilan mused, turning a page. "It can't be helped, though. She's in the middle of filming, so her schedule is inflexible."

"Mm," Iris hummed in agreement, but she said nothing further. Something in her tone intrigued Cilan, so he lifted his eyes toward her, examining her through the rims of his glasses.

"Would you rather I stay or go?" he asked, and Iris, her mind torpid from exhaustion, looked at him with confusion. He clarified, "For your conversation, I mean."

Iris blinked, processing; then, she hesitated.

"Um..." she started, unsure. Despite the chain of favors Cilan had set into motion for her benefit, Iris had actually told him little of why she wanted to speak with Diantha. He had stayed up with her, though, perhaps partially through investment and partially through a spousal sense of duty—this was not the first time they had sat with each other through late nights—yet, she had not considered whether his presence would be welcomed in her meeting.

Sensing her uncertainty, Cilan pulled back and shut his textbook.

"I just remembered—" he started graciously, rising to his feet. "—I have some papers to grade before class tomorrow." In truth, Cilan had no papers to grade, and if he did, he would have finished them long before then. Iris knew this, and she felt a sting of guilt despite him giving no indication he was upset by his removal.

When he was gone, Iris let out an audible sigh and let her face fall to her hand. She then stared ruefully at the video phone for a while, beginning to wonder whether Diantha had forgotten or had become occupied with other matters. Yet, almost as if it were an answer, the screen of the video phone bloomed white, and the speakers emitted a pitchy ring, causing Iris to nearly fall out of her seat in surprise. Quickly regathering herself, Iris scrambled to answer, pausing only a moment to suck in her breath before hitting the button to receive the call.

A grainy image of the Kalos Champion appeared, and with her came digitally warbled greetings of "Hello, can you hear me?" Iris opened her mouth to reply, but it was then that the video feed came into focus and the sound became clear, and Diantha spoke again.

"Hello, Ms. Ajagara? Are you able to hear and see me me well?" Her voice was beautifully thick with the sound of her language, moreso than the other Kalosian natives Iris knew.

"I—I can!" Iris answered; a small surge of adrenaline had rendered her breathless, but only for a moment. "Can you hear and see me?"

"I can."

"Good! Good..." Iris rubbed her hands together nervously. "Thank you for talking to me. I know you have a very busy schedule."

"It is a pleasure," Diantha kindly assured her. "May I ask, though: For what do you need to speak with me?"

"Um..." Iris grasped for the right way to start this conversation. What Diantha had written could have been nothing more than conjecture, and Iris knew her inquiry could leave them both embarrassed if it came down to that. "Your card..."

"My card?" Diantha blinked.

"Yeah." Iris fumbled for the pendant, the pearl with rainbow whips and silver wings, hanging from her neck and showed it to Diantha. "This—this is a key stone, right?"

"Oh, yes." Diantha nodded, now remembering.

"Key stones are a part of Mega Evolution." Iris recapitulated her own limited knowledge. "Could you... tell me more about it? I've heard you know a lot about it."

"Ah, Mega Evolution." Diantha'a eyes lit up at the mention. "Yes, I know some—my partner, Gardevoir, and I have tapped into its power for years now."

"Mm, your Gardevoir is capable of Mega Evolution, right?" Iris asked.

"Yes, she is." Diantha smiled; this was evidently a topic dear to her. "I'm sure you've also heard that, traditionally, Mega Evolution requires both a key stone and a Mega Stone in order to activate, correct?" Iris nodded, and Diantha continued, "Well, there's another part of Mega Evolution that's less known but just as important, if not more."

Iris leaned closer to the screen, intrigued.

"You see," Diantha continued, "the relationship between the trainer and the Pokémon is truly what enables Mega Evolution to take place. There must be love there; there must be trust. It's strange, and sad, to see trainers venture from all over the world to Kalos to learn the secrets of Mega Evolution in the pursuit of power—but they can never achieve it, because they do not revere their Pokémon with the compassion that is necessary to bring that power forward."

"There are only certain Pokémon who can Mega Evolve though, right?" Iris pressed.

"There are only certain Pokémon who know can evolve with the use of a Mega Stone," Diantha corrected. "There is little research into the fact, but I firmly believe all Pokémon have the ability to Mega Evolve; we just haven't discovered the formula for it. Many aren't aware, but Mega Evolution has existed for thousands of years Yet, there came period in human history where we lost the knowledge of how to Mega Evolve Pokémon, but with researchers like Professor Sycamore, we are now rediscovering it."

This was exactly what Iris was hoping to hear, and, feeling more bold, she asked, "Then, what you wrote in your card... You believe it's true Pokémon can evolve without a Mega Stone?"

"I do." Diantha nodded.

"What gives you that idea?" Iris asked.

"Personal experience," Diantha answered. A wry, knowing look briefly glazed over her eyes. "My Gardevoir is known for her ability to Mega Evolve, but I have seen another of my Pokémon Mega Evolve."

Iris drew back in surprise.

"Which one?" she asked.

"My Aurorus," Diantha replied.

"That's..."

"Not a Pokémon that has a Mega Stone, I know." Diantha smiled again and leaned back into her chair. "A story: Aurorus is an original revival, meaning he is not a Pokémon bred from a parent or grandparent who was revived from a fossil using Silph's technology. He was brought back from a fossil discovered in Glittering Cave, but he entered this world a little... consternated, shall we say?"

"Consternated?" Iris questioned.

"You'll find, sometimes, that previously fossilized Pokémon are disoriented after their rebirth, and that can cause some trouble," Diantha explained. "Aurorus was one of them. When he was regenerated, he was so agitated that he launched into a rage through Ambrette Town, which I happened to be visiting at the time. The poor researchers at the fossil lab were overwhelmed and couldn't stop him alone, so I helped push him out of the town and back into Glittering Cave—and that's where something amazing happened.

"The other trainers who were with me, who were helping me, they were frustrated—understandably so—but their plan was to bring Aurorus into submission through battle, and I—" Diantha paused, her eyes grow hazy with the memory. "—I saw that Aurorus was afraid. And so, I insisted the others remain behind and that I be alone with Aurorus. They hesitated, but they eventually obliged. I was able to talk to Aurorus then, show him I cared.

"He did attack me, initially. When I tried to pet him, he snapped at my hand—broke some bones, drew some blood. Yet, I didn't back down, and that was what made the difference. There was a change in him, and he became penitent for what he had done. Shortly after our reconciliation, we were attacked by an Onix upon whose territory we had trespassed. Aurorus, now firmly protective of me, confronted him, and to my shock, I felt my key stone react. Aurorus Mega Evolved. I was so shocked—I hadn't known a Pokémon like Aurorus could Mega Evolve. We escaped unharmed thanks to Aurorus's bravery, and he agreed to join my party. I immediately visited Professor Sycamore to relay my experience to him, and he was equally surprised. He theorized there must have been a Mega Stone for Aurorus in Glittering Cave, a type of Mega Stone we were not aware existed. We searched and searched but could find no such stone.

"We were baffled but had to shelve the issue, and I began to question myself, question whether I had made the entire thing up. Yet..." Diantha paused again, reached for a water bottle, and unscrewed the cap to take a drink. "Several years ago, Kalos was troubled with a group known as Team Flare. I enlisted the help of a former Napajian G-Men officer to deal with the issue, and he and I eventually confronted the group in the Kalos Power Plant, but that's an aside. While battling some of the Team Flare administrators, the attack of a Mightyena directed at me infuriated my Aurorus. His protective nature incited once again, he Mega Evolved and was able to protect me. ... That was how I knew it was not a Mega Stone that drew out his power, but rather his love for me."

Iris was enraptured by this story, and her head became dizzy with dozens of more thoughts and questions. It struck her that Aurorus was once a fossilized Pokémon, not unlike the Lileep which carried the virus that had now dug its claws into her region.

"So, it's..." Iris shook her head. "This is a weird request."

"What is it?" Diantha inquired, tilting her head.

"Could you... possibly send a blood sample of your Aurorus to Unova?" Iris asked.

---

With each passing night, Gary grew torturously more restless. It was difficult to sleep when everything in him ached, and the wound in his ankle, wrapped in gauze and concealed by pajama bottoms, still burned from the toxic bite that was slowly killing him, and he knew it would kill him if he didn't find a treatment soon.

He also knew it wouldn't be long before the others noticed death casting its shadow on him; they could only conflate his illness with stress, which he had insisted was the issue, for so long before they realized his health was genuinely failing him. If Clemont and Brock remained mute, then Gary supposed he had another couple days before symptoms became too obvious conceal.

Or less.

Gary groaned and shifted uncomfortably when consciousness, bleary and feverish, visited him again that evening. He turned his head on his pillow to see Leaf beside him in bed; she was still asleep, though hers could not be counted as peaceful either. The weight of her leadership was wearing her away, and perhaps that was why she, a masterful liar herself, could not catch his lie; she was too wrapped up in her responsibilities to note he was ailing, but that would only last for so long.

Gary threw his sheets of him and stiffly rose from bed. He dragged his injured foot with him to the bathroom adjacent to the guest room and flicked on the yellow lights inside.

And felt his breath stop.

He had only cast a glance toward the mirror, but that was enough. He gripped the edges of the counter and leaned toward his reflection to ensure he wasn't imagining it, that his sleep-addled mind wasn't inventing new visions that would terrify him in the night. Yet, a closer inspection caused his stomach to drop and for him to mutter a curse. His scleras were tinted lavender.

"Gary?"

Gary saw Leaf lift her head from their bed, and he jerked his head forward, so she could not see his eyes. Rather, he kept his gaze on his fate, on the purplish hues that portended his demise.

"Hey Leafy Greens." His voice was strained, but he still managed to capture the smug quality that flavored his personality and said everything was okay.

"What are you doing up?" she yawned.

"Just..." He struggled to answer. He slowly turned to her; the backlighting concealed his colors, including those in his eyes. "... you know." He moved forward, toward the other side of the bedroom, where she still wouldn't be able to distinguish the changes in his face.

"Arceus, are you still limping?" she asked, exasperated.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you don't have a stress fracture?"

"No, no," Gary corrected, shaking his head. "I just twisted it when Lopunny attacked me."

Leaf pursed her lips, visibly bothered by the mention.

"Mhm," she hummed. He had told her—and the others—that Buneary had escaped her cage and evolved in the process, as a way of explaining why he now walked with a stagger in his step. He had only twisted the reasoning on what caused that stagger. Leaf was obviously upset by the "close call," however.

Gary let out a long breath and rubbed his temple, deciding what he should do. He knew Leaf and the others would figure that he was infected at some point soon, but he still wasn't ready to tell them, especially not on the day before the contest.

"I forgot to tell you: I'm going to Nuvema Town today," he said suddenly.

"Nuvema? Why?" Leaf craned an eyebrow.

"I have a... meeting with Professor Juniper." This was the first excuse that came to mind, but it wasn't a bad one, and he managed to settle comfortably into his own fraudulence. "She's an expert in the origins of Pokémon. If the virus originated in Mew, then maybe she would know something."

Leaf considered his answer for only a moment before nodding, satisfied. She then said, "Well, say hi to Trip if you see him."

"To Trip?" he inquired.

"He's been visiting him mom there for almost a week," she answered. "She's getting worse."

Gary sank onto the edge of the bed, still facing away from her.

"I'd imagine so," he said.

---

Despite his best efforts to remain focused on the task before him, Clemont's breath gradually grew more ragged and his hands more unsteady the further the nearby conversation progressed. Of course, many of his past inventions had failed or broken down, causing some burns or shocks or messy cleanups—but never had a flaw in one of his designs condemned someone to their death, and now, he worked to pay a debt that could never be forgiven.

"Arceus, Gary," Brock groaned, sinking into a seat as a his own face sank into his hands. Gary, the unnatural hues of his eyes obvious under the lighting, looked down at him with contempt.

"Don't moan like you're the victim," Gary told him, irritated. His mood had noticeably soured alongside his worsening condition.

"I don't want to be complicit in this anymore," Brock argued back. "You said you would stop hiding it when the signs became obvious. Well, look in a mirror—the signs are obvious."

"Believe me, I've seen myself." Gary's hand rested on the counter to support himself. "I'm not thrilled doing this either."

"Then why—"

"—Because there are people depending on me!" Gary broke out with a strange, bitter laugh. "I'm not the only person whose life is at stake. There are other people who've been infected, and they have families and friends, and they're sweating prayers at their bedsides every night that the G-Men are going to find a treatment. Trip is one of those people, and—there are others, too, people like Iris who are being crushed with guilt because they're helpless to do anything, and they've staked their faith into me—"

Clemont dropped his screwdriver and uttered a panicked "sorry" several times over. He fumbled with the tool, then cast his eyes toward the ground, ashamed. Gary and Brock stared at him silently for a long moment. The anger of the moment had dissipated.

"... And then there's Leaf," Gary continued on. "Leaf is a buoy. She is the buoy. Iris and Paul are sinking, and she's fighting to keep them afloat. She has people like Cilan and Cynthia and Wallace to help her, but if she pops, they'll drown."

"And you think you—" Brock started.

"I don't think. I know," Gary cut him off. "That's why Leaf can't know. And even when she does know, she has to believe I'm going to be okay. Leaf might not be the leader for much longer, but she is now."

Clemont kept his head low as he continued to work on his repairs. Brock kept his gaze locked on Gary's but he eventually resigned with a sigh.

They heard the doors open, and they half-expected to see either Gary's grandfather or Bill, but instead, in came Misty. Gary turned away and fumbled with a pair of sunglasses, hastily putting them on. She approached with her hands were resting comfortably in the pockets of her jeans and her Heart Scale swinging from her neck. A Zigzagoon, which had spent the past ten minutes growling at everything and nothing in particular, silenced and drew into himself when she passed by him.

"Hey," she greeted. "Just wanted to check in. How are things going?"

"Same old, same old," Brock answered. His voice didn't break. Gary was still turned away. Clemont didn't lift his head. Misty raised an eyebrow.

"Gary, why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?" she asked dryly.

"Hey, I practically live in this place now," he sassed her. "The fluorescent lighting can get a little harsh."

Misty scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said. She then cast her gaze toward Clemont. "Serena was looking for you. We're making the trip to Nimbasa Town soon, to help the CIU set up for tomorrow. Are you interested in coming along?"

"Tell her thanks for the offer, but I really have things I need to do here," Clemont answered with a nervous smile. "I'll watch you guys compete on television tomorrow."

"Right." Misty looked back toward Gary and Brock. "Are either of you going to Nimbasa Town?"

"No." Brock shook his head.

"Not to Nimbasa Town, but I am headed to Nuvema Town," Gary replied.

"Nuvema? Are you going to see Trip's mom?" Misty asked.

"No, this is unrelated business," Gary answered. "I'm going to see Professor Juniper."

"How are you getting there? You've got a bad leg," Misty pointed out.

"I'm still driving," Gary said coolly. "My left leg is the one that's hurt, not my right. I'll be okay."

"Just be careful, all right?" Misty urged him; she had suddenly adopted a more serious tone. "You know Leaf would be destroyed if anything happened to you."

Clemont swallowed; his hand was shaking again. Brock had lowered his eyes, now unable to look anyone in the face. Gary, however, only nodded. His expression remained firm, disaffected by the same irony that had wretched his companions.

"I know," he said.

---

Leaf sat alone on the sofa in Iris's office. Her hand, shaking with an anger she concealed in her plain expression, held the cover of a magazine, and she was half-ready to tear the pages out and in half in a fury, the flames of which would be doused by the embittered tears that would inevitably come.

She had tried so hard.

Before her emotions could tear her open, however, the door opened, and there stood Cynthia. Leaf stiffly laid the publication face-down and turned to look at the former Sinnoh Champion.

"Leaf," Cynthia began, her smooth voice carrying hints of jagged urgency, "there's something I want to speak with you about."

"Yeah." Leaf rose to her feet; she already suspected what Cynthia wanted to say. Yet, Cynthia paused long enough to glance around the room.

"Is Gary here?" she asked.

"... No?" Leaf was estranged by the question. "He left for Nuvema Town early this morning to meet with Professor Juniper. I woke up, and he was already gone." Cynthia appeared unusually disappointed upon this revelation.

"I see," she mused.

"What about Gary?" Leaf asked. Her patience was thinning, and her personal confusion over the matter did not help.

"I thought this might be important for him to hear, too," Cynthia admitted, and Leaf realized that whatever Cynthia wanted to discuss, it wasn't what Leaf thought. "You see, Steven is actually flying into Nimbasa City today with Emily. I hope you don't mind, but I shared a copy of Brandon's translation with him. I thought it sounded similar to—and well, Steven's been studying it for several years now, so I wanted his opinion, and he agrees with me."

"Similar to what?" Leaf pressed.

"Mega Evolution," Cynthia answered. "He and I believe what is being described in the tablet is Mega Evolution."

Leaf stared but said nothing. Yet, there was an agitated look in her eyes, the meaning of which Cynthia couldn't decipher. Still, it was an expression with which Cynthia was familiar; she had seen Lance wear it many times, and it remained as unreadable then as it did now.

"Do you—?" Cynthia started, guessing that perhaps Leaf was ignorant to what she was saying.

"—I know what Mega Evolution is." Leaf held up her wrist, which donned a silver bracelet with a charm—the female gender symbol—hanging from it. Encircled in the metallic head of the charm was a key stone, so small that Cynthia had failed to notice its presence in past encounters. "Both Paul and I do. It struck us as being similar to the virus."

"The emphasis on the relationship between Pokémon and humans, though—" Cynthia insisted, but she was cut off when the door opened once again and in came Iris. The Unova Champion stopped and hesitated when she saw the two other woman standing there.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," Iris apologized.

"It's all right," Leaf mumbled. "What's going on?"

"Is Gary here?" Iris inquired.

"Why is Gary so popular today?" Leaf asked, exasperated. "No. He's in Nuvema Town." She then redirected her attention to Cynthia and picked up the conversation once again. "Look, I'm not trying to dismiss you or Steven. Please grant me this lead, though. Please let us pursue it. We need something to pursue."

Cynthia stood silent, and Iris did a double-take between both her and Leaf, now confused. Leaf sank to the sofa again with a sigh and continued, "There is something you both ought to see, though."

"See what?" Iris asked, and Leaf picked up the magazine and held it out to them.

July 16th, 2009. Late Morning. Nimbasa Town.

"No, no," Serena tutted, shaking her head as she pressed Ash out of the way. "If you fold shirts like that, they'll get all wrinkled, and no one will want to buy them..." Ash stared in confusion as Serena, her eyebrows lowered with focus, refolded the entire stack of shirts Ash had compiled himself. She then stepped away with a proud smile, and he pouted.

"I thought they looked fine," he grumbled.

"They were a mess," Misty said point-blank as she finished folding her own stack.

"They were not," Ash protested.

"It looked like a pile of laundry," Bonnie said with a giggle, and Ash glowered at her.

"You're not exactly known for organization, Ash," Ritchie added teasingly. Silver, ignoring the present conversation, pulled out the final couple of shirts in the last box and folded them up without comment.

"Oh, come on," Ash said, exasperated.

"It's no big deal," Serena assured him with a wave of her hands. "I just work with clothes a lot, so I now how to properly fold them. ... Anyway, I think we've unpacked all the merchandise for this booth, so we should find Kelly."

"Yeah..." Ash agreed. He held out his arm to Pikachu, who was seated next to some tank tops, and let him climb up to his shoulder. "Maybe I should do something other than folding shirts, though..."

"A big, strong guy like you can be our hard labor, moving boxes," Bonnie suggested, flexing her muscles for emphasis. She kissed them and grinned, and Serena started laughing.

They found Kelly speaking with Brianna down the hallway of the stadium, but as soon as she noticed them approaching, she sent Brianna away and turned to the group with a smile. "Everything done?" she asked them.

"Yup!" Bonnie said, bounding up to her with a grin. "All set and ready for tomorrow."

"Is there anything else we can help you with?" Ritchie inquired.

"I'm actually good for now..." Kelly trailed off. She tapped her finger against her chin, thinking, until realization lit her eyes. "But! I know Dawn needed help with something earlier."

"Oh, yeah!" Ash nodded eagerly. "We'd love to help Dawn."

"I'll give her a call then." Kelly pulled out her two-way radio and, pressing the button on the front, said, "Hey, Dawn? I have some extra hands. Do you still need help?"

They waited only a brief moment before they heard her voice chime in with a reply, "I do! Thank you. Send them to Entrance B on the first floor."

"Will do," Kelly spoke into the receiver. She then turned toward the group. "You heard her—Entrance B on the first floor."

"Thank you, Kelly," Misty said.

"No, thank you," Kelly corrected. "You've been a big help. I'm looking forward to seeing you on the stage tomorrow." Misty let out an abashed laugh and thanked her once more before departing.

Downstairs, the group made it way past several entrances—F first, then D, then C—until they finally made it toward B, and Ash perked up when he saw Dawn and Drew together, helping each other pull in a cart of folding tables.

"Hey! Dawn, Drew!" Ash called out to them, waving. The pair stopped what they were doing and looked toward the group. Dawn quickly broke into a grin upon realizing who they were.

"Oh, hi guys!" she greeted cheerfully, approaching. "I didn't realize you were the 'extra hands.'"

"Yeah, yeah!" Ash said, equally enthused. "We've been for a little while now, just helping here and there. So, whaddaya need?"

"We're setting up health checkpoints at every entrance," Drew explained, joining the group with folded arms. "Every Pokémon being entered into the contest will be evaluated by a health professional checking for signs of the virus. I doubt we'll actually see any Pokémon with the virus, but it's a precaution that will put entrants and audience members at ease."

"That's really smart," Ritchie commended. "That way, it's more difficult for people to complain that you're being reckless by holding the contest."

"People are going to complain anyway," Drew dismissed before heading back to the cart. Dawn glowered at him before returning her attention to the main group.

"Don't mind him," she assured them. "He's been moody all morning. Anyway..."

Silver tuned out the rest of her words. Instead, he focused his gaze on the scene unfolding in the background: Zoey was moving brusquely up the opposite end of the hallway with Drew's name on her lips. Drew looked at her curiously, and Zoey, with an apprehensive expression, showed Drew something on her phone. Drew furrowed his eyebrows, visibly bothered by whatever she was sharing. They conspired together in low voices, occasionally casting glances toward Dawn, and that was when Silver realized trouble was afoot.

"... So if we could just get these tables set up, it would—" Dawn went out, but she failed to finish her thought as Drew's hand fell upon her shoulder. She looked back at him, confused, and Ash and the others shared the same expression.

"Dawn," he started seriously, "I need to talk to you."

July 16th, 2009. Late Morning. Opelucid City.

Caitlin's finger gently touched the screen of her tablet, scrolling several paragraphs further down the webpage. She wore a troubled expression, and her concerns only grew in size the further she delved into the story. Occasionally, she would cast glances toward the door of her suite, knowing it was only a matter of time before he came—she sensed he would—and sure enough, in time, there came a knock at the door.

"Come in," Caitlin said tacitly. The door flew open, and Paul stormed in, and he looked at her with wild, angry eyes.

"How did it get out?" he demanded, as if she were holding the informer hostage in her closet.

Caitlin initially did not speak, nor did she look up at him. Rather, she took the time to gently power down the screen of her tablet and lay it on the coffee table before her. Then, leaning back into her chair and folding one leg over the other, she said, "You know, it is interesting. Of all my patients, I would have believed you would be the last to ever seek me out on my personal time."

Paul stared at her incredulously, agitated that she would avoid his question. He then lifted a magazine in his hands and asked, "Did you see this?"

Caitlin glanced at the cover. It was a copy of the most-recent Coordinator's Weekly, which featured a picture of Paul and Dawn—one taken months earlier, when they were still together, walking through the streets of Hearthome City—with a jagged, yellow graphic running between them and the headline, "Dawn And Paul Officially OVER." A sidebar on the same page read, "A source tells CW that the two split because of his 'increasingly irrational, suicidal' behavior."

"I did," Caitlin said quietly.

"How did it get out?" Paul repeated, his voice still shaking with fury.

"I don't know." Caitlin shook her head. Her response, simple and uninformative as it was, dismantled his antagonism, and he sank to a nearby chair, defeated.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked.

"I am unfortunately not a PR consultant," Caitlin said plainly. "You would be better suited to speak with Leaf."

"I don't want to talk to Leaf," Paul growled.

"Why me, then?" Caitlin inquired.

"I'm supposed to talk to you," Paul said, as though it were obvious.

"And not to your friends? I am only your therapist. I am invested in your wellbeing, but your friends are invested in your life." Paul said nothing in response to this, and Caitlin leaned toward him, adding, "I'll give you same advice I've tried to give every time we've met: You should speak with Dawn. I'm not suggesting you need to reignite the relationship, but I believe you may have both left some things unsaid—especially with Torterra. And now, with this—" She touched the screen on her tablet, reactivating it to reveal she had been reading the Coordinator's Weekly story. "—I think you have more reason than ever."

Paul was again silent—but this silence was short-lived, as the ring of his cell phone cut through the air. He pulled the device out of his back pocket and placed it on the table, staring at it.

"Who's calling?" Caitlin asked.

"Leaf, again," Paul answered.

"She only cares," Caitlin reminded him.

Paul reached for the phone, appearing as though he would answer. Yet, he hesitated, and ultimately turned the device off.

"... I know she does," he said.

---

Cilan's phone went off mere minutes after class had ended, before either he or Burgundy could finish packing up to leave. He, with tired eyes that told of a long night, swiped his device up and cursorily checked the caller ID before answering.

"Hello, Iris?" he started. "Is something wrong?"

Burgundy, still only half-finished organizing her papers, slowly lifted her gaze toward him. She stood across the aisle from him, a respectable distance. She found it equally interesting and unfortunate that any time Iris called, Cilan immediately assumed she had bad news to deliver. The sad part of his supposition, though, was that he was usually right.

Cilan pressed his lips together, visibly unsettled as he listened attentively to whatever his wife had to say, and Burgundy couldn't help but watch with a careful eye. She purposefully slowed down her packing so she could listen in, too.

"No, no. This is the first I've heard of it," Cilan eventually replied. His tone was serious though dispirited. "Ah, so that was why Caitlin was around..." Realization briefly lit his eyes, but they soon dulled again as Iris continued to speak. Later, he glanced at the clock, then interrupted her, saying, "I'm sorry, dear; I need to put you on speaker. The next professor is going to be here soon, and I need to finish putting away my books."

"Is anyone else there?" Iris asked cautiously, her bleary voice weakly patching through on Cilan's phone after he laid it on the table.

"Just Burgundy," Cilan answered.

"Oh. Okay then." Burgundy blinked and appeared wary; she couldn't tell whether Iris was being dismissive or trusting. Iris continued, "Leaf and I are really at a loss of what to do. We're supposed to leave for Nimbasa Town as soon as Chili and Cress get here, and Paul's nowhere to be found. Leaf went to his apartment, and he wasn't there. Agent Gray hasn't seen him either."

"Have you tried calling him?" Cilan suggested. "He might be more receptive to speaking with you than Leaf. Although, truly, if it's as bad as you're making it sound, have you considered that perhaps he doesn't want to go to Nimbasa Town? The contest will be highly publicized, and I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to stay away from where cameras linger."

"... That's true," Iris conceded. "But, if that's what he wants, can't he at least tell us that? We're really worried."

"You call him and see where that takes you," Cilan reiterated his suggestion.

"Okay, I will. Thanks."

"I'll be home soon," Cilan told her. He then added, with feeling, "I love you." He meant it—he really did—but he had to remind himself to say it. Grief was all-consuming and could dull sweeter affections, but he would not lose sight of them, and he wouldn't let Iris either.

"I love you, too."

He ended the call, and Burgundy waited in silence for a moment, wanting to time her question. Nevertheless, she still managed to hit an off-beat when she asked, "What's going on?"

Cilan didn't seem to mind. Still, he sighed and answered, "Coordinator's Weekly ran a story about Paul and Dawn today, about how they've broken up, allegedly because of 'suicidal' tendencies."

"Excuse me?" Burgundy drew back in surprise.

"I don't know much beyond that. I haven't read the story, and I don't plan to," Cilan said. This response gave Burgundy pause—it caught her off guard, him saying he wouldn't read it. She suddenly decided she wouldn't either. He continued, "And, well, it might have a ring of truth to it. We did know Dawn and Paul were broken up, but..." He shook his head. "Iris was vaguely aware he was seeing a therapist. I wasn't, but I suppose that's been happening for a little while now."

Burgundy said nothing to this; she didn't know what to say. Cilan put away his last folders and then said, "I must be off. My brothers will be in the area soon."

"Mm," Burgundy hummed, again having nothing to say.

"Will you be going to Nimbasa Town, too?" Cilan asked her.

"I don't know." Burgundy shrugged, though she did know. Georgia was going to compete, and she would get upset if Burgundy didn't at least go to watch her. Cilan, she decided, didn't need to know this. Upon this thought, however, it occurred to Burgundy that there were plenty of things Cilan had shared with her that she didn't need to know.

Cilan frowned but said, "Well, if I don't see you this weekend, then I'll talk to you on Tueisday."

He left, and Burgundy stewed in her own hypocrisy for a while before putting away her final items, too, and leaving.

July 16th, 2009. Afternoon. Nuvema Town.

"Thank you for meeting with me on such late notice, Professor Juniper," Gary said, easing himself into a chair across from the esteemed researcher. She had inquired of his injury, but he had already placated her with his twisted-ankle story, so she didn't press the issue. She, however, had not inquired why he was wearing sunglasses indoors, but Gary assumed she was too polite to bring it up.

"It's a pleasure, Gary," Aurea replied with a smile. "I've known your grandfather for some time. I've always seen as sort of a mentor, so it's nice to finally meet you, too. He raves about you any time I see him."

Gary nodded slowly, and he felt his stomach knot. His grandfather was also unaware Gary had become infected, and the thought of him learning the truth made Gary feel ill in a way the thought of Leaf knowing didn't. Leaf would be wretchedly angry—at him, at herself, at whoever had laid out their fate—when she found out; the elder Oak would be heart-crushed.

"Yeah, he likes to run his mouth about me," Gary said with a forced grin. Aurea's blonde assistant—Bianca, Gary remembered—tottered into the room with a bright smile and a tray with tea.

"Here!" she said enthusiastically, dropping the tray onto the table with a clatter. Luckily, nothing spilled. "I brought you two something to drink, just in case."

"Thank you, Bianca," Aurea said tiredly, used to her behavior.

Gary needed a further moment to recover, then shook his head, saying, "Yeah, thank you." He paused, observing her for a moment. "You—you're Barry's cousin, right?"

"That's me!" She beamed. "I know about you, too. I mostly know about you with you being the grandson of Professor Oak and all, but Barry has also talked about you and the others before. He always says nice things."

"He's a handful, but he's a nice guy," Gary conceded. Bianca laughed cheerfully and agreed before hurrying off to attend to her other chores. Gary once again looked toward Aurea, who moved her tea cup off the tray to take a sip.

"She's a little scatter-brained but a brilliant young researcher in her own right," Aurea said after a moment.

"She definitely falls in line with what you would expect from the family," Gary offered.

"Anyway," Aurea changed the subject, "what was it you wanted to speak with me about? I know you, your grandfather, and Bill must be running yourselves into the ground studying that virus... Bianca and I have both read your thesis, and it's fascinating but terrifying, given what's been happening in Unova."

"Mhm," Gary mumbled in agreement. "We..." He paused and closed his eyes, considering how he should begin. Although this meeting was a spur-of-the-moment escape from Opelucid City, he did genuinely have questions for her but was unsure how to approach the topic. "We found a tablet depicting Mew a little more than a week ago. Brandon Blair, the Kanto Frontier Brain, said it was about 4,000 years old, and he translated the text for us."

Aurea's interest was immediately piqued, and Gary reached into his bag to pull out a copy of the translation. He slid it toward her, and she gave him a nod of thanks before letting her eyes fall to the text. She observed the picture for a while, then read the translated words carefully, poring over their meaning.

"So... ?" Gary started after a while, watching her eyes fall away.

"It is a compelling find," Aurea mused, but she added no further comment.

"You've dedicated years of research to the origins of Pokémon," Gary went on, wanting to pull more out of her. "So I'm sure you know a lot about Mew, right?"

"I know quite a bit," Aurea admitted.

"We think what's described in the translation sounds similar to the virus," Gary continued. "Have you ever seen or heard of anything like this in your research? We think Mew might be the original source of the virus, and we have some evidence to back that up beyond this tablet. Team Rocket, years ago, created a clone of Mew, and we managed to get a blood sample, and he tested positive for the virus."

"I know about Mewtwo," Aurea said tacitly, and Gary nodded, deciding not to pursue the details why; he was certain his grandfather or some other researcher in the know had mentioned him to her. Aurea then addressed his question, saying, "Mew is credited with nearly every uncertain scientific phenomenon or question, and she has been for as long as humans have revered her, which is always. Before we knew the sun formed as part of the collapse of a giant molecular cloud 4 billion years ago, most believed Mew was the creator of the sun."

Gary pressed his lip together, dissatisfied with the direction of her answer. Then, she added, "However..." Gary perked up again, and Aurea smiled. "That isn't to say Mew isn't a major component in the creation of Pokémon and possibly humanity. Even the most esteemed Pokémon researchers acknowledge Mew as enormously important in the study of Pokémon. Your own grandfather believes Mew may have set the framework of relationships between humans and Pokémon, while Professor Sycamore of the Kalos region has previously explored whether there is some connection between Mew and Mega Evolution."

"Mega Evolution?" Gary repeated.

"Have you heard about it?" Aurea asked.

"Yeah, I have." Gary nodded. "My girlfriend owns a key stone and Mega Stone." He paused before shuffling back to the topic at hand, "So, would it be, in your professional opinion, possible that Mew might been the origin of the virus, and that she might somehow hold the answer to treating it?"

Aurea was silent for a moment, thinking. Then, touching the edge of the translation, she said, "If she is, it sounds like the answer is already here."

Before either could say anything further, a girlish scream tore through the lab, and both Professor Juniper and Gary (despite his injured foot) stood in alarm. It was Bianca's voice they had heard, before either could cry for her or run to see whether she was okay, Bianca hurried into the room with a Luvdisc flailing in her arms. She was breathless with excitement, and her red glasses were askew in messy delight.

"Look—look at this!" Bianca wailed joyfully as she held out Luvdisc.

"What is it?" Juniper was still on high alert.

"This Luvdisc! This Luvdisc I've been caring for in the lab, it grew a Heart Scale!" She was shaking. "I can't believe it—a Heart Scale!" She pressed the creature to her chest, hugging it. "You love me, don't you? You really, really love me."

July 16th, 2009. Afternoon. Opelucid City.

"Come on—one more round," Georgia encouraged, turning one of her enlarged Pokéballs around in her hand, as if to taunt her friend. "I'll even go easy on you this time. I promise."

Burgundy, however, was unenthused at the prospect of another inevitable loss and she, standing her ground, huffed, "Non. I'm done for the day." They stood on a small, barely maintained battlefield inside Burgundy's apartment complex, and they had been there for the better part of the afternoon. Burgundy was tired of being decimated by Georgia, though, and Burgundy was certain her Pokémon were, too.

Disgruntled herself, Georgia said, "If I lose for lack of practice tomorrow, I'm blaming you."

"Is it really practice if you're knocking out her team with one-hit KOs?"

Burgundy and Georgia both pricked up in surprise, and their eyes darted toward the direction from where the male voice had come. Chili Griffith pushed open the unlocked gate and approached them with his hands sliding into the pockets of his khakis.

"Maybe not, but it sure does boost my ego," Georgia answered smugly. Burgundy was less welcoming.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded with a snarl. "This place is reserved for residents and their guests. Get out."

Chili only laughed, however, and continued advancing toward them. Burgundy drew in herself, pouting as he formed a standing triangle with them.

"Cilan told me it sounded like you weren't going out to Nimbasa Town for the contest," he said, addressing Burgundy. "Why's that?"

"Wait..." Georgia started, turning toward Burgundy. "You're not coming to see me in Nimbasa Town? I thought we were staying in a hotel room together."

Burgundy was annoyed it had been brought up, and she corrected, "I don't want to got to Nimbasa Town. I never said I wasn't."

Georgia was already miffed, though, and said, "Well, geez—if you don't want to go, then don't. Don't let me ruin whatever stellar weekend plans you had going on here."

"I didn't—" Burgundy started, but Georgia cut her off.

"No, it's fine," she asserted. "Watch me on TV if you want. Don't waste the money for the room if you don't want to be there. Arceus knows you need the money anyway." A short, uncomfortable silence fell, but it was quickly filled when Georgia pulled out her phone and continued, "I wanted to see if I should pick up Trip from Nuvema Town anyway. He'll keep me company."

Before Burgundy could protest, Georgia left without another word. She close the gate behind her, and Burgundy groaned before glowering at Chili, who cringed with a sheepish smile in response.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to provoke a fight."

"What are you doing here?" Burgundy repeated her question. She sounded less angry this time—more tired. "I thought you would've been off to Nimbasa Town already with your brothers and sister-in-law."

"Oh, they've left," Chili told her.

"What?" Burgundy looked confused.

"They already left," Chili said again. "I hung back. I'm leaving soon enough, but I decided to stick around for a little bit. I told 'em I had some stuff I wanted to do."

"What stuff?" Burgundy demanded.

"Well—I wanted to see you," Chili said point blank. Burgundy narrowed her gaze suspiciously. He continued, "Cilan worries about you. It'd put him at ease if you showed up tomorrow. He thinks you hate him, and you might. You have reason to, anyway. He dwells on that kind of thing, though, and it's bad enough with Iris and... you know... so I thought I'd try to make it a little better for him."

"Oh, so you came here to convince me to go to Nimbasa Town so that Cilan won't get bent out of shape?" Burgundy rolled her eyes.

"Pretty much, yup." Chili nodded.

"Well, I would have been going to Nimbasa Town tonight, but you came, and Georgia and I got into a fight," Burgundy reminded him.

"Yeah, about that..." Chili started. "I really am sorry. I'll make it up to you—give you a little incentive, you know? There's this really great restaurant in Nimbasa Town called Ninety-Six Percent. If you show up there at 7 p.m. tonight, I'll buy you dinner."

"How is that an incentive?" Burgundy scoffed.

"Free food?" Chili offered.

Burgundy stared, considering his proposition despite her disaffected expression. A paid dinner, even a nice one, wasn't that much of an incentive, and the company might cancel the cost anyway. Nevertheless, she eventually folded her arms and shifted her weight to her left hip.

"... Maybe," she finally answered.

Chili grinned.

"We'll call it a date, then!" He saluted her and backed toward the gate, and Burgundy was already half-regretting her decision.

July 16th, 2009. Afternoon. Nimbasa Town.

"And tomorrow? ... Yeah, that makes sense."

Iris could vaguely hear Leaf speaking outside her hotel room, where they had recently arrived. The Unova Champion sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes turned toward the window, where the green, patterned curtains were drawn apart for a view of the town. Cilan was unpacking for their one-night stay, but Iris could tell his ears were also turned toward the conversation at hand.

"All right. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow night, then." There was an evident twinge of disappointment in Leaf's tone, but the call nevertheless ended.

Before Leaf could leave earshot—to return to her own room, to find Lance, whatever—Iris inclined her head toward the open door and asked, "Was that Paul or Gary?"

Leaf glanced her way, stepped half-way into the room, and answered, "Gary. He talked to Aurea Juniper, and he's heading back to Opelucid to continue working, so we won't be seeing him at the contest." She paused before adding, "I haven't heard from Paul, still."

"You talked to him, though, correct?" Cilan piped in, addressing Iris.

"Yeah." Iris nodded. "I called him. It was pretty short conversation: He just said he was fine and wanted to be left alone, and to go to Nimbasa without him."

And it was just that: Paul picked up immediately when Iris dialed him—she supposed Cilan was right when he said Paul might be more receptive to speaking with her than Leaf—and before Iris could get a single word in, he said, "I'm fine. Leave me alone. Go to Nimbasa without me." And he hung up. It was over in ten words.

Leaf said something else, but Iris wasn't listening, and Leaf soon left. Iris turned back toward the window. Cress came in, and he and Cilan struck up a chat—something about Chili or Burgundy; Iris wasn't paying attention. She could see the stadium from the window. Drew and the others, she was sure, were hard at work right then.

She drew in a long breath. She hoped Leaf and Drew's plan worked.

"Iris? Iris!"

The call became clear, and Iris snapped her head toward Cilan and Cress. The latter had been repeating her name, but she had been so withdrawn that she had failed to notice up until then.

"Yeah?" she said.

"Did you ever end up talking to Diantha?" Cress asked her.

"I did, actually," Iris answered. "Thank you—and give Siebold my thanks, too."

"I will." Cress nodded. "What did you end up talking about?"

Cilan had not asked her this question yet, but with the way his green eyes immediately locked onto her, Iris could tell he had been wanting to know the answer for a while. Cress was only politely curious. Still, Iris decided she had remained mute for long enough, and so she only had some hesitation when she replied, "Mega Evolution."

"Mega Evolution?" Cilan inquired, raising his eyebrows. It was not the response he expected.

"Yeah—" Iris fumbled to show her pendant. "Diantha gave me a key stone when I was inaugurated."

"Did she give you a Mega Stone, too?" Cress asked.

"No, actually," Iris admitted. "That's what I called her about. She supposedly gave both Paul and Leaf a key and Mega Stone when they were inaugurated, but no Mega Stone for me."

"I don't believe you have a Pokémon that can Mega Evolve," Cilan remarked.

"She would disagree," Iris said.

"And so would I."

Surprise crossed the occupants' expressions at the familiar sound, and all three turned their heads toward the doorway. Sure enough, there stood the former Hoenn Champion, Steven Stone, with Cynthia only a foot behind him. Emily was tightly grasping her mother's hand, happy to be reunited after weeks apart.

"Steven!" Iris rose to her feet, her lips spreading into a smile.

"Hello, Ms. Ajagara," Steven replied germanely. "It's a pleasure to see you."

"I didn't know you were coming," Iris confessed.

"That's my fault—" Cynthia briefly interjected. "—I did tell Leaf this morning that he and Emily were coming, but then we found out about the issue with Paul, and it slipped my mind that I should tell you, too."

"Oh, I see," Iris mused, unoffended. She looked toward Steven once again and asked, "So I'm guessing you came out here to see Cynthia judge?"

"Partly," Steven answered. "I'll admit a large motivating factor, though, was Brandon's translation. When I read it for the first time, I immediately thought—"

"—That it sounded like Mega Evolution?" Iris finished for him.

"Ah, so we're on the same page, then." Steven sounded pleasantly surprised, and Cynthia appeared similarly gratified.

"Yeah..." Iris gestured for the family to come inside and sit, supposing they would delve deeper into the topic.

"You think the translation alludes to Mega Evolution?" This revelation threw Cilan for a loop, having been under the impression she also believed it matched up with the virus.

"Well..." Iris was still unsure. "Serena brought it up to me, and I wanted to look into it further. That's... really why I wanted to talk to Diantha."

"And she disagrees that your Pokémon can't Mega Evolve, despite the lack of a stone?" Cress asked.

"She had a story," Iris started vaguely, not wanting to repeat the entire thing, "about a Pokémon of hers that's Mega Evolved without a stone. She thinks it's all dependant on the relationship between the trainer and the Pokémon, not so much the stone."

"The... relationship?" Cilan was both intrigued and baffled.

"Research shows Mega Evolution can only occur when there is a close bond between a human and a Pokémon," Steven elaborated, sitting in a chair with Iris's invitation. "The key stone and Mega Stone do play a role—they are a trigger, a connecting factor that enables the change—but there are stories of it happening without the stones." He paused before adding, "There are still many unanswered questions."

"What are key stones and Mega Stones made of?" Iris asked him, knowing he would have the answer.

"Some say meteorites, others say they're evolution stones irradiated by the Legendary Kalosian Pokémon Yvetal and Xerneas," Steven explained. He smiled, however, before adding, "Romantic tales, in my opinion. The truth is, Mega Stones and key stones are produced from a rare ore known as Cieite. They're pink crystals created by the Pokémon, Diancie. The largest field of them is found in Ambrette Town, Kalos, though there are crops of them in other locations. There are other components in the key and Mega Stones that are sold in stores, but the Cieite is the fundamental unit. You see, Cieite holds a large concentration of energy from Diancie, and some researchers theorize that's what boosts the power of a Mega Evolved Pokémon."

"But I thought the stones weren't necessary...?" Cilan gently pressed.

"Like I said, there are many unanswered questions," Steven said.

"And here's another one," Iris started, "if Diancie is the one who's credited with the stones, then why does the tablet mention Mew?"

"Perhaps this is conjecture," Cynthia broke in, "but if we acknowledge Mew as the creator of Pokémon, then she theoretically did create Diancie. ... Or perhaps it's another case of unexplained phenomena, by default, being attributed to Mew."

"That does happen quite often," Cress offered.

"Mewtwo did test positive for the virus, though," Cilan reminded them. "If what you say is true, Steven, then the tablet being connected to Mega Evolution is plausible. Yet, I think there's an equal argument that the tablet is connected to the virus."

"Have we considered that it's connected to both?" Steven suggested suddenly, and his question was met with silence.

---

Kenny, his hair slightly mussed from a long day of work and his brow creased with a deep line of worry, was alone in the stadium press box, leaning back in one of the wheeled chairs with his feet up on the table. Before him, he had a stack of place cards he needed to—well, place—but instead, he was on his phone. He had heard about the article (everyone had within one hour) but had not been able to snag a chance to read it, especially since he did not want Dawn to catch him peeking.

The door swung open, and Kenny jumped before fumbling to straighten himself up and hide his phone. Zoey raised an eyebrow as Kenny made a grab for the place cards, apparently wanting to look busy.

"Hey," she started, electing to ignore his movement. "How close are you to being done?"

"Pretty close," Kenny answered, a little quickly.

"How long?" Zoey asked.

"Maybe a half-hour," Kenny mumbled.

"Good."

"Good?" Kenny gave her an odd look.

"I need you to do me a favor," Zoey said, leaning toward him over the table. "I'm going back to Opelucid right now. When you finish work, I want you to collect Dawn and follow me."

Kenny blinked.

"In a half-hour?" he inquired confusedly, unclear why she wanted him to leave later than him.

Yet, Zoey nodded and said, "That's all the time I'll need."

July 16th, 2009. Early Evening. Nuvema Town.

Trip was half-asleep on a sofa within his childhood home when he hazily heard the front door open—he had left it unlocked on purpose—but he couldn't bring himself to get up, so he waited until Georgia headed inside and gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder to wake him up. He groaned and turned an eye toward her, seeing her plain expression and the hand on her hip.

"You know, I thought you would be at the hospital," she remarked.

"I am at the hospital a lot." Trip sat up and yawned. "But she's asleep. I asked the doctor to increase her morphine dosage, so she's unconscious half the time."

His comment affected Georgia, and she drew back, now a little more cautious. He wasn't offended, though; just tired.

"I see," she said. "... Well, do you still want to go to the contest?"

"Yeah..." Trip scooped up his packed bag and slung it over his shoulder. She nodded and started to head out, but Trip, now more awake, briefly grasped her upper arm to stop her.

"Hey," he started, "thanks." When she stared, he added, "For coming by."

Now understanding, Georgia cracked a smile.

"Sure thing."

July 16th, 2009. Evening. Nimbasa Town.

Twenty minutes had passed since the time Chili and Burgundy (well, mostly Chili) had agreed to meet, and other patrons in the admittedly swanky establishment were starting to cast him sympathetic glances. Chili wasn't bothered, though—not yet, at least. He was content to enjoy the glass of water he ordered (and he'd ordered an extra one just in case she decided to show), and if time stretched too long, he'd order himself food and take comfort in saving $20 by not paying for a date's meal, too.

Yet, the next time his gaze rose, he saw her—hair curled, wearing a white dress—standing near the entrance, and the hostess directed her toward his table. His lips spread into a thin smirk as she approached.

"I knew you'd come," he said smugly as she sat across from him.

"I can leave," Burgundy told him, already sliding to the edge of her seat, as if to threaten she would happily go right then.

"Aw, but then you'd miss out on excellent company and an excellent meal," Chili taunted her.

"You think too highly of yourself," Burgundy grumbled, settling down again and picking up her menu.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," Chili remarked.

"Ha, funny," Burgundy said dryly. She almost scoffed and told him she didn't think highly of herself at all, but she held her tongue. The last thing she wanted was to get emotionally mushy, or even remotely personal, with Chili Griffith on a date. 'Not a date,' Burgundy then suddenly, silently, reminded herself. She wasn't going to let it turn into one.

A brief spell of silence followed, and it wasn't long before Chili clicked his tongue and started, "So—"

"—Excuse me, I'm trying to read the menu," she cut him off. He was unperturbed.

"The pasta here is pretty good," he suggested. Burgundy had been looking at the pasta menu, at the Shrimp Scampi dish in particular, but she immediately darted her eyes toward a different section as soon as he said that. The silence resumed until—

"Good evening." A waiter approached the table. He was wearing a red bowtie, which annoyed Burgundy for some reason. "Welcome to Ninety-Six Percent. Are you ready to place your order?"

"Yes. The Shrimp Scampi, please," Chili told him politely. He then asked, "Could you bring us a drink menu, though? We're both going to need it."

"Certainly." The waiter nodded then looked toward Burgundy, who was staring at Chili, struck (with an undertone of irritation) that he had ordered the one thing she had wanted but was too prideful to ask for.

"The Chicken Marsala," Burgundy said, offering up her second choice as well as her menu. "Thank you."

Once the waiter was gone, Chili tried to strike up a conversation again.

"So you entering the contest tomorrow?" he asked.

"Maybe," Burgundy answered plainly. "Probably not."

"I'm entering," Chili informed her.

"Good for you," Burgundy said. "Can't wait to see Georgia or some other coordinator wipe the floor with you."

"Oh ye of little faith." Chili smiled. "I plan to at least make it to the second round of battles. Besides, I thought you and Georgia were fighting? It's not like you have much room to speak anyway if you're not entering."

"Georgia and I will make up tonight when I check into the hotel room we reserved and she's forced to talk to me," Burgundy said bluntly. "The reason I'm not entering is because I prefer not to embarrass myself."

"Now that's sad," Chili mused. "Failing, I can respect. Not trying at all, though? I bet you've told your students they can do anything as long as they try. What would they say if they heard you just now? What would—?"

"—Don't go there," Burgundy warned, hissing through gritted teeth.

"All right," Chili agreed, backing down. "That crossed a line. Sorry." Burgundy frowned and fell back in her seat. Chili wetted his lips before continuing, "Point still stands, though. You're in a funk. A bad funk, and I get why you're there, with the PCA on your ass and Karina's loss on your mind. You can't shut down, though."

"I'm not shutting down," Burgundy protested. "I'm just exhausted. You would be, too. It doesn't help that your brother is an idiot and is gearing up to make what he thinks is a 'noble' sacrifice that has no chance in working and will make me feel worse about everything."

Chili's face twisted with confusion.

"Noble sacrifice?" he repeated.

"Never mind," Burgundy mumbled. She then sighed, adding, "Look, I did what you wanted me to do. I came to Nimbasa Town so Cilan wouldn't beat himself up or whatever. What else do you want out of me?"

"Is it too ambitious for me to try to make two people happy?" Chili asked, shrugging off her earlier remarks. When she stared, he appended, "Cilan's fine. Relatively fine. Or, at least, he's going to be fine. Your wellbeing, on the other hand, is a little more questionable."

"Since when do you care?" Burgundy grumbled. The waiter came by again and dropped off the drink menus Chili had requested.

"Maybe I'm just a good guy," Chili said wryly. The irony almost made Burgundy laugh.

"If I had a dime for every time I heard that..." she started.

"You'd have less than a dollar, and I can tell, because you're in serious need of getting laid," Chili said before she could finish her thought.

"Oh, great. So you want to sleep with me?" Burgundy rolled her eyes.

She was surprised when Chili instantly grinned and a sly look passed through his eyes.

"Well, at least let me buy you dinner first," he teased her.

The implications—and Burgundy hated herself for this—caused heat to stretch from her core, extending to northern and southern ends of her person. She stuck the drink menu in front of her reddening face and muttered a few choice words. Chili was right. They were both going to need a couple—maybe even more—drinks.

July 16th, 2009. Evening. Outside Opelucid City.

The highway road wound for miles ahead. The darkness of evening had fallen, and Kenny had only the headlights on his car to guide him. Dawn sat beside him in the passenger seat, with the window partially rolled down and her hand cupping her chin. They hadn't said much on their trip. The silence, under different circumstances, might have been reassuring, but it only reminded Kenny of things that weren't there.

"So why did Drew want us to go to Opelucid again?" Dawn asked suddenly, as if she had forgotten. She had been distant all day, and she knew it, too.

"There were just some things he wanted us to pick up from the office," Kenny lied. That was what Zoey had said to tell her. Kenny was unclear whether Drew was in on the plan or not, but if he wasn't, he wouldn't care as long as he knew Zoey was the architect behind it. Zoey's ideas usually worked out; Kenny's or Barry's usually ended with someone getting hurt.

"Mm," Dawn hummed, but she said nothing further.

Kenny briefly shifted his eyes toward her then to his phone in the center tray of the car. No new messages. Zoey was supposed to text him when she had the OK. Kenny had purposefully taken a long route, just to give her more time.

"So, uh..." Kenny cleared his throat. "How are you today after, you know, everything...?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Dawn told him. Kenny counted the seconds in his mind, however, until she started, "It's just..." Kenny kept an expectant eye on her as she pressed her hand to her face. "... I never wanted this to happen. I had started to suspect something was going on while we were dating, and I tried to push him into getting help, but we broke up and then after Torterra..." She paused and dragged her hand down. She was rambling. "It's because I'm a coordinator that they ran that story."

"He's famous, too," Kenny reminded her, "and there are other trashy publications."

"But we have the leak," Dawn said bitterly. Kenny glanced at her with surprise, and she added, "I didn't think about it until today, but we have a leak somewhere. And Leaf knows it. That's why she shut Drew out for a while."

"What else would—?" Kenny started, but Dawn already anticipated his question.

"—Iris," she answered, "when everyone thought she was poisoned."

Kenny snapped his mouth shut. Dawn decided she was done talking, and she turned her face toward the window again. Kenny crossed the line into Opelucid City.

July 16th, 2009. Evening. Nimbasa Town.

"Wait here." Georgia told Trip this brusquely after she had parked the car near the hotel lobby, and, after unbuckling her seatbelt, she slid outside the car door and headed inside. The attendant glanced up at Georgia over thin, gold-framed glasses as she entered before straightening up.

"Hello, I'm here to check into a room I reserved earlier," Georgia told her.

"Name?" the attendant inquired politely, moving to her computer.

"Hamilton," Georgia answered. "Georgia Hamilton."

The attendant nodded and typed in her name. She then paused, squinted at the screen, and looked back at Georgia with a moderately suspicious glance.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It looks like another person on the reservation already checked in today."

"Burgundy checked in?" Georgia's brow shot up.

"Myers? Yes," the attendant confirmed, nodding. Georgia frowned, disgruntled by this development when she had Trip waiting for her in the car.

"O-kay..." Georgia started, annoyed. "Sorry for the misunderstanding. I'll... give her a call." She promptly drew away from the desk and reached for the cell phone in her back pocket. She dialed Burgundy's number and slung her weight to her left hip, waiting as the phone rang.

It went to voicemail. Georgia scowled and dialed her number a second time. Again, it went to voicemail.

"This bitch," Georgia muttered bitterly. The attendant was still watching her, and Georgia gave up, stalking back outside. Trip straightened up when he noticed that she was coming, and that she was coming in mad. She flung open the car door, slid inside, then slammed the door shut again.

"Something wrong?" Trip asked.

"The hotel made a mistake," Georgia lied, deciding she didn't want to explain. "They accidentally double-booked my room."

"You're kidding." Trip looked at her incredulously. "They're giving you another room, though, right?"

"Nope." Georgia stuck her keys back into the ignition. "Everything's filled." She then pointed to the sign hanging outside the window—"No Vacancies"—for emphasis.

"A refund, at least?" Trip inquired.

"Uh-huh," Georgia mumbled.

"Well, there's got to be another place we can find," Trip offered. "Maybe the Pokémon Center?"

"The night before a huge contest, the first in Unova?" Georgia scoffed as she started the car. "I don't think so."

"It's worth trying," Trip defended. Georgia ignored him as she shifted the car into drive and pressed on the accelerator. Trip watched her with confusion as she moved out of the parking lot and onto the main road but promptly turned onto an alleyway backend to the hotel. She found an open space among several employees' vehicles and shut off the engine again.

"I have blankets back here," Georgia said, pointing toward the back row of passenger seats. "Hope you don't mind sleeping in cars."

"That's illegal," Trip said dryly.

"Who's gonna stop us?" Georgia said, opening the door again and sliding out. Trip stuck his head out after her.

"Office Jenny, presumably," he said.

"Only if she finds us." Georgia opening the back door and pulled the levers to flatten the back row of seats. She then retrieved one of the aforementioned blankets and laid it out as if it were a sheet.

"Georgia..." Trip started tentatively.

"Officer Jenny has better things to do than yell at some kids sleeping the back of a car," Georgia told him point-blank.

"It's just—"

"—If you'd rather me drive you back to Nuvema Town, I will," she cut him off. She obviously still irritated from losing her hotel room, and so Trip decided not to bother her on the matter any more.

"No, it's fine," he resigned. He unbuckled his own seatbelt and stepped out to help her. "Done this before?"

"A couple times." Georgia shrugged. Having spread out the several blankets she owned, she climbed inside and lied down. Trip watched her with evident hesitation; was she expecting him to sleep next to her, like it was nothing? Then again, her original plan seemed to be for them to share a hotel room...

"What?" Georgia asked, noticing his expression.

"It's not even 9 p.m. yet," Trip said lamely.

"Want me to take you to a strip club?" she asked, and he glowered at her.

"I'll pass."

"Right, silly me," Georgia said with a suppressed laugh. "Why pay for a strip club when you have me in the back of a car?" She was tempted to laugh again when she saw, even in the dim lighting, his face go red. "Relax. That was a joke. Lie down."

He obeyed. He followed her suit, climbing into the car and lying beside her on the blankets. He adjusted himself for a moment, trying to get comfortable. The lack of a mattress would make for a hard night of sleeping and a sore back in the morning. At least he wasn't entering the contest like she was.

"... Do you think it's going to work tomorrow?" Trip asked after a while.

"I don't know," Georgia dismissed. She quickly realized, however, that he was asking for his own assurance, and she amended, "I think it has a pretty good shot." He appeared no more satisfied, and she added, "Your mom's going to be okay."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he reprimanded her. Georgia nearly snapped but she bit her tongue and took a moment to let her surge of frustration dissolve.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I don't know what to say in this kind of situation."

He pressed his lips together.

"It's all right. I wouldn't either," he conceded. A brief silence fell, but in it, any lingering tension resolved thanks to her apology and his acceptance of it. Georgia sucked in her breath then rolled her head toward him.

"Well, I can promise that there are people doing everything they can to save your mom, and others," she offered.

"I know." He nodded, then also turned his head toward her. "I hope they succeed, too. Not just for obvious reasons, but because I know Iris will never forgive herself if she dies. She keeps a pretty strong front for everything she goes through, but she's good at the self-blame game. Not as good as Cilan, but still."

"Three of you are pretty close, aren't you?" Georgia rose her head and rested it on her hand. "Plus Ritchie."

"Yeah." Trip folded his hands over his chest. "Dying really has a way of bringing people together."

She snorted and said, "I can't believe I got dragged into your mess."

He knew what she meant: Even after seven years, they were still entangled in the politics of the preceding Champions. And now, she was tied up in the knots, too. All he could say to this, though, was, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," she told him. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't have had the chance to get to know you."

The beautiful, bluish hue of her eyes were distinguishable even in the dark. He swallowed and briefly turned his head away.

"Don't say things like that," he said. "It makes me want to..."

"Want to what?" Georgia asked, though it sounded like she already knew the answer, and that gave Trip the courage he needed to finish that statement.

He looked straight at her again and said, "It makes me want to kiss you."

Georgia, perhaps unsurprisingly, only smirked.

"Well, I'm not stopping you," she said.

This was a clear invitation on Georgia's standards, and Trip was more than willing to accept. He grasped the side of her face and gently pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back—but softness wasn't what she wanted, and she was quick to deepen this first kiss before eagerly going in for a second one. Then a third. Then, she she went for his neck.

---

It was strange, being in an empty, open-air stadium at night. Drew was used to seeing them alive with people, with light, with a palpable sense of excitement hanging in the air—not an ominous feeling of dread. Most of the staff had left for the night, as had the volunteers, and Don George had turned over the keys to Drew earlier before wishing him luck. Drew had suppressed a laugh then, because they needed all the luck they could get.

"I can't believe it's here already." Drew jolted in surprise when May—he hadn't noticed she was there beside him at all, leaning against the railing overlooking the field—spoke. Her smile widened before she rolled her head toward him and added, "It feels just like last week that we were putting together a staff list in that café."

"A lot has happened since then," he noted. The words were agreeable, but tone was everything, and May frowned.

"Yeah..." Her voice briefly faded. Then, she said, "Kenny and Dawn left together."

"I know." Drew nodded. "Maybe one thing will get solved tonight."

"Maybe tomorrow, many things will," May added hopefully. She touched his face before she kissed him, wanting to reassure him.

"Uh..."

May and Drew pulled themselves apart and glanced behind them to see Ash.

"Hi, Ash." May beamed at him. Her cheeks were tinted pink, mildly embarrassed that he had caught them at an intimate moment, but she was nevertheless happy to see him.

"Hey, May." Ash smiled weakly. Clearly, he was equally embarrassed.

"Where's your posse?" Drew was more unamused than anything. "I would've expected for at least your girlfriend and brother to be around."

"Ah, Misty took Pikachu and went back to the hotel," Ash answered. Drew calling Misty his girlfriend had briefly thrown him off. He hadn't told him, or May, that he and Misty were now an item, but Misty might have. Then it occurred to him that Drew might have been ignorantly snarky. He continued, "Silver just disappears sometimes."

"Where to?"

"I don't know." Ash shook his head. "He couldn't have gone too far, though. He left some stuff in our room." The topic bothered him, judging by his expression, and Drew couldn't blame him. He was half-surprised Silver was still around, and it mystified him why he was.

"So did you need to talk to us about anything?" May asked kindly.

"Not really, I guess..." Ash shrugged. "I just wanted to check in. I told everyone else to go on ahead."

"Well, I'm okay!" May offered him. She then turned an eye to Drew, inquiring, "Drew?"

He was silent in response. Both May and Ash knew what this meant, and Ash remarked, "Not as okay, huh?"

Drew let out an exasperated sigh and turned toward the field again. "I could be throwing away months of hard work away tomorrow," he said. "It's hard not to get frustrated."

"You're not throwing away anyone's hard work," Ash assured him, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "If this works, and Team Plasma comes, that means we could actually maybe figure out where they are and if they have a treatment for Virus X. It could save lives."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Drew trailed off. He suddenly added, "You always keep my head on straight, Ash Ketchum." Drew turned to his companions once more as he slid his hands into his pockets. "Let's just hope Team Plasma shows tomorrow, then."

July 16th, 2009. Late Evening. Opelucid City.

Zoey heard a haze of warm, charming voices in the next room the moment she stepped through the door, and she immediately knew. With a sigh, she pushed the door closed with her hip and sauntered toward the noise. Sure enough, she found Paul—more dressed down than she was used to seeing him, with his hair tied back into a ponytail—sitting on his sofa, watching the news.

"Someday, I'll charge one of you idiots for breaking and entering," he remarked without even looking her way.

"The door was unlocked," Zoey informed him flatly. Her eyes trailed toward the television. The commentators were talking about him and his allegedly suicidal behavior. "Arceus, you're just like Dawn." She quickly located the remote and turned off the set. Paul drew back into the cushion of his sofa with a low growl rumbling in his throat.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, finally making eye contact.

"I'm here to drill some sense into you," she declared.

"Oh boy." His voice was dripping with unenthusiasm. Zoey sucked in her breath.

"Look..." she started with a gentler tone. "What happened is awful. That article is awful. Ciara Skelley is an awful person. I feel terrible that it happened; everyone does. Everyone sympathizes with you. And, you and Dawn need to talk."

"Somehow I knew you were going to say that."

"You've ignored each other for weeks despite a lot of unresolved..." Zoey suddenly wished she would have rehearsed this conversation through a couple more times on the drive there. "... issues. Like Torterra."

"You sound just like Caitlin," Paul scoffed, and Zoey straightened up.

"So it's true, then?" she asked in a matter-of-fact way. "You are seeing a therapist?"

"Of course it is." It was almost like he wanted to make her sound stupid. "If it wasn't, I wouldn't care about the article."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Zoey tried to reassure him. "It's a good thing. That article presented it in a bad light, but you seeing someone is good. I think a lot of us have had the impression something was..." She paused and groped for the right word when he gave her a warning stare. "... off."

"It doesn't matter," Paul dismissed. "I didn't want anyone to know. I didn't want it to..."

"I know." Zoey nodded. She paused again before she asked, "Tell me, what's the most personal thing you know about me?"

He stared at her, trying to dissect her intentions. Zoey expected this. She held firm. His eyes strayed away, thinking. Then, he said, "You have a tattoo of a West Sea Gastrodon on your hip."

Zoey raised an eyebrow.

"How'd you know that?"

"I saw it once when you stretched and your shirt rode up," he explained.

Zoey half-laughed in distaste, saying, "Glad to know you're looking."

"I wasn't looking," Paul corrected. "It was just there in front of me."

"Mhm." Zoey sounded unimpressed. "Well, whatever. That hardly counts. Something personal you know about me." When he said nothing, Zoey rolled her eyes, wondering if this was going to be of any use of all. "Geez."

"I also know Candice has a tattoo of an East Sea Gastrodon on her shoulder," Paul said suddenly, a little quickly, catching Zoey off guard. "And I've drawn my conclusions. That personal enough for you?"

Zoey stared. Her mouth felt a little dry.

"Well done," she eventually commended, begrudgingly so.

"Answer me this: Why are you keeping your relationship with Candice a secret?" Paul asked, leaning back into his sofa again.

"It's not that either of us are ashamed." Zoey's tone told that she wasn't either. "But there are potential repercussions from having a public relationship." She almost sounded scientific about it.

"Repercussions?" Paul repeated dryly.

"You ever wonder why I don't talk about my parents?" Zoey asked him.

"Yeah, you don't talk about them because you don't talk to them," Paul replied. "Why do they matter?"

"They don't. It's what they represent that matters."

"The fallout." Paul already knew. He then threw her question back in her face, saying, "You ever wonder why Dawn and I broke up?"

"That's different." Zoey was becoming more frustrated.

"It's not," Paul insisted. He was almost angry now. "You're a hypocrite. You've come here to lecture me about protecting myself against something you're afraid of." Zoey was rolling her eyes again and sighing, but Paul pressed on, "You saw what happened to Barry, too."

"Of course," Zoey cut in before he could go any further. "Of course I saw what happened to Barry, and yes, I'm cautious because of it. I didn't break up with Candice because of it, though. You, however, did." He glowered at her. She continued, "This is getting off my original point. The reason why I asked what the most personal thing you know about me is was because I wanted to prove that everyone has things that private to them, but that people who care about you aren't going to let it affect their perception of you. You know I'm dating Candice, and you still treat me the same way you treated me when we first met."

"And what's that?"

"With slight contempt and respect," she answered. "I don't think any differently of you. No one else that matters does either. We're just worried." When he said nothing again, Zoey asked, "What's it going to take to get you and Dawn to talk again? What's holding you back? Is it pride? Embarrassment? Are you mad at her?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," Paul replied. "Look, I know Dawn and I need to talk. I'm not an idiot. But I don't even know where to start."

"Maybe 'I'm sorry,' if you are," Zoey suggested. "Or maybe 'Thank you,' because you know she's going to apologize to you."

Paul, perhaps surprisingly, pressed his lips together, considering her words.

"I'm not going down to Nimbasa Town tonight," he eventually decided.

"You don't have to," Zoey said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Paul appeared deeply cautious.

"It means nothing." Zoey picked up the remote and tossed it to him. "Watch your damn TV. Something other than the news."

Paul, now resentful, wouldn't touch the power button at first. But Zoey gave him a look—a familiar one, one that said, "Are you really going to act like a child now?"—and he eventually gave in, turning the television back on and flipping through channels until he landed on Proteam Omega. It was the animated show Barry and Kenny loved. Paul had never sat down and watched anything from it, but it had been background noise before.

Zoey plopped down on another sofa and pulled out her phone. She started texting someone. Paul watched her suspiciously, expecting her to try to talk to him again. She wouldn't have left Nimbasa Town unless she felt like she could accomplish something with him, and she wouldn't return until she did.

Yet, the silence persisted between them. They nearly got through an entire episode, though neither were really watching, when there was a knock at the front door. Zoey immediately stood.

"If it's Leaf, tell her I'm not here," Paul instructed her. Zoey didn't respond.

He couldn't hear who was there over the television, so he shut it off. The door closed, and Paul guessed Zoey had sent whoever had showed up (hopefully Leaf) away. He was wrong. Instead of Zoey, Dawn walked into the room.

Paul stared.

"I was set up," he realized.

Dawn blinked and suddenly looked a little nervous, and a little disgruntled.

"I was, too," she said.

"Yes, you were forced to walk through the door," Paul said sarcastically.

"I was told you wanted to talk," Dawn clarified, "but I'm guessing from your tone that isn't true."

They were at an impasse. Paul knew he needed to decide what to do. He could tell Dawn was mortified, even if she was doing well not to show it, and he couldn't blame her. She had walked into this conversation with a completely different impression than reality, and now she was stuck.

"Sit down," he said. She did, where Zoey previously sat.

"I'm sorry," she began. It only took a few moments for her to reach those words.

"Zoey told me you'd say that," Paul remarked. "Why?"

"Why... did Zoey say... ?" Dawn turned her head, flinching, confused by the ambiguity of his "Why?"

"Why are you sorry?" he repeated. Dawn folded her hands in her lap and cast her gaze down.

"I told Leaf I thought you needed help," she admitted.

Paul pursed his lips.

"I know," he said, a little quietly. No one had ever told him, but he knew the playing field. The only way Leaf could know—the only way anyone could know—is if Dawn said something. And suddenly, he became angry.

"You're not sorry," he spat. "You're gratified. You were right."

"Maybe I'm not sorry I told Leaf, but I am sorry it got out," Dawn defended. "I know you blame me. Not just for the article, but for Torterra, too. I don't know if you're going to forgive me on either count—maybe you can't—but I'm still sorry."

This struck Paul, and he lowered his head, too.

"I don't—blame you," he said carefully. "... Pokémon take after their trainers. Torterra did the same thing I would have."

Dawn's bottom lip briefly quivered.

"It wasn't self-sacrifice, it was—"

"—Yeah, I know," Paul, annoyed again, cut her off before she could finish. "It was an error. It was trainer error, and that cost him. I was hoping you'd play along so I could actually talk myself into believing it. At least Leaf had the courtesy of doing that." He then huffed and conceded, "Then again, Leaf wasn't there to know."

"It wasn't just your errors, it was mine," Dawn hastily tried amend. "It was us."

"Don't make me hate you," he warned.

"I'm surprised you already don't," Dawn said candidly.

"You're incredibly obnoxious, but I don't hate you." His tone softened up again, if only a little. "I'll probably never hate you, if I'm being honest."

Dawn wrung her hands together, observing him. She didn't get to see him much, but his appearance—his face—had become a reflection of his wellbeing. He wasn't as bad off as he was immediately after Torterra died, but he wasn't doing as well as he was when she last saw him while looking for the Unova base.

"Have you been doing better, seeing Caitlin?" she asked.

"I suppose," he answered with no elaboration.

"What's the diagnosis, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm surprised Leaf didn't tell you," he mumbled.

"I didn't ask," Dawn said. "I didn't want to pry."

Paul didn't know what to make of that.

"Depression," he answered. Dawn nodded, processing this. Depression. She should have known, thinking about it. The signs were obvious enough. Although, she supposed that was exactly why she ended up going to Leaf.

"Has she—Caitlin—put you on medication?" Dawn asked.

"Not yet," Paul replied. "She will, once she figures out that you're not the cure to my problems."

"I could've told her that," Dawn said. "The problems were there before we broke up."

"Any other questions you want to get out of the way, or are we done clearing the air?" Paul was evidently tired of the conversation now, and Dawn knew she was pushing her limit. Yet, she couldn't resist.

"Yeah, one," Dawn started. "Why did you break up with me?"

"Don't tell me you've been agonizing over that for the past month," Paul grumbled.

"No." Dawn shook her head. "But I still want to know."

Paul thought over his answer for only a moment. Then, he said, "I was angry, at you, in that moment, because I knew you were right."

"If it was a momentary thing, then why did we stay broken up?" Dawn pressed. "Normal couples, when they break up in anger, they make up a day later and get back together."

"Were we ever a normal couple?"

"... I guess not." Dawn fell back.

Paul knew she wasn't satisfied with his response. He wasn't satisfied with himself, especially because he knew if they didn't close it up now, they'd have to address the issue again. It was also because he knew it would keep bothering her, and worse, it would keep bothering him.

"We didn't get back together for the same reason we broke up: Because I knew you were right," Paul said.

"So it was pride?" Dawn asked.

"It was realizing I was so numb to feeling emotions that I couldn't love you—" Paul couldn't stop himself from saying it. "—not in the way I was supposed to." Dawn's eyes widened, and Paul, after weeks of deflecting and ignoring and stonefacing, finally broke down and told the truth. "I knew breaking up with you was a mistake, and I missed you, but getting back together meant I would continue only giving you a fraction of what you deserve."

Dawn unraveled her hands and laid them on her knees.

"I can't tell if you're saying you never loved me or that you love me still," she said.

"Me neither," he admitted.

For a while, neither said anything. Neither moved. Dawn was the first to break the tense still painting. She slid off her sofa and onto his, next to him, so she could press her lips against his. He didn't respond.

"What was that for?" he asked when she pulled back.

"I was trying to help you figure it out." She dropped her hand off his shoulder. "I don't believe that you've never loved me."

"Why's that?"

"Maybe you don't feel love like other people do, but I don't believe that you lack love," Dawn said frankly. "If you couldn't love, then that would mean you didn't care. But you do care, about your brother, about Cedar, about Torterra, about Leaf, about Iris, about..."

"About you," he finished for her. Their eyes were locked. Her hand now covered his. "I don't blame you," he repeated. Then, he added, "I'm sorry."

Dawn didn't know what to say, and Paul couldn't stand his own inaction anymore—so he kissed her, too.

April 6th, 2004. Early Evening. Twinleaf Town.

The rain was coming.

Driving on slick roads was dangerous, especially for someone who was new at it. Dawn was insistent she needed the experience and that there was "no need to worry," and Paul supposed he'd always had a taste for chaos. Still, he was half-thankful for his still-beating heart by the time they turned onto her street and pulled in front of her house.

"Ease on the break," he instructed her. She slammed on it, and it was lucky they were only going 5 miles per hour in a neighborhood. The car jolted, as did both the driver and the passenger. "I said ease."

"Sorry," Dawn apologized sheepishly. Paul said nothing; he unbuckled his seatbelt and started gathering the things at his feet, wanting to protect them from the rain as best as he could. Yet, he soon realized Dawn was watching him, and he turned his head toward her, giving her an odd look.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." She smiled. "Thanks for taking me driving today."

"... Sure."

"Think I'll be ready for my driver's test?" she asked, almost playfully.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Give it another two years."

Dawn frowned, pouting.

"Very funny," she said. Paul returned to his things, but his attention was arrested when her hand unexpectedly slid over his knee. He gave her another strange look.

"Hey," she started in a very quiet, very gentle voice. She had been quiet and gentle before, but it was never like this. There was something different, something new, something with gravity, in her voice. Her eyes were different, too. They were larger, clearer, sure, and unsure, at the same time. "I love you."

It was the first time she had ever said it. It was the first time he had ever heard it. Maybe Reggie had said it once or twice, maybe, but he couldn't remember then. It had never occurred to Paul that maybe someone could love him, someone who wasn't obligated to love him, someone who didn't have the context of his childhood innocence to sway their opinion—only him, as he was, now.

The color in his face didn't change, but the stiff coherency of his words did.

"I—" he started, not knowing what to say. "I'm—I do—I do, too. You. To you."

Dawn knew what he meant. She laughed, kissed him, and pressed her head into his shoulder. Paul absently pressed his lips against her temple and suddenly realized he was trapped. Not because he hadn't meant it when he said he loved her (in uncharacteristically bungled terms), but because he had.

July 16th, 2009. Evening. Unknown Location.

It was fantastic. Everything about it was fantastic.

He had never seen so many happy Pokémon, genuinely delighting in their own fires, and their own fireworks, and their own storms, and the many other unique abilities that each held. And N was confused, because they were with people, and they were working with those people. Trainers. How could they be happy? Suddenly, he had to know where this place was; he had to know if this was the truth, if the Pokémon were truly happy.

"N."

Of course. He should have known. It was a dream.

"N!"

N gasped aloud as he awoke, and as the visions faded from his eyes, he saw his sisters Anthea and Concordia standing at his bedside. There was evident concern in their eyes. He had been thrashing in his sleep when they arrived, but they had not arrived because he was thrashing in his sleep.

"Anthea, Concordia—" he started excitedly, before either of them could speak. "I saw—I saw something—there were Pokémon, and they were doing incredible things, beautiful things—"

"—N," Anthea suddenly, gently cut him off. "We have to go."

N blinked, confused. His elation deflated.

"Go? Why?" he asked.

"Anthea and I snuck into the forbidden room," Concordia spoke up. "We saw all the Pokémon there. There are terrible things happening to them."

"Terrible things?" N sat up in alarm.

"We read some notes and—" Concordia continued. "Colress is a bad man. And father..."

"What about father?" N was standing now, too. There was a wild anger growing in his eyes. "What did you read? What did you see?"

"N, we have to go," Anthea quietly repeated.

N sucked in his breath, trying to collect himself. Then, in a calm, low voice, he said, "Show me first."

.

.

.

A/N: Apologies for the long delay. I was busy graduating college.