Once again, Lyra's mother sat down, readjusting her tea cup on the table and fidgeting in her seat. Silver wanted to urge her into explaining everything– about the unforgivable thing she had done to Lyra– but he managed to have enough tact to wait.

In this forced, prolonged silence, Silver finally remembered the words that Morty had said to him over a week ago– the secrets about Lyra's past: "But it didn't stop there. Subsequent to her hospital release, it seems her father's company threw her into questioning and documentation. A sort of confined jail. And her mother... Well. I think I'll stop there for now."

"Hold it," Silver said aloud, clasping his dense head in a delayed epiphany; "So THAT ordeal gave Lyra some kind of policeaphobia?" That's insane! he thought; Why didn't I realize it sooner?

Lyra-Mama's right eye twitched in exasperation. "Hold your BUTT," she snapped; "I didn't even say anything yet! Stop getting all enlightened! And it's not policeaphobia, it's astynomiaphobia." Everyday there was something new to learn.

Taken aback by the woman's outburst, Silver quickly composed himself. "Humph. I already know a lot about Lyra, so don't act so surprised."

"You do, huh? Then why you here asking me about her?"

"That's…" An entirely good point, Silver thought. When it concerns Lyra, I go freakin' stupid…

Closing her eyes, Lyra-mama nodded her head understandingly. "I know, I know. You're one of those guys who tends to get ahead of himself. Picks out a girl before she even likes him. Bullies her for attention. Follows her. Steals her stuff."

"T-th–" With a reddening face, Silver chocked on NOTHING and coughed wildly. Before he could even explain himself, the woman leaned over the table and placed a gentle hand on his head.

"It's ok," she told him. "Love is when you want to be close to a person– in every way possible. For you to be close to that person, you have to understand everything about them. You'll naturally be drawn to know more. So. it's time… I stop bottling this up about Lyra and me. I need to tell someone, so it might as well be you." She pulled her hands into her lap and stared down at them. "The unforgivable thing I did to Lyra is… I failed her as a parent. When her father died, I abandoned her like a coward. When she was scared, she was all alone. I left her out to rise and she hardened into an unrecognizable rock of regrets." No doubt she was comparing her daughter to a past baking experience.

Gulping steadily, Silver sourly remembered his first personal conversation with Lyra.

"Saying all these weird things to me, and so casually, too!" he had accused her; "You… You live such an easy life where everything is handed to you... You have NO IDEA what it's like to scrape by, to fight for yourself after someone leaves you behind. I had to steal Totodile– it's the only way– because without Totodile, I'm..." His words had evaporated into the surrounding silence, combining with the whistling afternoon breeze.

"... all alone," Lyra had said, continuing his words; "And trying to be strong…"

"It was– a total disaster," Lyra-Mama began quietly. "When it happened, the train track's crumpled, smoldering imagery was all over the news. Seven hours in, and only remains were found; no survivors. I woke up to that… It was early morning, and cold, so I– turned off the TV. And the radio. I took the phone apart. And then I went back to bed." She rubbed her arms, as if the coldness from that morning was still touching her.

"You went back to bed," Silver repeated, trying to make sense of this. Went back to bed? he repeated in his mind. What the…

"I wanted to wake up– and for them to be there. Lyra and my husband– my family. But they didn't come home. I kept waking up, going back to bed, waiting, thinking foolish thoughts, and hoping it all wasn't real. Over and over, holing myself up here. Shady people and reporters arrived in droves, knocking and making demands, so one night, I snuck away to Tohjo Falls." She stopped and breathed. Squeezing her arms tightly, she continued lowly: "And I hid there for two months. Two whole months, while Lyra… took the heat that I ran away from. Waiting for me in custody. Being hurt by strangers–" Though the woman had managed to hold herself fairly well, she gasped and let loose a miserable sob– and then a drizzle of tears and possibly snot. Shielding her face she trembled ashamedly, possibly due to all the gruesome things coming out of her. "And more than anything, she was hurt by me. At such a time, I abandoned her. To accept the weight of the world on her own. For children, such feelings– no matter how far one runs– can never be left behind. That child will spend the rest of her life running."

Those feelings… Silver thought he left his own on that green island in his memories. But those feelings always took a new form whenever possible. When his mom left him– and then his father– he thought he understood it at last. It was foolish to look up to anyone– to rely on somebody, or anything, so childishly. The only one you can rely on is yourself. He thought he knew this. But… I'm not so strong. So I'm always reaching out while simultaneously pushing away. I make myself hate everything I love. I'm a confused mess, and a Jerkface… Lyra. How can I look after you when I can't even look after myself?

Wiping her face on her apron, Lyra-Mama took a sip of tea and once again managed to reassume her facade of calmness. "Though I hid in some little cave, Lyra's aunt found me," she admitted. "She beat some long-needed sense into me and told me Lyra was still alive, in trouble and waiting for me. So I did the long-awaited and we went and made a big scene– turned the Goldenrod Police Department upside down. But my little girl beat me to it. She'd escaped the day before. And what did they, the mighty police, have to say for it?" Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her legs and let out an exasperated huff. "One officer said she had done a jailbreak, another said an unknown sympathizer let her out… And so the next few hours spent looking for her felt like days. But of course Lyra was all right. Ethan's grandparents called eventually– told me he'd found her in Ilex forest the night before. She was safe and sound right outside of town the whole damn time…"

Breathing sharply, Silver willfully ignored all mention of Lyra's Important Childhood Friend, Ethan™, and crossed his arms firmly. "So," Silver began, repetitively thumping the floor with his heel. "How DID Lyra escape? You asked her about it later, didn't you?"

"Yes. But. About her escape. She'd only tell me strange and senseless things… Like that she bit off her big toe nail and picked the lock with it. Or that she summoned her spirit pokemon and exploded the bars. Or that she burned her cosmos and did a hundred headbutts per second."

Wait, how would headbutts help? Silver wondered ponderously.

"Or that she saved up all the shiokara paste from her meals and painted herself with it in order to blend into the dirty cell walls," Lyra-mama continued, "kinda like that one movie with the little autistic girl–"

"–OK, I don't want to hear any more about THAT," Silver cut her off. These stories were getting senselessly stranger and increasingly disturbing with each procession.

Lyra-mama shook her head. "Fine. I don't know," she said. "But about a year ago, Lyra told me a new story. That someone had stopped time itself and unlocked everything for her to escape. She sounded serious for once… It sounded like the work of the forest's protector. The protector… As mystifying as it sounds, it's probably just a pokemon, right?"

Silver stopped his boot mid-thump. Where had he heard about this 'protector' before? The shrine in the middle of Ilex forest, he contemplated, his awareness dimming as he recalled the beginning of him and his rival's history.

In the green, diffused light of Ilex forest, he remembered Lyra's crouching back– her knees pulled close to her chest and her head hunched over. Rocking back and forth on her heels– and swinging like a soulless tree branch in the breeze– she spoke at last: "...I figured you'd get arrested."

"I don't need your help." Lashing out at her and constantly misunderstanding her; this habit of his was still the same. "How did you get me here?"

"I carried you. Don't worry, I was careful."

Standing there, Silver waited for her to turn around and say something else– to look his way and uplift the mood. But she just kept walking away– disappearing into a fold of trees and the gap between their merging shade.

Why did she look so sad?

Now I know. It was… her memories from then.

Snapping from his recollection, Silver became aware of the audible breeze blowing in from the hole-riddled door of the Lyra household– or whatever the hell it was called. Of all the things he knew, he still didn't know her last name. "The shady people you were talking about before," he spoke up. "They made the police confine Lyra to shake you out, right? It's hard to understand. Why did they do such a dirty thing?"

"It's because–" Lyra-mama stopped and deliberated. "My husband and I, only through our combined connections did the Magnet Train Project gain enough support. That is, financial support," she said; "Our connections included not only our combined criminal families, but also a prominent Kanto-based racketeering group. This group was our main source of funds… and this group was not pleased when their investment turned scandal and failed. They wanted us to pay in blood. That's how the underworld works."

Silver understood what this meant but didn't want to. It couldn't be. It was too much of a horrible coincidence. But Kanto had always been Team Rocket's territory– they never allowed any other criminal clans or organizations to root themselves there– they crushed or assimilated all rivals. They were that group. All along, Team Rocket had been the main backer for the Magnet Train project.

"You mean," he gulped, his voice falling down his throat; "Those racketeers, that large crime group, went after you two personally?"

"Hm!" she laughed sharply. "Thanks to Champion Red, that group was significantly weakened. But when I couldn't be reached, they somehow managed to pressure the already-corrupt Goldenrod Police into confining Lyra. Legal kidnapping. But when I failed to show up– and was unavailable for contact– they went so far as to interrogate her for my whereabouts. They were so desperate, they interrogated a little girl!"

Is this somehow… my fault? Silver contemplated, wondering if he could blame himself for any particular thing. Even though he was ever more of a useless and ignorant brat back then, he still felt responsible somehow. Damn it… Why are we connected in this horrible way? If only I could take the knowledge I had now– and my memories of her– back through time and change everything.

"The Goldenrod Police, they kept Lyra's detainment off-record. Because of this, I was unable to ever find out exactly what they did to her," Lyra-mama said, her voice trembling with a hint of murderous rage. "I can only guess. Because Lyra won't ever tell me about that, either. She just says, 'They smacked me around and wouldn't let me use the toilet. They asked me where I hid the bodies.' She writes it off as a big joke. She doesn't want me to worry about it… She doesn't want to ever trust me as her mother again…"

And upon saying this, Lyra-mama curled up into a withered husk of a woman and emitted blue fungal spores– the kind caused by the natural decomposition present during intense depression.

Clenching the edge of the table, Silver fumed in his own kind of festering emotions. IDIOT, he internally cursed at Lyra; Refusing to tell anyone… that's even more worrying!

Curiously watching the boy stew in resentment, Lyra-Mama poured more tea; she had somehow gulped it all down in her own emotional moments. "It's fine, it's fine," she reassured him. "Her rebelliousness is payback for my failure. Because I damaged her. Children are like that… Easily damaged by their parents. Maybe you can understand… Please take care of my daughter."

As if listening in on their conversation, the pokegear in Lyra-mama's apron pocket chirped. Fishing it out, she searched its screen for meaning. "Incoming money transfer," she read aloud. "From Lyra in Goldenrod. Sent five minutes ago."

Quickly glancing down at his untouched tea, still quite taken aback by their conversation, Silver took a long sip and stood up. "I see. Then I'm leaving," he announced; "Since I've got important work to do." Hurrying and facing the disheveled door, he paused awkwardly. He had forgotten all about kicking it in earlier. "I'm sorry about your door…"

"It's fine," Lyra-mama said. "Forget about it. It was all my fault."

"It wasn't all your fault…" Dragging the unhinged door open, and propping it back up, Silver left the same way he had arrived. "Later," his voice drifted back.


Clinging to her hat, and Aerodactyl's tough back, Lyra hurtled through the endless night sky tucked between his sail-like wings– the both of them chilled and kept alert by the battering wind.

"It's a long flight back to Mahogany Town, huh?" Lyra asked, closing her eyes and imagining that they were lost, upside down, and swinging by a fishing line through the endless sky.

When Aerodactyl only snorted in response, Lyra drifted back to the memory which had re-surfaced earlier during their training run through Ilex Forest– to the memory of that vacant police department and the empty streets of Goldenrod three years before.

On that mysterious night long ago, all the doors had opened and all the neon city lights had dimmed. The dirt road to the forest, glowing, almost encouraged her to run for it.

It was if the night itself had held its breath for that one moment.

For Lyra, after weeks of an unwanted existence– of recoiling in fear, of wondering the meaning of loneliness and death– or of being thrown into a room where angry voices slammed her head against a table– she had been freed.

Escaping into the forest, and losing myself in the night, she remembered it all nostalgically; Protected by the unbeatable darkness, I fell asleep underneath the forest's shrine, and when I woke up… I was swimming in hotel blankets and my mother's back was there. Somehow, it felt as if I had just been born.

Lyra clung to Aerodactyl even tighter. Though those days with her mother had been difficult– and they spent months away from home trying to escape the accident– those days together had become irreplaceable, bittersweet memories.

Opening her eyes, and taking in the inland scenery, Lyra witnessed the dark blue coastal fog dissipating all around and the moon breaking free to cast a spotlight on the land below. Mahogany Town– with its little lights flickering from its lookout towers– emerged in sight and the Lake of Rage– a big silver platter– shone far beyond like a brilliant mirage.

Lyra took in everything with her wind-blasted eyes. At night, everything that catches moonlight shines silver…

That guy. What is he doing now?

And how many times had he shown her a kindness only she knew of, with that begrudging attitude and snappish manner of his? For some ridiculous reason, she loved it.

Silver. He's difficult to get along with, but I'm always awaiting the next time I see him. It's like he's always around the corner– and it makes me a little bit nervous. My heart pounds and I can't tell if its fear or a strange affection. But I'm sure… It's both! Lyra laughed at how absurd it was, her voice disappearing into the stabs of cold air.

He always seems to be searching for something, huh? She felt it was presumptuous to think it was her– and she had a feeling it had something to do with Team Rocket– so it was bound to be something interesting. A past vendetta? I hope he finds it.

I hope I see him again.

Chilly air blasted up at her, making her flinch and momentarily wish she had something warm around her. Peeking over her shoulder, she leaned forward as soon as her center of balance dropped.

"Tchaaa," Aerodactyl trilled, informing her they were landing at their destination.

"Time to jump," Lyra huffed, vaulting off the side with arms open wide. Walloping the ground and pulling Aerodactyl back into his pokeball, she ran all the way to the gym where a death trap of a floor awaited.

Gliding across the ice on her belly, Lyra– who had covered herself in bruises from slipping and falling down on the gym's glassy floors– flew along uncontrollably for the umpteenth time and slammed head-first into a wall. Fortunately, her enormously puffy hat shielded her brain from further damage.

"Nature, it is so… It is so awesomely cold," she said dimly, curling up on the gleaming ice and floating sideways– like a faded autumn leaf adrift on a shallow winter stream. "And unforgiving…"

In her final silence, the floor cooling units hummed distractingly in the distance like a thousand refrigerators (which they basically were) and no one recorded her crappy death haiku.

"WOOOT~ CHECK OUT MY PARALLEL TURN," a skier yelled, zooming past and tearing up ice.

A tidy little pile of snow landed on Lyra's back and she revived, coughing and hacking up ice particles. "Geh… This must be one of those gyms that employ lateral thinking puzzles," she thought to herself aloud, holding her chin and kneeling on the ice floor for support. "Yes, because otherwise, this floor is COMPLETELY untraversable for trainers who weren't born Skiers or Boarders… I wonder. What would a Firebreather do? Or a Swimmer? Ah…"

Of course. THAT, Lyra thought, an eldritch idea forming in her mind. Getting down on all fours, and wriggling her butt in the air, she roared and the pounced the skier mid-parallel turn.

"-Uwa- AWAGGH–" the skier screamed, struggling and flopping against the ice as Lyra tore at her skis, yanking them away without any explanation or mercy.

Standing up, Lyra piled the skis beside a boulder on the ice and pulled out her favorite brand of hard liquor. "Burn up the floor burnin' the floor we're BURNING THE FLOOR," she yowled, sprinkling the alcohol with an inhumane sort of eagerness. When a nearby Boarder came riding in to stop her, she headbutted him in the stomach, stole his snowboard, and added it to her kindling. "Good, it is ready," she muttered, searching her hip for either a match or Typhlosion's pokeball.

"Sa-staahp her!"

"My board!" the Boarder cried piteously.

Instantaneously, all the gym trainers (puffer jacketed Boarders and Skiers alike) gathered and screamed mightily, tackling Lyra to the floor with great effort and pile-driving across the ice as one intertwined lump of bodies. Crash landing on a distant bank, a chorus of groans and wails erupted.

"This is insane, I can't take this anymore," the first Boarder complained, squashed near the bottom of the pile and nearly in tears; "I'm going back to Sinnoh to work at my family's noodle house!"

"Fine, leave!" a Skier answered bitterly. "Do it already."

"Go back to your PRECIOUS noodle house," another egged on. They were apparently well accustomed to his idle threat of returning to his original destiny.

"N-noodles," Lyra said, the source of her voice hidden beneath the group pile. "Red sauce…"

"I'm going home."

"Ye-aaaah."

One by one, the Boarders and Skiers left and Lyra stood up, dusting ice off her overalls and staring dead ahed. A frosty breeze shook her pigtails and a mysterious figure emerged from the cold fog.

"Are you… Leader Pryce?" Lyra asked uncertainly, cautiously walking nearer. "The man who was fictionally defamed by Team Rocket's explosive comic books?"

"ARGHHH," the old man howled, "Team Rocket and their evil doujinshi ring– I'll never forgive them for the pain and suffering they've caused me!"

"Sir, I know the name of the man who defamed you," Lyra said, kneeling solemnly like a knight. "His name is Executive Petrel. He claims to be a great artist but he actually traces poses from copyrighted photos. I unscrewed the lightbulb in his light box so he may never do evil again."

"You idiot! You should've smashed it!"

"Oh, but you see." Lyra held out her hands. "Since he knows it only needs to be screwed back in, he'll never buy another one. And since he's a procrastinator, he'll never screw it back in."

"Ah… I see…" Pryces nodded his head sagely. "Genius."

Taking a moment to dig through her bag and put on her cape, Lyra did her best imitation of Lancer Dragoon and threw out its length. "Hmph!" It flapped in the indoor breeze. "I've waited for this day for so long. Old man, I've taken care of Team Rocket with my swift hand of anti-art-theft, so battle me now!"

Taking two steps to the left, just to line up with the Gym's cooling vents, Pryce smirked, a majestic breeze fluttering his scarf impressively. "I, Pryce – the Winter Trainer – shall grant your request then. Let me demonstrate my true power!"

"Ahh!" Lyra gasped in awe, watching him intensely. "Incredible… but you've just made one fatal mistake," she said, taking two steps to the left as well. "My eyes happen to have the unique ability to see you and now– I've memorized your secret technique. To use against you! Defeat is imminent!"

"Yes! YOURS. Come at me, child!"

"Hraggh!" Lyra threw back her cape, its form billowing even more impressively than before.

"Hmm, I'm stunned by your ability to keep up with my pace," Pryce admitted. "But seriously, we should probably battle for real now."

"Aw, yeah… Ok."

"Seel, I choose you–"

"–Typhlosion, go!"

Throwing down their pokeballs, their warriors exploded onto the field and a fiercely cold wind blew in from nowhere– almost as if it to personify the bitterness of their impending battle. In all likeliness, though, someone probably just turned down the thermostat.

"Hraghh, Typhlosion, attack!" Lyra cried, outstretching her fingers over her face. "Solar Flare!"

"W-what?" Pryce said. "Solar Flare? What kind of move is that? I've never head of such a thing–"

Spin-dashing into the air, Typhlosion bursted into a ball of fire for a brief moment and left a sun-like after-image burning way up high.

"–Oh, I see. Trying to fool me by renaming your attacks!" Pryce said. "If you think this will grant you victory, think again. Seel, use Icy Wind!"

"Typhlosion, in an arc, Thunder Punch!"

With blustery Icy Wind hurling from Seel's mouth, Typhlosion cut on through before it could hit, charged his fist with crackling electricity, and punched Seel with a jumping bolt on contact. Squealing from the high-voltage shock, Seel fizzled out and fainted.

"I see!" Pryce said, recalling Seel and readying his next pokeball. "You circumvented my Seel's Thick Fat by using an element other than fire. But that was just a warm-up. Let's see how your Thunder Punch stands against stronger contenders. Go! Piloswine!"

"Contender! Such a delicious-sounding word," Lyra said, readying another pokeball as well. "But for me, that was also just a warm-up, or more so– a set up. Typhlosion, come back! Kneebiter, go!"

When the little Sunflora beamed down onto the field right after his impressively shaggy Piloswine, Pryce laughed. "Bringing a grass-type to an ice-type match? This is going in my favor, you know."

"Hmm. But the sun is still shining brightly," Lyra said, watching intently as Kneebiter raised her face and leaves up toward the powerful after-image left behind by Typhlosion. Soaking up its intense rays, a shock wave shook the ground and Kneebiter began to scream and power-up.

Pryce couldn't believe his eyes. "That little pokemon is wielding a horrendous battle aura! What is going on? Is she harnessing the power of that fake sun? Impossible!"

"SUUUUUU," Kneebiter screamed, quivering her leaves and causing tiny chunks of ice to levitate and swirl around her.

"Kneebiter, hragghh!" Lyra screamed with her, engaging in a bout of bizarre noise-making.

"FLOOOOOOO!"

"Raaaaaghrgh!"

"Nnnnnnn!"

"Ergrrrrrhg!" Lyra grunted, but then stopped to explain herself: "Sorry, but this could take awhile. Maybe even five whole episodes."

"Five whole episodes? Are you kidding me?!" Pryce held his hands out in confusion. "Wait… Episodes?"

"FLOOOOOR!"

"Uwaggghh!" Lyra and Kneebiter's screaming and grunting continued into the fierce night.

~To be continued…~


*Acts like this story hasn't been on hiatus for almost a year*

H-hey guys!

*pelted by rocks*