A/N: Welp this took me much longer to get out then I hoped. Hopefully, it was worth the wait.

"WHYYYYY?" sobbed White.

And for once, Blake didn't have an answer.

Black immediately shifted closer to her on the couch and put his hand on her shoulder as White continued to sob into her hands. Blake sighed as he leaned back into the armchair he was occupying in Black's living room. Whitley hovered around the coffee table in the middle of the room nervously, clearly wanting to help, but unsure of what to do.

"Why did it have to end like this? I tried so hard! I did everything! EVERYTHING!" screamed White, before she broke down sobbing again.

"I know you did," said Black. "You never gave up on your dream."

"And look where it got me!" snapped White through her tears.

Blake deflated on the inside. This whole situation was a mess. How on earth had everything gone so wrong?

Blake hated this feeling. He had to do something. How had this all started? Blake started to go over the events of the previous six months in his mind.

It had started with Black's run on the Elite Four. He'd been close, so close, but had narrowly lost against Alder's team. He'd been close, extremely close. And then Iris had come past and eclipsed him, defeating Alder in a spectacular battle, not all that different from Black's battle, but with a different outcome. Black had been crushed. In Unova, there was a 5 year grace period for a new champion before they could be challenged, meaning that Black was going to have to wait. While Blake didn't quite understand Black's tremendous drive to become the champion, he did understand how invested he'd been in his dream.

Next it had been Whitley. While the reformed Team Plasma had endeavored to do their best to redeem their name, public opinion had not been kind and they'd been forced to publicly disband. Privately, many kept their old connections to friends and acquaintances, but publicly their careers and lives had been ruined. And Whitley had been one of the many affected. Blake could understand why people were so nervous, but he still wanted to help his friend and fellow dexholder. He knew Whitley. He might not know the rest of them, but he could personally vouch for her. Thankfully, the other Unova dexholders agreed with him and they all had worked together to make sure Whitley and her mom had a place to go. It wasn't the nicest place, but it would do in a pinch.

Meanwhile in the background, Blake had been having his own problems. His dream – to join the police force and become a detective had been stymied when legal issues had arisen from his previous work with his uncle's private investigator firm. Sure, he'd just been an intern, but apparently it was a problem, and now he needed to jump through several extra hoops to get in. Not that he'd told his friends. They had their own problems to worry about.

Perhaps it was the fact that they'd been forced apart. Well, that was probably giving them a bit too much credit. Honestly, they'd all gone their own ways to some extent. But even grouping up together again hadn't been able to save them. Or their dreams. It was too late, somehow. Blake didn't know what he was doing wrong, but he was still failing his friends.

Like White. Whose film studio hadn't been doing so well. With the funds to do one last film, she'd poured her heart and soul into it. And it had flopped. Blake couldn't understand for the life of him why it had flopped. White had made a great movie, but the numbers didn't lie. With no other options, White had been forced to close her studio, her pride and joy. Blake had been impressed at how well she'd been able to keep it together during the foreclosure process. He'd stepped in and helped her sell off the remaining assets to cover their remaining debts and had seen her throughout the entire process. She'd kept a brave face. And now that it was all over, that brave face finally cracked, a dam that had been holding up a reservoir of tears.

"Don't worry, White!" said Black. "I'm sure you'll get another chance at this! You always make a way! You'll always be Prez in my heart!"

"Thanks, Black," said White through her sniffles.

A click was heard from the kitchen.

"Oh! That must be the tea kettle! I'll be right back!" said Whitley, shooting off to the kitchen like a rocket.

Blake sighed as Black enveloped White in a hug, letting her cry on his shoulder.

"I'll go with her. Be right back."

Black nodded as Blake got up and followed Whitley into the kitchen. He was no good with all this emotional stuff. He needed to get away from all of the emotions and clear his mind so he could think.

Blake stepped into the kitchen as Whitley poured the hot water from the electric teakettle into a cup, and plopped two teabags in. She jumped when she saw Blake.

"Oh! I didn't see you there!" she said.

"It's all right."

"You looked like you're thinking really hard again," she said. "Is everything all right?"

"I was?" asked Blake, feigning innocence.

"You were," said Whitley. "Listen, I worked with you the longest, I know you and what your face looks like when you're thinking really hard. What were you thinking about? Is everything ok?"

Blake sighed. "All right, I was thinking. Listen, I don't know. How did this all go wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. Just six months ago, we were all on track, following our dreams. What happened to us? We had the truth, and we followed our ideals. What happened?"

"You're going back to what Lor…uh… N said."

"Yeah. Truth and ideals. We had the ideals for sure. Or at least I'm more sure we had our ideals. But what about the truth? We thought we had the truth. But did we actually?"

"What are you saying?"

"Did we lose focus on the truth? Or did we never have it in the first place? Were our dreams so lofty that we lost touch with reality?"

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"I don't think so…" said Whitley. "We never would have made it to where we were without some knowledge of the truth about ourselves and our situations. We all knew what could happen. We knew Black could lose to Alder. We knew White's studio could fail. We knew that…."

"The whole Plasma thing would work against you," said Blake grimly.

"Yeah… by the way, did you ever apply to join the International Police force?

Blake paused. He hadn't thought anybody would be asking that. What did he say? There was a moment of awkward silence. It was all Whitley needed to know.

"I'm sorry…." said Whitley. "I know it was really important to you…. You didn't fail because… you were busy helping all of us, was it?"

"It wasn't your fault," said Blake. "They didn't like the fact that I interned at my uncle's PI agency."

"I thought that was supposed to help you?" asked Whitley.

"I thought so too. Apparently not."

Whitley shook her head. "Maybe we didn't know the truth as well as we thought we did, then."

"But we all thought we did," said Blake. "That's the part that bugs me."

"Maybe we only knew part of the truth?"

"I don't think so. We all were doing pretty well for ourselves. I think this is just my PI instincts kicking in, but I keep thinking something's wrong. I don't know why though."

"You think somebody's trying to sabotage us?"

"I don't know. My instincts think so."

"You don't actually think that's possible?"

"Doubtful. Who would want to target us other than Ghestis' Team Plasma? And any of them who haven't been arrested are scared and running. It would be much more likely that one of them would just straight up attack us or try to ambush us if they wanted revenge."

Whitley nodded and paused. "I see."

The two stood in silence for a moment, pondering the possibilities.

"Ack, I can't think of anything. Sorry," said Whitley.

Blake ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "You're fine. It's not you. It just bugs me that I don't know what happened. I feel like I'm missing something, and I don't know what it is."

"You're a detective. Do you want to analyze all the records? Maybe the studio records for White or the battle footage for Black?"

"Already did. Nothing."

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know."

"But you always know something."

"I don't know right now. There's a piece missing. There's no reason all of us should be like this. There's no reason we all should have failed the way we did."

The two sat in silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to worry you excessively…." began Blake, but Whitley cut him off.

"No! Its no problem! I trust your judgement. Blake, you're my friend and I know that you're very smart. If you think something is not right, then I believe you."

Blake sighed. "I know I'm repeating myself, but something just feels off. Not based on any evidence. Well, yet. We'll see if anything turns up."

Whitley nodded in silence.

There was an awkward pause.

"We should probably get that tea back to White." said Blake.

"Yeah."

The two walked back into the, and Whitley handed White the cup of tea. She had composed herself somewhat, though she continued sniffling. Black looked at least somewhat relieved as Blake sat down, and White began sipping the tea.

"Are you feeling better?" asked Whitley.

"A little," sniffed White.

"Well, that's good!" said Whitley. Blake smiled but could feel that his smile was as fake as Whitley's. Hopefully she'd buy it.

He slumped back down into the chair.

"Are you two all right?" asked White, as she sipped the tea. "You seemed to be in the kitchen for a while. Were you talking about something?"

""Oh, it was just a thought I had," said Blake quickly. "Actually, it just dawned on me, it's getting to dinnertime. Do you want me to grab some carryout? You guys up for fish and chips?"

"That sounds good, thank you," said White.

Blake nodded. "I'll go make the order then."

Blake got up and walked out into the foyer, pulling his phone as he did, and quickly searched for a Galarian takeout place near their location.

Something wasn't right, and Blake knew it. He paused on the search page and took a deep breath. Nothing made sense right now. But there was no concrete reason to believe that any foul play was afoot. Who would target them? Were the other Dexholders being targeted? Were any of them safe? Were Professor Oak and Professor Juniper and Miss Crystal being targeted as well? Or were they even being targeted in the first place? Was he just chasing phantoms?

Blake shook his head. He couldn't afford to be doing this. Right now, he had nothing more than a hunch, and acting on it right now wasn't going to do him any good. Blake took a deep breath and returned his mind to the present. He clicked on the phone number, his phone beginning to ring as he put it to his ear.

Regardless of what was actually happening, he still had his team. They had watched out for each other during the Dexholder project and all of the Team Plasma business, and they'd all do it again in a heartbeat. Right now, they were hurting, and Blake needed to take care of them. Right now, his team needed a decent meal, and he could at least make that happen. He'd figure out what was going on behind the scenes later. Priorities were priorities.

Suddenly the phone on the other end was picked up and a tired voice came over the speaker.

"Hello, this is the Purple Ponyta, how may I help you?"

"Hi, I was wanting to place an order….."

So one of the few things about Pokemon Special that I have a hard time buying is Blake being a Police Superintendent at the age of 12. Like sure, White can run her own company, Moon can be a master medicine and poison expert, and I'll even buy Red and Pika finding a way to use electric moves on ground types. But Blake being a police superintendent? Nope, I do not buy this. Which is why I made him an aspiring detective here, this seems much more probable to me and hopefully captures the character's theme and essence but within the realm of possibility.