The whole time, as she faced both of the remaining gyms in succession, and then began the grueling chain battle with the Elite Four, there was a suspicion within her, growing the way that poffin dough rose overnight, that Lance was someone much more powerful than she had first imagined. If he wasn't a gym leader, was he Elite Four? If he wasn't Elite Four . . . But somehow, she had never imagined that when the time came for her to face Lance in battle, that she would win.

The next few moments flew by in a daze of shock and amazement. He was saying something about the new Champion—she was too dazed from the battle to remember a word he said—and all she could think about was the genuine happiness shining out of his eyes. Then there was the flurry of activity as DJ Mary and Professor Oak burst through the doors, Mary's questions flying at her with all the precision and speed of a bullet seed attack, and the thrill like electricity that went coursing through her veins when Lance, his hand warm and kind on her shoulder, steered her into a back room she hadn't even previously noticed, and away from all the noise and fuss.

It wasn't until they stood solemnly side-by-side, watching in silence as the machine in the Hall of Fame recorded her name and her pokemon's for generations to come, that she glanced over and saw that there was something else behind the smile which still lingered at the corners of his mouth. There was a wistful sorrow to the expression—and she realized that this was the first time she had gotten a chance to really look at him. The first time they had met, it was in the pouring rain, and then each time after that, she had been too busy focusing on other things to pore over his facial features. But now, she could tell . . . he wasn't old. But he lacked the freshness of youth, and something about the way the air of authority settled around him easily, like a mantle, suggested he had been doing this for a while.

She was struck, suddenly, by a sense of distance. The difference in age between him, an experienced trainer, and her, someone still in her teens; the vastness of his life experience compared to hers; the fact that he was the Champion. Had been the Champion.

When the machine had finished, and she had retrieved her pokeballs, he turned to face her again, his face showing nothing but simple kindness. He gave her that small, restrained smile again, with that touch of wistfulness in his eyes. "So, will you stay on here as Champion? You've earned it, you know."

In that instant, she knew, she knew, that Lance didn't think of her the way she wished and that he never had. Despite being seventeen, she still knew the way men looked at someone they were interested in. She had seen that something more, that spark of interest, the hint of fire somewhere deep in the eyes, from time to time in trainers her age she had beaten, and also the unmistakable look when someone's eyes flicked ever-so-briefly downward, tracing down the lines of her body, and before they traveled up again to her face.

Not that she expected Lance to look her up and down. But in the way he looked at her, there was nothing beyond politeness and friendliness. It was the way she imagined an older brother would look at her, if she had one. The look of a person in whose mind not even of the shadow of the thought of Lyra-as-a-woman had ever crossed.

Why would it have? She was seventeen.

"I . . . um . . ." she stammered, looking down.

He waited her for a moment, but when no answer was forthcoming, asked, "Do you want to hear how I became Champion?"

She nodded.

"Not many people realize it, but I didn't win this position, actually," he confessed. "Thirteen years ago, I was one of the Elite Four—the fourth, to be precise. That year, there were two young pokemon trainers, both of them incredibly talented, racing each other though Kanto to try to become the greatest pokemon trainer ever. One of them, named Green, became the first one ever to defeat all of the Elite Four and claim the title of Champion."

There was that wry smile again. "Then on the same day, barely a few minutes after, another trainer came through, and defeated all of us again, and the brand-new Champion, Green. But when he was asked if he wanted to stay and defend the title of Champion, he just shrugged his shoulders and said he wasn't interested in that sort of thing. Green also refused to take back the title after his friend had defeated him, and went back to his hometown. That left us without a Champion, so in the end, we ended up recruiting another member to add to the Elite Four, and I stepped up to the position."

His eyes came back from the distance to meet hers; she gazed at him attentively, without saying anything. "This isn't boring you, is it?"

"No!" she shook her head vigorously.

"Well, as you can probably see, ever since I was a kid, I always loved dragons . . . I know everyone says this kind of thing about their pokemon type, but I was just captivated by their majesty and power. I really wanted to believe in the invincibility of dragons, that they could stand up to any challenge. But in the end . . . Green, Red, and you, too—you all used teams with a balance of types to reach the top. In the end, that's just what's strongest."

His sadness when he talked about the need for a multi-type champion, filled her chest with pain, a sympathetic ache as she imagined what it must cost him to confess that the dragons which he had loved and admired from his youth weren't the strongest after all.

He continued, "So, I thought, the Indigo League really needs someone like that, someone who can use and understand every type of pokemon, who can adapt to the situation to overcome any kind of attack that comes at them, so that people who come through the Elite Four to fight the Champion will be fighting against someone who is the very best. Someone who has the strongest possible kind of team. I always knew that someday I would have to hand over my position to the next generation. So . . . will you stay?"

For a long moment she looked at him, emotion welling within her. It wasn't enough for tears to spill over, but enough that he could probably see it shimmering in her hazel eyes. She opened her mouth, struggling for words. "I . . . I want to travel." She hadn't known herself that it was what she was going to say until the words came out of her mouth, but with them came the complete conviction that that was right. She wasn't ready to commit to tying herself down to Indigo Plateau, to staying in one place all the time to be available to defend her title against challengers-not when there were so many different regions to see and fresh challenges to face.

But more importantly, the knowledge of the vast difference between his age and hers, that he could not possibly have the kind of feeling for her that she had for him, made her feel the presence of an enormous, vast gulf. An abyss wider than the great, frozen hole in faraway Unova she had seen pictures of in books. Somewhere in her mind, there sprang up an image of what it would be like accepting the position of Champion, always being near Lance, having him encouraging her every day, and having to keep her feelings for him caged up inside herself. If it was going to be like that, she would rather go somewhere far away. Maybe someday when she was older, things might be different, but she was seventeen, and he was someone who had been Champion for most of her life.

"All right, well, that's understandable, too," he said. His face showed some slight traces of disappointment as he nodded, but no surprise. "You want to see the world when you're young, right? Kanto would probably be a good place to start. The gym leaders are strong, and both Green and Red are still there; it should be a good challenge for you. But you're always welcome to come take back your title if you want to."

She nodded. "I think I'll try that. Kanto, I mean."

"Well, then." They stood and looked at each other for a moment, neither knowing how to proceed.

"I guess I'd better be going."

"There's a door over here," he said, searching for a few moments before pressing a spot on the wall indistinguishable from the others, causing a section of the wall to rotate slightly, revealing itself as a door. "You can use this way to slip away from all the reporters."

"Thanks, Lance," she said, moving towards the door. "And, um." She and turned to face him again.

Lance was the right one to be Champion. When she had come to that last battle, the battle with the Champion—with Lance—seeing the majesty of the huge, scale-covered beast appearing in a blaze of light, roaring its challenge, had been just what, she thought, any trainer would wish for in their heart. The fight with Lance and his dragons had been awe-inspiring, thrilling, dramatic . . . she could not imagine anything else that would make a more fulfilling end to someone's journey to become the strongest pokemon trainer they could possibly be.

"I . . . I like dragons. I like it that the Champion uses dragons. It makes the fight more, um . . ." she gestured in the air, making desperate circles with her hands as if that could pull out the feelings that were so clear inside her brain and turn them into words. "More dramatic? More majestic? I think . . . I understand what you said, about multi-types being stronger, but I think that fighting a dragon-type Champion is the best possible experience a trainer could have."

Until that moment, Lance had never realized how a kind word from someone could literally make you feel warm. But looking at the new ex-Champion, the third to turn down the title, as she struggled with words, and hearing that simple phrase, "I like dragons," spoken in her quiet voice, filled his chest with warmth.

"Thank you, Lyra," he said.

She nodded gravely, her eyes meeting his for the briefest fraction of a second, a flash of luminosity, before the door shut with a tiny snick behind her.

"Wait!" He reached out a hand futilely as a sudden thought entered his mind.

There was no way she would have heard him on the other side of the wall. He searched for the switch frantically, but in his flustered state he couldn't seem to find the concealed button, and by the time he finally did get the door open again to look outside, she was nowhere in sight, doubtless having flown away already.

He had forgotten to ask her pokegear number.

But somehow, he had a feeling he would see her again someday.

A/N:

First of all, to everyone, both regular commenters and everyone else reading this story, I want to apologize for taking such an extremely long time to upload the final chapter of this story. m(_ _)m While I feel like there are some additional transitional scenes I'd like to add before skipping immediately to the aftermath of Lyra's battle with Lance, ultimately, I felt it would be better to go ahead and publish the chapter as it is now rather than making everyone wait.

This story was always intended to end this way. While I'm doubtful I provided sufficient hinting or foreshadowing for readers to see it coming, nevertheless, I hope that despite its flaws this story can be helpful to someone out there who has gone through the pain and disappointment of a hope or dream (or maybe a crush) that could not be fulfilled.