Some Sense of Right and Wrong
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A/N: Look, is anyone reading this? At all? It's been almost a month since I got any reviews for this story. If no one is reading this, I think I'm just going to scrap it. :( But here we have the fourth chapter of Some Sense of Right and Wrong-probably the last one. Now, like I promised, we finally have a little action and suspense. Please enjoy.

A/N: No, nothing new to warn you about. Still safe

A/N: I only own Martha, Marie, Marshall, Benito, and Julianne. Everything else belongs to the bigwigs at Nintendo. They own it. Not me.

Some Sense of Right and Wrong
-Walls
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::Two days since the events of the previous chapter::

"MARTHA? Where are the towels?" Drake yelled. He was getting ready to go back to work at the gym and stadium, after the death of Belle. Drake was still devastated, but he had decided that it would be best to get on with his life. He had a family to support, after all. They needed him. Even though he still needed Belle...

"They're in the dryer in the laundry room!" Martha yelled back, getting Marie her backpack and shoes so that she could to school. Martha herself was dressed in a a skirt and blouse, going to work as a secretary for one of the many Silph Development Centers in the Orange Islands.They had sprung up all over the place these past few years, and most of them seemed to be working on the same thing. But whatever it was, Martha didn't know, since she wasn't allowed past the main lobby. But a lot of the people who came in were scientists and researchers clad in standard white lab coats. There were also dozens of deliveries of "organic material" and live pokemon. All of the people who called or visited seemed polite enough, nice enough...but there was something off about them, in their demeanor, sometimes, sly ad secretive. In their voice, smug and softspoken, or sibilant, occasionally. Most often, though it was in their eyes. Some cold core, some icy cruelness, even though those eyes were often long-lashed and beautiful...

There was just something off about them.

But even though it was very unnerving, she didn't say anything. It was a safe job, it paid well, the work wasn't particularly stressful, and the hours were nothing shocking. For some reason she could not fathom, the Development Centers stayed open twenty-four hours a day...bizarre. No kind of research center stayed open that long. Martha couldn't help but wonder why. Why would it stay open? Why, when she passed the building at night, were there more cars there than the day? What were they doing in there? And why were they hiding it?

Meanwhile, Drake had retrieved some towels from the Dryer and was finally taking a nice hot shower. As he shampooed his hair, Drake psyched himself up to take on the day. 'I can do this. I can make it throught the day without breaking down. I can behave normally. I can I can I can!' He prepared himself.

As he walked out of the shower stall, towel around his waist, he heard Martha's car pulling out of the drive, going to the Silph center after dropping off Martha at Dratini Elementary school. Drake didn't have to be at the gym until 9 am, and it was about 8:15 right now. He could afford some time to relax. Drying off as he walked to the master bedroom, Drake threw the towel on the floor and reached in his closet, rummaging around for an outfit.

After about five minutes of searching, Drake grabbed a pair of loose olive green pants, a burnt-orange color T-shirt, and a matching green utility vest. Running a comb through his hair, he walked downstairs and poured himself a bowl of corn flakes. Reaching over to the counter, Drake grabbed the newspaper and the coffee pot pouring a mug as he glanced over the headlines of the Pummelo Today.

"The leaders of the acclaimed Indigo and Johto Leagues and their families are heading here in a few months, to host the first World League tournament..I knew that, I'm part of the main event, as the leader of the Orange League..I didn't think Tracey had it in him to be a leader of the Johto league-It's amazing what that boy has done with his life." Tracey had gone to Johto, after Ash had returned with tales of the amazing new pokemon he had discovered. Tracey had decided that now was as good a time as any to test his skills as a trainer. From what he gleaned, Tracey had had a hard time of it in the beginning, but something had happened, to motivate him to aim for the leadership of the Johto league at the tender age of twenty-four. Drake himself wouldn't have believed it possible if he hadn't heard how Ash Ketchum, the first opponent to defeat him, had gained a post on the Elite Five at the age of nineteen, a year before Tracey.

If Ash was coming, then that meant that Misty was also in attendance. Even since he had heard Misty scream at Ash at the top of her lungs, he had known that they were going to get married one day. Now, it seemed, they were, if not married, then at least engaged. Misty had been the leader of the Cerulean City Gym in Kanto for a while, but she also dabbled in acting, just like all of the Waterflowers. Now that she lived with Ash by the Indigo Plateau; Drake hadn't the bloodiest clue what she was doing now.

Turning to the Business and Medicine sections, Drake discovered that the great Professor Ivy had discovered a new way to treat brain damage in pokemon so that they would still be able to fight in tournaments. Drake shook his head. Ivy had been such a good soul, but when her interns had left her to pursue their own careers, her research had been greatly, greatly set back, and she had lost a lot of funding as a result. Now, she did a lot of work with funds from gyms and leagues over the world, mostly directed at finding new and better ways for pokemon to harm each other. 'It's so sad...the old Ivy would never have sold her integrity like this. But I guess the temptation of keepng her office and the pokemon was too great. I think that she should get a job at one of those Silph Development Centers, they'd pay through the nose to have her.'

Reading further, Drake discovered why Silph didn't want her to work with them: They had signed a multi-million-dollar contract with a Pokemon scientist and breeder who Drake had seen frequently on the news and in magazines: an ex-gym leader from Kanto, Brock Flint. He was an expert in the field of care and training of Pokemon. Even giants like the Elite Five, and Prima listened when Brock spoke.

Silph had just bought the rights to some of his research on the breeding and cloning of Pokemon, including some fairly 'exciting finds' on Pokemon genetic structure. Incidentally, Brock would also be traveling to the Orange Islands to oversee whatever they were going to do with his research.

'Hunh,' Drake thought, putting the newspaper down for a moment. "It seems like every big name in Pokemon will be coming to the Islands soon, particularly this one. Hopefully the Prof's Elm and Oak won't come, then all our resident Trainers will hit the roof.' he thought, although he did hope that both would come, he hadn't spoken to them in quite a while. He'd be grateful not to see Oak's grandson, Gary, anytime soon though. Gary was an incredible trainer, possibly even greater than Ash (though he heard they'd lost touch about five or six years ago), but Drake couldn't stand him, period. For one, Gary was a big-time sleaze, practically bringing home girls in droves, or so he picked up from some of Martha's magazines. He also had an ego the size of Johto, presumably from being great at everything he tried. Last he heard, Gary had been becoming a sort of 'teen sensation', which meant emulation by teens everywhere. Drake could only hope that the insanity wouldn't spread to the regular trainers and assistants at the Pokemon gym.

Speaking of the Gym, Drake really needed to get moving! If he didn't hurry, he was going to be late. Throwing his used dishes in the sink, Drake raced to the Pokemon training room. He had given the Pokemon their food before taking his shower, so he felt that theys hould be done and playing by now. Running into the room, Drake stopped cold. His five pokemon -five- were indeed playing. But the large window in the room was tightly closed, the curtains hanging limp.

A lump rose in Drake's throat. You see, every day Drake had come to this room, to pick up his pokemon and go to the gym. And every day, Belle had been sitting in front of that opened window, the breeze from the sea flowing in, fluttering the curtains around her, looking at the sky with rapture. And once Drake had announced that it was now time to leave, she would fire up her wings and fly out that window, gracefully exercising, and arriving at the gym at the same time Drake did.

Now, however, the window was shut. No one gazed out of it expectantly. No one waited to fly. None of the pokemon even dared to touch what had been Belle sacred spot. It was just an empty patch of carpet in front of a window.

Because Belle was dead.

Feeling an emotional breakdown coming, Drake firmly wrenched his mind away from any windows whatsoever, firmly willing himself to remain calm, to forget about any damned windows, to erect another barrier between him and the pain.

"Come on, let's go," Drake told his pokemon, in a carefully controlled voice. Normally Drake spoke to his pokemon with honest enthusiasm, becuase he loved being with them. But now, his voice was flat and emotionless. Drake hadn't even tried to inject some fake joy in his voice, the pokemon would have noticed and worried. However, Drake's pokemon were more perceptive than he thought. They could tell that he was trying not to fall apart. And if something as minor as a closed window could send hm teetering to the brink, than what would happen at the gym, at the stadium? It was with a heavy heart that the pokemon were recalled to their pokeballs.

With his pokemon safely placed in his pockets, Drake put on his running shoes and jogged toward the gym. It was what he always did. True, he had a car, he could always drive there, but he chose to warm up by running the 2 km to the gym.

However, it might have been wiser of Drake to have driven to Pummelo gym that day. You see, as he had been running, the path petered out into a large meadow and picked up again at the other side. As Drake ran through the field, he was stricken with a memory. His steps faltered, and he hit the dirt and huddled into a ball of overflowing emotion.

**Flashback**

A fifteen-year old Drake ran along side Belle, her massive form dwarfing his shorter, slender form. You see, she had just evolved today, and had just grown her wings. Drake was trying to teach her how to fly, because, just like just hatched birds, she wasn't born knowing, it had to be taught to her.

"Come on Belle!" He yelled, laughing as he ran, next to her. "Flap your wings!" As she was running Belle began to flap her wings, slowly at first, but speeding up as she got the hang of it.

"Let's go!" Drake yelled laughing near maniacally as he gathered himself for a jump. "Fly!" he yelled like a child, as he leapt into the air as the same as Belle, his arms outstretched like wings. But while his jump evetually lost momentum and he fell to the ground, Belle didn't. She kept on going up and up...

Drake rolled over on his back on the ground laughing with joy. And as he looked up and saw Belle soaring over head, his eyes widened with his smile. He lept up again, swing ing his fist into the air with triumph, laughing and whooping like a maniac.

"Hah HAH! Yes! You're flying Belle! You're FLYING!! Look at you, ha hah, just look at you, you're FLYING! Yes! Yes! Ha ha ha; you did it! YOU DID IT!"

Drake was watching her as she flew over him, wheeling overhead in a rush of joy and pride and exhilaration. He was leaping into the air, like he was going to fly, too. And while his body would never become airborne, his heart was flying with Belle, matching her turn for turn.

**End Flashback**

Tears were running down his cheeks as Drakes straightened out to a kneeling position. Stroking the field with his fingers, he picked up some of it and let it fly away with the breeze. "This was the field where we learned to fly." he said quietly, sadly, as he watched the dust slip through his fingers, just like Belle had in the end. Drake looked up, almost expecting to see her soaring overhead, flying above him. But all he saw were some Pidgey, following their parent Pidgeotto on one of their first few flights.

Drake rubbed the trail of tears from his face and got back up; still bleary eyed, he strated to run again. Slow and stumbling at first, but he sped up, and his eyes cleared, his vision cold as his speed increased, almost like he was running for his life, running away from his memory.

Behind him as he raced from the meadow, a large Skarmory swooped down on the family of Pidgey and Pidgeotto. It drove away the Pidgeotto, leaving large bloody gashes with it's razor sharp wings, and when the Pidgeotto had fled as fast as their wings could carry them, the Skarmory attacked the Pidgey that hadn't scattered, and flew off carrying their mangled bodies in its talons.

Over at the Gym, two of the trainers/assistants squabbled on the decorations of the gym, an older, tough boy with a fondness for karate and fighting type pokemon, named Marshall, and a thin, tall kid with dark hair and many Dark and Ghost type Pokemon, named Benito. The gym was decorated with statues of Dratini, Dragonair, and Dragonite, and Benito thought it would be more considerate to Drake to take down the statues of Dragonite, so as not to cause any emotional breakdowns. Marshall disagreed.

"Look, Marshall, I'm just trying to put myself in Drake's place. I wouldn't want to see the face of my best friend, if he died, all over the place, until I was ready to deal with it. And two days is not enough to like, get over it enough to do that!"

"Well, Benny, just listen to me. I understand you're trying to help-"

"Damn straight,"

"-but I've known Drake longer than you have, and he's one of them people who's reminded more of something if he don't see it."

"But this isn't something like groceries or laundry, this is big, and he can't be expected to treat such a major loss like a triviality,"

"Trivi-wha?"

"Something petty or unimportant."

"Whatever. Still, we should try not to disturb his day too much, we should keep everything the way it was. He don't need any more stress."

"A missing statue is stress?"

"Yes it is! M'granddad, he went through somethin' called post-traumatic stress somethin' or other when he got into a car crash, an' he threw an' absolute fit when we put alla his models an' pictures of fancy cars an' racecars into storage, he likes to collect car stuff, y'see?. Familiarity is comfort."

Benito folded his arms over his narrow chest, he knew he wasn't going to win this one. When Marshall reverted to his Cianwood-country-style speech (he was a native of Johto), it always meant he was getting passionately fierce, or as he would say, 'all riled up' about something, and then there was almost no reasoning with him without using force. One of Marshall's character flaws.

"Fine, you win, but if Drake breaks down in tears, don't say I didn't warn you."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Drake ran up, somwhat dirty from his slight breakdown in the field. He walked into the gym and was greeted immediately by several statues of Dragonites in flight. His eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. Benito and Marshall noticed and tensed. But Drake shook this from his mind. 'No emotion, Drake' he reminded himself. 'That's the only way you're going to survive today.' Clearing the emotion from his mind, Drake forced a smile that felt very fake to him, and greeted Benito and Marshall cheerfully.

"Good morning, you two, lets get to work." He walked past them. They knew that by 'get to work' Drake meant open the gym, get all the lights on, the equipment out, and unlock all the doors, and then begin to train.

Benito and Marshall walked toward the front to get the main doors and lights on. The only walked in silence for a moment, and then began to fight in whispers.

"Did you see? he was upset, I told you we should've taken down the statues!" Benito whispered furiously.

"Naw Benny, he were just mad, cause he could tell we were fightin' an' he don't like us to fight n' all," Marshall rebutted.

"Well, we wouldn't've *been* fighting, would we, if you'd just listened to me?" Benito replied in a rather nasty tonme of voice, he wasn't too fond of being called Benny.

Drak chuckled to himself, every time he looked, those two were always arguing about something or other. He knew that they thought he couldn't hear their argument, so he said, in a carefully offhand and casual voice, "It's never too early to train for the World Tournament, you know." That stopped the argument right there. Both boys were ecstatic about the tournament, they frequently got so excited about it that Drake felt if they were a few years younger they'd wet themselves. They idolized Bruno and Karen, respectively, for their masterful training of that particular type of pokemon. Both boys were thrilled that they had the chance to meet their heroes, however, that would only be if they trained their pokemon very well.

The gym opened in record time.

Inside, Marshall and Benito were warming up their pokemon, they'd probably provoke themselves into a 'friendly' battle within the hour. Today, Drake chose to fight outside, so that he could play some music without disturbing Benito and Marshall, who were playing their own music inside, 'The Cup of Life' by Ricky Martin, an old song, but a good one.

Calling out his pokemon, they all started to stretch as Drake played an even older song, 'Eye of the Tiger'. As part of their warm up, the all ran, or slithered, however you care to put it, around the perimeter of the outside gym. As Drake watched them run, he started to hum the song to himself. Unbeknownst to him, an Electric-type pokemon trainer named Julianne had been sneaking up on him, having just arrived a few minutes ago, and fleeing the interior of the gym, not because of the blaring music, but because of of the blaring argument Benito and Marshall were undergoing.

Julianne was about eighteen years old, with black hair underneath a fisherman hat. She wore baggy blue jeans and a yellow Puma tee. Her most prominent features were her sparkling turquoise eyes. Seeing that Drake was totally absorbed with watching his pokemon train, she decided to be a little evil. Standing on tiptoe next to his ear she screamed out the words to the song.

"EYE OF THE TIGER, YOU'RE THE CREAM OF THE-AACK!" Julianne yelped as Drake knocked her on her butt. He smirked at her; they had known each other about seven years and were good friends, she was like a little sister to him. "Good morning, Julianne. I see you've already decided that you want me to beat you yet again?" Drake replied, a little icily

Julianne grinned up at him cheekily. "S'a good thing you stopped me. I didn't know any more words to that song." Bouncing back up to her feet, Julianne continued. "No, I don't think I'll battle with you today. I'm going to go in there and train with those two once the warzone has cleared up." Drake smiled knowingly. Benito and Marshall's fights went in cycles, pretty soon they'd wear each other out and be receptive to outside influence and concerns. They fought like cat and dog, you'd never guess that they were such good friends.

Julianne walked over to the other end of the arena. When Drake couldn't see her anymore, she dropped the smile and let her feelings of worry and fear show. Drake may be emotionally strong, but not even he could just take something like Belle's death so lightly. She suspected that he was coping by not letting anything affect him. It was rather obvious to her from the detatched affection he'd shown her a few moments ago. It was partially why she wasn't going to train with him today. She wouldn't be able to keep from asking him about Belle's death, and he wasn't ready to deal with that just yet.

Drke sighed as Julianne walked away. Everybody seemed to be treating him carefully, like he was made of glass and would break. He knew that their intentions were for the best, and their actions, in the long run, would probably be the best option, but right now Drake didn't want to let them out of his sight, out of where he could see them, hear them, smell them, touch them. He had an irrational sensation that if they left him, it would be for good. He could control it, that was no trouble, but it still ate away at him, along with his sorrow and guilt, for the rest of the day.

By the end of the day, Drake was mentally and physically exhausted. He and his pokemon had gone through a rigorous day of training, though very satisfying. However, some of the other trainers in the gym had not been as discreet as Benito, Marshall, and Julianne about the death of Belle. There had been sincere, sorrowful, expressions of their sorrow for him, and how they hoped he'd be doing better, the last thing he needed right now. Right now he needed to leave that subject be until he was ready to confront it.

By eight o'clock that evening, Drake was bidding the last of the trainers good-bye and good night and hope to see you again tomorrow. Walking back in, Drake saw Benito and Marshall begin to put the equipment away in to the starage rooms. Drake told them to stop, that he'd do it, but he yawned midway through, and Benito and Marshall asked him to repeat it.

"Eh? what was that, Drake?" Marshall said, with a touch of concern for him. Drake had had a rough day.

"I said not to worry about it, I'll clean up." Drake replied, stifling another yawn.

"Are you sure?" Benito asked, concerned like Marshall. "I mean, you haven't had the greatest day.."

"I'll be fine, Benito. Now go home, it's getting late."

" 'Kay," they said at the same time, grabbing their jackets and walking out the door, bickering gently as they went.

Drake proceeded to close up quickly. Marie would have to go to bed soon, and he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, since he almost never got to see her normally, and barely at all recently. He had a lot of catching up to do.

Drake had just killed the lights and was in the process of locking up when he had the oddest sensation that someone was with him. Though he couldn't imagine what a burgler would want in a gym, he turned around slowly, not wanting to provoke an attack. Except for a square of bright moonlight from a skylight, the gym was almost completely black. But Drake could just barely make out the outline of a man a few feet away from the skylight.

"Show yourself," Drake commanded firmly, doing his best to appear strong to deter any attacks so that he could throw this bum out on the street as fast as possible and get home to his family. (A/N: Whew! Quite a sentence.)

"Hmm, " the stranger said. "Should I?" He asked whimsically "Should I step into the light? Hmm.. Yes, I think I shall, yes.." And with that, this odd man stepped into the square of moonlight, showing himself to be a man in what looked like his fifties, of average height (or short to Drake), and relatively thin. (A/N: Think Gwen Khan from Outlaw Star) His grey eyes were beautiful and sparkled like diamonds, almost unnaturally bright. His eyelashes were also very dark, very full, and extremely long.

"What do you want?" Drake asked, still keeping the forceful tone of voice, although he was very surprised. He hadn't expected such a frail older man, and to be honest, he wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to throw him out now, that might hurt him pretty badly, and he was just an old man.

"Bossy, are we?" the stranger said, but it was a statement instead of a question. "Hmm..What do I want? What do I want? No, no, that will never do. " The older man's eyes rolled up, as though thoughtful. "No, no, the question, Drake, is what do you want?"

"I want you to get out so I can go home to my family."

"Yes yes, but that's not all you want, now, is it?" The old man leered at him in a very unpleasant way. Drake felt shivers traverse his spine, accompanied with the awful feeling that this old man knew something about Drake that Drake himself didn't know.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Drake's voice quivered slightly.

"It's so sad," The old man said, seemingly changing the subject. "So pretty, wasn't she? So beautiful, just like her name." Drake inhaled sharply, this man was talking about Belle! "She was loyal to you for so long. You two had a special bond, I admit I didn't think it was possible for a human and a pokemon to love each other so much. You two were the perfect partners, you were so well bonded...and of course, because Belle was so smart, so skilled, so strong." Tears were springing to Drake's eyes at this man's words. "But she wasn't strong enough to avoid the lung-rot, was she? No, no. Her skills were not of the kind needed to turn it out. Belle could not battle this disease, like she battled any other pokemon. So she died." Drake was really fighting to hold back the sobs, caused by this old man's hypnotic words. "One of the mightiest pokemon alive, turned out by a microbe too small to be seen with the naked eye. Lung-rot killed her, but you blame yourself." The old man's tone of voice changed at this, before it had been casual and slow, now, it was gaining an edge, an edge of harshness. "You feel it was your fault. Your fault she contracted the disease. Your fault that you could not find a treatment. Your fault that she died in agony, losing all feeling in her body, pain in her chest like she couldn't bear, but was it from the disease," The old man paused, his voice had been rising to a crescendo, and what he said next was in a low, quiet voice. "Or was it from you? Or was it from the knowledge that you, you, who she loved like her brother, was the cause of such pain? Drake, what killed her, in the end? Lung-rot, or heartbreak?"

Drake was kneeling on the floor, his face in his hands, sobbing freely. Every word the old man was saying rung true to him. The old man leaned in closer, seeing that this would be the best way to inflict more pain on his victim.

"You know you won't live with yourself, with this guilt. How could you? Even if everyone else says that it was not your fault, that you could have done nothing to prevent it, it doesn't matter, because to you, you are guilty, and that's all the reality there will ever be. You can't live with the feeling that you caused her death. You can't. You must make amends. You must redeem yourself, even if it's only to your eyes alone."

Redeem yourself...the words echoed around Drakes head, they rang true, so true, so perfectly clear. As though a fog had been lifted and now he could see. In a quavering voice, Drake asked, "How?"

The words the old man spoke next would shatter every crumbling wall he had left. They were the words that would destroy him, his family, his home, his life. They were the very words that changed the world.

Smiling like pure evil, the old man leaned in, and spoke.

"...To be continued..."
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Ohh! I'm evil, yes I know! Hahaha! But well, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I'll love you to death! PLEASE! I'm begging! I typed all of that vast chapter, I deserve something for my troubles. Well, byebye, and remember: Sex is not the answer. It is the question. Yes is the answer. -Swami X