The basement was, if anything, more quiet and deserted than it had been the previous evening. I supposed that most of the trainers who had been down there had sought out the comparatively friendly atmosphere of the lobby during the daylight hours. The basement was not exactly gloomy, but it was very obviously designed for storage and for sleeping, and made no attempt to do more than the bare minimum necessary to accomodate these functions. As such, it was not the sort of place where most humans or Pokemon would spend their time if given a choice, and I was virtually alone once I descended the stairs.

Alone was good. Alone was what I wanted.

The young man was still seated at the desk reading his paperback novel. I couldn't tell how far his reading had progressed since I had last passed him, but such observations were not a priority of mine. The tingling sensation was growing more insistentent, blossoming into a ceaseless prickling that slowly ran from my head and neck over my back and down my legs, like some sort of thick fluid covering me. It was not in and of itself an entirely unpleasant feeling, and under different circumstances I might have felt differently about it, but what it portended filled my mind with sheer terror and drove any possible curiosity from my thoughts. All I knew was that what had happened in the woods that day was about to happen again, and if anyone else were to see it, everything would be over.

The man paid me no real notice. He glanced up at the sound of my approach, presumably recognized me, and went back to reading his novel.

Where would I be alone? The intersection had four branches, one of which was the way I had just come. Of the other three, I was familiar with only two: the left hallway, which led to the Trainer area, and the right hallway, which led to the sleeping areas for Pokemon not in the care of the hospital facilities upstairs. Either route carried with it the distinct possibility that another individual would be present, dashing any hopes I might have of solitude. Offered two equally unappealing choices, I opted for the unknown: the third hallway, which continued straight on ahead for a short distance before taking a 90-degree right turn. I skirted the desk and chair and headed down the corridor at a trot, hoping that nobody more alert than the desk clerk would hear the noise of my hooves and come to investigate.

As I might have suspected from knowing the contents of the other two corridors, this one seemed to be devoted to storage. Turning the corner brought me to a long, broad hallway with doors spaced at semi-regular intervals along its walls. At the end of the hallway was another intersection with what looked like some sort of freight elevator. Best of all, it was deserted.

I rushed to the first of the doors and tried the handle with my teeth. It was securely locked. So was the next one I tried, and the one after that.

The handle of the fourth door turned easily.

I found myself in a dimly lit room, with floors and walls of unpainted concrete and rows of shelves that stretched to the ceiling. The shelves were laden with wooden crates and large canvas bags, most of which bore stenciled labels declaring their contents to be various types of Pokemon feed. The contents of the room were more or less outside of my concern, so long as they included no living beings other than myself.

A few steps into the room, I stopped shakily and tried to compose myself, but it was no use. The pressure inside of me had built to the point where I could no longer control it. Abruptly, I screamed and my body began to convulse as bolts of lightning radiated not just from my mouth, but from what seemed like every point on my skin. For a few brief seconds, I was the center of what seemed like an inferno. Thousands of volts of current streamed from me to the shelves, utility conduits, and lighting fixtures that ringed the room. The dazzling brilliance of the electric display flooded the room with a light that seemed brighter than the sun.

The flood of sensation associated with this massive discharge was too much for me to handle. My vision flickered and dimmed rapidly as I struggled not to be overwhelmed, to no avail. I felt my legs sway underneath me, then give way, and I collapsed heavily to the floor. Then the blackness consumed me, and I knew no more.

***

((Ponyta, are you all right?))

The sound of the voice was the first stimuli my brain had registered since I passed out. The next was the sensation of a cold nose prodding me. I gave a gasp of surprise that probably came out too quietly to be heard, and I tried to edge away from whoever it was.

((Ponyta? Did you just move? Are you okay? I'm going to go get the nurse in just a moment if you don't show any signs of coming around.))

With supreme effort of will, I forced one eyelid open a crack. What seemed like a brilliant light flooded into my eyeball, blinding me.

((Are you awake?))

A large, indistinct reddish-orange shape appeared in my field of vision. As I tried to focus on it, the outlines of two ears became visible, along with vague impressions of facial features. I struggled to place the face.

((Ashley?))

The name, which was probably slurred and all but inaudible, nonetheless produced a reaction from the fuzzy orange shape. ((Yes! Yes! Ponyta! What happened? What was that?))

What was what?

I tried to remember. Something had happened that had caused me to black out. But what had it been? I pried and prodded at the memories that were just beginning to return.

And suddenly, I remembered. I knew.

((Ponyta?))

My vision was still blurry at best, and my muscles stubbornly resisted the idea of cooperation, but the fear of what had happened just a short while ago injected me with the energy I needed to start trying to move. With a loud snort, I dragged myself upright and began trying to get on my feet again.

Ashley had retreated a few steps and was looking at me with an expression that was becoming recognizable as grave concern. ((Ponyta, I wish you'd stop and talk to me. You shouldn't be trying to get up. Please don't move. You might hurt yourself.))

I registered her concern, but she was far too small to physically restrain me, and I simply blocked out her words for the several seconds and multiple false starts it took for me to achieve a reasonably stable standing position. Only then did I allow myself to look down at the fox. My vision seemed to still be steadily improving, as I could make out most of Ashley's features, but the labels on nearby creates remained illegible to my eyes.

((What... happened?)) I said slowly. ((I don't remember what happened.)) Which was only partly a lie. My memories of the event were unclear, but I remembered enough to already feel ashamed of what had happened. I felt filthy, almost as though my body were coated in a sort of thin, sticky fluid. The urge to immerse myself in water was becoming strong, just as it had before. Only here, there was no convenient beach.

((You don't remember what you did?))

Her words seemed to stop my heart in mid-beat. My gaze had wandered, as I was scanning my surroundings to get my bearings and attempt to ascertain the state of my eyesight, but it snapped back to Ashley the moment I heard her say that. ((What I... did?))

She shrank away another step, seemingly intimidated. I belatedly realized that I was glaring at her rather intently, and forced myself not to. Ashley was my friend, and I didn't want to become angry at her. Unfortunately, the moment I pushed the anger away, it was replaced with fear, which didn't feel much better.

((What you did. You know... with the... lightning....)) Ashley's voice trained off into silence on the last word.

My head jerked up, my eyes going to the door I had entered through. I had begun to push it shut behind me, but in my frenzied state I had neglected to make sure it closed completely. The door was open just a crack-- just wide enough for a Vulpix to push her nose in and stick her head into the room, and maybe wriggle through.

((Wha--wha--)) I looked back at Ashley, words suddenly escaping me. She was staring at the ground, obviously embarrassed. I could tell it was because she was my friend and didn't want to hurt me, but it was far too late for that. If I had thought myself miserable before, there were surely no adjectives for the state I found myself in now. I wished I could just melt into the floor and disappear. If there had been a way I could have killed myself at that moment, I am certain I would have done it. My eyes began to well up with tears.

((Ponyta. Please don't cry.))

I looked at Ashley and saw that she was once again looking up at me. Her own large eyes were beginning to show signs of tears as well.

((Why shouldn't I cry?)) I asked her.

((Because when I see you crying, it breaks my heart. I don't want you to be sad.))

Her concern for my feelings touched me, but it couldn't do anything about the fear and pain I felt surging through me. Nothing in the world could. ((You saw what I did.)) It was not a question.

There was a moment's pause. Then she nodded, hesitantly at first, then more firmly. ((Yes. I did see.))

((And?))

((And what? It frightened me a little, and I don't understand it, but it's no reason to cry.))

((What do you know? How can you say it's no reason to cry? You don't know anything at all.)) And then I did cry. My chest heaved and my entire body shook as I lowered my head to the ground and sobbed. The sticky, filthy feeling had spread inside my stomach, and I thought I would vomit at any moment, but I didn't. I just stood there and cried until I lacked the energy to cry anymore, then stood there with my eyes closed and head dangling limply. The grief and nausea had subsided for the moment, replaced by a feeling of complete numbness. I felt empty and hollow inside. Again I wished I could just fade away, right then and there.

A furry muzzle brushed against my face, and I felt a warm tongue licking my tears away. Ashley's face felt damp, but I couldn't tell if it was my dampness or her own. The small gesture caused a brief flicker of warmth in my thoughts, but that flicker could not drive away the coldness that hovered over me. I appreciated Ashley's concern, but it seemed futile. How could anybody help me?

((Will you at least tell me what's going on?)) Ashley murmured in my ear. Her tone carried no anger or disgust, only concern and confusion. ((You can trust me. You know that.))

I didn't want to. Trusting others could only lead to bad things. But a part of me knew that sooner or later, I had to trust someone, and I trusted Ashley more than anyone I had ever known. ((I wish I could tell you what's wrong,)) I said. ((I really do. But I don't understand it any better than you do.)) There was no need to say what it was.

((It looked like you were using an Electric-type attack.))

I couldn't bring myself to reply to that.

((Do you know Electric attacks? I thought that was impossible for Fire types, even with a TM.))

It's impossible, but here it is. ((That wasn't an attack,)) I managed to say. ((That was... I'm not sure what that was.)) In a very limited sense, it had indeed been an "attack" as we Pokemon knew them, but it had been so chaotic and uncontrolled that I had a hard time thinking of it the same way I considered a normal, voluntary attack move.

((Fair enough,)) she replied. ((But you didn't answer my question.))

I sighed. There was no getting anything past her. ((Yes,)) I admitted with extreme reluctance. ((I do know an Electric-type attack.))

Ashley didn't say anything for several seconds, apparently shocked into silence. I kept my eyes tightly shut, unable to open them for fear of making eye contact with her.

((How...?)) she whispered at last.

((What makes you think I know? Don't you think I wonder that myself?)) I stopped and forced myself to draw a halting, ragged breath. ((You know I haven't learned Fire-type attacks?))

((Yes. You... you told me that.))

((That's just it. I learned all my physical attacks at the appropriate levels, right when I was supposed to, but I never learned any Fire moves. Then one day I discovered that I knew an Electric attack.)) I didn't relate the exact circumstances surrounding my discovery. That event was still painful to think about, let alone describe to another individual.

((You discovered it?))

((Yes.))

She seemed confused. ((You mean you realized you had learned it? Like when you normally learn an attack or ability?))

((No, it wasn't like it normally feels. Not at all.)) I tried to describe it, feeling as I did so that my words were inadequate. ((I wasn't consciously aware of knowing it. I didn't realize I knew it until I had actually used the attack... and by then it was too late.))

((Too late for what?))

Too late for what, indeed? I asked myself. ((I'm not sure,)) I told her. ((Perhaps that was a bad choice of words. I'm sorry.))

((No, I'm sorry.))

((Why should you be sorry? It's not your problem. I'm the one who should be sorry. And I am sorry. Sorry for dragging you into this. You're a good Pokemon. You don't deserve to get mixed up in my problems.))

There was another pause. Then Ashley spoke, softly but firmly. ((Ponyta. Look at me.))

I didn't really want to, but something in her voice made me open my eyes anyway. My vision was still blurry from the moisture in my eyes, but I could see her face inches away from mine, her eyes looking into my own. I started instinctively to recoil from her gaze, and only checked myself with a massive effort.

((I don't mind being involved in your problems. I just want to help you.))

((There's no way you can help me,)) I informed her. ((There's something... wrong with me. And no offense, but I doubt very much that you can do anything about it.))

((How can you say that?))

((How can I say what?))

((That there's something wrong with you.))

I blinked a bit of the water from my eyes and stared back at her. ((What do you mean, how can I say there's something wrong with me? You saw what happened, didn't you?))

((Yes. But I don't see how that means there's something wrong with you.))

((I'm supposed to learn Fire-type attacks. I'm not supposed to learn Electric-type attacks. That means there's something wrong with me.))

((I don't think that's quite the right word for it,)) she said carefully. ((There's a difference between something being different and being wrong.))

((Perhaps in some cases,)) I had to agree. ((But in this case, I don't think there's any distinction to be made. It just isn't right for me to be the way I am.))

((Do you say that because it's what you think of yourself, or do you say it because it's what you think other Pokemon will think of you?))

It was a good question, I realized. ((I'm not sure,)) I said after a moment's thought. ((I'd have to think about it.)) And perhaps I would think about it. It was a question that had never occurred to me before, and as painful as the subject was to me, perhaps thinking about it would shed light on a way to make things better.

((Ponyta, it doesn't matter what other people think about you. All that matters is what you think. It's your own life and your own abilities.))

The words held a faint ring of truth that appealed to me, but I was afraid of admitting that to her or even to myself. ((That's not true. It does matter what other people think of me.))

((Why?))

I knew in my heart that Ashley was only trying to help make me feel better, and I mentally thanked her for it, but her words were probing too close for comfort. ((I don't want to talk about this anymore,)) I told her.

She seemed saddened. ((Are you sure?))

((I'm sure.))

((Well... okay.)) I could tell she was still worried for me. ((Do you want to talk about it again some other time?))

((Maybe. I don't know. I'll have to see how I feel.))

((All right. You know I'm always here for you to talk with.)) Ashley lowered her head, and I could tell she thought she had failed in some way. That was something I was beginning to figure out about her. She tried to help other people with their problems, and if she couldn't or if they didn't want her to, she felt guilty as though she'd failed. I felt bad for making her feel like that, but I was immensely relieved at an opportunity to escape the conversation and didn't want to risk bringing it up again.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. I froze. So did Ashley. ((Do you know who that could be?)) I asked her in a whisper.

((It's probably just one of the Center staff. If we're lucky-))

The footsteps slowed and stopped outside the room we were in. The door swung open. I felt a momentary sense of panic grip me. Then I saw who it was, and my fear subsided slightly.

"So there you are," he said, smiling. "You too, Ponyta. What are you two doing down here? It's not like you to run off without telling me, girl."

((Sorry,)) said Ashley. She looked slightly embarrassed, but only slightly. ((I just saw Ponyta leaving, and I followed her to see if she was all right. It turns out she just wanted a bit of time alone.))

"Oh." He looked at me. "Am I intruding? I can leave."

((No.)) I shook my head. ((Thank you, but I think I'm doing better now.)) I was surprised to find that I meant it, to some degree.

((She says she's okay now,)) translated Ashley.

"I see." He looked a bit skeptical, but let it slide. "Are you ready to come back upstairs, then?"

Ashley looked at me for an answer. I thought about it, then nodded yes. After a moment, she did too.

He smiled again. "All right, then. Let's go, and this time we'll see if we can't find something a bit more interactive to do than watching TV."

He turned and walked towards the door. We followed.