"What can I get for you today, miss…?"
"Ketchum. Just water, please."
She was used to the arched eyebrow that request got, especially given the venue. Who could blame the bartender? One didn't normally come to a place like this to sip water. A small part of her was sorely tempted to throw caution to the wind and order something nice and numbing, but she wouldn't risk it.
Delia had seen what the drink had done to her parents, and she had spent countless hours digging deep into the science, the biology, and the reason behind addiction. There was so much evil in the world - some grand, most small and petty - and Delia found comfort in placing a why to it.
In the end, everything could be understood. It may not be pretty, it may not be easy, and it may not be entirely satisfying, but there was always an order to things. Understanding where something belonged and where it fit into the grander scheme of things was just the first step in learning how it connected to other ideas… and the first step in putting it right.
"Here you are, Ms. Ketchum."
She thanked the bartender and ordered a small appetizer. It wasn't much, but at least it gave Delia an excuse to slide into a cramped booth without being a parasite. The booth wasn't much, but the rough table was only a little sticky. Hundreds of little names and messages had been carved into it over the years, most vulgar (some reminded her of the things little Gary would say when he thought she wasn't listening) but some sweet or legitimately interesting facts.
What else could one expect from a university bar? She recognized a few of her fellow students at another table. There was Dr. Aiko from her Psychic Neuromechanics class with some of her lab assistants.
Delia longed to go over and join them.
Dr. Aiko was brilliant, one of the foremost researchers on the methods by which psychic energy was generated from the brain, and Delia had found her to be a lovely conversationalist, albeit one with little interest in discussing topics beyond her research. She'd love to plumb her mind a little more and pick out her current theories and perhaps run by a few of her own perceptions by the scientist.
It would be nice to join the other students too, even if most of them were nearly ten years younger than her… Delia felt rather old all of a sudden. They looked so happy and carefree over there with a thick, greasy pizza and a half-empty pitcher of foamy beer split between them.
Would that be her if her life had taken a different turn? She'd had so many dreams once. And then she'd met Spencer and gotten married, or was it Giovanni -
Giovanni. That's right. She'd never been married. Delia's hand clenched tight.
That was what troubled her about these insidious thoughts interwoven into her natural memories: Delia wanted to believe them. They were forbidden fruit and something in her, something dark and starving like a feral Houndoom, wanted nothing more to indulge and lose herself in the false recollections.
The scientist in her wanted nothing more than to pick them apart and understand what the Unown had done to her. She'd spent several months now doing just that, in fact, even if progress was painfully slow.
It was fascinating, though! Had they somehow constructed an entirely alternate set of memories, or had they drawn out Delia's hopes and dreams and just interlaced a rough framework and then allowed her mind to fill in the gaps?
She was familiar enough with psychology and neurodevelopment to understand that memories were fickle things, easily altered and twisted to fit perceptions or self-bias, and perhaps a sufficiently advanced psychic could utilize that to their advantage. Why bother putting in the work to develop those memories themselves when they could just work in a foundation for her to build off of?
And there were so many… a moment's thought was all it took to draw up hundreds, if not thousands of little snippets. They felt too real. Too crisp. Too clean. It was one of the few ways she could immediately discern what was truth and what was a lie, although some were too muddled and applicable to both lifetimes crammed into her skull for her to ever separate.
There was a moment of guilt as she indulged. Some were just too beautiful and full of warmth (plugged in by Molly, or herself?) to let slip through her fingers. Spencer stammering and presenting her with flowers, or holding Molly and Ash in her arms as she read them a bed time story, comforting Molly as they watched her big brother wander off with a little pink Nidoran and the rest of his infant team at his side…
That last one was unabashedly fake, cobbled together by the Unown from Molly's distorted, childish perception of the world, but she couldn't help but clutch it tight.
Delia's eyes squeezed shut. What the hell was she doing here? If she was just going to mope, she could have stayed at her apartment and at least enjoyed one of her books. This was just sad. She was thirty, a mother, and a proud student, and she was sitting alone drinking water at a sleazy college bar.
This wasn't what she'd imagined for herself.
Thunk.
"Ah!" Delia jumped. Her eyes shot open and she gaped. "...Professor Blaine? What are you doing -"
"Want a drink?"
How rude! She began to hold her tongue, but why would she? Delia Ketchum wasn't a terrified little girl anymore. In fact, she'd given a well-deserved tonguelashing to Champion Lance (she was a little embarrassed, but mostly proud of that act) just a few months ago.
"No. I don't drink - and what do you think you're doing, Professor? You can't just come and make yourself at home wherever you please! Did you leave your manners in the volcano?"
Blaine blinked, then chuckled as he took a sip from the metal flask in his hand. "I haven't needed manners in thirty years. They're just a shield for bullshitters and weaklings. Which are you?"
Delia refused to dignify that with a response, although part of her wanted to call Ash so her baby could sic Infernus on this ugly old man. Her nose wrinkled as the sickly scent of liquor - vodka, she thought - wafted over, and she scowled at him again when he waggled it in her direction.
"You don't partake?" He took another great swig. A fire started in Delia's belly - Ash had mentioned meeting the Gym Leader, and if this brilliant, washed-up, liver spotted drunkard was exposing her baby to alcohol so young… "Good. It's a filthy habit."
All the wind was taken from her sails. Delia could only stare.
"I remember you, you know. It was fourteen years ago, if I recall correctly. And I always do. You were right there with little Spencer. I remember him babbling about Legendaries and Unown… I thought he was full of shit. I suppose I owe him an apology."
Her jaw clenched. "Yes, you do."
"I'll get around to it one of these days. You aren't so different, though. I remember that look on your face - you have the same one now, like you want to sock me in the jaw."
Delia actually laughed at that. "I'm thinking about it. Don't you think you've earned a good punch or two?"
Something dark passed over the old scientist's features. A few of the other students had paused to look at him with dawning recognition, but even Dr. Aiko was unwilling to inspect Blaine too carefully. His reputation clad him like armor. Even Delia wouldn't have approached him if he hadn't so rudely invaded her bubble.
"Aye, I've earned a punch or two," Blaine took a longer pull from his flask this time, then wiped his lips with his lab coat's sleeve. "So what are you doing in a shithole like this, Ketchum? Me? No one expects much from me. No one's surprised to find me in a sleazy joint. But you?"
Delia bristled. "You don't know me."
"But I do know your son." Blaine's lips twitched beneath his mustache. "You've raised a good boy."
She wanted to stay surly and angry, but a compliment like that was hard to pass up. Delia beamed. Her Ashy really was a good boy… the best! "Ash mentions you often," she said grudgingly. "You made an impact on him."
"He'd better! Do you know how many questions that boy asks? He's a damn geyser of them… or a black hole. I could teach him everything I know and he'd be back the next day demanding more. Insatiable, I tell you!"
Delia giggled at that - yes, that sounded like him! A well of pride rose up in her chest. She'd done everything she could to raise Ash right. He was such a sweet little boy, and she'd always encouraged that, but she'd done her best to draw out his curiosity as well.
Would Ash ever pursue a career in science? Delia doubted it. He was in love with training - his team, really - and the road. It was hard to imagine her baby boy staying in one place long enough to put down any kind of roots in a university or research station.
But he pursued his goals relentlessly. He had a hunger for knowledge and a love for learning. He spent every day improving himself. Delia's heart filled with warmth and she found herself wishing Ash was here so she could wrap him up in the tightest hug ever.
…Seeker would be nice too, or Sneasel. She missed cuddling them, and she missed Bruiser helping her around the house, and she missed Tangrowth's patented best hugs ever. He was such a little sweetheart. And Dazed was a lovely conversationalist…
Oh, she couldn't go down that route. She missed them all. That would keep her occupied all night.
"You never answered my question."
Delia sighed.
"I was at your lecture," she admitted. Blaine's black eyes gleamed. Part of her hated giving Blaine the satisfaction, but she couldn't deny his brilliance. His insights into the epigenetic impact on evolution were fascinating. "After it was over, I needed… something. I wasn't going to find it at home, so I guess I found my way here."
A thought came to her. "How did you even recognize me?" She didn't care to hide her suspicions. "It's been fourteen years. I don't buy that garbage about remembering my face."
"Ash Ketchum is a big name these days. I'm a responsible Gym Leader. I do my research, you know. I've made a life of it. You can imagine my surprise when I was picking through his files and found a familiar face. Quite an interesting bit of reading…"
Ugh, what did they have on her? Delia found herself wishing for the fake memories as little flashes of those dark days passed by. Giovanni, the terrifying days fleeing to Pallet Town, Mrs. Oak's glassy eyes - no.
Blaine allowed her a moment to collect herself as he sipped his liquor. How was he not plastered? Maybe he was just good at hiding it.
"You've walked a rocky road with all sorts of twists and turns," Blaine lit up a cigar. No one dared step in to chastise him, even if Delia wanted to gag at the foul smoke. Who even smoked indoors nowadays? There was no way she was letting Ash spend any more time with him! "Each is more improbable than the last. I see where your boy gets it from. I've never seen anyone with such shitty luck. You Ketchums are even giving me a run for my -"
"Don't talk about him! And put that cigar out. Do you think these people want to smell that filth?" Delia hissed. She glared at the old Gym Leader. "What do you want?"
"Oh, don't embarrass yourself. Puffing smoke won't scare me off." Blaine chuckled in between breaths of his cigar. He tapped the disgusting thing against the table to knock off some of the ashen end. "You're tough, no doubt, but righteous maternal anger won't get under my skin. I'm not Lance - good job on tearing him a new asshole, by the way. We needed a good laugh after all Greenfield's bullshit."
…Delia did an admirable job of hiding her smile.
"I saw you at my lecture today. Recognized you from Ash's file. You've raised my curiosity, and I have a question for you."
"Shoot." Delia said. "If it'll get you off my back…"
"I'll leave you here to sulk with your water."
"Fine. What's your question?"
Blaine's black eyes dug into her with an intensity that reminded her of Professor Oak when he was on a research binge, or even Ash…
"What do you live for?" Blaine's voice barely rose above a whisper. "You were entangled with that rotten son of a bitch Giovanni - what interesting implications, by the way! Somehow it just got worse from there. So what keeps you going?"
Delia's hackles raised at Blaine's snide comment. How much had he put together? Blaine was brilliant, after all. Samuel wouldn't have told anyone of Ash's first father - no, only father… no, not father, sperm donor - but the pieces were all there for anyone willing to look.
She couldn't miss the edge in Blaine's voice. There was a vendetta there. Betrayal.
Perhaps he hated Giovanni just as much as she did on her worst days. Her weak days when she succumbed to anger.
"Your boy's secret is safe with me. My old man was a piece of shit too. We're more than our DNA."
Delia sagged in relief and gave his question the proper consideration. A dozen thoughts were processed and filed away - mostly because they relied on information from those sweet, sweet lies embedded in her memories - before she felt ready to share.
She couldn't miss the hunger in Blaine's eyes. He truly, desperately wanted to know. Why? Delia had her own suspicions, but she lacked the proper data to formulate a solid hypothesis.
"My family never had much. My parents drank all our money away and love had to be earned," Delia smiled wanly. She wondered why on earth she was spilling her guts to Blaine of all people (and she didn't even have a drink to blame it on!) but supposed that was her answer: Blaine was safe.
Everyone knew what he'd done in the war. He was the last person who could judge her.
"When I was a little girl, I dreamed of finding my handsome prince and being whisked off to a castle where I'd live happily ever after. When I met Gio - well, you see how that little girl's dreams turned out."
Delia's smile turned bitter. She remembered a white dress, a diamond-studded ring placed onto her finger, and Spencer's warm lips on hers. It was a nice lie.
Blaine took another swig.
"But you know what? I have everything that little girl could ever want. I'm proud of who I've become. If she could see me now…" Delia trailed off. "I have the most amazing son in the whole world. I have a father, a real father. I'm given more love than I could ever give back. In the end, I live for them. I live for the people I love."
Silence.
The old man studied her intently, then nodded. He looked very tired. After a moment he raised his flask. She clinked her water glass against the metal container.
"Cheers."
They drank.
"I'll get out of your hair," Blaine grumbled. He rose stiffly, cursed a few times, and glared at some of the students watching him with awe. "Thanks for your time, Ketchum."
He began to hobble off, swaying a little, but Delia couldn't let him go off like that with a shadow hanging over his head. Delia didn't know Blaine - didn't even like him, really - but she knew it would be the worst disservice to allow him to go off on his own.
"Professor!"
Blaine froze.
Delia gulped. Was she really inviting him back?
She made up her mind.
"Your lecture raised several questions on the importance of environmental impact on evolution and the impact of elemental stones on gene expression in pokemon. I was hoping to ask you about some of the points you made, if you don't mind."
Blaine's face might as well have been carved of stone, but he inched back to their table. Something about him was softer now and he put the flask away. She didn't put too much stock into that, though, since it might have just been empty after all his drinking.
He slid back into the smoky booth. "Ask away…"
