Vallea still wasn't sure if her resurrection was real, or if she was just experiencing a fever dream constructed by her failing mind. It had been a full three days since her disappearance was undone, and during those days the Riolu had pinched herself more times than she could count. But she didn't wake up. That meant one of two things: either she was actually back, or the events of the previous few days were a hallucination that she simply couldn't escape. A small, illogical part of her expected it to be the latter. To fully accept that she was alive again, that she could see the ones she loved, it was almost too much. Maybe she really was back, but only for a while, and she'd vanish again in the blink of an eye. What would happen then?

For a moment she was back on that hill overlooking her home, her body disintegrating into tiny sparks of light.

"You have to push the door to open it."

The moment passed. She looked over her shoulder and spotted the Treecko who had spoken. Aster stood with his arms crossed, his expression as stoic as ever. A breeze blew past them, cooled by the summer night. As she turned back to her own front door, she tried to find the words to express what she was feeling. It was her home, had been for all her life, and yet she still couldn't muster up the courage to enter and face its only occupant. There was only one aura behind the door; she knew exactly whose it was. Carracosta. Her Pops.

"Do you think he'll hate me?" she murmured. "I went and disappeared without any warning, not even a goodbye. Maybe… Maybe he's better off without me."

"What are you talking about? Why would your own father hate you?"

Her heart grew heavy, and her gaze fell to the ground. "All my life, I only made messes and caused problems for everyone. I lost count of how many times I did something really stupid, and sometimes it was just to make him mad. Remember that one time we wrecked his garden? Or when I accidentally shattered Nuzleaf's window? And there was that one time I got really angry and told him I wished he never adopted me. My disappearance was another problem to add onto the pile." She shook her head, then whispered, "Maybe I should stay away so I can't hurt him anymore."

"Lea." There was a pause as his aura folded over itself. "This vanishing thing isn't your fault. It's not like you chose to leave. If the representation of life itself tells you that you have to go, then you have to go."

"No, you don't understand," she said, then turned to face him. "This wasn't Xerneas's decision. They were just fulfilling a promise that they'd made to Mew. To me."

"Lea—"

"All those centuries ago, back when I was Mew, I decided that I would disappear after stopping Dark Matter for good. This… This body of mine, it was just supposed to be a temporary vessel!" She was raising her voice now, talking louder and faster, but she couldn't stop. "My reincarnation, this entire life, it was all a setup so that I could finally finish what I had started! And once I did my job, I'd vanish so that Mew could come back and replace me! The choice was mine! Nobody else's! So don't tell me it's not my fault, because it absolutely is!"

The Riolu was shouting at the end, her paws clenched into fists. A small frown made its way onto her partner's face as his gaze fell to the floor. She realized what she'd done. Another mistake. Another friend she'd hurt.

"I'm sorry—" Vallea began, but Aster cut her off.

"Would you have chosen it?" he asked gently.

"What?"

"If you could've decided whether you wanted to disappear when Xerneas came to see you, would you have gone through with it?"

"Of course not!" She shook her head for good measure.

He smiled. "Things changed, right? It was a past life, and we didn't know enough back then."

It took her a moment to realize what he meant. The reincarnation had been decided upon centuries ago. How could she had known at the time that she'd create a whole new life, separate from Mew? Maybe her existence was a cosmic accident, but she was back now. This time, for good. Her heart felt a little lighter, and her breath came a little easier. "Do you think he feels the same way?" she asked.

"He's a thousand times smarter than I am. Of course he does."

"And that whole business where I was Mew but I'm not anymore, will he believe it?"

The Treecko gestured towards the door. "Go and ask him." Vallea didn't think she was smiling, but it was definitely something close. After everything that had happened—Dark Matter, the world almost ending, her own disappearance—she didn't feel completely okay, not yet. But maybe if she kept moving forward, things would get better.

The door was as stubborn and creaky as she remembered it being. It took a hard push to open it. The Riolu shut her eyes and exhaled slowly, then let herself look at her own house for the first time since her disappearance.

It was as though Vallea had traveled back in time to a different summer night, when she had been little and the world had seemed comforting instead of vulnerable. Everything in her house was just the way she remembered it. The desk still stood tall and proud, the same paintings hung on the walls, and a familiar rocking chair occupied the far corner. In the rocking chair sat Carracosta, his eyes shut. He was asleep, all sharp edges and cragged blue scales beneath a thick, dark, rocky shell. A book lay open in his lap and a candle flickered weakly next to a cup of cold tea on the small table next to him. A deep, irrational anxiety grew in her chest. What if he'd hate her when he woke up? She turned back to Aster, who only glared at her as his aura twitched.

What're you waiting for? He didn't say it, but she could tell he wanted to.

She took a single shaky breath, then stepped across the doorstep. Into her house. Her home. She was home.

Her Pops was still asleep in his old chair, just a few metres away, though that short distance seemed impossibly huge to her. How would he react to her return? Maybe he would scold her. Maybe he would get absolutely furious, more than he'd ever been in his entire life. Or worse—he'd be so disappointed, he'd pretend she didn't exist.

Or maybe he'll be happy, said a little voice in the back of her mind.

Something behind her made a long, drawn-out creak. She turned to find Aster in the middle of shutting the door. He gave her a thumbs up, then closed it fully and left her alone with her Pops in the house—no, her house.

Specks of dust hung in the air and settled on the floorboards and furniture, the result of her father not cleaning as much as he used to. She wondered why. Back before everything had gone wrong, he had been the biggest neat freak in the village. But now there were even dirty dishes lining the kitchen counter; the Pops she knew would've never let his house get to such a state.

A few quiet steps later, the Riolu was standing at her Pops' side. When she had been little, the top of her head would barely reach the armrest of his chair. Whenever she was sad or bored, or she simply wanted his attention, she'd tug on his flipper and he'd reach down to sweep her up into the air and make everything okay. She couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. That wasn't surprising. Time made her grow bigger while age made him seem smaller and somehow frailer, like a boulder eroded by the river it sat in. Now she was as tall as he was, at least when he was sitting. She doubted he'd ever sweep her up again, regardless of how much she wanted him to. It was funny, in a way. She was the world's savior; she had faced monsters that, logically, her Pops probably wouldn't be able to handle. But she still saw him as an immovable rock, someone who could take her worries and fears and push them away, at least for a little while.

Vallea grabbed the part of her father's shell that jut out and gently shook it. A deep grumble came from Carracosta and his flipper flopped limply, as if to shoo away whatever was bugging him. "Pops," she whispered. "Wake up."

His eyes opened a crack, then he gasped and stood up so fast that the book on his lap went flying and the rocking chair tilted back too far. They fell onto the floor with a loud crash, but his attention was focused solely on her. He reached out for her slowly, as if she was an apparition that he would scare away if he moved too suddenly. A flipper came to rest gingerly on her shoulder, his aura swirling around itself like a whirlpool.

"Is it really you?" he murmured. "Vallea?"

Her tears built up and left tracks on her face where they fell. "It's me," she said, then wiped her eyes. "I-I'm back, Pops."

It was silent for a moment. Carracosta stood still as a statue, his gaze affixed on her. She realized he was crying, too. "My child," he whispered, then pulled her into a hug. He wasn't mad or upset, or even annoyed. Why had she ever worried? Why was she so surprised? The knowledge that her own father was happy to see her was almost too much for her to bear.

She hugged him back as best as she could, even though her arms could only reach halfway around his shell. Her shaky breathing steadied, and she realized she was smiling.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm here."

Author's note: This story was finished and posted on AO3 roughly two years ago. I honestly forgot to post it here, and I must apologize for that.