"During our research, we deduced that the reason there are no triple-typed Pokémon in nature is because the presence of a third type of 'energy' causes an imbalance. Dual-type energies are like a perfectly evened scale; add a third weight and the whole thing tips over.

No matter how we proportioned the percentages of energy, the ratio would invariably decay back to unsustainable levels, causing the subject to expire. We needed to find a way to stabilize the energy somehow, a kind of 'energy glue' if you will."

-Doctor Harrison.

Torn apart

Lindsey knocked softly on the door to Ash's room. There was no reply. She wasn't expecting one.

"Ash, I'm coming in if that's okay."

She waited a few more seconds, then slowly opened the door. The suite she entered was almost identical to her own. It had the same arrangement of furniture and colors. Yet somehow it felt more empty. For a moment Lindsey thought she had entered the wrong room as it didn't look like there was anyone inside. Then she spotted him, sitting at the desk in the corner, arms crossed on the table with his head resting on them. Was he sleeping?

'He decided to sit in a spot where he could watch the entire room, including the door and windows.' This unconscious behavior aligned with what she suspected. But she had to be careful not to pick a diagnosis first and start looking for symptoms to confirm it after.

"Ash?" she spoke calmly as to not alarm him.

Ash moved his head slightly to the side and, apparently realizing he had been dozing off, snapped up suddenly. He quickly looked to each side of the room as if expecting a fully grown Hydreigon to jump at him from the shadows.

"I'm sorry for startling you. I knocked but you mustn't have heard."

Ash blinked a few times, from the looks of it he was having difficulty bringing her into focus. He looked paler than when she'd first seen him this morning, making the scars on his face stand out more. She could also see the shadows under his eye. He looked exhausted.

Some of the fear seemed to leave his face once Ash realized who he was looking at. Though his posture remained alert.

Slowly, without making any sudden moves, Lindsey walked over to a chair that was near Ash's desk. He grew more and more tense the closer she got. She smiled calmly at him and then gently sat down. "Do you know why I am here, Ash?"

Looking rather apprehensive, he shook his head once.

'A response, good.'

"I am a doctor. Your father asked me to make sure you get better."

At the mention of his father, Ash became even more rigid.

"It's alright." She said evenly. "I am not going to do anything you don't want me to."

He stared blankly back at her.

"I am also not going to ask you to talk about things you don't want to talk about."

She spoke slowly, giving her words plenty of time to sink in.

"You are free to reject any of my help. I will not force it on you. But I do hope you will accept it. I promise that I genuinely have your best interests at heart. I want you to feel better. Not for your father's sake but for your own."

That seemed to have calmed him down slightly. Or at least, he sat a little less stiffly. She hoped that if Ash understood that he had the autonomy to reject treatment, he would conversely accept it. Yet his expression was still full of mistrust. She waited a few more moments as they sat in silence, wishing he might finally say something. But Ash didn't really give any further reaction.

"Do you think it's okay for me to help you tonight? It would only be a short checkup and then I'll leave you alone again."

Ash's eye narrowed ever so slightly and for a moment she thought she'd lost him. Then his gaze turned down and he looked resigned. That was not the reaction Lindsey had hoped for. Clearly, he didn't believe he really had a choice, that if he refused, his father or someone else would just force him.

And he was probably right.

But it's hard to help someone who doesn't want to be helped. Lindsey knew that better than most people.

"Before you arrived here, you were taking medication. Do you remember what kind and how often?"

Ash shook his head.

"That's okay."

It was not okay. He had probably missed several doses by now. She suspected that is why he was looking paler than before. But she couldn't just give him whatever she had on hand. Sure, she could make an educated guess as to what he had likely been taking; painkillers, anti-inflammatory drugs, blood thinners, and probably anti-anxiety medication. But there were many variants, all with different dosages and side effects. This is why she had been so insistent on getting his files. If Frank didn't get them soon she'd find a way to do it herself. She'd borrow a car and drive the 6 hours back to the hospital if she had to. Right now, however, she'd have to make do with the information she had on hand.

"Though, would you please tell me if you start feeling unwell?"

A shrug.

"Alright then. Now, may I please have a look at your bandages?"

Ash frowned at this. So, she explained;

"If you were in surgery more than two weeks ago, bandages can usually be removed. Most stitches may also be removed by that time. You can point me to the ones you know are ready to go. Unless, of course, you don't want me to. But I can't imagine you'd want to keep them."

This argument was too logical to dismiss. Ash still looked uncomfortable but was evidently too tired to put up a fight.

When Lindsey had first seen Ash, she had guessed he had been attacked by Pokémon. Now that she could finally see the full extent of the boy's injuries, she realized she had been wrong. He hadn't been attacked.

He had been torn apart.

His left leg had been amputated below the knee. He had been walking around with a prosthetic, explaining the limp. His entire body was covered in scars, many of which already had their sutures removed and would thankfully disappear in time. But there were big ones, many of them. These couldn't have been from a small Pokémon like a Ratata or Pidgey. The three large gashes she found on his chest, similar to those on his face looked like they had to have been made by something with claws the size of kitchen knives. She decided to leave the sutures of those in a little longer.

'What in Arceus' name happened to you?' She wondered in shock.

The only cases she had seen that came close to being this bad were motorcycle accidents. And those usually didn't involve children. She had to work hard to keep her face impassive as she reapplied the bandage over Ash's empty right eye socket. She made a mental note to consult his father about an eye prosthetic later. Then the boy wouldn't have to walk around with an eyepatch.

She was nearly as relieved as Ash was when she finally closed the bottle of antiseptic. There were only a handful of bandages remaining, primarily on his eye, chest, one arm, and his good leg. Those needed a bit more time to heal.

"There, now you'll look less like a mummy and more like a regular boy again." She said, trying to encourage him a little. "Though if you don't start eating better you can cosplay as a skeleton next."

Ash was much too thin for her liking. And, from the way he looked like he was ready to keel over where he sat, in dire need of a good night's rest. His skin had gone even paler than before and Lindsey had noticed he'd been rather clammy when she was working on him. He didn't react to her quip at all.

"Are you alright, Ash?" She asked again.

As though on autopilot, he nodded, his eye unfocused and glassy. She looked down at him sadly, wishing she could do more to make him feel better. But she'd overstayed her welcome far enough as it was for today. When she finally left Ash's room a few minutes later, she let out a low sigh. Doctors were trained to keep a professional level of detachment from their patients. Otherwise, the misery that comes with their line of work would inevitably leave them unable to do their job to the best of their abilities. But they were still human.

How could she not care?