Chapter 12

Ciara and Gaveriel had finally made it back to their flat about an hour after sundown. The way to Lavender had taken a long while as they had to accommodate two city-slickers, but the way back had been downright awkward, even if they had made good time.

The forest always made Ciara feel somewhat… claustrophobic, with its towering trees and virtually nonexistent open spaces. She'd often times try to get up and over the trees by climbing one of the tallest ones, and it was up on those highest boughs that she truly felt at peace. She was actually quite surprised the first time she'd scrambled her way up there—you really could see just about everything from up there. She caught the tall skyscrapers in Celadon straight ahead, partly obscured by the obtrusive Silph Co. building in Saffron, where she also glimpsed the tops of the two Pokemon gyms. If she turned her head slightly to the right, she could see the ocean, a sure sign that Cerulean City was nearby. A bit to the left, and there was the majestic S.S. Anne cruise liner, the oldest boat in all of Kanto. Ciara wondered if the same captain ran it, but she somehow doubted the man was still alive.

Ciara couldn't see Pallet Town, Viridian City or Pewter City, but she knew they were there. If she looked directly out to the left she could see small traces of what she thought was Fuchsia City, but she couldn't be exactly sure.

And then, if she risked her neck and clung to the smaller, more delicate branches of the highest parts of the tree, she could see the illusive shadow of Cinnabar Island.

That was the place she'd go to, someday.

Right now, though, Ciara was loafing about outside their flat, laying on her back with her hands folded behind her dark-haired head. She was disturbed by something, but she'd never been great at introspection, and didn't know what it was. What she did know was that this feeling of great unease had began plaguing her the moment Visora and Elva had turned their backs and started off towards dismal Lavender. That didn't add up at all, since Ciara had thought Elva was annoying and Visora was overbearing. She shouldn't be missing the girls she'd only met that day, so that option was ruled out.

Rolling over on her stomach and sliding forward a bit to poke her head down into the flat, Ciara peeled her eyes for her brother. She found him in a shadowy corner, haunched over a stack of papers, struggling to sort through them in the dark. A pang of anxiety struck Ciara in the chest when she heard him draw a shaky, strained breath and sigh in frustration.

Honestly, she thought, pulling herself out of the flat and sitting up. There are times he seems older than most adults.

Gaveriel had been carrying the brunt of the weight of their lives for as long as Ciara could remember. She honestly wanted to help him, but they both knew that he was the one who really knew what he was doing. Gaveriel was a downright master of infiltration, sneak attacks and subtlety—Ciara's style was more fiery and in-your-face, and she preferred all-out raids to sneaky lurking and hushed whispers. She basically did whatever Gaveriel told her to do, and that had worked out fine so far.

But now she was worried about her brother's physical health. He was always like this—reading by the light of the feeble stars and ruining his eyes, trying to find a new lead instead of sleeping and eating, poring over documents with something bordering on obsession burning in his chocolaty brown eyes. Ciara had been somewhat surprised at how lively he'd been when Visora and Elva had turned up in their Rocket traps—he normally didn't crack jokes anymore, like he had when they were young. Ciara had liked the reverted Gaveriel—somewhat mischievous and witty, actually talking, and—heaven forbid—smiling.

And now he was back to the forty-year-old guy that she saw all the time.

Ciara had always been impulsive. This time was no different.

Pulling herself to her feet and sliding down into their flat, she shouted, "Gav, I want to get out of this place."

The hasty rustle of papers couldn't hide the fact that he'd been reading. Trying to act casual and like he was just thinking about going to sleep, Gaveriel stretched. "You just came in here, why would you want out?"

She frowned at him. "You know what I mean, bro."

The half-smile faded from his face, and Ciara expected to see wrinkles over his tanned skin. Drawing a hand over his face, he sighed. "Yeah, I do know what you mean, unfortunately. Ci," he paused, and scooted closer to her while he groped for words. "Ci, you know why we're out here."

"Because it's secluded and Rockets have been sighted in this area," she said, quoting him word for word. "I know, I know. But dude, we've been here for what… three, four months now? Don't you think if there were still Rockets in here, we'd have found them by now?"

Instead of continuing on the conversational path she'd wanted him to, Gaveriel regarded her carefully before muttering in an almost-whisper, "This is about those two girls, isn't it?"

Ciara mentally cursed herself for even thinking for a moment that she could match Gaveriel in a conversational debate. "No, actually, it's not… but they do have it a lot better than we do out here," she said, motioning with one hand to the crumbling dirt walls and disheveled stack of papers. "They move around, you know… they see things and do things and train their Pokemon. Good God, Gav, how long has it been since we've had a Pokemon battle?"

"Those things can wait, and you know it, Ci. We've been through this already."

"I know, Gav. But this time I want to know why."

"What do you mean why? We're trying to avenge father! Is that so hard to understand? Look," the slowly rising anger evaporated from his voice. He looked old again, and Ciara wanted to scream in frustration. "I know that this isn't fair to you. And we'll get out of here and into a real town soon, okay? I just need a few more weeks—"

"That's what you said three weeks ago, bro. I don't see why you can't do your stuff in a Pokemon Center. No one will pay attention to two kids with Pokemon. They'll think we're a couple of those losers who want to be Masters, or something. It'll be fine, bro." She paused for a moment, and then snuggled up next to him. "Please?"

"Ciara, don't start with that," he said, but she could feel his resolve crumbling. She'd gotten him to laugh with her losers comment and brought up a lot of valid points. He was a sucker for valid points. And now that she was employing the puppy-eyes, it was only a matter of time. Ciara sometimes felt downright rotten for exploiting her power over Gaveriel like this—as his only living relative he could very rarely say no to her—but in this case it was truly for his own good.

"Puh-leeeeeze?"

"Ciara," he tried to struggle free.

"Please, Gaveriel? Please? Just for a few weeks!"

"Okay, all right!" he exclaimed, successfully pushing her off him. "Just let me finish up some stuff tomorrow and we'll go then, okay?"

After they shared a laugh and Ciara latched herself onto his midsection in a fierce hug, he whispered, "Okay. But only because you want it so badly."

"Why else would you do it?" she asked him, an impish smile playing across her face.

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The next morning Ciara had packed in about three minutes flat. Granted, she hadn't had a lot of things to pack, with her three shirts, two pairs of pants and small bag of personal belongings and hygiene-related equipment, but she was still pretty proud. Now she was restlessly punching at thin air, keeping light on her feet and dodging blows from an imaginary opponent. She often times fought with nothing when she was agitated, as it kept her in shape and decently able to defend herself.

Gaveriel was the opposite of her in every way. Leaning up against a tree leisurely, flipping casually through an old newspaper and taking notes on a legal pad beside him, eyes half-lidded and sleepy in the sunlight, he was absolutely maddening to the hyped-up girl a few feet away. She decided that she'd give him about thirty more seconds to finish whatever it was that he was doing before she dragged him by force down the dirt path to Lavender Town.

Since that was where they were going, no matter what Gaveriel had to say about the matter.

Thirty seconds came and went and Ciara rounded on her languid brother.

"Gav, time to gooo…" she said, peering into his face from over the edge of the ratty newspaper. You said you'd be done by the time the sun was high up!"

In response, he lifted the newspaper to cover her face and continued reading as if he hadn't heard her.

Livid, Ciara spat, "Hey! I'm talking to you—" before she realized that he was chuckling.

"I know, Ci. I'm done, anyway," he got to his feet, folded up the paper and placed it neatly back on top of a bundle of other documents nearby his packed bag. Gaveriel did everything meticulously neatly, whereas Ciara's hastily thrown together knapsack was bulging out at odd angles and had bits of clothing poking out from the zipper. "Where did you want to go?"

"I was thinking since it's so close by and no one ever really goes there we could go to—"

"Lavender Town."

"Lavender Town—hey," she said, feigning innocence. "How'd you know?"

Gaveriel looked mildly irritated. "So this is about following those two girls." It wasn't a question, but Ciara answered it like it was one.

" No," she said with what she hoped was an accurate imitation of indignation. "I just wanted a place that was close by and secluded!"

Gaveriel rolled his eyes. "I'm sure. Look, we are not interfering in those girl's lives, okay? They wouldn't want us tagging along with them, and we can't afford to be slowed down, anyway. We probably told them too much yesterday as it is."

"I didn't mean that!" Ciara said, but inside her heart was sinking a bit. Gaveriel sure didn't act like he wanted to see the girls again—and Ciara was starting to wonder if maybe she did. Granted, she hadn't felt any kind of remarkable bond with Elva or Visora, but they were the only human beings they'd encountered and actually talked to in a long, long time. Writing it off as that, she said, "So, we can go, right?"

"If you say so," Gaveriel said, regarding her carefully. "But remember, we do not bug the girls."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ciara said offhandedly, already slinging her pack over her shoulder and starting off down the road. Even though she didn't realize it at the time, she was subconsciously narrowing down the exactly location of where the girls might be. "Now, hurry up, Slowpoke!"