Chapter 20

Once they had successfully removed themselves from the building, Ciara felt a lot better. Inside the piercing cold had sent shivers down her spine and rebelled entirely against her fiery blood—now that she was out in the humid summer night air, she actually felt as if she could breath again, and the coursing relief that suddenly flooded her veins, along with the residual, displaced adrenaline, had her whooping and hollering before she could control herself. And once she started, she couldn't stop.

"Woo-hoo! Did you see those things? They were wicked! Oh, Gav, that was awesome when you full-on smashed that one in the head with Cubone's Bone Club! And you two," she paused for maybe half a second to regard the shaken sisters, "Your Pokemon were on it! You guys didn't say you were such great trainers!"

Elva gave Ciara a wavering, faint smile that peered out from behind her disheveled hair. "Thanks… we try."

"Ciara, maybe you should sit down and do some deep breathing for a while—" Gaveriel was suggesting behind her. She whipped around and grabbed him in a fierce hug before shoving his head into the crook of her elbow and proceeding to give him the second-roughest noogie of his life. The first roughest had taken a small patch of his hair out when they were kids.

"I can't believe we're alive, man!"

"Being alive is, typically, a good thing, yes…" Gav muttered from under her arm, his voice muffled. "Breathing is also a good thing. And it's something I can't do right now, Ci."

Laughing, she released her stranglehold on her brother and plopped down beside the two girls on the floor. "You feeling okay, Visora? You don't look so hot."

Visora had been remarkably quiet the whole journey down the tower, but now she reanimated. "Okay? Am I okay? We just got attacked by at least a hundred Ghost Pokemon that were trying to dismember us and were forced to run for our lives down six flights of tombstone-ridden stairs! And you ask me if I'm okay?" And then, all at once, she burst into laughter. "But I'm alive. And I suppose it could be worse."

Elva started giggling too, and Gaveriel had to fight back a snort. Soon, they were all cracking up and slapping their knees, rolling on the floor—in Ciara's case—and struggling to breathe. After a few moments when the hype had died down some, Gaveriel got up.

"We should head back to the Center, don't you think?" The question was said to Ciara, but directed at them all. Visora got shakily to her feet and nodded.

"Elva and I are staying there, too. I could really use a bite to eat, though…" she glanced at Gaveriel and Ciara, and suddenly seemed a lot younger. Ciara got the sense that she was about to put herself out on a limb; the look on her face was the unmistakable fear of rejection. "You guys… want to, y'know, join us? My treat."

Ciara's face broke into a smile, and died just as suddenly as she caught the grave look on her brother's face. Surely, he wasn't going to deny them after what they'd all just been through…?

"I absolutely, one-hundred-percent refuse," Ciara was about to attack him from behind, when, "… to let you pay for us." She tripped on her own feet and stumbled forward, which got Elva laughing again. Gaveriel turned to face his sister exclusively and winked, as if to say, Honestly, Ci; what kind of person do you think I am?

"Old maid," she muttered, grinning at him.

"Crotchety geezer," he responded with equal affection.

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Later that evening the four dined on various flavors of milkshake while discussing the events of the day. Gaveriel and Visora had gotten into a light-hearted debate about whether chocolate or vanilla was the superior flavor while Ciara and Elva had rolled their eyes at them over their dual strawberry-flavored ones. The Pokemon Center was very accommodating, except for an old man who had told them that they shouldn't have crossed the ghosts of Pokemon. When Elva had tried to explain to the man that they were Gastlies, he'd simply shook his head as if he pitied her and said morosely, "Poor child. The fright's gone to her head." After the man had wandered away the four of them had burst into laughter.

And that was how they spent their night, talking and relaxing, winding down and coming off of their adrenaline highs. No one was really in an antagonizing mood—Ciara supposed that was what a near-death experience did to people—and the atmosphere was light and comfortable.

That was, until Gaveriel stretched and looked at his watch before remarking to Ciara, "I think we should head in for the night. I have a new lead on the Rockets that I want to look into tomorrow morning."

An awkward silence settled over the table. It seemed that everyone had been avoiding the topic of Gaveriel and Ciara's "profession," so to speak, all night. Now that it was out in the open, the four were sharply reminded of the unpleasant situation that had arisen the last time they'd bid each other farewell.

Visora excused herself to step outside for a moment, and Elva looked up at her sister with a flash of concern that Ciara caught immediately. Gaveriel hadn't seen it, as he was gathering up their cups and moving to return them to the front desk, but Ciara casually—or, as casually as she could—got up, stretched, and said to Elva that she was going to the bathroom. Elva seemed to know that Ciara was going after Visora, but didn't say anything about it. Her expression was torn between gratitude and apprehension.

Outside, Ciara thought at first that Visora had wandered off. When she looked around a bit more, however, she found her sitting with her back pressed up against the wall of the Center, legs pulled up to her chest and arms draped down over them. Ciara, without thinking, pulled up a patch of cement beside her and sat.

"Hey," she said, hoping she didn't seem too intrusive.

"Hello." Visora shot a sidelong glance at her, mildly annoyed, as if to say What are you doing out here?

Ciara bit her lip and went on. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Visora gave a half-snort half-chuckle. "You won't like them very much."

"Try me," Ciara said, bristling as she felt the beginnings of a challenge. She tried to tell herself that Visora hadn't meant to goad her, but the fact remained that it was just the way Ciara worked—she read into everything and was constantly on the look out for possible fights, even when she was feeling peaceable.

"It's Elva," Visora said, averting her eyes and leaning her red head back against the wood of the Center. She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, and suddenly Ciara could imagine her ten years from now, taking a long drag off of a cigarette, perhaps a stressed-out business woman. Blinking the sudden image away and wondering where it came from, Ciara listened as Visora went on. "She really, really likes you guys. Granted, she likes most people moments after she meets them, but if we happen to part ways, she doesn't mind so much and moves on soon enough. But I saw the way her face lit up when she saw you two again, at the Tower, and it wasn't just because you showed up at a remarkably opportune time to lend us a hand."

Ciara wasn't sure what to say, and wasn't sure she was following Visora's train of thought. "And this is a bad thing, why?"

Visora laughed softly. "It shouldn't be a bad thing. I wish it weren't. But I can't have her corresponding with you or your brother. You're getting yourselves very deep in illegal matters—"

"Illegal matters?" Ciara interrupted, straightening up and feeling a flicker of indignation spark within her. Flint and steel. "Last time I checked, the Rockets were doing a hell of a lot more "illegal" things than Gav and I are doing."

"The fact remains," Visora said through her teeth, "that you are crossing the law. Elva's a romantic—she loves the old Westerns where outlaws are glorified. I'm not saying you're outlaws," she went on, cutting off the biting remark that was growing in Ciara's throat, "but you and your brother are going up against an extremely dangerous, very large group of people, and that's basically the same idea. You have no idea how badly Elva wished that you were serious when you asked if we wanted to join you."

"I was serious," Ciara blurted out before she could stop herself. "Gav and I were talking today and he told met that I've already said too much to you people."

Visora was silent for a moment. "Maybe you would want us to join you, but your brother is a different story."

"He's got a name, you know…" Ciara said. Then, as she pondered exactly why Visora didn't seem willing to say "Gaveriel," the girl went on.

"I don't want Elva getting hurt. That's the bottom of the issue."

"Well, I don't blame you." Ciara got to her feet and brushed off her black pants, crossing her arms and leaning up against the wall. She wanted to go back inside before she completely crushed any form of respect they had for each other. Yet she felt there was still more to say. A question popped in her mind, and, like everything else in her life, it came rushing out before it could be edited.

"Why are you so uptight about the law, anyway?"

Shocked silence. Visora's head snapped up towards her and her piercing green eyes that looked almost yellow in the fluorescent lighting from inside warily regarded her. Ciara felt like she was being dissected like any butterfly on a lab table. "No reason. I just don't approve of what you and your—and Gaveriel are doing." She turned back to face forward, but Ciara noted the stiffness in her shoulders. Obviously she'd struck a nerve. "You should leave it up to the law to bust Team Rocket."

"You know why we don't just leave it up to the law, Visora?" Ciara found herself saying. This time she legitimately tried to stop the flow of words. She braced every ounce of self-restraint and common sense she possessed to attempt and block off the stream, but it was no use. "It's because the law didn't help our father or mother when the Rockets went after them!"

Visora looked as if she'd had some sort of catty comment in store, but the look on Ciara's face must have been striking, because the look died off instantly. Suddenly the untouchable girl was all ears.

"Your parents?"

"Yeah, our parents," Ciara said, feeling hotheaded but already coming down off her high. She felt increasingly stupid and childish as the seconds wore on. Honestly, she thought to herself. I'm acting like a self-pitying three-year-old, and that's exactly the way Visora will see me, too.

Ciara wasn't continuing, so Visora spoke up.

"I wondered why you two were out in the woods alone," she prompted, the dialectical equivalent of poking something dying with a stick to get it to move again. "Did Team Rocket convince them to join?"

Ciara's flame of passion and defiance roared to life again. "No!" she half-shouted before she stopped herself. "No. That's not it at all. Mom and Dad would have died before joining Team Rocket…" she let herself trail off. The end of the sentence was dancing on the tip of her tongue, and, resigned, she let it fall off into the air. "They did."

There was no sound from Visora, but Ciara could just imagine the look on her face. A mix of shock and horror. She needed to get out. She was this close to snapping at the girl and the fact that Visora had been so adamant against the cause Ciara had devoted her life to wasn't helping. Not to mention the fact that she'd just spilled her darkest mark of pain out to the girl, leaving herself vulnerable. She started for the door, and had gotten as far as putting her hand against the cool metal of the doorknob when another brash sentence escaped her. This one was considerably different from anything she'd said in the past, though—it came out soft and understanding, yet firm and intelligent. It sounded like something Gaveriel would say.

"Sometimes you can't leave it up to the law. Sometimes, the law fails you and you have to take matters into your own hands."

With that said, Ciara pulled open the door and let herself back into the well-lit, friendly Center where Gaveriel and Elva were seated at their table. The warm atmosphere was gone, though—and Ciara got the distinct feeling she'd left one very disturbed young girl out there in the night, looking at the stars and contemplating God knew what.