This story was co-developed by Titan127 and beta read by ShonnaRose and JhinoftheOpera.
[12-1] Friends From Afar
"We'll be in Sinnoh by tomorrow!" screamed her mom.
"What she means is, we'll be in Sinnoh as soon as we can," corrected her dad.
Laina held the broken Poké GEAR at arm's length, the volume on its absolute lowest setting still not enough to contain Kori Fauder. She had heard it was called empty nest syndrome, but she didn't expect it to be so real—every single call home on the trip had been like a detective interrogating the perp.
A nurse parade sneered at her, and she grinned back and covered the speakers. Sure, using the phone in private was more polite, but she was stranded in a stark white hospital hallway with nothing interesting to look at except for boring wildlife paintings and carts of stabby, medical things. What else was she supposed to do?
"Unfortunately, the League keeps calling us for service resolve robberies, of all things. Here I thought we handled the Rockets already," Dad clarified, a clear emptiness in his breath.
"Are you, uhh, okay? Are you gonna be good?" Laina tried not to imply too much with her question.
Her dad just beamed a bit, overall a pretty solid estimation of being happy, and overcame the CD skip in his voice. "I'm just fine, little lady. We have a lot of leverage against the Pokémon League with our new position, especially since we're the only Gym Leaders in Johto that have dependent kids. People bend pretty easily when you ask 'but what about the children.'"
"Sneaky," she shot back. "So, what do you guys suggest for—"
"Watch yourself!"
At her dad's shout, she swung around just a moment too late. A tall Sinnohan man, clearly a bit too busy with his watch, shoved his knee right into her stomach. The Poké GEAR skidded across the spotless floor as she crumpled, her knees and elbows stung by icy tile. Her parents shouted in alarm. She could only wish that their voices wouldn't get shattered beneath someone's feet.
No one helped her up, not a single hand extended. Not even one of the endless nurses that raced in and out of the surrounding rooms, which all seemed to be in use. It's like they all hated her or something. All she did was talk on the stupid phone.
The device was still in one piece, though seconds away from being trashed when she swiped it out from a nurse's path. Her mom was basically dying from shock when she finally beat the picture back into it with only Dad keeping her upright.
"I'm okay, I'm okay. Guess I shouldn't have been standing out in the way," she huffed, and planted herself in the waiting chair beside the door, underneath a diagram of somebody's gooey intestines. "Do you have any ideas about what I can do for Ciel?"
"Any updates from the doctor?" asked her dad.
"They got him on antibot— anteboct—"
"Antibiotics."
"Yeah, those. They said it'd be a week before he's good. I tried to talk to him, but I just can't figure out how to get through his thick skull."
Her mom straightened up to give advice, meticulously putting her frayed hair back in some kind of order. "This probably isn't a good answer, but the best you can do is try to be there. It's up to him to reach out. The first time something like this happened, Ciel didn't even call me. I didn't learn what was wrong until after he nearly got himself killed and Chuck told me he was looking after him. I think he just needs to learn to recognize that we're avenues of support."
"That's… partially my fault," replied Dad, looking away. "I can see why he might be hesitant to talk to me, and you by extension."
A hand fell on his shoulder. "Honey, please. We're doing the best we can now, and we already made it clear we're here for him."
"But he didn't say anything. At all." A pause. "I'm afraid I'm bringing back memories. It was a bad time for him altogether, and I'm just conflating everything."
"Dad."
His face snapped back to the screen, and Laina knew she had him. His eyes were wholly fixed on her, and it was her job to set things straight where she could.
In truth, it was an awkward position to be in—she was the centerpiece of a war she could barely remember, and the entire reason behind nearly eight years of cold stares and silent dinners. One day, in the oh so distant past, Dad had hit her.
It probably hurt. She probably cried. And from Ciel's point of view, she could see why his opinion changed. But she was four, and the only Dad she remembered was someone who tried really dang hard to be there after his crappy job with a shaky hand and a firm heart, and she couldn't find it in her to hold it against him.
She was the only one who could stop him when he got like this, and she wasn't going to allow him to drown in guilt like an idiot too!
"You and Ciel worked it out. It's over," she said, firmly. "You're doing the best you can. Right?"
"Laina, please—"
"No 'pleases'. You're doing your part by offering, and that's the end of that! Done and done."
He fell silent, thinking, processing, until a chuckle crawled its way up his throat and spilled onto the floor. It gave him a minor hiccup afterward. "You're a big help, little lady."
"Of course I am," she said, puffing her chest. "I'll try to get more out of him, and I'll put that smile that's supposed to be there right back on his dumb face."
Her Mom took back the screen to say her goodbye and gave a small wave. "We really appreciate you looking out for him. Maybe it really was a good idea to send you with him, since most of his friends are still hanging around here. We'll talk to you soon, hopefully in person, alright honey?"
Friends. They were the ones who helped him through whatever he was going through when his Typhlosion—Quilava then—got seriously injured on his trip through Johto, which again she only really understood after the fact. Why can't people keep her up to speed?
"Uh, yeah. I'll talk to you soon, Mom," Laina said, and hung up before the call could spin off into a dozen "one more things". Laina collapsed the screen of the Poké GEAR and held it close to her chest.
Ciel never had a lot of friends for as long as she remembered. It's not like he was a jerk or a bully, and he was always pretty good to get along with in her opinion, if a little finicky when it came to meeting people. But he never did much after school, and she couldn't recall him ever going out of his way to hang out with anyone. In a city like Goldenrod, where you knew your neighbors and your neighbor's neighbors, he was an oddball.
Actually, he did spend time with one person. Her. He probably rushed home from school every day, afraid that something with Dad would happen again. It only chilled out right before he graduated, when they booked it to Mahogany. It was too late then.
The friends he made across Johto were the first real ones he ever had. She was paying attention during that phone call on their way to Oreburgh. Ciel talked to that Brent guy like he was terrified of ever forgetting him.
She flipped the Poké GEAR back open, scrolling through the contacts. With this, she had a plan, and now she just needed to put it together.
In a quaint little apartment in Cherrygrove, nestled between some empty Poké Balls and a set of ornamental hair pins, an old watch-model Poké GEAR buzzed. A dim evening had fallen on the room, the last vestiges of light slithering through the blinds. The device slid towards the edge by its uneven vibration, teetered for a moment, and then plummeted to the floor.
A pair of paws lunged to prevent its destruction. The creature's bushy, striped tail beat a rhythm into the floor as it played with its catch, even testing it between its teeth, though it quickly found the vibration hurt them.
A black-haired woman in a shawl of the same color appeared at the doorway, rubbing some sleep from her eyes. The gold accents on her clothing glinted with the dying shine. "Furret, what's the matter? Have you found something interesting?"
The Pokémon offered the device, and she squinted to read the screen. Her grogginess faded immediately, and she answered the call without another moment to spare.
"Greetings, is this Ciel Fauder? It's so nice to speak—"
The caller willed her to silence. Her brow raised, then relaxed, then creased with purpose as she listened closely.
Another voice called through the house, accent like a gentle country orchestra backing an energetic city song. "Hey, you're gonna miss the good part! The Sneasel Ninja's got him captured!"
She muffled the speaker with her hand and called back through the house. "Pause it, please! I think our friend needs a hero."
"Shit!"
He tightened his fist against the metal wall, feeling the crack yield more under the pressure. It was absolute, unbridled bullshit that they had to keep putting up with this Swanna chase, but as much as he wanted to put that opinion out there, he knew she'd call him out for being a hypocrite. He was no stranger to running for a downright stupid reason.
"If you're going to complain, just do it. I'm not plussed about this arrangement either," she said, hands shoved deep in her dress pockets that were already filled to bursting with her personals. Purses, she claimed, were out, and she was no longer a handbag slave.
"I'm not going to complain," he replied.
"You want to."
"Maybe I do."
"I still don't get why this happened, but I'm going to punch him in the jaw when I find him before he gets a chance to tell me," she said.
At least they actually agreed on that part, and he'd leave the punching to her. He'd already done it once before, and they never let him live it down.
The streetlight switched to red, creating a gap in the rushing river of vehicles. Cars pissed him off. It was easier to just fly a Pokémon, or take a bus, or walk like the legs he was given allowed him to, but instead the city had to be clogged with toxic fumes. He held a lump in his throat.
As she reached up to adjust her sun hat, her wrist wrung with a call, and she threw it out in front of him to stop him from crossing the road. He mumbled to himself after the sign flashed a red X and the current picked up again, cutting them off from the other street. She popped it open, probably hoping in vain that he would call them back, own up, and say he was sorry. Instead, she just looked baffled.
"It's Ciel," she said, then answered the call. "Hey, great to see you— are not Ciel."
"That's the blond twig?" he asked.
She slammed a finger to her lips and cupped the speaker to combat the roar of the road. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."
Some grating, little girl talk came through the line, and he could barely understand a word, though she managed okay while face-to-face with the caller. After a while, she snapped it closed with her hand, taking in a deep breath.
"So?" he asked.
"Let's find a Pokémon Center or a Comm Terminal."
"Why?"
"Just do it. Someone needs our help."
Help. That was always the deal with her, wasn't it? He locked his fingers together within the pocket of his hoodie, following without another word.
It wasn't his all-time favorite gig, but it was leagues better than whatever he had before. Helping people out was at least a little fun, especially if he was doing it with her.
It's not like he knew that Ciel guy too well, but he'd inadvertently helped put his biggest regrets into their neat little grave. That was worth at least a little compensation.
She hoped he wouldn't notice she was using his money.
His Trainer card swiped from his wallet, Laina had successfully reserved a video cart from the lobby of Eterna General Hospital. Hardly anyone was awake enough to use them past midnight, which gave her free reign—and the reservation cost less after hours, which was neat! She groaned into the mass of tech to wheel it down the hallway, and her sluggish pace made her victim to conversation.
"That's the fourth one this week. Are the police even on it yet?"
"The Gym Leader's handling it. I think."
Two nurses batted whispers like a tennis match, and they looked like their eyes were about to rot and fall out. She'd never seen people bend that far forward while standing perfectly straight.
"Galactic didn't attack anyone like this before. It's just gonna get worse." She was a pessimist, apparently.
"Don't say that." He wasn't. Good on him.
"You've seen it. If we aren't ready, we're going to be overwhelmed."
"They'll stop them before it gets bad. They did it before."
"Yeah," said the cynic. "Not good enough, apparently."
Their hushed fight disappeared down the hall, and to satisfy her own curiosity, she plugged the cart into a hallway socket and fiddled with it. It had both an antenna and a phone cord, so she fiddled with the former and prowled for some local news stations.
Eventually, Laina found something that said Eterna, but the spelling was off and there were a few more accent marks than she remembered—also, the newscaster was speaking in tongues. Ciel knew fourth grade Sinnohan to her kindergarten, and even he probably couldn't make it out.
The sharp-dressed guy onscreen stood in front of two blown-up photos. In one, a city shop was wrapped with police tape. In the other were two blurry people with weird green hair, the cameraperson clearly having taken it from a distance. Possible suspects? That was how that worked, right?
Dissatisfied, Laina unplugged the TV and took the clunky set of Poké Balls from her pockets. She said to herself, "Okay, everybody. Let's do some good."
A brilliant red flash swallowed the room, and when it vanished, five Pokémon took its place. Two were blissfully ignorant, greeting the night with natural attitudes, while the others coped in their own ways.
Arden stood without energy. His flames burned low above his slouched posture, and his fur looked an off color—it was even darkening around his neck, and she hoped he wasn't getting sick. He spared little attention for Lilligant's sensual motions or Brisa's attempts to rip the ears off his head with her beak, instead tracing a paw over the phantom of a scar on his stomach, like he remembered exactly how it felt. Mantis didn't respond quite as dreary, but his wings jittered, and he seemed unable to keep his legs in place for more than a second. Nervous clicks alternated from his huge claws.
Laina couldn't really focus on any of the others for much longer than a few seconds, however, because only seconds after the Pokémon appeared, a sickle was level with her throat.
She squealed on her way to the floor. A terrifying snarl gripped everyone with shock, Brisa in particular diving behind the cart to avoid a direct line of sight. Her breath coming out in bursts, Laina pulled herself to a respectable sitting position and tried her best to deal with the trembling, growling, suffering, fur-stood-on-end creature.
"Raven," she whispered, "it's okay."
The Pokémon snapped her head between everyone else, and one of her claws lashed out at nothing. Laina simply stood her ground and waited for it to pass. Part of it was probably that weird illness, but she knew it was not the only trouble.
During the entire trip through Eterna Forest, she had been angry. Anything she could lash out at, she did. It was the reason Laina continued to use Raven despite knowing Pokémon Trainers were supposed to rotate Pokémon when they got tired, as her savage, aimless rage shookt he entire forest and created an imaginary barrier to keep out wild Pokémon.
Laina had a decent guess as to why. However, she was worthless as a pet rock at offering meaningful words.
The most she could do was reach forward despite the danger. A swipe tore into her jacket sleeve, joining one Brisa left before, but she didn't back down. She poured everything into her arms to hold on as tight to the soft fur as she could.
In her arms, Raven slowed. Her frantic breathing fell to a more reasonable pace, although her species' natural level was still faster than humans. She dropped from all fours to sitting on just her front legs, and after a few moments more, she leaned her head into Laina's neck.
"That's right. You're not being you right now," she said, minding the sickle to gently stroke the Pokémon's head.
No one left in Sinnoh was who they were supposed to be, and she didn't know why that made her boil and bubble.
The other Pokémon looked on, like children cowering after Dad had a bad day at work. Brisa participated to the bare minimum and poked her beak out from behind the video cart.
Arden finally stepped forward, towering over their embrace. He leaned down, and his teal fur became one with the white—Laina also felt one of his paws wrap around her back, because she was part of this little whatever it was too.
She held on a while, mostly to put some words together in her head, not wanting the sentences to jumble on the way out.
"I don't know what's wrong," she said, "but we need to put a big ol' smile on Ciel's face. So I'm sorry, because I can't help you until we help him."
Arden made the first move and pushed open the room door, flames still barely sputtering above him. Raven eventually made the decision to slink in behind him, leaving her and the other Pokémon to catch up.
Laina burned some purpose into her hands by rubbing them together. She grabbed the phone cord and heaved behind the giant monitor. "It's about time we brought him back."
Here's some faces we haven't seen in a while. Perhaps it was unnecessary of me to write both of those scenes without names to properly identify them, but I liked leaning into visual details for those who read previous stories and can identify the cutaway characters like that. Regardless, we'll be seeing more of them shortly.
Next is Part 2: Choice, and I'll see you someday!