I've been wanting to post a Grovyle chapter for a while now. Major spoilers for the game's story line, just so you know. You have been warned.

As had become his morning ritual, Grovyle found a nice, clear spot in the grey, predawn light and waited for the sun to rise. It really was an amazing sight, indiscribable in it's beauty.

His first night in the past had been horrible. Everything had been cold and wet, drenched by the lashing storm. The bright colours and vibrancy he had been eagerly awaiting were shrouded in darkness, the night sky concealed behind a thick layer of dark clouds. Even worse had been the panic, all consuming after Sol had been lost.

Something had gone wrong during the trip through the time tunnel. It had started out fine, tumultuous and confusing, but fine. They had been spinning around and around so fast in a tight circle, keeping a firm grip on each others hands. Grovyle had been terrified, but a huge grin had been plastered on Sol's face and she looked as if she were having the time of her life.

And then... Grovyle wasn't quite sure what had happened, had glimpsed only a vague shadow of... something behind Sol's shoulder, then suddenly she had screamed as if in pain and one of her hands was torn away from his grasp. He had tried, of how he had tried to hold on to her, but it wasn't enough enough. Bit by bit her other hand slipped out of his and she was pulled away.

When Grovyle had been dropped in the middle of the forest, he had immediately yelled Sol's name and torn through the foliage in search of her, heedless of the pounding rain and booming thunder. Fear, worry, panic, the past was supposed to be a happy, wonderful place but Grovyle had never felt worse. For all he knew, Sol was out there, alone and injured, a human in a

Pokémon world. Would anyone even help a hurt human? Or she could be dead. Lost in the time tunnel with no way out, perhaps. It may have even been possible that she had been thrown out in a different time, either years before or after Grovyle came out.

Before they had come here, they had decided in which order to get the Time Gears, starting with the easiest then working up to those better protected and with guardians. He had hoped that he would run into her at the first in Treeshroud Forest, had camped outside for a week in case she turned up, feeling worse and worse as each day went by.

Where was she? Was she ok? Was she lost somewhere in need of help? Should he hold off in searching for the Time Gears and instead look for her? But she wouldn't want him doing that, would she? Sol wouldn't want Grovyle abandoning the mission because of her.

All these thoughts tortured his mind until he could take it no longer. So he packed up his camp and thrown himself into the search for the Time Gears, trying to push the worry from his mind with little success.

The sun was now peaking over the horizon, bathing the world in a golden light. It was a symbol of hope, both for his partner and his quest. The sun was probably the only thing keeping him going without Sol by his side. In the future, where the sky was always a dark, dreary, charcoal grey, Grovyle had often seen Sol staring up at the empty sky as they walked along rocky paths or amid twisted, gnarled trees. Everytime, like their own small ritual, Grovyle would ask what she was doing. Sol would turn to him with a sad little smile and say, "I'm imagining the sun is up in the sky." Then, when they set up camp with the fire crackling to ward off the persistant chill as they settled down to sleep, she would lay on the ground and once again stare at the sky, regardless of whether they were in a cave or out in the open air. In a world frozen in time, there wasn't really much difference.

"Imagining the sun?" he would ask, different ritual, different question.

"Imagining the stars," she would answer, not turning her head.

Sol was like that, homesick for a place she had never been, missing something she had never had. Grovyle tried not to think about it. Life was difficult enough without torturing himself with thoughts of what could have been. If onlys got people nowhere. But he had listened when she talked, her eyes shining with an inner light, about the rustling of a warm summer breeze throught the trees, of ocean waves crashing against rocks, of twinkling stars forming pictures in an endless sky.

"How can you be so sure that's what it's like?" he had asked once.

"Because I just do," she had said and looked away, her voice filled with immeasurable sadness and loss, as if the planet's paralysis had happened only days before instead of centuries. Grovyle had never asked again.

And the world of the past was exactly as Sol had described, but there is a difference between hearing about something and seeing it for yourself. Just the variety of colours alone was astounding after living in a world of grey. How does one describe such colour to one who had never seen it?

Grovyle wished so very hard that Sol was there to see it with him. After the success of their quest, it would be too late to find her. He was all too aware what would happen, but he had hoped to spend these final days with his friend, not completely alone. All he wanted was to see her one last time, have the chance to say good bye before it was too late. What had been the last thing he had said to her, before going into the time tunnel? He couldn't remember, and that left him with a hurt he had no name for. Would he even be able to finish the mission without her?

Grovyle had never doubted the necessity of their mission, but he did doubt their chances of success. What could they possibly hope to accomplish against such imposible odds? But Sol had never let him give up, was always so sure of their abilities.

"You manage to put up with me but you think this is hard?" she would joke, or, "You know what the great thing is about life? It doesn't care if you think somethin gis impossible or not."

Sol believed so whole heartedly that they could do it, but had misgivings on whether they should. At first she was resolute, but the closer they got to their goal the more doubts niggled on her mind. She tried to bottle them up until she almost had a breakdown, and then it was Grovyle's turn to lend his strength.

"This effects more than just us," Sol had suddenly cried, tears filling her eyes. "Do we have the right to decide the fate of so many? We are effectively killing thousands of people! No, worse then that, we're snuffing out their very existance, ensurin they are never even born!"

"Sol," he had said, shaking his head. "It has to be done. Look around you, this isn't living."

"I don't want you to just disappear," she finally said. "Or me."

The last was added almost like an after thought, more for Grovyle's benefit than because she was actually concerned about it. Was she in denial about her own fate? Did she not care what happened to herself? Grovyle had never gotten the impression that Sol worried about disappearing but instead saved all her worry for Grovyle and Celebi.

"You must think I'm a coward."

"Courage is not the absence of fear but the will to press on despite it," he had told her.

"Grovyle and Sol had kept each other going. Grovyle never would have gotten this far without her, and not just because of her visions.

It hadn't always been that way. Grovyle remembered with some amusement their first meeting.

"Hey! That's my bush! Get your own!"

Grovyle looked up from the bush, a small number of not yet ripe berries hanging from its withered branches. It was a rare valuable find. Food was scarce and hunger gnawed at his stomach.

A human in black clothing, or at least Grovyle thought it was a human (he had never seen one before but this one more or less matched the image he had in his head) stood on the crest of a small hill above the bush, a white staff strapped on her back and arms crossed across her chest. Her long, light brown hair hung around a face set with determination. Her eyes were a startling blue, so bright among the bleak and dark surroundings, but they were the wrong shape, the iris oval instead of a circle. The eyes of a seer, Celebi had said, but both she and Grovyle knew that was only a guess, an attempt to explain away the unknown.

"I don't see your name on it," he growled. Not a very original come back, but come on, he was hungry!

"How about I carve it into your forehead? 'Sol's bush, don't touch'."

It had all gone downhill from there, and in the end a group of Pidgee had stolen the berries while they were caught up trying to kill each other. Cut and bruised they had stomped off in opposite directions.

What Grovyle wouldn't give to have his sarcastic, immature, secretive partner and best friend with him now. Sol was as far from perfect as a person could be, was a weird as they come, but hey, Sol put it best:

"Normal is boring. The search for normal is what fills people with regret, destroys dreams, leaves people wishing for more and wondering just what they did with their life. I'm weird, I'm flawed, I'm certifiably insane, and I'm proud of it."