A/N: Hey everyone. A few big things happen in this chapter. This went in a different direction than I thought it would, so I'd really appreciate feedback. I love hearing from you guys!

Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

I was really, really afraid of the Mauville Gym.

"I am really, really afraid of the Mauville Gym," I said to Murphy. Murphy, obviously, didn't reply, but rolled over with a purr and started batting at my shoelace.

"Stop that," I said, jerking my foot away. We were sitting at a park bench in one of Mauville's rooftop gardens, enjoying the fresh air. She seemed to like the mild sunshine and nice weather. Thorn, who I'd also released to roam for a while, had gone to investigate a nearby patch of flowers. I made sure to keep a close eye on him, knowing that he wasn't yet rid of his tendency to wander off when I wasn't looking.

"I mean it," I said, moving my foot away again as Murphy stretched out her paw to snag my shoelace. "And by 'it' I mean both about Mauville and my shoe. I don't want to have to buy new shoes. And I definitely don't want to stay here anymore." What good was being a trainer if I still was stuck in the same place?

I could have just left. But something about me balked at the idea of backing down, of admitting defeat. And I really didn't want to have to come back.

"I wish I'd never remembered about that stupid Gym," I said, chucking a rock into the nearby pond. It landed in the water with a satisfying ker-plunk. We'd been doing pretty well against most of the trainers near Cycling Road (besides a loss against a kid whose Slakoth evolved in the middle of our battle—not fun). I'd run into quite a few beginning trainers who'd defeated Wattson already—it couldn't go that badly, could it?

"What's the worst that could happen?" I said. "We lose the battle. But I won't lose you. Right?" I said, running my hand over Murphy's head. She purred. Thorn, over by the flower patch, paid absolutely no attention to me. I would have been offended, but by now I was getting used to his asshole-ry.

"We should do it," I said, staring out into the park. Trainers milled about in the grass and under the trees, playing with their Pokémon and challenging each other to skirmishes. They looked happy to relax in the sun, but I didn't want to sit around anymore. I was tired of sitting around. It was time to go be someone.

"Why are we doing this?" I said. We were standing in front of the Mauville Gym and I had never been so fucking terrified in my entire life. My hands were shaking, my knees were trembling, and I was pretty sure that I was as white as a sheet.

"Excuse me," said the attendant carefully. He was short and slim, with neatly combed hair and tidy clothes. I'd been standing in front of the Gym for about ten minutes now and he'd cautiously come out to check me out and make sure I wasn't loitering or planning on blowing anything up. "Are you going to come in?"

"No! Well, yes! Give me a sec." I brushed my hair out of my face, gulping nervously. The bright neon signs of the nearby shops clashed brilliantly with the metallic yellow paint and lightning bolts that graced the exterior of the Gym. Everything about it was flashy, high-end, powerful. I had never felt more out of place in my life.

I realized that I was clutching Murphy's Pokéball so tightly my fingers were starting to cramp up. I loosened them slowly and took a deep breath, licking my suddenly dry lips. "I'm going in," I said out loud, more for my own benefit than the attendant's. He raised an eyebrow.

"You got the first-Gym-jitters?" he said.

"No," I lied.

He looked a little sympathetic, which I guess was better than pity. "I was nervous before my first Gym battle, too," he said. "I was challenging Norman, and he was pretty nice about it, but somehow that made it even worse."

"Uh-huh," I said, less interested in his reminiscing than I was in not throwing up.

"If you get it over with sooner than later, it might be better," he said.

"Okay." I stared at the yellow paint, wondering when life had become so complicated.

He waited. I waited.

"Uh, I'm going in now," I said. The attendant nodded and stepped towards the double glass doors, which slid open automatically. He walked inside and glanced over his shoulder, waiting for me to follow. And I couldn't leave him hanging, could I?

I stepped inside the Mauville Gym.

The interior of the Gym was elegant in its simplicity. The floor was polished steel, scrubbed so meticulously that I could see my reflection in the shiny gray surface. Mauville's hired trainers milled in the corners and pathways, a few of them texting on their phones. Gleaming black pillars rose from the floor, and between them jumped red and blue arcs of…lightning? And at the far end of the long hallway there was what looked like a large generator, and a distant figure sat on a chair in the center of a raised platform. Wattson, then.

"Good luck," said the attendant.

"Thanks," I said. I'd need it.

I walked forward. My shoes squeaked against the hard floor. The trainers looked up, glancing at me. The texting trainers put their phones away, looking more attentive. A few of them made an effort to stand up straighter instead of slouching against the wall. Most of them were older than me. There were a couple who looked very young. I avoided their gazes awkwardly. I'd caught the Gym on a slow day, it seemed, because I was the only challenger.

I only got so far before running into one of the arcs of lightning that jumped from pillar to pillar. They crackled, filling the air with the fuzzy, bursting energy of static electricity. I carefully reached out a hand to touch one. The electricity snapped out to shock my hand, sending a tingling jolt of pain through my fingers. I yelped and leapt back.

There was a hastily stifled snicker from one of the nearby trainers. I looked up at him and glared as intimidatingly as possible. He was a young boy, probably younger than I was, with dark hair and a backwards-facing blue cap.

"What?" I said loudly.

"Nothing," he said, looking away deliberately. I stared back at the electricity that effectively walled me off from taking a straight path towards Wattson. We'd have to go around, then. I ducked around the gleaming black pillar and nearly tripped as my foot hit a switch embedded in the ground.

"Wait!" the trainer who'd laughed earlier spoke suddenly. "If you wanna press that switch, you have to beat me first."

I stared at him. "Why would I want to press it?" I said.

He stared back, his mouth hanging open for a second. "To solve the puzzle," he said, like he was explaining something very simple to someone very stupid.

"Puzzle?" I glanced back down at the switch. It was labelled with a small symbol of a lightning bolt. I pressed down cautiously with my foot and I did a double take as the arcs of electricity all around the room flickered briefly.

"Hey!" the boy said hastily. "Uh, battle? Hello?"

"Right," I said, sending out Thorn, who blinked and glared at me, clearly upset by his metallic, buzzing surroundings.

I won't bore you with the description of his Elekid, or how I had to call Murphy in because it turned out that Elekid can learn Fire Punch, or how the boy got so excited he tripped backwards and almost fell into one of the nearby electric traps. In any case, after a confusing few turns during which I figured out how to fight an Elekid (it was even faster than Murphy, which surprised both me and her), it was over pretty quickly. I nodded my thanks after he handed me a stack of bills and hit the switch with my foot. It clicked and the lightning walls that blocked off my path flickered and disappeared.

For a split second, I thought that was it and I could march right up to Wattson and demand my battle. And then there was another click and a buzz and the electric arcs appeared again, but in different places. Darn. It really was a puzzle, then.

My eyes wandered towards the closest switch, which was guarded by a shirtless blonde man with a guitar slung over his shoulder, and I sighed and approached him. His Voltorb was even trickier than the Elekid had been, but Thorn eventually figured out (without my help, even) that it was really nothing more than a big ball and started hitting it around with his vines. I got to press another switch.

There was a cheerful-looking older man with two bug Pokémon I didn't recognize at first. I later learned that they were a Volbeat and an Illumise, and both had the rather annoying ability to heal themselves. We barely managed to scrape a win, and even after he'd handed me my prize money I still felt severely annoyed at how long it had taken me. The next trainer was a girl, about my age, with a Volbeat, along with a grumpy, vaguely humanoid Pokémon that she called a Meditite. Another young man with a pair of Magnemite. And a lot more switches. I had to admit, it was pretty fun, battling trainers and navigating an electric maze. Whoever designed this Gym clearly knew what they were doing.

I sprayed Murphy and Thorn down with the last of my healing supplies after we beat the next trainer, an older-looking woman with her hair in a messy bun. She'd used a Plusle and a Minun, which were a pain; their strategy of darting around and throwing jolts of lightning everywhere made them hard to deal with. Beside my feet was a blue switch. I pressed it with my foot and the electric fields changed again, the red arcs of lightning that had previously been blocking my way disappearing with a buzz. Ahead of me was a long walkway and a short flight of steps towards a raised platform. On top of the platform was Wattson. He had his back turned to me, busy examining the generator behind him. Even though I couldn't see his face, I was so startled that I almost tripped over my own feet.

"Is that Wattson?" I asked the woman. She raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Great," I said. "Just great."

I took a deep breath. The rushing feeling of nerves, which I'd forgotten about in the adrenaline rush that came with trainer battles, was back with a vengeance. I was terrified, and I wasn't even the one doing the actual fighting. I had no idea how Murphy and Thorn must have felt.

This is the beginning, I thought determinedly, forcing myself to take one step forward, then another. This is it. Time to do something big.

I stepped up to the platform, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. I hoped I wouldn't trip, or worse, throw up. Wattson was right in front of me. He still wasn't facing me, but from here I could see that he was wearing a yellow jumpsuit in such a bright shade that it was almost appalling. Over his shoulders was draped a brown jacket printed with storm clouds and lightning bolts. It was a rather loud outfit and the garishness of it all only put me more off guard.

I cleared my throat. "Uh," I said. But before I could say another word he spun around.

"Challenger!" he said loudly, beaming at me. "You got past my rigged doors?"

"Yes," I squeaked. I tried to think of something cool and confident to say, but my thoughts deserted me. I could feel my knees shaking slightly as I stood in front of him. What was I expected to do in this situation? Bow?

Wattson laughed so loudly a few of the Gym trainers looked over to see what was going on. "Wahahaha! That's amusing! I think I'll have to make it more complicated—too many young Trainers like you have been getting past it! Now, what's your name, and how many badges do you already have?"

His booming voice and the sudden change of topic were enough to confuse me thoroughly. I blinked stupidly for a few seconds before answering. "Uh, Riley. A-and none?" My mouth was dry; I was so nervous I could barely speak. Wattson, despite his tacky clothes, was still a Gym Leader, and still pretty intimidating.

"A newbie, huh? I had you pegged for one!" Wattson clapped his hands. Before I could decide whether or not to be offended, he walked over to the wall and pulled out a drawer. I took a few steps forward to get a better look. Pokéballs?

Wattson grabbed two of the Pokéballs and closed the drawer. "You'll be battling these two, then," he said, grinning widely. "Ready?"

No. "S-sure," I said, clutching a Pokéball in one hand nervously.

"Then I, Wattson, will electrify you!" With a sweep of his hand he released a Pokéball into the air; in a burst of light, an Electrike appeared. Its sleek green fur shone under the glow of the lamps and it growled menacingly. I threw the ball in my hand and Murphy appeared, her pupils reduced to tiny slits in the bright light.

An Electrike. We'd battled our fair share of them before and both Murphy and Thorn were used to taking them out. I took a deep breath to calm myself. This was okay. This was something I was used to. Wattson seemed to notice my obvious nervousness and waited for me to make the first move; or maybe he just wanted to see what I would start off with.

"Fake Out!" And Murphy moved with blinding speed, slamming into the Electrike, which flinched backwards. Good. There was another small window of time for us to act.

"Bite!" Murphy latched her jaws into the Electrike's shoulder. It snarled and attempted to shake her off, snapping its own pointed canines in her face.

"Charge!" Wattson commanded, and the Electrike's fur suddenly bristled, sparks flying off it in bright bursts. Murphy leaped away, spitting in discomfort. I supposed a shock to the teeth wouldn't be the most comfortable thing in the world. Charge raised an electric-type Pokémon's attack power, right?

"Growl!" Murphy snarled intimidatingly and the Electrike looked briefly shaken, but it recovered quickly. "Quick," I said, "now use Bite again!"

"Spark!" But the Electrike was faster and it slammed into Murphy with surprising force, its whole body practically glowing with electricity. Murphy yelped and stumbled back, looking worn-down—already? Gym Pokémon were certainly a lot stronger than those of regular trainers. My heart thudded in my ears and I was still trembling, but with excitement. This was challenging. This was fun!

"Bite, and go for its legs!" I said, hoping that it wouldn't be able to move as fast if we took out one of its limbs. Murphy dashed forward but ducked down at the last second to go in at a lower angle than before. Her teeth fastened on the Electrike's left foreleg and it howled, thrashing about in an attempt to shake her off. Yes! I couldn't help but grin, feeling some of the anxiety fade away to be replaced by a thrill of excitement. I felt alive.

"Volt Switch!" I blinked, caught off guard by a name I hadn't heard before. Murphy was just as shocked as I was when the Electrike was suddenly surrounded in a gleaming ball of lightning that surged forward and crashed into her. She screeched and stumbled backwards, looking unsteady on her paws. Electrike was still surrounded in the electric sphere, which arced backwards and shot back into—

—Wattson's Pokéball? Some (or likely all) of my shock must have registered on my face because Wattson laughed and felt the need to explain.

"Never seen this before? Volt Switch lets the Pokémon that uses it to return and swap places with a teammate. And I'm picking—" he clicked the button on the Pokéball in his other hand. A beam of light shot out and a furry yellow Pokémon with a lightning-shaped tail appeared.

"Pikachu!" it exclaimed in excitement, bouncing in place. Electricity arced from its red cheeks as it stared down Murphy.

"Quick Attack!" said Wattson.

"Growl!" I'd hoped to minimize the damage, but the Pikachu darted forward with blinding speed and slammed headfirst into Murphy before she could react. She groaned and toppled over, hitting the ground with a thud.

"Come back," I said halfheartedly, recalling her into the Pokéball. Now Thorn was left. I'd saved him for second because he was good at resisting electric-type moves. I hoped he'd be enough.

"Thorn! Go get 'em!" Thorn appeared and turned back at me with his usual angry stare. He whipped around and stared at his bright, metallic surroundings, annoyance written in his stance.

"Mega Drain!"

"Double Team!" And suddenly the battlefield was full of Pikachu, their outlines blurred and constantly shifting. Thorn's vines pierced through one of them and had absolutely no effect, but the Pikachu copy he'd struck vanished.

"Poison Sting! Aim for as many of them as you can!" I said, feeling like I'd finally made a breakthrough. In a startling display of skill, Thorn twirled and shot a swathe of poison barbs out of the flowers on his arms, hitting the Pika-clones with wave after wave of the tiny glowing thorns. All of them but one disappeared—the real Pikachu, which stumbled back with a wince.

"Not bad!" called Wattson. "Pikachu, Slam!" The Pikachu leapt up and plunged downwards, striking Thorn in the head with its large tail. Thorn made an angry noise and backed up.

That Pikachu was way too fast. We needed to slow it down if we had any hope of doing real damage. "Stun Spore!" I called, and Thorn quickly released a cloying cloud of yellow spores right in the Pikachu's face. Yes!

"Slam again!" Just when I thought we were getting somewhere, the Pikachu bounded forward and smashed its tail into Thorn's torso again, just as quickly as it'd done before. "Don't forget what you learned in Trainer School!" Wattson called. "Electric-types can't be paralyzed!"

Damn. I'd wondered why the Electrike had never seemed to be very bothered by the move. Now I knew, although I felt a little angry that every other trainer would have known thanks to 'Trainer School.' "Use Mega Drain then!" I shouted. At least Thorn would have the chance to drain back some of the HP he'd lost.

"Don't let those vines touch you!" And if I'd had doubts about the Pikachu's immunity to paralysis, they were gone now. The Pikachu danced about with startling agility, ducking and hopping while Thorn flailed his vines around. It made a chirring sound that reminded me of laughter. Thorn retracted his vines and turned away from his opponent, giving a deadly glare.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. The stress was getting to me and I could hear my voice shake and feel my hands tremble. While we were both distracted, Pikachu slammed its tail into Thorn's head, knocking him backwards.

"Poison Sting!" I said. Thorn didn't move. He stared at the Pikachu, like he'd hadn't heard me speak. "Thorn! Poison Sting!"

Wattson was no longer laughing. He had a strange expression on his face. "Shock Wave!" he ordered.

The Pikachu lit up with electricity as it cried out and sent a bolt of lightning straight at Thorn. At the last second he attempted to move but the lightning bolt swerved sharply and struck him. His plant-like body convulsed as he cried out, then slumped to the floor. He had fainted.

Thorn had fainted. Murphy had fainted. And just like that, my brief run through the Gym was over. I recalled him, feeling like I was in a daze. For a second, when I was caught up in the thrill of the battle, I had honestly thought that I'd have a chance. But…

The Pikachu was beaming proudly and dancing about, sparks flying from its cheeks. Wattson recalled it with a quiet mumble of, "good work, but don't show off," and walked towards me.

"That wasn't a bad show, for your first Gym challenge," he said. The battle seemed to have calmed him down and he looked more serious than before. "You did a good job to counter Pikachu's Double Team, for one. And you don't crack too easily under pressure." I didn't know how to respond. Part of me felt I should thank him and I opened my mouth, but he beat me to it.

"I was surprised when you didn't know what Volt Switch did. Or when you tried to paralyze Pikachu. That's something most trainers already know." A stab of irritation broke through the haze of my thoughts.

"I've never been to Trainer School," I said before I could stop myself. "I didn't have the money."

Wattson looked at me. "I'm sorry," he said, and I could tell he really was. "Maybe that explains—no, I won't insult your ability as a trainer." he seemed to be deliberating with himself, deciding whether or not to continue.

"What is it?" I said, trying not to sound too frustrated.

"Your Roselia," he said. "Thorn, you called it?"

"He doesn't usually act like that," I said. "He listens to me most of the time—"

"That's not what I'm talking about," he interrupted. "A lotta rookies have trouble getting their Pokémon to obey them. That's normal. Most Pokémon, especially the really wild or really strong ones, need to get used to being commanded. I think your Roselia is sort of used to receiving commands—he did listen for a bit, didn't it? But I can still tell he—" he paused. "—he really doesn't like battling."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. Wattson had watched Thorn for all of ten minutes. "How do you know?"

"You don't?" Wattson sounded incredulous. "Kid, your Roselia was glaring like he wanted to throttle you. He didn't want to listen to you. He definitely didn't want to be here."

"Then why did he battle for me at all?" I nearly shouted. I felt tired and angry. Thorn had ignored me in the middle of our most important battle yet, we'd lost so badly it was embarrassing, and now I was being lectured by the Gym Leader.

"You captured him, didn't you?" countered Wattson.

I deflated. I had captured Thorn, hadn't I, even after he struggled so hard. He'd tried so many times to escape after I'd caught him. I thought it was his problem. But maybe it wasn't.

Wattson sighed and rubbed at the corner of his eye with one hand. "Listen…Riley, was it? Some Pokémon love battling and being owned. Like that Pikachu you just fought. But others…don't. And some other trainers'll laugh at me for saying this, but the Pokémon who hate battling, we shouldn't force 'em."

"Okay," I said in a small voice.

Wattson regarded me carefully, then smiled a little and clapped me on the shoulder. "Come on now," he said bracingly. "Cheer up. It wasn't all that bad. Think about this battle a little, what you did wrong, what you could improve—then come back and try it again."

Again. My stomach lurched. If I had to set eyes upon the inside of the Mauville Gym one more time I was going to go insane. "Okay," I said again.

"Good luck, kid. Keep up good work."

"I will," I said. I couldn't stand to be on the stage for any longer, so I whirled around after a mumbled "thanks" and bolted down the stairs and through the long room. The Gym trainers watched me. A few averted their gaze, but a couple looked sympathetic. "It was a good battle," one called as I plunged through the sliding glass doors and into the busy street.

I'd lost. I'd never failed something so important before. Most of my failures before now had been along the lines of 'too-bad-I-didn't-steal-that-guy's-lunch-it-looks-good' or 'I-shouldn't-have-dived-into-that-dumpster.' But this was something big. And I'd screwed up, although maybe my screw-up hadn't started from the moment I stepped into the Gym. Maybe it'd started earlier.

I made my way to the Pokémon center in a daze, all but shoved my Pokéballs at the nurse, who took them with a sympathetic look in her eyes, and spent a restless night curled up in my bed, thinking about the feeling of being stuck somewhere against your own will. A few hours after midnight, right before I fell asleep, I came to a decision.

I knew what I had to do.

Thorn glared at me with his beady black eyes when I released him, but it quickly faded when he noticed his surroundings; the colorful flower gardens, lush patches of grass, the bright blue sky. I hadn't taken him back to Route 117 since I'd caught him, afraid that he would try to run away. He looked calmer now that he was close to the place that he called home. Which made sense, in hindsight. As much as I'd hated Mauville, he had to have hated the bright lights and loud noises even more after he'd lived in the lush wilderness. He must have felt trapped.

I knew what that felt like.

"Thorn," I said. It took a couple tries, but eventually he turned towards me, looking extremely irritated that I'd interrupted his view of his old home. Maintaining close eye contact with him, I raised his Pokéball in my hands, my fingers shaking slightly.

Then I broke it in half. The ball split surprisingly easily into two sections, one red, the other white. A bright glow surrounded Thorn for a second, then it vanished and I was left with the image of a staring Roselia, looking at me with a blank expression.

"Go," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. "I'm sorry. Go." Thorn stared at me suspiciously, expecting some trick or trap. I understood the look in his eyes.

"I'm not kidding! Go on! Leave!" I flung the two halves of his Pokéball at my feet and made a wild gesture towards a patch of grass with my hand. The Roselia stared at the broken ball, stared at me, and turned its back on me to slowly took a few careful steps towards the tall grass.

I expected him, wanted him, to turn around. To stare at me or make some sound, to acknowledge that our time as trainer and Pokémon was over. But he didn't stop walking until the tall green grass swallowed him up and he disappeared from my sight. I picked up the two halves of a Pokéball and threw them in a trash can by the road.

I know you're hoping that Thorn would come back, that'd we'd work out all our problems and become partners eventually. You can imagine that if you'd like. You can imagine that we challenged Wattson again and beat him, that I taught him moves and tricks he'd never learn in the wild, that I evolved him into a graceful and deadly Roserade.

But that didn't happen. I never saw Thorn again.

The Roselia went back home.