"Paul, I thought you were heading to the hospital?"
"I am!"
The young man slipped his last trainer on, exhaustion beginning to take hold before he'd even taken a step outside of the house. He was slowly becoming accustomed to his surroundings, although it was certainly a long time since he'd ever had to stay in the one place for so long.
The sooner he could move on, the better.
At the bottom of the stairs, Reggie was waiting for him. His brother greeted him with a faint smile. Yet Paul couldn't find it in him to return it. Every time he looked at his sibling, it was impossible just to see him. Instead, he found himself focusing on either the wheelchair or, if he was feeling extremely bold, a pair of crutches. He must have been having a rougher day given that he was back in his chair.
Paul passed him by, his gaze travelled round the main room, quickly settling on a familiar young woman busy folding away a sleeping bag. She glanced over to him, weary as always. He didn't stare at her for too long, deciding against trying to make some sort of a point. He wouldn't give her any trouble today. Not even so much as a passing remark, if nothing else, he simply didn't have the time right now. He was already running a bit late.
Maylene was stubborn in her own way. Paul was aware that with their history, he wasn't exactly her favourite person in the world. He'd never wanted to be. She put up with him however so as to spend every moment that she could with the eldest of the brothers. She would attend to whatever duties her position as gym leader required and then pay them a visit, spending the rest of her day with Reggie. She told him what was going on around Veilstone, of people who were asking after him and wishing him well. She did a few favours, helping him tend to a few of the remaining pokemon whose owners hadn't been able to swing by and pick them up yet. They sometimes talked and planned what they would do when he was better.
Paul tolerated the gym leader's presence only because, like it or not, she was doing his brother some good. He wasn't entirely sure if Reggie was just putting on an act or if somehow, by some miracle, the young woman was actively somehow affecting him but there could be no denying that whenever she was around, he seemed to get something of a second wind. He would replenish some of his strength and brighten up.
Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Paul paused in the doorway. He cast a glance back towards his brother.
"You got a message for him?"
"Just tell him to get back on his feet."
Paul nodded and with that, he was on his way.
The young trainer had grown to know the road that separated Reggie's house from the Veilstone house rather well over the course of the past few weeks. Since they'd moved the Pyramid King to be closer to his son's house. He walked down the little trail and into the city, a task which took him about an hour. He supposed that he could have called for a cab or asked someone else to drive him but he inevitably found that he preferred to walk. It allowed his mind to tick over without anyone else being around to question or to distract him.
He found that he didn't have much to say to the old man but Reggie couldn't make the journey yet, or at least not very often and Brandon inevitably wanted to know how his eldest's son was doing. So he acted as an intermediary and that was enough for him.
Physically, as far as he was concerned, all that Paul had to show his encounter with Team Galactic was a scar on the back of his hand. The skin had blistered and turned dry. It now remained an ugly red color which was difficult to dissimulate simply on account of where it was. Paul almost found himself wishing for winter to come along just so that he could put some gloves on without it looking too strange. Still, when compared to what Brandon and Reggie had and were still suffering through, it was nothing.
He preferred Veilstone hospital to the one they'd spent so much time in in Hearthome. Granted, some of that was presumably attributable to the sheer amount of trauma and stress he'd gone through in there over the course of merely a few days. Veilstone was smaller. There was less coming and going and panic, at least in the wards that Paul found himself passing through. The staff were all more familiar and most importantly, Ash and his little group of friends weren't around. At least not yet, to his horror they had promised to come and visit as soon as they could. Thankfully, they were yet to carry out their threat.
Paul made his way somewhat mindlessly through the lobby. He knew his way well enough to his father's room at this point.
"Hello there young man!"
Paul turned his head to face a blonde haired stranger standing nearby. He frowned as he looked at the middle-aged man. For whatever reason, the stranger seemed to be smiling at him. It wasn't just the usual sort of friendly smile that one would adopt to put someone else at ease when addressing them for the first time. There was an almost goofy affection behind the gesture which seemed all too familiar given that they'd never met before and which couldn't fail to get under his skin. Despite the glare, that he received the man didn't seem put off and remained standing there dumbly.
"I think you must have me mistaken for someone else." Paul articulated through clenched teeth, forcing himself to remain as cordial as possible.
"Certainly not. You couldn't be much more like your old man if you tried."
"Look, why don't you tell me what you want?!"
"I'm here for Solaceon."
Paul's temper boiled over. He clenched his fists, spinning round so as to face the man fully. He didn't particularly know or care just what the man was talking about. Perhaps he was a patient who had somehow managed to sneak out of his room and away from the men in white coats. It didn't really matter. All the trainer wanted was for him to leave him in peace. Ordinarily, he might have just ignored the stranger and gone on his way. As it was, there was something about the blonde which gave him the distinct impression that he was going to be difficult to shake off.
"There you are!"
From nearby, Cynthia accompanied by a somewhat confused looking Samuel strolled over. Instantly, Paul found himself concealing some of the hostility he'd been displaying earlier. He knew that she disapproved of such things and, over the course of the past few weeks, hadn't hesitated to ask him -albeit politely – to keep his interactions with others civil. He obliged, not being stupid enough to risk angering the champion.
She approached the man with a warm smile. One which the blonde man mirrored. Paul glanced between the two of them, as if somehow expecting to see whatever connection there could be between the two. If he had to guess, he would have said that the man was a little bit older than Cynthia, although given that he wasn't entirely sure how old she was that didn't give him much to go by. All that he could quickly piece together was that the two must have known one another, they were on good terms and that presumably, the champion had been expecting him.
"You two know each other?"
"Yes. Palmer here is an old friend of mine-"
"Palmer..." He's heard that name before and somehow, the smile felt almost familiar to him. "As in the Tower Tycoon?"
"That's me." The man's grin grew as he stood there. "I'm here to come and see your old man."
"Brandon?" He assumed that was what the man had meant by "Solaceon". Paul shook his head. "He's not too fond of guests right now."
That was something that had surprised the man's youngest son somewhat over the course of the past few weeks. Both the sheer number of people who wanted to wish the Pyramid King well and how he'd taken it. The man hadn't exactly been hostile but he'd seemed disinterested. He would be cordial but that was it. The man obviously took no real pleasure in their presence and made little if any effort to interact with them with anything much more than a grunt here or there. Even his old colleagues from the Battle Frontier and Samuel had been treated to the same relative indifference. Nobody seemed to take particular offence which Paul assumed meant either they knew him well enough to assume that he meant no harm or they just assumed that it was all attributable to the man's weakened condition. Cynthia, however, had had a different hypothesis:
"He's still in pain and he's lost a lot, for a man as proud as your father, that's not easy to wrap his head around."
That had made a fair amount of sense to Paul, not that he thought he had it in him to question his father as to his motivations.
Paul's words of caution barely even seemed to register with the Tower Tycoon. He retained his beaming smile and optimism which only seemed to have grown since the arrival of the Champion. Somehow, the young trainer got the feeling that such a flamboyant character was only going to serve to sour his father's mood even further.
"He'll make an exception for me!" Palmer declared confidently. "Now come on then, where is the old relic?"
"This way..."
Paul followed, driven by some morbid curiosity. He imagined that his father would give this man short shrift. Brandon could be impatient with certain types of people and that was on the best of days, so right now? The only likely outcome that his youngest son could imagine was that the blonde man was about to find himself on the receiving end of as much of a tongue lashing as the Pyramid King could manage right now.
That was if he could even make it past the trial of entering the room…
Brandon had always been as solid as his pokemon. To see him stricken was almost inconceivable. Paul knew from his own experience throughout his childhood that even if the man was sick or in pain, he would conceal it viciously against anyone who might be concerned by it. As if even offering a brief glimpse of his own mortality would reveal some fatal flaw to the world and perhaps himself. He couldn't do that right now, and so, for the first time in many people's lives, they found themselves faced with the Frontier Brain actually appearing both human and vulnerable. He would lie in his bed, unable to stand for any real amount of time. Usually, he could be found just looking out of the window longingly. Whether he was dreaming of being able to go out there or it was a ploy to conceal the burned ride side of his jaw and neck, Paul couldn't have said. Inevitably enough though, people seemed to find themselves looking towards the stump where the man's arm should have been. There wasn't much to see, save for an absence. The stay in the hospital had aged him somewhat, adding to the growing amount of grey in his hair.
That was the sight which greeted them that morning as they entered the room. Brandon shifted round to greet them. No doubt Cynthia had been here for some time already, he could see the seat where she had been sitting pulled up close so as to make it easier for her to chat with the man.
The Pyramid king's eyes were quick to latch onto the newcomer. Curiously, the blonde haired man didn't stop. He didn't hesitate or pause to take in the sight. Instead, he just smiled softly and entered the room. Crossing the distance separating himself from the bed with only a handful of strides. He contemplated the man only for a few seconds before asking in a voice far softer than he'd used before:
"How are you doing old timer?"
"I'm still alive." Brandon replied.
"Handsome as ever I see."
"Had to give you a fighting chance..."
Then, Brandon did something that Paul hadn't seen him manage since before this nightmare had all started: he smiled. It wasn't a fake, insincere or otherwise forced one either. There was a mixture of affection and playfulness there. It was something that actually, now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall seeing all that much from the man even on his best of days. If he laughed or mocked another, it was usually trying to make a point in a battle.
Palmer chuckled in response to the man's statement, a sly and teasing grin of his own marking his features.
"You're not seriously going to start pretending that you had more success with the ladies than me!"
"Only the ones that counted..."
"You two boys haven't spoken in how long and that's your first subject for discussion?" Cynthia folded her arms across her chest as she cast a bemused glance between the two of them.
"Can't let him score cheap points Cyn. Not even now..."
The woman huffed in amusement. Before drawing in closer along side Palmer. Brandon's smile shifted slightly, losing some of its intensity but still very much present. The Pyramid King's eyes softened in a way that Paul had never seen before. He seemed, vulnerable in those few instants. Certainly, the way that he looked at his supposed friends was unlike how he would have looked even at his own children. Like a child awakening in a hospital, confused and dazed to finally find their parents next to them.
"I'm sorry I took as long as I did." Palmer spoke eventually, a somewhat more serious tone taking over.
"I would have been more surprised if you'd been on time..." Brandon replied, his tone light enough to make it clear that he didn't take any offence. "Cyn's been here to keep me company."
"So has your son." Cynthia reminded him.
For the first time since they had entered the room, the trio turned their attention towards Paul. It oddly served to remind the young man that he was indeed in the room with them as opposed to a spectator watching from afar. He tensed up as their eyes rested upon him. Somehow, it suddenly felt as if he was intruding. Brandon took a few deep breaths, his left hand rested on his chest as he did so. He hadn't moved much from the doorway since he'd come in, too bewitched by the spectacle that he'd witnessed to do otherwise. The effect had been such that he had practically forgotten why he'd come here to begin with.
Now that he was here, he found himself with almost nothing to say. So it was Brandon who eventually broke the silence:
"How's your brother?"
"He's better..." Paul hesitated a few moments before deciding to explain himself just a little bit further. "He had one of his dizzy spells last night, so he's taking it easy this morning."
"Cynthia said." Brandon answered, causing Paul to wonder just why he'd bothered to ask to begin with.
"He hasn't had one in a while." The woman declared. "He's getting better."
Brandon grumbled but didn't bother articulating a response. Paul knew that he was capable of it now. He just chose not to because he didn't want to trouble them with what he was thinking. What the Pyramid King wanted most in the world right now was the same thing that his youngest wanted: for Reggie to be better. For the lingering effects of the poison which had struck him down to be out of his system and for him to finally get better. The Frontier Brain was silent and pensive for a few moments, looking down.
"You tell that boy to get better for me."
"He said the same thing."
"Is Maylene still there with him?"
"Yeah."
"Good..."
Paul didn't wait too long to find a way out. It was warm so he declared his intent to get a glass of water, offering to bring the others some coffee if they wanted it. He didn't need to leave the hospital but certainly to find a way out of the room for a little while. He promised to be back promptly. To his surprise, Samuel joined him.
The young man dragged his feet as he moved, stretching out the journey for longer than it needed to be. Already, he could hear the adults they'd left back in the room beginning to chatter amicably again. Weird… It shouldn't have bothered him. A decent son, he knew, would have been happy for him but then Paul didn't claim to be a decent son. All he could do was take note when something was out of the norm and this most certainly was. He strained his ear, listening for as long as he could before turning to his father's assistant:
"What's their deal?"
"I don't know..." Samuel shook his head.
"He must have mentioned if they were friends or something."
"Bra- Your father didn't talk much about his personal life. Hardly at all really and it really wasn't something I wanted to ask him about..." Samuel's voice trailed off a bit. "I sort of guessed he'd been married but that's about it. He never spoke of any friends… I guess he might have known Cynthia? I mean, he always wanted to watch her battles when they were televised but she's the champion, so I didn't think much of it."
Paul mulled over the implications for a moment. He hadn't ever thought that his father could ever be interested in another woman. It was stupid the teen supposed, his father was a being of flesh and blood and Cynthia was… well, Cynthia. Was it inconceivable that Brandon might not entirely object to such a beautiful, strong and capable woman spending time with him? Not very. Although it would certainly have been a first. For as long as Paul had known him, the Pyramid King had never once given so much as a second look towards a woman, no matter how pretty. When he was younger and angrier, his son had certainly looked and waited for a slip-up. To his never-ending frustration however, he never had. The Frontier Brain could be accused of a great many things but to his wife, even so many years after her death, he was apparently still ever faithful.
Even if, for some reason, the man had suddenly slipped and allowed himself to feel again, even just in the slightest, Paul struggled to believe that Cynthia could possibly have felt anything for a man who must have been… He paused, remembering that he knew neither how old his father was nor Cynthia – at any rate, the Pyramid King was older than her, hardly compatible in terms of personality and recently disfigured and crippled. It confused the young man to no end.
"Doesn't explain why she's spending so much time with him… She practically lives here!"
"Maybe they're just friends."
"You said it yourself, my father doesn't have any friends!"
"Well… Maybe you could just ask them?"
Paul scoffed at the mere suggestion. He didn't know Cynthia well enough to say but his father wasn't the sort to take such personal questions well. The teen shook his head, determined not to trouble himself with it any further. At the end of the day, it didn't matter all that much. He would stick to his initial assumption: their paths had crossed at some point in the past and now, guilt drove the champion of Sinnoh to look after the children of a man she had failed to protect and to watch over him until he was back on his feet.
He helped Samuel carry some of the plastic cups filled with coffee back to his father's room. The man was sitting up, a smile still plastered on the faces of the three that they had left behind. It seemed almost alien to Paul. It should have been a weight off of his shoulders to see his father finally with some life infused back into him, no matter how it had come about. Instead, it left the teen feeling hollow and confused. It had been a long time since he'd seen so many people looking so chipper, but not being in on it was almost enough to get under his skin to the extent that it became annoying.
Finally, through clenched teeth he asked:
"What's with all the smiles."
"Well, there has been some good news this morning Paul." Cynthia cut in, perhaps catching sight of the disapproving look the father was giving his son. "The doctors think that your father can go home next week."
"Next week?" It sounded so close for a man still practically bedridden. "Are you even ready yet?"
"Apparently..." Brandon grumbled. "Can't be too soon as far as I'm concerned."
Of course the man would want out. Although it was the first time that he'd confessed as much aloud. Paul suspected that the man had been so relatively quiet about it all solely because he was very much dependant on others right now, a situation which wouldn't settle well with the proud Pyramid King. He wouldn't want to be a burden on his friends and family, especially when they were already struggling with Reggie. It must have been maddening for him, a rock and a hard place. Suddenly, some of this seemed to make some sort of sense.
"Is that why you're here?" Paul turned towards Palmer. "To help us out?"
"Oh… Only for a little while until your family's back together." The man assured them. "Just until your old man is back on his feet. Shouldn't be long, right Brandy?"
"Depends, call me Brandy again and it'll be you who needs a doctor..."
Paul paid them little heed, somewhat grateful that there would be another set of hands to help, as annoying as they might have been. It was one step closer towards normality. One step closer to him being able to cut himself free once more from the ties which seemed compelled to bound them to the past.