Even without Michael's racket beside her disrupting her concentration, the task before her would prove difficult. With him digging through his bags of hardware supplies, it became nigh impossible. Latias knew she had nobody to blame than herself; her writing was just that bad. Half the list of needed repairs she drafted two days ago was illegible to her.

"What should we work on first?" Michael applied the pressure. Latias anxiously flipped her list over several times, looking for any line that would prove coherent. She was glad he couldn't read emotions like she could, or he'd know exactly how embarrassed she felt. He stopped digging through his supplies and looked over at her. "Seriously, just pick anything."

"The sink in the downstairs bathroom leaks badly," she rattled off the first line she understood at a glance. She watched as Michael returned to his search. "How did you comprehend this list?"

"I honestly just skipped any line I couldn't figure out," he replied, without even looking up.

Latias' embarrassment deepened further. "Think you can teach me to write well?"

Halting his quest and looking at her, he said, "I don't think you have the right hands for it."

She constructed a wordless sound of frustration within his mind.

"I don't see why it's really necessary. We could have handled that better with you just saying it to me as we went. I wouldn't get busted up over not mastering a more complex and less efficient communication method." His comments didn't help her feel any better until he continued, "Besides, I'll take any excuse I can get to hear your voice more."

"You really mean that?"

"It's been a long time since I had someone to talk to daily. Even better when it's so pleasant to the ear. Er, the head. Whatever."

Snorting out a laugh, Latias replied, "I'll take the compliment, however unartfully worded. Let's get to work."

"Grab my toolbox from upstairs, I'll take a look at this thing."

"Where is it?"

"It's next to the…" Michael paused for a moment. "Ah."

"I'm not going in there."

"Yeah yeah, I'll grab it." He started up the stairs before calling back, "One of these days I'm going to show you there's nothing to worry about."

"We have more important things to do today," she sent him while inspecting the dripping faucet.

"Your peace of mind is pretty important," he replied mentally.

"House first."

When he came back down the stairs, a metallic clunk accompanied every step. Latias floated up over the sink basin to make room for him in the small bathroom. He placed a large grey toolbox down next to the sink cabinet and kneeled in front of it. "Do you know how to read fractions?"

"Yeah," Latias let a bit of indignation into her constructed voice.

"Alright. Good thing, because I don't know if this thing is in imperial or metric," he continued as he crawled inside the cabinet with a flashlight.

"Imperial and metric?"

Images of two different sets of numbers appeared in his mind in response to her question, each one part of a different progression and related differently, measuring length and weight and size. She observed the mathematic interplay for a moment before cutting back in, "Why two?"

"Nobody can ever agree on- damnit!" Latias tilted downward in the air to see what caused a loud bang inside the cabinet. Michael's flashlight rolled around on the bottom, shining its light outside. He snatched it with a muted curse and pointed it back upward. "Nobody can ever agree on anything. Metric in Hoenn, imperial in Unova, god knows what else where else. I'm pretty sure there's a region that uses both interchangeably." An image with a wrench appeared in his mind. "14mm."

Latias dug in his toolbox for the pile of shiny metal wrenches, looking each over for a label. She had gone through most of them before she found one matching his description. Taking it in both claws, she ferried it almost reverently over to the cabinet, which Michael was already filling with pulses of frustration. Latias expected him to handle these jobs with the same enthusiasm he tackled assembling his machines. For the first time, she wondered if taking on the house's problems first might have been a bad idea.

After several metal clanks sounded from within, he handed it back out, sending her, "17mm." Latias took the tool from him and exchanged it for the requested size. The clanking sound resumed shortly after, along with the pulses of his irritation.

"What's wrong? You liked it when we assembled your boxes. What's wrong with assembling a sink?" An unarticulated proto-curse filtered back through her mental connection, and she said no more.

The shiny metal bar thrust back out of the cabinet again, and this time Michael didn't specify the new size silently. "Give me, uh, what is it. Five-eighths?" Once more she rooted through his disorganized toolbox before finding the next size and handing it back. After another muted cacophony, he slid himself out of the cabinet halfway. "Can you move shit with your mind?"

"If you want telekinesis, get an Alakazam. My physical influence on objects is very small."

"Damn. Was hoping you could save me some effort up in here," he muttered, returning to his earlier position.

Closing her eyes, Latias tapped into his. His flashlight's beam illuminated a clump of hardware at the back of the cabinet's top, corroded and rusted in place. She couldn't quite get a clear picture, with how he was constantly looking down at his tools and changing the angle he looked at the problem.

"Stop that, stop moving. Just look up at it."

"What, are you in my eyes? I'm not going to let you exhaust yourself again."

"I'm fine!"

"Like hell you are," Michael said, just before his vision went black. At first Latias thought he might have learned on his own how to block her out, far earlier than expected. After a few moments a gentle reddish glow filled the dark field, proving otherwise.

"Come on, why'd you close your eyes?"

"You're not using my eyeballs as your own. Not until our connection has settled to a point it doesn't require a lot of effort on your part." Though she made a frustrated noise in her throat, Latias didn't push the issue.

If he noticed, he didn't comment. "Looks like I won't be able to do anything before I disconnect these lines anyway. Can you hand me the big towel on the rack out there?" Navigating the confines of the small space, Latias once again wished humans had a little more consideration for those whose bodies were not vertically oriented. She tossed it over Michael's legs, and he quickly snatched it up before he wiggled out of the space and rolled onto his stomach.

More muted curses and frustration filtered back out of the cabinet as he worked at closing valves and unscrewing connectors. Latias drifted backwards out of the room, putting some space between herself and his negative emotions. She found solace in the fact that, if this was how he acted when angered, she had not yet earned his true ire.

A fourth mind entered the range of her emotion-sense, drawing her attention from Michael's annoyed antics. Someone was approaching the house, emanating hope, anticipation, and anxiety. "We have a visitor!"

Michael drew out a groan as he slid out from the cabinet and stood. "Just when I actually accomplish something, figures. Who is it?"

"I have no clue, can't see through walls."

"Funny," he said as he brushed rust flakes from his shoulders. "Hide or stealth up or whatever, I'll tell you if they're coming inside."

Latias drifted upstairs as he walked towards the front door, and secured herself in the study. Both Ninetales sat on the deck, and upon her entrance behind them they paused their contemplation of Palatine Light to regard her. She waved at them as she settled into her makeshift bedding and tapped into Michael's sense of hearing. She didn't want to be stuck listening to one side of his conversation. Her defiance of his earlier orders brought a bout of smug satisfaction.

The new mind stopped outside the front door, and a measure of confusion entered its emotional mix. Latias made a mental note to add 'broken doorbell' to her list of repairs; she hadn't written down any external problems on her first pass, even ones she'd already known.

Michael answered the door a few seconds after the new arrival finally knocked."Ah! I didn't expect the notes to be delivered in person," he exclaimed. "Cathy, was it?"

"Yep! I thought I'd stop by, figured it'd get lonely out here with no neighbors."

"Can be," Michael replied. "I've been keeping busy though. This place needs a lot of work."

"Looks it. Here you go," There was a rustle of heavy paper before Cathy spoke again. "Have you had a look around the island since you got here?"

"Hadn't really the time."

"I could give you the grand tour, if you want."

"That's generous of you," Michael replied slowly, "but I'm a little tied up here at the moment. You caught me in the middle of dismantling a sink."

"Another day's fine," Cathy said, undeterred. "As long as it's soon! You live here now, you need to see all the places we don't tell tourists about. You need a native to guide you around all the secrets. There's a really great restaurant far off the backroads for example, wonderful place to have dinner."

Something about the last line caught Michael off-guard, and Latias felt his mind shift gears. "How about I stop by the café tomorrow morning. We can go over it then?"

Cathy's emotional signature executed a set of complex jumps and interactions, concluding with a muted victorious contentment. "Sounds like a plan. I won't keep you any longer; this place needs all the help it can get. See you tomorrow!"

"See you then. Thanks for getting this to me so quickly." Shortly after, Latias heard the door close through Michael's ears. She opened her own door and floated back down the stairs.

Michael was standing with his head against the inside of the front door, a thick paper packet under one arm. "What's wrong?" Latias asked after a moment.

"I think she wants to go on a date with me."

Latias only knew of the concept in the most abstract sense, from snippets of Clayton's memories shared long ago. Then, at least, it seemed very positive. "Is that a bad thing?"

A flash of anger coursed through Michael's emotions, but she felt him push it aside. Instead, he just sighed loudly. "Last woman I dated died not too long ago, Latias, sometime after I married her. Not the most complex concepts at play here, come on."

"You're not talking to another human. Forgive me for not knowing every social intricacy."

"Right, I'm discussing my love life with a damn pokémon."

"With a friend," she replied, doing her best to strip her own mounting irritation from her mental voice. "I want to help, if I can. You didn't just turn her away. What's on your mind?"

"This thing we have, I think it's great," he said, sitting on the second step of the stairway. But yesterday you reminded me I used to have so much more. There's things you can't do, and more you're probably not willing to. It'd be nice to have some of that back."

Latias bristled, though tried her best to hide it. She might not be able to do some things, but she could simulate an awful lot in the right conditions. Unwilling, however, was more accurate; memories of moving around this very house with someone else's face and voice momentarily surfaced in her mind. The implication underneath hurt her the most; that she was incapable of being what he needed her to be. It might just be her blindness to human customs again, but Clayton never needed anyone else.

"But I don't know if I can get back into that game. I don't know if I want to," he continued. "It won't be the same, it can't be. Even if we hit it off, she'll never be able to replace my family, that's something I'm never going to get back."

Floating close, Latias dropped to eye level in front of him. If he needed guidance, she could at least try to provide him direction like that she received. "What would they want for you?"

Underneath his confused expression, Latias could pick up a half-formed comment in his mind about how strange a question that was coming from her before he answered. "Well, Mara wasn't one to dwell on the past," he began slowly. "She was too nice for her own good anyway. Everyone else's happiness came first. She stood by me through things I'm sure would have earned me a divorce from anyone else." He dropped his head into his hands. "Just makes it feel worse in a way, like I'd be taking advantage of her."

Beneath the level she normally skimmed, Latias could feel his thoughts spiraling down on themselves. His mood had already darkened considerably. She tried to throw a psychic wrench in his mental corkscrew. "Stop that. You're making this harder on yourself."

"You're not making it much easier."

Once more, Latias pushed aside her umbrage. "Listen, I was fortunate. Clayton told me what he wanted of me. To know other people as I knew him. Like I said yesterday, that's why I'm here." Latias settled to the floor at the base of the first step, placing her claws on his knees and looking up at him from between his hands. "You didn't get that blessing. But it sounds like she'd want the same. There's a chance of happiness for you here. It might be slim, might not fix everything. But it'd be worth a shot. I'm sure she'd tell you to chase it. Tell you to not dwell on the past."

"Fine. I'm not going to say you're right, I can't know that, but I'll give it a shot. Worst case; I find there's really nothing there and just walk away."

"Good! Tomorrow." Latias lifted back into the air, not quite reflecting her heavier heart at this conclusion, however good she felt it would be for him. "Now, discussing love life with a pokémon concluded. Shall we get back to work?"

"I, uh," Michael stood as well, slowly. "How about we come back to this in a little bit."

Latias snorted. "Always so eager to not work on house. Such a distracted man. Why even buy a house that needed work?"

"Honestly? Thing was dirt cheap, priced to move." He barked out a hollow-sounding laugh. "I'm retired young, living off patents and royalties. I have money, but not an endless supply." His mood related no signs of deception, but neither did it show any levity to accompany the lighthearted delivery. Latias guessed this only answered the question in part.

"And…?"

The response earned her a short but hard look before he relented. "And I thought I needed a big project to lose myself in. I didn't know there'd be one here waiting for me, in the storage system project."

"There's many other things to occupy you here. Why a house? You were angry while working on the sink. This doesn't strike me as your first choice."

His hard look returned. "You're asking an awful lot of questions. What answer will satisfy you?"

"The full answer."

"Would you rather I had not moved in? Sounds like you're wondering why I'm even here."

Eyes wide, Latias recoiled from his suggestion. "No, not at all!" Then she let sarcasm replace shock in her voice. "Besides, I'm the one who's not good enough. You had so much more."

"That's not even about you!" Michael said, exasperated. "This is totally different. It's, how can I explain it…" As he trailed off he fixed her with a look she hadn't seen him wear before, an exaggerated form of the frustrated confusion that suddenly gripped his emotions. "Why would I have to explain it?" His expression deepened, striking a note of fear in the back of Latias' mind. From his mind she heard him answer himself, "If she didn't already know." Then, aloud, "Just what were you to him?"

His question resonated with other questions of her own. Questions that outlasted Clayton. Questions she tried to bury. Instead of answering, she tried to deflect. "I told you our first night with this." Meanwhile, she started drifting to her left. She could get around his reach and leave by the open back door if she had to…

"No, you told me what he was to you. And even then you said some flowery bullshit that sounded strange to me, but after your little clarification I didn't think too hard about it. But now it sounds an awful lot like you can't really tell the difference between a man's bond with a pokémon and a romantic relationship."

Latias was about to execute her escape plan when something within Michael's emotions snapped, the building fury all at once replaced by the shock of understanding. "He had you pretending to be his girlfriend." She looked away from him, but didn't move any further away, holding place even as he stepped closer to her. "Yesterday, when you told me he used to have you play dress-up, you were very adamant you and this Anne character were two different people. He treated them very different, didn't he?"

"It was the only way he'd appreciate me!" she snapped. Her focus was shot; the message transmitted louder than she had intended, and without her putting sufficient care into her speech each syllable echoed before and behind itself. Michael winced at the mental noise. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No it's fine, don't worry about it." In contrast to her outburst, his voice was much gentler than it had been. "You played along because you wanted his approval. You'd take it any way you could get it. He sounds like he was a neglectful fath- no, he sounds like he was really your trainer."

"He never captured me," Latias controlled her voice better, but didn't scrub all the anger out of it. "He never made me fight."

"No that's not what I mean. That's not all there is to it, there's…" Latias sensed a bunch of thoughts piling on top of each other in his mind, fighting over which would be said first before he banished them all. "Forget it. I'm going upstairs. Do something productive, and clear my head. I didn't mean to tear down your old friend." Michael turned and stomped up the stairs, out of sight.

After his departure, her desire to flee had itself fled. Now alone in the living room, Latias tried to collect herself. Michael had dug up so many of her memories she didn't want to face. He was not wrong in his assessment, and the path her previous connection had taken towards its end she struggled with, when she allowed herself to think about it. From the many times Clayton blocked her out of his mind to his final, incomplete, and indecipherable thought, living with him after his stroke was difficult. But Michael had cut right to the heart of it, stripping the trappings – and the context – away. Now he saw Clayton as a despicable man, and Latias wasn't entirely sure how she'd show him otherwise.

The fact that the two men who shaped her life didn't agree on her, wouldn't have seen eye to eye, was the distressing heart of the matter. Her existence had been a continuous sequence of events; Clayton leaves her here, she watches his home and carries out his wish, Michael moves in, she befriends him and her life will resume. Now, though, the man she had here thought the man responsible for putting her here was wrong. Her continuity was broken, and she was left questioning why she had done all this. She had to wonder what she had left.

Even without a clear past or future, she had the present, the current moment. In that moment, she had a connection to a man. And always, she had the ability to sense and intimate knowledge of emotion. What could it tell her?

Latias recalled the conversation they had about her lack of a name. He felt negatively about Clayton then too, but he had given her a reason. To him, it represented a matter of respect, he wanted to give her what she was due. He was angry for her sake, because he felt until now she was owed but denied. Above her, his emotions painted a storm of disillusionment and irritation, and she could hear deeper layers of his mind shouting into gusts of the abstract and imaginary. Like then, his outrage now emerged as an expression of the care and concern he had for her.

He felt negatively about her history because he felt positively about her now. If he cared about her, he was worth holding onto. That was something she could hold on to herself, and something she could work with. She could still reconcile the man she had and the man she has.

She slowly ascended the stairs, following Michael's roiling emotional beacon to the computer room, stopping outside its open door. Flufftail sat inside, and saw her approach, letting out some muted mixture of a whine and a bark.

"You can come in, I shut it down," Michael subvocalized to her. She couldn't confirm his statement, this room was long enough that from its doorway she couldn't see either corner, Instead, she arranged feathers on each arm to a mirrored surface, and used it to peer around the door frame. To her left, the corner-poles that she knew acted as the machine's eyes, ears, and claws no longer stood, resting face-down. To her right, most of the equipment in the rack that controlled Michael's system showed no life, only a single panel lit and working. His grand machine was incapacitated.

"He really did care about me, you know," Latias tried to insert into the middle of his mental tempest as she closed the distance. "At the end, just didn't really show it. He devoted much time and effort to me. To my safety and security. He wouldn't have if he didn't love me."

Michael didn't respond, though half-formed arguments drifted on currents of indignation to the top of his mind. He continued working on the bracer-gadget in front of him, with his back to her. She took the silence as a sign to continue.

"Our connection was rough towards the end. But he'd always respond positively to Anne. So I took her face full-time. I had many happy years with him prior. He wasn't a bad man, I regret nothing. In the end, I was with him."

In his mind, she caught him equating 'in the end' with the moment of Clayton's death, rather than what she had intended. A question started forming around it, but through his mental tempest he instead filed it away deeper. Afterwards, for a single instant, his unformed arguments aligned and his mind crystallized. "He still used you, even before you surrendered yourself." His final two words sounded heavy and acidic.

"It was my fault. When I first practiced-"

Michael finally turned around to interrupt her. "No, that's not your fault. Nothing about his treatment of you was. And I refuse to follow suit. I'm not going to make you play my dead wife." After staring at her a moment, he turned back to his work.

The dark, roiling clouds in his mind wouldn't release him. Latias felt the need to do something to help, but wasn't sure what. Eventually, she placed her head on his shoulder against his neck, as much to let him know she was still there as to watch him work.

"Is he the one who made you afraid of being caught?" Michael finally broke the silence

"No. I was scared of all humans. He showed I only needed to fear some. Towards the end, he wanted me free. Wanted me to interact with more people. But I was always afraid, I still am."

"Because you don't want to be a slave."

"Accurate."

"What if I could make it so you can't be caught?" Latias never thought such a thing was possible, besides already being owned by someone. Michael continued in her silence. "I have an idea, but I can't make any promises yet. Either way, I want to help you move on."

"That would be very kind of you. Thank you. I don't know how I'd repay you."

"Don't. And especially, don't feel some obligation to patch the holes in my love life. Leave that crap behind you. Just be yourself."

"I'll be Latias," she replied, though she no longer knew what Latias should be to him. "But someone needs to patch the holes in your love life, if not me. Tomorrow, get your Anne."

"I will." After a pause, "I never answered your question, fully. I chose this place because Mara always wanted a home on this island. Even if she wasn't around anymore, I could do that for her. But I'm terrible at handyman shit like plumbing and carpentry. And now I found a project where I can look forward, instead of back. One thing you were right about before; she would scold me for being stuck in the past if it made me miserable. We can work on both at the same time, but if you want to repay me, let me do this."

"I will."

The storm in his mind was finally receding, and Latias didn't want to risk its return, but…

"Those holes that need patching. No obligation, but of my own free will?"

Michael ceased his work mid-command. No sooner did she detect a huge shift in his thought process, he filled her window to his deeper mind with static, a wall of rehearsed mental gibberish. He wasn't truly blocking her out, but it served its purpose as an obscurant. His emotions were still accessible, but so many of them overlapped she couldn't tell which was which, and all were buried under a heavy blanket of forced composure.

"We'll see, if we get there."

Latias picked her head off his shoulder, afraid she'd offended him. He couldn't maintain his defense against her for long, but once she'd regained full access nothing was left to tell her why he'd done so, and his mind was now perfectly calm. She didn't want to leave him quite yet, though, so settled down beside him at a distance she felt polite, and watched him work.


"I know you're there. Mind telling me why?"

Latias maintained her invisibility despite Michael's discovery. She looked back at him from the front of his dinghy. "It's fun up here when you go flat out!"

He frowned from behind the short control panel, and his eyes found her in the most general sense. "Alright, I'll give you that. But I meant why you are here, with me?" The wind created by their swift passage muffled his words.

Wasn't it obvious? "I'm coming with you."

A noticeable wave of irritation washed out from him. "You weren't invited."

"You can't keep me home. She won't keep me from you."

Michael looked back to the distance ahead. "So this is why people keep their pokémon stored," he mumbled, inaudibly but easily carrying through their link.

"I heard that!"

"I don't care." He sighed as Latias felt some deeper mental activity, like he was sorting something out in his head. "Just stay invisible, alright? Showing up with Anne would raise questions. You can come along for now." He emphasized his final two words.

Latias snorted and turned to face forward again. "This is very fun though. Very different than flying over the water."

"I'm not even going full throttle."

"Why not?"

"No need to risk it, it's not very safe. A tiny boat like this going thirty knots would probably throw you right off the front the first time we hit even a small wave. The bay's protected water, but it's not exactly glass."

After she thought about the problem a moment, she responded, "Stop the boat."

"Why, something wrong?"

"Just do it. I want to show you something."

Slowly the dinghy shed speed, eventually dropping back into the water rather than gliding over it. Latias focused on the water in front of them, recalling another of the storm-taming powers Clayton's borrowed tutor-box had taught her. With some careful adjustments of the water's surface, a large path before them smoothed out to complete stillness.

"That's pretty damn incredible," Michael said after he finally found his tongue.

"Playing with the sea isn't as fun as lightning. It's still a nice way to pass the time! Now can you show me full throttle?"

"I guess I could try. I'd still hold on if I were you; steering gets finicky in a boat this small at that speed."

Raising her body out of the little depression in the front of the dinghy, Latias settled on the padded platform just behind the bow's rim, grabbing the handrails on either side. Once more the boat's nose tilted up as Michael supplied power, leveling out again as the force pushed it out fully and the dinghy rode atop the water's surface. This time, however, the tiny craft kept accelerating.

Though she kept part of her attention focused on keeping the water ahead of them still, she still immensely enjoyed the exhilarating experience. Instead of gliding as it did before, the boat seemed to be in a constant state of skipping across the water, jumping between the perturbations created when she released her control of the water too soon. The sensation was breathtaking, even literally when she encountered a hard impact or two.

Their rapid pace delivered them to the town that much quicker, Latias' perception of time's passage further reduced by her amusement. Despite her efforts maintaining a smooth path, Michael slowed them down once they found themselves among the sparse number of boats at the edge of the mooring field. Latias abandoned her efforts and slumped back into the forward footwell. She spent the rest of their approach peering over the gunwales at the many different varieties of vessels they passed.

"I'll stay invisible like you asked," she said as she drifted out of the boat while Michael tied it to the dock. "But I'm not leaving. I can help give you the tour!"

"Yeah, alright, fine." Michael replied silently. He stood after completing his task and walked towards town at a brisk pace. "No further though. I can't force you but I'd like to request you not hang around watching us eat."

"I'll probably feed myself. It's been a couple days anyway."

She watched Michael's almost trip over a hitch in his step at her comment. "What! Days?" His voice came across so loud she wondered how close he'd been to saying it aloud. She sent back a laugh.

"You humans eat constantly, it's so strange. I eat twice a week, though I've gone longer. Also after every major exertion. Last time was after our abortive boat trip."

"Gone longer without food? What, are you a dragon as well?"

"I suppose."

"Sparkles could hurt you pretty bad, tread lightly around her." Concern and pride intermingled in his mind, a mixture eluding her attempts to source. She would have to avoid the blue fox's wrath in the future, though she trusted Michael to intervene should something happen.

"I can't even get her to notice me."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Sometimes I think she lives in her own world."

As far as Latias was concerned, information like typing was only useful as human battle-knowledge, their complex system of classifications mostly eluding her. Some was self-evident; she knew her emotion-reading ability was very rare among pokemon, and that contributed to her nature as a Psychic-type. The rest remained mystifying.

"What does being a dragon mean anyway? Why does it matter? I thought that was battling stuff, you weren't interested."

"I picked up a lot from the medical and trainer support teams in the pokemon center. When you work in an environment like that, it filters down. A lot of dragons have some sort of gorge-fast eating habit where they could go a week or more without food. It doesn't really matter if you are or not, just an interesting curiosity"

They turned down the street Tide Street Café occupied. Though muted by walls and distance, Latias could tell it was packed with the late-morning crowd. "I think I'll stay outside," she sent as she gained altitude, coming to a stop above the building. "I'll listen in."

"I don't think it'll be long," he replied mentally. He didn't have to voice his displeasure at the prospect of her using his senses, his emotions broadcast that message plainly enough.

As she settled to the rooftop, Instead of just his hearing, she settled into all five of his senses, immersing herself in the environment of the shop he navigated. Delicious scents filled the air inside, hinting at treats even she couldn't deny, despite disliking most human food. Michael surveyed the occupants as he walked to the counter, and Latias matched them to emotional signatures beneath her. Constant murmurs of a dozen quiet conversations added atmosphere, but didn't drown out Michael's greeting once he reached the register.

"Sam?" Cathy called to the kitchen behind her. "I'm out. Rush is ending, should be smooth sailing from here." An unformed affirmative returned, but Cathy hadn't waited, immediately sidling through the half-door between the counter and the wall. She faced Michael with a big smile. "Let's see how we're going to do this."

"You're the boss."

"First, how'd you get here? Do you have a way to get around?" Cathy asked.

"Came by the water," Michael said. "Walked from the docks."

"In that case, we could pop over downtown just to grab a moped for you, or you can take the backseat on mine. Up to you."

He didn't immediately reply, drawing Latias' curiosity. Half-formed reservations swam about in his mind while he considered the question, reluctance dominating his emotions. Eventually, he answered, "I guess I can stick with you."

"Great! We won't have to waste any time in the tourist trap then. Place is big enough as it is." She turned to face an aerial photo of the island set into the counter. "I'm not going to take you everywhere, obviously, but there's a lot off the beaten paths here that's worth taking note of. Now then," she turned back to face him after vaguely indicating a whole two-thirds of the island, one of the most useless gestures Latias had ever seen executed, "second question: Do you like seafood?"

"I'm a pretty big fan of seafood," Michael said with a laugh.

Cathy grinned. "That's all I needed to know."

The reservations Latias picked up from Michael only increased once outside, where he was handed a helmet. "What's wrong?" Latias finally asked.

"I haven't been in a land vehicle in a couple years," Michael subvocalized while he adjusted the helmet's chin strap. "I still can't trust cars. Maybe this little thing will be better, though."

"I can hold onto you," Latias ventured. "I'd be able to protect you if something happens."

A flare of indignation was quickly supplanted by honest consideration in his mind. "As long as you don't affect the ride; she might notice the weight. Actually, I'd appreciate it a lot. Thanks."

"Are you alright?" Cathy asked. Concern played across her face as she stared at him.

"Yeah I'm fine. Why?"

"You looked spaced out there. Staring off to the distance or unfocused or whatever." She gave him a short laugh, "I was worried you were traumatized by scooters or something."

"Nah nothing like that. Don't worry about me," Michael said as he sat on the seat. Cathy took the driver's position. She looked down to key the ignition just in time to miss him jump as Latias grabbed his shoulders.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!"

"No worries," came his silent response. "I don't know how your levitation works. Is she going to feel some sort of force against the rear?"

Latias thought about the problem for a moment as she positioned herself over a plate extending off the back of the moped's body. "I don't know, did you just feel a change?"

"Nope," he sent as the moped roared to life.

"Hold on to me," Cathy said as she rolled the machine out of its parking shed. "Just don't get too handsy."

From her pseudo-perch on the back of the moped, Latias had little trouble staying in place as Cathy turned towards the undeveloped regions of the island and maneuvered through the turns. Floating a foot above the rear plate, she moved perfectly in sync with the little vehicle, swaying only when it banked, tilting when it did. Her abilities exempted her from gravity; Michael's shifting in its grip during these same maneuvers felt very strange.

Their first stop wasn't too far away. Latias recognized it as part of the park complex that also abutted Manisees' Pokémon Center. She preferred this place over many other areas of land on the island, but not the portions of it so close to town: Often, like now, trainers and their pokémon occupied these spaces, which kept her away. As she saw Cathy's enthusiasm become buried under irritation, she wondered if the woman felt the same.

"This is one of the island's many protected areas of land, though the only one fully developed as a park." Michael moved to get off the moped, but Cathy quickly added, "Oh we're not stopping here now. Maybe another time. Let's keep moving."

Confusion registered in Michael's mind as he mounted up again. "Why not?" The resumed wind carried the question to Latias' ears, and apparently away from Cathy's, as she didn't answer. He asked again, louder.

"We don't need to be hassled by trainers," Cathy called back.

"You're not fond of them either, huh?" Latias was afraid for a moment Michael's 'either' referred to her, before she remembered the negative connotations that rode on the word in his mind the previous day.

"No!" Cathy's voice once more filtered back through the breeze. "If they want to kill themselves with their little engines of destruction, they can do it far away from me!" Umbrage simmered beneath Michael's emotional makeup. Upon closer examination, Latias found two slightly different types, for two very different targets. A little thrill sprouted from the prospect Cathy had already managed to diminish herself in his eyes.

"There's more than just that section to this park," Latias sent him as they transitioned from asphalt to a packed dirt road. "We actually just entered it. The center of the island is one big park. It wraps around the main section of town." Michael didn't respond, but some part of his mind registered this as an interesting fact, enough to satisfy her.

The pair of humans and their covert passenger darted off towards the center of the island, where a small, low plateau marked its highest natural point. Many artificial structures, strange-looking to Latias' eyes, augmented this elevation claim. To her relief, Cathy stopped the moped at the base of an access road.

"From here you can get to the small airport and the satellite center. Besides the ferries, all our connections to the outside world sit up there. We're not going to go up, but this is one of the roads you can reach them from," Cathy said.

"Weird-looking buildings, tiny planes, headaches. It's a miserable place. I think the island would improve with it gone," Latias sent as they turned down another road, heading west.

"A lot of people here rely on those buildings. Do you even know what a large plane looks like?" Michael replied silently.

After a pause, she sent back, "Just what others have said about them."

"This little place is nothing. You should be grateful it's as small as it is."

Latias fidgeted behind him and looked ahead to where they were traveling. "We're probably going to Manisees Lighthouse. Not many interesting things on the western side. Not where we're heading. I think she's drawing this out. Probably just to spend time with you."

"You mean the same reason you're here?"

That she might share a motivation with Cathy Latias refused to acknowledge. She pushed herself against Michael's back and laid her head over his shoulder instead. No matter what he might say to compare them, Latias could still have this physical proximity, and give a guarantee of protection far greater than a mere helmet, neither of which that woman could claim.

Once they arrived at the lighthouse, Cathy's anxiety spiked again. There were trainers with pokemon here too, but they were a good distance away from them to the south, and this time Cathy stopped to dismount. "This is Manisees Lighthouse, the only lighthouse on the island. Stretch your legs a bit. When we hit the town I don't plan on stopping anywhere long. Unless some place catches your attention, that is."

Despite biting back at her about her comments, Latias could hear Michael mentally wondering if he should test Cathy's choice of location. "What's so important about this place?"

"The town holds a lot of gatherings here. It's also another of the island's parks. If you come to town by the water I guess you'd be interested in lighthouses anyway, right?"

"The town holds only two gatherings here yearly," Latias sent Michael as soon as Cathy stopped talking. "I think you might be interested in only one. Maybe neither."

"Right," Michael responded aloud, to which of them Latias wasn't sure. "It's worth the break to walk around at least."

The three of them moved towards the lone structure on the point, situated atop a series of bluffs much like Michael and Latias' home. When they got close, Cathy launched into a long explanation about the history of the building.

"Do you find any of this interesting?" Latias asked Michael while the woman rambled.

"Kinda," he subvocalized back

"I could tell you much more than she. I lived here after all."

"I don't doubt you can."

"Mike?" Cathy stood with one foot on the steps leading to the lighthouse's porch. "You okay?"

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

"You were staring off into space again. Is something bothering you? We could do this another day if you want."

"No, don't worry about me. I'm fine. Continue?"

That Michael requested her to continue her inane babble irritated Latias, and she didn't respond until they had returned to the moped. As the three piled back on, she couldn't hold back any longer.

"I told you it wasn't important."

"Lay off," Michael mentally replied. "At least it was somewhat interesting."

"She's a historian's daughter. She's going to give a lesson about every stop."

"Good thing I like history then, isn't it?"

If it's history he wanted, history she could provide. Once back in town, their tour became a rapid series of starts and stops. Latias continued to pitch in her own brand of commentary often, stopping only momentarily when she felt Michael starting to get annoyed. The trio made their way through the outer districts of town, avoiding the tourist areas, eventually crossing the island again and turning south. None of it was new to Latias, and she reminded Michael of this fact often.


Michael sighed in relief when he caught a whiff of cooked fish from the remote building their moped approached. This was the end of the dueling narrations of his island tour, then, and a chance to fill a stomach unsatisfied by a quick stop-and-go lunch. The promised restaurant had become his light at the end of the tunnel; the tour ended up being educational but boring, as Latias had warned, though he didn't dare admit such to her for fear of validating her constant tedious butting-in. He had well enough of these two females spouting inane facts about knick-knack shops and century-old houses and any of a seemingly infinite number of tiny ponds in an attempt to impress him. At this point he just wanted to go home, but if this meal was as good as promised, it'd at least help justify this whole ordeal.

First, he had to dislodge his hanger-on, who was currently demonstrating that phrase quite literally. "Alright, I know you're going to say I can't make you leave," Michael sent Latias as he shrugged off her grip on his shoulders to dismount, "but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't hang around. It'd just make this all the more awkward for me, it's bad enough you're going to hear everything I say."

As he walked towards the restaurant's front door, a vague sense of something withdrawing filtered into his mind, like a wave drawing back out to sea. "I could use your senses. I could be just as present as you. What is wrong with just sticking around then?"

"Please don't. No riding my senses. It's not that I want to keep things from you, I'll just have enough on my mind as it is. Thinking about you hanging around or tuning in is just going to make that worse."

Michael reached around Cathy to open the door for her, then followed her inside. "Fine. I don't like the taste of your human food anyway," Latias replied while he took in the restaurant's atmosphere. "I'll go have some seafood of my own." Michael didn't bother replying to her, just wishing she'd leave already.

Right off the bat, Michael had to give the restaurant some credit; establishments that tried for a nautical theme to their décor like this rarely got it right as this place did. Absent was an obvious "buoys and gills" pun on the bathroom signs, and present was a surprisingly consistent port-and-starboard dichotomy between the bar and the main dining room, red lamps leading to the former and green to the latter. Omnipresent fishing nets were eschewed in favor of a sail-like canvas partitioning different sections of the restaurant that, if the block-and-tackle near each one served any function besides appearances, could be lifted to change the layout. Many pictures of nautical life hung from the walls, but not a single piece of faux driftwood could be found. Michael was warming up to the place already; anywhere that acknowledged there was more to life on the water than salty career trawling and conveniently ignored rather than celebrated the ever-lurking nuisance of lobster pods and Wingull was good in his books.

Despite the restaurant appearing fairly full, he and Cathy were immediately led to a table. Michael had expected a menu thinner than the one he received. While looking through its ample selection, he found himself tempted to get turf rather than surf, just to be contrary and push back on Cathy's ceaseless rambling about every little detail of the island.

"…But there's really no reason to come here for anything besides fish," she insisted, completing some thought he hadn't listened to. Michael absentmindedly nodded his head while looking over a selection of sandwiches, none of which contained meat. When their waitress arrived, however, he caved and ordered as Cathy proscribed. He could only hope it was as good as Cathy claimed, and that good food would lead to a good mood.

"So, what'd you think of the island?" Cathy asked as soon as the waitress hurried off.

"Pretty quiet away from downtown," Michael said. Cathy didn't look satisfied with his answer. "I like quiet. Definitely a plus," he continued. "I didn't expect it from a place that you said relied so heavily on tourism."

"I think we've found a nice balance here," Cathy said, "but if you like quiet, you picked the best spot. Nothing happens out there." Michael couldn't help but think about the entire book her own mother had written proving otherwise, sitting on his desk in his bedroom, but kept silent. Maybe he could hand it over to her when he returned home, so Nola could have it back. He'd already learned what he wanted from it.

Cathy waited some time for any acknowledgement from him, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. Blessed silence shattered when she decided to try another tack. "So, about your pokémon. What do you do with them?"

This subject, at least, he was willing to talk about. "I'd originally thought they could guard the house when I first got them, but really they're just family. I don't really do anything with them besides take care of them, and in a way they take care of me."

Twisting her face into an expression halfway between curiosity and contempt, Cathy replied, "How do they do that? I thought they'd just eat your food and go back to their pokéballs. Er, do you keep them in their pokéballs?"

"Absolutely not, they deserve better than that. Besides, I don't know what I'd do with myself in an empty house. I like the quiet, but total silence would drive me crazy."

"You know, another human could provide that for you." Michael met her gaze with a level stare, wondering if being this on-point was normal on a first date. It'd been too long since he played on this field.

When their waitress arrived with their drinks, she broke and looked down to the table. "What are pokémon good for besides battling, anyway?"

His impulse to write the whole night off returned in force as he tried to decide which of the myriad of ways he could answer her question. Even after selecting one, he let the silence drag a few moments longer for effect. "Companionship. They're my friends. They put enough activity in my life to shake things up, but are unobtrusive enough I can focus on things when I need to. Honestly I'd recommend everyone live with a pokémon, just for the experience."

"I tried that once," Cathy responded acidly. "It didn't turn out too well."

"What happened?" he asked in a tone more moderate than he felt. A vicious part of him cheered the registered hit. A more compassionate part of him fought the impulse that he knew fed off his temper, but the compassionate part was weakened from a day of attrition.

"My father was a trainer, but he called himself a researcher first. Kept all sorts of brutes. Dumb as rocks, probably because they literally came from rocks. Resurrected straight out of an archeology book by what had to be a mad scientist, because nobody else would want to bring such abominations into the world. The two of 'em constantly stalked around the house with their blade-arms, ready to slice open anything they touched. The big bulky one could just crush me, but I was always more scared of the shorter one. Too thin to look alive, covered with too many spikes to be safe from any angle."

Michael heard the clinging of ice in her glass as she stirred it. "And I was right all along, not that this is the right place to show you scars. My mom gave him a choice; us or the pokémon. He said they were his life's work as well as his friends, and while he didn't want to put us at risk, he didn't want to sacrifice his career. So he left. He visited often but eventually stopped. I don't know what happened to him and I long since stopped caring. Probably got gutted by his own monsters somewhere, and good riddance."

Michael contemplated his cola-and-alcohol concoction in the ensuing silence, wondering if she needed it more than him. "Sorry to hear about it. Can't say I never heard stories. Some pokémon aren't very kid-friendly." Images of when he first tried to train Flufftail flashed through his mind, an event that fortunately never escalated that far.

"I think trainers are insane," she replied, "something about pokémon drives people crazy." She looked up at him then, even managing a thin smile. "You seem alright though. I'm surprised, considering what my mom told me was your old job."

Michael waved his hand vaguely. "I stayed in the back poking at computers all day." He took a sip of his drink, fighting a grimace at its obnoxious sweetness but savoring the slight burn against his throat. "I think you're right about some trainers at least though. I just don't understand it. Guy I used to work with had a Starmie, seemed like he spent every waking moment he wasn't working in fighting circuits with it. Took battling with it almost as seriously as he took his job. Good guy, but talking to him about pokémon was like talking to a foreigner."

"See, you're not crazy after all, you get it," Cathy said, with a much warmer smile. "What happened to him?"

"Don't know, we fell out of touch when I left my last job. Actually talked with him a bit on the phone a couple days ago when I was trying to get ahold of the guy managing this island's storage system. I didn't really get the chance to find out how he got there; it was late, I was tired, and he was terse. When I got ahold of Bill the next day someone else managed the call."

Their food was delivered shortly after, and Michael dug in gratefully. With that one shared topic played out, awkward silence filled the air more often than spoken words. Several lesser subjects briefly came up, transient and ephemeral, but none ever stuck. It was wrong, he knew on some level, and they were supposed to be using this time to get to know each other. He just couldn't convince himself he was interested, and was more concerned with finally eating his fill and establishing a buzz with the help of a couple refills.

They finished their meals and paid faster than it took them to get their food. Michael thanked his prior alcohol consumption; he wasn't nearly as anxious about being on the road at night as he thought he would be, and only in fleeting spurts found himself missing Latias' comforting grip and promise of safety.

His concerns of the night resurfaced. How was he supposed to make something work with a woman who was afraid of pokémon? Was there even anything to make work? Perched on the back of her moped, practically sitting on top of her back, put him closer to any woman than he'd been in several years. She wasn't unattractive, possessed a measure of intelligence, and was capable enough to run her family's small business. But whether it was alcohol-fueled apathy, weariness after the day's long tug-of-war, or simple lack of chemistry, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He was still turning it over in his head when they pulled up to his house. He handed Cathy his turquoise-colored helmet after he dismounted. "Thanks for the ride back."

"Can I see the place?" Cathy asked, still seated. "I want to see what you've done with it."

"No," sounded a voice in his head he'd almost managed to forget. He tamped down on surging anger fast enough he hoped it didn't show on his face. How long had she been listening in, against his request? The day's earlier irritation – at both of them – rushed back and hit him full-force.

"Sorry, it's not exactly in presentable condition. Still a lot of work to do." He tried to amplify the next sentence in his mind, "Another time though, definitely." A stick in both their eyes, for his day's trouble. Politely.

They exchanged goodbyes, but Michael's mind was already on his next battle. The sight of Flufftail rushing over to greet his entry momentarily pushed back on his anger, but not enough. "I'm home, but you knew that already," he sent Latias as he held himself back from slamming the front door closed. "How long have you been in my head?"

"About a week, not that it seems to matter."

Latias' flippant response only made his mood worse. He felt like he was talking to one of his kids in a petulant mood, not to someone who claimed she was almost two decades older than him. "You know damn well that's not what I meant." He switched to his real voice after he ascended the stairs with Flufftail in tow, opening the study door to find Latias moping atop her ersatz bedding. "What is with you today? Inviting yourself along for the trip, and getting upset when I finally tell you off?"

"If she isn't replacing me, what's wrong? If she's around you, I can be too." Her refusal to look him in the eye, staring out the balcony door, cemented his opinion of her behavior.

"Totally different. This wasn't something for you to take part in. I asked you to stay home today."

"I wanted to go, and you gave no reason."

"That I asked should be reason enough!" he exclaimed as Flufftail slipped past him and sat in a corner of the room. "What if I don't want to be stalked by some invisible dragon all day? Isn't hearing everything I say enough for you?"

"I helped you though. I comforted and protected you."

"Yeah, sure, thanks. That didn't give you license to throw an attitude when you overstayed your generously extended welcome. As you can see, I made it home without your services."

"You sound a lot like the trainers you hate." Latias finally turned to face him, floating up to meet his gaze at eye-level. "I'm to be called and dismissed at your leisure? Just another pokemon to you?"

"A pokemon is exactly what you are! I thought I made that clear enough yesterday, but you're still having some trouble with that." His earlier conversation with Cathy came to mind. What to do about pokémon who weren't good for companionship?

"You told me to be me, so I am. I am your partner in this, an equal. Not yours to command or dictate terms to. I go where I want and stay where I choose."

An emotional calm before the storm came over him. "I give you that. I try to ask, not command. I give you space and consideration. Yet today I wanted some time alone with another human fucking being, and you deny me that most basic privacy." Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, "As for where you stay, you are here at my pleasure. If I want you gone, you will go."

"How do you plan to make me?"

Shooing off a dragon? Should be easy enough. Michael turned halfway in the door and shouted down the hall. "Spark?"

By the time he looked back, his view of Latias' expression – one even he could read as astonished, let that put her in her place – was partially obstructed by nine whirling cream-colored tails. A sense of fear came over him before he even fully realized Flufftail had positioned himself between him and Latias.

The fox's ready stance faced him, rather than his draconic adversary.

He suppressed his first instinct to simply run; despite the Ninetales history, Michael could tell from the fox's face that he wasn't overtaken by his anger, merely something he'd learned to interpret as vulpine disappointment. Still, its agitation was plain, and with his pokéball at a dozen meters behind him through a closed door, retreat was probably prudent. He muttered something to try and save face, though not even he was sure what came out, before turning out into the hallway and closing the study door firmly behind him.

It took him several moments to gather enough of his wits to realize he just effectively locked Flufftail in the study with Latias, but even now aware he wasn't in any danger from his own pokémon, the solid door between them comforted him. Cathy's earlier comments about family-unfriendly pokémon returned to him as he slowly descended the stairs. He'd forgotten one of his own time-bomb's triggers. One of the oldest; no pokémon battles, not even implied.

Though the small, quick hit of adrenaline blew away the haze of mild intoxication, it left nothing in its own wake. Now in the living room, Michael dropped onto the old couch, its missing – stolen – cushions replaced by some from his boat. He'd give Flufftail some time to cool off. The Ninetales would inevitably come to silently scold him sooner or later.

He was flipping through an internet video service on his television when Latias' voice finally returned to his mind. "You have your study back."

Michael blinked a couple times, trying to process this. He subvocalized back, "What do you mean?"

"I left. Went back to where I lived before. You know where."

He did know where, he'd found it several nights prior, while she slept. A measure of malice-fueled vindication surfaced in his mind. "I do." A possibility occurred to him. "Are you closing this? We done?"

After a moment, an unexpected reply. "If you want."

A shadow dropped down across the window to his right, drawing his attention towards the back yard and the night beyond. Flufftail's face appeared in the window a moment later, and Michael got up to let him in the back door as he responded, "Not really." He tried to figure out where Latias was going with this unexpected contrition. "Do you want to?"

"Despite your threat," a vindictive note sounded in her mental voice, "I still want to help you. I still have an obligation."

An obligation to who, him or Clayton? "You owe me nothing and him less. What do you really want?"

"I want to be the one to make you happy."

Michael's train of thought derailed, scattering mental railcars over too wide an area to track. He returned to a problem he never satisfactorily resolved for himself the day before, when she commented that she might, in the future, wish to enter a mode of relationship with him that was improper at best. He'd quickly pushed it out of his mind then, forcing it away by repeating lines of nonsense code to himself like a backwards form of meditation. Obviously it wasn't something he could shove off forever, but a clear solution still eluded him.

When he returned to the here-and-now, he found Flufftail obstructing his view of his television. His silent councilor always made his quiet displeasure known, and though Michael was terrible at reading his own pokémon, Flufftail was patient enough. His owner making missteps was not one of his few triggers. Cathy would probably decide he really was crazy after all if he ever told her that his therapist was a fox with anger-management issues, and he might even agree with her.

"Look, I'm sorry. That was hasty of me. I won't throw your sister at her."

Flufftail didn't move from where he sat atop the coffee table, aside from several tails slowly curling and uncurling around his legs.

Michael regarded him, trying to determine the Ninetales' silent intent. "Been awhile since I saw you make a friend. I thought you'd be jealous of her."

Flufftail snorted and dipped his head slightly, but still remained put.

"No? You're more secure in your position than she is then, I guess."

The Ninetales' head tilted back up quickly, and Michael thought he saw a gleam in his eyes.

What he wouldn't give to be able to connect to Flufftail's mind like he could Latias. It'd be a much more productive connection, that's for sure, and save them all a lot of time. In the back of his mind, he wondered where Latias was, since he knew she could hear him go through this whole routine. "What about it? Security, or your position?" Flufftail laid down on the table, tapping his snout on it, and Michael sighed in frustration with both hands over his face. "That doesn't help me at all!"

After several unproductive moments, Flufftail jumped down off the table and up onto the couch, laying down once more at Michael's side. Michael patted the fox on his shoulder, ignoring the fact the pokémon had laid on top of his television remote. "You know, I was never a hit with the ladies. Now I have two who want my attention, and I don't know what to make of them. I think you finally have some competition for the most confusing creature in my life."