Disclaimer: Pokémon is owned by The Pokémon Company and was created by Satoshi Tajiri et al. any recognizable content is credited to the original creators. The author earns no profit for this fanfiction.

On Writing

Flashbacks

I'm holding onto cold, clammy hands. The girl (woman, maybe? What defines age? Years of living, experience, maturity?) is shivering in the bed, shaking in her sleep. It's Annabelle, in that impersonal cot. She's lived in this hospital for what seems like forever now, a return to home nowhere in sight. They don't know. No idea what's wrong with her.

A sudden cough and now a shoulder is in my hand. I'm halfway to standing, dreading the red specks in her palm that are inevitable. They treat a symptom, and another replaces the last. Right now, that means Annabelle is coughing up blood.

"Annabelle, please, it's going to be okay, just lay back." meaningless words, reassuring to myself more than the barely waking brunette.

"Teddy . . . ?" that trembling voice is interrupted by coughing that's worse than before.

"Shh, don't speak sis, it'll only hurt you even more," she whimpers. I stand up and walk around to the other side of her bed, grabbing a cup of water off the table, "Here, drink. I bet you're thirsty."

She does, grimacing as the cold liquid flows down her sore throat.

Her eyes, a bright, clean, blue normally, are red now. Bloodshot and tired, I can't see anything of the cheerful girl, in her place is the sickly patient. Those eyes focus on an open book, half read for the millionth time.

"Do you want me to continue reading the story, Anna?" she nods and I sit back down in my seat, taking the book into my lap.

Before she became sick, and soon after she turned 14, we fought for a time. She didn't like the friends I had, and I hated the things she would do at home. I couldn't stand that constant, inane chatter as she talked on the phone for hours on end with her boyfriend. Little, small things that when I look back on it they don't even matter.

Today, I'd give anything to listen to her speak for anything more than five minutes. Instead, it's me talking, reading out loud for my sister whose life is now hell. We've read this story together countless times, the one about the girl that goes on an adventure in search of Jirachi, for a wish, all so that she can save her dying father.

I think that we could use a wish from Jirachi, too.

Faint voices echo down the hallways of the hospital. There's the baritone of my father, and the mezzo-soprano of my mother. Finally is a voice unfamiliar, alien, speaking words that are unbelievable, "We don't think she has more than two months to live, her condition is worsening."

No. She won't die.

I wake, shoving away the dream, shunting out the concern from my Pokémon.

"It's alright, go back to sleep." the corporeal three stir for a moment more but they return to their dreams eventually. Misdreavus is within me though, a weight on my soul, sleeping even still.

I leave the tent, stepping out into the cool air. It's dark, the cloud cover full and absolute, no moonlight to see by and no stars to shine. I'm not going far anyway.

I think back, sometimes, to those final moments. But this is the first time since becoming psychic that I've dreamt of my sister. I could've done without.

The dream was clearer than my own memories, if not pervasively unreal. It brought back remembrance of her voice, her eyes. I can still feel the sweat on my hands (or is it my own?), her shaking shoulder in my palm.

I lied to her then. I told her it was going to be okay, and it wasn't. I lied to myself, too. It's never really been okay, since.

But, there's not much I can really do, is there?

After Annabelle's death, like I'd told Ralts, I was depressed. I couldn't do that again. I couldn't convince myself that the people I knew wouldn't die someday, that they wouldn't disappear out of nowhere. So I didn't try to.

Instead I pretended they didn't exist. They couldn't hurt me if I went away first, could they?

Dependence was the catch in that plan. I left most of the people in my life, but the Pokémon had to stay. Fennekin and Froakie (especially Froakie) needed me to be there for them, to keep them happy, living.

It's night, and there's a cool spot on the bed, an emptiness.

An open window brings in a breeze, the noise of the city. I look down at Fennekin, and she's still sleeping. I don't want to disturb her rest, but I don't want her to be scared if she wakes up alone either. I run my hand through the fur on her head, giving her a moment to become conscious, "Little fox, I'm going out for a second, okay? I need to find Froakie." her sleepy eyes blink once, twice, then close.

There's a park nearby with a stream. It was the last place that we saw Annabelle, when we still thought it was a cold, before she became a permanent fixture in a soulless hospital room. She loved that park.

I step outside, zipping up my jacket and walking to the park, only five minutes away. There I find Froakie at the creek, looking into the water. She's shivering, from the cold or emotion. As I get closer I realize it's emotion. Tears are streaming down her face, those bulbous eyes excruciatingly expressive.

"Oh Froakie . . ." I've knelt down next to her, placing my hand on her back, underneath the bubbles along her neck,"What are you doing out here?"

"Fro . . ." she looks up at me, and my heart clenches in pain. I lift her up into my arms (hiding those eyes) rocking her as she cries.

That image is burned into my brain. No need for supernatural dreams to bring up that scene. After that, and other events, I buried myself within the world of Pokémon. I found out all that I could, and I rejected the human connection in favor of the bond to my Pokémon.

"Teddy . . . ?" it's Misdreavus, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"There's no need to lie to me Ted. What are you doing up, why aren't you sleeping?"

"I had a bad dream, you don't need to worry about it."

"I thought I remembered you being sad, in your dream. I figured the others would have handled it, but I guess it's up to me, huh?"

"Handle it? Ha, sure. Good joke."

"Hmph. Don't think I can be comforting?" she laughs, a little, but she quickly sobers, "It's going to be okay, I promise," and then, something happens. She's speaking (singing) and I don't understand her. It's different, even, from her Pokéspeech. There's a rush of foreign feelings, and my soul is flying. Pain and sorrow lifted away. She's exhausted as she says, "All better. Now, come back to sleep, won't you?"

"What was that?" I want to be angry, but I can't. I'm literally unable to be upset with her. She shouldn't . . . control my feelings like that, if that's truly what she did.

"Magic, Teddy. I'll explain tomorrow, okay? Please go back to sleep, I can't stay up any longer."

I try to talk to her, to find out more, but she quickly falls asleep (almost like fainting), and nothing I do rouses her. So I give up, and return to the tent.

Light is shining down on Route 120, the rain having stopped the night before. I step out the tent finished gathering everything, and then I break down our shelter.

"Ted, are you okay? You were avoiding us last night, after you went back to sleep." That's Frogadier. It's strange, I never really noticed the nuances of their voices until I could understand them.

"Yeah, I am. Thank you for asking. Let's get going, alright?" I return her and the fox and the psychic to their Pokéballs.

"Ted, you know we're here for you right? I know that's hypocritical coming from me, but it's true. You can tell me anything." Frogadier the recluse, offering a shoulder to lean on. I suppose that is odd in a way.

"Thank you Frogadier, but I really am okay. Don't worry about it." she's still worried, and nothing I say will change that, but she let's it go for now. I walk on, listening to the birds chirping in the trees and enjoying the scent of fresh rain.

The salty breeze of the ocean has faded away by now. Route 120 is still quite wet though, almost a marsh. There are scattered ponds and streams going south to the bay, and I can see a lake far in the distance, in a valley. The trees have cleared up, making room for the waterways and repositories.

Misdreavus decides to see what it's like for herself, and now I don't feel quite as strange anymore. I had gotten used to it, but having the ghost within me is not normal.

"Ah, it's so bright outside. How do you stand it?"

"Well, see, living things tend to like the sun. And seeing as you are . . ."

"I'm alive! What are you talking about?" she spins about, huffing at me in anger.

"I'm only messing with you, Misdreavus," I smile at the ghost. It was rather nice of her to help me cheer up last night, if not manipulative in the way that she did it, "So, magic huh? Hm . . ."

"That's right, magic! And maybe I'd explain it to you if you were nicer to me," she turns away from me stubbornly reticent, "I certainly don't affiliate myself with ungrateful individuals such as you," she floats about inspecting this flower or that herb, ignoring me entirely, "maybe I should find somebody who would really appreciate me . . ." she breaks off into giggles.

"Oh fine, thank you, Misdreavus, for cheering me up. Now, how did you do it?"

"Magic! Or, specifically, an incantation my mother taught me as a child. Misdreavus and Mismagius have always known magic, and my family is no exception. The spell I used on you was for the purpose of banishing negative emotion. Magic isn't like any other Pokémon move though, it's much more tiring."

"Why would the Misdreavus evolution line know magic but not other Pokémon?"

"Well we aren't actually the only ones that know magic. In fact, Braixen looks like she could learn it. That twig she waves around like it does anything? Has to be a wand. Why else would those fox Pokémon pick up sticks?

"Anyway, do you want to hear the story my mother told me?"

"Uh, sure I guess."

"Long ago, there was a Pokémon that'd never been seen before. At first, all the other Pokémon welcomed her as a new kind and treated her very sweetly, as all new types should be. Everything went well for a while, until a nasty, cruel and selfish Gengar appeared. He didn't like that Mismagius was getting all the attention, and so he spread rumors about the poor pure ghost. Eventually it came to the point that Mismagius was mistrusted and abused by everyone else, and it built up to a moment where all the others were bullying her at once, and she couldn't take it anymore. She cried.

"It was havoc. The cry of a Mismagius causes pain and madness. All the bullies began to attack one another, and even themselves. Mismagius was horrified that she had caused this chaos and she begged the gods to help her make everything better again. And they did, they favored Mismagius and gifted the poor ghost the ability of magic. With it she made everyone happy again and ended the insanity. But, unfortunately, the damage was already done and she had to leave.

"And so, magic is taught to every Misdreavus, in the hopes that what happened to the first Mismagius never happens again," she comes back to me, her red eyes staring at my own, very seriously "you should be happy that I told that story to you, it's one that my mother told me every morning, when I was young, before I went to sleep."

"Wow. Honestly, I didn't even know Pokémon had stories like that."

"Don't tell me that you didn't think we were cultured? You, who is writing a book on humanity's bond to Pokémon? For shame Theodore Blackwater . . ."

"Hey you can't blame me for that when I couldn't even speak to Pokémon until yesterday!"

"Surely some psychic would have reported that their Pokémon have stories and legends! Or even a trainer who has one of my fellow Misdreavus. Many Pokémon have similar ideas that explain one trait or another. I think it's you who just didn't look hard enough for any Pokémon stories." she's giving me the cold shoulder again.

"Alright, I'm sorry Misdreavus. To you and every other Pokémon out there . . ." I sigh. That really is something that I should have known.

"Ha! I'm only messing with you Teddy," she laughs, winking at me, "Although it is true that we have our tales too, I'm not upset with you for not knowing. Why don't you check for yourself though the next time we're in one of your cities? I'm sure there'll be something."

"Yeah, okay. I think it'll be one more night 'til we reach Fortree."

We reached the lake that I'd seen earlier. By now it's evening, and I let my Pokémon out.

"Hey guys, why don't you play in the water for a while? You must be bored from being in your Pokéballs all day." Braixen looks at me like I'm crazy and wonders off near the treeline, while Frogadier simply crouches next to me looking out at the water. Huh.

"Or from hanging out with someone as dull as you all day, Teddy!" Misdreavus is laughing as she rushes to the water, and out of my reach, "Hey, Ralts, do you want to see what it's like to fly?"

"Um, okay, as long as you don't tease me again like you did that first day!"

At least two of them are having some fun, "Hey, be careful alright? Don't let her fall!" Ralts is already climbing up onto the ghost's back, holding onto the hairlike tendrils. Maybe she's using telekinesis to stay on?

"Ted. Will you tell me what was bothering you last night?" I sigh. I suppose Frogadier deserves better than me ignoring her. I'm there for her when she's upset, and she wants to reciprocate.

"Alright, yeah. I will," I sit down on the grass, off of the rocks lining the shore, "so last night I had a dream about Annabelle, at the hospital."

I can feel that burst of pain as Frogadier's eyes close, "Oh, Ted. I'm so sorry . . ." she's hurting too. I wish I could've let it be, but she'd be angry if I didn't tell her what was going on.

"Come here," I put my arm around her, holding her close, "I'm sorry I brought it up. It's . . . I don't know, it was so hard seeing Anna in that dream. I'd forgotten a lot of the details, you know? But now, I can't stop seeing the look in her eyes, hearing her weak voice. I think that– I– I tried to forget her. And it worked, but that dream, that way too realistic dream. It brought it all back again."

"Ted . . ."

"Now I can't stop thinking about it, and I don't know why I ever tried to forget because she's so important to me, and I just let it go? Like it was nothing? I should have held those memories, never let go, and keep them always, because they're precious," but I didn't. Nothing I do will ever change that. I, and my mom, just pushed it away because it hurt, "I'm no good, Frogadier. What kind of brother shuts out his memories of his dead sister?"

"Ted you aren't a bad brother, don't say that about yourself. Do you think that Annabelle would've wanted you to do this? To be angry and guilty for being in pain? I think she would be happy that you're as strong as you are today, that you managed to move passed your sadness and make something of yourself." I'm standing now, the breeze coming off the lake leaving me cold, in goosebumps, and shivering. Or is it more than that?

Frogadier is holding onto my right arm, staring up at me with tears in her eyes, "Look at us, just repeating scenes of the past. I actually thought about that night I found you out at the park after I'd woken up, too.

"Thank you though, Frogadier, for talking to me. I wish that I could have understood you and Braixen before this but . . ." I shake my head, and sit back down.

Her hand grabs my shoulder, "It's okay, Ted. I'm happy that you can really talk to us now."

Me too.

Author's Note: So this chapter is obviously shorter. It's uploaded earlier than normal though!

I'm probably not going to try and reach 5000 words every chapter from now on, and I still want to update every week but it might not be on weekends every time. I hope you guys like this chapter!