Inamorata
3.

One letter, written nearly over a year ago, offers you a vague clue. Before you came along, Veilstone City was where Team Galactic Headquarters was positioned, and it wasn't exactly the most subtle of buildings. Nearby is a temporary base; the doors are sealed and there is no way in without a passcode.

Temporary or not, Professor Grey expresses slight interest in one of her letters to Oak. Maybe heading there, at least to check, wouldn't cause any harm. You don't inform Cynthia about your plans, preferring your own company. That is how you've always done it, and you don't intend to change your work ethic.

Veilstone is homely at night. You enjoy how the streetlamps make the city glow, how the stars appear that much more brighter. The Galactic Headquarters has been refurbished into another building; it has another use. Something to do with electricity, but, needless to say, Galactic have crumbled into dust.

To your relief, the base remains.

Yet as you reach for the door, you're disgruntled to discover it is locked.

Damn it.

Initially, you decide to think of another plan, but consider something more practical. After releasing Infernape from its Pokeball, you order it to either burn down the door, or slam it off its hinges using Strength. While Infernape busies itself, you peer over your shoulder to check no one is watching.

Of course Infernape succeeds. You've trained it brilliantly, after all.

You and your Pokemon step inside. The lights refuse to work, so you depend on Infernape's flame to guide your way. Once you near the staircase leading down, you think you've probably made a mistake. Although Team Galactic conducted their experiments here, there's no reason to believe Professor Grey would repeat that mistake too.

Infernape happily bolts down the staircase, but comes to a sudden halt when it realises you're not following. Patiently, your companion waits for your order.

There isn't an order.

Because you feel a presence behind you.

Surprised, you whip around. Infernape dashes to your feet, but doesn't attack.

The presence is a familiar one; one which would have been a threat several years ago.

Cyrus isn't looking at you. He gazes, almost dreamily, into the darkness below. When he speaks, his voice is tired, but it's still heavy; still some authority remains. 'I wondered how long it would take you to come back here.'

A smile, illegible, twitches his lips. He notices your Infernape.

'Would you like to know the way?'

You widen your eyes. He knows! 'Have you seen her?'

'Of course. I just never said anything.' He looks at you, and he's nearly snarling. 'I hoped after all these years your IQ would have dropped. Clearly I was incorrect––yet again.' He snorts. Then frowns. 'You came alone?'

'Who else would I bring with me?'

Cyrus pauses. Shrugs. Changes topic. 'I am not on your side. If I could, I would destroy your Pokemon here and now; and throw your bleeding body onto their corpses. However, I, unfortunately, am out of usable Pokemon.' He sighs and proceeds down the staircase, past you. 'Consider yourself lucky.'

Whatever he says to you now has little to no effect.

He isn't a competition anymore.

So, you follow him, Infernape at your side. Cyrus still walks like a soldier: back straight, shoulders back, but there isn't any purpose. That has all disappeared. Now, he is a mere shadow of who he once was, and it's sad.

You wonder if this will be you at his age.

Mid-thirties, and a loss.

Or perhaps not? You know a trainer around his age who has survived. Who still believes in happiness, who still thinks the world is a beautiful, perfect place. Who is still an optimist, despite everything else.

Cyrus escorts you through a hallway. He doesn't need Infernape to light his path; he knows it by heart.

'You're stupid.'

The remark stumps you. 'Excuse me?'

Cyrus looks at you and smirks, before facing forward again. You glare at the back of his head; there are plenty of names you could give to this man.

'What she has created, they are remarkable creatures.' He stops at a door. 'Be respectful of them, please.' Cyrus turns to see you. 'By the way your Infernape is acting, I can tell it cares deeply for your wellbeing. Are you so sure it is safe to go alone?'

'And why would you care?'

'Oh. I don't.'

Cyrus pushes the door open. Beyond is another hallway, another door ahead.

'Not far now. I would knock. Scientists get angry when they're disturbed from their work.' As casually as ever, Cyrus departs, without even a glance at you. You watch until he's rounded the corner, before going on ahead.

Quickening your pace, you reach for the next door. Inside is a small room, with an entrance below; a ladder in place. You return your Infernape, and make your way further down. Landing on the floor, you're happy to discover the place is light again.

A man dressed in a white lab coat stares at you. 'What are you doing? Get out!' He snatches his Pokeball, but you bring out your own Pokemon before him. Your Luxray jumps out, electricity shooting form its fur. The scientist steps back, knowing better to endure an electric shock from your companion. 'Get out of here,' he mumbles.

You have caught the attention of other scientists. And then you see where you are.

It is similar to the lab near Snowpoint, but this one is larger, more appropriate. Not to mention, the creatures being created are fully-formed, waiting to be set free from their jelly-like substance. You're horrified. None of these creatures look anything at all like Pokemon; they have been mutilated and moulded into things unfamiliar.

One scientist, holding a pad of notes, approaches you. She's calmer than the other scientist, but there's an edge to her tone. 'I suggest you leave immediately. This isn't a place for children––'

'I am not a child,' you snap. 'I am here to see the Professor.'

'The Professor?' A voice calls.

The female scientist and you turn to see the source. Your heart stops when you discover it is the woman herself, and it is impressive how such a mad character can appear so tame. In the light, she has a gentle face, very big eyes, and a joyful smile.

'You took your time,' Professor Grey shoves the female scientist aside and stops at arm's length from you. 'Ah, Dawn. You should have followed their advice while you could. But I shall repeat their warning one last time: get out.'

Luxray roars from behind. 'I'm staying put.'

The Professor shakes her head, rolling her eyes. 'Your brilliance has got the better of you.'

'I can set this place on fire if I wished. Then I will be rid of your sick experiments.'

'You want to go there, eh?' Grey jars her teeth, and now her face isn't so gentle. In fact, it's almost frightening how her face has darkened. 'I went easy on you last time. Don't expect me to be friendly. Oh, and I see you neglected to bring your friend along. Very well.'

She retrieves three Pokeballs from her lab coat pocket.

'Kiss your Lxuray good night. This may be the last opportunity you have to do so.'

Then she throws all three up into the air. They explode before hitting the floor, and before you even have the time to see what has escaped, your Luxray is sent spiralling into the wall. Your unable to make sure its okay, because something tangles its way around your ankles and trips you up. Slamming your head into the floor, you let out a wail.

At the sound, your Infernape escapes its confinement, and comes to your protection.

'Fire Blitz!'

Its anger is violent, and you can feel it. Your Infernape's body bursts into flames, and in that short moment when fire is being set towards the enemy, you're able to see what has attacked you. But you cannot make sense of them.

One is the first you met back at Snowpoint, but the other two?

Infernape hisses and dashes over to you when you're back on your feet.

'Furious little thing, isn't it?' Grey mutters.

The creature Infernape attacked is slightly burned. However barely any damage has been made.

You return your Infernape.

'Is this surrender?'

You return your Luxray. 'I will not allow you to treat my Pokemon that way.'

'Ha. Darling, there are no rules here. You either play or you die.' Grey clicks her fingers. One of her beloved creatures targets you. The Pokeball Infernape is locked within starts to shake, and you can tell it wants out.

But you hold it shut.

What look like tentacles come at you. They mirror that of a Tentacruel, but its the sharp points on each end which are troublesome. Before you're able to make a run, its tentacles grab for your body. And squeeze. You gasp, and struggle out of the creature's lock, but it's got you in place, and as it squeezes harder, you're certain you can feel your bones snapping.

A Pokeball drops from your belt.

Gallade escapes and witnesses what has happened to its trainer. Immediately it slices at the creature's tentacles, desperate for you to escape, but each time, its tentacles keep growing back. You scream, and it hurts, and suddenly you can't breathe and you think––

damn damn it damn damn damn it

Why did you do this alone?

'Break her.'

The creature tightens its hold, and your Gallade stubbornly tries to set you free.

But after a while, you start to feel weaker; everything is lighter, and you feel sleepy; you feel as if you could collapse and dream for an eternity. Your Gallade is wailing out, but you can't hear it; and suddenly it's okay.

It's okay to die.

'Hyper Beam.'

What happens next––you don't see it.

You're blinded, and in a flash, your body crashes to the ground.

A high-pitched scream echoes the room. And suddenly another jet of light is released. Your Gallade hurries over to your limp form, but you can't hear it, can't feel it. There is another high-pitched scream, and something heavily collapses. It shakes the building, and you gasp out for breath instantly; your lungs ache and you're close to vomiting, but you tuck your head into your arms when another jet of light explodes out.

'Look what you've done!' Professor Grey yells.

'I fear you might have made a mistake breaking the rules. You see, I have no qualms with you defeating this trainer––but this isn't a respectable battle which I can tolerate. Might I also mention backup is on the way. You might want to scuttle off.'

Heavy footsteps near where you lay.

'I am not a woman who easily forfeits. You are unfamiliar with this kind of strength, Cyrus. That Weevile of yours may be powerful, but it sure is a small thing.' She clicks her fingers. 'Come on, my sweetheart. Let's finish him too.'

You stir.

A wave of snow blasts into your body, and you're unable to hear or see anything which happens next.

'Ha! How ridiculous. Weevile is an ice-type. Your tricks are fruitless.'

'Or are they? Fire Blast.'

Just like that, the blizzard of snowflakes transform into hot embers. The Weevile exclaims out in surprise, and flinches at the burn. But the poor thing is surrounded. Before it is able to return to its master, a blast of fire is directed towards its small body.

Eyes wide, you force yourself back onto your feet, ignoring the burns singing your clothes and skin. 'Floatzel!' Your water-type is released, 'Surf! Now!' On cue, your Floatzel emits a giant wave of water and the flames are extinguished. The wave crashes into Grey's creature, swallowing it whole. 'Finish it with an Ice Beam!'

'Not so fast. Shock that animal until it's unable to move!'

You're too slow. Her last remaining creature releases a wave of electricity, capturing your Floatzel into a torturous spasm.

You reach for your Pokeball.

'Horn Attack!'

What…?

You don't see the next Pokemon she releases. It's similar to a Rhyhorn, but its speed is different. 'Out of the way,' you hear Cyrus, but his advice doesn't reach your ears in time.

It is heavy.

And the impact winds you, a large cut down your spine when its horn drags over your flesh.

You tumble to the floor, vulnerable and easy prey. The creature skids to a halt, and turns to run back for you. You have to move. Groaning, you reach for another Pokeball, and immediately your Infernape escapes.

Fire halts the creature in its track, distracting it momentarily.

'Dragon Rush!'

Infernape dodges the move skilfully, but the attack was not intended for it. A wave of hot, blue fire absorbs the room; oxygen is stolen from your lungs for a second, and you watch as the creature which harmed you collapses unconscious.

Each time you see this Garchomp, you're never prepared. It is the largest you've witnessed, and even its glare is enough to chill any Pokemon or human to the bone. Wincing, you drag yourself out of the way. Professor Grey scoffs, and turns her attention to the Garchomp which has just arrived. 'Always one for a fancy entrance.'

'How many more?' Heat reaches your cheeks. You're not sure if Cyrus informed Cynthia about your whereabouts, or if she just knew. Regardless, you doubt she's pleased. 'I have a level eighty Garchomp here, so, for your sake, you should answer me. How many more of these things have you created?'

By this point, each scientist has fled from danger. Professor Grey remains, seething. 'Go ahead: you can destroy this place, but I have many more. We're simply another organisation! We have dedicated our lives to this work, and there is nothing you can do.'

Cyrus is chuckling to himself. You look over to him. 'Ah, you are a terrible liar.'

'What would you know? You gave up on this idea long ago. You're nothing.'

He takes this to heart. He doesn't express his pain, but you can tell. You can tell because you've seen him this way before.

Except you were holding the knife that time.

'More backup is on the way. So, I suppose you can answer to them instead,' Cyrus shrugs carelessly. 'I am finished here.'

Before he can leave, Cynthia grabs him by the scruff of his collar and shoves him forwards. 'This is your doing; you're not going anywhere.' Cyrus is taken by surprise, but reluctantly does as he's told. 'He is right: officers are on their way. You make the slightest movement, and I'll ensure you won't have any legs to stand on.'

'Fierce.' Grey glances at you. 'Did I hit a soft spot?'

Her amusement disappears when the Garchomp takes a step closer. You exhale, pushing yourself up against the wall, but it's difficult to move: you're not sure if your spine is all right, and your skin is certainly burnt; you sting all over, and it's hard to breathe but––

Footsteps.

You turn your head to where Cynthia is, and five officers appear, weapons strapped to their shoulder. A wave of relief floods through you. They hurry over to Professor Grey, who starts to laugh. But she's thrown off guard when the officers shove her against the wall, and handcuff her hands from behind.

More officers arrive to inspect the area, and the Professor is taken away––she flashes a little wink at you before she disappears upstairs without a fight.

'Dawn.'

Relief transforms into warmth, and, as much as you expect her to, Cynthia doesn't scold you. Instead, she kneels down, and places an arm around your back, before carefully helping you to your feet. It stings to do so, and she encourages you to lean most of your weight on her. She pulls you close, and you have no intention to leave her side.

When you look up, Cyrus has gone.

A nurse wants you to rest. You are sore, bruised and blood is oozing through your bandages, but all you can think about are your injured Pokemon, your Luxray in particular. However the nurse is not allowed to share any information with you, and it is heartbreaking. Because you have done it again: overestimated.

Too ambitious.

Stupid.

Cyrus was right.

I am a stupid girl.

And what about Grey? What will happen to her? Will they arrest her? Will they discover where the rest of her labs are? What happens next?

You are given morphine for the pain; you are eased into a mild state of relaxation, but it's not enough.

It's not enough.

It's not enough that you aren't the best. That all of those years travelling were worthless. That you were unable to save the world this time around; it was beyond your capabilities. Maybe that girl called Dawn who started off so young, so innocent, so sweet has gone completely now. Maybe that wisdom you once possessed as a child has abandoned you.

You think back to all of that.

When your Pokemon aged beside you, when you died and lived with them. The excitement, the thrill, the rush of it all.

Suddenly, Pokemon training is no longer a hobby; it has become a job.

A duty.

A duty of war, protecting others, while killing yourself in the process.

What have you become?

The girl, holding the Master Ball in her palms. Blinded by power.

What life is that…?

You throw the sheets of your body. Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to cry. Your throat narrows, aches, desperate to wail, but you refuse. You reject your agony. Yet your body is… ruined. Shredded and broken, bandaged up, healing; and you are immobile. While it is only for the time being, you are still in awe.

This is what you have become.

A girl, a soldier––defeated, by her own innocence.

From the other side, you can see him watching you; his form is that of a statue. Immobile; frozen. But his stare is alive. Never has he watched you this way before. The Distortion World has absorbed you both, and, for a split second, you are not his enemy, but his companion. His only friend, his only way out of this Hell.

Cyrus guides you. Not very far, but he guides you to the next step.

The three spirits observe your every move. You have become a fascination, and the few organisms who have survived this lonely land are in awe. Your power resonates. Those three spirits who nobody has ever been able to capture approach you with confidence; they warm up to you. They trust you. They trust you to save them.

Each one, they take your hand, send you closer and closer towards the God of Death.

Never.

Never have you witnessed anything more disturbing, yet graceful. More ugly, yet exquisite.

You are almost the naive girl, earning her first Pokemon. Easily handled and manoeuvred about by God's hand.

Gravity slips away.

You float. Glide through the air.

Logic has no home here.

The laws have disintegrated.

… and it watches you.

Always.

Submissive to your every command; the God is yours.

Perhaps it waits. Waits for the opportune moment. To unleash from the Master Ball, and take you whole.

You can feel its eyes on your back.

Sewn into your mind.

Can feel its claws down your spine.

Luxray is dead.

You don't know how you know.

But you know.

You know before the nurse informs you, and you feel nothing. You don't think about the creature you once cuddled close. Your second companion, who you caught at the tender level of three. You don't, can't, think.

All there is to think is your Luxray.

'Can I contact anybody? Is there somebody you need to speak to?'

Barry is the first person who comes to mind.

Immediately you dismiss him. He isn't very good with emotions; isn't very good at offering comfort. Your mind is frazzled, blurred, numb, for a long while.

Then, all along, you realise there's only been one person you've wanted to see.

How would she react?

What would she think?

Your own Pokemon, deceased.

What kind of trainer allows their Pokemon to die?

What kind of trainer doesn't weep when their Pokemon slips between their fingers?

You envy Cyrus.

The Cyrus before you.

Dead, with a rotting heart.

Immune to agony.

She comes to you anyway.

You're not quite sure how to tell her, but before you part your lips to speak, you realise she's already been informed. Probably before you. And you wonder how long that has been; how long has it been since Luxray passed? Did it die immediately, the moment Grey sent it thudding into the wall? As if it were a toy, something flimsy to fling around.

'But you're still with us.'

Just.

At least you survived. At least you got away, even if it resulted in half of your body being mutilated.

You don't have a reaction. Not really.

She touches your face. You jolt, but she holds you steady, and then you breathe. You find her eyes, and breathe, and then, finally, it all tips over.

Everything.

From the day you obtained your first Pokemon, to catching your first; your first Gym Badge; confronted by Cyrus; taught by the woman who cradles your head so softly; the three spirits; the Lakes; Galactic; that godforsaken realm, and then this.

Fate has been unkind, and now you have endured the consequences.

'I'm sorry.'

It comes out in a burst.

A sudden release.

Your bottled emotions pour out, and you weep an apology. But you don't know why; you can't pinpoint what you're sorry about. Everything. Everything you are sorry about. You are sorry you walked along this tragic path, you are sorry you became powerful, that you caught the most desired Pokemon on earth––

You are sorry for being imperfect.

Not good enough.

Sorry you lost a friend, sorry you failed, sorry you could do nothing but die in those few seconds.

'No. Shh, it's all right.'

She wipes a tear falling across your cheek, and you have to look away at that point. Ashamed to cry, ashamed to let yourself tear apart before her. You wanted to be brilliant, and somehow became the most pitiful girl to exist.

Was this what happened to Red?

The reason for his sad smiles, his eventless losses.

His blunt joy.

'You tried. That's plenty.'

If she says anymore, you're not sure you can take it. Not sure you'll be able to stop yourself from breaking entirely.

Your ribs, chest and heart ache when you reach for her. And she holds you, holds you tightly, yet so carefully, her hands soft against your bruised flesh. You cling on, hiding your face into the crook of her neck, and that's all you can do. Let yourself go. To tremble in this woman's arms, until the pain isn't so bad anymore.

Patience is all she has to offer you, but you steal it all; take it.

And she holds, cuddles you, cradles you, for so long, you forget. But it is still not enough. Still not enough to erase your memories; those chilling images. Your loss. Yet so, you let her hold you, let yourself hold her; in this little dark place, she's all you have.

Your eyes are sore, cheeks red, and your heart is gaping with pain. You are a warrior in desperate need of rest; of a moment.

The two of you draw back. Slightly. You look down, and feel the weight of your chest; your wounds, and your head.

Then you are kissed.

Nothing compares. Nothing compares to her softness; how time freezes. How the world is ceaseless and all you can smell, taste, find, is her.

That's all it takes to ease the pain.

Her lips are a feather against yours. Almost ghostly. So gentle, afraid the most tender gesture may hurt you more.

But you have never associated her with agony. Never.

'You are not to blame, darling.'

author's note: This chapter was a beast to write! I had no idea these two would have so much depth, but, lo and behold, they do.

I am not too sure who is reading this story but, if you are, please share your thoughts. Either way, thank you very much! I have a busy life at the moment, so I'm not too sure when I'll next be able to update, however it should hopefully be soon.