author's note: Just a quick note to say thank you to everybody who left a comment on the previous chapter. I really, really appreciate your feedback so much; it means the absolute world to me.

I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Inamorata
4.

The burial of an owned Pokemon is a private ritual; one which only the trainer attends. Some like to glamorise them, but you stick to simple. Once you're able to walk again, you take your Luxray with you, gently placing it in the hole you dug out. There isn't much to be said. You don't think it is necessary to share your thoughts; it knows how you feel, knows what you thought of it, knows that you didn't mean for any of this to happen.

Naturally, the rest of your party feel Luxray's absence, and all of their misery combined sends you into a state of severe depression. Pokemon and their trainers have an inextricable, psychological connection; you feel as they do, only more extreme. Your Infernape prefers to stay out of its Pokeball, and spends more time snuggling up beside you while your wounds heal. It is unusually quiet, and when you try to talk to it, it either ignores you or doesn't have the motivation to reply.

It angers you immensely, but nobody approaches you about Professor Grey; whether or not she has revealed anything, what shall happen to her. You're revolted. Humiliated, even. You gave a Pokemon's life in order to capture that maddened woman. Doesn't anybody have the decency to at least tell you what the next step is? This is your case, and you fought for it; if it weren't for you, then Professor Grey would still be conducting her research.

Of course, it becomes clear after a while.

Even if you're at the age of twenty-four, people still look at you as a child. Someone in need of protecting. Which is absurd. When you were a child, you didn't require protection––you had your Pokemon, and they had you. The only reason you survived Cyrus and his chilling plans was because you were protected; you were brilliant and, damn it, you still are.

Did she kiss you for that reason…?

Did she kiss you for your brilliance? Or, did she kiss you because you were vulnerable in that moment? Did she kiss you for the sake of kissing you, or was it all empathy; a tender action of sympathy which meant nothing?

Has everything between you both been nothing?

Barry visits you, and helps pull you out of your depressive slumber. He doesn't ask about Professor Grey, or the fact you went on ahead without him. The trainer is aware of your loss, and decides to use common sense.

What is important is his friend. So, he sits beside you on the bed, and cuddles you.

It's nice, seeing him this way. Barry has always been compulsive and hurried, but the sight of seeing you damaged and hurt––

––halts him.

In some attempt to help you feel better, he jabs at his own self esteem. 'Better you than me. If I had been there instead, all of my Pokemon would have been taken.' He pauses. Then smiles. 'That's why you defeated the Elite Four, y'know? Because you're that good.'

You don't reply, but you appreciate his words.

He may not be good with emotions, but Barry is trying, and that's more than enough.

'I got an idea.' Pulling away from you, Barry slips off the bed. 'How about a battle? That'll not only cheer you up, but your Pokemon too. Hey, I'll go easy on you!'

A part of you can't handle the thought. Battling. Christ… you've had your fair share already, and you don't think you can take it anymore. The very thought of your Pokemon becoming further injured breaks your heart all over again.

Yet, another part of you, this hungry, vengeful, wonderful and sweet part of you, is what forces you to your feet.

You will not say no.

Not to Grey, not to Barry, not to anybody. You are your own woman, and even if the loss of a Pokemon has trampled your spirit, you will keep going.

That's what you have been doing all of these years: accepting defeat, but holding your ground.

Outside the Pokemon Centre is a small tournament area for trainers to practice. It is all meant light-heartedly; no significant damage is to be caused to Pokemon in this platform. You think Barry chose this stadium specifically for that reason. This isn't a serious battle; not a competition either. Just a little helping hand to get you back into training again.

It is painful to walk. Your leg is sore, and you continue to depend on a crutch, but your disabilities will not have an impact on your battling. Beside you, your Infernape walks at your pace, and you can sense it starting to feel excited. Perhaps Barry's idea isn't so silly after all; maybe this will do your Pokemon good, as well as yourself.

Barry retrieves his Pokeball, and throws it towards the centre of the stadium.

The amount of damage inflicted is minimal.

All of your Pokemon have had the opportunity to fight, and they're all been enthusiastic, bar one. Your Garchomp has always been the fiercest out of the lot, but also the most moody. It refuses to hear orders, and you're slightly embarrassed, but Barry makes a small joke, and encourages you to choose another Pokemon to fight.

You win. You're not sure if Barry allows you to, but you still won, and it feels good. Or, perhaps your Pokemon's joy and enthusiasm is what feels good. Really, you don't know. Needless to say, Infernape has cheered up, and is now paying attention to what you say. Barry cuddles you one last time, and then disappears off to continue his own work.

Which leaves you with Garchomp. You return Infernape into its Pokeball, and turn to the large dragon.

It is a small Garchomp, as far as Garchomps go, but its unusual size has not reflected its power in the slightest way. However, you've always thought its smallness is what has caused it to feel emotions so powerfully. It isn't Luxray's death which has made it disinterested in its trainer; there's more depth to its grumpiness.

You can try and reason with the Pokemon, but Garchomp is scary, and while it is loyal to you, you know it can kill with just a slash of its claws.

Just like you are, your Garchomp is very aware of your failure.

However, more to the fact, it is irritated you did not use it when you could. Out of your whole party, Garchomp is the most powerful, and you supposedly ignored it when it could have been of great use. Perhaps what it is enduring is betrayal, but its respect for you has certainly diminished considerably. You are a reckless trainer if you allow a Pokemon to die for absolutely no reason.

In other words, you could have won if you gave Garchomp a chance.

This is pride, self esteem and value all mixed together; all crushed in one, and you accept your blame.

But, you have limits to your patience as well.

'Will you behave like this for the remainder of the day?'

Garchomp has its back turned, and is apparently fascinated in what is happening outside of the stadium gates.

It doesn't offer a reply of any sort.

You're hurt.

'Very well.' You grab its Pokeball. 'Return.'

Pokemon psychology is a complex subject. You kindly ask a nurse if she would provide you a few books on the matter, and, within the hour, she returns with them. This is probably all worthless, because Garchomp might see sense in time, but how can you be back on your feet, when one member of your party isn't?

Training has always been about teamwork. You can't be a trainer if you don't care for all of your Pokemon equally.

Sitting upright in bed, you flick through the books, and some chapters are relevant, but they don't necessarily answer your questions. Much advice is given on feeding your depressed Pokemon with poffins, taking them on leisurely strolls, dressing them up (you snort at that), entering them into competitions (yeah, right, Garchomp would love that), or training them consistently in battle.

You try feeding Garchomp its favourite poffins but it refuses. While your other Pokemon greedily much away at their treats, Garchomp remains reluctant. This is further proven when your Floatzel nudges a poffin in Garchomp's direction. Garchomp turns and roars at your companion, to which Floatzel hisses and stands up straight in defence.

Before both of your Pokemon end up hurting each other, you immediately intervene. 'Floatzel, back down!' Your Pokemon growls in the back of its throat, but drops to all fours. It reluctantly walks away.

You look over at Garchomp, and it huffs at you, smoke escaping its nostrils.

Now that it feels your anger, you worry any reconciliation might be too late. If your Garchomp continues to not only abuse you, but your Pokemon, you won't know what to do.

Perhaps this is you losing a friend.

You're close to giving up on the books; they're useless and so out of touch with reality. Pokemon can have deep mental states of depression, just like humans can––some tasty treats won't do the trick! More is required, but you have no idea where to start.

By this point, you have started to walk without your crutch. It makes life a heck of a lot easier, and allows you to spend more time on your feet. You borrow the Pokemon Centre's stadium for a couple of hours, releasing only your Garchomp.

'How about it? The whole stadium is yours, and as your trainer, I am allowing you to unload your anger. Do what you will.'

As expected, Garchomp snorts, and prefers the view of the outside.

'I made a mistake,' you say. 'And I have apologised.'

Still nothing.

You clench your jaw. What more can you do? Is your Garchomp truly this selfish? You have done everything. You have fed it treats, given it special attention, allowed it to ruin a stadium for Christ's sake and still it offers you nothing.

Would it rather you ripped your identity from it, and that you walked away?

So, after everything, you would just abandon it. You would leave it be forever, and that would be that. You will have lost two Pokemon in less than a month.

And they call you Champion.

'Well, well: would you look at you?'

You're jumped out of your reverie, and whip your head around. Cynthia has just entered the stadium, and you're surprised to see her; it has been a while, after all. In fact, you were fairly certain she had no intention to see you at all.

'I knew you would heal fast.' She comes over to where you stand, glances at your Garchomp once, and then back at you. 'Are you both having a minor fallout?'

'I wouldn't say minor…' you mumble.

'That isn't all right.' She takes a Pokeball. 'What gender is your Garchomp?'

'Male.'

'Well, if he goes that way, I think what he wants is a little familiar attention.' She throws her Pokeball in the direction of your Garchomp, and out from it appears her own. Cynthia's is more advanced, and not to mention larger; its presence is dominating and frightening, but to another Garchomp, its presence is welcomed.

To your relief, your Garchomp decides to show some manners, and acknowledges Cynthia's Pokemon. Due to its own experience of grief and life in general, Cynthia's Garchomp registers the issue, and you're kind of expecting it to show some form of affection.

However this is a Garchomp.

They are violent creatures.

So when Cynthia's Garchomp hits yours across the head, you exclaim in horror.

'Dawn, calm down. My Garchomp has not been given permission to harm your Pokemon; she's just slapping a little sense into him.' Your Garchomp growls at the other, but seems to relax a little. 'Quite literally too.'

Just like that, your Garchomp has calmed itself, and the two start to have what appears to be a conversation.

Whatever is being discussed, you don't mind. As long as your Garchomp has started cooperating with somebody, even if it's not you.

'Have you been okay?' Cynthia has lost interest; she turns full attention to you, and you can feel her gaze. 'I apologise; I intended to visit you, but what with everything that has happened, I have been quite busy.'

You feel bitter at that. 'So busy you haven't been able to tell me what's going on?' Cynthia raises a brow. 'I have been left in the dark.'

'Yes, I am aware. I didn't want anybody to tell you anything; not until you were okay.'

'I have been okay for weeks.'

'Dawn. Please. Control your temper; it doesn't look good on you.' She smiles crookedly. 'Listen, I understand you are frustrated, but you have had plenty on your plate. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt again. You need to start trusting me.'

You open your mouth to retort, but she catches you there.

So, you do as she says, and calm down. 'I do trust you.'

Her face softens at that. 'Good; I'm glad.' She smiles at you properly then; it's kind and bright. 'Will you answer my question? Have you been okay?'

'Yes,' you say. You look at her eyes once, and decide to never look again. Those eyes are so blue and grey and light, they could tear you apart. 'I have.'

'I've been worried.' A pause. 'The nurses informed me you've been researching into Pokemon psychology.'

'Ah.' Suddenly the floor is so interesting. 'I wanted to figure out how to help my Garchomp.'

'You could have asked me.'

'You were busy.'

'I'm never busy when it comes to you, Dawn.'

Heat reaches your cheeks. The floor is still interesting. 'I couldn't––' You inhale, then finally raise your gaze. You still won't look at her, but you know she's looking at you. And as much as you refuse to admit it, you like it; you like it when she pays attention to you, when all she's focussed on is you. You feel better, you feel as if you're cared for. You feel known. 'I couldn't ask.'

'Why?'

You exhale shakily. 'When I was younger, I would have asked, but things are different now. Anyway, it doesn't matter.'

Except it does matter.

A lot.

Cynthia waits. But there is nothing left to say, and if she doesn't stop gazing at you like that you are certain you are going to drown in everything you're feeling.

Finally, finally, she releases you from her hold.

'I understand.'

Your throat narrows.

You wish she didn't understand; you wish she would fight for an answer. A proper answer.

'Garchomp?' At her call, Cynthia's Garchomp walks away from your own and comes to join her. 'Say, Dawn, now that your Garchomp is feeling a little less blue, how would you feel towards a battle? I assure you, this will not be a serious one.'

'Thank you, but my friend, uh––Barry, he's already done that.'

'Another one shan't hurt. Not to mention––' she gestures towards your less moody Garchomp, who's now looking at you for the first time in weeks. '––you have an extra teammate. Also: I'd be lying if I refused to admit I want another rematch. You were, and still are, the most thrilling trainer who has ever approached me.'

Your chest hurts from the scream you're holding back.

But, you take her compliment, and comply. 'Another one shan't hurt,' you repeat her words under your breath.

Trying to convince yourself.

Trying to stay sane.

You think about her kiss, and that's all you're ever able to think about.

Like Barry, Cynthia does go easy on you, but the odd occasion she teases; she might smack your Pokemon down with a sudden move, but it's all in good nature. Cynthia is gentle, even in battle, and she knows what she's doing.

Her Garchomp isn't as playful. However, it knows this isn't a serious battle, and so doesn't inflict too much harm. You allow your Floatzel to take it on, and after a few uses of Ice Beam, and one rather fierce assault of Dragon Rage, your Floatzel triumphs. Maybe Cynthia is allowing you to win, aware that this will only help boost your Pokemon's confidence after what occurred.

It is her Togekiss and Roserade which proves tricky.

Mostly because of their happiness, but for the former, there was one Pokemon in particular you sent out to defeat it.

Your Luxray would have enjoyed this battle.

It stings.

Stings so much you wipe your tears with the back of your hands, and Cynthia pauses the battle to comfort you.

Of course she does.

Maybe that's what makes you mad. What makes you cry harder.

And you're sick of crying.

'I'm sorry,' you sniff. 'I think I'm tired.'

'You fought well.'

Her voice is warm. You drop your hands to look at her, and there's still this daring look in her eyes from the battle, but a sort of contentment. What you make her feel. It's as if sunshine, flowers, everything pretty has carved itself into a single form. That's how she's always appeared to you, from the day you met her: radiant––so ridiculously in love with life.

You would have envied her, if you didn't admire her for it.

But perhaps it has always been more than mere admiration. At fifteen, you would have dismissed the idea, yet now?

Now you don't know.

You don't really know much. All you know is that when she looks at you this way, when she praises your training, when she cares––nothing else really matters anymore.

When the last of your tears have gone, you're able to speak. 'I'm sorry; I didn't mean to delay the battle. I wasn't expecting your invitation and…' You swallow. 'Just what you do to me. Since I was fifteen; you've just had this effect.'

'I have?'

'Mhmm.' You exhale. Look at her. A smile happens, and you're surprised yourself you're able to smile at a time like this. 'And then you kissed me.'

Cynthia doesn't necessarily respond, but she waits for whatever you have to say next.

'I was nervous. I am. With you.'

Your heart is ready to burst. You've said enough (too much) and the battle cannot be resumed. Cynthia releases your hand when you pull back. You didn't even realise she was touching you until now. As if her touch is necessary in everything; her comforting you has always been, so, you no longer notice. It no longer has an impact.

She reaches over and curls a strand of hair behind your ear.

'You don't need to be nervous around me.'

It dazzles you; stuns you into a momentary haven. Where all that is, is you and her. You glance to her lips, then to her eyes again, and wonder if this is the love they write about. Those sick and heartbroken, cradling their wounds through poetry.

But, you don't think that's something you can know about.

Cynthia either respects you more than she should, or is as clueless as you, because she looks down, and doesn't stop you from returning your Pokemon. All the while, you feel her presence, and it's heavy, and yet so up-lifting.

Delirious.

'If you like––' you turn to her, '––I can send Professor Rowan to you; he can update you on what has been happening.'

You wish her to stay, but you don't ask.

Can't.

Nodding once, you return the last of your Pokemon, and let her leave you.

As much as your body wails out.