author's note: Hi! So, with this chapter, I wanted to analyse both Dawn and Cynthia's histories (the latter more so). There's not much drama or action in this chapter. I felt it was about time these two had some peace.
Please do share your thoughts with me! As always, I appreciate any feedback sent my way.
Until next time!

Inamorata
6.

If you were told at fourteen that things would end this way, you wouldn't have believed it. To be precise, if somebody told you that you would have defeated The Elite Four, you wouldn't have believed a word. Because that was the ambition people like Barry had; you, on the other hand, were not considered so highly.

Yet as the days passed, the years progressed, the more opportune that glory seemed to be. By the time you achieved your final badge, it was already too late.

All choice was taken from you.

Your fate determined, you went on ahead, leaving your best friend behind.

Sometimes, you're lonely, and you think too much. The sort of thoughts which keep you awake. For some reason, it's not really Pokemon that keep you up at night; it's more personal. You worry about your mother, about Barry; you worry about your own party. And you worry about the next step. What comes next. Who comes next. When will next even arrive.

Sometimes, you're lonely, and the fire you've set up is your only company.

You are sixteen. Training has lost its thrill. When it was thrilling, you were younger; inexperienced. You had only read about those infamous trainers, the ones only whispered in legends. As children, you and Barry would look through storybooks and dazzle at the amazing adventures. Each time, Barry promised you that he and you would become like that: legends.

Bruised, bloody and suffering broken bones, you're not entirely sure if becoming a legend is as romantic as it sounds.

The nearest Pokemon Centre is miles ahead. You've ran out of potions, and the last Pokemon in your party is your Monferno, but even your closest party member can barely stand. It is too weak to defend you, so you must face the wilderness alone.

At night, that is terrifying.

Sometimes, you're lonely, and you can hear wild Pokemon feasting on meat. You can hear them growling, watching your every move. Sometimes, you're lonely, and when it all gets a bit overwhelming, you start to cry. Not loudly. But heavily. Your hug your knees, and drop your head into your arms. And cry. You cry until you're sore. Cry until your eyes are sore, your lungs are screaming, and all you can do is fall to the aside, and collapse.

You realise that the last time you slept this well, you were thirteen years old.

Over ten years ago. Before you were given your first Pokemon. When you were innocent, oblivious and blissfully unaware. You haven't been able to sleep since, either too afraid or simply too broken. You have never been given the luxury to relax.

And then she kisses you, and you kiss her, and then you fall asleep.

Just like that.

There's not really much else to it. Perhaps all of your exhaustion has finally slipped through, or perhaps it's something more: perhaps it's feeling safe. Knowing that you are safe. Or, perhaps it is knowing that nothing else shall happen next. That, finally, there isn't a next. You can simply stay in one place, at one time, and you shall not be demanded anything.

Of course, perfection does not arise easily.

You wake up abruptly at one point; you don't know the time. Whether morning has arrived, or if it is still dawn, or if the evening still cradles you both. But you wake up regardless, and maybe it's instinct; this engrained worry. You must always be alert, you must always be awake; you must always dread the very worst.

One of many sacrifices a trainer vows to.

She's not entirely awake herself, but she senses you stir; she knows you, so she tightens her hold around your waist and pulls you a little closer. You feel her warmth, how soft her body is against yours, and her scent is familiar––as it has been when you first met her. Fatigue instantly knocks, and your eyes droop, and you cling on.

You think about the orphaned girl Rowan spoke about, which feels months ago now. As you do, you feel her absently run her fingers through your hair, and it's a blissful sensation; your mind erases any approaching concerns. The mattress feels as if it sinks you in, and then you're dreaming again, pressed up against her.

There isn't a next.

Eventually your Monferno does faint, and, sheltering your Pokemon from further damage, you run for the nearest Pokemon Centre.

It takes you over half a day.

By the time you reach there, you're starved, dehydrated and, due to being attacked by multiple Pokemon, you're losing blood.

Speedily, your Pokemon are taken; you are given water, food, a quick medical checkup. Despite several cuts, and a few broken bones, you're fine. The nurse patches you up, and you sit in the waiting room. You look a mess; dirty and tired. And you feel disgusting; you feel cheap and worthless.

A trainer, younger, sees you in the waiting room and he widens his eyes.

You sympathise. That poor child has no idea what's coming to him if he keeps going.

No one notices or cares about the lone trainer in the corner of the room, except for one. She's travelled here for business reasons; reasons you are not privy to, but she recognises you the moment she enters the Centre. And it's that quick recognition which you find flattering. If not slightly endearing.

Cynthia may have a reputation to maintain, but when it comes to looking out for young trainers, she doesn't allow her ego to get in the way.

Forgetting her previous errand, she walks over to where you're seated, 'Fancy meeting you here.'

You try to smile, but fail miserably. 'I'm waiting for my Pokemon.'

'There's little to not point waiting here, Dawn. You need a bed to sleep on. You look exhausted.'

'I'm fine.'

'Well, I certainly admire your determination, but you can't fool me. Come with me: I'll pay for your room for the night.'

You widen your eyes. 'No! I… I want to wait. I can't sleep knowing my Pokemon are hurt.'

Immediately her expression softens, and then there's a sort of relief in her eyes. 'I understand.' She sits beside you, and either you're very cold, or sensitive, or both, but her warmth bounces off you. You even feel the urge to lean into her. 'Then I shall wait with you.'

You look at her as if she's mad. 'Don't you have other things to do?'

'At this hour? Not at all. I was, originally, meant to meet somebody for a brief tournament, but I might make a pass.' She smiles crookedly. 'You're much more fun to be around than they are, anyway!'

You suddenly feel very self-conscious, and decide to stare at the wall.

'Okay.'

It's almost infuriating how nice she can be, but you feel touched instead.

'Have you eaten?'

'I ate something a while back.'

'Oh. You should eat.'

'But I––'

'Nurse?' You shut your mouth when a nurse walks over to you both. 'Please could you fetch some food for my friend here? She's undernourished, and I fear she may collapse any second.'

'Of course,' the nurse smiles, hurrying away.

You sigh heavily. There's no point arguing. Cynthia moves towards you slightly and presses a hand to your back. You're alert again. 'It is very foolish for a trainer to wander around without any essentials for her, or her own Pokemon.'

'I know,' you mumble. 'I underestimated how long it would take me to get here.'

'It is hard to tell. I, too, had the same problem when I was a younger trainer.' You raise a brow, and look at her. She's smiling at you fondly. 'You'll get the hang of it. Here.' She opens her bag and retrieves a small pouch of potions. 'Use these wisely.' Before you can protest, she pushes the pouch into your arms. 'Also, there's no rush. Don't hurry off without a good night's rest.'

You press the pouch to your chest. A good night's rest? You're not sure what that means anymore.

The nurse returns, and offers you several packets of food and drink. You're mute, and have no energy to respond; Cynthia thanks her, before turning her attention back to you. 'Hey, you want to know a secret trick into Pokemon training?'

Your attention spikes––noticeably.

She grins and slides the food towards you. 'Eating. Your blood sugar level has dropped. Eat; trust me, you'll feel better.' After a short pause, you reach over and take a packet.

Just as you do, another nurse comes forward. 'Are you Dawn? Good news: your Pokemon are healed up and resting. You can pick them up in the morning.' Relief floods through you, and you watch her walk away. Thank God. Slumping your shoulders, you open the packet of food.

'See? Nothing at all to worry about.' Cynthia stands to leave, and your heart jolts. Forgetting the food, you reach out and grab her wrist. Taken by surprise, she looks back at you. 'Is something the matter?'

You instantly let go of her, and despite the heat rising in your cheeks, you ask, 'Is it always this lonely?'

After a slight pause, Cynthia shakes her head. 'Of course not. Sometimes it is, but most of the tine––I can't think of anything less lonely. In fact, between you and me, I get rather sick of the company.' You smile. For the first time, you smile. 'Training is a hard career to pursue; that's why so little succeed. But you're tough; you can take it.' She exhales. 'Listen: training is only lonely if you make it lonely.'

You blink. Lower your gaze.

'Pokemon aren't just there to defend you. They are your friends. They stop you from becoming lonely.'

It's the exhaustion, you convince yourself while wiping away a tear. You're tired and emotionally overwhelmed.

'Dawn?'

You look up at her.

'You're going the right way. Don't turn back when you're so close.'

When you wake up––properly––there is an empty space beside you, and a chill snaps. You dare open your eyes, certain everything might have possibly been a dream, but it isn't. She hasn't left you. As always, she has stayed. Only to have risen earlier. She's dressed, seated at the window ledge you vacated the previous night. There is a book in her lap, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

The morning is cold, but the sunlight is warm. Window open, you can hear life down below, and yet, inside the room, it's so settling and calm. Pulling at the sheets slightly, she hears you, and the book is forgotten about. She watches you with this familiar, yet unique smile––it's almost dreamy, but still possessing that warmth; a smile for you.

You squint, and rub your eye with the heel of your palm. 'I didn't know you wore glasses.'

'Hm?' Realisation dawns. 'Oh.' She takes them off. 'Long-sighted.'

'What time is it?'

'A little past nine. Why? Do you have a prior engagement?'

She's teasing. You chortle. 'No.' Sitting upright, the previous day comes flooding back. From Rowan meeting you at the hospital, to Grey manipulating you and then Cynthia arriving at your door. You swallow, and immediately want to lie back in bed.

'Dawn?'

You divert your attention back to Cynthia, and it takes your breath. Not necessarily the fact you slept with her; that this woman you've admired for so long has mutual feelings for you as well. It's just the fact she's here.

There isn't anything non-personal about this. It is personal.

Nothing to do with training, Pokemon, Galactic, or anything of the sort. It's entirely personal, and nothing has been personal for you in years. For the most part, it's refreshing, but whatever else it is, you can't quite pinpoint.

You don't know how this is supposed to go; whether you should dress and continue as if nothing happened, or if this does mean anything significant. Needless to say, you can only hope the latter. Christ, if it were the latter, you certainly wouldn't leave the bed. You'd happily retire from training for months if you could.

Closing her book, and placing her glasses atop, Cynthia walks over towards you. She sits on the side of the bed, and you're astonished by the colour of her eyes. They are usually grey, but there's always a tint of colour in them, be it from the room, the sky, or even her mood. Right now, they're a blue-ish shade. Watery and bright.

Innocent.

'Are you all right?'

You blink. Bizarrely, you're rather thrown by her question. 'I think so…? I mean, this has never happened to me, so I don't know what I ought to be feeling.'

She laughs softly. 'There isn't an ought in this situation. I just, genuinely, wanted to know if you were all right.'

'I am.'

It may as well been the hundredth time, because no matter how many times she kisses you, you're left stumped. Startled, if not paralysed. She kisses you softly, a contrast to the kisses you both shared only a few hours ago, locked in each other's arms. It's interesting: to see her in both lights. And yet they're both still very her.

'Good: so am I.' She takes your hand and squeezes. 'I want to show you something.'

'Okay.'

She pulls at you slightly, before letting go and proceeding to the window. You wrap a sheet around your body and follow. Cynthia places an arm around your hip, and points upwards into the blue, cloudless sky.

Multiple colours, of reds, oranges, yellows, even greens, paint the sky. It seems to sparkle, and it is a permanent mark. Gorgeous.

'Do you know the Pokemon which creates such a masterpiece?'

You know, but would rather she explain.

'That is Ho-Oh. I saw it fly past while you were sleeping. A magical creature. It has to be one of my favourites.' She pauses. 'Legend has it that anybody who witnesses this great creature is promised eternal happiness.'

You smile faintly.

'It's a lonely one. Nobody really knows why it flies around so aimlessly. However, there have been countless stories of it appearing to trainers with a pure heart. In other words, this Pokemon is just in search of good company.'

'What about the rainbow?' You ask. 'Does that have any significance?'

'The colour of its feathers.' She cranes her head to the side. 'Not sure what it's doing here; its original home is in the Johto region.'

You look at her. And have to wonder if this person is real.

It has been that way from the very start: you, wondering. You've been through Hell on your journey as a Pokemon Master, and you came out half damaged.

Cynthia has undoubtedly gone through the same, so how is it possible for this woman to be okay? Not only that, but to possess this undying love for Pokemon, be it her own, or others. Who can still look at the world after its corruption and ugliness, and still allow it to leave her in awe.

Who finds those most simple decisions so complicated, and yet the most dangerous so black-and-white. It's almost innocent; it is innocent, how her kindness has no limits, even to those who detest her presence.

You're bewildered.

But, perhaps, that's the point. Bewilderingly in love.

You take several steps away from the window, until you're seated on the bed again. Cynthia doesn't follow, but watches you with a little concern. You finally allow your bewilderment to reveal itself, and it's a challenge at first.

'I'm sorry.'

'Whatever for?'

'For approaching you; for being rude to you. Before.'

Her eyes drift to the right for the moment, and then back at you. 'There's nothing to apologise for. You were upset. There was certainly a misunderstanding, but I like to believe we've overcome any troubles we may have had.'

You pull the sheet over you tighter. 'Can you tell me what you were like? When you were training? And, can you tell me how you were able to do all of that, knowing that your parents died the way they did?' Murdered, killed, by the creatures she apparently loves so dearly. 'I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I just need to understand. How can you live with that?'

It's a struggle, to keep eye contact. Because you have asked so much of her, and she has asked nothing of you. There's hesitance, and a moment of withdrawal, but this is Cynthia: she has a big heart, with many stories to tell; and maybe she's ready to tell you this one.

Maybe.

'I don't always. I am better than I was, though.'

She sits next to you.

'It's quite simple really.' She smiles at you, but it disappears quickly. Cynthia shrugs. 'Life is short. I didn't want to spend it feeling negatively about the world around me. How can I live happily when I'm filled with hatred? I know what happens to people who live that way. Who endure vengeance their whole life, who want to do nothing but spread their own pain. They want to make other lives miserable, simply because they, themselves, have been miserable.'

You drop your eyes to her lips, and are tempted to kiss them.

'I like making people happy. So, I ignore the bad stuff. I lost my family when I was a little girl, but I wouldn't ever use their deaths to excuse myself from doing anything cruel.'

That has always been clear to you: her intentions, why she behaves the way she does, but you've never known the real story behind it.

'May I ask?'

You raise your brows, and nod.

'What inspired you to begin your training? I hear you mother was famous at Hearthome for her countless wins at the Contest Hall.'

'Oh.' You snort. 'She enjoys reminding me about that.'

'Not what inspired you?'

You shake your head.

'What of your father?'

'I never knew him… I never think about him. At all. The last time I asked about him I was ten. But whenever I did ask, my mother would always quickly change topic. She didn't like him very much––so I stopped thinking about him.'

Cynthia says nothing.

'I don't think anything necessarily inspired me. It just seemed to be the only opportunity available at the time.'

'I'm glad it was.'

'Mm. Yeah. Me too.'

And, truthfully, you are glad. Because you might have ended up worse for wear by the end, but, along the way, you met good people, developed as a person; all-around, you, yourself––you became better. You became you.

There were those people along the way who helped fit the pieces together; who let you grow.

And heal afterwards.

'I met Grey yesterday. She wanted me to bring Cyrus to her, and then she would reveal where her remaining labs are located. Before she––' tried to convince me I should hate you, that you were the reason I'm here, '––Before she tricked me.' You meet her eyes again, and she's frowning now. Slightly puzzled. 'She said some things to me. Let's just say some of those things are why I was, initially, upset with you. And that's why I'm sorry. Because I know you're the last person who would go out of their way in order to hurt somebody.'

'What are going to do next?'

'I don't know.' You run a hand through your hair. 'I don't want to think about the next.'

'Can I ask? What did she say?'

You can't say. Hell, you can barely think. It hurts. It hurts knowing that you were angry at her, that you did feel hatred towards her, if only for a few short hours. That you were so easily convinced that yes, you were manipulated, you were talked into danger; that you were carved into a weapon, and used selfishly by your mentor.

When you look at her now, you can't quite believe you even entertained the thought.

And yet, you almost can.

She is kind, she is selfless, she is wonderful and, somehow, that is what makes her so innocent. She may not hurt you directly, but that innocence and unconditional joy in what she does––when she thinks she is only doing good for you, she is actually doing the worst.

You cannot blame her for that.

Kindness is all she depends on; what has pushed her to here, so you cannot blame her for that.

You cannot blame her for watching your back when no one else would; when no one else would notice.

'Lies,' you exhale. You turn to face her, 'She said lies.'

Reaching for her, you kiss her lips, and have her there. She doesn't refuse you, and you kiss her a little deeper, a little harder, straddling her lap. It is soft, gentle, and your kisses confess the rest. She pulls slightly at the sheet you're bound in, and you both part for a moment.

If you could spend the rest of your life this way, then you would be happy.

Indefinitely.

'How does it feel?' Barry asks you, opening the first bottle of champagne of the night. 'Being Pokemon Champion and all of that? I'm crazy jealous of you, by the way, but seriously: how does it feel? Bet you feel real good about yourself, right?'

The cork pops out, and Barry eagerly pours you two glasses.

'Yeah, I feel good.'

Your glasses clink.

'Good?' He downs the champagne in one. 'Really? Just good? Dawn, I'd be over the moon! You defeated the Champion of Sinnoh; you literally took her place in the Elite.'

She wanted you to feel that way as well: overjoyed. Excited. Damn proud of yourself.

But all you can think about is––that's it. It's over.

This didn't turn out to be the ending you wanted.

You weren't after the League. After all this time, there was something––someone––you sought instead.

Glory isn't always in a title.

You managed to fall in love with someone you thought would never love you back.

'I'm going to travel.'

Barry chokes on his next glass of champagne. 'You're gonna what?'

'Travel.' You place your glass down. 'Travel to other regions.' Get away from here. Far away. And maybe you'll be gone for months, years even; as long as you're away from Sinnoh, this place which has thrusted so much nightmare, so much horror, in your path.

Far away from all of that.

Far away from her.

A chance to remedy yourself.

So, while you kiss her, hold her, need her close, you whisper against her lips that you left partly because of her.

Because of everything else.

Yet––

'I think the only reason I came back, was to be with you.'