Chapter Eight
Theory of Play

As night fell, Annabelle tended to his wounds.

It was a messy job. Stripping away Paul's amateur attempts at bandaging reopened the cuts and soon, both she and Paul were covered in fresh blood. She murmured sympathetically under her breath. "That Beedrill sure made a mess of your arms."

Paul shrugged. "Doesn't hurt."

Annabelle scoffed. "Like hell it doesn't."

She coiled the bandages around Paul's raised arm, her fingers working quickly and efficiently, the dressing falling into place like a chef working with spun sugar. Tightening and securing the bandages, Annabelle sat back to survey her work.

"There. That should hold for a while. Well, at least until we can get to a Pokemon Centre and have a nurse patch you up."

Paul grunted.

"Speaking of which," Annabelle continued with a worried glance to the darkening sky. "It's getting late. Too late to keep going. We should stop for the night."

"What? Right here?"

He was suddenly very aware of how dark it had become. How the thin branches of the trees reached out and looked like fingers trying to grab unsuspecting travellers. How it was near impossible to tell if the rustling all around them was the leaves shifting in the breeze, or a Pokemon sneaking up behind them through the bushes. Paul swallowed a lump forming in his throat. Had he ever spent the night outside before this?

Annabelle looked at him quizzically. "What? You scared?"

"No!" He said, perhaps harsher than he meant to. "I mean, is camping out here…safe?" he finished lamely.

"Course it is. Worse thing you're going to run into on Route 30 is… what? A Kakuna?"

"Or a Beedrill. Lest you forget."

"It's night. Pokemon sleep too." Annabelle was already on her feet, pulling something from her heavy backpack. "Once I get Abigail working on a fire, nothing will disturb us."

"You never hear the expression 'like moths to a flame'?"

"Well then, just be glad there are no Venomoth on Route 30." She countered easily. "Now come on. Get your tent out."

"…tent?"

Annabelle stopped. "You did bring a tent didn't you?"

Paul ran a hand along the length of his body. "Do I look like the kind of guy who goes camping for the kicks?"

"Admittedly, no. But… where the hell did you think you were gonna sleep?"

"Pokemon Centre?"

"Unbelievable. You know, there isn't a convenient Pokemon Centre at every corner. It's gonna take us at least a few days to get to Violet City. And there's no rest stops."

Paul suddenly felt very stupid. He searched through his bag while Annabelle continued hauling various implements out of hers. No tent. No sleeping bag. No blanket. Not even a pair of pyjamas. He felt the back of his neck burn with quiet embarrassment.

By the time he had pulled everything from his bag in the vaguest of hopes, messily refolded it and crammed it back in as if to illustrate its worthlessness, Annabelle had a fire going and a pink and purple patterned tent propped up under the shelter of some trees. Paul watched her hopefully as she dragged her various belongings inside it.

She caught him looking and frowned. "Forget it."

He didn't think it wise to argue.

At least, he reasoned, she was good enough to leave the fire crackling and burning all night. But these thoughts were little comfort as he pulled a thin hoodie over himself trying to get comfortable in the softest patch of grass he could find.

When he awoke, what felt like mere minutes later, he felt old. The sun was already high and uncomfortably warm and Paul could see the beginning of sunburn etched onto his bare arms and neck. As he struggled to get up, his back stooped and the backs of his legs ached. Finally on his feet, he stretched, every joint in his arms and legs popping in a symphony of clicks.

Annabelle popped her head out from the tent as Paul picked around the makeshift camp. "Morning! Sleep well?"

As insufferably cheery as always. Paul groaned and told her to go away. She only laughed in return, crawled out of the tent and started gathering her things. She had changed her clothes and looked fresh-faced. Paul wished he had had the sense to change his clothes as well. His shirt was crusted with day old sweat and was wrinkled and crumpled. But there was no opportunity to change now as Annabelle breezed past him, smelling of sweet vanilla and something flowery, telling him to hurry up as she wanted to move as soon as possible. His reply, suggesting that she was becoming too bossy for her own good went unheeded.

Annabelle led them still steadily north and Paul's limbs soon screamed with fresh pain at every step. Mentioning this to Annabelle got him no pity. She quipped "Muscle strain'll do that to you" and he swore she quickened her pace to spite him. Above their heads, Abigail soared and chirped through the flawless blue sky, relishing the freedom.

Paul's Pokeball felt heavy in the pocket of his jeans and he tried to ignore the sensation as it rubbed against the top of his thigh. His mind remained firmly occupied on the text which had reached his phone last night – Dest's boastful announcement he was in possession of a Ditto.

He came to an abrupt stop as they cleared a small pond with Pidgey sailing across. "I need to catch more Pokemon."

Annabelle, several paces ahead, did not even break her stride. "What are you saying?"

"Pokemon." Paul broke into a half-hearted jog to catch up. "I need to catch more Pokemon."

"Good luck." Annabelle said with a chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You serious? Isn't it obvious? Your Ledyba is not battle ready. I'd struggle to say he's even battle able. How else do you expect to catch Pokemon if you can't even train yours?"

Paul stiffened. "I can train it."

"And how do you expect to train him? Montage?" she said, snorting with laughter at her own joke.

Paul waited until she was done laughing before repeating. "I can train it."

Annabelle raised an eyebrow expectantly. "There's nothing much out here. And I don't think your Ledyba knows a single move."

"Perhaps not. But it'll learn. I know for a fact there are plenty of weak bug types here. Spinarak. Caterpie. Weedle. They're hardly a threat."

"You send a baby Pokemon like Ledyba into a battle without any moves and it'll get annihilated."

"Ugh, what the hell do you want from me, woman?" Paul said in frustration. "You moan at me for not wanting to train the Ledyba and then when I say I will, you bitch that it's not possible."

"I didn't say it wasn't possible. I said it could be dangerous. For Ledyba and for you. Don't you remember what happened yesterday?" she said, with a glance at Paul's bandaged arms.

"How could I forget?" he muttered.

"By all means, train the Ledyba. But you seem to think just chucking it straight into battle will be just fine and dandy. It's like you're expecting some sort of miracle."

Despite the chastisement, she was being almost irritatingly patient with him – speaking slowly and carefully like she was talking to a small child who was too stupid to know any better. He felt a pinprick of frustration burst under his skin. "Well what the hell do you think I should be doing?"

Her face broke into a broad smile. "If you can wait until we reach a clearing in a few miles, I think I know something that might help."

Paul felt his shoulders sag and his whole body droop. "A few… miles?"

"Yep. It'll help work up an appetite before lunch!" she said, springing forward again and resuming her quick pace.

The conversation obviously closed, Paul swallowed the words he wanted to say and followed her. It was a hot day, even for September, and sweat trickled down Paul's neck. He found himself yearning for an ice cold and refreshing can of Feraligatr energy drink to give him the boost he needed.

After what felt like an eternity, Annabelle came to a stop at a small pond enveloped by a thin circle of trees. "Let's stop here," she said, and before she could even finish her sentence, Paul crashed to the ground, his chest heaving with effort.

After a few minutes of lying on his back like an upturned beetle, his stomach betrayed him and growled loudly in the peace of the resting point. Annabelle sighed, but delved into her shoulder bag and produced a small, see-through bag which she plopped down in front of him.

Paul tore into the bag eagerly, but found himself disappointed when he found it to contain a small cereal bar, dried banana slices, a bottle of lukewarm water and a bag of mixed nuts which had been reduced mostly to crumbs. He looked at Annabelle incredulously.

"What?" she said through a mouthful of energy bar. "This is high energy food. It'll keep you going until lunch."

Paul sniffed. "I thought this was lunch."

"I'm not that cruel." Annabelle deflected. "There's a little Café a mile or so north from here, just before you turn onto Route 31. I was thinking we could stop there?"

It was a question, which Paul found unusual. He nodded and took a bite of the cereal bar. It tasted of… beige. With the occasional muted hint of some berry he didn't know the name of. And no matter how much he chewed, he couldn't break it down. He had to gulp down most of the water just to swallow it properly. Annabelle nibbled and grazed her way through her snacks with no obvious effect.

She whistled for Abigail and released Dusty no sooner had she swallowed the last mouthful. She produced some bags of Pokemon food and laid them out while Paul wondered just how much she could cram in that bag of hers. While the Pokemon feasted, she glared at Paul until he released Ledyba to join them. While Abigail focused on the food in front of her and barely acknowledged the tiny Ledyba, Dusty gazed at him with a mild curiosity, seemingly torn between fascination and the desire to keep his food as safe as possible.

Paul sat back and listened to the sound of the water bubbling in the pond nearby to him. His shirt was damp and sticking to his back, he could smell his own body odour invading his nostrils and for the first time in a long while, he found himself yearning for the cleansing invigoration of a bath or shower. Annabelle looked flushed, but happy, showing no sign of overheating as she guzzled persistently on her water bottle.

"So, what's this big idea you have then?" Paul asked when the silence got too much.

"Oh, yeah, that." Annabelle set her bottle of water down and pulled her knees under her chin. "Well. If we're lucky, I think we're already seeing results."

"What?

Annabelle nodded towards Dusty and Ledyba. The two Pokemon seemed to be playing a gentle game of tag; Ledyba waddling after Dusty, who kept just far enough away to ensure the Pokemon had to constantly change directions and speed to catch up.

"I don't get it."

"I thought not," Annabelle smiled. "Don't suppose you know of the theory of play in cognitive development?"

Paul blinked. That was a lot of big words. "No."

"Basically, it's this theory that started waaaaay back among psychologists. It was this idea that young children developed socially, emotionally and cognitively through imaginative and co-operative play."

She was using even more complicated words and Paul struggled to keep sense of what she was saying. "Yeah…" he said. "But that's kids. Isn't it?"

"You'll be amazed at how it actually corresponds to Pokemon too." Annabelle replied. "Young Pokemon don't magically learn moves by hitting some invisible target just from being in a battle for two seconds. They learn them organically. Naturally. By making connections from something innocent and realising it can be transferred to something else. And in especially young Pokemon, they learn them through play."

As if to demonstrate her point, Ledyba made an odd buzzing sound, incensed at Dusty getting away from him again, and bodily threw himself in Dusty's general direction. It was clumsy, had no indication of any aim and sailed completely off target, but Paul sat up so quickly he nearly choked on his mouthful of water.

"That! That was Tackle! I'm sure of it!" he cried, water dripping down his chin.

The strength of his excitement surprised him and he shrunk backwards as if he was ashamed. Annabelle smiled as the game between Ledyba and Dusty continued. "Yep. I think it was."

He sought for something to say that sounded well-informed or profound but nothing came to him. Instead, he shuffled a little and asked "So where did you learn that?"

"I worked as a nursery assistant for little kids for a year and a bit," Annabelle took another mouthful of water. "This was before I was able to start Little Stars," she added. "They paid for me to do a child psychology course as part of the training. And it's amazing how raising baby Pokemon and raising babies can coincide."

"But, child psychology… That's, like, university level stuff, isn't it?"

"Sometimes," Annabelle's watchful gaze never lifted from Dusty and Ledyba as they still danced around, trying to catch each other. "I don't know. University isn't really my thing."

"Nor mine." Paul said, without thinking.

"What, you went?"

"Briefly. Got kicked out for low scores. My sisters, though… They stuck it out. One's a doctor and one's training to be a maths teacher. It's just me that's the… disappointment."

Annabelle sat perfectly still, listening to every word that tumbled from Paul's mouth. It was only after everything had spilled out, and it was far too late to take them back, that he realised he had said too much. Annabelle's face was creased with a mixture of surprise and concern at his candid response. She was about to speak when an irate buzzing from the Pokemon startled her.

Ledyba was upturned on his back, rigid and still, squeaking in terror as Dusty circled him, cackling with glee while tiny golden spores rained down. Annabelle swore, jumped to her feet and batted Dusty away, yelling "Paralysis! Why is it always paralysis with you?"

Dusty's response was to headbutt Annabelle in the shins. Despite himself, Paul laughed.

Annabelle played the part of nurse perfectly – completely ignoring the redness spreading across her own shin – and scooped the paralysed Ledyba up. From a kit she pulled out from the front of her bag, she administered some weird spray-on medicine that caused the baby Pokemon to yawn and fall asleep within barely half a minute.

"Not surprising," Annabelle cooed, rocking the Ledyba in her arms like a baby. "Paralysis isn't fun. Much less for a baby Pokemon this size. Don't worry, he'll be fine in a little while. Here, put him back in the Pokeball."

Paul tapped the slumbering Pokemon with the Pokeball and he disappeared within. He held the Pokeball in his hand just a little too long and Annabelle rested her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll get there."

"… I know."

"Come on. Let's go. I'm starving and that café does the best soup and sandwiches I've ever had in my life." She tugged on his arm to illustrate her point.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming."

While his body still ached from fatigue and his mind still clouded with envy, he felt substantially lighter as he walked, side by side, with Annabelle on the way to Route 31.

Author's Note

First off, I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER. Work got kinda mental and then my laptop had to go away for repairs literally almost as soon as I got motivation to write. I wrote most of this in a night, so I'm hoping that sort of motivation sticks around.

It is a somewhat short and uneventful chapter, mainly character development. But things should finally start going somewhere in the next chapter and I've got a lot of cool stuff planned for the foreseeable future. Some quite dark things as well - much darker than I normally tend to go in fanfiction. So I'm excited!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed (especially Anla'shok; your lovely detailed review is really what pushed me to get this chapter out), you know it always means a ton to me. I'm going to try really hard to get a couple more chapters out soon as I'm off work again until Sunday.

I'm doing a lot of beta-reading and ghostwriting for The Neverending Meep (seriously go read his stuff) so I'll be kept occupied.

Oh, and canonically, Paul is 24 and Annabelle is 25. I know, she seems so much younger.

Enough of my rambling. Thanks everyone for reading!