A/N: So… the last chapter. Thank you all for your responses, and I hope this chapter clears up any confusion and that you guys enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

Basket

Part III

love is blind, and sometimes it's easier not to see, but even without ignorance bliss can be found

Kenny

It had taken him – after four years of dating – Dawn's almost death experience to give him the courage to propose to her.

A week later, she found out she was pregnant. He was so happy. She… She was happy, too, but it took longer. She was scared, especially in the beginning, and his reassuring words didn't seem to do much. But, she pulled through, they pulled through, and now they're here, and the baby boy is red and crying, and he's holding him in his arms and he knows his life couldn't be more perfect.

The boy settles down a bit and he hands him to Dawn, who puts a hand on the baby's dark hair.

When the baby stops crying, he realizes he's crying. The baby's blue eyes look at him, unfocused, and Dawn is crying as well, and he hasn't slept for twenty-six hours, but Arceus, he's so happy.

"He's beautiful," he whispers. The boy's features are more relaxed, and he sees Dawn's softness in them. "He looks like you."

Dawn sniffles and cries harder.

Dawn insists on naming him after Paul, and even though they never spoke of it before, he agrees without a second thought.

Or maybe, shortly, one- she barely talked to him since he saved her so why- but it is quickly cut off and forgotten.

All three of their children are so precious and Kenny is sure that they're the most wonderful children to ever walk this world. Well, he's probably biased, but that doesn't make his sentiment any less true.

They all love Pokémon, and they work well with them. Yes, he knows that growing up in a Pokémon filled environment is of influence as well, but yet he'd like to think it's partly from him and Dawn anyway.

They're smart, all in their own way, but Kenny secretly thinks that his son is the smartest, though perhaps it just seems that way because he's the oldest. When they play games, Kenny doesn't lose on purpose anymore, because the boy can beat him on his own – he has a strategic mind.

He has the attitude to match, too. While his sisters are wilder, brighter, more open, the boy is more contained. Kenny knows he can grin as wide as his sisters, and can pout just as well, but he's… holding back more.

He doesn't deny that they have their faults as well. The girls are temperamental, scary in their blazing anger, just like Dawn could be, but just as Dawn they're quick to calm down and don't hold grudges. And, Kenny has to admit, they listen better to reason than his wife, even when angry – he'd like to think that to be his influence.

His son is completely different in his anger. He becomes very silent and his eyes turn ice cold, the soft features of his young face turning harsh. He doesn't yell or cry or pout, like the girls are prone to, instead he just glares and acidly bites out words. Kenny doesn't know how to handle him then, and only Dawn can manage to pull him out of his anger.

When talking about appearances, it's hard to say whom the children resemble the strongest. Their oldest daughter has Kenny's brown hair and his nose, the youngest his rounder, chubbier face, and both of them have inherited his almost black, dark brown eyes. Their skin is darker than Dawn's as well. But the blue hair of the youngest, the sparkle in both of their eyes, the softness in their faces, their bright smiles, those are all Dawn's.

Their son looks the most like Dawn. Thick dark blue hair, soft features, lips that can just as easily smile as pout if the boy ever chooses to do so– but he guesses he's being unfair. The more angular, harder lines that come out as the boy grows up are his, he thinks, and his skin tone is darker than Dawn's porcelain skin as well. And those eyes, the black eyes that are so often deep in thought-

Dark grey.

All three of them start out as Coordinators, but his son switches to competitive battling later, putting his strategic mind more to use, he tells his father.

And they're all so talented, and so determined, and so good, and Kenny is so very proud of them.

He knows he isn't just emptily boasting when he says that his daughters will be Top Coordinators and his son Champion.

Kenny can't say exactly when the pieces all fall together, but he thinks it's during their unexpected visit to his son's training. Dawn and he had been in the city per coincidence, and found out their son was at the training grounds next to the Pokémon Center.

And of course, they had gone to look.

And there they are, standing on opposite sides of the field with two Pokémon between them, almost the same height – the boy had grown past Kenny a while ago. Dawn freezes momentarily, but he doesn't notice.

Boy and man have the same intent look in their eyes, the serious lines on their faces mirroring each other. The purple is lighter than he remembers, slightly streaked with grey, and the hard lines of his face are more pronounced with age.

The Champion of Sinnoh, Dawn's savior they hadn't seen face-to-face in years, Paul, stops the younger boy in the midst of his command, then walks onto the field, all the while explaining something. His son listens seriously, but Kenny sees the admiration in his eyes.

He knows he doesn't realize it then. He waves and calls out to his son, and he turns and grins and waves at him – and Kenny doesn't notice the unusual stutter in the movement of the Champion as he gets a respectful nod from him in response.

It is only later, much later, when they're back at the hotel and Kenny is alone in the bathroom, staring at his mirrored image that everything comes together.

He breaks down and cries.

Dawn tries to talk to him. He slams the door in her face.

That night is the longest and the loneliest one he has ever faced.

Even though there's only a closed door separating him from a crying and pleading Dawn, he has never felt so far away from her. It's only when the sun has risen, his voice has gone hoarse and his tears dried up that he finally gives in and allows her to talk.

She's still crying, and she tries to touch him, but he moves away quickly.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." She keep repeating that, until he finally asks what she's sorry for.

"For betraying your trust. For lying to you for so long."

"But not for sleeping with him?" The words are bitter. "Do you really care so little for me? For our family?! How long has this been going on?!"

"No, no, that's not true." She pleads, but he's angry. He thought he'd cried all his anger out before, but apparently not. "It was only once, in the mountains, I barely even saw him after that."

He's silent.

Then, she whispers, "I regret many things, Kenny, but not… not that." His head snaps up. "I wouldn't trade our son for anything. I don't regret that."

And, just like that, he suddenly feels tired. All the anger floods out of him.

"I don't, either," he says. He rests his head in his hands. He doesn't think he has any more tears left to cry.

A realization, and he sits up, grabbing Dawn's hands with new urgency. "Was it willingly? Or did he-"

"No, no, it wasn't like that. It was… willingly. I-"

She defends him with a passion she didn't show in her apologies- He clutches to the thought, trying to raise his anger again, before deserting the half-formed malice with a heavy, sick feeling in his stomach.

He just feels empty, and Dawn sobs when he lets her go again and looks back to the floor.

"I didn't know," she cries. "I didn't know, in the beginning, that he wasn't yours."

"Why did you want to name him after him, then?" The question is a hollow murmur.

"Because he's a good man, and he saved my life." Her voice is strong now.

Kenny feels like he's being pulled apart. The dark emptiness inside him increases, fills him up-

"Then why?" He wishes that he didn't sound so broken. He doesn't know when their roles switched, when she became the sure, strong one and he the one that had fallen apart. "Why did you- Wasn't I enough for you? Was it passion? Or did you love him, then?" He looks up, to Dawn's tear-streaked face, her red puffy eyes. "Do you love him now?"

Her eyes are big, and so, so blue. Wide and fearful, he realizes, and the gap in him grows even wider.

"Don't ask me that," she whispers, begs. "Please don't ask me that."

It's another blow, and he doesn't think he could feel any worse, but he still does.

"Do you love me?" he asks, bitterly, tiredly, and fearing the answer.

"Yes." Her answer is instantaneous, and it surprises him.

"Yes?"

"Yes, yes, of- of course! Why else- of course I love you, Kenny, of course I do." She sounds almost surprised that he would think otherwise. She clutches to him, hope resounding in her voice. "I love you, Kenny, I love you."

The emptiness recedes, until there's only a small heavy chunk left in his stomach. A whirlwind of emotions suddenly return, and there's relief, a lightness among the other heavy emotions.

"Kenny, Kenny, please, I love you-"

"If…" He starts, and she falls silent immediately. "If you had to choose-"

"You," she says without hesitation, strongly. She's still holding onto him. "I… I can't explain what I feel for Paul-" He hates how he flinches at that sentence. "But now and back then and every time, I'll choose you, again and again. Please, Kenny…" She tries to pull him closer, and he lets her.

The emptiness inside of him is gone, replaced by a mass of emotions he doesn't care to dissect right now. Dawn snuggles against his neck.

"I love you, Kenny," she whispers, her face wet against him.

He hesitates, a moment, and then he puts an arm around her.

It isn't easy, but he pulls through. They pull through. The kids didn't notice anything, and if they did, they never spoke up about it.

It's weird when he sees Paul, though. The older the boy gets, the more often they see the Sinnoh Champion around. He's training with him, his son explains, beaming. Some sort of mentor.

Kenny is sure that Paul knows. He doesn't know if Dawn told him, or if he figured it out himself, but he knows that he knows.

He knows that his son doesn't know. His son. It's still his son.

He wonders why Paul hasn't told him, but he appreciates it all the same.

And so, whenever they meet and are forced to interact, their nods are stiff but respectful, their conversations stilted and short, and their pride in their son mutual.

It takes many tries for his son to become Champion of Sinnoh. His mentor doesn't make it easy for him.

The boy is no longer a boy, but a man in his mid-thirties with a wife and two children when he finally manages to win.

Kenny is still incredibly proud.

In the aftermath, with his daughter-in-law, daughters and wife crying, and his grandchildren yelling and cheering, and his son hugging everyone, Paul is there too. He's standing to the side, just watching and smiling ever so slightly.

Then there's suddenly the photographer, yelling at everyone to get ready for some pics. Paul moves away immediately, and Kenny sees how Dawn glances at the other man as she moves into position.

His son gives his mentor, his predecessor, his friend, a look, but the man shakes his head slightly in response.

They're ready for the picture. The picture with the people his son cares the most: his wife, his children, his sisters, his mother, his father-

And just like that, Kenny stops the photographer with a "Wait!"

He forces his request in a light, casual question, as to not raise unwanted inquiries. "Ey Paul, man, join us for the photo, won't ya?" He grins, but it's forced, because he feels the symbolism of the situation is too heavy to be grinning at.

Dawn hides her surprise well, but her smile is wider and she grabs his hand to give it a quick squeeze. Paul stares in response, before nodding and moving to stand next to him.

His son beams, first at him, then at Paul, and lastly at the camera.

Flashes follow, and so their family will be eternalized: the new Champion in the middle, holding his wife and children, his sisters sitting in front of him, his mother and father at one shoulder, and his mentor at the other.

Kenny and Paul stand shoulder to shoulder.

It's a hot summer day when he visits her. The large, old trees create cool shadows on the path and the moss-covered graves.

The area is devoid of any living souls, but then again, who would want to visit a graveyard on a beautiful day like this? He continues walking, until the old, abandoned graves, grey and green as they are left to nature, make place for the newer ones, with stuffed toys, candles and colorful flowers.

He looks up from the gravel path, and sees that he's not as alone as he thought. There, right at the grave he had been intending to visit, is another man. The man is standing perfectly still, staring at the white stone which Kenny knows has his wife's name engraved in it.

And the same grave which, be it in a few days or a few years, he himself will be resting as well.

And Paul won't.

Kenny continues his approach, and Paul looks up, finally noticing him. They stare at each other for a moment, dark grey meeting dark brown, and then Paul nods in silent greeting and makes to move past him.

He could've just left it at that. He could've just let him leave. He could just… be happy with what he knew and accept.

But he doesn't.

"Paul." The man has already walked past him, but he hears him stopping.

"Yes?" He has turned around, and Kenny does the same, facing him.

"Did you love her?"

"Yes." There's no hesitancy, and he meets Kenny's gaze steadily.

"Me, too." He doesn't know why he feels the need to point out the obvious, but Paul doesn't seem to find it strange.

"I know." He looks away. "She loved you."

He nods, hesitating a moment before he says, "She… loved you, too." He knows it's true, even if Dawn never said it out loud.

"I know," Paul says after a long pause. Then, turning his gaze to the white stone behind Kenny, "You were better for her. And for him."

"You don't know that."

Paul looks at him, a dark sadness in his eyes. "I will never know now. But…" The sadness disappears, calm acceptance and contentment taking its place. "This was good, too. It was… better than I expected. Than… I deserved, perhaps."

"You're a good man." Dawn said it once, and now Kenny finds himself repeating it.

Paul looks at him, dubiously, but lets it pass. "Thank you." He pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "I am… very grateful, for everything you've done for me. And for Dawn. And for him, of course."

"Of course. He's my son." The response comes easy, and when Kenny struggles with what else he wants to say, Paul takes it as the end of the conversation. He nods once more, then turns around to continue walking.

"He's your son too," Kenny says to Paul's retreating back, and the older man stops walking, but doesn't turn around.

"I am grateful to you, as well," Kenny starts, words suddenly pouring out. "Without you, he wouldn't be who he is now. If… if you hadn't been there, none of us would. And Dawn would've been at this place far too soon."

Paul turns around to face him, and Kenny finishes, a bit awkwardly, "So… thank you."

They stare at each other for a few moments.

"Do you love him?" Kenny asks, not even knowing why he asks it. He already knows the answer.

Paul smiles, then. "Of course. He's my son."

Kenny nods, then smiles, and he finds it isn't as bitter or wry as it used to be.

"Take care, Paul."

"Take care, Kenny." A half-smile, before Paul turns again and leaves.

It feels as if a weight he hadn't noticed he had been carrying along had been lifted off, and Kenny sighs deeply. He turns to Dawn's grave, opens his mouth, and then notices a fresh blue rose among the other flowers.

He smiles.

It was the last time he saw Paul. Now, it's just a body in a casket. A body and a casket that will be buried next to his wife later this day.

Kenny had insisted on that.

And, he thinks, that was when their son finally figured it out.

When their son finally asks, Kenny explains honestly, and when he finally leaves, he wonders if Dawn and Paul would've worked out in another universe, in another time, if they'd made different choices.

He decides that he will never know, and that it doesn't really matter, anyway.

There's no rewind button on real life, after all.

Their story is like a basket, he thinks as he holds the empty object in his slightly trembling hands. Then, he chuckles at his own thought. It was quite a ridiculous notion, after all. Must be the age, he decides.

The basket was a gift from their son on one of his first visits to his sickbed – it had been filled with fruit, though it was empty now.

For some reason, he found himself with the basket in his hands as he waited for his son's visit, staring at the interwoven fibers. And he realizes that perhaps there was some truth in his earlier thought, after all.

Their lives were like the fibers, taking turns and twisting, sometimes by choice, and sometimes- Sometimes they had been forced, forced to deal with other fibers' twists and turns, bending and sometimes almost breaking. But never completely, because in the end they were still whole and interwoven together, pulled tight, to form this basket.

The door opens, and their son walks in, smiling.

Kenny would like to think they'd created something more than a basket.

A/N: Thank you very much for reading! This was a wonderful experiment for me and I really enjoyed it, and I'm happy I received so much feedback from you guys! Thank you! Of course, reviews are still very appreciated and I would love to hear what you think about now that it's finished :D

Thank you!

Some extra information: A rose obviously means love, but a blue rose is something unattainable, and if you combine that with the meaning 'love', a blue rose means a desire for the unattainable. In other words: "I love you, but I can't have you." Yes, I looked this up on the internet :P