Rookie
Chapter 5.

She had woken to screams. A mixture of images swelled into her mind, and she became confused if she was dreaming these screams. They were muffled to her ears and she had trouble to pinpoint where they were. Her consciousness returned completely and she shot her eyes open, searching for what had made such a noise.

It took her a moment to remember where she was. She had no clue how long she had been sleeping in this chair, and for a second didn't understand how Barry was currently sitting upright in her own bed, shaking with fear. She couldn't see him clearly through the dim light, but saw his eyes were scrunched closed and he was hiding his face in his quilt. Small sobs broke from his throat.

Finally, Cynthia found her feet and hurried to him, subconsciously placing a hand to his forehead. He was freezing, but sweat poured from his scalp.

Suddenly he lashed out at her, and she instantly flinched. He frowned at her, long and hard before bursting into tears, covering his face with his hands. She wasn't sure if she was scared of him or the fact he was crying. It wasn't right to see Barry like this. Unused to delivering comfort, Cynthia paused and watched him for several seconds whilst he moistened the quilt with tears. He was trembling viciously, and his sobs were almost heartbreaking.

Puzzled, she removed his hands from his face before wiping away stray tears. 'Barry, it's okay. You're all right.' It then hit her what was making Barry cry. 'Nothing can hurt you here.'

Her eyes turned to a large bite across his neck. It looked red and sore, but otherwise it was healing successfully.

He gritted his teeth and ran a hand down his face aggressively. Barry looked away from her, several fresh tears falling to the mattress. A long sigh escaped his lips and he removed his hands from hers. 'S-Sorry,' he swallowed. His voice calmed. 'I was. . .' He shook his head and turned to her. A small smile crawled over his face. He was clearly embarrassed. '. . . Y'know, I don't even know what I was doing.'

'I understand,' she said as softly as possible. 'It would have never occurred to me you have nightmares.'

'I don't have nightmares,' he said, running a hand through his hair. 'This was a dumb one-off.' He glanced around the room, and turned to her. 'How did I get here? Actually, where am I?'

'You've been unconscious for almost two months, which is understandable considering the wounds you have.' She ignored his gaping expression. 'A few weeks ago the Hearthome Pokémon Centre was running out of room with patients, and with you almost recovered, I decided to take you to where I live.'

He blinked at the ceiling, frowning. It was challenging to register everything she had just said. The words he didn't want to say escaped his lips. 'You stayed with me?'

Cynthia looked a tad shocked. Her grey eyes averted away, then back at him. 'Well, someone needed to stay with you in case something happened.'

Barry nodded, feeling a little disappointed with the explanation. He would have hoped there was another reason.

'Forgive me for asking, but was your nightmare related to the events back in Hearthome?' What she wanted to say was: is it my fault?

He shrugged. 'Probably. I can't remember it much.' He was clearly lying.

A new form of anger swelled inside the former Champion. She was confused beyond belief, and hadn't realised for how long until now. What Barry had done had been stupid and reckless. She didn't understand how she could allow him to go unpunished. The damn kid wouldn't be alive if it weren't for her!

Kid? Was he really a kid?

Looking at him now, she realised he was far from a kid. He had grown tall, was a little bulky – his body had clearly matured over the years. Not to mention he had facial hair that had grown dramatically over the last two months. His face was no longer heart-shaped from what she remembered; it was angular. He was an adult – a man. She felt awkward to finally realise.

Yet, he still acted like a twelve-year-old.

'So. . . what happened to me? Who found me?'

'You owe it to your friend, Lucas. He managed to find help.'

Barry frowned. 'Lucas?. . .' He seethed. 'After what I had said to him, he still doubted me as a trainer?'

'I think it's just as well he did.' She recoiled from raising her voice. She was foreign to having a temper. 'Barry,' concern took over her voice, 'If you weren't found, you wouldn't be alive. Maybe you should think about that, before blowing steam on Lucas. Also, I would've hoped what had happened to you would have taught you a valuable lesson.'

Barry looked away from her, unsure if he was angry or guilty. 'You think little of me as well?'

'No I don't. I think you're a powerful trainer.'

A spark of warmth ignited inside him.

'But. . . Like me and everyone else, you have your flaws.'

'You have flaws?' He grinned. 'You have flaws?'

Cynthia seemed offended for a few seconds. Then a tiny smile twitched over her face. 'Are you complimenting me?'

He blushed. 'Um – Well, I guess. Seriously, do you have flaws?' He was acting as if this was a joke. She found it amusing.

'Yes.'

'Tell me them.'

'No way.'

'Oh, c'mon. I won't tell a soul.'

She chuckled heartily. Again, that small smile appeared. 'My flaw is that I don't have any flaws.' Barry pursed his lips.

'Yeah right.'

She was teasing him. Wait – Cynthia was TEASING him?

'As you're so flawless and mighty then why not teach me some of your tricks?'

'Barry, you're disabled at the moment. Give a few days, then I may do.'

'Disabled?' He removed his quilt. 'You want to bet?'

She narrowed her eyes. 'Don't bother. . .' He was on his feet before she had finished. Barry smirked and turned to her.

'You were saying?'

Cynthia slumped her shoulders. 'It's three in the morning, trooper.' She grabbed his hand and tugged him back onto the bed. 'Get some more sleep. Your wounds are still–'

'Oh pish-posh, who cares?' He exclaimed, landing heavily onto the mattress.

'. . . I care.' She stood up. 'And I'm not in the mood to carry you to a Pokémon Centre, Barry, which, for the record, is miles away.'

'Where are we?' He asked whilst she proceeded towards the door. She grabbed the handle, gave him a quick wink and left the room. Barry knew she wasn't going to tell him. She was a wrapped up wonder.

'I contacted your parents, and they're keen to see you soon.'

'Sounds beautiful,' Barry couldn't sound less caring. 'Now, are you going to show me some of your fancy tricks or what?'

She switched the kettle on. 'Let me have some coffee first, at least. I've just woken up. Plus, I think you should be less impatient. You woke me up last night, and I haven't had a decent sleep since. . . Stop pulling faces at me.'

He snorted. 'Sorry. You can rant on for ages.'

'Rant?' She laughed. 'You haven't heard me rant yet.'

Barry was told a dozen times to stop tapping his foot or drumming his fingers against the table, before she finally finished her caffeine. Grinning, he dashed out of her home and went headfirst onto the ground. He had missed the step. She calmly walked past him whilst he scrambled to his feet.

'So what have you been having trouble with?' She asked, sitting down.

Barry frowned, looking around him. The place was completely deserted. Her home was small and almost lonely, crowded with overgrown grass. What was more peculiar was that it was snowing and it was barely cold. He gave her a look. 'Where are we?'

'You're one of very few who have come here. I keep my location secret. Only those I trust the most know where I am.'

He felt immensely flattered she had allowed him to visit her secret. . . then realised she hadn't, considering he didn't even know where he was. Barry hissed between his teeth when he took hold of his Poké Ball. His back was awfully sore.

'We don't have to–'

'No, I'm fine,' he cut her off, before throwing his Ball. Out exploded Infernape, which was more than happy to see his master alive.

Barry was surprised Cynthia already had criticism to give. She sighed as if she had seen this fault so many times, and stood up. 'Return your Pokémon.'

He obeyed. She walked behind him, pushed back his shoulders, and ran a finger up his spine. He shivered. 'You need to be completely straight when releasing your Pokémon. How the Poké Ball hits the ground affects the Pokémon greatly. A lot of trainers do it the way you have just done, and it takes their Pokémon a short while to regain balance which can be a disadvantage. You need your posture to be perfect.'

'I bet Lucas did his perfectly,' Barry grumbled.

'He did actually,' she said brightly. A glint of amusement shone in her eyes when he groaned. 'Now, try again, but this time have the correct posture.'

Barry managed to do this successfully after the fourth try. The next part seemed just as unnecessary as last time: how to speak to your Pokémon clearly. Barry wondered if she was some desperate nutter. 'My Pokémon can hear me fine!'

She smiled. 'Not really. I've watched you battle, Barry. You tend to mumble your required attacks. Your Pokémon are unsure what you have stated, and consequently their attacks aren't as powerful.'

He found himself laughing at her. She was mad. 'You sure I will benefit from this?'

'Of course you will. When you have a battle against me.'

He almost choked on his saliva when she said that. For the next few hours, they continued with his improvements, until finally she decided to call it a day. Barry was exhausted by the end of it. He had no idea Pokémon battles could be so tiring when done correctly. Yet the stuff she knew was almost out-of-the-blue. Had she become a successful trainer by following these tiny bits of info?

The time was past one o' clock, and Cynthia suggested Barry meet his parents. Rather reluctant to leave her home which he had grown to like, the two used Fly to arrive at Hearthome city. Barry called his parents when they arrived.

'Dad's working. My mum completely lost it when she heard me.' He laughed, and stopped when she didn't. 'They'll take an hour to get here.'

'Oh. Let's not hang about then.'

'Hm?'

He followed her past a few houses and they arrived at a Poffin house. He frowned at her.

'Want to try and make a few? Your Pokémon will appreciate you giving them treats. For once.'

'Oi, I am nice to them, y'know?'

Both entered and were instantly invited to make their own Poffins. Barry hated the pink apron he had to wear, and scowled as he proceeded towards his mixing bowl. He rolled back his sleeves and turned to Cynthia who was standing beside him, prepared as well. 'Why couldn't they give me a blue apron?'

She looked to find males wearing blue aprons, except for Barry. She grinned. 'They probably pictured you looking more gorgeous in pink than blue.'

He gaped at her. After being passed their ingredients and given their recipe, they were informed to start. Barry exhaled in irritation and glanced at his recipe. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. This was easy!

After two minutes, he had himself a delicious smelling Poffin. He sniggered and turned to his companion who was not so successful. She looked puzzled to see his Poffin and her disgusting goo. Where had she gone wrong? Barry smiled, having to admit she did look fetching when flustered. It was great to see her defeated. By him.

'This is amazing!' A chef said, picking up Barry's Poffin. Cynthia glared at the blonde. 'Gosh, have you done this before?'

'No, first time!' Barry said joyfully, grinning at the woman beside him.

'Beautiful. Marvellous. Please make some more.'

'I certainly shall,' Barry smiled wide, and began to pour in his ingredients. He watched in amusement as the chef turned his nose up at Cynthia's work and went his way. 'Haha! Yes!'

'You don't have the patience for this!' She retorted.

'Apparently I do. My cooking is fantastic!'

She gritted her teeth. 'I wish I could say the same for your battling skills.'

'Oh, you mean my back having to be straight?' He craned back his head, nose in the air, and put on an English accent. 'Back straight, dear, we don't want your pocket monsters tripping over thin air, do we?'

Cynthia squinted her eyes at him. 'Just you wait, Barry. I'll wipe that smirk off your face soon.'

'Ooo! Feisty, aren't you?' He laughed loudly.

She scoffed and turned away, miserably dipping her spoon into her. . . substance. Barry grinned like the Cheshire Cat whilst he continued to create his second perfect Poffin. Oh how he loved irony.

When the hour had gone, Barry carried a bag full of Poffins that smelt delicious even to him. His Pokémon happily ate each one of them, and the man felt much more cheerful to watch his pocket monsters nibble their treats. Cynthia was right – they did deserve these awards. He passed her a teasing grin whilst she continued to stare straight ahead, ignoring him.

They were waiting for Palmer and his wife on a bench outside Hearthome Gym. When Barry's parents showed up, the blonde stood so fast he managed to reopen one of his wounds. He would have shrugged off the sudden concern that crowded over him, but somewhat liked to watch Cynthia fuss over him.

'I've been working myself too hard, you see,' Barry said dramatically to his mother. 'I've been making Poffins. A lot of hard work. But I was told they were perfect, wasn't I, Cynthia?' He gave her a smile. She forced one back.

'He was great.' Her voice sounded pained.

'Barry,' Palmer said after twenty minutes had gone. 'You know, I'm quite pissed off you went and did something so reckless.'

'You would have done it yourself.' Barry said.

Palmer watched him for a moment. Then the two males slapped hands. 'Too right I would have! When I heard what had happened to you, I was–'

'Palmer!'

The father buckled down from his wife's exclaim. '. . . Mad. Yes, I was very angry when you almost got yourself killed.'

Barry's face fell, but he knew Palmer was anything but. He wanted his son to be a reckless hero, like him. Cynthia was smiling behind her hand, whereas Barry's mother was fuming. 'It's been twenty tears, and I'm still wondering why I married you.'

Palmer gave her a bewildered expression. 'Isn't it obvious why? You loved the fact I was so dumb and idiotic. Like Barry. Mind, most women loved me.'

'That's not true. They found you annoying. I was one of few who actually didn't mind you.'

Palmer opened his mouth to retort, then realised she had a fair point. 'I was quick and speedy when I was Barry's age – more so than I am now. You slowed me down,' he wrapped his arms around his partner. 'Goddamn you.'

'O-kay, would you mind leaving the lovely dovey crap for later? Preferably when I'm not around,' Barry said, standing to his feet and looking down at his parents as if disciplining them.

'You're just jealous,' Palmer whispered.

If he wasn't one of his best friends and his father, Barry would have kicked him. His seniors left after an hour, and whilst Barry reluctantly hugged his mother good bye, Palmer turned to Cynthia.

'Cheers for what you did. . . You still in disguise?' He wriggled his eyebrows.

'Attempting to.'

He clicked his tongue. 'Don't worry. My wife hasn't recognised you yet, and she remembers celebrities' faces so well it's disturbing.'

Cynthia smiled at him warmly and watched the two parents proceed their way back to the train station. Barry turned to her. 'I, um. . . think I should book myself a hotel room or something.'

'It's okay. I have a spare room at mine.' Cynthia stopped, hoping to Arceus she did. 'It's evening. You hungry?'

'Yes. You paying?'

'No. You are.'

The restaurant she had taken him to was incredibly posh. Barry's lower jaw fell to the ground as soon as he entered. A waiter came over and took them over to a table for two, before leaving them with menus. Barry drifted his eyes around him and put his nose in the air. Cynthia furrowed her eyebrows.

'What are you doing?'

'Trying to fit in, my dear lady.' He said, his English accent a little too strong.

She rolled her eyes. 'You're perfect as you are, Barry.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'You think so?'

Cynthia didn't reply and began to read her menu. Barry turned to his. He widened his eyes.

'What fucking language is this?'

'Barry, I appreciate I told you to be yourself, but tone down your use of vocabulary.'

'Sorry.' He lowered his voice. 'Do name the language in this menu, dearest.'

'We're in an Italian restaurant. Did you not notice?'

He slowly looked at the food on every customer's table and sniggered sheepishly. Everyone seemed to be eating pasta, lasagne or pizza. There were the odd few dishes Barry had never seen before in his life.

'I'll have a pizza.'

'What kind?'

'Kind?'

She lowered her menu. 'Topping, Barry.'

'Eh?'

Cynthia sighed, giving in. 'Pepperoni then.'

'Okay. Sounds good.'

'Drink?'

'A cider would be nice.'

Cynthia groaned. 'They don't sell cider.'

'. . . Orange juice?'

She smiled pleasantly. 'That's better.'

Their waiter arrived and each ordered their dish. Barry looked at her twice when she stated hers. 'Was that a different dialect?'

'You're so witty.'

'I get it from my old man.'

Cynthia met his gaze. 'I know.' There was a softness in her tone. 'I like it.'

'Really?' Inside he was screaming, but he did well to cover up his nerves. 'I thought I was driving you mad.'

'Not at all. You're funny.'

'Th-Thanks. No one's said I'm funny before,' Barry smiled timidly and looked away. 'Just wondering. . .' he turned to her again, '. . . where do you live?'

'Nowhere out of the ordinary.'

'Cynthia, it was snowing.'

'I may have been up North then. . . maybe not. . .'

Barry was beginning to feel clammy. She was speaking to him differently. Her teasing was still evident, but there was something else. Something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Whatever it was, he was deeply attracted to it and wanted more. She wasn't speaking to him professionally. This was on a different level. He eased his shoulders and decided to join in with her little game. . . whatever the heck it was.

'Oh, so you live in the South then?'

'It snows in the South?' She inquired, leaning forwards. 'I never knew.'

'Mostly in winter. However it's not winter anymore, so you can't possibly be living in the South.'

'I can make it snow.'

Barry snorted. 'Are you Santa Claus in disguise?'

'. . . Last time I checked, no. Does Santa Claus make places snow?'

He realised how dumb this conversation was. He was talking to Cynthia about an obese man who didn't even exist! It was a lovely feeling though. They were just kidding around. Being stupid. He missed being stupid, and had a hunch she did as well.

'Well, from the books I read, he did.'

She widened her eyes. 'You read books?'

'Used to read books. Don't get your hopes up. I'm not reading any of your nerdy philosophy crap on how mythical Pokémon ate fruit or something like that–'

'What kind of myths have you been reading?'

Her eyes had a sparkle in them. Barry stared at her for a few seconds, admiring how beautiful such a dull colour could be. He had never appreciated the colour of eyes. Some magazines liked to make a fuss about her eye colour when he was young, but he had never seen the big deal of it. Sitting here, watching her, he now understood perfectly. Her eyes were an unusual colour, but wonderful all the same.

Barry recoiled. Wow. They were just eyes, goddammit.

Cynthia moved away from him, and his heart fell. She had noticed he had been staring at her for a considerable amount of time. He frowned. Great. She probably thought he was a freak now. Just another crazed fan.

He wasn't though. He really wasn't.

They only started speaking again when their dinner arrived. When the smell of pizza hit him, Barry realised how hungry he was. He instantly dug in, slapping cheese over his cheeks and creating a mess over the table. Arceus, this tasted good. He was finished in five minutes. Barry looked up to see Cynthia watching him, mouth slightly agape, her first fork of food still in her hand.

'I was hungry.'

'You could've fooled me,' she grinned a little.

'By the way, you never told me what's been going on for the past two months.'

'It's been sorted.'

He widened his eyes. 'What? All of it?'

'That's right. Thanks to that man we met the other day, we have been able to arrest everyone who was part of the group. It was easy. . . apparently.'

'You weren't involved?'

'I didn't want to be. The police would figure me out soon enough, and. . .' she trailed off, returning to her food.

'And. . .?'

She shrugged. 'I had to be with you.'

He smiled. 'You didn't have to be.'

'Yeah I did. Your parents were worried about you, so I requested to watch over you whilst they worked.'

'Thanks. You did a good job.'

Her eyes trailed to his reopened wound. 'Clearly.'

It was almost eleven in the evening when they exited the restaurant. The weather had grown nippy over the hours and the two pulled on their jackets, before proceeding onwards. Barry intended to ask if they should return to hers, but decided not to, appreciating the fact Hearthome did look lovely under the street lamps.

He hurried to walk beside her.

'I don't want to go to that route we went in the other day.'

'Of course we won't,' she said. 'The city is much nicer.'

Barry silently agreed. The place was deserted, except for a few townspeople walking past. He began to grow impatient with the pace they were walking, but said nothing, not wanting her to ditch him. However he couldn't imagine Cynthia doing that. In fact, he wasn't sure what to imagine of her. She was hard to figure out.

Maybe that was why he liked her. She was this wonder woman, and he would love to meet the one person who knew her inside and out. . . if that person even existed.

'Am I going too slow for you?'

'No!' He said abruptly. 'We're going at a fine pace.'

Cynthia gave him a blunt look.

'Okay, this pace is driving me mad.'

'Live with it,' she said, smiling. 'You'll end up dying alone if you don't have patience for anyone.'

'I love it when you're cheerful.'

'I'm serious actually.' She stopped. He turned to her. 'You need to slow down, Barry. Stop and think about the consequences of what actions you're making. I know it's hard, but I managed to deal with it.'

He blinked. 'You were like me?'

'Only for a while. However, unlike you, it hit me quickly that I need to slow down. Thinking made me become what I am. . . or was. Barry, you can become a Champion easily. You just need to slow down. Your Pokémon can't keep up with you. They're only small little things.'

'Cynthia, that Garchomp is bigger than you.'

'Still: they're alive. They aren't capable of everything.'

He looked away, the guilt sweeping in. 'Sorry for being so reckless. Thanks for saving me, too. I appreciate it.'

'It's fine.'

'No, I mean I realise I haven't thanked you properly–'

'Barry, it's fine. Really.'

He didn't feel like it was though. He clenched his fists and released a heavy sigh. Barry looked away from her timidly when she walked towards him. Her hand grazed over his cheek.

'You need a shave – big time.'

Barry snorted and laughed. 'I kinda like it. It makes me look professional.'

She smiled. His heart raced when her face neared his, and a shot of warmth electrified his body. He found it hard to breathe when her voice tickled his nose. 'You look better without it.' She kissed him tenderly. '. . . All I felt was fuzz.'

He couldn't speak. His mind had gone blank.

'Umm. . .' She placed a finger over his lips.

'You can be quiet now.'

'Oh.' Her eyes covered his view before he closed his own.

Lucas read the letter four times, before finally putting it down onto the table. He stared at the wall for a few seconds, registering everything that piece of paper had written over it. When it finally hit home, he snarled and scrunched it up. He paused, sighed, and reopened the letter again, flattening it against the table.

This may be unfair, but it couldn't be avoided. Barry had got himself into this situation, and he needed to end it. Even if it meant his life would be ruined. Lucas ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. If Cynthia intended to stay by his side, it wouldn't be long until her identity was discovered.

They wanted Barry in court for attacking a human being with his Pokemon. Lucas liked to believe Barry would be proved innocent quickly, but these bastards with wigs loved to escort people to prison for even the slightest of crime committed.

He read the letter once more.

Lucas needed to call his friend. Pronto.