Daniel tore his eyes away from the xatu that stood silently before the mausoleum and looked back to Johannes, Viola, Ana, Jean and Charles. The cool breeze that blew through the cemetery kept the sun bearing down on them from becoming too hot. He looked around at the sea of gravestones and mausoleums that rose out of the earth around him.
Ricard had handled his possible death with the same attention to detail as he did his accounts. Daniel had found two separate hand-written files detailing procedures for, as his late friend put it, "Savoury" and "Unsavoury" deaths. Daniel smiled in spite of himself. Wasn't that just like the bastard. Lousiest series of phone calls I've ever made in my life. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head all the while.
What the procedures also accounted for, however, left Daniel with questions as to just how many connections Ricard had hidden from him. A considerable sum of money (after fees and bribes) alongside all of Ricard's personal effects came under possession of one Ana Prevost. Accounted even for that. Ignace Coquin was an alias - Daniel had never officially changed his name, and had made it clear on several accounts that he was uninterested in having anything associated with him that might get Kalosian bureaucrats to dig into his assumed name or his actual name.
He shifted his gaze to the ground between them all and muttered, "That's that. Thank you for being here, you two." He looked at Johannes and then Viola. "I realize you need to get going, so...thanks." He stepped forward and offered Johannes his hand.
The researcher took it and nodded. "Sorry to cut and run just a few days after, but they stopped my vacation short to brief me on something they want done in another region. Wouldn't say where, 'cos I apparently need to be present to sign off on some paperwork." Johannes let go of his hand and moved to shake Charles, Jean's and Ana's hands, while Viola moved forward to hug Daniel.
"I should apologize," she said, the tone in his head meek and grateful. "I doubted your abilities and allowed worry to consume me. Until the very end when my form failed me and I began to slip out of consciousness, I still held that worry in my heart. And you kept fighting." She turned to look at Johannes and then looked back at the detective. "Thank you. You kept us safe."
Daniel sighed. "Yeah, of course. 'Least I could do really. You both…" He paused, and thought over his words. It didn't matter that he'd lied to them about their possible connection. In all likelihood, there was no way they had been "marked" by the dusknoir. Yet, he had worked to keep them safe as he could, and they had proved themselves invaluable. "You both were a huge help. Thanks."
"What do you plan on doing?" asked Johannes.
"I've got some shit to get sorted." He glanced over his shoulder at d'Artagnan and shook his head. "A lot of shit to get sorted."
"D-don't swear in cem-metaries," stuttered Ana in admonishment.
"Sorry. I'll keep in touch, Jo. Could always use someone to rope into my terrible choices." Johannes managed a small smile. "Any idea what the work is?"
The researcher shrugged. "Pretty theoretical stuff is my guess. Not too sure, they wouldn't even tell me the region. Still, might take advantage and tell them a little bit about...what was his name? Agilrad?"
Daniel nodded, but looked uneasy. "Aegislash don't often possess bodies and do crazy hex magic bullshit," he said. Ana cleared her throat pointedly and Daniel mouthed an apology to her.
Johannes slumped. "I'd probably just get laughed away without much proof. I'll just do some digging at the Research Center before I leave for wherever it is they're sending me."
"Do you want all the books on behaviors that Ricard left me?" asked Daniel, suddenly struck by the thought.
The researcher's eyes widened and he nodded with enthusiasm. "That'd be great! I can do a whole lot with those report compilations in my spare time." He grinned, sheepish. "Even if most of what I'd be doing is just reading them before bed."
"You- you read those before...bed?" asked Daniel.
Johannes did not answer, but instead pointed past the group where d'Artagnan stood. The xatu had turned around and gazed out at them all. "I have given it thought, Daniel," he called to them. He approached the group and stopped a few feet away, his back rigid. "Per the directive of Ricard's late wishes, I have come to the decision he left me with before his departure from the world of the living. I name you: trainer." He inclined his head and let out a long, low note of sorrow. "Let us be on our way. I've all I need of Ricard with me now." At this, he glanced down at the charm pouch around his neck that Ana had made for him. It bore a small pinch of Ricard's ashes and a wooden charm that Daniel had, at d'Artagnan's request, whittled the details of an Illumis traditional coin into.
"You gonna be alright, d'Artagnan?" asked Johannes.
The xatu did not respond.
The awkward silence stretched out for a full minute before Johannes said, "We should be going. Our flight out is tonight and we haven't finished packing quite yet. So...thank you." He looked at everyone in turn. "All of you. I'm glad we were able to help in what little ways we could."
"Please rest," added Viola, her eyes betraying a newfound worry, specifically at Daniel and d'Artagnan. "You all desperately need it." She stopped when she turned her gaze to Charles and she frowned. She gave him an awkward hug, the both of them overcompensating for the blades jutting out of the bisharp's chest. When she pulled away, she said something quietly to him that Daniel could not understand. Charles looked away at her statement and shrugged, mumbling something indistinct and then nodding once.
Viola and Johannes waved goodbye to the group and departed.
"Could have answered them, d'Artagnan," said Daniel, watching their retreating backs.
"I do not have the Sight to See the answer to that question, Daniel."
"When we've got everything sorted we'll see to making that question easier to answer," he replied.
"Everything sorted? I was not aware that we had left something unsorted, Daniel. Ricard's instructions and arrangements were complete."
"Not quite. One of Ricard's cleaners gave me a very interesting phone call. Sent out his little party of "janitors" to clear out the king's chamber. Place is older than dirt, and the throne, the sarcophagus and that weird panel Jo was talking about caught the eye of one of the more history-crazed men. Turns out, that place is some hot shit to history buffs. As if that crystal I recovered wasn't bad news enough. But I know for a fact that I don't want to know what or who the hell that King was."
"It is imperative we investigate, Daniel. It is what Ricard would have wanted," replied d'Artagnan.
"Then I'll keep an open line of communication with this guy, but we're leaving Lumiose. I'm not letting Ana stick around here any longer and I could use a break-"
"Mr. Winters," said a curt voice from behind.
Daniel froze and looked over his shoulder. A man dressed in a tweed overcoat stared back. Shit. His hand slowly made for the pistol he had holstered underneath his jacket. "I think you've got the wrong guy," replied Daniel casually, "Name's Igna-"
The man had his pistol out in an instant. "Hands where I can see them, now."
Daniel's hand froze. "You're outnumbered, you know-"
The man whistled, and three men dressed in plain clothes that Daniel had taken to be visitors or mourners at other gravesites spun about, drawing pistols and leveling them at the entire group. "No I'm not. Hands where I can see them. All of you."
"Listen to him," mumbled Daniel, turning around to face, his own hands raised.
"Your name is Daniel Winters, not Ignace Coquin. Grimaud arranged for a note to be delivered to me. It contained your name, Ms. Prevost's name, and even Mr. and Mrs. Talburn's names. A considerable list of your achievements - and your past - was also contained on the note. Along with instructions to burn it. Another favor Ricard wanted. And the bastard had to go and die so I couldn't turn it down for fear of having the spirits themselves judge me," explained the man. He cleared his throat. "Pierre Rousseau. LPD. I'm here to have a chat with you about favors and a dead man's switch."
He raised a hand in the air, his index finger pointing straight up, and drew circles. The men closed in, their pistols lowered but their expressions still hard. "My men will keep them safe while we speak. Privately. As a show of good faith, I will not disarm you. But keep it stowed, do you understand?"
Daniel looked back at the others and grumbled, "Sure, what choice do I fuckin' have?"
"That's the spirit," replied Pierre, smiling. He holstered his own pistol, to Daniel's surprise, and gestured towards the mausoleum where Ricard's urn sat. "I think I will explain while I pay respects to an old pain in my ass. Shall we?" He swept Daniel forward and the two walked up to the mauseoleum. Pierre stopped for a moment to scan the shelves and then placed a hand on Ricard's urn once he'd found it. "Repose en paix mon ami." He was silent for a short while and then he removed his hand. He rested the hand on his pistol and began to dig around in his overcoat with other.
Daniel noticed his stance was relaxed. Pierre's hand sat on his pistol as an almost lazy reminder to not mess with him. He was either very good at faking or actually relaxed. "Here, look at these photos. You can ignore the text for now," he said at last, tugging a small manila envelope free from a pocket.
He did so, opening the folder and pulling out a small sheet of paper bearing a set of typed paragraphs and a paperclipped pair of photos. He nearly dropped the packet when he checked the face on the first photo. "Hideo? Hideo Tanaka? He's...he's alive?" he asked, turning to look at Pierre.
"Yes. Quite alive. He contacted his brother, a member of my department by the name of Akihiro, in a state of hysterics. Mentioned something about inter-regional crises, needing to get out of the region, and begged him to get him police protections of some kind to do so. Offered a lot of money for it. Poor bastard doesn't know how law works." He cleared his throat and then continued, "Akihiro wants to help him out. They've been estranged for over a decade now, and he's told himself that if his brother wants to give up the underlings he's earned, the nice house and easy women, it's because something bad is happening or is about to.
"What that is, however, I do not know. And I can't spare anyone to do this. Akihiro has a job to do. He's a straight-laced man with a sense of familial obligation. And he'll be eaten alive by Morrissey's gang." He reached over and tugged Hideo's picture free from the paperclip, revealing a handsome man's face. His bright green eyes and mess of ginger hair stared back at Daniel with malice only he could see.
"This fucker is still at it, huh?" he grumbled.
"Yes. He's dancing atop his tower in Unova as the gangs of the city burn to the ground around him. And pretty soon he'll be riding a freefall collapse himself," supplied Pierre.
"Why are you-"
"Ricard was a man of conviction," said Pierre, cutting across Daniel. "He toed the line of law and lawlessness in the way only accountants can." He paused and smiled. "Well, that's wrong. That would be stockbrokers. Either way, he had his contacts. You know this. I know this. I couldn't be his only point of contact in the legal side of Illumis. And I'll never know who the rest were. You'll never know who the rest were. He took contacts with him to the grave.
"Good. Man had his affairs in order. Knew what he wanted to do and balanced it with what he had to do. Put me in uncomfortable positions because I had to bend rules myself, but it was always in service of his convictions. Convictions I knew were good. He'd helped me before. It was only fair. Granted, he drove a hard bargain on what constituted fair repayment, and it definitely grated on me, but in the end, I knew his intentions were good. Stories of pokemon stolen away from brothels or saved from drug labs that then mysteriously burned to the ground - he was doing good in the way I could only dream of.
"And then he mentioned someone to me. During the last phone call I ever had with him, he mentioned his associate. Not by name. By that title. Associate. And here he stands. Some associate indeed. Former gangster turned detective, seeking to do some good in the world." Pierre chuckled and patted the urn fondly. "Crazy bastard." He turned away and looked out at the cemetery. "Flip that page over."
Daniel did so; typed on the back of the paper was his name, Ana's name - everything. "This is the note," he whispered.
"That is exactly the note. You can burn it yourself. But if you do, I recommend you take note of the information that's written on the front. A meeting place, a phone number and a set of passphrases and code names. Just in case, you know? I can't push favors onto you, Daniel. Not the favors owed by a dead man." Pierre started down the steps of the mausoleum and then stopped. "But I believe in gratitude. Conviction. Justice. Tit-for-tat. I believe in protecting home and hearth. Much like Ricard did, really. Couldn't bear to see home turn into what it's become. Fought back against it. Just like you did, no?"
"Unova isn't my home," said Daniel, his tone flat.
"No, no, I'm sure it's not. It'd be here, I'm sure. Illumis. One bag of merde for another." Pierre raised a hand in farewell.
Daniel watched the man gesture to the other officers and walk away. He stopped and turned to face Daniel before he got out of earshot and called out, "We all get a little homesick sometimes, Daniel." Pierre and his men walked away.
The others approached Daniel. Ana in particular looked concerned. "W-what was that c-conversation a-about, Daniel?" she asked.
Daniel mulled over Pierre's words and scanned over the text on the note the officer had left him with, then shook his head. "Ana," he said at last, "we've got some packing to do."
"A-are we m-moving?" she asked, her eyes wide. On her shoulder, Jean's eyes widened as well and she leaned in.
"You are, at least. You and Jean. Somewhere safe, while Charles and I take care of something in Unova." Ana opened her mouth, fear alive in her welling eyes, and he added, "No buts. No. I almost lost you twice now. I'm not doing that again. You've done more than enough. More than...more than you should have. More than I should have asked. I almost got you killed, Ana. Or worse." He lowered his gaze and pulled her into a tight embrace. "I'm not doing that again. You're headed off to somewhere remote, where you can't be traced."
Tears streamed from Ana's eyes and she shook her head into his chest, sobbing and clutching at his back. "D-Daniel, p-p-please, no. N-not again. I-I-I just got you b-back."
Daniel closed his eyes and reached up to wipe them. "It won't be today, Ana. We've got to get all our stuff collected and moved to the house we had you in, and I have to get everything coordinated from there anyway. Have to find you an apartment or something in…um…"
"Alola. After a lifetime in the dark, standing among the spirits of the departed, it would do Ana well to have her time in the sun," provided d'Artagnan. "Perhaps this too will allow me to answer Johannes' question, Daniel. I will accompany her."
"Alright. Alola it is. But not right now," he replied. He lifted Ana's chin and kissed her forehead. His thoughts drifted to the timeline the note laid out. Dates flew through his head, and he felt his stomach turn as he thought of all the coordination and planning he'd have to do. He shook it from his mind. "Not right now." he said again.
Charles turned his gaze from them and down to the leather necklace he'd taken from Karan. The bisharp rubbed his thumb across the thicker portion that formed a sort of leather pendant and was stained with blood, and stared at it with a faraway look in his eyes. "Not right now." He clenched his fist around the necklace and closed his eyes.
"When?"