Tracing Origins

A/N: Special thanks to The Original Brown Squirrel. Good gracious, you responded so quickly! Haha, thank you for the review! I hope I don't disapppoint.

Chapter Two: Homecoming

Steven drifted back to consciousness to the sound of a soft, worried voice beside his ear. He wasn't sure what was happening or why there was a muted ringing in his head. His limbs felt as if they'd been encased in heavy cement. In fact, his entire body felt heavy, and it was an uphill battle to even force his eyes open.

Of all the things his sluggish mind had expected, finding himself in the arms of a woman dressed in the same uniform of the very grunts he'd just been running from was last on the list. She wasn't paying him any attention, though. Her face was tense, pinched with worry as she gazed somewhere he didn't have the strength to lift his head to see.

"Damn it," the dark-haired woman muttered. He winced as her none too gentle grip on him upset the gaping hole in his side. His groan made her head snap around to look to look at him. Under the dark Team Rocket cap, he found a pair of pale green eyes, wide and surprised, fixed on him. There was a kindness in her voice that he didn't expect to hear from a grunt, "Oh god. Hold on, okay? I'm gonna' get you out of here."

Steven's head lolled back limply. He regarded her with a wary, exhausted look, in pain but still coherent enough to know that this wasn't right. "Who…why are you…"

His words were lost as the world shook violently. The thundering rumble of an explosion trembled through the earth and scattered terrified Pokemon from the trees surrounding them. The woman tightened her hold on him again and lurched away, screaming for someone over her shoulder to 'COME ON!' as Steven gasped in agony at her fingers digging unintentionally into his wound.

A jolt of adrenaline, urged by his pain, shot through him, and he weakly tried to dislodge her fingers. His vision was flashing in alarming hazes of red, and the pulsating waves of fire that came from the wound made him wheeze and splutter for her to let go.

"Stop it! We need to get out of here!" She snapped and suddenly veered, throwing them both to the ground as a beam of hot red blasted over them, incinerating everything in its path. She had been kind enough to throw him down on his uninjured side but the impacted jarred his entire body. The agony blossomed anew. His tortured groan was lost in the calamity of falling, burning trees.

"Gen-gar."

Steven cracked his eyes open a sliver while he continued to pant in response to the waves of pain. Standing beside his head was the same Pokemon that had saved him. Only the mischievous leer on its face was now a tense look in the woman's direction—presumably its trainer.

"Gengar. Gennn garr…" it rasped.

"Yeah, I got that," the woman sighed and pushed herself up into a crouch. "How many?"

Its reply was lost on Steven, for a sharp, joyful cry zipped through the fog of pain in his head like a welcome beam of sunshine.

"Aron!" Aron cried and hurried over to him when it saw that he was awake. Steven turned his head to seek out his Pokemon.

"Aron…you're okay…" He breathed, feeling drained. The pain had begun to lessen in agonizingly slow increments, leaving him exhausted and out of breath. His eyes were watering as he gave Aron a weak smile.

"Aron…" Aron chided and nuzzled him under his chin affectionately. The Metal-type then sniffed worriedly at his wound and threw him an anxious look, "Arrr-on?"

He was asking him if he was okay. The Pokemon knew him well and knew by his sluggish responses that the wound was far worse than Steven would let on. Not that he was trying to fool anyone into thinking otherwise. He simply didn't have the strength.

The exchange hadn't been lost on the woman. She eyed him carefully, assessing his condition. Then she informed him tartly, "They're gaining on us. If we don't keep moving, we don't have a chance. If we can make it to west coast by sun down, we can hijack one of the boats and use the darkness for cover…"

She was silently asking him to hold on for just a bit longer. He appreciated that she wasn't even attempting to hide how dire a situation they were in. His thoughts were becoming foggy from the blood loss, and he didn't like it.

Steven squeezed his eyes shut and took several deep breaths to calm himself, the constant ache in his side becoming slightly more bearable, "Then…we should get going."

Wallace was welcomed home by a warm gust of salty air against his face. His eyes drifted closed, and he emitted a low hum of pleasure, making sure to take a deep breath of the tropical atmosphere. It was a refreshing change from the coldness that permeated the Elite Four's tower in Ever Grande City.

It's nice to be home. Wallace thought. He opened his eyes to a chorus of cheering that filled the partially enclosed chamber of Sootopolis City. Streamers of all colors were hung along the buildings. People were jam-packed in the streets and walkways, eagerly leaning over the railings waving and joyously calling his name. Children were cascading confetti and flower petals from the homes that hung over the water. A short distance from the dock was a scattering of floats in the water, which contained people and Pokemon making music on various instruments.

It was a hero's welcome home. It was Sootopolis City's way of reminding the world how proud they were to have bred amongst them the Hoenn Elite Four Chamption. It was all for him.

I'll never get used to this. Wallace thought, cheeks a touch pink, as he waved in reply. As if they heard his thoughts, he could feel the amusement vibrating in the Poke Balls lining his belt. Ah, let us not forget the real stars…

"Your welcome fills this humble soul with warmth, my dear people! But allow me to bring out the true heroes of our tale! My flowers of the Sea…emerge!" He announced and threw all six of the Poke Balls at once.

The boisterous cheers increased in volume. Excitement electrified the air as Wallace's faithful team of Water Pokemon appeared in a brilliant flash of light. Wallace smiled serenely down on them, a deep sense of awe rising in his chest like it always did whenever he witnessed the majesty of his Pokemon.

Wailord eagerly made a beeline towards the harbor. His impressive size combined with his dark navy colored hide was a sight to behold. He eased along side the underwater ferry that Wallace stood on the deck of, eyeing him happily. Then he let out a deep, brassy keen to greet the denizens of Sootopolis.

Behind him was Whiscash. The clever--if somewhat silly--Pokemon's charming awkwardness made him a hit among those who laid eyes on him. Wallace too was swept up by the Pokemon's unexpected charisma and often found himself laughing whenever Whiscash purposely did strange things in order to shock people or his opponents. Even now he was entertaining: swooping in graceful loops through the water as he beamed at the crowd.

Next to him was Ludicolo, who slid through the water smoothly, using only his stubby legs to propel him. He was happily waving and blowing kisses back to the people. The green sombrero-like top of his head combined with his chubby yellow body made for a funny sight but there was no mistaking the power the grass and water-type commanded. He and Whiscash basked in the attention they received with little shame.

Following to the left of the ferry was the more sedated trek of Tentacruel. The large jelly-fish like Pokemon slid so effortlessly through the water that it was nothing short of watching a hot knife slice through butter. He ignored the cheers and calls of the crowd completely, his sharp eyes fixed on the harbor and food. The large red jewel-like knobs on his head seemed to glow in the sunlight, and his thick tentacles trailed after him like snakes.

Moving to the other side of the ferry was the team's other reclusive member: Gyarados. The blue serpentine-like Dragon-type was shyer than his fierce appearance would lead others to believe. While he was a terrible force to be reckoned with in battle, Wallace knew firsthand how his Gyarados often shied away from the limelight. One of his challenges as a young trainer had been to help a shy Magikarp to overcome stage fright. Now, Wallace only smiled fondly as he watched that same Pokemon--in his much more ferocious shell--as he cast a timid glance to all the faces adoringly fixed on him.

Last but not least was the heart of Wallace's line up. Wallace's breath hitched at the breath-taking sight of the Pokemon that swam right in front of the ferry. Milotic, one of the rarest and most precious treasures of the Sea. Milotic…his kindred spirit. The sleek Water-type was the paradigm of elegance as he proudly led the ferry and fellow Pokemon to shore like a king would his court after a long march home. Even those in attendance felt the presence—the radiance—of the Pokemon and watched him in complete and utter wonder.

Wallace lifted his eyes from his beloved six. A figure patiently stood on the harbor. His presence was a commanding one, only accentuated more by the crisp decorated blue overcoat and dark purple suit beneath it. Wallace felt himself instinctively straightening up at the sight of his old mentor, the Sootopolis Gym Leader Juan.

"Welcome home, Wallace! It has been a long time," Juan greeted with an elegant bow, an arm folding across his abdomen and the other behind his back.

"Too long, my Master," Wallace answered, returning the bow the moment his feet left the ferry and hit the harbor.

When they straightened, the pride in Juan's gaze filled Wallace with warmth. Even now, years after becoming his own man and a great trainer in his own right, Wallace still found a deep sense of accomplishment in impressing his teacher. The man's brilliance, talent, and sophistication had been what he'd sought his entire childhood as he studied to be worthy of even calling himself a student of the great Juan, the Master of Illusions.

Juan greeted his Pokemon properly. Then he beckoned for Wallace to walk with him. "I admit. It was a pleasant surprise to hear from you, my student. And especially that you would be returning to your home during your next free interval! So even the Elites must rest…"

Wallace chuckled at the ribbing, "We've a few months in between this cycle of challengers until the next, after the next Hoenn Conference. I thought it best to spend it reacquainting myself with my origins."

At this, Juan cocked an impish eyebrow at him, "Ah, and this would have nothing to do with the fact that the illustrious Devon Corporation president and his son are on another excavation?"

"Oh? That is news to me. I'll have to pass along a word of good luck to them," Wallace smoothly replied, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Juan let out a low chortle, shaking his head. Wallace glanced to the Gym that sat isolated on its own island near the center of the crater of water in Sootopolis.

"None of that now, Wallace," Juan chided, making Wallace give him a curious look. His former teacher merely smiled and gestured to all the eager faces still on him and the festive surroundings. "This party is your homecoming. What gentleman would dare to refuse hospitality when it is so graciously given? Come, my dear student, let us celebrate your return the proper way!"

Not for the first time, Cyrus Kendall wondered what in the hell had possessed him to follow the path that he had. He'd grown up in a small town in Kanto, had attended and graduated from one of the top Academies in the region, and had gone on to become a fantastic Pokemon trainer who'd even made it as far as sixth place in the Silver Conference and Fourth in a minor League in Johto. With such accomplishments under his belt, he could have gone on to do whatever he wanted.

"So tell me again, why I'm on communications duty?" He whined and slumped back into the cheap pleather back of his chair.

His legs were outstretched and crossed at the ankles on the wide computer console in front of him. An array of monitors spanned the length of an entire wall, each containing a different scene from various places around the world. With the flick of a few switches and the press of certain buttons, he could tap into a staggering number of audio networks that would transmit all sorts of juicy information through the headphones currently resting on his neck. He merely, however, dangled his hand down and scratched the soft fur behind his faithful companion's ear, letting out a gaping yawn.

"Groww…" came the bored snuffle at the foot of the chair. Seagram was a male Growlithe that was happiest when he was outside. Whether it was sniffing out impossible trails left behind by fleeing criminals or the brutal thrill of combat or just relaxing in the fresh air, Seagram didn't care as long as he wasn't cooped up inside…like he was now.

"Sorry, pal. I know you hate this even more than I do," Kendall apologized, offering his partner a small, lop-sided smile. Seagram just let out a sigh and continued to stare absently at the cold, metallic gray wall underneath the control console.

I'd better just leave him alone. Kendall thought and threaded his fingers together behind his head, leaning back into his seat. He gazed absently at the wall of monitors, not really seeing any of them as his mind drifted into daydreams. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was pulled out of a most comfortable fantasy about that cute girl in Research and Development. Seagram had suddenly jumped to his feet and made an alarmed noise.

Kendall nearly fell out of his char. He glanced at the Growlithe, "Seagram? What is it? What…"

He trailed off when he realized that something was beeping.

His eyes automatically went to the assortment of monitors. He frantically scanned each, jabbing at certain keys on the keyboard to find the source of the beeping. This wasn't his field of expertise but if there was one thing he knew, it was that beeping was never good.

Seagram leapt up so that his front paws rested on the console. His sharp eyes roved over the monitors along with Kendall's. Kendall rapidly searched for the source of the noise. It may be nothing…or something big. He suspected the latter since in his line of business, trouble was not scarce.

"Ah, I think I've got it," He said and typed in the command to bring up Monitor X43. The screen seemed to shoot right out of the monitor and enlarge before their eyes into a holographic projection. It took Kendall only a second to realize that they were staring at the obscure, curved green lines of a map of some unknown place. There were a few marks of interest made on the map but near the left edge was where Kendall's eyes were drawn. There was a large red dot fixed there, blinking brightly and calmly though the beeping that had alerted them to take a look was a clear call of alarm.

Kendall felt his hear sink as he saw the small notation that accentuated the dot:

D2 S7 F.N. Signal lost at 4:24:49A.M. EST

"Shit."

As his homecoming party continued to rage outside, Wallace excused himself for a few moments to get his head together and—namely—call Steven. He wanted to check in with his lover to see if he'd safely made it to the dig site. Not that he really needed to. Steven was more than capable of taking care of himself. However, to hear Steven confirm that he was where he was supposed to be reassured Wallace. So it was a ritual that he steadfastly followed, even though Steven teased him for it.

Steven's laugh was warm and rich. His silver eyes took on a deep gold-orange glow in the wake of the fire cheerfully burning in the fireplace. Wallace was held entranced by them as the arms around his neck drew him downward. The two men lay entwined together on a large, thick rug spread in front of the fireplace of Steven's small home in Mossdeep City. Nothing was between them but the heat of skin against skin. A thin blanket of cashmere was pooled against the small of Wallace's back and draped only to cover their legs.

"My big protective husband…haha, how sweet," Steven murmured, his lips an agonizingly short distance from Wallace's, so close that he could feel the small puffs of air on his lips when Steven spoke. Wallace tightened his arms around Steven's waist, his eyes never leaving the molten pools of silver and gold that held him. Steven smirked, a tiny upward movement at the corner of his lips that spoke volumes.

He pulled one hand back to rest against the side of Wallace's face. His fingers loosely raked through the loose blue tresses of hair that spilled down the sides of Wallace's face. Wallace's skin prickled and burned simultaneously under the pleasant, tentative touch.

Steven's smile broadened and Wallace felt himself in awe. It was ethereal to witness such beauty: the melding of such inner warmth and that of the fire blazing beside them into perfect harmony. It took Wallace's breath away, and suddenly, he didn't want for there to be even the few centimeters separating them any longer. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to Steven's, enjoying the small, delighted noise he was rewarded in response…

"Er…Sir Wallace? Are you okay?"

Wallace nearly jumped out of his skin. His sharp movement sent his cell phone flying out of his hand, and the person that had startled him dove to catch it. Instead of shattering to pieces against the ground, the phone ended up safely nestled in the hands of a frizzy-haired, freckle-faced young girl.

Two large, doe-like brown eyes appeared from under the mop of bushy brown hair. They settled on the phone in her hands and the girl let out a sigh, "Whew! That was close!"

"Oh my heavens. Forgive me! Are you okay?" Wallace said, extending a hand to help her up.

She misinterpreted his gesture and handed over the cell phone. Before he could say anything further, she had leapt to her feet, brushing off dirt from her clothing and muttering darkly about a newly formed scrape on her arm. Wallace was about to apologize again, but then she looked up, not even the slightest bit begrudging as she smiled widely at him. There were actually stars in her eyes.

"Oh, I've waited SO long to meet you, Sir Wallace!" the girl, who couldn't have been any older than twelve, gushed breezily, eyeing him with nothing short of adoration.

A little taken back by the unexpected reaction, it took a moment for Wallace regain his bearings, "Um…thank you. For my phone, I mean. Are you alright…miss…?"

She made a small noise of annoyance at herself and then offered him that hundred-watt smile again. She extended a confident hand, "Oh! It's B-Brenne! Just Brenne, Sir Wallace! And I'm so very honored to meet you! I…I can hardly believe it!"

Though Wallace was no stranger to the respect he commanded from younger trainers (even if all the gushing and idolizing was embarrassing), he couldn't help but to smile at the earnest joy in her face. He shook her hand, dipping his head, "The honor is mine. Please. Let us cast aside titles. Call me Wallace, for I am in your debt."

A pink tinge flooded Brenne's face; she looked as if he'd just bestowed upon her a sacred relic. She gave him a bashful smile and then said, "It was nothing." Then her face brightened when she seemed to suddenly remember something, "Oh! Master Juan sent me to find you, S…er, W-Wallace! The mayor is about to give a speech in your honor."

"Ah, of course," Wallace said. "Please tell him I will be out momentarily. I need only a minute."

Brenne nodded, her frizzy mess of hair bouncing on her head, "Yessir! I will tell him." She turned to go, paused, and turned, offering another large toothy smile, "It…it was nice to meet you! Imseriouslyyournumberonefan!"

With that rushed squeak, she fled. Wallace was left to blink, a smile tugging again at his lips as his mind tried to keep up with the girl's youthful whirlwind of energy. Shaking his head ruefully, he dialed Steven's number from memory and turned back to the beautiful mosaic of turquoise, blue, and green tiles that adorned the back of the building he'd taken shelter behind. He pressed the phone against his ear and let his eyes wander over the tiles as he awaited a response.

The cold voice of a recording filled his ears, "Unable to connect call. The user you are trying to reach is not connected to any accessible network. Please try again later."

Wallace pulled the phone back and frowned at it. It wasn't too farfetched to receive this sort of message since the excavations often led Steven deep underground where digital signals couldn't reach the outside world. What was strange was that Steven—mindful of Wallace's worrying—always called before he delved into his explorations if he did not hear from Wallace first.

Could he have forgotten? No, that's not like him…Wallace thought, the seeds of worry planting themselves into his thoughts. He was distracted from his thoughts by a joyous roar from the crowd, followed by an announcement that Mayor Flo had just entered the scene…probably to make her speech welcoming him home.

It would be unforgivably discourteous to be absent during the grand public spectacle. Sighing, Wallace ducked out of the quiet nook and fingered the redial button, hoping to somehow catch just a few words with his other half before diving back into the all too vigilant eye of the public.

Somewhere deep in the heart of a dense, dark forest, a Rocket peon crouched to examine whatever it was that his Vulpix had just found. It wasn't hard to identify, even smashed to pieces as it was. It was a cell phone, a pricey one at that. That obviously hadn't stopped the boot someone had taken to it.

"Heh," he snorted, amused, "so the bitch realized how we were tracking them. Ah well. It doesn't matter. This fucking rock is nothing but an island. They don't have anywhere to go but to the other side. And when they do get there and run into our guys waiting…"

He smirked and mimed with his thumb the picture of his throat being slashed. Vulpix just coldly looked at him, waiting patiently for them to continue the hunt. If he could be sure that she wouldn't tear his hand off, he would have pet her like he did his regular Pokemon. To avoid such discomfort, he ignored the impulse and rose, reaching to his belt to radio in that he'd found a clue to where their intruders were headed.