Tracing Origins

A/N: As always, thank you for the positive responses!

Chapter Three: Dreaming Awake and Asleep

The sound of soft cursing ushered Steven back to consciousness for what must have been the sixth (seventh? He'd lost track) time. It had been growing increasingly difficult to awaken from the unnatural darkness. He felt strained just pushing his heavy eyelids open. The effort took him a good minute and even longer for his fatigued brain to figure out what was going on.

It was dark, wherever he was. Well, not as dark as the all encompassing blackness of unconsciousness that he'd been in but still. After a few confused moments, he realized that he was lying on the ground, propped carefully up on his uninjured side. Also, he was behind a…bush? What in the world? Was this some kind of dream?

He started out of these fuzzy musings at the crisp, worried voice that was jabbering quietly somewhere to his right:

"Gengar, what about the northern path? There too?"

A gravelly voice grimly replied, "Gennn gar. Gen gen gengar."

"Shit. They're cutting us off faster than we can move."

Steven was confused. Who was that? After a few minutes of listening to the woman discuss possible routes of travel with the Gengar, the memories slowly returned to him. Right. The pair that had saved him back in the lab.

"Aron?"

Steven jumped, taken off guard by the concerned, high pitched voice that suddenly appeared beside his ear. His alarm dissipated the moment Aron's softly glowing blue eyes appeared in his line of sight. He sagged back against the hard surface he'd been leant against, drained and relieved, "Aron…"

"Arrr on. Arrr onnn," Aron purred worriedly, nuzzling him under his chin.

Steven attempted to smile reassuringly but could manage only a weak upturn of his lips. His eyelids were growing so heavy that it was hard to concentrate. Aron's shiny metallic figure was blurring before him as it was. It looked funny, like a mess of fuzzy blobs in different colors that made sounds and…

"Aron..?"

Steven jumped again, eyes snapping open and wildly darting around to see where he was. His heart was pounding in tune with the pain that pulsed in his side. Aron let out an alarmed yip and pleaded for him to calm down.

Steven frowned. Aron was here? And…where was here? What was going on? Wait…was he bleeding?!

He gasped as he involuntarily dug two probing fingers into a hastily wrapped bandage around his lower torso. The tips of his fingers came away wet, and even in the dim light that filtered through the leaves and branches (what in the world?) covering him and Aron, Steven could make out the distinct red of blood. His head jerked downward and all he could do was blink in bewilderment at the missing half of his shirt where instead a makeshift bandage stretched across his abdomen. His pounding head was blank, offering no explanation. Panic quickly crept into his thoughts.

Aron wiggled forward and pressed its head into his chest, cooing, "Aron! Ar-on! Arr onn!"

"Aron," he gasped in midst of the panic. He choked and let out a string of wet, painful coughs. The sharp shaking motion sent fire jettisoning through his body from the wound on his side. Steven squeezed his eyes shut and instinctively curled up, clinging to a frantic Aron for dear life as he waited for the pain to abate.

He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. A low voice followed, "Hey, hey! It's okay. Relax! Just calm down and breathe. Breathe! Aron, move for a second. Let me see."

"Arronn…" Aron whimpered in apology and squirmed out of Steven's arms.

Steven felt himself be gently pushed back onto his back. He weakly forced his eyes open and blinked several times to dispel the mist of tears obscuring his vision. Much to his astonishment, a woman with dark hair and a Team Rocket uniform was crouched over him. She was carefully moving the bandage aside, checking his wound while muttering worriedly under her breath.

He was too disoriented by pain and fatigue to get past how absurd it was that a Team Rocket minion was actually checking over his injury with the utmost care. He stared at her woozily until she seemed finished and pulled the bandage back into place. Swallowing to wet his parched throat, Steven asked, "Who…are you?"

She let out an impatient sigh, not even looking at him, "We've already been through this twice. I'm…"

She trailed off as some unknown realization hit her. She looked up and pierced him with a critical, pale green gaze that explored his face. Had he been in a more lucid state, he might have noticed the dread that filled her eyes before she wordlessly moved and lifted his head, tilting it forward. He did let out a feeble protest as his face was practically shoved into her bosom while she inspected something on the back of his head.

He let out a muffled cry of pain as her fingers raked through his hair and hit a sore spot. She cursed again, "Damnit, I didn't notice this before. Damn damn damn…okay, okay. Relax. Okay..."

The woman nimbly reached back into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a roll of gauze. Steven stared at it, feeling faint and unsteady. He blinked slowly, "What…?"

"I think you have a concussion," She explained tersely. He winced as he felt her fingers tentatively edge their way around the newly discovered wound on the back of his head. So that was the source of that infernal hammering in his skull.

"It's not bleeding, but I'm going to wrap it just in case it gets reopened," She went on, doing exactly as she said.

Steven gave her a blank look, "Why…would it get…reopened…?"

Her eyebrows furrowed worriedly but she just shook her head, muttering, "Nevermind. Stay still."

"Gen-gar," the ghost-type urgently said from somewhere behind the woman.

"Yes, Gengar. I know. Believe me, I know!" she retorted, tightening the bandage around Steven's head. He winced as the added pressure sent another dull spike of pain shooting through the already familiar throbbing between his temples. She muttered an apology and then jumped to her feet, finished. Her attention was already back on Gengar, "Okay, we might have bought ourselves a few minutes but--"

Something she saw that Steven could not made her stop mid sentence and drop low, her arm draping itself over him so she could drag him down to the earth as well. He stifled his cry in his arm as the action disturbed his side once more. Before Steven could even formulate a question as to why they were suddenly eating dirt, he got an answer.

A boot came down with a resounding thud unto a twig, snapping it neatly in two and crunching the brittle leaves attached to it. Steven's heart began to race when he realized how close the boot was, separated from his face only by darkness and a few measly leaves and branches of the thick brush that they were hidden behind. Even in his blunted state, he felt the danger of their situation.

By the way her body tensed up, he knew that she felt it too. He ventured a look in her direction and found her staring hard into the booted feet before them. Neither of them dared to breath, counting the endless seconds before this menace would depart. Then he saw her make a sharp movement of her head.

When Gengar suddenly appeared in front of them, using its ability to move through matter without disturbing it, Steven realized she'd been signaling to the Pokemon. Gengar silently crouched in front of them within the branches and leaves, its blood red eyes fixed on the Rocket. Steven didn't even dare to look down when he felt the comforting weight of Aron press against him, his eyes transfixed on what Gengar was about to do to the Rocket.

Through what visibility Gengar's transparent form allowed, they watched as the Rocket scanned the area. A thin beam of light was shining across the small enclosing of trees and bushes from the scope on the weapon that he swung around in his search. Steven couldn't make out more than a silhouette, but it wasn't hard to guess that he was searching…probably for them.

The light was blinding as it was aimed in their direction. Steven winced, squinting against the onslaught of illumination even as his heart leapt into his throat in alarm. Aron tensed at his side in anticipation for battle while the woman stiffened. Gengar edged forward…

Then, as fast as the beam of light was on them, it was swung away again. The Rocket let out hefty sigh, irritated. There was the squall of a radio, followed by his gruff voice, "Sector four clear. If they came this way, I ain't seen em' yet."

A crackle, then: "Roger that, Sev. Keep your eyes peeled. They can't have gotten that far from your position."

"Roger. Over and out," Sev answered. He made another cursory glance around before sighing and marching off.

Steven exhaled a soft, shaky breath. Gengar tentatively leaned its head out to make sure that they were safe and then signaled to its trainer that the path was clear. For now, anyway.

The woman visibly relaxed. Steven, on the other hand, felt drained by the scare. He blinked hard several times, the adrenaline ebbing. Feeling faint, he sagged against the unfamiliar woman, and she hastily wound an arm around him to catch him.

"Aron?" asked Aron softly but Steven couldn't muster the energy to comfort him.

"Just hang on for a little longer," she urged quietly. When his eyelids began to shut of their own accord, she gave him a stern but gentle shake, "Hey. Don't fall asleep. We can't risk it, not with your head injury."

What she didn't understand was that he was trying to stay awake, even when the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness welcomed him. Would it really be so bad for him to just give in? Maybe he could just shut his eyes for a few seconds? That wouldn't be so bad…

She shook him again to rouse him, "Come on, man. Work with me. Keep your eyes open."

"Gen gar gengar," the ghost-type spoke up. It was growing increasingly agitated with their lack of mobility. Their pursuers weren't decreasing in numbers any time soon nor would they be able to gain any ground by staying as they were.

Steven felt something press against his leg. He found Aron looking up at him steadily. He met the small steel-type's eyes for a few heartbeats and then felt a deep calm settle in place of the fear and uncertainty in his chest. No, there was no giving up. Not after everything they'd seen and been through together. Aron was there and so long as he was, he would not allow it.

Thank you, my friend. Steven thought gratefully. Aron seemed to hear him anyway and nuzzled his leg, accompanying his action with noises of encouragement.

The woman noticed the change and gave him a half-amused, half-moved look after the moment had passed, "All good then? All right…" With a soft grunt, she stood, hefting him up with surprising strength in the arm that was draped around his waist. She was, thankfully, at least careful not to further agitate his wound.

"Just a bit longer…" She breathed, leading them out of their hiding spot and back into the darkness.

Even after a long day of celebrating and jet-lag from his trip to Sootopolis, Wallace found that sleep did not come to him easily. Normally, the soothing, steady sound of waves, broken only by the occasional squall of a Wingull, and the familiar saltiness that permeated Sootopolis' tropical atmosphere were enough to lull him into slumber. The ambiance of his home town worked wonders in cleansing a troubled mind of worries.

Well, it's certainly not working tonight. Wallace thought peevishly as he turned from his right to his left side. It wasn't hard to figure out why. He sighed and flopped back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom.

Perhaps I should contact his father. Just to ensure that he is safe. Wallace mused, tracing the irregular shadows cast by the light and popcorn textured stucco with his eyes. He frowned. But if he did arrive at the dig site, surely he would have called me by now. Unless something happened…?

Frustrated, he rolled back onto his side and stared absently at the far wall. Steven may have teased him about being a mother hen, but it was something that was just in his nature, especially when it involved Steven.

His eyes were drawn to the many frames that adorned the wall that he was facing. The pale evening light that spilled in from the room's single window bathed the frames in irregular stripes of luminance. In these frames were contained pictures that immortalized some of Wallace's most memorable experiences, of his most cherished memories.

There were various ones from his childhood. One was of him at five standing proudly with his parents, arms straining to hold a Feebas nearly as large as he was. Another was a snapshot from his first thrilling (and ultimately unsuccessful) gym battle. There was the one of him and the rest of his classmates standing outside the Sootopolis Gym with a young, dashing Juan. Besides it was another of him bearing his place in third the first time he competed in the Hoenn Conference.

Wallace found himself smiling as he traversed down memory lane, using the pictures as his guide. His gaze inevitably fell on one of his favorites. The picture's setting was in a small café in Ever Grande City. Featured in the picture was a younger version of him as well as that of Steven on the day that Wallace had stepped down as Hoenn's Champion…

When Wallace had announced his renouncement of the Champion role, he fully anticipated the shock that it elicited. After all, it was absurd to strive as hard as he had to dominate the other challengers, the Elite Four, and the--now former—Champion only to throw it away to become a Gym Leader of all things. His explanation as to why he'd chosen to become Sootopolis' Gym Leader instead of his hard-won title had puzzled them even more.

To be fair, his reason had only been a half-truth. Wallace hardly found it appropriate to let the Pokemon Association in on his private life, though. Plus, there was the teensy, tiny fact that Winona might have some protest about his giving up such a prestigious position because he wanted to have more time to be with her. She would never be happy knowing that. Therefore, Wallace was content to let her and the world think that he simply wished to follow in Juan's footsteps, to take over as Sootopolis' Gym Leader.

"Well," said the baffled chairman of the Pokemon Association, "if that is truly your wish…"

Wallace nodded, feeling all eyes in the room burning into him in bewilderment. "It is indeed, Mister Chairman. I apologize for the abruptness of my decision, but I have entertained this notion for some time. Only now have I, at last, decided to take the same path of that of my Master's."

The chairman looked dismayed but nodded. The Association could not force him into keeping the Hoenn Champion title. "Very well then, Master Wallace. The Association will honor your wishes."

"You have my utmost gratitude, Mister Chairman," Wallace thanked with an inclination of his head. He studied the man's face for a moment. Noting the air of disappointment that hung around the older man, Wallace spoke again, this time with great conviction and firm, unshakable confidence. "I leave the honor in more than capable hands. Of that, I am certain."

In his peripheral vision, Wallace saw the man standing beside him stiffen in surprise. Despite himself, Wallace smiled fondly. He truly meant every word. There was not even a hint of doubt in his entire being that Steven Stone, the young heir to the Devon Corp. family and extremely talented trainer, would make a fantastic Champion. Wallace's victory over Steven in their last fateful battle had been a hair's breath from defeat, something Wallace only managed to avoid with the dedication of his Pokemon, all of his skills, and—he was certain—a lot of luck.

Steven, his good friend and equal, was more than worthy to be the Champion of Hoenn.

The Chairman's assenting nod was instantaneous. "I agree whole-heartedly, Master Wallace."

The man turned in the direction where Steven was watching. Wallace's smile deepened as he saw the astonished look still on Steven's face. He knew that Steven had been curious as to why he had been summoned to meet with Wallace and the Chairman but had been too polite to voice the question. The Association head nodded his permission for the current Champion to take up his right in passing the title unto his successor.

"Steven Stone," intoned Wallace, turning to the stunned man. "You have proven beyond every shadow of a doubt your mastery in not only combat but in your understanding of the duty every trainer holds with his or her Pokemon. With this and the faith of your Pokemon, you have proven your merit as not only a phenomenal trainer but one worthy to ascend the heights of greatness."

Wallace fingered the strings that secured the ceremonial white cape around his shoulders. With a tug, the cape easily slid off. Wallace carefully spread it out in front of him, to let the light illuminate the pristine white garment. Then he turned to Steven, who visibly started at the very unexpected turn of events.

"It is my honor to confer upon you the title of Champion of the Hoenn region. This is the Cape of the Champion. Wear it proudly, Steven Stone," Wallace solemnly declared, his head bowed as he reverently held out the cape to Steven. He had a sudden flashback to the day HE had received the cape from the former Champion and the pride that he had felt as he slid the cape over his shoulders for the first time.

The Chairman echoed his gesture. Wallace kept his eyes on Steven, though. For he saw the torn look on Steven's face as his friend gaped at him, expression uncertain and incredulous. He did not even look as if he was sure that this was really happening.

When Steven's eyes met his, Wallace smiled encouragingly, infusing his expression with as much confidence and support as he could. He ignored the regret that briefly welled up inside of him as the honor he'd fought so hard for slipped from his grasp. It was not appropriate to feel regret now, Wallace told himself firmly. He had made his choice.

Some of the anxiety slowly seeped from Steven's expression, at least. Blinking rapidly (as if to ensure that he was not dreaming), the silver-haired man returned the bow as he took the cape into his hands, "Thank you, Master Wallace. Mister Chairman. I…I will defend the honor you have bestowed upon me to the fullest."

Wallace nodded, a melancholic smile on his face, "Please follow me then. We will register your Pokemon. Then you and your team will enter the Hall of Fame as League Champions."

Steven nodded absently, still looking overwhelmed. He was alternating between staring at Wallace and at the cape in his hands. The Chairman watched them from behind his desk, a benevolent smile on his face.

"Congratulations, Mister Stone! You will make a fine Champion. You have the Pokemon Association's utmost support," the Chairman praised quietly.

"Th-Thank you, Sir," Steven answered automatically. His eyes were on Wallace's, and the Water Master could see the hoard of questions gathering behind his friend's bright gray eyes. Wallace gave a small shake of his head, still smiling, and promised--without words—to explain soon.

Both Steven and Wallace bowed to the Chairman and departed. They walked side by side without speaking for a few moments. Finally, Steven broke the silence.

"You could have at least warned me," he remarked quietly.

Wallace winced and gave his friend an apologetic look. "Yes…I should have. I apologize for not showing the proper consideration. I…I would be lying if I told you that this was a decision made over night."

"What was it that brought this on?" Steven asked with an edge of incredulity still in his voice. "It…it's quite sudden, Wallace."

"I…I am merely trying to rearrange my priorities in life," Wallace answered carefully, looking forward towards the door they were walking to. He was not quite ready to depart with the real reason behind his abrupt decision just yet, even to his close friend.

Steven fell silent. Wallace could feel his friend's eyes studying him quietly. When several seconds passed and Steven still had not spoken, Wallace stopped and turned to him. "Listen...I sincerely apologize for thrusting this burden so unjustly at you, my friend. Please do not feel pressured into taking this. I did not mean to come off as if you had no choice. I—"

"Wallace," Steven cut in gently. He gave Wallace an understanding smile and shook his head, making the short, neat strands of silver hair swish softly along his face. "There is no need to apologize. If anything, it is I that must apologize. I'm honored that you thought me worthy to replace you. I am just in shock, I think. Forgive me for coming off as ungrateful."

Wallace couldn't hide the relief he felt. Already, his shoulders felt lighter now that the weight of the cape—with its prestige and responsibilities--had been lifted from them. He was also relieved that Steven did not push for any more of an explanation other than the one Wallace had given.

"Good," Wallace went on and continued walking towards the Hall of Fame. "I would accept no one but you."

They passed under the threshold of the massive, sacred Hall of Fame. All of their talk in there was the official, ceremonial mumbo jumbo that came with one Champion passing the role unto his or her successor. When they were finished, Steven looked both pleased and unbelieving that his name and that of his Pokemon were among the company of so many illustrious Champions of the past. Wallace grinned and beckoned for the new Champion to follow him back outside now that the task was complete.

"Come with me," Wallace requested.

The other man nodded and hurried to catch up. As the door slid shut behind them, Steven sidled up to him and looked at him curiously. "Now where are we going?"

Wallace gave him an affectionate grin and made an elegant bow at the waist, "To celebrate, of course. Let me have the honor of being the first to officially congratulate you with lunch, Champion Steven Stone."

He laughed when the title flustered another grin out of Steven. Then Steven shook his head and huffed good-naturedly, "Oh come now. You can't tease me when I am helping you."

Wallace raised an eyebrow at his friend, not missing the impish note that had entered Steven's tone. "Helping me? How so?"

Steven just gave him that knowing little smirk again and shook his head. "Nevermind. You were saying something about lunch?"

The rest of the memory faded into a bright pink haze. Instinctively, Wallace knew it was the sunlight bathing his face in its warmth. As he slowly clambered his way back to the world of the living, he found that he was still smiling from the dream. When he opened his eyes, his senses were greeted by the sight of his ceiling, the smell of the sea, and the sound of Wingulls and Pelipeppers squawking at each other outside.

It figures. Wallace thought, returning his eyes to the last picture he'd been looking at before he'd succumbed to sleep, at his lover's smiling face. Then his eyes drifted to his phone, which had not rung in the middle of the night. Where are you, my love?

Across the world, in the darkness created by a canopy of thick foliage and tangled branches, Steven let out a shuddering breath and told his grim rescuer to wait. She stopped their already slow progress and replied with a stressed, terse, "What is it?"

Steven would have answered had he not, at last, lost his struggle to stay awake. Feeling dizzy, his head pounding, and exhausted, the world drifted away from Steven once more.

A/N: For those of you who have not read the Pokemon Special Manga and are a bit lost on the whole thing with Wallace, Winona, and his renouncing of the Champion title, I recommend you go to Bulbepedia and look up Wallace. There is a lovely bio on him (as well as Steven) that elaborates on this bit of canon.