Several months later...
With an item finder in hand, the grinning young man had found a good place to dig. His shovel stabbed the soil below, and scooped a pile up. Throwing it behind him, he scooped another pile of dirt, and another. Thoughts of what he could possibly find rolled in his head, and he smiled in anticipation of just what was buried beneath him.
So when he dug up a Pokeball, his expression soured, but his curiosity spiked. What was a Pokeball doing underground?
He picked up the ball and pushed its button. It squeaked as it would when it open, but for some reason, the lid didn't budge. He pushed again; same result. After pushing it several more times, he got frustrated when it kept squeaking, but refused to open. Shoving the Pokeball into his pocket, he filled the hole he dug, and then went to a bespectacled brunette talking with other members of his group.
"Hey, Professor Elm?"
Elm turned to the ginger teenager. "What is it, Rusty?"
Rusty pulled the dirty Pokeball out of his pocket and showed him. "My item finder detected this underground, and I just dug it up. I tried opening it to see if there was a Pokémon inside, but it just refused to."
Blinking in astonishment, Elm took the Pokeball out of the trainer's hand. Pressing the button, the ball squeaked again, without opening. He pressed a couple more times to no avail. "Hmm... well, I don't know why anybody would bury one of these, Pokémon or not. If anything, the pressure of being buried for what I'm guessing is a long time is hindering its ability to open. Hm, I'll go give this to Kurt so he can fix it, and we'll see what'll happen when it opens."
Professor Elm grumbled under his breath about the lousy timing of Kurt's vacation. In the meantime, he was going to keep the Pokeball for safekeeping until the Pokeball expert returned. Aware of how dirty it was, Elm decided that a nice scrubbing would clean it up nicely. Making the ball presentable would be nice, and perhaps it would be easier to open it.
When he washed it as thoroughly as he could with his rag, he tapped the button out of curiosity, only to repeat its squeak without opening. The tired result elicited a groan from the professor.
"Agh, what Pokeball refuses to open?" he mumbled, picking up another cloth to dry it with. He was rubbing the stubborn ball when he heard footsteps striding into the lab.
"Professor Elm."
Professor Elm looked up at the owner of the familiar voice. Standing in front of him was an older professor with gray hair and a serious demeanor. A heavy silence fell, and both found themselves giving tense stares to each other. The two men stared at one another before one coughed, and the silence was broken.
"Oh, I see you're here, Professor Oak," Elm replied, resuming rubbing the Pokeball.
"Yes, I am. I believe that might be the Pokeball I've heard about," Oak said.
Elm grimaced. "You are correct. I've been cleaning this thing so it will look nice, and may be easier to open. I've tried to contact Kurt so he could see what is wrong with it, but no luck! He's not home, and at this time I cannot contact him. So, I'm stuck with this stubborn Pokeball, cleaning it, pressing the button every now and then to see if it will open, and wondering why in the world someone would even think about burying a Pokeball! If it was broken, you just throw it away, if not, then I don't see why you need to, and if there's a Pokémon inside-ugh, do I want to think about it?"
"Take it easy, Professor Elm. It could be an immature lad who could not wait to throw his broken Pokeball away," Professor Oak stated.
Professor Elm grunted. He rubbed the Pokeball carefully, glaring at it and wondering if he was going through the trouble of cleaning a broken Pokeball.
"I suppose that is true," he said grumpily. "Still, I can't help but hope that it could still work, and it could be reused. After all, it looks intact, but it just refuses to open."
"It's time underground has affected it, that's for sure." Professor Oak touched the Pokeball and stroked it. With a low hum, he said, "It's very rough. I believe you need some wax."
Professor Elm sighed and walked to the cabinet. He took out a bottle of wax, doused it a couple times on a new cloth, and put the bottle back. He walked back and started to wax the Pokeball. He was careful not to put too much, so it could still be held without slipping out of his hand. He waxed it as carefully as possible, and even was sure to double check whether it was waxed every inch evenly. After he was sure the Pokeball was smooth, he stopped and looked at the Pokeball. He tapped it once again, and it squeaked once more.
Elm sighed. "Professor Oak, I don't think it-"
He nearly jumped when he was interrupted by the Pokeball suddenly opening and shooting a beam of light. The light was bright, but he just couldn't stop staring. He couldn't believe his eyes at the sight before him.
"I don't believe it! It worked!" he exclaimed.
Professor Oak nodded, with a combination of gladness that the small machine had finally opened, and graveness at what the Pokémon inside said about the trainer who buried the ball. "Yes, and we will see what Pokémon was in it."
The beam landed on the table, taking on a new form, which both professors watched with interest. The form was small, and was slouching. There was a round body, a round head with a long nose, stubby paws, and small feet with an absence of toes. Both recognized the shape as one of the starter Pokémon that Professor Elm gave to trainers; the Fire Type Cyndaquil. When the Pokémon stopped emitting light, their faces turned from interest to shock at the state the small Pokémon was in.
The emaciated Cyndaquil stood there, whimpering from the pain she was in. She was covered with scrapes and bruises. She had a black eye, her fur was messed up, a couple scrapes were on her forehead and nose. Her left foot was beginning to blacken, while above it, there was a terrible scrape. Her back bore several lacerations, and her belly was horribly bruised. Her left arm appeared broken, while her right arm there was a lash, which was wide and deep, which caused it to bleed heavily. She quivered, let out a weak "Quil..." and fainted.
"Oh, no!" Professor Elm shouted, grabbing Cyndaquil. He cradled her and wrapped his hand around the lash on her arm, putting pressure on it to keep it from bleeding. He felt his hand beginning to leak her blood, so he quickly let go, grabbed his drying rag, and wrapped it around her arm. He took a quick glance at his arm, and already Cyndaquil's blood left a large stain. He took one panicked look at the elder professor, whose demeanor had been shaken by the bloody sight.
"My stars, we need to take it to the Pokemon Center, and fast!" Professor Oak exclaimed. He started running out the door, with Elm tailing right behind.
They came outside to a light rain dampening the streets of New Bark Town, but that didn't stop them. Professor Elm crouched as he ran, shielding the weak Cyndaquil from the rain. Looking down at the small, blood-soaked Pokémon, he whispered, "Hold on, little one, we're taking you to someone who can provide you with medical care!"
The Pokémon Center was not too far from the lab, and soon, both professors were barging through the door, panting and soaking wet. The sudden noise made Nurse Joy jump, but she immediately calmed down when she saw who it was. Smiling, she asked, "Hello, professors. What's the hurry?"
"We have a Cyndaquil in need of immediate medical attention!" Oak shouted, gesturing to the Pokémon that Professor Elm cradled in his arms.
It took a split second for Nurse Joy to register the bad shape of the Cyndaquil, and with a gasp, she called, "Chansey! We have an emergency! We have a Cyndaquil suffering severe blood loss!"
The called Chansey came out immediately with a rolling bed, and Professor Elm gently set Cyndaquil on the bed before Chansey took off, and Nurse Joy hurriedly followed. Standing there, the two men looked at each other, and took a seat on the foyer's bench. There, they waited.
Cyndaquil found herself flying through the forest again, being chased by the men in machines, dodging trees, and the whole time, she had no control over where she was going. She stopped for a brief respite, floating over a rock and looking over a forest, then started flying again.
If I'm flying, why don't I just fly over the forest? she thought. As she thought this, she suddenly plunged into a ravine, hearing a roar of pain coming from somewhere. She tumbled into a thick mist, and fell until she saw a boulder, just waiting for her to crack her head open on it...
She woke up with a quick squeal. Breathing heavily, she started to look around. This was not her Pokeball. Instead, she was in a room, lying on a bed. There was a window to her left, and she could see a Pokémon battle happening. She was too curious about the room to watch, though. There were several other Pokémon resting, hurt and tired from battles they had. The room was white, but not white enough to hurt her eyes. It had a calm and peaceful atmosphere, which made the other Pokémon very calm at the moment.
Where am I? she thought. She tried standing up to explore, but her leg hurt so bad, she immediately sat back down. Then she noticed her arms were wrapped up in bandages, along with her pain-ridden leg. She spotted a couple more bandages wrapped around her abdomen, and felt a thick, soft pad on her back, which the bandages on her abdomen her holding. She felt her head, which had even more bandages, and spotted a bandage on her nose.
Where did all this come from? she wondered, rubbing her nose.
She thought about what had last happened before she was forced into the Pokeball. She remembered the thunderstorm, the rope tethering her to the tree breaking, the lightning striking her and her miraculous survival, and then the vicious beatdown that Anonimo gave her. Her memories were accompanied by splashes of red, and the dismayed look that Croconaw had held on his face, up until he was chased off by the others. After that, it was all just a painful blur.
With that in mind, she couldn't help but wonder, How did I get here?
Just then, a woman with pinkish-orange hair, wearing a nurse outfit came in. She blinked in confusion, for she thought that the nurse worked somewhere else. She watched as the nurse carried several bowls full of Pokémon food, which made Cyndaquil drool. She had not had food for quite awhile, and her hunger pangs were gnawing at her insides. She continued to watch Nurse Joy hand the bowls to the other Pokémon as they woke up. Upon seeing food, each of them stuck their faces in and munched happily. Cyndaquil ground her teeth at the sight, and her stomach rumbled loudly, which prompted odd looks from the others. She flushed red upon the eyes resting on her.
Nurse Joey finally made her way to the Fire Mouse with a bowl of food in tow. She sat on a chair next to Cyndaquil's bed, and set the bowl on her lap. She smiled and said, "You must be hungry, little Cyndaquil. You've been out for the past few days, and been in that Pokeball for who knows how long."
"Da! Cynda!" Boy, am I! However, she found herself unable to move her arms much without them hurting. Nurse Joy took a piece and held it to Cyndaquil's mouth, which the latter took a quick bite.
"I'm sorry that you can't move your arms, but don't worry, they'll get better soon. For now, I'll feed you."
Nurse Joy grabbed a handful, and held it under Cyndaquil's mouth. With a delighted squeal, Cyndaquil devoured the handful quickly. She devoured the next handful that the nurse handed her, and the next one, and the next one. To her, nothing ever tasted so good, and she could feel her taste buds singing in absolute glee. Nurse Joy giggled at the enthusiasm that the little one had in eating.
Once Cyndaquil was done, she grinned in satisfaction of being fed. Nurse Joy stroked the soft, uncovered fur on the Pokémon's head and said, "I'm glad that you liked it. Now, I think I'll call Professor Elm and tell him how you're doing."
Cyndaquil watched as the woman left the room, and kept on smiling. However, once Anonimo crossed her mind, her face fell into a frown.
Where was he? Does he know she's here? Will he ever come back? She remembered each biting insult that he had spat her way, and the pain he had put her through. She tried to decipher the emotions she felt whenever she was around him. Did she obey him because she loved him, or was it merely out of fear?
She thought about this until night fell, and she looked at the stars. He had neglected to feed her, made her battle when she was sick, didn't rescue her from the ice-cold pool of the gym, tied her to a tree when punishing her, and beat her senseless after she saved his life. Her frown deepened, and she suddenly felt hollow. Her satisfaction at being fed was gone, with a new hunger. But what was this hunger? Uncertainty invaded her thoughts, and she didn't know if she felt love or fear around her former trainer, but whatever the case, she wanted him back. She had no idea why, she just did.
Why was I never good enough for him? Why did I have to be so weak? I tried my hardest, I was obedient, and I gave him a lot of respect! she thought, her breaths turning shallow. He didn't have to hurt me all the time... but why couldn't I be stronger? I just wanted his love, and his respect, and his praise... but my tries were never good enough...
Her eyes leaked out tears. They started out just as small trickles, but they soon came out in torrents. They began to soak the fur on her cheeks and the blanket that covered her. It stung her black eye, but she kept sobbing in pure heartbreak. She couldn't believe that she had disappointed Anonimo that much. She really was weak, and she deserved everything she got. And no matter what comforting thought tried to knock, her heart kept saying, He left me, he left me, he left me... I really am worthless...