Secrets Kept

*Updated June 2014 – combined the original chapters 1 and 2 to make the new chapter 1. All the same story, just some minor revising and consolidating chapters.*

Just FYI, the prologue is essentially the beginning of Secret's Told, happening directly before the start of that story, hence all of the italics. Think of it as a flash forward about three years from the start of this chapter.

Chapter One

The town was the same as ever, with its dusty roads, grassy hills, and picket fences surrounding homes that all seemed to look so much alike – a picturesque scene of an upper-middle class small town in the middle of nowhere. For the sixteen-year-old, driving along the roads in his Jeep with his Umbreon by his side, it was both nauseating and exhilarating. It was good to be home again, especially after being gone for so long.

Now finished with his work at the Sayda Research Institute, Gary was back in Pallet for good, at least for a little while. He intended to continue working towards becoming a researcher by going to college but, unfortunately, that meant he had to actually do a few years of high school, leaving him stuck in Pallet Town. At least he would be able to work in his grandfather's lab and gain more experience, he figured, but being stuck in one place for such a long time was not something that appealed to him.

Umbreon let out a sudden, excited bark as Gary pulled into the driveway at the lab, causing her trainer to jump slightly and nearly run over the mailbox. She wagged her tail excitedly despite the curse and scold that her enthusiasm elicited, pawing at the door until the car came to a stop in front of the garage.

"Would you chill out?" Gary snapped irritably, already exhausted from the drive home and not entirely willing to deal with his pokemon's extreme excitement. Umbreon didn't seem to mind the scold; after all, she had grown used to Gary's moodiness whenever he was tired.

Within a few moments, they were both inside the house with Gary's belongings dropped off at the front door. The house was quiet, leaving Gary feeling a bit miffed as his sister and grandfather had been annoying him for the past several weeks to hurry up and come home as soon as possible – sooner if he could manage. The fact that they weren't even in the house to greet him irritated him a bit, but he could deal with it. With a sigh and a glance down at his pokemon, Gary headed off in the direction of the lab, certain he would be able to find his grandfather there.

Sure enough, he found Professor Oak in the laboratory looking over a report while Tracey worked on his computer in a distant corner of the large room. As Gary entered the room, Umbreon immediately ran up to the professor with her tail wagging, begging for attention. Gary couldn't help but laugh and roll his eyes a bit; the canine had obviously missed the older man who kneeled down to greet her before looking up at his grandson as the boy meandered over.

"I wasn't expecting you until Friday, Gary," he said, sounding a bit surprised to see the teen.

"It is Friday," Gary pointed out.

"Ah… Oh, that means the grass pokemon need their physicals today –"

"I already did it, Professor," Tracey interjected, finally removing his attention from the computer as he stood and approached the other two people in the lab. He and Gary shared a knowing smile – they both knew all too well how easily the professor could lose track of time while doing his research.

The professor shook his head. "See what you have to live up to here, Gary?" he teased.

Gary grinned, shooting Tracey a casual glance. "I'm up to the challenge," he replied with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Tracey laughed and Gary felt his stomach tighten at the sound; the older boy was cute when he laughed. Don't start with that shit, Gary mentally scolded himself, quickly suppressing the thought.

"Let's see who can win," Tracey began, his voice light and playful. "The spoiled grandson or the experienced assistant."

"I'm not spoiled –"

"Keep telling yourself that, Gary; Tracey, why don't you help him bring his stuff upstairs while I finish up in here?" the professor cut Gary off before he could finish.

Gary started to say that Tracey didn't have to do that but was once more cut off when the professor insisted and Tracey declared that it wasn't a problem before leading him out of the lab and back into the hallway.

This could take some getting used to…

Looking around his old bedroom, Gary was reminded of the fact that he hadn't visited home in well over a year and that he hadn't actually lived there for nearly six. The room was going to have to undergo some serious changes as it was still fit for a child of ten who dreamed of being a top pokemon trainer, not a sixteen-year-old whose dreams and interests had changed over the years.

"Just the way you left it," Tracey's cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts.

Gary turned to see the other boy enter the room behind him, placing his armful of bags next to the door where Gary had left the others. "Yeah," he agreed; the room had indeed stayed exactly the same. "I kind of wish it wasn't though." Tracey gave him an odd glance and, for a moment, Gary thought he was going to comment on his negativity – it was what his grandfather would have done in the same situation.

Tracey merely nodded as he peered around the room. "Well, you have changed a lot since I first met you. It would only make sense to want the room to change as well," he said reasonably.

Nice to see Ash's insanity hasn't worn off on him. "Try telling that to my grandfather," Gary sighed softly. He knew quite well that it would take a lot of bargaining to get the older man to let him change the room. When he was younger, the room had changed constantly; they were forever painting walls or changing bed spreads and, invariably, something always ended up broken or ripped or paint ended up where it wasn't supposed to be and the Professor eventually made it a rule that there would be no more changes. That had been eight years earlier and if Gary knew anything about his grandfather, it was that he kept his word on everything, including bedrooms.

"I could help you with that."

"Really now?" Gary was doubtful, to say the least, but Tracey nodded again. "Do you have any idea how stubborn my grandfather is?"

A smile curved Tracey's lips as he looked back at the younger teen; Gary would have to learn sooner or later that the pokemon watcher knew the professor nearly as well as his grandson did by now. "Of course I do." He tilted his head to the side and considered the boy for a moment before smiling again. "The question is, are you as stubborn as him?"

Something in his smile caused Gary's insides to flip. Did Tracey sense that there was something less obvious that set him apart from Ash and the other male friends that Tracey had? Better yet, did he sense that there was a deep similarity between the two of them that no one knew about? Gary shook his head slightly, pushing aside those thoughts as he crossed his arms and smirked. "Worse," he admitted. If you think Grandpa's bad… his thoughts trailed off as Tracey's smile faded a bit.

"That can be a double-edged sword, you know," he said quietly. "I'll go talk to your grandfather while you settle in."

With that, Tracey left the room, leaving Gary to lean in the doorway and watch him head down the hall. It took him a moment to realize where exactly his gaze had landed on the young pokemon watcher and he groaned when he did so, reaching up to rub his temples.

Enough! Gary scolded himself with a guilty glance at his bags that had yet to be unpacked. You have work to do…

He set to work on unpacking his bags and putting everything away in its proper place, all the while trying to make the room look more as though it reflected his current state of maturity. At the same time, half-formed thoughts circulated the back of his mind, bringing up old memories of his former rival that he quickly suppressed.

Remember why you stopped being friends with him, a voice in the back of his head sneered. Yet another thought suppressed.

… … …

The bedroom looked so utterly different than it had a mere week ago, Gary realized rather suddenly as he stepped away from the wall with a small yawn. He tossed his paint roller down on the plastic sheet covering the floor and stretched lithely, sparing a glance over at Tracey as he heard a soft laugh from the other side of the room.

"Bored already?" the other boy asked, turning just enough to shoot his friend a grin before returning his attention to the job at hand.

Gary shook his head as he knelt next to the small stereo in the middle of the room to change the cd that had just ended. "The smell of paint makes me sick," he explained. Somehow – Gary wasn't quite sure exactly how – Tracey had talked the professor into letting his grandson paint the room and get new furniture. Gary had a suspicion that it had something to do with the older man wanting to have new carpets put into all of the bedrooms, but he wasn't about to be picky. He stole a glance at Tracey as the pokemon watcher stepped back and critically examined the spot he had just painted several times over.

"A bit OCD?" Gary asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Another laugh escaped Tracey and Gary couldn't help but smile – he, for some inexplicable reason, enjoyed making him laugh.

"Nah, I'm an artiste," Tracey replied in a false French accent with a flourish of his paint brush.

Gary snorted at the ridiculous action. "Gay as well?" he joked, plopping down on the floor next to the radio. The flamboyant flourish certainly fit the stereotype… Not everyone fits the stereotype, genius, the voice in the back of his mind sneered. Of course, Gary ignored the voice; his conscience was far too talkative lately. He lay down on the floor with a soft chuckle; the paint fumes were starting to give him a migraine.

An unreadable smile curved Tracey's lips as he looked back at the younger teen once more, whom he considered with interest. "You're perceptive," he finally said a moment later, turning back to the wall again. "Most people don't pick up that so quickly."

Suddenly feeling a bit bad about the tactless joke, Gary sat up slowly. "I was just kidding about that," he quickly defended. He hoped that he hadn't offended Tracey; the other teen didn't seem offended in any way. If anything, Tracey appeared mildly amused as he glanced back at Gary.

"I wasn't," Tracey replied with a shrug.

Gary remained silent and Tracey turned a moment later to give him a curious look; he certainly wasn't used to the younger boy being quiet, even though they had become friends nearly three years ago, only a short while after Tracey had come to live in Pallet Town. He had his suspicions, not that they were at all obvious, or even well-founded, for that matter. But a suspicion was a suspicion and Tracey had watched Gary interact with his sister's friends enough in the week to have his interest sparked.

"It's good that you're so perceptive," he continued, setting down his paint brush. He leaned against an unpainted part of the wall and casually crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking a stance that Gary often took. Judging by the small smirk that appeared on Gary's face, Tracey guessed that he recognized the stance. "You need to be perceptive to be a good researcher. Of course, sometimes it's more than just being perceptive that makes us notice things. I'll go get more paint."

Gary watched as Tracey left the room, suddenly confused. He groaned and slumped back against the carpet, refusing to allow his mind to begin dissecting the possible meanings behind Tracey's last comment. It wouldn't do any good to look into the meaning; Tracey was simply commenting on the fact that Gary was perceptive, it didn't mean anything. Everyone knew that he was perceptive – it had gotten him into all sorts of trouble as a child, to the point that his grandfather had forced him into piano lessons just to ensure that there were a few hours out of the week when he couldn't get into trouble. Not that it had necessarily helped.

He lay there on the floor for several long minutes, carefully keeping his mind blank to avoid thinking anything that a perfectly normal, straight sixteen-year-old wouldn't think. Despite his attempts to keep a blank mind, half-formed thoughts kept coming up, some involving Tracey, some involving just himself.

You can't lie to yourself forever…

It was at that moment that Professor Oak chose to enter the room, crossing his arms and shaking his head when he saw Gary laying on the floor. "I know you like to be stubborn, but opening the windows really would help with the fumes," he chastised in a light tone. He crossed the room and opened the windows, hoping to air out the room at least a little bit; it was no wonder Tracey had come downstairs for a break.

Gary ignored him, keeping his gaze on the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the last thought with memories. The ceiling in his room was black with small stars painted on it; a project that had been done when he was only eight and he'd had a fascination with the night sky. It had taken a long time to complete but it had been worth it back then. Looking back it was worth it just for the memories of the nights when his friends had spent the night just so that they could work for an hour, get a tiny amount of work done, and spend the rest of the night watching movies and eating pizza. Unfortunately those little slumber parties ended up one person short towards the end of the project…

The other boys had questioned Ash's absence but Gary simply couldn't tell him why he suddenly wanted nothing to do with his best friend.

He could so vividly recall Ash's laughing face as they splattered each other with paint – so much of the substance always seemed to end up in places other than where it was supposed to go. Ash had playfully pushed him, leading to a short-lived wrestling match that Ash had won with the help of one of the other boys – the one who had taken Ash's spot as Gary's best friend and still remained his closest friend to this day. The light had hit Ash the right way, the way it always hit him when they played outside, and Gary had noticed how cute the boy was. It wasn't the first time he had noticed, it was more likely the hundredth time, but it was the first time he had realized the implications.

Cute… It was the word the other boys used to describe the girls in their school. It couldn't describe Ash, not for Gary at least; a girl could think Ash was cute, but not another boy. It wasn't right, it didn't make sense. Animals needed to make babies in life and so did people because they were a type of animal. To do that, you needed a boy and a girl. That train of thought had made sense to Gary even as a child; he was, indeed, perceptive. Two boys couldn't make a baby, neither could two girls. That was why it didn't work.

Confusion had washed over him in that instant as an eight-year-old, and he had viciously shoved Ash off of him when the smaller boy leaned over him to tease him for losing. Despite being shoved, Ash had smiled and held out his hand to help Gary up, a gesture that was irritably batted away. The confusion never left Gary that night and he took it out on Ash. That night's sleepover had ended early; Ash eventually got upset and went home in tears, Professor Oak had driven the other boys home, and then Gary had gotten a long lecture about how to treat others. Incidentally, that was also the night the professor had made the rule that there would be no more changes made to the bedrooms in the house.

Gary sighed and closed his eyes, coming back to the present as his grandfather appeared over him. The professor asked if he was alright and Gary nodded slowly in response as he opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling again. Professor Oak smiled, suggested that the teen get some fresh air, and then turned to leave the room.

"Can we paint the ceiling?" Gary asked suddenly, just as the professor was entering the hallway beyond the doorway.

Slowly, the professor came back into the room, frowning in confusion. The question had been unexpected, especially since Gary hadn't said a word in the time that he had been in the room – something he attributed to the paint fumes in the room as they had always made the boy feel ill. "Do you have any idea how much paint it would take to cover the black, Gary?" he asked after a moment of recovery.

Gary frowned, easily recognizing the answer as being a definite 'no'. "We could just paint over the stars…" he murmured, more to himself than to his grandfather. He didn't want memories of the time spent painting it to haunt him. Not with the way so many strange thoughts had begun to circulate his head since his arrival home.

"Gary," Professor Oak began firmly. "The paint is making you delusional, go outside and get some air."

Reluctantly, Gary forced himself to his feet, partially glad to have an excuse to stop staring at the accursed ceiling and its painted stars. A brief second of thought caused him to head towards the dresser that had been pushed to the center of the room rather than to the door. Perhaps seeing his best friend would make him feel better, he decided as he grabbed his keys from the top of the piece of furniture.

"I'm going to Darren's," he explained flatly to his grandfather.

He started to leave the room but was stopped when the professor plucked the keys from his hand, removed his car key from the clip, and handed it back to him with just the house key remaining in its place. "Walk. Get some air or you'll have a migraine for a week."

Gary rolled his eyes but slipped the house key in his pocket and headed down the hallway, muttering something under his breath about his grandfather being a pain. The professor shook his head without taking the bait; teens would be teens, he figured. What point was there in chastising the boy for being irritated?

… … …