"This is the Devon Corporation Headquarters." The building was more imposing than tall. It held itself up, mighty and arrogant, smaller than any skyscraper in New York, but the tallest out of all the buildings in Rustboro. Its spires rose into points against the sky and weathered visages of forgotten presidents were engraved into its stone façade and Gregorian arches. "It's pretty plain," Stephan said sheepishly, "Sorry." He was being serious.

I didn't answer. The only place I had seen a building like this was a cathedral in Rome. I half expected to see a convent of nuns turning the corner as Stephan led me through oaken doors and a long corridor filled with stained glass windows. Skyra, who was the only one out of her PEN, silently swooped at the colored motes of dust floating in the air, skimming the ceiling, which was fifty feet above me. When we reached an opulent marble staircase, we started to climb, Skyra gliding above us.

"Why is this staircase so long?" I complained after we had passed two landings. Stephan, who was fifteen steps above me, looked back, surprised.

"Oh, Alex! I thought you were right behind me!" He glanced forward briefly, then turned back. "It's only a minute or two more of stairs. Should I help you?" Before I could accept, Skyra wheeled back to me. Grabbing me under my arms, she flapped her wings hard and managed to get me half a dozen steps up. With Skyra's help, I landed on the last landing.

"There's something off about him," she whispered in my ear when Stephan was out of earshot. "He's really twitchy." She landed on the ground. "You're heavy."

"I'm a marshmallow. There's a difference."

"A heavy marshmallow." When I scowled, she kissed my shoulder in apology. I couldn't help but smile after that, pleased and surprised. "Put me back in the PEN. I want to sleep. Bring out Torrent. He has a good sense for untruths."

Torrent blinked sleepily when he came out.

"Sorry, Torrent. Can you keep me company for a little longer?"

"Yay! I get to be with Lexa!" He grinned sweetly.

"Did Skyra get tired?" Stephan asked when he caught up to us.

"Yeah," I responded, putting a hand on Torrent's head. "Are we there yet?"

"Yes. This is the President's office." He knocked on a heavy teakwood door. "Sir, may we come in?"

"Come in! Come in!" Stephan opened the door for me and I stepped in with Torrent. Behind a solid, dark, wooden desk sat a heavyset man with white hair. "I am President Stone!"

A vicious growl ripped out of Torrent's throat, growing louder and louder until it seemed to fill the entire room. Startled, I smiled nervously at President Stone and looked down to Torrent, whose life preserver charm started to darken subtly and spin slowly. I put my hand on his head but his eyes flickered furiously. He shifted into a more aggressive pose, his charm spinning into a blur.

"Torrent! Stop it!"

He wouldn't. He had never disobeyed me before, but this time, he bared his teeth and continued to snarl at the president. After I tried to stop him several more times, I clicked the button of his PEN, returning him to the ball.

"I'm sorry, President Stone." I looked at the PEN in my hand. "I don't know what got into him."

He grinned, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

"Oh, I daresay it's fine. What a spirited Piece! Although I'm sure he would be easier to control with a PAL. Would you like one of our top-of-the-line models? I'm sure the Great PAL would suit you wonderfully!" I squirmed, unwilling to criticize the products of Devon Corporation to their president's face.

"Thank you, but no thank you, sir. I think I'll stick to my PENs. Sorry."

He held up his hand when I apologized.

"Nothing to apologize over. I'm sorry I pushed my product on you. Everybody has their own preferences and a PEN is a worthy invention."

I was surprised.

"Really? Even though the PENs are your competition?"

"Well," he gave me a playful wink, "a bit of competition never hurts anyone, eh?" He thought for a moment, stroking his white beard, and went on. "I know you think that the PALs are a little on the harsh side-"

"A little doesn't quite cover-"

"-but the reason we made PALs," he cut in, "is that young adults, like yourself-"

"-I'm still a kid-"

"-could catch a companion with very little work. With PENs, C-Keys must weaken the Piece first, which requires the use of a Piece anyway. However, with the PAL, C-Keys don't need to weaken any but the most powerful Pokémon. It was originally a device made for the young, the elderly, and the infirm."

Something didn't make sense.

"I'm sorry, sir. Did I hear you correctly when you said 'Pokémon'?"

"Did I say that?" He chuckled. "My, my, I'm getting old. Did I just make up a strange word?"

"Maybe you read about it?" Stephan added and then flinched when President Stone glanced at him. The president's gaze, which had been warm seconds ago, turned ice cold.

"No... I'm sure I made it up. I have a tendency to do those kind of things... right, Stephan?"

"Yes, sir!" he squeaked, "The most peculiar proclivity!"

"Does it hold some special meaning to you... er...?"

"Alexandra, sir."

"Yes, Alex!"

I smiled and shrugged, not answering.

"Anyway, I probably made it up," he replied self-consciously, "Age does peculiar things. Anyway, I would like to thank you for the assistance you gave when our Devon Goods were stolen. I'm sure you went through a lot of trouble."

I remembered the smell of crimson blood and struggled to repress the memory.

"Alex, if I could ask for your help in two requests...?"

"Um, of course, President Stone."

"Excellent. Stephan?" The nervous young man stepped forward and handed me the Devon Goods and a nondescript letter.

"If you can, could you deliver this letter to Steven in-"

"-Dewford, and the Devon Goods to Captain Stern in Slateport, right?"

He roared in laughter.

"Why, Captain Stern? That's a wonderful pun! Stern for the boat, and why, yes, I do think he is rather stern. I will have to use that one from now on!" Clearing his throat, he brought his fingers together in a steeple. "You are a remarkably well-informed young lady. Indeed, Steven is currently in Dewford. Captain Giman, not Stern," he gave another chuckle, "is in Slateport. Are you, perhaps, acquainted with Steven?"

"No. I don't know much about him. I just know he's your son."

"Adopted son," President Stone corrected. "Although our hair colors are similar. He's a bit of a problem child, but I do adore him." He beamed helplessly and I grinned back.

"President Stone, does Captain Giman's name mean-"

"Deception? Yes, it does. An unfortunate name, isn't it?" A smile slowly unfolded on his lips, and his storm grey eyes locked with mine. Suddenly, my stomach started to turn uneasily and I took an involuntary step back.

Ask him what he thinks of July 17.

I ignored the voice.

"Well, I'll be going now, sir."

"Oh, yes! I've kept you too long. I trust that you can find your way out, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Stephan, show her out please?"

"R-right away, sir!" He escorted me to the door and brought me into the hall, closing the door behind me. Immediately, I heard a slam and a muffled voice. I put my ear to the door, hoping to hear what they were saying, but the door was too solid and thick. Quietly, I pressed the buttons on Eris's PEN. When she materialized, I put my finger to my lips.

"Try to hear what they are saying," I whispered inaudibly. She nodded, creeping to the door.

"...en she suspects something!" Eris said in the deep voice of the president.

"S-she's a nice girl, sir! I don't... would suspect-t anything," Eris stuttered, imitating Stephan. She frowned and edged closer to the door, trying to hear the conversation better. I heard the dull thud of fist on flesh.

"You're an idiot! Why would you say I read it somewhere?"

"...else to say, sir!"

"...the extent of giving her a PEN! What… our company?!"

"...won't tell...!"

"Steven was much more efficient that you!"

"...am sorry for..."

"Sorry won't cover the... you wasted. You... to be called my son!"

"I swear I won't... time!"

"There won't be a next time!" President Stone shouted, loud enough so that I could hear it. "You are my own blood! How can you be so incompetent?!: There was a slap. "The girl will deliver... Steven. As I thought... do everything for you. Steven... execute..."

Silence.

"Tears," Eris said, backing away from the door. "A broken family."

I scooped up Eris and turned around.

"Come on, Eris. Let's go." Halfway down the staircase, I heard footsteps.

"Miss?" I faced the person behind me. He looked tired, and was wearing a white lab coat. "Are you Alexandra?"

"Yeah. Did I leave something behind?"

"No, miss. But President Stone issued a phone for you." He handed me a black rectangle that looked shockingly similar to an iPhone and adjusted his glasses. "It's called the-"

"-iNav? Or iPiece? Or something corny like that?" The scientist looked more frazzled with every word I spoke.

"It's called the iPhone, miss. It comes from Apple."

Sure enough, the phone booted up with the familiar logo.

"Wait a second. The Apple Company?"

"Yes. It was established by Steve Jobs."

"But that means...!" I snatched the phone out of the scientist's hand and sure enough, it was an iPhone. "But that means there are other overlaps between universe, not just the two! If Jobs was secretly trading through one of them, no wonder he's so rich!" I stopped and looked up.

"Hey, is there anyway to combine the iPhone to another machine?"

"Easily, but you would have to Jailbreak it, and then move the files onto a USB. However, the Jailbreak for that particular operating system isn't out yet."

"Damn it! Why am I always waiting for a Jailbreak?!" I stormed away, legitimately furious that Apple's restrictions had followed me to this world.

"I put President Stone as one of your contacts!" the scientist yelled after me.

I wandered back to the Piece Center, not thinking of anything. But as soon as I was conscious of my thinking, my mind immediately focused on the gore, the blood, the frown on the dead man's face. I shuddered. Eris trotted after me and brushed her hand along the buttons of the PENs at my waist, letting everybody stretch. Torrent sidled up to me, taking my hand.

"Lexa?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Fine."

He looked like he was going to say more, but instead, he let go of my hand and ran to Briar. I felt bad for brushing him off, but couldn't concentrate on it.

"Adapt, adapt, adapt, don't cry, adapt, adapt," I chanted in my head. The bile rose in the back of my throat but I quickly thought about nothing again, and continued to walk towards the Piece Center.

My shoulder collided with someone and I landed on the dusty ground, butt first.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I-" The voice sounded familiar. My light blue eyes met familiar honey ones. "Alex?" Brendan took my hand and easily pulled me up. For a second, he stood staring at me, holding my hand. Then, slowly, he touched a thumb to my eyebrow and another to the corner of my lips. "Repressing sadness isn't good for you," he said, disapprovingly.

"I'm not sad."

"On the contrary, facial areas 4 and 6 are slightly turned up. Areas 8 and 10 are tightened and 18 and 20 are slightly turned downwards. Those are the classic signals for the micro-expression of sadness, and yet-" he cupped my cheek and took my hand again, brushing his thumb over my knuckles, "See? It all flattens out. Hiding." One side of his lips curled up listlessly. "Porcelain."

"Just like my therapist." I jerked away from him, and continued to trudge to my destination. But I looked back when I didn't hear any of my Pieces following me. Brendan was crouched on the ground, listening to Torrent, who was whispering in his ear.

"Torrent, let's go!" Torrent glanced at me, but continued murmuring to the snow-haired boy. I saw Brendan's expression change from curious, to shocked, to something that turned down the corners of his mouth. "Come on, Torrent. You can't tell him-" I took a great, shuddering breath as I tried to crush the stinging in my eyes by closing them hard. "Please guys. Can we just go?" I heard Brendan walking towards me.

"Just shut the fuck up and cry already," he said.

Here he was, telling me to cry, when my entire life, I had been trained not to, unless in pain. Rough fingers intertwined with mine.

"Are you going to cry?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

"Do you want dinner?"

"Yes."

I didn't pull my hand away as we walked to the Piece Center.

I jerked awake with a scream, sending Torrent to the floor and Skyra spiraling to the ceiling. The room twisted in my vision, blurring through the half-reality still lodged in my eyes. I screamed again, attempting to erase the nightmare from my head.

"It's a dream! Alex, it's a dream!" Briar shook my shoulder hard, as if he was trying to shake the fear out of me. He easily avoided the punch I threw at him.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! ASH! HELP!"

"Alex! Stop it! It's a dream!"

"Ash! Where are you?!" Sobs ripped out of my lungs. "Ash! Why did you have to leave?!"

Then, I felt strong arms wrap tightly around me. I struggled and thrashed but I couldn't break out of Brendan's muscled hold.

Gradually, I stopped fighting, and simply wept.

"I'll be here," Brendan whispered behind me, his breath warm against my wet cheek. I was sitting between his legs, cradled against his chest. He nestled his forehead against the crook of my shoulder. "And the holding helps. I promise. Arceus, I promise. I've been through this." Torrent climbed into my lap. "I stopped having nightmares years ago." Silence filled the air. "Torrent told me what happened."

"So what?"

"Not just what happened today. The entire thing. Including this." He circled my burned wrist with his thumb and middle finger. "Does it still hurt?"

"I'll be fine."

"My mom committed suicide, you know." I looked over my shoulder to find tiger eyes staring back at me.

"Yeah?"

"You didn't say, 'I'm sorry' like the other people do."

"I'm sick of 'I'm sorry.'"

"So am I."

"Nobody means it anyway."

"They do sometimes," he murmured, yawning, "You just have to look for the ones that do." He let go of me. "Here, move over." When I did, he slid underneath the blankets, using Torrent like a natural hot water bottle.

From the other side of the room in the dark, Briar and Skyra spoke at the same time.

"If you do anything to her, we end you."

"Anyway, I'm not allowed to sleep together with a guy," I said, twisting the blankets.

"Did you brother tell you that?" Skyra asked.

"Yeah."

"Then you sleep, and I'll keep watch," Brendan said, "How about that?"

"I don't think that's what he meant."

"Yeah, but it's what he said. Loopholes."

Reluctantly, I slid down on my side and he tucked the blankets around me and Torrent, who was curled up between us.

"Did you know that you're beautiful?"

"If you do anything-!" Skyra's voice warned.

"I'm not going to. But she is. Anybody can see that. Your eyes have ripples in them."

"What am I supposed to do with that information?" I questioned.

"I don't know. Put it in your self-esteem pocket? Save it for a rainy day? Get embarrassed like I do when you compliment me?" He ran a hand through my hair and laughed, but through my exhaustion, I could not see if he had covered his mouth. "Go to sleep. I'll be here."

The last vestiges of the terrible dream disappeared with the breathing of another person in the room.

I woke up with his hand curled around my face, in a gesture that evoked tears of homesickness. My eyes were still swollen from last night, so I cried silently for a while, admitting it wouldn't make a difference.

"Here."

I looked up to see Skyra offering me a small towel.

"It's for your eyes. Put the towel over. It's warm. I'll bring you a cold one soon."

I took the towel from her as she took Brendan's hand and put his arm over Torrent's still sleeping frame.

"Put it over your eyes."

I complied. Around me, I heard the sounds of Briar moving around, starting to wake up Eris, who hated eating late, but couldn't wake up without help. Skyra came back and I switched towels. I thought I could feel my swelling going down.

"Let's go eat," I said.

The dining room of the Rustboro Piece Center was vast, decorated with wood and iron. The walls were paneled with chestnut and the floor had a rich, red carpet. It had the old air of a mansion, as did the kitchen. I almost felt scandalous for eating a simple breakfast of toast and milk in this extravagant banquet hall. There were other C-Keys, but most of them were in the healing part of the Piece Center, busily running in and out of the doors.

"Good morning." Brendan walked in, toweling his fluffy hair. "Is that toast for me?"

"What? No, I'm eating this. It has my teethmarks on it."

"Even better." He snatched the toast out of my hand and took a bite out of it before returning it to me. "That was an indirect kiss."

"Why are you so focused on that kind of stuff? Is it a guy thing?"

"Dunno. Maybe I look for love because I never had it as a child. Perhaps I never had pretty things growing up so I have to justify the rest of my life with all the pretty things I can find. That's just my own analysis, though." He disappeared into the kitchen while I thought about what he said. I stopped when he came back with a jar of peanut butter with Aspen, his Treeko, right behind him. "Aspen, say hello." Aspen nodded, like he had when I first met him, but instead of a baton in his hands, there was a spoon. "Aspen loves peanut butter almost as much as I do. 'Almost' is the key word here." The Treeko rolled his eyes.

"That is so unsanitary," I commented when Brendan filled his spoon with peanut butter, followed by Aspen. "That jar is the communal j-" When he was bringing the spoon to his mouth, his sleeve slid down.

He had a horizontal scar across his wrist, cut too cleanly to be an accident.

I grabbed his wrist and pulled, trying to push back his sleeve. He locked his fingers around my hand painfully, making me grit my teeth and preventing me from moving. We stared at each other in this stalemate until he let me go with an easy smile.

"Well, alright. If you must look, then look," he said, spooning more peanut butter into his mouth.

They were crossed over each other, countless of overlapping cuts. Some of them were clustered so close together that they were solid block of white scars. They looked like misaligned railroad tracks, because running straight through them all were two vertical cuts that went straight down his arm.

"I knew I should have worn the bandages." He popped the spoon in his mouth and shrugged. "That's why you never noticed them before."

It was true; I hadn't noticed them before. I thought he had worn the bandages as a fashion statement and had thought little about them.

"Why do you do this? Doesn't it hurt?"

"There are worse things than this. What if the world ran out of peanut butter?" he shuddered, swallowing what was left of it in his mouth. He started to scrape the jar. "That is my nightly fear. I actually had nightmares about that. Want some?" I pushed his hand with the spoon away.

"Why do you do this?"

The spoon went back into his mouth and he leaned in closer, enough so that our foreheads touched. From this close, I could see his strange eyes focusing on mine, oddly unsmiling. He took the spoon out of his mouth and tapped my lips with it.

"Do you know what it tastes like to disappear?"

"I didn't know it had a taste."

"Hmm." He leaned back and closed his eyes, so that his eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks. "There once was a poem that I read. A part of it is, 'how fragile / this leaf of mint / frozen through, non-existent / at my touch. / The shatters taste of nothing / but ice.'" He opened his eyes. "It's a pretty poem. And that's what disappearing tastes like. A void. Nothing."

"You don't have to tell me this."

"No, I have to tell you. So one day, if you ever meet a boy like me, you know how to take care of him." He gave Aspen the jar and stood up, walking towards the door. I followed him. "I told you, my mom committed suicide. She hung herself when I was a five years old. But, before she did, she shoved a burning candle in my mouth because I was crying too much." Brendan stuck out his tongue and I was horrified to see it twisted and pale, just like the scar around my wrist. I unconsciously rubbed my burn. "She had postpartum depression for a long time, I guess, but that doesn't make me hate her less. That doesn't justify my growing up without a mother or having a father who was half-sick with sadness and overwork." As we passed through a glass corridor that led to a garden, he pulled back his sleeve and studied his arm, slowing down. "I was lucky I didn't lose my tongue. And I was lucky it happened early enough so that I learned how to use it correctly. Disappearing tastes like this void I have on my tongue and sometimes, I wonder if I disappear completely, I'll be able to taste again."

He laughed, covering his mouth, and I finally knew the reason for it.

"So." Brendan turned to me. Calmly, he took my face in his hands and leaned in to brush his lips over my forehead. When I didn't move, he skimmed his mouth over my cheek. "What does it feel like to disappear? For you?"

The copper eyes again, prying, begging to curl up in my head.

I shoved him away and stormed outside. When I found Brendan easily keeping up with me, I whirled around to face him.

"Do you want to hear about how much I cried when my mother walked into my room that day?!" His eyes looked darker. "Do you want to hear about the nights I would wake up screaming whenever a car passed by, and crawl to my mom, who was always awake?! What about the way the elegant celadon urn looked in the light and how it contrasted with the ashes inside?! Or how about the packs of therapists that followed me around saying, 'It's okay to disappear for a while'. THEY DON'T KNOW!" I slammed a palm into the center of his chest, "You can never come back if you go! And if you go... everything you want to come back to will be gone. If you ever find a girl like me," I stopped, breathing hard and fighting back tears.

"Then what?" He did not touch me. "What do I do?"

"Don't disappear."