I don't know how long I sat there, on my knees, crying my eyes out.

I knew I should have called for help but it just didn't occur to me, and I hated myself for it. I was too concerned with my own fucking guilt, when I didn't know the extent of this man's injuries. Pokémon were powerful things, goddamnit, whatever size or shape they came in. Lily was walking around him, displaying no emotions other than curiosity, but she did look a little upset and confused. I didn't reprimand her for it. Flame had sat himself a distance from us, his head buried into his paws. I didn't really know how to feel towards him. I knew that he didn't mean it – the anger and frustration had consumed him entirely, and the fact I understood his biology helped reduce any anger I felt. I knew he was aggressive. I knew he was angry. All the time. I just wish he'd taken it out in a more sensible manner.

"Pika pika," Ace said quietly, looking up at me with huge eyes. He was trying to tell me something. Instinctively, I reached for my pocket to feel the relieving bulge of a phone. Dave. An ambulance. The Center. They can help. I ruffled his head and he smiled weakly, but turned his head to look at the unconscious man. "Pika pi?"

"I d-don't know, Ace," I couldn't help but stutter out my sentence as I dialled out Dave's number. It rang and I impatiently fidgeted with my spare hand, murmuring vulgar language until he answered, rather cheerfully. "Dave, it's…it's Darrell…"

"You don't sound well. Are you alright?"

"Yeah…well, I…oh, no…"

"Darrell?"

I felt the tears prick the back of my eyes again. I shut them tight, trying to block out the awful sight in front of me. "Dave, we found the guy. The…the one who'd been hurting all of the Pokémon. But…he started to…to really shout at his Gengar…and Flame…oh, God, Flame just wasn't having it, and he…he let out a really strong Fire attack…the guy's burned really badly and he's unconscious and I don't know what to do Dave please please help-!"

"Calm down, Darrell. It's gonna be alright…I'll call an ambulance and then I'll come and get you. Where are you?"

"The…the plaza…th-the—"

"I know which one. I'll be there in five. Hang in there, bud, he'll be fine. I'm with you."

He hung up. And fuck, had I ever felt loneliness before, well, it was nothing compared to the sheer black wave of loneliness that swept over me then. Even with Ace tugging at my too-big jumper, desperate for me to comfort him, I was the one needing comfort. Even with Lily pacing around quite happy with the situation, I was the one that needed her to soothe me. I wanted someone. I wanted my brothers. Eddie and Zack. I wanted a complete stranger. I wanted Dave. I just wanted arms around me to take me away from what was happening and what my Flame had done, I felt sympathy and guilt, solely for the fact it was not his choice. He had not consciously chosen to do it.

I cried harder than I ever had in my life.

"Darrell?"

I had fallen asleep.

The voice around me, calling my name gently, was familiar, but not recognised until I sat up slowly, shook my head a little and saw my best, lifelong friend, Joel Randall, standing in the doorway and grinning that shit-eating get-what-I-want grin. The sepia sleep wore off gently, taking her sweet arms away from me. I blinked at him a few times, unable to believe it, and then my heart took over, aching violently and I threw myself into his arms, trying to make sure he wasn't a figment of my dreams.

"Joel!"

"Hey, man, how are you?"

I looked up and nodded at him but I wasn't too sure; I was shivering and I couldn't control it. I couldn't understand what I was feeling. The adrenaline coursed through my veins and I couldn't relax, and images of that man lying there, terribly burnt, kept tormenting my mind – then it exaggerated, twisted and mutated into different grotesque images; he crumbled to ashes he died he died he died he came back as a zombie and ate my brains I saw his entire body charred and burnt alive he screamed in pain he he he—

And I started crying again.

He caught me as I fell somewhat, suddenly shattered from the shock. He sat me on the bed and only then did I catch a good look of my surroundings. The room was blindingly white and a mint clean smell of disinfectant flooded my nostrils and lying against the table leg was my bag. I felt around my pockets. Phone. MP3 player. Wallet. But I felt no presence of Pokémon and for a moment, I started to panic. When I really shouldn't have been.

"Where are they, Joel? Flame and Ace? Where's Lily and Storm? Oh my God they—"

"Calm down, Darrell," he said, his tone changing from laughing to serious. That was why I loved Joel. He joked about me all the time, but he genuinely cared, more than most friends ever did in their lifetimes. A hand rested around me. "They're fine. Nurse Joy has them in the lobby. Do you want to see them?"

"Flame…" I remembered him; as if he had been a lover from years past; ones out of old historical novels, with yellowing love letters with musical handwriting. But it was only hours ago, maybe not even an hour. I'd lost all track of time and I glanced up at the clock.

Half past three in the morning.

"Flame's alright, too," Joel smiled, interrupting my train of thought. "He's getting back to his old self. And—"

A familiar face peeped through the doorway, bearing a similar smile. And I had never been more glad to see Dave Sullivan at that moment. Joel and I just smiled back, although mine was shaky but I couldn't control it. My panic began to dissuade – I could feel its cobwebs in my heart began to untangle and die. It felt good. Rejuvenating. Breathing life back into me and forcing away regret.

"Thought you might like to know how the guy's doing," Dave grinned. "They got him stable, but he crashed a few times in theatre."

Joel asked what 'crashed' meant but I bit my lip. I already knew what it meant. Eddie told me enough from his science classes for me to understand what it meant. The man's heart had stopped before they could restart it. Whether or not he was alive was beyond me – I felt my smile fade and the cobwebs tangle themselves again, but I fought against the strains of guilt, forcing them away.

Not my fault. Not my fault.

"…not really, mate, he's fine now, but you called just in time, Darrell…"

"B…But it would've helped if I'd called sooner, right? I-I mean…if I'd called sooner, he might n-not have crashed at all!"

"Don't focus on what might have happened, dude," Joel gripped my hand and spoke seriously. "Didn't you hear Dave? He's fine now. An' that's the main thing."

I was breathing heavily, my chest rising further than it was falling and gripping Joel's hand with an iron fist but he seemed to be completely immune to physical pain then. Ah. I could always trust Joel to be made of steel and to not even notice if he had been insulted; he just laughed it off. I wanted to go back to the old Darrell. It felt like a change had occurred within me; something had made me paranoid and shaky, all of the time, rather than the calm-as-hell badass I had felt like earlier on in my journey.

"…yeah…yeah, I guess…" I managed to say, and Joel squeezed my hand reassuringly.

"Come on. We'll go into the lobby and I'll get you a cup of tea. It'll calm you down."

Reason ten billion and two why he was my best friend.

Before the three of us left Vermilion, I had a couple of things to sort out before I could have any peace of mind. Joel brought me a cup of tea and after drinking it, all three of us fell asleep, squashed together on a tiny bed; we slept until the somewhat reasonable hour of eleven AM. I woke up refreshed but still with things on my mind, and it was up to me to straighten them out.

The first order of business was dealing with Flame. I had to confront my starter alone, and ask him why he did what he did. I didn't know how to punish him, and I also didn't know how he would deal with it. If he listened to what I had to say and followed it, I guess that would have been enough.

Joel and Dave left the Center to grab lunch for us when I seized the opportunity. Flame followed me into the small room we had slept in and sat down next to me with his arms folded. He intimidated me, I wasn't going to lie. But I was determined to beat it.

"…Flame, I want to know what happened back there…why you did what you did."

He turned away from me. "Char. Charmeleon."

"Because he was hurting his Pokémon?"

"Char."

"Alright."

He looked at me; if he could have raised an eyebrow he would have done it. I had managed to do the seemingly impossible. I had grabbed his attention. I actually had a chance of breaking through. So, I was careful, and kept on talking. I heard Joel and Dave's voices, and begged silently that they wouldn't come through.

"Well, kid…you can't fight my battles for me. That's not what I'm raising you for."

"Charmeleon!"

"I know I'm your trainer. I'm raising you to be the best you can be. To bring out your inner strengths, and your personality, and your qualities. Because you're my family, Flame."

I was on a roll. I fumbled in my bag for my camera and turned it on, clicking a button or two to show him some of the pictures I had taken. I found one at the very start of my journey and began from there. He shuffled next to me, and took a look, clearly listening.

"The thing, is, Flame, raising you guys is like having kids. And when you do that when you're young, you get the opportunity to grow up together. My mum told me before I left that I would have to grow up to look after you, but it doesn't work like that. Sure you can become more responsible, but you can't force something like growing up. And you can't learn life lessons before you've had the experiences."

He stared and I kept going. "Flame, boy, you're the only one I want to be doing this with. Remember last night? Just before Dave found us, you had that emotional breakdown on the plaza and I just sat down beside you and patted your back and let you freak out because, honestly, I felt like fucking freaking out too. And if I feel what you feel, we've gotta have some kind of connection, right? And I want you to know that if you need to, you can freak out as much as you need to. Because I probably need to, too. I love you, kid. Way more than you know."

Flame let out a whine and hugged me. I cuddled him back. I understood it; he needed this, he needed me. He remained there for what seemed like hours, but was actually only a few minutes. After I was done thinking about him, I had another thing to do: another thing that was going to be tougher than breaking through the barriers to my Charmeleon.

I had to talk to the trainer.

"Dude, he's awake now. Go in. Go on, Darrell," Dave smiled. Joel flanked my left, Dave my right; I was stuck between them and couldn't get out of this now. Damn, Darrell, you deserve a medal. And a freaking Oscar for hiding back everything.

But I began to rethink that statement as I forced myself to open the ward door. Darrell Redford's body went into autopilot mode – and while my body wandered by itself, I thought not of that awesome movie about autopilots and planes I'd watched but about what in the fuck I was just about to do. Feel the need for speed my ass. I felt the need to curl up and die.

"Hey."

That voice. It was his. The man. I turned in its direction and nearly screamed, expecting to see him horribly burnt with half a face remaining and permanent physical and mental scars when – he wasn't even that bad. His arms were stained with red where the skin had been burnt off, and yellow pus bubbled underneath the exhausted-looking skin. His face was a little bit burnt thanks to my charming and delightful Charmeleon – today, I have learnt the meaning of the word 'apologetic'.

"Oh my God," I couldn't help myself. I found myself on a chair next to him – goddamnit body, switch autopilot off please before I ejector-seat your ass!

"Thought you'd say that."

"I'm...I don't know what to say," I knew it was better just to come out with it. "I know sorry doesn't mean shit. It's a word, and words don't heal anything. So I can't make your burns go away and I can't make any pain stop. I'm the trainer of the Charmeleon that b...that did this to you."

"Heh," he grinned. God, his skin stretched and creased so much when he smiled, he looked like was in agonizing white-hot pain and yet he was smiling for me. Making the effort to smile at me. I hate you, Darrell Redford. I really, really hate you right now. "Not gonna lie, I've been through worse."

"...I won't ask. I just want you to know that although it means jack shit, I'm sorry. And I'll do anything for you, right now...if you want it, that is. To make it up to you. Even though it...it won't heal you."

He put up a hand – one that was covered in bandages. I was glad to see he still had fingers. "No. In all honesty, I deserve this. What I did in Vermilion was wrong and your Charmeleon taught me a lesson..." His voice became more solemn. "I'm not from here, you see."

"...oh?"

"Yeah," his voice sounded more pained than ever and I wanted to die. Really. "I'm from a small island just off of Kanto. An' I used to be a member of Team Rocket."

"Then do you know anything about Rocket being in Pallet Town? That's where I'm from, and you better know that I'm worried as fuck."

He shrugged. "I don't. My best guess would be that they want to steal Professor Oak's Pokemon for themselves. There wouldn't be much else in Pallet Town to steal. I wouldn't worry about your family."

But still, the knot of fear returned to my stomach.

"You're a good trainer, kid," the man went on, halting me from thinking any further. "I could see it in the eyes of that Charmeleon. The loyalty and the trust. You did well to train something like that."

I said nothing. Fuck, is he just trying to make me feel guilty?

"So...as my sorry for what I did to Vermilion, I want you to have this. It's all I've got, but I wasn't...I wasn't gonna use it."

His clenched hand opened to show me a Thunderstone. The stone was green and had what seemed to be a lightning bolt pattern of shocking yellow; it was beautiful and I could have stared all day. This was what I needed to evolve Ace into a Raichu – but am I ready to do that yet? Is he ready? Does he even want to evolve?

"O-Oh," I managed to squeak out, and took the stone from him. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

"Tell your friend," he went on. "...tell your friend. The one with the...y'know, long hair...I'm sorry."

Dave.

"I will. Thanks a lot. And don't feel bad. We all do stupid things. I've done stupid things, too. And we learn from our mistakes. Listen, pal, if there's anything I can do..."

I found my hand touching his, gently.

"...you let me know. I'll be in Vermilion for the next couple of days."

He nodded. And the silence was killing me; the guilt was killing me; the emotions I couldn't describe were just a slaughter on my poor mind. But yet, a peace surrounded me; a peace that felt as if a great weight had been taken from my shoulders, and placed underground where it belonged; a peace that meant everything really was okay, at least for a while. Darrell Redford, you are one hell of a strange guy. That was alright – even for now. I was even happy to just sit with the man, and let the guilt wash away as slowly as it needed to. That was alright.