A/N: You would think that spring break would mean I wrote MORE -.- but instead I didn't and now it's May. So here is a yucky chapter. More later. Suspense and all that. AND GUYS I READ A BOOK AND THERE WAS A CHARACTER NAMED SAPPHIRE BIRCH. SERIOUSLY. THAT MADE ME WAY HAPPIER THAN IT SHOULD'VE. Short rant over. Please read on. -Silvia

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or anything else

White set the book down, only a few pages into it. "Mister Stewart did it."

"Damn you!" Black pounded a fist against the dark wood of the table. (Black, that is mahogany! /shot)

They were seated in Castelia City's library, at one of the tables tucked onto the floor—which was no so much as a complete floor but rather a loft-like story with a hole at the front, a balcony running around it, and down from there the main entrance was visible—by the balcony. The duo had stacked mystery novels of all sorts around them on that early morning, even books just about the history of detective novels. White had hoped such an atmosphere would take Black's mind off of the pressing matters he was forced to deal with due to his father's new position. For her own amusement, White had even sifted through a few of the novels, until Black had declared that the first draft of his manuscript was completed.

By "first draft," Black meant the bare skeletons of the story. The details of the crime, the main plot, the events, the characters, et cetera. He would add descriptions, side plots, and other embellishments later. Which was why Black could fit his research and notes and draft and ideas all in one crammed leather-bound notebook.

"Stewart is the simple, unsuspecting next-door neighbour of the victim," White responded easily. "He is trusted and would have access to the house. His shoe business is struggling, and the vault in the victim's house was open and vacant in the crime scene. Stewart would have wanted the money in the safe and the victim would have gotten in the way, protecting his savings so that he could leave it for his young grandchildren. Also, the murder weapon was an awl, commonly used for shoemaking. Lastly, the murderer is always introduced early on, and always unsuspecting. Rules number four and seven, respectively."

He threw his hands into the air in defeat. "There goes my story."

Suddenly guilt flushed through White. "Sorry…I didn't mean to—"

Black waved his hands. "No, no, it's fine! I'm glad you told me. I was getting tired of that story anyway; I need to write something else, and it's better if I know this now rather than later. Plus, I still need to write you into a story."

White's cheeks were steaming. "You shouldn't—"

"Don't deny it. You want to be a character in one of my novels."

"Actually—"

"Nope, it's decided!"

"Will you let me—?"

"Nope!"

White groaned. "You need to work on your style of writing, anyways. It's rather crude."

Black rolled his eyes. "At least I'm not too over-the-top. At least I don't write like someone I'm not. At least I don't imitate old poets and discuss 'the halcyon days of yore'!"

White erupted in a fit of giggling that she only smothered at Black's withering look. "Sorry," she said. "It's just that you're funny, even when you do not mean to be." Instantly, she regretted speaking her mind and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Black, seeing this, grinned widely. A genuine, goofy grin. He missed being able to simply sit and talk with White like they were two normal people.

Black glanced at his fogwatch. "I think it's about time we rendezvous with Wally and Belle. They said they'd be meeting us out by the fountain?"

"Yes. At the center of the city."

To further their investigation into Belle's past, the quartet decided to show her around the city. If she recognized something, perhaps that would aid their quest. If not, at least Belle would know her way around the city better. Besides, Black was convinced that Wally and White were only in it for the window-shopping.

"Alright then," he said, "let's go."

N stared ahead, ignoring Poppy as she walked with wide strides and arms extended on the curb beside him. He only put a hand out to stop her when the main plaza came into view, and with that came the enormous fountain and four particular individuals.

N was sure to stick to the shadows, but although she made no sound, Poppy hopped down carelessly. She stared up at N. "Why are we doing this?" she asked. "We can't do anything. Not in plain sight, with so many witnesses."

N's lip curled in displeasure. He knew she was only making excuses to prolong her mission. She was much like a flower; she appeared to be rather vibrant and could grow well with the right kind of tending, but she was so fragile that a gust of wind could take her down. In this case, the gust of wind was the reluctance to end another's life. In truth, she was weak.

But she did make a good point. There wasn't much they could do in plain daylight, even though the sky was greatly overcast.

"Tell me, Poppy," N began. "How much would you do for your friends?"

She blinked. "I have none, so I am not sure."

"Then our family?"

She considered. "Quite a deal, considering all that they have done for me."

N crossed his arms and nodded towards the fountain. "Then do tell me, what purpose serves for Black to protect those three and do their bidding, as if he's their toy soldier?"

N knew he'd phrased this correctly when Poppy furrowed her brow in confusion. "I haven't a clue." But N's smirk fell when he heard her remark, "Perhaps they are family to him."

He turned on her then. "What do you mean by that?"

"He has no brothers, nor sisters, and perhaps he believes that one must build their family," she explained, "since his cousins are not related to him in actuality. Maybe the only type of family he knows is a paper one, one he shapes for himself. Maybe these three he's come accustomed to he's assisting because he craves a family like we have. He shall do their bidding and they shall do his."

"You're far too soft, sister." N clenched his fists. They watched as Black and his friends started off from the fountain. "Do you not see how they poison him? The blonde has the accent of Kanto, and the brunette of Hoenn, and we know the truth about the boy. None of these children of monarchies will do any good to serve Black. They will only corrupt his mind. Do you want such a thing?"

Poppy shook her head. "No. You're correct. This cannot be good, especially just after his father has taken over as president."

"Exactly. You understand now. Do you know what we must do?"

"I have an idea."

So far, it had seemed as though their trip was for naught. Wally, Black, and White had taken Belle to every place that seemed memorable; the main square and the fountain, the bustling city streets, and still she had no recollection.

"I think I remember a few things from my past," Belle had said as they walked, which gave them great hope, "but they are blurred and do no match to these places."

"There's a chance that you're not from Castelia City," Wally speculated.

"What, so we now must try every village in the entire kingdom?" Black asked incredulously. "There are few places where a ship could have come from, and even if Belle is not native to them, she must remember something about her ship ride."

And so this brought them to the docks, which stuck out from the city like spokes never connecting to the other end of a wheel. Cargo ships and trading ships were the most common sights, and otherwise, ferries to Sinnoh; trips to Kanto or Johto were strictly forbidden, and relations with neutral Hoenn were complicated.

Still, White discovered one Hoenn ship sailing away and gazed at it wistfully. "I do wonder if my sisters are doing well." White had been a young girl left alone on a ship as well, but instead of being abandoned, she had been chasing after her older sister, Lyra, who was running away to Kanto. White had accidentally ended up on a vessel headed to Unova instead, and had to stay and live with her aunt. That left only her eldest sister, Jasmine, in Hoenn. White had always spoken about returning someday, but Black knew she'd taken to Unova.

They tried each and every pier, and just as they were passing one for the second time, Belle stopped in her tracks. "It looks like…yes, I know that insignia. That had to have been the trading ship I stowed on." She pointed into the distance, at a boat coming in, the wooden hull swooping upwards gracefully, splitting the water and headed straight for the docks.

It did not take long for the speedy vessel to reach land, and upon its arrival, Belle rushed purposefully forward.

"I'd say," Wally whistled at her determination, "she'd walk straight up to your father, Black, if he had information she wanted."

"She's surely spirited," Black replied. "Or perhaps just dim."

White whacked him. "Don't say such a thing." And they followed on Belle's heels.

Belle had stopped one of the men unloading the boat and had been interrogating him. "Who is the current captain of this ship?" she asked, holding herself in a way that she tried to make bold, though she was not precisely successful.

"Captain Chili," the man replied, suspicious. Of course, he probably assumed such a little lady meant no harm. "He's not the finest sailor, but a decent leader."

Belle's eyes narrowed. Clearly she didn't recognize the name. "Who was the captain before him?"

"His brother, Captain Cress." The man chuckled. "Captain Chili once joked that he'd one day have to pass the trade on to his brother Cilan, who's an even worse mate, but works with horses for a living."

"Captain Cress…" Belle repeated. "Do you know where one might find him?"

"My apologies, young miss. Captain Cress passed about two years ago."

Belle's mouth dropped open. Before she could question him further, another man on board shouted at him to quit dillydallying and return to work.

Belle turned to her friends solemnly as they left the ports. "I'm certain that Captain Cress was the captain that found me. The ship's crew must have changed in all those years, for I didn't recognize a man I saw. I'll not know where to find any of the old crew, and so I doubt that anyone can tell me who left me on that ship."

White put a hand on her arm comfortingly. She would despise not knowing where she came from, who she really belonged to. She was thankful that she wasn't in Belle's predicament, but she still wanted to help.

"We'll find the answers," Wally reassured them, though they all knew they didn't have enough clues.

"For certain," Black added with a nod, and Belle glanced over at him with a sort of awe that White recognized well. And Black held her gaze for just a little too long.

It was then that White pieced together something that saddened her to the core. Maybe Black was not helping Belle simply because he loved mysteries; maybe it was for another reason. Maybe he wanted to know a beauty such as Belle better, and maybe the feeling was requited.

It was too many "maybes" to be sure, but an ugly feeling bubbled up inside White nonetheless. She did not blame Black or Belle for the feelings that might have risen between them in the brief time they'd known each other. White blamed herself for believing she'd had a chance at all. She had built walls ever since she was young, to prevent anyone from getting in, but she'd let them down for Black. And she was so unwise to believe that he may return her feelings, even after they spent so long together and he'd never shown any sign of it. She still wasn't sure that Black might fancy Belle, but now she really saw the truth that she'd been hiding from herself; he wouldn't ever consider a plain Jane like herself.

"I think I'll be off now," she told her friends, though the sun was just beginning to set behind the clearing clouds. It dipped towards the horizon like her false hopes.

Black raised his eyebrows. "But there is still time, and still so many more places to explore."

White shrugged. "You all go on. I'll be going." She didn't let anyone protest further. She only calmly walked away.

But once she was out of sight, she couldn't keep up her façade. She fully ran towards her place, her lonely tower, only one thought racing through her throbbing mind: How could I be so foolish?!

It took all her strength not to break down completely, but she was calmer once she reached the top floor of the tower. It wasn't too high up that she got disoriented by her fear of heights, but enough to clear her mind. She stood at one of the yawning windows—there was no glass, so the breeze filtered through reassuringly—and watched the city below and the patches of sky behind the clouds as they turned from orange to pink. As she watched, the overcast drifted away like strips of fog, leaving behind traces of clouds. She didn't want to think about anything. She just wanted to watch the sky.

It had just shifted to an eerie lavender-grey dusk, when she heard a noise. Scuffling. Footsteps on the stairs. White wasn't quite sure why, maybe it was being so close to such a large, high, open window, or maybe it was the approaching night, but the sounds unnerved her. Someone was coming, and something deep within her told her that their visit would not be benign. She heard something scrape against the rough stone walls and picked up a stray brick, its rough surface biting into her palm. She brandished it like a weapon, not knowing how much good it would do.

The footsteps halted rather suddenly, and White was beginning to wonder if she'd imagined it.

Just as soon as she'd let out a breath of air, a cloaked figure burst out from the steps and was instantly upon her. She let out a screech and tried to fend them off, but the attacker had a dagger and all that she had was a brick. Still, she managed to rake a rough edge down the crook's forearm until blood beaded at the pale skin. The assailant yelped and flipped away. White caught a glimpse of light hair, but still could not see a face beneath the black hood.

Still, the criminal was relentless. He was circling back quickly. White tried to throw the brick at his head, but he dodged swiftly, and it clattered to the ground. She was unarmed against a trained fighter with a blade.

Her heart could not beat faster. The room seemed to grow darker, murky clouds consuming the sky once again, enveloping them in shadows. White kicked at the attacker when he came closer, landing her foot against a soft stomach, but no matter how much it hurt, it could not break the aggressor's resolve. Someone wanted to hurt her. Why?

She resorted to scratching and punching, but she was weak. Her attacker didn't even seem to be that big, but he was swift and knew how to hit where it hurt. He kneed her in the hip, slashed her arm and grazed her stomach with his blade. She knew she could not let him knock her out, even though she saw stars before her eyes as the blows continued, for then what would stop him from tossing her out the window? She would never awaken.

But she was backed against the window. She couldn't take another step backwards, or else she would plunge through the open air, down to the ground. Her head spun just at the thought.

Her fears were confirmed when her attacker kicked her feet out from under her, and she fell backwards. For a moment, she thought she was done for, but he changed his mind and yanked her back inside, quickly pinning her to the ground. By then, White was resigned to her fate. She was so bruised she was not sure she could stand, and there was no way to fight back. She was going to die. Her attacker put the edge of the dagger to her throat…

And then stood. Frustrated, he threw the dagger to the ground, kicked White one last time, and bolted down the steps of the tower.

White tried to process what had just happened. She'd almost died, but a flash of mercy had jarred her aggressor. Or maybe he had not the will to end it. There was no way to know why she was allowed to live, but she wouldn't live long. Her entire body was sore, and she knew that if she didn't move, she would bleed to death. Still, she could not prevent it when darkness swallowed her.