18.5

[8:22 PM. Foothills of Mt. Silver. Mt. Silver. The same day.]

Ian found her staring at the mountain.

He had followed her since the end of the meeting; she had gone straight to the hospital. Her Nidoking had not made it.

She stood so that she cut the chilly mountain wind, her jacket and scarf fluttering in the wind. Ian took a step forward.

"I've spent so much time here, yet I've never gone to the top."

"Do you think he's really up there?"

"Werner went up, once, I think. Never said anything about it. I'd like to think he's up there."

Ian stretched. "I'd get bored after a couple years."

"Must get lonely up there, I bet."

"He's got his pokemon. I'm sure he wouldn't be too lonely. He must be at least part pokemon by now."

Moira gave a small laugh. "The world's really falling to pieces, isn't it?"

"Looks like it."

First Celadon, then Tin tower—nowhere was safe. Ian shuddered at the thought. He had only been to Ecruteak once when he was very little. His father had taken him. "Everyone should visit this place once in their life," he had said. Now that was impossible. The fallout would be tremendous, Ian imagined. If Johto wasn't already inflamed about the allegations, they would not take this lying down.

"Thing's aren't gonna be the same, huh?"

Ian shook his head.

"Werner always talked about this happening one day. How we're too different to live in peace. I always thought he was being dramatic, but I guess it's his job to think about stuff like that."

"It's not the end of the world."

"It might as well be."

A flock of Fearow left a fir tree in unison, flying away into the night sky. "I heard about your Nidoking."

"At least that Bastard got what was coming to him."

Ian raised an eyebrow. "He died. Werner told me."

"Well, we won, so that's got to count for something."

She turned to Ian with something between a half-smile and a pout. "Did we?"

"We should head back."

She began to wander aimlessly towards the mountain. Each footstep seemed light, yet infinitely slow. "What is it about this place that draws trainers?"

Ian gazed up at the mountain, craning his neck. Tucked away in the dark clouds of the cool evening, the summit seemed a lifetime away. Ian imagined all the nameless trainers who stood where he stood and scaled the mountain. What did drive them? What called all manner of people and pokemon to this spot? He could feel a certain power in the wind. This place was ancient. This place was old.

"Because it's there."

Moira laughed. "Because it's there."

Ian move to put his hand on her shoulder but she turned and took it into her own. He felt the warmth of her palms and for a moment tried to pull back but she held on tight. He felt his cheeks flush.

"Moira?"

"Are you coming or not?"

She let go of his hand and began the slow walk towards the summit.