In her dream, Candela was a child again, and her mother was pressing a cold pouch of frozen vegetables to the swollen lump on her brow from where the older kid had clocked her. The cold gave her a headache, but her mother had insisted. Candela was in too much trouble to argue about it, so she sat still on the porch step, listening to the drone of summer locusts.
"Are you ready to talk about it?" Her mother's voice had a low, rough quality to it that reminded Candela of river rapids. "Was it because of that boy again?"
Candela spat into the garden. She'd seen tough guys do something like that in movies. "Some big kids were throwing rocks at a metapod, and Spark got mad about it, and he told them they'd better stop. So they threw rocks at him instead, and he started crying, and it was really loud, and he didn't even try to fight back."
"And that's when you stepped in," her mother said. "You were trying to protect him."
"He was just being loud and annoying, that's all. I was just sick of hearing him cry like a big baby. So I punched one of the big kids, and then he punched me, and then the new kid ran off and tattled," Candela said, sneering at the memory of the white-haired child who'd just moved to the neighborhood and was already the biggest snitch on the block.
"Maybe the new kid had the right idea," her mother said, lifting the vegetable packet away for a moment to check the size of the lump. "You can't solve every problem with your fists, Candela. Sometimes that makes things worse. It was kind of you to want to help Spark, but-"
"I did NOT want to help him!" Candela protested. "He's an idiot, and I woulda punched him next if that other kid hadn't brought grown-ups into it. He's stupid and he's weak and I hate him. He's always doing dumb stuff like that and everything makes him cry. I can't stand him!"
Her mother looked angry for a moment, but then she softened up, and a sadness that Candela knew all too well entered her dark brown eyes. "He's a little like Joule, isn't he?"
Tears immediately flooded Candela's eyes, and she swatted her mother away. "He's nothing like Joule! I hate him!"
She fled from the porch, her sight blurred by tears, ignoring her mother's voice calling her back. She ran until her legs felt like jelly and her throat felt like fire, past the post office, past the flower shop, all the way to the hill on the other side of town.
Joule's hill. His favorite place to play.
Or, it used to be. Now, the broad, flowery hill was marked by an ugly white sign that proclaimed it to be the future site of the region's most advanced pokémon laboratory. Candela kicked the sign, which only resulted in a stubbed toe. She sank to the ground, and the wildflowers swayed over her as she wept into the dirt.
Spark was nothing like her little brother. Joule was kind and sensitive and sweet, and he always wanted to help their mom take care of the injured pokémon that came into the pokémon center she worked at. He didn't care if the pokémon was a tiny, low level weedle or a mighty charizard; he loved and cared for them all. He cried a lot, but it wasn't like how Spark cried. Candela wasn't irritated by Joule's tears. She knew that his heart was too big for the world, and every hurt he saw was a hurt he felt.
But he didn't cry when he got sick. He smiled and he laughed, even when he had to go to the hospital, even when he lost his halo of dark, curly hair. He didn't like it when Candela cried, and she thought that was unfair. He did everything he could to dry her tears, right until the end, right until that last day with him.
He was five years old, and he had a smile like a summer morning, but the world favored the strong.
Candela sobbed until her stomach ached and her cheeks were raw from the tears. Joule. Like the word 'jewel,' like a precious stone. A treasure. Every day, she lost a little more of him, she thought about him a little less, and it made her feel sick.
No. Spark wasn't like Joule. There could never be anyone like Joule.
And then a wind unlike anything Candela had ever felt swept over her, knocking the flowers, scattering petals that fell and stuck to her wet face. The wind was sudden and hot and unnatural, and it startled Candela out of her melancholy. She stumbled to her feet, dizzy from crying so intensely, and looked wildly around for the source of the gust.
Although she had never seen it outside of the archaic illustrations in her textbooks, Candela knew without a doubt that enormous pokémon before her was Moltres. The legendary bird of fire had landed only a few short meters away, so close that Candela had to shield her eyes against the brightness of its flames. It towered above her, shimmering the air around it with its heat, staring at her down the length of its beak. She could feel its power rolling over her, so intense she could barely breathe.
And she woke up.
The hypno sat across from her in the shadows, watching. Candela moved to stand up, but found that she was bound to a stone seat, metal cuffs trapping her wrists on rock-hewn armrests. She rattled against the restraints and tried to kick her legs, but discovered them to be cuffed as well. All she could see was the hypno and herself within a small circle of light coming from somewhere behind her. The rest of the room lay in total, impenetrable darkness.
She fixed the hypno with a seething glare. "What? You weren't hungry enough to eat that dream? Was it not up to your standards?"
The hypno looked away, and Candela felt briefly guilty. If dreams had flavors, she was sure that one would be bitter. She had that dream every so often, an inescapable memory that replayed even when she knew she was dreaming. She hated reliving the agony of that first year without Joule. Even the spectacular memory of Moltres couldn't ease the pain of it. No one had believed her. They accused her of begging for attention. When Spark claimed to have seen Zapdos a few months later, she'd lashed out at him for being a copy-caterpie.
Spark… Blanche…
Dr. Dillinger's words reverberated in her head. She'd been so casual, so completely uncaring, so bored. They're dead. I killed them. Candela's stomach turned. After seeing the horrific contents of the doctor's binders, she knew that madwoman had it in her. But she couldn't believe it. She couldn't imagine a world without them.
She couldn't survive another loss like this.
"Have a good nap?"
Dr. Dillinger leaned around Candela's chair and drew a long-nailed finger down her arm. Candela jerked, trying to escape her touch, but only succeeded in bruising her wrists. Dillinger chuckled and strolled over to her hypno. He flinched when she raised her hand toward him to pat his head.
"A dreamless sleep this time, huh? Hm, that's no fun," she said with a fake pout.
Candela met the hypno's eyes, but they revealed nothing. Had he just lied to Dr. Dillinger? Was that even possible? And if it was, why would he do it?
"Not so much fire in you anymore. Not much left to fight for, is there?" said Dr. Dillinger, frowning at Candela.
"Leave me alone," Candela said in a voice much smaller than she'd intended.
Dr. Dillinger clasped her hands together in delight. "Oh, my! I really scared you, didn't I? Hypno, do you suppose I went too far? I hate to see the mighty Candela in such a deflated state."
Candela wanted to be angry. She wanted to rage at the doctor for the terrible things she'd done. She wanted to find the strength to break free from her trap and break every bone in Dr. Dillinger's body. But for some reason, she felt completely sapped of energy. Dr. Dillinger was right. Without her friends, what did she have left to fight for? Her eyes bulged as she remembered.
"What have you done with my pokémon?" Candela demanded, gripping the ends of her armrests.
"Ah, the embers of passion still glow within you after all," said Dr. Dillinger. "Your pokémon are awaiting valuation."
"And what does that mean?" Candela growled.
"It means I'll deal with them after I'm finished here," said Dr. Dillinger, reaching into her pocket. Her smug expression vanished. Her hand darted into another pocket, and then she started patting herself down with both hands, becoming increasingly frantic.
She turned on the hypno, and the bruises that had formed beneath her eyes thanks to her broken nose made her all the more terrifying. "Where is it? What did you do?"
The hypno raised his arms to protect himself and backed up. The pendulum swung, but it was clear by his cowering posture that he wasn't intending to use it. Dr. Dillinger didn't see it that way.
"Don't you dare hypnotize me, you worthless excuse for a pokémon," she said in a dark, venomous voice.
Candela pulled against the restraints, but she knew there was nothing she could do. She wanted to scream at the hypno to run, but feared that would only make things worse. She was helpless.
Just as suddenly as Dr. Dillinger's rage had appeared, it dissipated. She checked her posture, brushed a long lock of hair out of her face, and released a calm, slow breath. She smiled at the hypno.
"I apologize for my outburst," Dr. Dillinger said, and she sounded surprisingly sincere. "I've misplaced something important, and I'll simply need to retrace my steps before we proceed with your history lesson, Candela."
Candela turned her head and eyed Dr. Dillinger skeptically. "What history lesson?"
Dr. Dillinger threw up her hands in exasperation. "Yes, exactly. I suppose it's not critical, but I thought you'd find it interesting. We'll put a pin in it for now. Don't go anywhere, my dear."
Dr. Dillinger swept off into the shadows, her dirty lab coat fluttering behind her. The hypno turned to follow.
"Wait!" Candela squeaked. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but she wasn't ready to be left alone.
The hypno hesitated and looked over his shoulder at her.
"Please don't go," Candela whispered. "Please don't leave me here."
The hypno closed his eyes and continued after his master, leaving Candela alone in the dark with her thoughts.
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AN: 1) I formally apologize for the phrase "copy-caterpie." 2) Characteristics I share with Dr. Dillinger: chubby cheeks, a hypno as my favorite buddy pokémon, and a desire for everyone to suffer.