The room was bright and quiet and still. The sharp, antiseptic smell of the hospital mingled with the softly sweet scent of iris and lilies, and Spark worried that he was still in the field of wildflowers, that he was imagining things. But then he noticed the crayon drawing beneath the flower vase, folded to stand on its own like a card, of a little girl with black pom-pom pigtails next to a round-bodied meowth. Little Hannah Davies and Muffin…
Spark tried to shift his sore body, but it felt like all of his blood had been replaced with lead. He focused on moving his fingers, a task which should have been easy. As he flexed his left hand, he realized it was holding something warm. He rolled his head to see what was there.
Candela snoozed with her hand in his, sitting sideways in a chair she'd pulled next to Spark's bed, her legs kicked over one of the arms. Rutabaga curled in her lap, her lightning-bolt tail wrapped around herself. Both snored faintly, Candela with a bit of a rumble, Rutabaga with a sighing squeak. Candela's face was crisscrossed with small bandages, and her arms were wrapped with white cloth. She wore a baggy T-shirt and plain sweatpants, the kind she usually wore as pajamas.
As if she had felt his eyes on her, Candela stirred. She arched her back to stretch and yawned, causing Rutabaga to wake and yawn as well. Her sleepy gaze fell on Spark.
"Oh, hey, Spark," she slurred.
Then Candela's eyes widened and she jolted upright, swinging her legs to the floor and spilling Rutabaga out of her lap. "Spark!"
"Hey," Spark said, but it came out in a hissing whisper. His mouth felt like it was lined with sandpaper.
Rutabaga scrambled onto the bed and pushed her nose into Spark's hand so he could stroke her soft fur. He was pretty sure non-medical pokémon weren't permitted to roam free in the hospital like this, but he was glad that Rutabaga was getting away with it.
"I thought you were never going to wake up," Candela said, squeezing Spark's hand. "Well, I knew you would eventually, but it's been almost five days!"
Spark smiled crookedly. "Well, you know, I like to sleep in."
"Phew," Candela sighed. "It's the real you. I thought you might have been coming around yesterday. You were muttering something creepy about 'the darkness.' I think it was a little too much for your mom. She said the lighting was giving her a headache and she hasn't been back since."
"My parents were here?"
Candela rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she spoke. "Yeah, and they made sure to make a scene about how heroic you were and how much they've suffered this week, particularly when there were cameras nearby. Your mom can really turn on the waterworks when she wants to."
When Spark didn't comment, she continued. "I'm sorry, Spark. Your family just gets on my nerves. I'm sure they've had a miserable week worrying about you. My mom and dad have been more or less glued to me ever since they got here. It takes a half hour of arguing to convince them I'll be OK on my own while they grab lunch or pick something up for me. Hypno has been clinging pretty close to them, which I think is helping at least my mom. Gives her something to take care of aside from me, I guess. He's been nervous around all the medical equipment and people in lab coats, but he won't go in a pokéball. I think he's intrigued by being in a lab-like place that's for healing, not harming."
"Where's Blanche? Are they OK?"
Candela wilted. "They're pretty beat up. Broken ribs and frostbite, not to mention general bumps and bruises. They're awake, but not released yet. I've been splitting my time between Blanche and you, but I get this feeling that Blanche isn't always happy to have me around. They're trying to hide it, but I know they're tense when I'm in the room."
Candela scratched at the wrapping around her forearm, choosing her next words. "I'm not oblivious. I know what must have happened. When we went through the door, into the field, I tasted something bitter in my mouth. It was Waik's sedative, wasn't it?"
Spark wished she would look up at him again, but she kept her eyes latched to the bandage on her arm. There was no point in dancing around what had happened. "How much do you remember?"
"We were in the magma chamber, negotiating with Team Rocket," Candela said. "The next thing I know, we're at the portal."
Spark tried to maintain a neutral expression so Candela wouldn't read the full extent of his surprise. He'd expected her to remember at least some part of her wrathful transformation. He didn't want to tell her. He was tired, so tired. His stomach felt warm and prickly and sharp, and it seemed like his wound was drawing all his energy into it, draining him physically and emotionally.
"Blanche says they don't remember much either," Candela continued with a wan smile. "Everybody wants to know what happened, and it's mostly fallen to me to answer, but I only have part of the story. Plus, I'm tired of thinking about everything we saw in the mountain. I'm not eager to relive it over and over. So, I understand if you're not ready to talk about it either. I don't mean to grill you for answers to ugly questions five minutes after getting you back. But…"
Candela's voice broke a little, and she paused to center herself. Spark had a good idea of what she was about to ask, but waited patiently for her to pose the question herself.
Candela's sunflower eyes finally returned to meet Spark's. "Did I do this to you?"
Spark shook his head. He tried to speak, but his dry mouth slowed him down.
"What about Blanche? Did I hurt them?"
"It wasn't really you," Spark managed. He wanted to elaborate. He wanted to explain everything, to transmit all the information directly to Candela without the agonizing delay of speech, because there was so much more to his answer.
But it didn't matter. She already knew the truth in its simplest form, and it was devastating. Candela's body bent with the weight of the knowledge, and she covered her horrified grimace with her hand.
"I'm so sorry," she whimpered.
"It wasn't you, Candela. It may have been your body, but it wasn't you," Spark said. He started to sit up, intending to reach a comforting arm to her, but was stopped by the instant, stabbing pain that bloomed in his gut. He sucked in a breath and reclined again, frustrated that he couldn't give her all the answers right away, that he couldn't even provide a firm arm to steady her.
Candela pulled her hand away from her mouth and balled it into a fist. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a few seconds, released a slow, calm breath, and straightened back up in her seat. She was recovering. She was taking that overwhelming flood of emotion, and she was channeling it away.
"OK," she said, quietly but assuredly.
"OK?"
"Yeah. OK. It's a lot to process, but it's OK."
She smiled again, in that way that held a hundred different meanings. There was sorrow and guilt there, but also peace. Spark must have been staring for too long, because Candela turned a bit to the side and quirked her brow.
"What?"
"You're different," Spark said.
Candela pulled her head back uncertainly. "Good different or…?"
"Good different," Spark said.
Candela chuckled. "You're different, too. I think we all are. I mean, how do you go through what we did and not come back changed?"
Rutabaga nuzzled closer to Spark's side and he massaged her velvety ear with his thumb. So much was different, and so much was still the same. Through the haze of exhaustion and medication in his mind, Spark recalled Zapdos' warning.
"The birds are gone, aren't they?" Spark asked.
Candela narrowed her eyes. "They left this morning. How did you know they were here? Do you remember Zapdos carrying you?"
Spark shook his head. "Can we get Blanche in here?"
"Shouldn't be a problem," Candela said, somewhat suspiciously. "You're still in rough shape, Spark. If you're not ready to talk about what happened, you don't have to. Maybe you should rest a little more first."
"I'll be fine," Spark said. "There's a lot you need to know, and the sooner I tell you, the better."
§
It wasn't as easy as bringing Blanche to the room. Dr. Davies insisted on spending some time with Spark first to assess his condition. She wasn't keen on him hosting Professor Willow, Blanche, and Candela in his room so early in his recovery, but eventually he wore her down with promises of rest and obedience afterward.
"Very well," Dr. Davies relented, crossing her arms. "But if you make things worse for yourself, you won't just be creating more work for me, you'll also be disappointing Hannah."
"I'd never dream of disappointing her," Spark said.
Dr. Davies casually tucked a tight black curl of hair behind her ear, giving herself an opportunity to inconspicuously glance toward the door.
"There are a lot of people who want to see you, Spark. Your parents, most significantly, now that you're conscious."
Spark did want to see them. Their relationship was tumultuous, but they were his parents, after all. However, they could stand to wait for just a little longer.
"There's another family I need to meet with first," Spark said.
"Of course," Dr. Davies said knowingly. "I'll keep the Voltas occupied for a while."
And so Professor Willow, Blanche, and Candela were the only three allowed into the room, just as the colors through Spark's window shifted to the warm magenta of a setting sun.
They were a sorry-looking lot, there was no denying that. The professor's face was gaunt from lack of sleep, and he pushed Blanche in a wheelchair. Blanche's hair cascaded behind them, loose and flowing, not bound by its usual tie. Beneath the hospital gown, Spark glimpsed the overlapping bandages on Blanche's body and worried about the extent of the frostbite Candela had mentioned. And yet, they all smiled as brightly as if it were a holiday.
"Spark!" Blanche's smile was as radiant as it was rare and was nearly too big for their face. Something about it spurred Spark to giddy laughter, which spread to Candela as she plopped down at the foot of his bed, and then to the professor. It hurt to laugh, but it hurt to do just about anything, and the ecstasy of the reunion was worth the pain.
For a few minutes, they simply basked in each other's presence, silently sharing the same grateful sentiment. They were together, and they were safe, and maybe it could stay that way forever. Spark wished that could be the case. He wished he had a choice. He wished he didn't have to tell them his story, but the story belonged to them as well. It was a burden for them all to carry, coupled with a warning they'd all have to heed.
"I'm so glad to have you home," Professor Willow said, placing his hand gently on Spark's shoulder.
"Not as glad as I am to be home," Spark replied.
He wasn't comfortable being the center of attention, splayed out in a stiff, chemical-scented hospital bed, but seeing all of their faces again was like stepping into the first sunny day after a brutal winter. It was almost enough to forget his wounds and the tubes pricking his inner elbow and the scratchy texture of the hospital gown.
"We've told him everything up to the magma chamber," Candela said.
Rutabaga twitched her tail uneasily and Spark scratched beneath her chin to calm her. She had refused to leave his side, despite Dr. Davies' chastising. It was hard to believe that a few days ago, he'd been convinced he'd never see her again.
"Yes, Candela and Blanche left me with a bit of a cliffhanger," Willow said with an incredulous smirk. "Are you sure you're ready to continue?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," Spark said. "Are you?"
Willow, Candela, and Blanche looked to each other for solidarity. They all knew that the rest of the story was not easy to hear, but it had to be told.
"Go ahead, Spark," Willow said.
And so Spark told them everything, leaving no detail untouched. His audience sat in rapt silence as he described Candela's wrath, the collapse of the floor, Blanche's ice shield. He spoke truthfully despite the pain in Candela's eyes and the way one of her hands gripped the other as though it didn't belong to her, as if the fist that struck Blanche with such force couldn't belong to her. He monitored the fleeting micro-expressions across Blanche's placid face and the way Willow's breathing changed with every mention of the villainous woman he'd once been so close to.
By the time he was describing the start of his climb up the inside of the chamber, Spark felt winded. He paused to catch his breath, frustrated by the inconvenience of his broken body. The others all had questions on their tongues, and he could sense that they were barely holding themselves back.
When Spark resumed his story, he left out more of the particulars. He glossed over his confrontation with his inner self and hurried the narrative along, fearing he wouldn't have the energy to address his friends' inevitable inquiries. Besides, his conversation with himself was a private one. That part of the tale belonged to Spark alone.
He concluded with the last thing he truly recalled before his memory of the event turned foggy and disjointed: bringing the three birds into his mind.
"It was like diving to the bottom of a deep pool," Spark said. "I felt a pressure in my ears, and the world sounded muted. I remember holding the key, but I didn't feel like I belonged in my body. There was no room left for me. It's hazy after that, but I guess you guys know the rest of the story."
The mood had shifted while Spark was focused on his memories. Willow's hand was over his mouth, his brows drawn low and tight with concentration. Blanche's slim eyes were opened a little too wide as they stared at a spot on the wall across from them. Candela stood from the foot of his bed, slack-jawed.
"What? Did I miss something?" Spark asked. His voice had faded while he spoke, and was now little more than a breathy whisper.
"You brought all the birds into your head? Are you serious?" Candela asked, beginning to pace.
"I thought you knew," Spark said. Of everything in his story, this was the part that surprised them?
"We should have known," Blanche said, ending their staring contest with the wall. "When we snapped out of our affected states, I assumed it was because the birds were concentrating on the portal and loosening their grips on our minds. I thought Zapdos had taken control of Spark's body, like Moltres had with Candela."
"But that's not what happened with me and Moltres. It was both of us and neither of us… I think…" Candela said.
"I didn't know that at the time," Blanche reminded her.
Candela paused to lean on the foot of the bed again. "I guess I thought the same thing, or that the key was affecting Spark differently than it did with Blanche when we first opened the door into the mountain."
"Didn't you say having just one legendary bird sharing headspace with you was extremely dangerous?" Willow asked Blanche, scratching nervously at the scruff that had formed on his cheek.
"It was enough to drive us mad," Blanche said.
"Guys, calm down."
Willow, Blanche, and Candela looked at Spark as he spoke as if they'd forgotten he was in the room. He chuckled at their surprised faces.
"I'm here, right? I'm here and alive and I feel more like myself than I have in a long damn time," he went on.
Candela relaxed a bit, but Blanche was unconvinced.
"The birds could have dealt serious damage to your mind, and we have no way of knowing the extent of it," Blanche said.
"Yes you do," Spark countered. "You have me. You have my words. I think I'm going to be OK, but if not, I have you to help me out, don't I?"
Blanche considered for a few seconds, but then smiled. It wasn't the same smile as before, but it was still pure. "Yes. You have all of us."
Candela scooped Rutabaga into her arms and ruffled her fur. "Thank you, Spark."
"For what? Are you stealing Rootie?"
The raichu lashed her tail, prepared to fend off the threat of theft.
Candela laughed and hugged Rutabaga tighter. "I wouldn't dare! No, Spark. Thank you for saving our lives."
"And for not dying in the process," Blanche said.
"Against all odds," Willow added, quietly. "The three of you are going to put me in an early grave."
"Come on, Professor. You know you need us around to protect you from your evil exes," Candela said.
Willow winced, but tried to smile at the jab.
"Maybe a little early to joke about that, Candy," Spark said.
"No, it's alright. It was another life ago," Willow said. "I'm just glad to have you back. All of you."
Blanche cleared their throat authoritatively. "I think we've discussed all we can for the moment. Dr. Davies will be back to shoo us out any minute now. We should let Spark rest."
"Hold on. There's something else I need to tell you," Spark said.
He'd half expected some pushback, but everyone waited on him to proceed. Blanche was right about Dr. Davies. Spark would need to convey all he could as quickly as possible, despite his raw throat and heavy eyelids.
"Zapdos visited me. Psychically. While I was out. I know how crazy that sounds, but we've all had to believe a lot of crazy stuff lately. It came to warn me about Team Rocket."
Blanche clasped their hands in their lap. "Are you sure this wasn't a dream, Spark?"
"I'm positive," Spark said. "The birds apparently grow stronger when bonded to a human, so they chose us to pair with in the hopes that together, we could stop Team Rocket. But Zapdos is worried that we were forced to bond too closely too soon. After all, the weird things that happened to the Aka, Ao, and Kiiro nations and their leaders were probably the result of an unstable bond. That's what Zapdos thinks, anyway."
"I thought we already defeated Team Rocket," Candela said. "Or at least enough of them to make them think twice about confronting us again."
"Their organization has likely expanded over the years," Willow said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Joan joined one of their branches early on in their development, and she made it seem like there were dozens of other Team Rocket cells across the region even back then. There have been whispers of the growing ranks of Rockets here and there, but they've posed no great public threat so far. The few people who know about them consider them petty criminals. I've been suspicious for years, ever since Joan told me about their extensive network of secret labs, but a decade passed without me hearing anything more about it. I assumed Team Rocket had dissolved into nothing more than a gang of small-time thugs united by name alone."
Spark struggled to figure out who Willow meant by "Joan" before finally realizing it was Dr. Dillinger's first name. It was disconcerting to hear the professor refer to her so casually.
"The birds sensed some kind of darkness surrounding Team Rocket, according to Zapdos," Spark continued. "Whatever they're up to, it's bad news, and it's bigger than Dillinger's project in the Akanoir Mountains. Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres want us to help stop them."
Blanche rolled a lock of their snowy hair between their fingers as they processed the information. Seeing their hair down like this was strange. They looked softer this way, younger.
"Did Zapdos give you any details about this so-called darkness?" they asked.
"Frustratingly, no," Spark said.
"What about a timeline? What happens next?" Candela asked.
Spark rolled his head on the pillow. "No timeline. Just a vague, ominous warning. I think the birds aren't sure what to expect."
The room was quiet as everyone contemplated the message. Spark didn't want to leave them on a sour note, but a fog was rolling over his mind, and the blessed drip of pain medication could only work so many wonders on the rest of him.
"It's going to be OK," he said. "Right now, all we can do is heal. Whatever happens next, we'll face it together."
Candela placed Rutabaga back on the bed, where she huffily groomed her tousled fur before snuggling against Spark again. "Spark's right. We should focus on ourselves for now. We're not facing down a criminal empire looking like this."
"What's that about criminal empires?"
Dr. Davies had slipped into the room as quietly as a shadow. As she approached the bed, Spark noticed the tagalong on her heels. Hypno courteously maneuvered around Blanche's wheelchair so he could stand next to Spark. He'd been cleaned and healed, and his eyes sparkled with joy and vitality.
"Hypster! You look great!" Spark said.
Hypno bashfully covered his face with his hands.
"It's like he's a different pokémon," Dr. Davies said, putting words to Spark's thoughts. "A few days ago, I was certain he wouldn't adapt to this place. He was so skittish."
Hypno uncovered his face and gazed around the room, taking in the details of the machinery. As Candela had said before, the concept that scientific equipment could be used to help people and pokémon must have been foreign to him before. Now, he was awestruck by the good that could be done by humans in lab coats.
"You know I'm here to kick you out, right?" Dr. Davies said to Spark's guests as she set a clipboard down on a counter.
"Yeah, yeah," Candela said with a limp wave of her hand.
Dr. Davies planted her hands firmly on her hips. "Excuse me? I fixed you, and I can unfix you, team leader or not."
"Sheesh, understood," Candela said, playing along with the bit. "Can we at least say goodbye?"
"Make it quick. You'll see each other again soon, I'm sure," Dr. Davies said.
Candela sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over Spark in the closest thing to a hug that could be accomplished under the circumstances. Blanche leaned forward, despite the pain it must have caused them, so they could hold Spark's wrist.
"We love you, you know," Candela whispered.
"I know," said Spark, a lump forming in his throat. "I love you, too."
"Come on, don't start crying," Candela said, but her eyes were already wet.
Blanche squeezed Spark's wrist. They didn't need to speak; their eyes conveyed a thousand words of love and hope and peace.
"OK, everyone," Willow said softly. "Let's go."
Candela stood up and rested her arm on Hypno's head. Willow cupped his hand against the side of Spark's face, like a parent might do with a sick child. Spark could tell the professor had much left to say, but wasn't about to oppose Dr. Davies. The gentle touch would suffice for now.
Blanche released their hold on Spark and allowed Willow to take his station behind their wheelchair. He could feel sleep starting to envelope him as they departed, but he wanted to linger in the moment for just a while longer. Whatever happened next, he had his family's love, and they had his. He had so much to give them. Stories and comfort, patience and humor, kindness in the face of an unkind world. The future fanned in front of Spark in a million mysterious directions, but it didn't matter what course he sailed. He would have his siblings with him, and that would be enough.
§
AN: Man, this was another one of those chapters that was difficult to write. It's been strange and busy around here lately. Thunderstorms and tornado warnings in February (I'm in the U.S. Midwest, mind you), a persistent cold that I can't seem to shake… It's like I'm being haunted by my own stories! I'll let you know if Kelsey and I make friends with a legendary bird while we're out searching for Johto pokémon this week.
This is the last "proper" chapter in Evils of Truth and Love. There are some loose ends to tie up, however, and so I'll conclude with an epilogue soon. See ya then!