Chapter Four:
High Treeason
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Claire wished she were on her own two feet for the hundreth time as she took in the three Aqua members. They were all dressed in standard grunt uniform, but there was something off about them; they didn't give off the vibe of the awkward, gangly grunts Claire had seen in Fortree. She glanced aside to see Mike was still breathing hard, arm awkwardly set around Sophie's taller shoulders. Hemlock stood in front of him, protective and confused, those red eyes hopping from Aqua members to Mike.
"May we help you?" Sophie said blandly, like she had been presented with something that hadn't marked her in the least. Claire felt impressed with her stoicity once more, and this time allowed herself to be.
The woman who had greeted them flicked her wet hair out of her face, hiking her chin. The two men behind her didn't move, staring at Hemlock with frowning brows.
"You have something that belongs to us," she said. "We want it back."
"Your dignity?" Claire spat, and was immensely pleased to see the woman's eyes narrow at her briefly before she smoothed down her expression into arrogance once more. "We have nothing of yours. Go back to your headquarters and leave us be."
"You obviously don't understand who you are talking to, little girl," the woman replied, acid on her tongue. Then her eyes slithered from Claire's blue eyes to Mike's pale ones, a glint in them. "Don't make us smack you around any more – it's a waste of time and health. Return your little viper and give us back the master key card you took. It can be that easy."
Mike, who seemed surprised to have been addressed, only made a confused face at the woman. His free hand was soothing his elbow; Claire assumed he had fallen on it when he had skidded towards them. His other one fiddled with his pokéball.
"Salope! You obviously have the wrong person—" Claire began, but was interrupted by Sophie, who held a hand in the air. The irritation set in, but Claire hushed, if only because she was curious to hear what the brown-haired girl had to say.
"While I am not at all interested in your endeavors, I am fairly certain no one of this group has the item you are looking for. We have been occupied with survival, and," Claire could see Sophie's head cock just slightly, the condescending tone almost tangible, "I would advise you to search for a place to hide as well. I can't talk for myself, but the three trainers who are by my side are skilled enough to avoid certain death. Seeing as I am with them, the protection reaches me as well." Sophie brushed her long hair over her shoulder. "Do you feel confident in your skills?"
The woman was smiling patronizingly, still playing with her minimized pokéball. Sophie went on:
"I'm asking not because I'm reticent to battle you, but because our group is bigger than yours, and because when we win, you will be left defenseless. I am not cruel, and I wouldn't willingly leave three human beings to die – even if their career choices are deplorable," she added, a hint of derision on her tone, "but if you choose to attack us even after I've told you all this, the odds are that you will die."
"You talk big for a researcher, Masters," the man on the right said, grinning eerily at Sophie. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, I know you. Your pretty face's been all over the papers lately – I know you can't battle for shit, doll."
The taller girl brought her hand to her face, pointer finger leaning against her wet cheekbone. In anyone else, it would've seemed disrepectful. Even – sassy. But Sophie only looked like a doctor, or a teacher, or someone thinking hard and seriously.
"Didn't you hear what I said? If it comes to battling, I will only assist. This isn't about me – I wouldn't be arrogant enough to assume it is. This is about how you will eventually be found by the mightyena pack that has been exhibiting behavioral changes tonight if you don't choose to leave now."
Mike was, along with Claire, openly gaping at the brown-haired girl. Claire had assumed that Mike would've been the one to talk his way out of the tense situation, but here was the researcher girl, laying down the law without as much as a wince. Granted, she wasn't very expressive, but Claire was still very admired at her stoicism. The Aqua members halted, trading looks that were not as sure as their words had been.
"How'd we know you're not trickin' us?" said the smallest member, after a beat. His accent made Claire wonder if he had been born in Dewford, city of surfer slang and southern drawls; she had been there only twice, once for the badge and once for the cave. "For all we know, you just want to get away scot free."
Mike scoffed, pointing at his leg with his free hand: "Look, dude, we can stay here and chat and eventually die, or we can just get the hell away from each other and live. It's your choice."
The Aqua woman narrowed her eyes at them, water dripping down her short lashes, and then sighed tightly, letting the air blow in a hiss. Hemlock looked at her oddly, tail shaking, head cocked in confusion.
"Darwin," she said, curtly, "get your mightyena out. Do some recon."
The smaller man turned to look at her, face caught between clear indecision and uncomfortableness, but eventually nodded, releasing one of his pokéballs. Claire tensed, and Vincent mimicked her, reminding her that he was still holding her; his presence was too quiet, and Claire had forgotten about him. A small, thin wave of shame hit her shore, but withheld when Darwin's mightyena started sniffing about, his trainer's hushed words in his ears. She placed her hand on her belt, ready to release Capucine if needed.
"Well?" the woman said, arms crossed. Darwin's eyes flickered from the animal's to hers, impatient and looking slightly ruffled. Claire had been right to assume she was a superior, then – though not an admin; those were already famous in the trainer circuit, and Claire might have not known their names, but she knew their faces.
"You hafta give me more time, Sarah," the man called Darwin replied, an edge in his voice. The woman, Sarah, turned to him and replied something in a hiss, and then the last member joined in also. Their voices were focused, but low, tight with urgency and tension.
Claire took the chance; she glanced at Sophie and Mike, standing together a few steps away, and then leaned in, whispering into Vincent's ear: "Can you run?"
To his credit, he didn't flinch, though she saw his lip twitch in surprise. Water slid down her face slowly; her hair tie was loosening, her hair matted against her cheek and ears. She pushed it back, straining to hear Vincent's voice.
"I – um, I don't – yes, probably," he said, whispering as well. Claire rolled her eyes, poking him in the side impatiently.
"Yes or no?" she insisted, brutish. Vincent shifted from one foot to the other, most definitely anxious, and then gave a tight nod, after he had stared hard at the hill Claire had pointed at. Claire glanced at Mike and bit the inside of her cheek; how would she attract his attention without alerting the bickering Aqua members? They didn't have time. Anytime now, the Aqua members would come to a conclusion, or maybe Smile would return. Claire's stomach tightened in anticipation, and her hands pressed against Vincent's shoulders hard enough to make him tense again.
But salvation came in the form of a teasing glance; Mike was glancing at them now, watching them whisper, and the edge of his mouth was lifting in a smirk. Claire made a tight gesture with her hand, shooting a wary look at the arguing Aqua members for a half-second, and then gesticulated wildly towards the slope they had by their right. Her rib throbbed. The constant, heavy rain had been too much for the cliff where the two secret bases were in, and the ground had given way. If they could make the jump, they could disappear into the secret base furthest away from the landslide; if they couldn't, they'd either hit the ground or drown.
It was a large thing, a labyrinthine pathway Claire had used to spend a night once before – it was perfect for food, too, since Claire had no reservations when it came to eating fish. During a storm, though, she wasn't so sure (Mr. Lehrer had said the soil was muddy, slick, and drowning in mud wasn't on her to-do list). And yet, the choice was almost too easy – she'd rather try her luck than to waste her time and her pokémon's vitality.
Mike, who had been staring at the slope in confusion, widened his eyes when he finally seemed to realize what Claire was trying to suggest. He shook his head quickly, looking alarmed, and caught Sophie's attention, who glanced at Claire. The blond repeated the gesture, pointing at the slope. Sophie's reaction was golden – a brief, analyzing look, and then a nod. A simple thing that Claire had not expected to see from her.
"You guys are god damn suicidal," Mike hissed. "We might as well just beat these assholes and be done with it," he added, leaning in, a hand around his mouth.
"And risk weakening our pokémon? This group is not our main priority. The hill, apart from returning to the tall grass, is our only option," Sophie replied dully, watching the slope, where it ended, where the water rocked against the mud. Claire watched her, and then glanced upon the south, searching for the only secret base she had deemed worthy – another shrub, but a comfortable one, near fertile soil and near another lake. She could remember the summer days she had spent in there, bare feet under water, a frosty soda pop in her hand, and an almost complete joy inside her.
She'd still had Josephine then, and flying to Lilycove and back had been so, so easy. Claire had eaten well that special day, a glass of her mother's favorite wine in a plastic cup by her side, a plate with an entire clafoutis on her lap. It had been custom-made, since her mother had preferred pecha berries over any other human fruit. For dessert, a few oran berries had been enough; some kind traveller had planted them, the trees already bearing fruit, and she had swallowed them down with wine until she was drunk.
That lake was beautiful in the sun, all cerulean and tranquil, but the storm had tinged this one brown, had injured it with debris and pieces of—? Of what? Claire broke out of her reverie and strained to see, shielding her eyes from the drizzle (it seemed the rain had calmed), but Vincent tensed, and then, just as she had realized the bridge had fallen, he broke into a run. Claire grit her teeth, feeling the pain she had forgotten about blossoming hotly in her chest, her hands grabbing at his shirt tightly.
"I'm sorry," Vincent whispered, between sharp breaths.
"No," she managed, through her tight jaw. It was hard to breathe, harder to talk. She would not cry – she never did – but she closed her eyes anyway, pretending it would ease the pain. "The bridge," she tried, once more, but all that came out was a shaky, drawn-out exhale. The water, churning violently, was coming closer to her. Vincent was a fast runner, all long legs and surprisingly long stamina, and Claire raised a hand to smack him, trying to get him to stop and listen.
He took it as a cue to jump, releasing her uninjured leg and releasing a pokéball with the natural deftness that eventually came to trainers. Claire groaned in frustration, feeling both a sway and the waves crashing at the end of her left leg, the one Vincent had released. Well, she supposed it didn't matter – if they could count on their pokémon for help, they would eventually figure a solution regarding the fallen bridge. Then she paused, realizing that the pain, though starting to fade, was fogging more of her judgement than she had thought; if the waves weren't crashing against her, then—
"You have a crobat," Claire managed quickly, surprised and approving, because despite the fact that she couldn't really see much (the rain had picked up and her eyelashes had cluttered together), there was no mistaking those sleek, pointed wings, that unmistakable shade of lighter purple.
Vincent didn't say anything, but Claire was fairly sure he had blushed. She looked away, searching for Mike and Sophie, and found them riding on top of an altaria. The bird (a female? No, a male. Right—?) glanced at her, and then tipped its beak, looking away with a distasteful nod. Claire felt herself redden, her rage hot and spreading, but then Vincent trembled, and she looked in his direction again. Behind him, the caves waited.
The small beach had shrunk in half, maybe a little less. The rocky entrance by the left had crumbled, the secret cave exposed to the elements. The right one, however, was fine – Vincent told his crobat something, voice straining over the wind, and the crobat steered them towards it.
Claire couldn't hear; her hair tie had steadily been slipping down her hair, and it chose to fall into the lake when the warm wind picked up. Her hair slapped against her cheeks, her jaw, her ear. She grinned, and turned to Mike, who was at riding front: "Who's the fucking," a pause to breathe, to relax her muscles for a second, "show-off now!?"
She heard him laugh, sounding from very far away, and when she lifted a curtain of wet hair off her face she saw Sophie's odd expression, a twitching mouth and nose. Vincent's crobat dove, nearing the shore, and Claire prepared for the pain that came when Vincent's feet hit land. The impact was neat enough, which was impressive when combined with the hard, constant wind, and she exhaled in relief.
Claire didn't use fly much, nowadays, and though traveling to Lilycove was faster through the south, around Mt. Pyre, she still preferred to take the long way around through Fortree. And she'd never seen this kind of weather here. Route 120 was more familiar to her in the summer, when the rain would thin into nothing but a drizzle, like passing through a cloud; but even the fewer times she had passed by in the winter had told her that the weather would never be as nightmarish as today had been.
"Are you – okay," Vincent asked timidly, his right arm lying limp against her leg. Claire hopped off his back, one-footed, wrapping her arm around his side – his shoulders were too high for her height. Her rib throbbed and she was a little woozy, but she nodded. They would rest now, and she could finally bandage her ankle and check out her ribs, and they could sleep for an hour, or maybe ten. It depended, really: if the weather remained terrible, they would eventually have to leave the cave, and face the elements (and Smile; in the end it was always Smile who mattered most); if the Aqua members had seen which way they had gone, they would eventually knock at their door, and a constant beating of the rock entrance would eventually smash it. Still, Claire needed at least one hour and a half of rest, and she was willing to get it.
"How is your arm?" she asked, taking short, quick hops. Vincent fidgeted, but Claire did not look away.
He relented, "I, um, might have, ah. Dislocated something?"
Claire was reminded he had carried the weight of two people one–armed. Feeling the back of her neck heat, she thanked him, and finally looked away, fishing for Lambert's pokéball. Mike and Sophie landed a few feet away; the taller girl helped him down, and the altaria crooned tiredly, rubbing its head on Mike's.
"Thanks, Nim," he said, returning it to its ball, but not before he brushed altaria's blue neck.
"Nim?" Sophie asked, combing her hair past her ear; she really did have a tic to push her glasses up her nose, Claire was sure now. It amused her, just a little, though she didn't know why.
"Short for Nimbus," Mike replied, with a shrug. Claire unhooked Lambert's pokéball and released him.
"Secret power," she said, but then lifted a finger, trapping her sandslash's attention in place. "Si le toit tombe," she added, very seriously, letting the words hang, and Lambert nodded solemnly, before turning to the secret entrance.
Mike looked at her oddly, but it was Sophie who asked, "what did you say?"
"I told him to conserve his energies," she replied shortly, without looking at him. Her clothes were dirty and sticking to her, wet and muddy, and Claire wanted nothing more than to bask in the heat of Chama's flames. Away from Vincent's warm body, her teeth began to chatter; she grit them tight and waited for Lambert to finish opening the tunnel. Despite the warm wind, she was still too cold.
"Mm," Sophie said noncommittally, looking toward the lake. It was a miracle that the small tract of land they were standing on hadn't totally disappeared, considering the quantity of rain that had fallen. At least it was hot enough, for a night (dawn? She would have to ask for time, inside).
Lambert returned from the wall, curled up and rolling around her feet. Claire smiled at him, and began hopping, pulling Vincent with her. Mike and Sophie came behind, separated – the roof of the entrance was low, and both Vincent and Sophie had to hunch, much to Claire's amusement.
Chama, fresh from the confines of her pokéball, breathed tiny little wisps of fire that would go out as soon as they passed them (Claire was almost green with envy, and Mike's eyes were wide and frowning with the awed greed she felt as well).
Inside, after the curved path, she heaved a sigh of relief, releasing Vincent and leaning against the nearest wall. Slowly, she sat down, gingerly placing her ankle on the floor. Vincent crouched down next to her, placing her bag by her thigh, and Lambert curled by her butt and began to nap. Then, slightly awkwardly, Vincent began to rise, his arm limp and a little amusing to the eye. She bit the inside of her cheek. A dislocated shoulder hurt like a bitch, and she didn't know how he could act like he was fine. Then again, hadn't she attempted to do the same?
"Wait up. I'll fix your arm," Claire said, and Vincent seemed caught by surprise, but he nodded, after a long beat.
"Wow, you two really hit it off," Mike called, standing by the entrance, his seviper already cuddling up to him. Vincent's face reddened. "I took the liberty of making Hemlock the sentinel, Colonel Claire, I hope that's no issue," he added, having the nerve to salute. Claire made a rude gesture at him, and Mike gasped, covering his mouth. She ignored him, grabbing her bag and searching for her first-aid kit.
"Someone tell me the time," she groaned. She would have to ask the time later, too, and know exactly how well-trained Vincent's pokémon were.
"Four-fifty," Sophie replied simply, laying down her bag on the floor.
"Fifty-two," Mike corrected; Sophie gave him an unimpressed look while Claire unrolled her bandages. They were damp, but she was glad they were so dry – though her backpack was impervious, the rain was strong and steady.
In the cave, it was chilly, and slightly moist, and Claire gave Vincent, who was still standing next to her, a look that told him to act on it. He did, calling Chama with a sheepish, half-frightened grin; the ninetales growled and brushed its tails across Vincent's legs, purring smoothly. He petted her with his right hand, smiling, and greeted her with a warm murmur. Claire averted her gaze, feeling intrusive, and reached out to take off her sneaker. Her sock was soaked, and when she peeled it off it ached, but all she found when she managed to roll it all off was a purple and pink swelling.
"You were lucky," Mike said. He was sitting close, things already sprawled out on the floor around him.
Claire, who had spent days climbing up trees and roofs and the rocky cliffs at the beach, replied: "No, I was skilled."
She began bandaging her foot; a simple, loose bind to reduce the swelling, but nothing more. She would have to find another way to walk until they reached the pokécenter. Sophie, who had sat down near Mike, was rummaging through her own bag.
"I just remembered I've got some of that icy spray for injuries, if you want," Mike said, bringing up a can and jiggling it. Claire nodded, and grabbed it one-handedly when he threw. "Also," he added, turning to Sophie, "I've got some of those pads that heat up, for your back." Her brow furrowed, just so, and he explained: "I've noticed you're walking all hunched."
Sophie shook her head; Claire was stealing glances, finishing up her foot. The spray felt nice, and if she sighed in relief, Vincent wouldn't know.
"It was just the weight of the bags," she replied, "but I'm grateful."
"Ah, um," started Vincent, at the same time Claire clipped the wraps together, over the ankle bone, "I have water and uh, food, if anyone needs. They're not, um, well, they're just some energy bars and some, um—"
"Dibs on chocolate flavored ones," Mike said quickly, and then, upon noticing Claire's withering glare, shrugged: "What? I'm allergic to peanuts."
"Bien sur," she said dryly. Turning to Vincent, she gestured for him to sit down near the fire. Unsurely, very carefully, he did, leaning with his right hand, lips thinning with effort. Chama was staring at Claire, her tail flickering, the pale blue flames resting at a spot by Claire's feet. They could burn for hours, depending on Chama's age and training. "I can pop your shoulder back, if you want." She waited for him to nod before continuing: "Is your arm numb? Can I touch you?"
"If he says no, you can touch me," piped in Mike. Claire glared at him, hating herself for feeling warm. Vincent's face was so red, she thought she'd get burned if she touched it, but he managed a nod. "Aw, I see how it is," he added, putting on a face of exaggerated despondency.
"You should change your bandages, Michael," Sophie said, cutting into the conversation and distracting the smaller boy. Claire thanked her internally, watching Vincent take off his jacket; his arm looked pink enough, she supposed, and when she pressed her palm against it, she could feel warmth, despite how cold her hands were.
"Okay, lie down," Claire said, pulling away. Vincent nodded, still half-nervous, and did what she asked. Claire grabbed him by the wrist, carefully, and pulled his arm up, then sideways, watching his face carefully. He didn't let anything show, save for a tight mood, as if he was ready to spring up and away if he needed to.
She wondered why he wasn't asking more questions (Mike indubitably would), or overall acting suspicious. They weren't friends, not even acquaintances, though perhaps Alex would have argued that this was one of those things that brought people together for life. But Claire was a skeptic, and all she wanted was shelter, safety, and eventually revenge – not friendship.
"I'm going to pull now, with some strength, but I'll do it slowly," she warned. He looked a little alarmed, but nodded again. "If you want me to stop—"
"Get on with it, the suspense is killing me," Mike interrupted, leaning in to take a better look. He had stopped, mid-unwrapping, still holding the ends of the old bandages. Hemlock, curled up by the entrance, was shaking her tail like a growlithe's, expectant. Chama had also lain down, looking unruffled, but her eyes were on Claire's hands.
Claire rolled her eyes and began pulling. It made her ribs ache – really, it was a miracle they weren't broken yet, though the Safari Zone nurses would give her hell for being so thoughtless – but she was the only one who had done this before; she didn't want to ask Sophie (never Mike), afraid that she would worsen the situation.
The fact was, Sophie had said Vincent had taken down three mightyena, and all of his pokémon were still active. Claire had committed it to memory and had been guarding it until she could stop and think about it. The moment was now.
What did that mean, then? Hadn't he said he was a contester? What was he doing, then, taking down three large animals without suffering one single party loss? If he lost the use of his arm, would he still be a functional battler? Or would the scales tip? If Vincent hadn't been there when Claire had – been busy, would they have lost? Died, even?
She pulled harder, just slightly, and Vincent huffed, surprised, but didn't say a word. Her ribs protested.
"The longer you take, the bigger is the risk of infection," Sophie said, matter-of-factly. Mike startled, and when Claire stole a glance at him, she found him slightly pinker.
"I know that," he said quickly, searching for newer bandages. His pants were rolled up past his knee, and Claire felt a dash of sympathy at the sight of his torn skin. It looked as if he had skinned his knee on a pavement filled with glass. "It won't infect; I'm vaccinated and I carry disinfectant with me."
"Really?" Sophie asked, and Mike frowned, looking a little insulted. "I hadn't expected such a level of preparedness."
"Same here," Claire said, increasing the pressure. Vincent was breathing slowly, calmly. Just a little more, and – "There," she said, grinning. It had been a while since the last time she had had to utilize her first-aid knowledge, and it felt good to know she still had it. For the first time in hours, Claire smiled, dropping Vincent's arm carefully and stretching slowly so as not to feel the complaints of her ribs.
"Um. Thank you," Vincent said, closing and opening his fist. His skin was pimpled with goosebumps. "I – I should put ice in it, right?"
"Do you see any ice around?" Claire shot back, and Vincent looked at her, his smile dimming. It returned to a shy, pleased line, though, after he saw her lips open in a grin. "Put some spray on it and just deal with it until we get to the Safari Zone."
"Will it be open in this weather?" Sophie asked, a little absently. She rubbed her hands and brought them close to the fire. "As an activity primarily based on first-hand contact with nature and wildlife, I am not sure the Lilycove municipal department would allow them to be open."
"Ah, merde, vous avez raison," Claire said, watching Vincent struggle with his jacket. Sophie turned to her, lifting a questioning eyebrow, and Claire felt herself flush. It didn't happen too often, but sometimes she would slip into French, even though she didn't usually have the chance to practice it. "I mean, you're right," she corrected, watching the doubt clear in Sophie's face.
"Lilycove is just half an hour away from the Safari Zone, anyway," Mike said, returning to throwing stuff out of his bag. "I suggest we eat and sleep a while before we try and tackle that problem." Claire secretly agreed, though she wound have never been the one to suggest it. Mike yawned, letting his hands fall besides his hips, where a myriad of items were resting. Mostly status healers, though she could spot a couple of berries and a few key cards, along with a mountain of pennies and a battered first-aid kit. His leg was already bandaged.
"Mm," Sophie agreed, staring at Vincent now. "Do you need assistance?"
Claire turned to look, trying to find out why she had suddenly felt a terrible thing brewing in the pit of her stomach, and found Vincent awkwardly trying to take off his shirt. He paused, then flushed pink, ducking his head at the attention he had suddenly received. Claire rolled her eyes, leaning over to help him. Her fingers caught the end of his shirt and she pulled it off quickly, dumping it in his lap. Her ribs felt hot, after she sat down, so she experimentally palmed her stomach and her side. They ached.
"Pass me the spray," she said, looking at Vincent. His face was still red, but she spared him further humiliation and only waited, bringing her shirt up. The fabric was wet, but Claire didn't feel comfortable taking her shirt off around Sophie. It was one thing to be half-naked in front of two boys she was perfectly capable of dealing with, but Sophie, with her soft, neat features and her obvious curves, was another thing.
She curled her lip as she sprayed her ribs, feeling a flood of relief. When she was done, she passed the can back to Vincent. Chama's jewel-like eyes followed her, slow and cautious. It was starting to bother her; she glanced at Lambert for assurance, but found him still curled by her bag, his quills slowly trembling when he breathed.
"Ah, um," Vincent said, holding the spray. Claire raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat, looking away. "I can't, ah, reach."
"Give it here, then," she said impatiently, hand extended and upturned. But then, the feeling finally hit its boiling point, and she turned around instead, staring at the mess around Mike with wide eyes. Her fingers were tight around the metal.
"What?" he asked, suspicious, and Claire reached out and grabbed the blue key-card by the mouth of his backpack. There was a white, capitalized 'a' in the right corner, and the glossy letters were shaking in the pale light.
"Master key card two," she read, slow and poisonous. "Property of team Aqua."