A/N: Took me long enough to finish this one, wow. Sorry I'm late!
Chapter Six:
Treembling
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Claire tensed, but so did Mike, so she paused, choosing to trust him. A second rolled by; Claire met his gaze in a rush. Mike's pale eyes were wide like hers, and she almost sagged in relief. However, Lambert honed his claws, and began digging frantically, distracting her. The low, humming sound of drilling began after he disappeared into the floor, and Claire let go of Mike's hand only to shove Hemlock's ball inside it. Mike's eyes widened in surprise, staring at his pokéball like he didn't believe she had handed it to him.
"The cave is falling apart," she said, struggling to get out of her sleeping bag without leaning on her ankle. She nodded at Sophie, sleeping the furthest away. "Wake her up and get your stuff."
Mike clipped Hemlock's ball on his belt, nodding at her a little awkwardly, and limped over to Sophie, unscrewing the cork of his water bottle and splashing her with it. Claire didn't see her reaction, though she tried to, busy with hopping over to Vincent. He was already half-awake, and mostly confused; she searched for his belt, lying on top of his closed bag, and threw it at him.
"If you have something that'll dig us out of here—" She was cut off by a slow, crumbling sound, and when she looked up she felt pebbles pelting her on her face. Chama flicked her tails quickly, and the room was immediately covered in tiny blue flames. The ceiling was falling apart in one of the corners, and dread filled Claire's chest.
Vincent blinked owlishly, but nodded slowly, trying to recognize his pokéballs, what contained what. Claire almost smiled, feeling strangely amused to see him at such a loss, but in the end turned to her bag, trying to collect her things. The ground shook, then, and she stilled, horrified, thinking of Lambert burrowing underground, but then Mike whistled appreciatively, and there was a pokémon cry Claire could recognize.
Bruno from Kanto had a steelix, after all.
"I did say I have one," Vincent told someone, probably Mike. She didn't turn to look, fighting her sleeping bag and trying to know if she still had the fever Sophie had spoken about. Had it really been because of the painkillers? They were mostly for brutal headaches or some bad period cramps, but – she didn't know. The pain in her ribs had eased, probably from the two hours she had spent asleep, though she would still have to lean on someone else to walk. The thought annoyed her, and she punched her sleeping bag harder, feeling surprised when it finally entered the bag without spilling over.
The steelix wormed past her, its weight creating a trail across the dirt, and then began digging next to Lambert's tunnel, widening it significantly. The pebbles that had began pelting her seconds ago were heavier, now, and Claire had to take an awkward, quick step away from a falling rock. Sophie had already packed her stuff – impeccably, too (Claire felt inferior as she thought of her rumpled sleeping bag) – and was now helping Mike move around.
"You go first," Claire said quickly, commanding, and Mike nodded. The two of them headed to the tunnel, and she turned to Vincent, who was still rubbing at his eyes. For a man who had been terrified of a survival knife, he seemed almost unruffled by the earthquake, especially as he calmly returned Chama to her pokéball.
"I, um," he covered his mouth, embarrassed at his inopportune yawn, "you can lean on, um, me? If, um, if you—"
Claire didn't bother waiting for the rest of his usually awkward phrasings, instead snaking her arm around his waist and tugging him along. Without Chama, it was dark, but Claire assumed he was blushing, now, as he always did, and the thought amused her; in the darkness, she allowed herself to smirk.
The tunnel was wide enough for two, even though Vincent was a full head taller than her and had to bend, and they scrambled along hurriedly. Her rib protested, aroused from its momentary calm, but Claire could hear the ceiling crumbling louder and louder from behind them, and she ignored it. Vincent, crouching slightly, still tensed when he heard the cracks.
There was light at the end of the tunnel; by her calculations, it was six, six-thirty, or maybe even seven, she couldn't keep track. Dawn had broken, though, and Claire felt suspicious – it was October, and though Hoenn had always been warm, the sun shouldn't have been so bright. With a final step outside of the hastily built tunnel, she was invaded by a sickeningly hot wind and the painful pelting of heavy raindrops.
"C'est quoi ce bordel?" she asked, outraged, more to herself than to anyone else, but Sophie, waiting by the turbulent water's edge, still replied.
"It seems the storm has picked up. This is slightly unusual," she said, one hand shielding her face from the rain, another lying limp against her hip. Claire returned Lambert, unwilling to have him suffer through more water, and Vincent did the same with his steelix. "I hadn't expected a tropical storm in the autumn."
"This isn't a tropical rainstorm, this is a freakin' tornado," Mike said, grudgingly staring at the sky. He was also shielding his face, and Claire, starting to really feel the pain from the drops, imitated them with her free hand. "Route 120 doesn't have this kind of weather. And what the hell is up with this heat?"
"And the sun," Claire completed, staring at the sky. The clouds were there, darker than before, bigger than before, but the sky was still white and bright, behind them. Her hair was already wet, sticking to her neck and cheeks, and she brushed it away with a huff. "It's too early for this shit."
Vincent seemed to agree, stumbling when a particularly strong gust of wind assailed them.
"I suggest we leave," Sophie said, turning to look at the waves crashing into the shore. The small beach had begun to sink as well, Claire suddenly realized: it seemed like the rain had been too much for the lake. "It's a matter of time before we lose this land tract."
"There's no bridge," Claire suddenly said, reminded, and Mike startled, straining his neck to look behind him. The bridge's wooden posts were still in place on either side, but the logs had fallen into the water. She had seen them floating lazily, earlier, but now the waves were too rowdy, and all she could see was mud and dirty foam.
"Okay," Mike said slowly, closing his eyes and dragging his hand down his dripping face. "This is literally the worst day I've ever had."
"Really?" Sophie asked, sounding the tiniest bit curious. Claire's impatience was rising, though, so she cut in rudely, breaking the conversation.
"There are two secret bases near," she said, pulling Vincent with her when she turned to point. "The one atop the hill is the one I want to go to. It's far away enough from the tall grass and it won't crumble or sink. And that's where we are going."
"Whatever you say, Colonel," said Mike, though Sophie looked like she wanted to say something, her brow slightly creased. Claire stared at her, like she did whenever the stoic girl showed emotion, and paused, thinking: why don't you talk, if you want to? A second rolled by, then another, and Claire resisted the urge to frown, feeling awkward. She nodded at Sophie, a little hesitant, but the taller girl noticed, and eventually began talking – though she seemed a little discomfited to.
"We need a rock-climbing pokémon to exit the premises. I assume none of us has one, since rock-climb isn't distributed as a hidden machine in Hoenn. Also, let us not forget that we are now evading the Aqua members as well, not just the mightyena pack. Is it really a good decision to head south after we warned the three Aqua that the tall grass was out-of-bounds? Logically, they would avoid it, which means there is a high chance of meeting them. However," she paused, taking off her wet glasses and hooking them on the collar of her shirt, "it's preferable to fight with a maximum of eighteen trained pokémon than with a minimum of thirty wild ones. I approve of Claire's strategy, though I would prefer to discuss the pros and cons of it before we act."
Claire frowned, feeling bitter. Sophie had a point, though a much better one than hers had been, and she was indecisive between sulking or nodding. She did neither, leaving the decision up to Mike – Vincent wouldn't speak, Claire was certain. But she was wrong. Very slowly, very shyly, Vincent began an hesitant sentence.
"I, um, I have a climbing kit, and we can – I mean, I think we can, um, climb the secret bases' ruins?" He shrugged when he finished talking, but Claire nodded, egging him on, and he lost a little of his shyness. When she looked at the destroyed hill, she could, indeed, map out the places where they could climb, if assisted by ropes and hooks. "Though that means that, um, we will have to pass near the, um. Tall grass. I, um, maybe this wasn't—"
"It's good enough," she said, assurance seeping out of her voice. Vincent seemed pleased with himself, smiling a little, shrugging again. "There's a ledge we can climb over, on the western side, since we have harnesses and ropes." If the storm hasn't destroyed that either, she chose not to say. "There's still the risk of running into the—"
"Okay, look," Mike interrupted, looking as miserable as he was wet, "let's just wing it and see. This rain is killing me, and I don't know about you guys, but these asshole raindrops hurt, so can we just – go, already? I want to get inside something and just sit down."
Claire was reminded Mike had probably not rested, if he had waited for Sophie to fall asleep, but Vincent and Sophie turned to look at her; she let it go, feeling slightly offended that they thought she was the one who had to have the last word. Was she really that bossy? She felt a little angry, mostly because she knew they were right, but eventually nodded, trying to soothe her viciousness. Vincent began searching through his bag at her sign, momentarily releasing Claire's shoulders. She missed the heat, and felt embarrassed by it; the wind was hot, heating her up despite the gelid rain, so she had no excuse to feel amiss.
"There is also another tract of land by the south," Sophie said, looking at Vincent's attempts to find his gear. "Though that would involve surfing across." She gave the rowdy waters an almost derisive look. "However, I do not possess a surfing pokémon, neither do I wish to risk drowning."
Mike looked at the lake with disgust.
"I'm not going in there," he said, and were he not holding onto Sophie for support, he would have probably crossed his arms petulantly. Claire could picture it, and almost smirked, but Vincent had finally found his hiking kit, and she hobbled along with him in the fallen hill's direction. The ground was pliable, soft, and she searched for Lambert's pokéball. It would not do for them to fall if the rocky walls couldn't support their weight, though she had wanted him to remain away from the wet weather.
"Si nous tombons, sauve-nous," she told him, and when she was sure the rest of the group was watching Vincent set the first hook up, she whispered: "Je ne peux pas laissez-vous reposer. Pardonnez-moi, Lambert."
Her sandslash only shook his head, leaning against her for a single consoling second. She could see the healing bruises on his arms, from Hemlock's bite, and the sleepiness in his eyes, and the guilt weighed, though she knew Lambert would never choose to let her down. He nuzzled against her then, going as far as to give her a tiny lick. Claire's insides churned with guilt at the realization he was worried, and she brushed his quills down, softly.
"It's probably best if we go first, so we can place the hooks for you two," Mike said, giving Claire's ankle a quick glance. She felt warm, acutely aware of how frail she must've looked, but ignored him. Lambert backed away from her, testing the walls with his claws, poking here and there. "Can we go, Bert?" he asked, then, staring at the sandslash.
"Don't call him Bert," Claire huffed, and her sandslash gave Mike an odd look as well, causing him to grin apologetically. Lambert nodded at Mike eventually, but kept on poking the walls in different places.
"Do you know how to climb?" Vincent quietly asked Mike, holding the ropes. At the smaller boy's nod, he handed them over, and slowly placed his arm around Claire's shoulders again. It covered her from the rain, just slightly, but she thanked him in her head nevertheless – Mike had been right: the rain was starting to make her skin ache, like a million tiny paper cuts that came and went over and over. It was icy, icy like Shoal Cave's sharp, salty walls.
"I wouldn't have taken you for a climber," Claire said, watching Mike and Sophie beginning their climb. She remembered he had taken flight with a jump, back when they had escaped the Aqua mooks, and he had managed to hold on to her. At the expense of a dislocated shoulder, but still. The suspicion, added with the skill of his pokémon, irked her, so she released her bait: "I thought contesters liked cushy lives."
Vincent looked a little surprised to be addressed to, but he replied, fidgeting.
"I, um, yeah. Um. I like hiking," he said, staring at the wall. Mike and Sophie were doing well under Lambert's supervision. The hill wasn't too tall to begin with, to her relief, so it would be their turn to climb soon.
Claire didn't know what to say next, so she kept quiet. Mike was usually the one to keep the conversation going, motor-mouth that he was, and she found herself struggling for another question. She had met contesters before – girls with luxurious upbringings and boys with expensive outfits – and she could have betted her life than neither of them would be found in the wild, struggling with rocks and hills. Or perhaps not all contesters were the same. She didn't know – contests were nothing to her, nothing but half-hour specials she would sometimes watch on an empty pokécenter lobby.
"I like hiking, too," she replied honestly, feeling awkward and too transparent. Vincent didn't seem to think anything of it, though, so she went on. "But there's a large difference between hiking and climbing."
"Sorry," he said quickly, and Claire frowned at him, having enough and discarding her suspicion.
"Why do you keep saying sorry all the time? Why are you so afraid of me? Is it because of the knife thing?" she asked, a small edge on her voice, and Vincent tensed, looking at everywhere but her.
"I, um – um, uh," he said, frantic. Claire resisted the urge to sigh, feeling frustrated and ignorant. How would she ever figure out why his pokémon were so sharp if she just kept yelling at him? Then again, it wasn't like she could help it; she'd never been the type to small talk or – or talk at all. She exhaled, trying to curb her anger, and waited for him to speak. Vincent thankfully did, though he looked like it was incredibly hard to do so. "I was, um, just surprised. I didn't – it's not, um." He paused, trying to figure out what to say next. In the foggy light of the dawn, she could see his ears redden. "I'm not used to talking to, um, to girls?"
Claire almost laughed.
That was it? Really? She pressed her lips together as tightly as she could, and when that wasn't enough she bit down, her rib complaining about the straining laughter in her stomach. Vincent was staring at the wall, looking nervous, and Claire eventually calmed down, managing to breathe out her guffaws in a sigh.
"I see," she said calmly. What did a person say to something like that? Moreover, she was a girl – though she forgot about it sometimes – so should she even continue talking? What the hell kind of complex was that?
"S-Sorry," he added. Claire didn't complain about his favorite word, but just because Mike and Sophie had reached the top of the ruins. Lambert, from the middle of the hill, was staring at them, waiting.
"Come on, Vinnie," she said, smirking, and pretended not to hear him stammering as she dragged him towards the hill. The hooks and ropes would allow her to make the climb easily enough, though she would have to lean on him for support; the idea of it wasn't as ghastly as before. Mostly because she didn't have a choice, and her pride didn't overcome the urge of survival. Besides, she supposed leaning on Mike or Sophie would wear her out much faster than a silent companion would.
The climb was slow, but steady. Vincent's feet were used to the rocky terrain, and whenever Claire stumbled, one-footed, he was there to offer her balance. It still annoyed her, a little (a lot), but she thought of the League's bright lights, of holding the Champion's mantle in her risen fist, and it helped.
But her attempts at calmness were soon torn apart like flesh through teeth; from above, she heard Mike shout a series of expletives, and her heart sped up. Vincent strained to see, holding onto the rope and pulling back, but when she looked at him he only shook his head.
"We have to hurry up," she said, grabbing at the rope above and pulling her weight onto the next slab of rock. Lambert scurried to help her, but she shook her head. "Climb up," she said, panting, her rib like a stab wound, "and tell me what's going on."
Lambert nodded, albeit only after a second, and nimbly climbed up, disappearing over the edge. Vincent's hands touched at her stomach, anxious, and then withdrew, but she shouted at him to push. He did, and she saw white, but she threw herself onto the flat terrain anyway, breathless and aching. They were close, now, close enough to hear the sound of battling, and her heart dropped. Vincent pulled himself up easily, sending her wary glances.
"Go see. I'll do the rest on my own," she said, and, to her surprise, Vincent nodded, though he looked obviously torn between leaving her or helping her. Claire insisted, "you're needed," and he finally went, climbing the rest of the hill as easily as she would have otherwise. When she watched him climb over the final rock, already pulling a pokéball out of his belt, she sighed, kneeling on the floor. The ropes would help her up, but she would be slow, and she needed to be there, she needed to be useful somehow.
Lambert skidded over the edge, meeting her; his arm was bleeding, and Claire cursed violently.
"Well?" she asked, gingerly advancing to the next segment of rope. Vincent had been collecting the hooks himself, but it would have to be her now; she took her time with them, trying to give her rib the slightest of rests.
Lambert pointed at his face with his uninjured arm, silent as ever, and Claire thought, Aqua, but then he lifted his arm, showing her the bite marks, and she understood. It felt hot and gross and bitter, but she understood, and she thought: I'll do it now. I promise.
"Smile," she growled, and Lambert nodded. This time, she accepted his help, leaning on him as she had on Vincent. Though the size difference was incredible, it was better than nothing, and she didn't mind showing weakness in front of her sandslash. At least, not as much.
The trek up through the final wall felt like years to Claire, her heart beating, her blood drumming, her instincts rising, and it was when she reached the top that everything finally picked up speed. The pack was bigger, this time; she counted nine, ten, eleven, and then gave up, focusing on the group. Her adrenaline had erased her throbbing rib and ankle, and she knew she would suffer later, but she didn't care now.
How could she stop to moan and groan? Mike had released Hemlock and Nimbus, while Sophie was commanding her fire-breathing magcargo, the two of them back-to-back as they called out attacks. But it was Vincent who was shining. Surrounded by his steelix, his ninetales, and his crobat, he was the furthest away from the rabid mightyena, and the one who seemed to be doing the best job at holding his ground. Claire searched for Smile, ignoring how Vincent's pokémon kept six mightyena away almost effortlessly (but committing it to memory once more), and found it leering at her from the tall grass. Her belt shook, but this wasn't the time, and she ignored it.
"Lambert," she called, and in a second her sandslash was rolling away, though he was intercepted by two other mightyena. Smile grinned, and disappeared inside the dark green. "Merde," she hissed, looking away.
The two animals – One and Two, because she would want a tally of her revenge – growled, and Lambert stilled, but Claire would never allow them the pleasure of knocking out one of her pokémon, and deftly released Capucine, who joined Lambert immediately. The two mightyena wagged their tails slowly, the tip shivering, but Claire was already shouting, and Capucine advanced, her arm taut and ready to brick-break. The green thorns of her fingers missed by inches; One, on her left, evaded, and Two, on the right, jumped, ready to bite her on the side—
And was intercepted by Lambert's crossed arms. Its teeth splintered against the claws, but Two didn't have enough time to whine.
"Body slam!" Claire cried, and Lambert rolled away, smashing the mightyena's head against the floor before he spun a tight curve and threw his weight against it. Claire turned to Capucine, found her struggling throughout the mud, sharing a violent embrace with One.
She took a step to watch closely, and then had to stop, almost skidding, because Mike's Hemlock was slithering away from the jaws of another mightyena, almost running into her. She didn't see where they wound up, too busy trying to think. There were too many, Claire realized, denying the panic in her chest. That was the problem; how to tell them apart, how to communicate with Vincent and the others, how to defeat so many indistinguishable pokémon? She was used to wild pokémon, yes, but one or two at a time – not an army of toothy and starving unpredictability.
Another mightyena had joined Capucine and Lambert – Three. Capucine looked at Claire, waiting her order, and Claire discovered she couldn't think, staring at her cacturne wordlessly.
"Capucine," Sophie called, from afar, "brick-break the mightyena fighting Lambert; Lambert, use dig and switch."
Claire turned to look, both offended and angry. How dared she command another's pokémon? But then, when she turned, ready to order them herself, Lambert escaped the jaws of Two and hid underground, and Capucine's arm struck the suddenly target-less mightyena. Two passed out, whining briefly, but Claire saw the other one strike, jumping, ready to maim Capucine's leafy throat. Her heart stopped, tight, and began to beat again when Lambert stabbed at One's stomach from the ground. It coughed, thick red blood bubbling between its teeth, and then fainted.
Claire stared, briefly shocked, but the battle did not let her rest. Smile passed, fleeting, its smaller body sleek amidst the bigger ones. Mike was shouting, "can someone get rid of her already," and Claire thought it fitting that Smile would be a female, but did not know why.
"Dig again," Claire shouted at Lambert, "and get rid of anything that moves over you! Filter soft paws!"
Her sandslash did not even pause to nod, burrowing underground and escaping a bite – Four – by inches. Capucine was fighting Three, now, trying to evade until Claire ordered her. Four stilled, confused at her sandslash's sudden disappearance, but inevitably chose to turn to the closest pokémon: Capucine. Claire opened her mouth –
"Capucine, spike and leech seed every mightyena you see," Sophie said again, her voice calm even as she released a tired-looking swalot. It yawned in time to inflict sleep on a passing mightyena, but it took another's crunch right in its soft arm. Claire made a rude gesture at Sophie, while Capucine began spewing out seed after seed, eyes frantic for targets. "Swalot, poison that one and sludge bomb the rest."
"Ta guele! These are my pokémon, salope!" she shouted, trying to get her hair out of her eyes.
"You need to attack and, or, weaken the largest number of pokémon available," Sophie replied blandly, watching her swalot ooze a purple liquid out of his arm's uninjured skin; the mightyena that had bitten it was now flinching, and the swalot took the chance to counter, effectively knocking it out. "Do not forget this is not a regulated battle," she added, brown eyes sitting on Claire's blue, "this is a matter of weakening and disposing of a high quantity of enemies."
"I know," Claire lied, teeth grit, and released Bjorg with a grimace. She had been meaning to save her for later, in case of an emergency. But something told her that this was the emergency – and Claire would have to swallow her carefully made plans, for now. Her pride as a strategist, as well. "Iron defense first, and then double-edge every single one!" Then, lower: "Make sure they don't get up."
Her lairon nodded, clenching her steely plates tightly together, and began smashing her considerable weight against whatever mightyena dared attack her. Claire looked away, checking up on her cacturne (currently tossing a smaller mightyena onto another). Claire had defeated four already, but how many left to go? There were some knocked-out mightyena lying around, but it seemed that with every mightyena they defeated, another two came howling out of the tall grass.
The biggest population of mightyena resides in Route 120, Mr. Lehrer had said. They are, of course, divided in packs of ten or so, so it is relatively safe to travel without being accosted by a large number. An experienced trainer should have no difficulty dispatching the alpha mightyena, and in doing so, will confirm their superiority, therefore forcing the pack to retreat.
Claire had already tried to find the alpha, but – there were so many mightyena. How was she supposed to find the one? Was there even just one? It seemed like the ordinary packs had blended into a gigantic one, so how was she supposed to use Mr. Lehrer's advice?
She paused on her lairon: Bjorg was taking care of two at a time, but Claire knew no mightyena would ever defeat a lairon in a wild encounter, so she turned to look at Capucine—
Vincent pushed her at the same time something black and large jumped. They fell on the mud, and Claire could barely feel the viscous dirt sucking at her skin, because her eyes went white and her chest went hot. Her head, too, though it felt more numb and scalding than anything else. Vincent was panting, his breath warm against her cheek, and when the blindness faded out, Claire saw Vincent's persian slamming a mightyena away from the two of them.
It didn't last long; Vincent mumbled a distracted apology and rose to his knees, wiping his bloody nose, his eyes focused on the battle around them. Claire, breathless, stared at the sky until a drop of icy water hit her on the eye. The stinging pain woke her somewhat, and she thanked him softly, trying to gather her bearings.
Trying.
Capucine skidded to a halt beside her, digging tracks in the mud, and Claire saw the mightyena – Five? Or was it Six? – on its hind legs, biting at her crossed arms, trying to reach her throat. "Tuer," she whispered automatically, her lungs still reeling, but it was enough. Vincent climbed off of her, running away to meet one of his pokémon – Claire didn't see which. But she saw Capucine's thorns gather into a needle arm, and she saw her drag it across the mightyena's neck, and she saw it die.
It was so quiet, Claire thought, noticing Five fall right down next to her, shaking. Capucine whined, like she was about to cry, and Claire looked at her, feeling empty. Her arm was slick and dark red, dripping pink from the rain. Was this how Alex had died? Torn apart by teeth? His backpack had been bloody, ravaged through, dirty with mud. His trainer license had been spattered with his blood. His packed clothes, ripped. Was that how it would go? She thought of her father, waiting for her at home. She thought of her mother, missing for years. Why was she thinking about this?
"Wake the fuck up, Colonel," Mike shouted from afar, voice almost breaking, "we're retreating!"
Why was there a colonel, she thought, slowly rubbing at the eye where the raindrop had smacked against. Dimly, she felt someone pulling her up, and she almost tripped and fell again. Everything was woozy, she realized, grasping for anything to hold onto; Vincent obliged, placing his arm around her shoulders and bringing her up with his other. His nose was still bloody, despite the heavy rain, and Claire thought it extremely important to tell him.
"You're still," she said vaguely, and pointed at her nose. Vincent looked at her, eyes wide, and then searched for something behind her back. The landscape behind him was blurry, but it felt like it was moving. Claire blinked once, then twice. "Are we going somewhere?" She couldn't quite remember what, exactly, she had been doing. Capucine and Lambert were by her side, eyeing her worriedly as they ran, and Claire frowned. "My chest hurts," she told Vincent, and when she tried to find her pokémon again, they were gone.
"I can't believe she's not dead with all the shit she's been through," Mike said from somewhere, mockingly dramatic, but Claire wasn't stupid, and she saw the worry in his eyes. Eyes? She could see him, suddenly. Had he been there the whole time? And what was Claire forgetting? There was something about blood and a backpack, but her bag was fine, just muddy. Everyone's bags were fine, really, the only thing bloody was Vincent's nose and Mike's pants, but they had been bloody since forever—
"Blink for me," Sophie said, short of breath. Claire blinked, unimpressed at her plea. "What's fifteen plus twenty-eight?"
"Forty-three," Mike said automatically, and then winced. Claire glared at him. "Sorry, that kind of just – came out."
Sophie was looking at him, now, eyebrow raised. Were they still walking? Claire looked down at her feet, and if it hadn't been for Vincent restraining her, she would have lost her balance and fallen on her face. But they were running, she could see that at least, though she didn't really know how she could be running with her ankle in that condition – and then she remembered.
"What happened?" she asked slowly, blinking, trying to get her hair out of her face.
"Vinnie thought the mightyena wouldn't kill you, so he tried to do the job himself," Mike said, smirking half-heartedly. He was out of breath, too. In fact, they were all out of breath, though Claire felt fine. She tried to focus, closing her eyes and touching the back of her head. It was sensitive, and it ached, but she thought it would probably be alright. She always came out alright. She needed to, in the end – she would only allow herself to die after attaining the Champion title.
"Sorry," Vincent said, through quick gasps of air. Claire looked up at him, found his face too close, and then realized he was carrying her again. She took the chance to wipe his nose with her wrist, peeved at the stain. She didn't particularly like blood – she could handle it (she could handle anything), but she would rather not. Vincent's face reddened, and Claire was amused, before she realized she wasn't angry.
"Why am I not angry?" she asked Sophie. "Where are the mightyena?"
"You're not angry because you've hit your head. You'll be fine in a while, I believe; you are blinking and functioning correctly, albeit a little slowly and out-of-character. You need to sleep." Sophie would talk like a doctor even while running, and Claire thought it was fascinating. But she didn't want to sleep – she'd always slept when they entered a secret base, and she was tired of being the weakest one. Sophie went on, unaware of her plights. "We have fled the hill top, and are currently attempting to reach the ledge you mentioned earlier."
"The ledge?" Claire pulled her wrist away from Vincent's mouth slowly, setting it on her lap. Her legs were swaying with every wide step Vincent took, but Claire soon grew tired of watching them and instead leaned against Vincent's chest, feeling drowsy.
"Don't fall asleep, please," Sophie said sharply, eyes focused on Claire's face.
"Okay. Vincent's just hot, that's probably why I'm sleepy," Claire replied, just as seriously. Mike tripped, and had to hold onto Sophie's arm to avoid falling; Vincent stumbled slightly, his arms tensing under her back and folded legs. And Sophie just frowned slightly, half-concerned. Probably. It was hard to tell, with her. "Which ledge are we going to?" she asked, then, turning to Vincent.
He leant away from her face, looking pink in the white light, and glanced over to Mike for salvation. But Mike was looking at her wide-eyed and confused, and Claire knew something terrible was going to happen. It usually did, she thought, especially when he missed an opportunity to tease Vincent.
"What do you mean, which ledge?" he asked slowly, jogging slowly. Claire could see the landscape coming to a halt, and her legs had stopped swaying. They had stopped. "There's only one ledge."
"No," Claire replied slowly, trying to stifle a yawn, "there are two. One leads to the eastern side of the bridge," she lifted a finger, "and one leads to the western side of the bridge," she completed, lifting another. "See? Two."
"Are you sure she's alright?" Mike asked Sophie, panicking, and Sophie nodded, albeit a little unsurely.
"The bridge is out of commission," Claire went on, oblivious, trying to focus, "which means we need to climb over the western ledge using Vincent's climbing gear. The eastern side is a dead-end."
"So that means that if we take the eastern side, we'll be backed into a corner?" he asked.
"Yes," Claire huffed, starting to feel slightly annoyed, "didn't you study geography in school? Normally," she started, reciting Mr. Lehrer's lessons, "Route 120 ends after the southern bridge, though in an emergency – such as bridge repairs or other – the westernmost ledge can be climbed over to allow access to the south."
Mike kept quiet, his face horror-stricken, and Claire opted to ignore him, trying to see where they were. Her eyes were adjusting, and not everything was as blurry as before, but in the end, it was her ears that picked up on the sound of water, even through the rain. She was trying to figure out where it came from when Sophie broke the silence, pinching the bridge of her nose patiently.
"We have bad news for you," she said, and then Claire understood. Mike, beside her, looked worn-out and ready to give up. Vincent seemed to have lost the ability to blush, his face pale and weary.
"It's fine," Claire replied, fighting the urge to curl up against Vincent and sleep, "we just have jump in."
"Jump?" Mike repeated, dumb-stricken, and then his eyes slid to the lake stirring behind them. Claire couldn't see yet, but she knew that Mike would able to recognize the ruins in the distance; it seemed like all their efforts had been for naught. They were virtually in the same place, though now they were cornered. But the solution was so easy – couldn't they see?
"Yes," she said drowsily, "just like what we did with the Aqua mooks."
"Wait, wait, wait, what we did with the Aqua guys was just sliding across a muddy hill, not jump into stormy water full of wood debris and stuff," he said, little frantic. "Besides, we're too way up from here! Can't we just—"
"No," Claire cut in, patting her belt, "we surf across and finally leave the tall grass behind. It'll take 'em time to cross over, since they'll either go through the forest or the ledge." She frowned, smacking her tongue. "Where are my pokémon?"
"They're trailing behind us," Mike said, looking queasy. He turned to look at the water again, bringing a hand to his face. "That looks really, really dangerous."
"So, what is the plan?" Sophie asked Claire, staring behind them, straining to see. "We do not have much time to decide; I believe the mightyena are catching up."
"And you left my pokémon—?" Claire hissed, eyes wide and furious; Sophie paused, for a second.
"Not just your pokémon," she corrected, "and they are putting a plan in action. Do you possess a surfing pokémon?"
Claire nodded, still angry, picking Océane's pokéball and closing her fingers around it. The grass they had left behind rustled from afar, and Mike looked terrified, so she showed him her tentacruel's ball, trying to give him ease of mind. Mike only ran a hand through his hair, pressing his lips together.
"She can take us all," Claire assured. "Use your flying pokémon to jump in. You go first," she added, looking at Mike. "Your altaria can take you two at the same time."
"Seriously?" he moaned, one hand at his mouth. "Can't we just fly over?"
"I would strongly advise you not to," Sophie replied, her brown hair whipping against her face. It seemed she didn't have a scrunchie either, Claire thought sadly. "If you are thrown against the walls, you will probably die," she added, after sweeping the lake with her eyes.
Claire looked away from Mike, who was looking paler and paler, and stared at Vincent's jaw contemplatively.
"You go with them," she said, staring at his eyes, like Alex had always done whenever he wanted free stuff, "so you can help Mike. I'll wait for his altaria to return and go after you three."
Vincent nodded tightly, pink-faced again. Claire assumed it was from holding her, but why? He had hardly looked at her in the battle, hadn't even blushed or stammered, just apologized and ran to meet his fighting pokémon. He was a trainer. He was, she was sure, he had to be, and he was good. She supposed this made things harder, but she was willing to try. The tall grass was her goal, in the end.
He let her down carefully, and tried his best to keep his face away from hers as she tried to regain her balance, her arm around his neck. Mike was helping Sophie up on his tired-looking altaria, still looking horrified, and Vincent released his crobat, petting its head warmly. Claire counted her remaining pokéballs; she would have to dismiss Océane, and her other three were still trailing behind. That left Victor and – no one else. Would he be able to protect her until the rest arrived?
Victor was the most important one. Victor couldn't die, couldn't faint – he was the only one who knew who Alex's murderer was, and he needed to tell her. He knew it, too. Claire had tied Alex's torn scarf around his neck and told him, 'when you smell one just like this', and that was all she'd needed to say.
There had been a lot of mightyena, before, but Claire had told her pokémon to kill, and maybe now there wouldn't been so many. She felt queasy. Vincent let go of his crobat, who stared at Claire first and at the arm around his waist later. It seemed like his pokémon were protective of him, she thought, letting go of his waist briskly and releasing Océane into the space above the hill. Mike's breathing stopped as her tentacruel materialized, and then fell in the water with a loud, heavy splash. The waves crashed loudly beneath her weight, stirring the lake even more.
"That's – she's – she's huge," Mike said, holding onto Nim's neck with white knuckles.
"Sorry!" Claire shouted into the abyss, and Océane blinked at her sleepily, raising one large tentacle in greeting. The rowdy waves made her sway back and forth, but Océane could anchor herself on the wet rock walls, and she would be a somewhat steady ride. "I'm using you as a boat for a second!"
"Aren't they usually smaller? They're smaller, right? Is this normal?"
"The older they are, the larger they grow," Sophie replied dully, sitting behind him. "You should hurry," she added, after a beat, sounding a little impatient.
"R-Right." The smaller boy leant to say something to Nim, and Claire took her chance.
"You go first – command my tentacruel for me while I wait for Mike's altaria to return," she whispered to Vincent, fiddling with Victor's pokéball. "And for the rest of our pokémon," she added, guilty that she'd forgotten in the first place.
"Um, they're just, um, yours and mine," Vincent slowly confessed, "Sophie's swalot fainted, and ah, Hemlock too." Claire looked at him, eyes wide, and he urgently tacked on: "It's, um, it's fine! They were right behind, um, us – t-they should be here any second—"
He was lucky; the cavalry had, indeed, arrived. Mike and Sophie were half-way down, though, and they didn't see. Capucine and Lambert burst through the tall grass, looking battered and bloody. Claire's heart leapt with worry, but Bjorg and Chama trailed immediately after them, Vincent's steelix at the end of the line.
Vincent returned them as soon as he could, his crobat walking around him, wings protectively closed around his body. The wind was bothering him, she assumed. Her pokémon crowded around her, catching their breaths. Claire smiled.
"Um, I can take us both, y-you know," Vincent said, a hopeful smile on his face, and Claire turned to him, watched how close he was standing by the abyss that lead to the water below. Mike and Sophie were waiting below, and though Claire couldn't tell what kind of faces they were making, she would be able to guess in a second.
"I'm sorry," she replied, pushing him hard with trembling hands.