"Singing I know, I know, I know, I know, I know my love can be…

It gazes back, sings to me, I know my love can be…

The Killing Kind."

Machamp was aggressively guarding the door. The moment we walked in Brock set down the injured and shivering Blue onto the couch, pulling a small knitted blanket over him that was already resting on the cushions. Bill informed Brock where all the different rooms were and where he kept the medicine, and the brunet teen was able to wet a rag and ring out most of the water before resting the rag across the sleeping Blue's forehead.

Seeing both of them like this, Blue injured and Brock so worried…

It hurt.

Neither of them deserved this. Watching Brock care for Blue, acting in a way so similar to what I used to back in the Hoenn base, was… gods- I can't even describe it. I hated it. I hated everything in this world that wasn't them.

Blue probably hasn't eaten in days considering how long he must have down there in the underground hideout, and I murmured this under my breath to Brock about how we needed to get the boy some food. I was uncomfortable around this talking Nidorino, if only because of a certain psychic legendary that left severe burns on my right arm, but I couldn't help but feel some relief at knowing that Blue wasn't going to get himself killed because of a stupid theory he had.

Thank gods it wasn't Mewtwo…

My hands were shaking as I stood and pulled the blanket further up, covering Blue's shoulders and tucking him in slightly while Brock asked the talking Nidorino if he could borrow the kitchen. Bill agreed, but only if he would help him with the machine. Glancing back at us and seeing how I was watching over Blue, observing the auburn-haired boy's breathing, Brock agreed.

I just… don't understand it. Blue tried so hard to act like he was fine, that his pain and fever wasn't doing much to him, but in reality it just made everything worse. Why? What did he gain from pretending? I think he didn't want to worry anyone, but I feel like not telling his family is only going to make them worry more. Blue was breathing so heavily, too… his face so very pale.

It reminded me too much of how sickly Adrien was when Team Rocket first brought him in.

Please… get better soon.

Umbreon paced the floor nervously, before sitting down at the foot of the couch next to Blue. Ansem barked and joined her, while Belladonna and Basil sat near my feet. Gods, what would I say to the professor if something happened to his grandson? I don't even want to think about it. Imagining the conversation, the anger that would shine in his once gentle gaze, the warmth from him that would turn to hate…

The fury that would encompass him once he realized that the child he saved had led to his grandson's demise.

My grip on the blanket tightened, a lump forming in my aching throat. I had to force myself to let go, trembling hands curling near my chest as something indescribably awful washed over me.

All my life I was so used to being yelled and despised, of being beaten and abused, but the thought of those kind people I had met turning around and acting like those cruel adults I had grown up with was… worse than anything I had ever felt before. The fear of them despising me, of abandoning and rejecting me, was like… claws tearing into my chest, ripping me apart. All the noise began to shut down around me, the fear of Professor Oak, of Yuna, of even Brock despising me taking over. They were such incredibly, stupidly kind people and yet... I was scared.

So very scared, in fact, of the idea of that they and… even my pōkemon… might leave me.

That they might reject me.

I… I don't want that.

I don't want them to wonder why they wasted all their kindness on me, on why Blue wasted his kindness on me. I-I don't want… to be left alone.

I don't want to be rejected anymore. I want them to stay with me. I can't protect them and yet I still selfishly wish that they'll remain by my side, even though it's my fault that they keep getting into danger. It was all because Blue was trying to help me that he wound up like this…

If we never met then he would never be trying to get involved with Team Rocket.

I…

I-I…

I can't… have that. Whatever is left of me might just fall part and shatter if that happened. I can feel it trying to happen now, too, body shaking uncontrollably as the world became empty around me. I wasn't even really breathing anymore, head hanging low as I choked on my own voice. Did I deserve to be hated like I was?

Mistress Augusta always saw right through me… she must have known what kind of person I was. What I would be driven to do.

Causing the deaths of so many… all by sheer accident because of a most of foolish improvisation, spurred on by a heartache for the pōkemon that had been locked up and lied to for so long. Who had been experimented on before he was even born. Mewtwo…

Were we really so different? Did I even have the right to be afraid of him?

Causing disaster, hurting people… and lacking purpose or knowledge of who we are…

Weren't we the same?

A sudden nudge against my ankle snapped me out of my thoughts and I jumped. Looking down, I could see Basil and Belladonna gazing at me with misty red eyes, and it was then I realized- they felt it. Every negative emotion coursing through me. It upset them, worried them. These kind-hearted pōkemon whom I've only known for such a short time, and they… cared so much for me.

It was hard to believe, even after all this time…

And that only made it all the more horrible to imagine them leaving me. Inhaling shakily and sniffling a bit, I blinked away the stinging sensation in my eyes and knelt down, patting both grass-types on the head. I was going to be fine. Everything… is going to be fine.

Blue, especially, is going to be fine.

Because… he has to be.

I don't know what I'd do if he wasn't.

"Hey, kid! I'm gonna climb inside the teleporter, so you rush over to that computer and run the Cell Separation System, okay? It'll take just a few seconds!" Hearing Bill's voice, I turned to see Brock head over to a computer desk. The talking pōkemon stood on his hind legs as he dashed over to the teleporter, fumbling with his claws to open the door. He crawled inside, the door closing after him. "Okay, I'm ready!"

"On three!" Brock said, typing away on the keyboard. "One, two… three!"

He rested his right hand on a… mouse? Yes, that's what it was called. A computer mouse. My eyebrows knitted together as my head began to ache, memories trying and failing to drift to the surface. Brock used the mouse and moved it, finger clicking something, and then…

Ansem's eyes went wide. The Eevee stood up straight and barked, dashing forward to see the machines act up. The teleporter began to flicker and flow, electricity dancing about as the cogs and cords did their thing. But then… the electricity grew crazier and stronger, and before I knew what I was doing I was rushing over, hoisting Ansem up into my arms, whirling around instinctively with my back facing the machine as it exploded- smoke filling the area and pieces of equipment flying.

"Hey!" Brock was shouting, his voice ringing throughout the room, the boy unable to see through all the smoke. "Is everyone okay!?"

There was so much coughing. From him, from me, from the pōkemon… and from the Nidorino that was now running out of the broken machine. A loud thump could be heard, and then a person stumbled out of the smoke- early twenties and with messy red hair and dirtied clothes. The man staggered about the room with wide brown eyes for a moment before collapsing to his knees and coughing.

"H-Holy moly, it actually worked…!"

This person… separated from the Nidorino? He was the one who was talking to us before? Shook from this unbelievable situation my voice failed to come out, mind going blank from shock. I had been so relieved that the talking pōkemon wasn't Mewtwo and yet… I wasn't sure if I could comprehend what was happening. It seemed totally illogical. But, then again, a talking pōkemon in-and-of itself was a bit strange, physic or otherwise.

Brock dashed over and opened up one of the windows, trying to get some of the smoke to disperse as he covered his face with his arm. He continued to cough, but once he got the window open and cracked the front door a bit the air started to clear. "A… Are you Bill?"

"Y-Yes siree, that'd be me!" The red-haired man exclaimed, patting his arms and feeling his legs to make sure all his body parts were intact. He patted his chest and felt his face, letting out a small sigh. "Thank goodness… I really owe ya one, bud!"

This person just… came out of a pōkemon. Or was it the pōkemon came out of the person? They were one, then they seperated? How was that even possible? I knew there was quite a bit of advanced technology, but to combine a human and pōkemon together and then separate them? If Team Rocket ever found out about this person's machine…

I almost shivered. I didn't want to imagine the terrible things they would do.

"Oh, right, your friend!" Bill cleared his throat, brushing off his clothes and walking over to where Blue was. I tensed and was about to stop him, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me. Brock. I looked up at him with big eyes, not understanding why he was being so trusting towards this stranger. Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say I was refusing to acknowledge why. Bill frowned deeply, golding his arms over his chest as he carefully observed the sleeping boy's form. "What happened? He's beaten all over the place… Cerulean City is about two miles from here, so you should take him to the hospital or pōkecenter for help as soon as possible."

"That's our plan." Brock told him calmly, keeping a firm grip on my shoulder so as to stop me from doing anything reckless. The touch calmed me, though my mind was still going wild. Could we trust this Bill? We knew nothing about him. I know it was my idea to come here, but still… I was reluctant. "We want to wait until his fever breaks first, though. Is it okay if we stay here until then?"

"Hm? Oh, of course!" Bill flashed a smile, unfolding his arms and resting his hands on his waist. "After what you guys did for me? Stay as long as you need. Are you kids hungry? I can show you to the kitchen, though the ingredients I have aren't much…"

"You mean it?" Brock brightened. He looked down at me, smiling widely. "How's that sound, Grunt? Wanna help me cook?"

I stared blankly at that, dumbfounded. "I… I don't know how to…"

Aside from basic survival tactics, I knew nothing about domestic work. What Brock did for me and the pōkemon during our travels was a whole other level. Seeing Bill's great confusion upon hearing what I was called, my mind went back to what I thought before- of whether or not I should keep the horrid title that was bestowed upon me.

I've gone by it for so long it would… feel weird to not use it. What would anyone even call me by if not that? I don't have a name; I grew up without one. Only a degrading, insulting title meant to mock me. I…I have no idea. What should I do?

What would… that person buried deep in my memory… want me to do?

I'm at a loss.

Taking Ansem from me and setting him gently on the ground, Brock rested a hand on my upper back and began to guide me towards the kitchen, the male oddly enthusiastic. I blinked, not sure how to react as he rambled on all excitedly about how he was going to teach me to cook. "This is gonna be great! And once we're done and have our bellies full, we can rest a bit until Blue is able to be moved again. It's been a very long day."

We were underground from midday to daybreak. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, I could feel just how exhausted I was. That isn't to say that I'm always tired, because for some reason I feel constantly worn out, but… there's a difference between tired and tired-tired. I think. Wait, is any of this making sense?

I need sleep. But… Brock looks so happy right now; it was nice. Relaxing.

This warmth… I didn't want to lose it. I want to keep it with me.

"Blue needs something healthy, and you need to eat a bit more… so…" Brock rubbed his chin as we entered the kitchen, the boy pulling away from me and pulling his backpack off his shoulders. I tilted my head and watched, utterly silent, curious and greatly confused as to what part I was going to be playing in the creation of dinner. Opening his backpack, he rummaged through it for… stuff. He pulled out an apron, several pots and pans and cooking utensils, and his portable cooler. Brock grinned. "Alright!"

I still questioned how he made everything fit in there, but it was a pretty large backpack. I'm amazed it wasn't overflowing. It must be even bigger on the inside.

Wait… that doesn't make sense.

Brain- just… stop. Stop thinking. If you keep this up you're gonna make me blurt out something that'll actually cause everyone to hate me.

Ugh.

"Ack!" Brock suddenly let out a startled shout and I jumped, looking up at him with wide eyes and tensing, acting reflexively to the yell. Objects spread out over the table, he slammed a palm to his forehead. "I can't believe- Grunt, your medicine! You still have it in your backpack, right?"

"Y-Yeah, I-I think…?" That scared me. I let out a small breath, trying to calm myself as I slid the backpack off and set it on the ground. I ignored the fact that Bill was watching us from the kitchen doorway, the man utterly curious about the kids that were now taking refuge in his house. "Um, h-here."

I held the bottles up for Brock to see, half expecting him to take them. He stared at me, wondering what I was waiting for, and I hesitantly lowered them.

"What?"

He shook his head at me, a half-smile on his face. "Nothing. Here, I have some bottled water you can drink them with." Brock pulled a bottle out and handed it to me. I stared at it and then at the medicine bottles in my hand, wondering if I was supposed to take them now. He walked over, resting a hand gently on my head, patting me, before making his way over to the sink. "Once you're done taking them put on the spare apron I've got and wash your hands. Oh- and roll up your sleeves, too. We don't want them getting in the food."

I… I guess I was supposed to swallow the pills now.

This is so weird. Having someone going out of their way to… to…

What? Remind me to watch my health? Having pain killers was new enough to my body, causing them to be super effective and almost leaving me drowsy, and… I'm not even sure about the other medicine. But… Brock was always telling me to care for myself, reminding me that I mattered, and was always complimenting me and helping me. He stood beside me without malice.

He… He patted my head… so gently.

An image flashed through my mind, mind deciding it wanted to recall the time I fought him in the Pewter City gym. He had been a bit cold to me back then, but when I was knocked down he helped me stand back up. And his siblings… he didn't push them away when they clung to him. They were all so caring and loving towards him. And when they were all trying to make me promise to let him tag-along with me, Brock was so very affectionate with each-and-ever one of them.

The way he treated them…

...and the way he treated me…

It was almost like…

No. No, no, no.

I almost choked on the water as I swallowed the pills, something painful wrapping around my heart. What did I even know about family? The only thing I know about siblings were what I've seen since coming into the outside world. Even then it's so little. But what Brock said back in the underground hideout… when he was trying to convince me to rely on him more…

There was no way he was actually insinuating he thought of me as a little sister, right?

I'm not…

No. I'm just… being selfish thinking that he did. Thinking that I could find a family in his own.

Growing numb, I slowly made my way over the table and set the bottled water down, rolling my sleeves up and momentarily finding myself staring at the palms of my hands as I did so. They really were so small, with short and bony fingers, skin pale as could be. I gained a little more color since my escape, but it was so very little. My left wrist was as crooked as ever, and as I bent my fingers I still could feel no pain or movement. Going from just below my right elbow all the way to my wrist was a pressure garment, but peeking out just slightly from the bottom one could see the scarring red of semi-recent burns.

I know… Brock has been trying to make me like myself. In trying to convince me that everything that happened with the Team Rocket headquarters wasn't my fault. But…

I'm not good enough to be anyone's family member.

There's no way I could even allow myself to be a part of such a place. These tiny hands are stained with the blood of the others. And cooking… would I even be any good at it? All I've ever been good at was destroying things. What if by my helping cook something terrible occurs to the food and ends up giving everyone some kind of food poisoning? What if I put in the wrong ingredients? What if when Blue ingests the food he gets even more sick and-

"Hey." I inhaled sharply at the voice, an arm wrapping around my shoulders as Brock leaned down closer to my height. "You okay? That place didn't… stir up too many bad memories, did it?"

His voice was soft. Quiet. He wasn't going to make me talk if I didn't want to. Blinking, strangely stunned by his behavior even though it was something he would do on a normal basis, I realized something. My eyes were burning and my vision was misty, and… oh. I was crying. Recoiling away, ashamed and disgusted with my behavior, I brought my arms up and wiped my tears off with my sleeves.

Being upset over the fact that I selfishly wanted to be considered his sister, despite knowing the unlikeliness of that event ever happening, and horrified by my own anxious thoughts about cooking, I tried to shut my emotions down again. Yet… it was more difficult now than before. An hour ago I could have done it so easily. How come I can't now?

What was so different?

"It's okay." I didn't have time to think or react. The warmth that was Brock wrapped around me, the giant hugging me tightly. "It's gonna be okay. Blue's gonna get better. Those people aren't gonna hurt you. They aren't gonna hurt any of us anymore. We're going to put a stop to them."

This person…

I really didn't deserve to have him in my life.

Reaching up, I selfishly clung to his shirt and buried my face in his chest, eyes squeezing shut as the tears welled up all over again. Why is it he can always break down every single barrier with his very presence? A hand on my shoulder and I was calmed down, a few words said and I would no longer argue. His absence caused such great fear within me. His touch, which I used to abhor, I now found myself longing for.

When did I grow to trust him so much? When did I grow to wanthim in my life so much?

How come… I'm in such desperate need for affection?

Brock said nothing more as he let me hold on to him, clinging to him as though afraid he would vanish. And I was afraid- very afraid- that he would disappear one day. He was the pillar of support I never knew I needed. That I never knew until now that I had. In the half of a month I've known him, he's become so ridiculously dear to me. It was awful.

Being this clingy, this desperate for his comfort…

I truly am the worst.

But I've been deprived of love so long and now that I had it… I wanted to do everything I could to keep it.

And that made my fear of losing him even worse.

Was this what it was like to have a brother? Perhaps not exactly, but a little similar to it?

I took everything I had not to let the cursed tears fall. How I wanted to just stand here forever, pretending that Team Rocket didn't exist, pretending that everything was going to be alright so long as I had this person next to me. So long as I had a friend. But nothing good lasts forever, and I pulled myself away from him- mumbling apologies as I only grew more hateful and ashamed towards myself.

"Y-Yeah," I choked, swallowing down the lump in my throat, blinking fiercely to force the tears away, "Yeah…"

My head was throbbing. I clapped my hands to my cheeks, inhaling deeply as I tried to calm down. How on earth did this tiny body have so many emotions? What was the point? I wanted to show my feelings, but it felt like they just got in the way and so I continued to try and hide them. Yet the only pōkemon who can understand me when I shut down my emotions are my own, which makes communicating difficult.

Whenever I try to shut down Brock seems to think something is wrong, too, and while he isn't wrong it… is a little frustrating. Like, seriously. I already did way too much emotional stuff back in the underground hideout before and after we had found Blue. This needs to stop.

"I… I'm sorry."

"You're perfectly fine." He said to me, expression soft. "I'll go get everything ready to start, so you go wash up, okay?"

I nodded, pressing my palms to my eyes as if that would help the intense headache that had formed. Walking out of the kitchen, Bill- who had been awkwardly watching the whole thing- pointed me in the direction of the bathroom. I felt even worse when I realized that this man must feel so uncomfortable. I washed my face, cleaning off any remaining dirt and/or grime from my time travelling, and actually used the toilet. Then I waited until I had calmed down somewhat before leaving. Hands washed and ready for cooking, apron already on, I entered to find Brock organizing all the ingredients and setting a carrot on a cutting board.

Seeing me enter, and being nice enough not to mention what happened, he declared, "We're making cream stew! You ever have that before?"

My eyebrows knitted together at that, and I glanced at all the ingredients he had laid out. A carrot, an onion, many pieces of broccoli, boneless chicken thighs, chicken broth, oil, butter, flour, milk, salt, and white pepper. So many. "Uh… I… have no idea?" If I had I wouldn't really know, but I doubt it seeing how many things go into it. None of the meals I've ever eaten back in the base were this well thought out.

Then again, Brock always did go the extra mile with cooking. "Okay. Well, have you ever used a knife before?"

I tensed, panicking for a second, and ended up stumbling over my words. "I-I wasn't… I mean, I guess? I wasn't allowed in the kitchens, so…"

"I see." For a split second that dark look was back on his face, but then it was gone. He gestured for me to walk over. Brock was smiling again. "Well, that's fine! I can show you. It's good to spend time with friends and family, after all, and there's nothing more classic than cooking together!"

"You two must be close." I whirled around upon hearing Bill's voice, having not seen him sitting at the table when I entered the kitchen. He was peeling potatoes- probably per Brock's request- and was grinning at us. "How long have you all known each other? You're all trainers, right? Them's some mighty-lookin' pōkemon you got with you!"

Brock hummed as he pulled out a bowl, carefully pulling apart the broccoli and setting them inside it. "Let's see… I met Grunt about… hmm. When was it? A few weeks ago?" He looked down at me curiously. "It feels like it's been forever since you came to Pewter City."

"O-Oh…" I lowered my head at that, not sure how to discern that comment. "Sorry."

The boy appeared genuinely confused as he set a broccoli head down into the bowl. "What for? You didn't do anything wrong. Anyway-" He picked the bowl up and poured the broccoli into the boiling water, setting a lid overtop the pot. Brock grabbed the knife, carefully holding it out to me to see with a smile. "- it's time to get cutting. You want to hold it like this, okay? Also, we need to peel the carrot first. That's a bit more dangerous so I'm gonna go ahead and do that for you."

And so he did, demonstrating how to peel a carrot before chopping off a thin piece. He did it with such ease, truly showing his many years of dedication to the craft of cooking.

"Exactly like that, Grunt. Can you do it?"

Can I… do it? No one's ever asked me if I could do something; they just automatically assumed me able. And if I didn't do what was told to me I would get punished. This, however… was different. Brock wasn't really expecting me to do anything. I mean, I think he wanted me to cut the carrot, but he wasn't going to lash out if I said I couldn't.

Shaking a little, I reached out and grabbed the knife. I faced the counter, standing on my toes to see the carrot fully. As I got to work tentatively slicing them into individual slices, the boy himself got to work. He let the broccoli boil and went over to Bill, slicing up the potatoes that were peeled into many separate pieces- varying from eight to twelve with each potato. Then he got to work cutting up the chicken thighs, which then went into a pot with oil, cooking until lightly browned. By the time I was done with the carrot he was having me chop an onion, and with the chicken broth already boiled Brock added the chicken thigh pieces.

Wow, he's… frick. I've seen Brock cook before, but this was insane.

He was multitasking like it was nothing. I could barely get done chopping four pieces before he's already off and doing something else.

Once the potatoes were peeled and chopped up, Brock took them and the rest of the sliced veggies. He poured them into a pan, having me watch closely as he cooked everything. Brock then mixed the veggies together with the chicken and broth, and melting butter and flour in another pan he gradually added milk. He whisked constantly to the point that I found it exhausting just watching him. Yet, he wasn't bothered at all; the boy was actually seeming to enjoy himself.

And I think… a part of me was, too? It was weird. I wasn't really doing anything anymore, I was merely standing there and watching. But he looked like he was having so much fun.

It was… nice seeing him happy for once. It was much better than that worried look he's had on the past few days.

"This is gonna be the sauce." Brock told me, smiling. "This is the part where we add it to the stew, see?"

He lifted the pan and poured the cream into the still-boiling pot, stirring and adding the broccoli before seasoning it. Bill came over to watch at one point, inhaling deeply as the smell wafted through the kitchen. "That smells mighty delicious! You really know what you're doin'."

"Thanks." Brock beamed, appreciating the compliment. "I've had years of practice."

Hands grabbing the edge of the counter, I watched as he placed a lid over the pot and let it steam. Did he like being told he was good at something? If that's the case…

"He's always cooking for everyone when we're travelling." I found myself saying, though a bit awkward and quiet in the way I said it. Seeing how he reacted to Bill's words I had the strange urge to praise him. Brock looked down at me in surprise, having not expected me to speak up or add to the conversation. "He… works really hard. I-I mean, I can't really taste the food so… it probably doesn't mean anything when I say it, but…"

My heels touched the ground as I lowered my head, realizing how empty my attempt at a compliment must be when I can't even say that I enjoyed the food he made.

"I-I mean, the pōkemon… like it. And it looks nice… so- yeah."

I feel like such an idiot. My lips drew into a thin line and mentally berated myself for trying to join in the conversation. I should have just remained silent like I usually do. These feelings are so dumb. I wish they would just stop. It would make it easier for when he eventually leaves, anyway. It's not like I actually need anyone with me.

I was alone before, so… I can be alone again. I have my pōkemon.

At least, I will until they leave me too…

I jolted when an arm wrapped around my shoulders, Brock carefully pulling me to his side without getting too close to the stove, startling me with the sudden abruptness of his action. "Thanks! I'm sure you'll be able to taste food again someday, though. When that happens, let me know and I'll cook you all sorts of different food!" He smiled brightly down at me, not at all offended by anything I had said. "We'll find out everything you like and dislike!"

He said it so confidently, like he was actually convinced my sense of taste would come back.

I'm not sure how to feel or how to react to it.

Bill- who was still at the table and eagerly awaiting dinner- blinked, not sure what he was witnessing. This poor man was looking more and more concerned the more he saw of my interactions with Brock. He had no idea about any of the children he had welcomed into his home. "You can't… taste food?"

I shook my head, not saying a word as I remained at Brock's side, hands slowly raising to latch onto his shirt. It was irrational, but as he held me in such an affection way I found myself… scared. More scared than just thinking he would hate me. I felt like if I let go of him for even a second he might just… vanish. That maybe he was never real at all and I had simply imagined this kind person.

The fear of losing him… was as great as my fear of losing Blue. Of losing my dawn stone.

This person… existed beside me, didn't he? He was real.

Brock wasn't a fading memory of someone I once knew. He was here.

My… friend. Someone I, shamefully, wanted to believe was like a brother to me.

"Ah, look! I think it's almost done." Pulling off the lid and stirring, Brock continued to let me cling to him as he tested the soup. "Yup. Perfect!" He looked down at me from over his shoulder, grinning. "Wanna try it? Maybe you'll taste it!"

My first instinct was to protest, but he looked so excited it was hard to decline. Blowing on the stew a little, I took a small sip and blinked, feeling the texture as I chewed and trying to discern how I felt about it. It was… creamy, I guess, if the title was anything to go by. Brock awaited eagerly for a response, not at all perturbed by my blank expression.

"It's…" I brought a hand up to my mouth, swallowing. "It's hot. Veggies are… chewy?"

His shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh, but the smile didn't drop. "Yeah, I kinda figured you'd say something like that… but still! I'm determined! I'm gonna go check on Blue now, if you wanna start dishing out the bowls. That okay with you?"

I nodded awkwardly, feeling awful for not being able to compliment him properly on something he so clearly prided himself on. He's always being so nice to me, but I can't even be nice to him in situations like this. How much more terrible a person can I be?

"Grunt, was it?" Bill's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I turned to face the adult, Brock leaving the kitchen. I took a tentative step away from the man, uncomfortable around him and perhaps a little intimidated, but I straightened my back and held my chin up, trying not to show it. His eyes drifted down to my crooked wrist, bandages, and the long pressure garment on my right forearm. "You and your friends must have been on quite the journey."

A small shrug. I headed over to the table where Brock had set all the bowls and silverware, grabbing them and setting them on the counter instead to make filling them easier.

"Ah, my apologies- let me help you." I narrowed my eyes when he grabbed the pot and ladle, pouring the stew into the bowl I was carrying before I could decline. It was my idea to come to this house, regardless of how unwilling I was to trust people, and I know I should probably be more like Brock and Blue in terms of dealing with adults. But… they're just so bothersome. I can't trust them. One never knows what they can be thinking, after all. "Does it hurt to carry things? Pardon my saying so, friend, but you look a bit worse for wear."

Friend…? Ah.

I had friends and I was technically the friends of others, so could I just go by "Friend" instead of "Grunt"? It wouldn't solve or change anything, nor give me anymore of an identity than what I already have, though the thought of it made me feel… lighter. Like the thought of the title was somewhat familiar.

That person I knew before… did he call me that?

"It's…" I hesitated to answer. Brock and Blue were chronic oversharers, who were very likely to blab about my past to this person too once they deemed it fit to do so. They were honest to a fault. I set the bowl down and grabbed another, pondering if moving really did hurt. I was so used to pain that I just started ignoring it after a certain point. It was just another day, after all. "It's fine. I'm… here. We were… on our way to find out about the "talking pōkemon" when we encountered Team Rocket. That's how we found Blue hurt."

Bill almost dropped the ladle. "You were searching for- blimey, you don't mean me, do you? And Team Rocket? That infamous criminal organization? What on earth did they want with your friend? Is that how you got so badly injured?"

I shook my head. Setting the second bowl down once it was filled, I held my crooked left hand up. "This was… when I was younger. This," I raised my right arm, "was several weeks ago. These," I raised a hand up to my neck, to my many band-aids, and the bandage covering the stitches on my forehead which were hidden by my bangs, "were almost a whole week ago. Brock's been… helping me since I beat him at Pewter City gym. And I met him… maybe three weeks ago? I've not really been keeping track."

It was a mess.

By the time I finished talking Bill looked utterly horrified. "That's…" He struggled to fill the last two bowls. I set them down on the counter and was about to head into the livingroom, but he started to speak again and I had to stop in my walk. "I know you kids are pōkemon trainers, an' mighty good ones at that, but… if things get real bad you should go home and heal. Don't push yourself for the sake of adventure. Especially not if Team Rocket is prowlin' about."

I said nothing to that, instead waiting a few seconds to see if he was going to add anything else. When it became clear he didn't, I entered the livingroom and was distraught to see that Blue was still fast asleep. Brock wiped some of the sweat off his face with the rag and stood, informing he was going to freshen the rag up again, and left for the kitchen. I sighed and knelt down beside the couch, frowning deeply as I gazed at our sickly companion.

This really was… too familiar.

Standing, I made my way to the armrest of the couch and climbed up- taking advantage of my short height and sitting on it. Leaning over, I began to comb my fingers through Blue's hair- unperturbed by how oily it was from having not been washed in who knows how long. It felt strange doing this after all this time, even stranger since this was someone older than me and not a small child, but… despite it all I started to hum.

What song it was I couldn't tell you. It was just one of many that had been with me for as long as I could remember, another one of those strange instances of me just knowing something without any actual recollection as to why. It left such a nostalgic feeling within me. Such a gentle tune…

If only I knew where it came from.

That was when it happened, a warmth suddenly bubbling up from my chest and into my throat, urging me to speak. My head hurt, but words were prodding at me- dying to come out and make themselves known. Memories that had long since been buried deep, trapped in an abyss I was not allowed into. And as my lips parted… a voice came out- soft and quiet, and very much raspy. The pōkemon startled upon hearing me, my voice far from pretty, but then they relaxed… listening to me sing.

"How can I repay you brother mine~?" I brushed the bangs out of the boy's face lightly, repeating the action as I continued to comb through his hair, "How can I expect you to forgive? Clinging to the past I shed our blood… and shattered your chance to~ live."

It really was such a sad, gentle tune. But it always seemed to do the trick, even without the words. I hummed for a bit, the pōkemon gathering closer to us. Basil and Belladonna huddled around my feet, Ansem hopping onto the couch and sitting on top of the back part. Machamp even temporarily moved away from his self-appointed station by the door, heading over to sit next to Umbreon.

"Though I knew the laws I paid no heed; how can I return your wasted breath~?" Where these words came from I had no idea, my skull threatening to split as they continued to spill from my lips, and though I could not understand why the emotion that was stirred up from these lyrics was almost unbearable. Pulling my hand away from Blue's head and resting it on the armrest, I took a deep breath. "What I did not know has cost you dear…"

I choked up a little, feeling a surge of emotion hit me hard in the chest. The pōkemon themselves looked like they were about to cry, sensing how much feeling was bubbling inside me.

"For… there is no cure for~ death. B-Beau… Beau..."

Yeah, nope. I can't. I can't do this. It's too much. The tears welled up at full force and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, inhaling sharply as I promptly buried my face into the side of the couch. All these feelings and emotions were so draining, starting to leave me feeling quite feverish myself. Digging my fingers into the fabric of the couch, I shuddered to imagine the look of anger and hate that were sure of form on the faces of both Professor Oak and Yuna when they find out about Blue.

Feeling a sob trying to work its way up my throat, I grit my teeth harshly together and a brought a hand up to my chest, digging my fingers into it as my heart continued to ache. It was so pointless; I don't even know why I was trying anymore. What was I even doing? Everything keeps ending in utter disaster. We got Blue out- but at what cost?

He wouldn't have even been there if not for me…

So broken and bruised, so pale and sick…

Because I escaped the Kanto Headquarters…

It was all my fault.

Silently walking back into the room, having heard everything, Brock maneuvered around the many misty-eyed pōkemon and set the the freshly cooled rag across Blue's forehead. The boy then looked at me, as deeply worried as ever. "Grunt…"

His voice had been but soft, utterly gentle as his hand rested lightly on my shoulder.

But I have had enough. I was tired of these games.

And unable to hold back anymore, the tears spilled forth and blurred my vision, strands of hair sticking to my face as I snapped and turned towards him. "Don't!" Between the crying and the splitting headache that was causing spots to dance in my sight, I couldn't really see at all. But there was still a fire- a burning hate towards those who had raised me. "Don't you dare c-call me that anymore…!"

He was very much startled. Not upset in the slightest, save perhaps for his own anger and sadness towards what happened with the underground base, and when he spoke he sounded genuinely confused. "If… not that, then what…?" He stepped closer, leaning against the armrest and trying to get a bit closer to my height. "What do you want to be called?"

What I… want?

My lips curled back and I ducked down, the sob nearly ripping itself out of my throat as I spoke. "I-I don't know…! I-I just…" I brought a hand up, biting down on the soft part of my palm near by thumb to muffle the sob and to try and distract myself from the pain. "I don't want… that. N-Not that, anything but… but that…"

I don't want to be acknowledged as something those monsters had made.

I don't want to seen as the reason that Blue had thrown himself into their grasp.

I just want to be myself- whoever that stranger "me" may be.

Before I could say anything self-deprecating or hateful, it had happened again. The comfort of his arms wrapping around me, pulling me into a firm hug. "Okay." Brock whispered, holding me close, "We'll think of something else. Something better. Something nice. Sound good?"

No words. No words would come out, no matter how badly I wanted them to. I simply choked up and sobbed, falling apart in his grasp as the world continued to fall apart around me. A title, a name; I didn't care what I went by. I had no identity either way. I didn't even really feel as though I existed.

But in this warmth… held in the grasp of someone sounding so sure of themselves and everything they said… for just a moment it felt like everything would be alright. Brock let out a small sigh and pulled away, and I watched in confusion when he reached a hand up to press against my forehead. "Jeez, you're burning up. This isn't good."

He looked around the livingroom, noting that there wasn't really anything else to lie on except the couch- and that was completely taken up by Blue. He looked back down at me with a small frown.

"Why don't we set up a sleeping bag for you? I'll get everything ready. You can eat first in the meantime."

"What…?"

He didn't give me much of a response. Brock was already heading into the kitchen, later walking out with his backpack and unlatching one of the sleeping bags from it. He laid it across the floor, pulling out several pillows in the process. He folded his arms over his chest, nodding in satisfaction. "Right! That should do it. You go sit there while I get your food."

I stared, completely dumbfounded. "I-I can..." Oh. He was already gone. I blinked, sniffling a little.

I have no idea what just happened.

Sliding off the armrest, mind a bit numb and dazed as to the sudden turn of events, I slowly dragged myself to the sleeping bag- which was placed about three feet away from the couch. I sat down, glancing up at the sleeping Blue. I really hoped he felt better soon.

He has to.

I stared blankly down at the cream soup when Brock brought it to me, the boy monitoring Blue's condition and apologizing to Bill for any and all trouble we might have caused for him. The adult took it rather casually, though mentioned he didn't expect the kids he let in to be so… stressed. I tightened my grip on the bowl and ate in silence, wondering if I really did have a fever and how on earth I should go about getting Aerodactyl back for Blue.

If… If we can get it back, Blue will have less to worry about. He might heal faster.

And the Aerodactyl won't be abused anymore, either.

I jolted when forced out of my thoughts, feeling a pair of hands undoing my messy braids. Nearly recoiling, I only relaxed when I saw the ex-gym leader smile at me. "Sorry. It's been bothering me for a while. It's fine if I brush it and redo the braids, right?"

I let out a shaky breath, shoulders slowly relaxing. "Y… Yeah. It's… you, so…"

Brock smiled a little at that, though there was still something sad about his expression. Bill wandered into the room at some point and headed over to a desk, pulling out some treats to feed the Nidorino that had been hiding in a corner. "There we go. Good boy. Now, why don't we go about fixin' us that there machine, hm?"

Closing my eyes, I tried not to flinch when the brush hit some tangles. My hair really was annoyingly long. Maybe once this is all over I can cut it off.I leaned forward, yawning a little as I started to doze off. The rush of adrenaline was now gone, leaving me in dire need for sleep. This feels nice. It was so different from what I was used to and, honestly, I felt like I didn't deserve it.

Everyone in this outside world was just way too nice to me.

It almost… hurts.

By the time Brock was done with my braids I had finished eating the stew, and I was about to get up to put the bowl in the kitchen when the boy snatched it from me. "H-Hey-"

"Nope. Get some rest. You need it." He grinned at me. "Once Blue is better we're heading out and thinking up a name for you. Got it?"

I stared at him with big eyes. He took my silence as an answer and wandered away, leaving me to sit there alone. Seriously- what on earth went on in that brain of his? I can't figure him out. I frowned and bit my bottom lip, right hand fiddling with the dawn stone hiding in my pocket. Always reading through me, always so understanding, always so stupidly kind…

I pulled the dawn stone out and curled it in my palm, bringing my knees up to my chest as I wrapped my arms around my legs. I glanced at Blue again. I want to help. I want to make him feel better. Unfortunately, this wasn't a nursery and he wasn't a small child; he was a fifteen-year-old boy with a horrid fever and terrible injuries. I don't know how to care for someone like that.

If it was myself I would find a way through it, no matter how much pain I wound up being put through, but… I don't want him to hurt. I don't want anyone to hurt. I just want them to feel better.

So how do I do that?

I don't know.

After about ten minutes Brock came out of the kitchen and set his sleeping bag down next to mine, climbing into it and nuzzling into the pillows. "This was a long day." He yawned. "I'm worn out." I didn't respond. He raised an eyebrow and looked at me, seeing that I was still sitting. "You should lay down. You'll catch a fever too at this this rate."

"...Do you really think he'll get better?"

"Huh?" He sat up.

"Blue." I added, voice soft. "Do you… really think he'll get better?"

Brock frowned. He then reached out, surprising me when he set a hand over mine- stopping me from fiddling anymore with the dawn stone. I hadn't even realized I was messing with it, having been tracing over all the lines and fissures from the broken parts of it. I stared at his hand, then slowly turned to look up at him. "I know he will. And… I'm sure the person who gave you this stone- the one you're praying to right now- believes, too. He's wishing you the best, praying for your safety. Your happiness. And you know what'll make you happy? Blue getting better. So I know," He told me, voice and expression full of such conviction that it was hard not to take him seriously, "without a doubt that Blue will wake up. So come on."

The hand that was on mine pulled away, instead reaching up to brush away a stray tear. He smiled at me.

"Don't cry. You should try smiling instead. After all, him getting better is something to be happy about, right?"

Yeah… Yeah, it is. He's right.

After a moment of trying to recollect myself and stop these aggravating emotions, I nodded at his words. I clutched my dawn stone tight, wondering if that person truly was thinking about me. Did he remember that tiny little girl he had found so long ago? The one that was so scared and confused about her surroundings? Did he ever wonder what happened to her?

I hoped so. I really hoped Brock was right.

Bill watched us out of the corner of his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh and picking up some stray pieces of metal, the smallest of smiles playing on his lips. Us kids were really something. He had no idea what our relationship was with Team Rocket, but he knew it wasn't good. He also knew that it must be quite the story.

But he said nothing, merely pretending to focus on his task at hand as we all went to sleep. He stared at us, watching as Brock curled an arm around my small form, the dawn stone held protectively between my hands, and Bill reached into his pocket- staring at the tickets he had to a ship cruise. Whatever was going on with us- we clearly needed a break, and Bill hated big crowds and politics.

The S.S Anne pulls into port at Vermillion City, so it would be a perfect escape from all the nonsense we were being put through, right?

"I'll give it to them in the mornin'," He murmured, petting his Nidorino when it drew close, "that way the kiddos can all get their rest. You an' me, though? We gotta finish cleanin' up this mess."

"Nidooo!"

Kinda shortish, but I think it'll flow better this way. Our girl is absolutely TERRIFIED of being rejected and abandoned, it seems, and some memories are trying to come to the surface. ALMOST THERE~! ALMOST THERE TO NAME REVEAL! What are your guys' guesses on how it happens? Will it be something dramatic? Something simple? Will it be a weird name or a cute name? A normal name? Chapter has a bit of drama, but we also got some cooking lessons in so~ and yes, I did watch like several cooking videos on how to make this darn stew so I could write it. T_T Oh, the things we do for fanfiction.

Anyway, Brock is out here really trying to help out with our girl's fears. Best boy. Best Brock. Best Boy Brock. Also if you don't know the song she was trying to sing, it was Brothers from Full Metal Alchemist/Brotherhood. Most specifically the version sung by Vic Mignogna himself- who voices the main protag in the dub.

(Sorry Steven. You're always number 1 in my heart though)

Read and Review! :3