It had taken only one night for Paul to realize that he very much needed both Maylene and Cynthia. He'd discovered it the first night that Reggie had been home when his brother had decided to celebrate his first meal home by bringing it back up promptly afterwards. His younger sibling had just sat there, staring dumbly at his distressed brother. The time that it took him to even register what was happening, let alone know what to do about it, the gym leader and champion had been by his sibling's side, helping and comforting him.
In the space of a few seconds, Paul had relinquished his place and allowed the two newcomers to tend to his brother, realizing that they were better suited than he ever could be. He wanted to be. He wished that he could have banished both Maylene and even Cynthia away and help his brother by himself. It would have been just the two of them. As it was though, within the first couple of hours, he'd understood just why it was that Looker had insisted so stubbornly that someone stay with him. He just wanted Reggie to be better. He wanted his strong and caring brother back on his feet and as he had been before their ill-fated expedition. He'd hoped that getting him out of the hospital would change all that. He'd listened to the doctors and nurses, paying them lip service but not truly allowing their words to register. He dismissed their warnings as being pointless fretting. A few good meals and the comfort of home would be all that Reggie needed.
It wasn't. His brother was still weak.
He couldn't stay awake for more than about three hours at any one time. Even the most simple and mundane of actions lead to him needing to sit down and recover. He'd been given a set of crutches and hobbled around on those. Paul had only seen his brother try to move around once or twice without them. His damaged leg was still stiff and painfully apparently, something to do with the damage the poison had done to the tissue and muscle. Maylene had once mentioned that the wound still wasn't a pleasant sight. The young man didn't have the stomach to check for himself.
Reggie smiled more now though. Just a little bit every day. It was enough to raise some of their spirits. To Paul though, so much still rung hollow. He didn't see the small victories that seemed so important to the others, only the bigger picture of what had been lost.
With a sigh, Paul slipped out of his sleeping bag and made his way down the corridor. He could already hear many voices coming from the living room. There was some shouting. It wasn't angry, more the sort which one would expect to find coming from a bar as people struggled to be heard over one another. The trainer held back a sigh, weary least he suddenly find himself closer to someone than he actually thought he would. It wouldn't be the first time over the course of the past week or so that he found himself startled to discover that someone was a lot closer than he thought they were.
He emerged into the open-kitchen living area of Reggie's house. Palmer was by the stove, busy cooking something up. Maylene and Reggie were sitting by a counter whilst Samuel struggled to squeeze past carrying a tray with a plate and some food. He brought it over towards Brandon, settled down into a nearby armchair. The assistant made it half way there before catching his feet in a discarded sleeping blankets and tumbling forwards. He did his best to balance the food and avoid tipping it over the Pyramid King. Brandon shifted, trying to lever himself up with only his left arm. The man was slow though, struggling to get to his feet. Cynthia stepped over quickly, managing to both catch the tray and the young man holding it before any damage was done, much to the Frontier Brain's relief.
"Thanks..." Samuel managed, regaining his balance.
"It's not your fault… I don't think Reggie thought he'd have so many guests."
"You can say that again..."
Reggie's house had always seemed to be a decent size to Paul. At least when it was just the two of them. With Brandon things had seemed a little bit smaller but with now up to seven people – occasionally eight if a nurse decided to visit – it was downright crowded. They tried not to get under one another's feet but given how often they found themselves crammed into the same room, the task was nearly impossible. What had at one point been amusing, was slowly but surely drifting into the realm of irritating. If nothing else, it highlighted how difficult it would be for them to make do in the coming months.
Paul was shaken out of his thoughts by Palmer offering him a plate of food. He mouthed a "thank you", secretly grateful that it wasn't Cynthia who had decided to do the cooking this morning. He sat down at the counter next to Reggie. His big brother offered him a somewhat tired smile. The younger of the siblings said nothing, contenting himself with helping himself to some more breakfast.
"There is an alternative…" Brandon spoke up from his seat.
"To what?" Reggie asked.
"Well, your mother's old farm was a good deal roomier."
There was a silence from the entire room, leaving only the bubbling of the kettle as it readied yet more boiling water for some cups of coffee. Paul turned to look over his shoulder, glancing back towards his parent. Brandon just looked back simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He seemed oblivious to the stares that he was getting from those around him. Paul glanced towards Reggie, assuming that he must have either misheard or misunderstood his father. He saw the confusion on his brother's face and was able to quickly access that no, he hadn't imagined it, Brandon had just suggested going back to their old house:
"I thought you didn't want to go back there?" Reggie managed eventually.
"A man's got to face his past eventually." Brandon shrugged his shoulders. "We certainly can't keep on tripping over one another."
"Is it even going to be liveable?" Palmer asked.
Another shrug of the man's shoulders. Paul took that to mean that Brandon hadn't even set foot in or anywhere near the small farm to know one way or another what state it was in. Had anyone? His youngest son certainly hadn't. In truth, he doubted that he would have been able to find it if he'd gone looking for the building.
He thought about it, trying to recall as much as he could about the house. The porch looking out over the fields was about the only thing which had any clarity in his mind. He could see himself out there, watching his parents as they sat there in the evening sun, chatting happily as they had once done so often. There were perhaps a few more flickers of his bedroom. For the most part though, it was events here and there more than actual décor that came back to him. If Brandon claimed that the old house was bigger than Reggie's current one, well his youngest son would just take him at his word.
"Why don't Palmer and I go back there to check it out?" Cynthia suggested. "It might only need a bit of work."
Brandon only nodded once in response. The man still seemed a little bit uneasy about the whole thing, which Paul could only attribute to the many memories of that place that he imagined that his father and likely his eldest brother must have still had. Perhaps this would all fail and fall apart later on down the line. For the moment though, as neither of them objected to Cynthia's suggestion. They finished their breakfast. Samuel and Maylene offered to handle the washing up whilst the Champion and Tower Tycoon got ready. Paul watched them silently, his mind elsewhere, reaching back for a past which was increasingly slipping away from him.
"Can I come along?"
His request was met with some surprise but no refusals.
In truth, whilst he was curious about his old house, Paul needed out. He needed to escape this place, if only for a few hours. Here, he found himself crowded. Something that he didn't appreciate even on the best of days. Here though, it was made worse by his father and brother. They were more or less cooped up indoors, Reggie less and less every day but he was still ever present around the house. It was a constant reminder of what had happened, what they had lost. The youngest of the brothers hated it. He loathed the fact that he'd been able to walk away whilst the rest of his family had been crippled. He'd been waiting for a chance to escape and now one had so kindly presented itself.
They took a few bags of cleaning products, dusters and a vacuum cleaner with them. Paul wasn't too sure what sort of state a house that had been abandoned for ten years but the handful of supplies they had with them seemed to be frankly a bit optimistic. He opted not to question it, content just to escape for a little while. The teen hopped into the back seat, allowing Cynthia and Palmer into the front. He looked out of the window as they drove off, not bothering to wave to Reggie as he watched them leave.
The journey back was a numb one. Paul did what he could to forget about everything that had happened over the course of the past few weeks, to lose himself in the countryside as it passed them on by. He trusted the champion to be able to drive them to where they needed to go. Right now, if it had been possible for him to do so without losing consciousness, he would likely have simply contented himself with switching off. He was half successful, able to avoid thinking excessively or dwelling on his current situation but not entirely able to push it from his mind either.
"Do you remember your old house Paul?" Cynthia woke him from his silent reverie.
"Not really."
"Well, maybe this will help jog your memory."
"Maybe..." Paul muttered, not even convinced that he wanted any of it coming back to him. "How far away are we anyhow?"
"Oh, we're pretty much there." Palmer informed him.
For the first time, Paul took some actual note of the countryside surrounding them. They were on a small dirt path. It ran through a wooded area, the trees were thick but somehow seemed peaceful rather than oppressive. He could see a few pokemon scurrying around, a flock of starlies made its way through the trees. They eyed the car carefully, clearly suspicious to find their home disturbed after so long. Everything was overgrown but it wasn't unrecognizable. As they bumped along the road, the young man felt that he knew just where they would find themselves once they made it past a small turn.
It had been a clearing when he was a boy. A sudden break in the trees where an old farm, a paddock and a couple of small fields could be found. Most of that was gone now, lost to the wilderness. He could hear branches snapping and struggled to make out many of the delimitations of their lands and garden that he could recall as a boy. It was now shrubs, weeds and thorns. The house was still there. A little worn but then it had never looked brand new. Despite the gradually encroaching wilderness, it remained surprisingly solid. They pulled up right in front of the porch where so many of his few memories took place.
Paul got out of the car somewhat mindlessly, lost in what few memories he had of this place. It had always been on warm evenings… Rather than sit around inside, his parents would move outside onto the porch. They sat there, taking in the warmth and relaxing whilst their two boys played. The memories were terribly vague, faint and distorted by time but they were still happy.
Palmer walked up there purposefully. He rummaged around for a few instants, searching under some flowerpots before pulling out an old key. He smiled triumphantly before bringing it over to the door. With a little effort, he managed to turn the lock. It took a bit of a shove but finally, they emerged into the house. The main room was dusty, a heavy aroma of dirt and stale air hung around them inescapable. It wasn't pleasant. Cynthia made quick work of opening the windows letting out ten years worth of "shut in". For his part, Paul found himself drifting inside like something of a zombie.
Nothing had changed. That struck Paul instantly. This was a moment, his past he had assumed lost and forgotten, frozen in time.
"Crashed on this couch a few times..." Palmer noted, giving Cynthia a knowing smile.
Paul could remember it now. Bits and pieces mixed together to form a much clearer and more distinct image within his mind. He could very much see himself sitting here with Reggie, with Brandon, with his mother… He almost expected the woman to come in from the kitchen, that gentle smile on her lips as she asked her two boys to either take their game down a couple of notches or, preferably, take it outside. Driven by hope rather than actual belief, Paul staggered forwards towards the door. He placed his hand on the chipped paint and worn timbers, pushing it open. He found nothing. Just the kitchen, unchanged, a pile of plates washed but still waiting to be put away, just sitting there on the draining board.
"Paul..." Cynthia's voice drew his attention. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I just forgot that she'd painted everything."
It wasn't quite everything but all of the wood and the doors, all of the cabinets and furniture had been treated to special care from his mother. Most of it was flowers or branches. It added a hint of colour to the building. As he thought back to his childhood, he could just about picture the woman there, with a handful of pots of paint on the floor and a brush in hand. She wore old clothes, splattered in old stains from her previous artworks.
There was a lump in Paul's throat now. He shook his head, trying to bring himself out of the past. Suddenly, coming here like this no longer seemed like such a good idea. He allowed himself to travel upstairs, seeking some form of escape. Neither Palmer nor Cynthia gave chase much to his relief. He knew where everything was. Some part of him wanted to go and knock on the door furthest to the right and go and fetch his big brother for some comfort. The young trainer had to repeat to himself that Reggie wasn't there now. Instead, he opened his own door and entered into a room he hadn't thought about in years.
It was almost embarrassing to see his old toys there on the floor where had last left them. He could just about remember his father telling him to pack his clothes and anything else that he might have wanted. He'd just sat there in the corner until eventually Brandon had lost his patience and come to pick him up, taking him to the car which would spirit them away from this place for years to come. The teen looked down. There, sitting almost in the centre of the room was an old doll. He could remember his mother sowing it for him. It was a fairly crude thing but it had kept him company as a child. He bent over, picking it up. Somehow, it hadn't been affected by the passage of time, scruffy and a bit dirty but that was to be expected of a young boy's companion.
He placed it back down atop his bed, before drifting back outside.
He held off from entering his parent's room. Instead, he found himself faced with a door that he struggled to recall what he would find behind it. Dumbly, he pushed the door mindlessly. It opened with a slight squeak. It was a bright room, with a beautiful view over the hill and down towards Veilstone in the distance. He remembered it almost instantly. The walls were covered with yet more paintings of pokemon, landscapes, flowers and people. There was one still settle on an easel, a canvas only half finished depicting a ponyta. She'd been painting it just before they'd left to go and check out the ruins his father had been excavating…
Paul shook his head, looking almost anywhere but his mother's unfinished work. Instead, he found himself draw to a nearby drawer. There were a good dozen or so photos there in frames, some very old, a few slightly less so, all were yellowed by the sun. On a few, he found only strangers. Some though had a few more familiar. There were plenty of her two sons of course. One of Brandon by himself. The man wore a small but sincere and loving smile as he looked back at the person – presumably his wife – behind the camera. What had his father been like back then? Had he been the same unwavering and unstoppable force which he had seemed to be up until not all that long ago, until one of his sons had brought him to his knees in every way possible? Or had the great king stumbled and faltered as a young man as well?
Then, he froze as his eyes encountered yet another image from years ago.
There were four people on the picture, all of whom he recognized quite easily, even though they were a good deal younger. He guessed that all save for one they must have been in their late teens. Naturally, it was to the couple on the right that his eyes fell first. His mother could be found on the far left, she was smiling, very tentatively holding the hand of the man who would go on to become her husband. She must have been younger than Reggie. His father must have had a few years on his companions. He looked less like a teen slowly transitioning into young adulthood and more like someone who'd been there for a while already. How old had both his parents been when they had first met again? Another day, he might have focused on the couple a bit more were it not for the other two in the photograph. Both were blonde, they were close to Brandon pulling the man in closer than Paul would have thought he would have been comfortable with. Yet they were all there, genuinely smiling.
With a trembling hand, he picked up the picture. The Pyramid King's son turned around on his heels and took it with him. He stormed downstairs, ignoring Palmer – a man whom he had met only recently and instead found Cynthia, the woman was busy struggling with one of the back doors which seemed to be stuck. She turned round to see him.
"How did you know my parents?!"
He asked her the question, thrusting the photograph into her face as if presenting her with the murder weapon he'd just accused her of using. The champion blinked a few times, allowing her eyes to adjust. After a few seconds however, she pulled herself together enough to reach forwards and take the photograph from him. Palmer drew in closer, evidently somewhat confused waiting to see the cause of the disturbance. The woman contemplated the image silently, a small smile crept onto her lips.
"My… This is going back a few years."
"Answer my question!" Paul snapped.
"Of course..." The woman glanced past the boy and over towards the Tower Tycoon. "Palmer, I'm going to take Paul to get some ice cream!"
"You're what?!"
"Sounds like a good idea. I'll stay here and see if I can get the water going."
Paul was too flabbergasted to speak and Cynthia didn't quite provide him with enough time to react. Instead, she made her way towards the door, obviously expecting him to follow her. She managed to stun him once more as rather than heading towards the car to drive them back to Veilstone, she instead made a B-line into the overgrown garden. It was only as the woman hopped over what remained of a now completely rusted wheelbarrow that he remembered that there had once been a path, they'd always called it the "shortcut" which lead down the hill and eventually to the nearby town.
The woman didn't seem bothered by the overgrown path. Paul followed. Every step, he recalled this root just a little bit more. At least how it had once been. Back in the day, the grass and weeds had been worn down by people coming and going down the hill. He remembered reaching out, holding his mother's hand as they headed into town. It was enough to distract him for a short while. It would have been easy to lose himself in the past today.
Eventually though, the image of the photograph that he'd seen and that Cynthia still had on her came back to him, reminding him of just why he'd snapped to begin with. He wondered silently what sort of game the champion was playing. Surely, she wasn't serious about ice cream… He waited in frustrated silence. Briefly, he wondered if she might have been trying to distract him or to cause him to lose focus. If she was, she would be sorely disappointed.
"Of course..." Cynthia spoke suddenly as if continuing a conversation which she had been having with herself. "I don't suppose you remember much if anything about that life."
"What life? I asked you how you knew my parents, not for a walk and some musings."
"I know… I was just curious. I remember you when you were a child but obviously you don't remember me."
"Not one bit."
Paul was pretty sure that he would have remembered Cynthia. She wasn't the sort of woman whom it would have been possible to forget. His memories from his youth were few and far between, likely because had been so young when they had left this place for the very last time, so he didn't even feel particularly guilty about it.
Cynthia raised her eyes to the sky humming thoughtfully for a few instants. Paul wondered if she was aware just how badly she was getting under his skin right now. He didn't take her for the sort of person to be careless with other's feelings. Perhaps she was merely oblivious or lost in her own memories. Paul clenched his fists, doing everything within his power to keep his temper in check in the hopes that he would eventually get the answer that he had been so desperate for. Was it so difficult to provide him with a simple answer?
"So let me guess, you were one of Brandon's girlfriends."
"Don't talk to me like that!"
Cynthia didn't raise her voice but there was a firmness behind it which instantly made him shrink away. Abruptly, he was reminded that he was addressing the region's champion, as well as the woman who had helped save him and the rest of his family and who had been so tirelessly helping and tending to them whilst they tried to recover. For once, it was some genuine shame which took hold of him.
"I'm… I'm sorry..."
"You're upset. It's understandable." Cynthia spoke shaking her head dismissively. "I was never- We are- were friends."
"Friends?" Paul repeated dismissively. "Brandon doesn't do friends."
"He did once. A long time ago."
Paul glanced at the woman out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling thoughtfully. It was the same one that she had worn back when she had first been presented with the photograph, one which was lost back in her past. He wished that he could have gone back then himself, seen just what she had seen and understood why despite everything that had happened, the champion still found it within herself to smile. Then she turned back to look towards the young man walking somewhere just behind him.
"Palmer and I met your father in the Solaceon ruins, hence Palmer's little nickname for him. We went on a little bit of an adventure."
"I don't remember any of Brandon's stories about any of that."
"Well… I guess some of it didn't really make for the best bedtime stories..."
The comment earned a frown from the man's eldest son. He got the distinct impression that he wouldn't get an awful lot more detail from Cynthia about just what their famous "adventure" had entailed. He could only assume if he hadn't heard about it previously, it was either because it was a tale which was either too boring or too scary to be told to children. Paul wondered if he might risk asking Reggie, or maybe even their father about it at a later date. It certainly sounded as if it should have been something worth hearing.
They'd climbed down much of the path and had just crossed the line into Veilstone. The streets still remained relatively quiet however.
"What was Brandon like when he was my age?"
"I only knew him when he was older but he was proud, arrogant, always looking for a fight and very brave and kind."
Paul couldn't quite decide if such a description was something that he could relate to his father as he knew him now or not. He was proud certainly. That could sometimes transition into arrogance, the young man reasoned. Always looking for a fight? Whilst the man certainly didn't shy away from them, it was the sort of attitude that he had always cautioned his sons against. Maybe, the man's youngest reasoned, he'd learnt the hard way. As for bravery, there wasn't a person on the face of the planet who would possibly have questioned that much. Battle scars and a missing arm were all that he had to show for it.
He thought back to the man he'd seen in that last photo. He wondered what would have happened if he'd met the man back then. Would they have fought as they had done so many years later? Would the man back then have sacrificed so much for such a worthless, ungrateful son? Maybe that man would have been better off had he never fallen in love with her son.
"So… How did mom come into all this? Did she travel with you?"
"A little… She mostly used to bandage up our pokemon and ourselves." Cynthia must have caught sight of his confused look. "She was a healer, you know. She could fix people and pokemon. She taught me pretty much everything that I know."
Memories came back. He saw himself with a scratch on his forearm. She'd shushed him, assured him that everything was okay and that he was being very brave. In the space of a few seconds, she'd banished his tears and with another couple of moments and some ointment, she managed to get rid of his pain as well. He missed her… He wanted her back. Paul took a deep breath, doing everything in his power to rid himself of the lump in his throat. For the first time, he took note of his surroundings. They seemed vaguely familiar. He knew that he'd been here before although given that this was Veilstone, that wasn't saying much.
It was only when they turned round a corner and found themselves face to face with an ice cream parlour that it all suddenly clicked. He found himself coming to a dead stop as he stared at the familiar neon sign. Cynthia halted also, giving him a knowing grin.
"Remember this place, do you?"
"Yeah… I used to come here with mom."
"Then you must know it does the best ice cream in Veilstone."
He remembered liking it but that was about it. He followed only because he didn't know what else to do. Of course, the region's champion's penchant for ice cream was well known. So he supposed he shouldn't have been that surprised that she would want to come here like this. It was the timing more than anything else which had left him a little bit unsettled. With everything that had happened, he wasn't even entirely sure that he was hungry, especially not for something as sickly sweet as ice cream.
They were being stared at as they entered by the handful of customers. First and foremost, it was Cynthia who was the focus of their attention. She must have been used to it by now he figured. Still, it annoyed Paul and he suddenly felt a glimmer more understanding for why his father had chosen to live the life that he had instead of using his skills to push for a position such as Elite Four or even a champion in his own right. Who would want the constant attention? When they turned their curiosity towards him, he responded only with a brief cold glare before going back to focusing on the woman he had followed in here.
"Why Mrs. Cynthia, it's been a long time!" Came the warm greeting from the man behind the counter.
"It certainly has."
"Let me guess, one ball of coconut and one cookie?"
"You know me too well." Cynthia glanced over her shoulder. "This is Diana's son, do you remember him?"
"Little Paul? Well, he's certainly grown. You look like your old man, you know."
"I guess..." There were some parallels that he didn't like being drawn, not with everything that had happened.
"So… Vanilla?"
Paul nodded once in reply to the champion's question. It was as plain as could be found and he really didn't feel like anything more than that. Whilst a few memories continued to stir within his mind as they left. Memories, he was increasingly certain that he didn't want. They reminded him of everything that had once been and that he'd lost. Deep down inside, he knew that he wanted little more than to go back to those days when on warm summer afternoons his mother and father would walk down the hill with him and his brother to buy them some ice cream.
He did what he could to prevent himself from dwelling on what had once been. Thankfully, there were still plenty of unanswered questions to enable him to do just that:
"I don't remember you- From back then, I mean."
"You were very young." Cynthia reminded him.
"I don't get it. If you and Palmer and my parents were so close, why weren't either of you there?"
"Your father doesn't handle grief very well..." The champion's voice trailed off bitterly. "When he lost your mother, it pretty near broke him. The only way he found to cope was to cut himself off from that life, as much as he could at least. That included Palmer and me."
Paul had been young at the time. Too young to understand properly but not enough not to notice. He could remember that they had had friends – although now his memory refused to recall just whom said friends were – and that suddenly they had stopped coming round or visiting. They had moved house and Brandon had only tolerated that they bring so much with them. It had all happened so quickly. It would likely have hurt a lot more had the recent loss of their mother not drowned everything else out, making it seem a good deal less important.
The man's son became quiet. He couldn't deny that the ice cream was nice. It carried with it a pleasant sweetness which managed to chase some of the worst of the ghosts away. He contented himself with following Cynthia dumbly. She didn't seem to be heading right back to the house but that suited Paul well enough. He wasn't sure that he wanted to go back there quite yet. He dragged his feet. There were other questions that he had to ask but for the time being, they wouldn't come out.
It took him a few moments before he suddenly realized just where he was. He came to a sudden stop, digging his heels in. He turned his head slightly towards a wooded area near the end of town. He remembered it now. He could recall the last time that he'd been there, crying. He'd held his father's hand, not because he wanted to but because he'd needed to hold onto someone. He turned towards Cynthia, there was no smile to be found there. Instead, somehow, without her opening her mouth and saying the slightest word, he got the feeling that the champion knew what he was thinking, that she understood and more importantly that she would be there for him.
Without speaking another word. She moved slowly driven by some sort of an instinct that he didn't know that he possessed. Everything that he'd just been told, that he'd been thinking and worrying about faded away. There was very little going through his mind as he entered through the old gate and glanced over the countless tombstones. It had been a terribly long time since he'd last been here, and yet he still knew where to go. His pace slowed only slightly, forced into some sort of reverence as respect as he passed through the cemetery. They had this place to themselves, with the exception of an elderly man who sat far away in the shade of an old tree. It took a few minutes for him to find what he had been looking for.
It was a single tombstone, carved from granite. There were only a few words to be read: Diana, beloved mother and wife, loved forever.
Paul could only stare at the stone. It seemed hard for him to conceive that deep beneath the earth was his mother. He could remember standing here as they'd last said goodbye. He hadn't been able to bring himself to return here since then. He didn't think that his father had come here either. If he had, he never mentioned it. Reggie would make the journey, but only when he was able to. So that raised a question: who had placed the flowers there? They were a little bit worn, but still too fresh to have been placed there by any of his family members. Right now, there was but single likely culprit that he could think of:
"Did you bring these?"
"Yes. I try to come here when I can, which is probably not enough."
"Why?" Seeing her confusion, he explained himself a little further. "Why come here?"
"She was my friend..."
The woman took a few steps closer, looking down at the tombstone. Try as he might, Paul couldn't remember if she had been there at the funeral. He could recall quite a crowd but most of their faces were lost to him. What he did know was that people, many people had loved his mother. Why wouldn't they? She had been kind, wonderful and always there for others who needed her.
The pain in his throat returned as he was taken back to the night that he'd lost her. He felt her arms around him once more, pushing him to safety and out of the path of the collapsing debris. Her cry resonated through his ears even now, causing him to wince, looking away in an attempt to rid the image from his mind. She shouldn't have done it. It was stupid. What had he gone and done with that life that she'd saved? He'd spent the entirety of those years angry, hateful, being the exact opposite of the woman who had sacrificed her life for him. His father was right, she would have been ashamed of him...
"She didn't have to save me."
"She loved you, Paul." Cynthia spoke barely above a whisper. "It's all that she could do."
"I'm not worth it! I was never worth any of it!"
His mother was dead. His brother still recovering from a poison that had almost claimed his life and his father nursed a missing limb and scars which would never leave him. All because of him. Misfortune and pain seemed to follow him around, sometimes by accident and other times out of pure and simple carelessness. There was a little voice in the back of his mind which whispered to him that if he hadn't been there, they would all still be alive and fine. Everyone he had ever met would be better off without him. Was there anyone out there, human or pokemon who could actually claim that their life was – perhaps not even better for having met him – but at least not any worse?
He broke. All of his subconscious effort to hold back the pain, both since the incident on Mount Coronet and from far before then abruptly crumbled. His legs buckled beneath him, sending him crashing into the ground as tears tore their way down his cheeks. He fought silently against himself for a few moments, before realizing it was all for nothing. All he could do was try to muffle the sobs. He raised his hand, placing it over his face as if somehow that would suffice to conceal his tears from the rest of the world.
Paul wanted them back. He wished that he would wake up from this living nightmare with his mother by his side and his father and brother, strong and proud as they had always been. He knew it wouldn't happen, that this was his reality but Arceus he would trade pretty much anything to change it. He forgot himself, crying loudly. It took a few moments for him to register the hand on his shoulder. It was gentle but enough for him to know that he wasn't alone. He forgot about himself for a heartbeat and latched onto the only source of comfort to be found. Cynthia didn't object, waiting patiently for it to pass.
Every time he thought that he had it under control, something else would come back to him and the floodgates would reopen.
"P-Promise you won't tell them." He managed as best as I could.
"I won't." Cynthia assured him softly.
It took him a few moments to regain some semblance of self-control. He pulled away from Cynthia as quickly as he could, desperate to avoid himself any further embarrassment and thoroughly ashamed by his show of weakness. Nobody in their family cried, at least not since they had been children. They kept things such as pain and grief to themselves. The idea of breaking down in front of a stranger, especially the Sinnoh champion, filled him with shame. He sat down, running a hand through his hair and frantically rubbing his eyes in an attempt to erase any sign of his tears. As if it would somehow serve to undo what had happened.
He felt Cynthia's hand on his shoulder, comforting, gentle and sincere as it always was. She offered him a very small smile.
"I know that you've been through a lot, but you need to know that you're not alone and that it's okay to cry sometimes."
"I don't know what it was like in your family..." Paul conceded, struggling to keep his voice level. "But in Brandon's house, we didn't do crying."
It had never been expressly forbidden but certainly the man hadn't encouraged it and had frequently told his sons to get a grip if he thought they were getting a little too emotional. That coupled with the man's harsh demeanour hadn't encouraged a great deal of warm exchanges throughout the years. If they were unhappy, they kept it to themselves as much as possible. Even Reggie would seek isolation rather than risk breaking down in front of his family. It had seen them through the years well enough, although Paul was aware that it wasn't quite commonplace where others were concerned.
He took a few haggard breaths, pulling his legs up close to him. His eyes fell back upon the tombstone. He listened, praying under his breath that somehow, by some miracle, his mother might speak to him now, offer him some of the advice that he so desperately felt that he needed. For the life of him, on his knees before her grave with a relative stranger by his side, he didn't know where to go from here.
"Can we stay here for a little while?" Paul requested in little more than a whisper.
Cynthia nodded but said nothing.
His thoughts were a mess, scattered and disordered. He struggled to even tell past from present, reality from some of the nightmares that had been haunting him for so long. A few of the memories which stirred within him were pleasant, scenes of warmth and tenderness from long ago. Others less fond, things that he had tried to push to the back of his mind and forget about. They had been bubbling and festering away for so long. He barely knew how to address them. Still he tried as best as he could, did what he could to objectionably question a few things, to think about what had happened and what might yet tomorrow. It was his mother he thought of. How much he loved her and missed her, how he wished she was still here. There had been such joy back then… There was so much that had happened to change that. Some of it was his fault, some of it Brandon, even Reggie wasn't entirely blameless.
It felt as if quite a bit of time had passed by the time he became slightly more aware of his surroundings again. Paul pressed a hand against his face. Wiping away a few lingering tears from the corners of his eyes. It was with a few deep but shaky breaths that he managed to soothe his uneasy nerves. Things were just a little bit clearer in his mind.
"I'm going to have to talk with him, aren't I?"
"I think that one way or another, you two have to bring this thing – whatever it is – to an end."
Bring it to an end… The prospect was appealing. How many years had he been at war with his father now? It had cost both of them so much. He knew that Cynthia was right. He wasn't too sure just what or how he would go about it but talking seemed like the place to start. He knew that he would need Reggie but still, the prospect of actually sitting down with the Pyramid King and discussing things sent a shiver of dread down his spine.
"You're going to be hanging around for a while, aren't you?"
"Well, I'll have to get back to my champion duties eventually." Cynthia spoke, her voice a little bit lighter. "But I'll be there if you need it."
He wouldn't admit that he needed it. He wasn't too sure if he was afraid of his father but certainly the man was intimidating in his own way. He was harsh and cold and knew exactly what to say to reopen wounds if he wanted to and Paul knew that he had done so many to inflict some on his parent as well. With Cynthia there, well, he couldn't quite put his finger on it but he felt just a little bit more confident about facing those demons.
They started to head back. The heat was beginning to rise. He guessed that they must have been edging closer to midday. One day, he reasoned that he would have to thank the champion for being here the way that she was. He might not entirely understand it, but he wasn't going to lie to himself and say that having her and some of the others who had come to assist them hadn't been at least somewhat welcome. Even now, climbing back up the hill as so many memories from times long ago stirred within the confines of his mind. It was bittersweet to think back to those days, all the more so for knowing he could never go back to them.
As soon as they reached the house however, both of them froze. Palmer was outside, pokeball in hand, fixing a few nearby bushes. He was utterly motionless, waiting, watching and listening but paying the two new arrivals absolutely no attention. Quietly, moving slowly, Cynthia approached, reaching into her pocket to pull out a pokeball of her own. Paul followed carefully, taking Torterra into his hand, just in case. They approached the man, standing by his side. Still, he didn't take his eyes off of the overgrown bushes.
"There's been something circling this house since we got here." He declared, for the first time since Paul had met him, he sounded serious, almost grim.
"Could just be a wild pokemon..." Cynthia replied.
"If it is, then it's stalking us."
What sort of idiot would risk attacking Sinnoh's Champion and the Tower Tycoon? There was a time when Paul would have scoffed at the prospect, declared that if anything or anyone was that foolish they should bring it on. His encounter with Team Galactic had made him somewhat wearier however. There were maniacs out there, he reasoned, and sadly they weren't all weak and harmless. It could have been a trap or an ambush.
Paul could hear the rustling coming from the bushes. It certainly wasn't a Stary or a rattata. It sounded as if there was a fair amount more weight behind it. A wild pokemon did, indeed, seem like the most likely culprit. Ordinarily, he would have called out Torterra and hoped that his partner's size was enough to put off any potential troublemakers. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. Approaching slowly. Did that indicate peaceful intent or that it was about to pounce? The trainer wouldn't like to say. He cast nervous glances towards both Palmer and Cynthia, reluctant to be the first one to lose his cool and snap.
Then, from the bush, emerged a quadrupedal figure. In a flash, all of the tension vanished from within Paul, to the extent that it felt as if someone had severed the threads that kept him standing. He felt as if he was staring at a ghost, albeit one covered with flame.
"Ponyta..."
The pokemon was old. Its head hung lowly. The fires from its mane and tail were duller than they had been, as were its eyes. He recognized the pokemon easily though and in an instant, any fear that he might have had vanished. He saw himself sitting on the wooden fence, his mother next to him, ensuring that he couldn't possibly slip and fall. She told him it was okay, he could reach out and pet the creature, it wasn't going to hurt him. His mother had loved the fire pokemon. It was her partner, her oldest companion and most trusted friend. Tired and aged though it might have been, there could be little doubt in Paul's mind as he looked towards the creature, that it knew full well who these three were. There was just a sparkle of recognition behind its eyes.
Tentatively, Paul stepped forwards. He reached out, extending his hand just as his mother had taught him. He waited for the fire type to come to him. It considered him silently for a few moments, before slowly and stiffly making its way forwards. Without any concern, it extended its neck and allowed him to pat it. For a few seconds, he was that boy again, gleefully petting his mother's Ponyta. For a few seconds, emotion threatened to overthrow his self-control.
"I-I thought-" No, he definitely had. "Dad released him. I remember him shouting at him and breaking the pokeball..."
"Oh Brandon..." Cynthia's tone was soft, almost pained.
Ponyta was in a rather bad way. It wasn't in any danger but clearly this life had cost him a fair deal. A trip to a Pokemon Centre certainly wouldn't have gone amiss. Probably though, at least Paul hoped, a few good meals and some of the much needed affection it had been denied these past few years would do him some good. The trainer looked towards the woman and man who had brought him back here.
"We can't leave him here!"
"We won't..." The Champion promised him. "Come on. Lets see if we can find him a drink."
It was late evening by the time that the car returned with all three of its occupants. It didn't take long for Reggie, Maylene and Samuel to come out to greet them. They did so with enough enthusiasm as to make Paul think that they must have been worrying a little given how long the small group had been gone. As he got out of the car, the young trainer glanced towards the windows. He knew that Brandon would be watching from afar. It took more effort than it probably should have for the Pyramid King to move around. He might settle down outside come evening for a few hours to take in the rays but that would be him until bedtime.
Reggie made his way over, a warm smile on his face as he approached his younger brother. Paul wished that he could have returned it in its sincerity.
"How was it?"
"Dusty..." Paul grumbled in response.
"Did you remember much?"
"It hasn't changed..."
"You took a while." The elder brother pried once more.
"Yeah. I had to head to a pokemon centre." He took a deep breath. "We met an old friend."
Without waiting to be questioned any further, he pulled a pokeball out from his pocket calling out Ponyta. It had been the only way that they'd been able to think of to transport the aged pokemon without actually asking the creature to make the journey itself. The creature looked around, a little bit confused as it took in its new surroundings. Quickly though, its attention fell upon the eldest sibling. Reggie turned just a little bit paler, the smile vanished from his face. He stood in front of the pokemon, unable to process just what he was seeing. It was probably a strain he could have done without, or so the doctors would have said. There were a few tears to be found behind his orbs but he was able to hold them back.
He stroked the creature's head, carefully avoiding the fire from his mane. Maylene cast an uncertain glance between the two of them. No doubt she must have been able to sense that this wasn't just any fire-type pokemon but rather meant something to both brothers. She didn't pry however, no doubt deciding that she could ask at a later date.
There was some movement coming from indoors. Slowly, Brandon made his way outside. The haggard gaze of the Pyramid King came to rest upon Ponyta. The fire-type saw the man and there could be no doubt in Paul's mind that it most definitely recognized him, despite the years which had passed since their last harsh meeting. Both tensed up and for a moment, it felt as if both could or indeed was about try and finish what they had started years ago. There was no emotion behind the Frontier Brain's gaze, neither good nor bad. The man lingered just for a few moments before, without saying anything, turning his back and making his way back inside.
The youngest of the brothers let out a sigh, feeling all of the tension in his muscles relax. Cynthia came to stand next to him.
"Not tonight." She advised him. "But soon, you both need to bring this to an end."
With a small nod, Paul agreed silently knowing that when the time came, it would make or break whatever they had left with their father...