In fact, Flannery should have been much friendlier: encouraging Serena, telling her that Charizard cared about her. As for Serena, she blamed the Pokémon's behavior more on evolution than on the fact that she wasn't "worthy" of it. On the other hand, the idea that Ash was avoiding her was there from the beginning.
Flannery got tougher on Serena after I wrote the sentence in one of the following chapters (on the first draft): "Charizard sometimes stop obeying their trainers if they don't think they're up to snuff." I thought this was an odd thing for someone to say to encourage someone, and then decided to go back on that sentence.
There was also another reason for making Flannery unlikable, not necessarily the best one, but hey, it was that I'd done the Mary Sue test, where one of the tricks was: your main character becomes friends with everyone ^^'.
I also have to say that in the first draft, I didn't feel like I was making the most of the fact that Serena was a coordinator. I'd make a brief reference in one chapter that a Charizard wasn't quite right for a contest, and then that was it. So when I went back to my fic, I wanted to flesh out the idea over a longer period of time: especially Flannery's, a fire-type gym leader, point of view on the matter.
Marguerites scatter in the wind
I... it was an infamous treacle, you had to fight it, otherwise... again...
I... I'm... They were scattered, crystallised on the surface of that thick, greasy mud. They had to be found, picked up, in no particular order, but they had to be reunited. Again... they escaped... again... they disappeared.
I was... Was there ever anything beyond this swamp? Something worth crawling through this mire for. No, there was definitely no reason for all this, so I might as well just let these black waters carry me along and not worry any more. But the golden threads continued to shine on the surface, and the blue-eyed girl couldn't help but look at them. They commanded. She would do it, she would continue to hang around in the foul water, for no reason, without looking for a reason. They ordered, from the beginning, they ordered. I obeyed.
How many times had she drowned chasing those golden threads. And they continued to float, breaking away from the mud, refusing to be caught by her, though they never stopped calling to her. And the roaring waves, usually so calm. The viscous surface trembled, recoiled, tried to escape. The gold came closer, swirling around her. She could touch it.
The black water split. From its depths came something she had forgotten. The monster with the sharp teeth and red eyes lunged at her and bit... Bit me! It was me! It had always been me! My shoulder burned, my lungs screamed, my stomach twisted. Now I missed the calm of those black waters. I wished they would come back, that they would dissolve this unbearable body. Now leave me... let her... let this girl rest... let her give up!
Give up? I... Charmeleon... I had to do everything to make him... He wanted to win, I had to be able to make him win, and to do that... He could count on me! I would do anything! I'd do anything...
Small golden dots burst before my eyes. The crumbs of a dream wandered across my closed eyelids. The memories flooded back and I wondered how I could have forgotten them for even a moment. I had to hold on, I couldn't let go until Charmeleon took him and so... so I wouldn't disappoint him.
My eyes were wide open now, but it wasn't the sky I could see, or even the blue scales of the shark pokemon. A ceiling, a simple ceiling of planks glued together. Had it already covered the top of Mount Chimney when I closed my eyes? And had the Sharpedo scales around my hand always been so warm? A gust of conscience rose, acidifying my mind and reminding me that... There shouldn't be a ceiling, the scales should be cold and... My hands were empty, my arms held nothing. I'd lost consciousness, I couldn't hold on, and... my pokemons? Where were my pokemons?
Desperately, my fingers twitched, little joints snapped, muscles tensed and relaxed as if they'd forgotten how to work together. And then my arm moved, breaking free of the rough scales, fighting the gravity that tried to crush it to the ground, and gripping the edge of the blanket that held me captive. My fingers remained clenched against the object, surprised by the rough surface and the warmth. But there was no time to lose and I pushed the blanket back, ready to get up, to walk, to find them again and... It was back on top of me. That wasn't possible, it couldn't be moving on its own! Unless it was inhabited by a ghost, a ghost that never let go of its victims once captured.
A growl close to my ear and the impression that the living blanket was moving against me, tightening to prevent me from moving. I stayed like that for a while, not daring to touch the strange object, wondering what kind of monster I was dealing with. I held my breath, felt my neck snap as I turned my head, and then... Orange. The orange head of a reptile, close enough to feel its warm breath. It was asleep, its wing resting on me and its side rising gently. A charizard? What on earth was a charizard doing here?
"Oh, you're awake at last."
Unidentified voice. An enemy? Where had he been? My heart was beating so fast it hurt, my ears were ringing, my eyes darted around the room as I turned my head towards the source of the sound. Books, sofa, chairs, table and finally the old man. The brush in his hand was dripping ink, ready to attack the paper, begging its master to strike the fatal blow. But the hand remained frozen in mid-air, refusing to complete its action, until finally the old man laid down his weapon without the ink having been poured.
"How do you feel?"
I clenched my jaw at the first syllable he uttered, closed my eyes as his tongue clicked the first word and groaned as he finished his sentence. The old man said nothing after that, understanding that I needed some time to remember that sounds had meaning.
"Have you calmed down now?"
I nodded tentatively, and that seemed to satisfy him. He took his glasses between his fingers, blew on the lenses before wiping them with the back of his shirt.
"I'm Flannery's grandfather. She asked me to look after you while she looked after the town."
"My..."
I stopped, surprised at my own voice. Its hoarse timbre sounded like an old, jammed machine. I tried again, but the words scratched the back of my throat, hitting my tongue and lips, impossible to understand. I had no choice. With my free hand I drew some shapes in the air, miming what I couldn't pronounce. I wasn't very good at it, and for the moment I thought I could guess what Charmeleon usually felt. The old man frowned, concentrating on deciphering my movements.
"Would you like some water? Some food? Wait, wait, not so fast. A pillow?"
He listed everything he could think of, trying to imagine what I might say, without for a moment trying to understand me. It was so frustrating.
"Po...e...on."
Struggling, choppy, but this time I hoped he understood. While I coughed, the man had his chin tucked between his fingers, deep in thought. I was really beginning to lose heart when he exclaimed:
"Oh, yes, of course. Your other pokemons are fine, but as for this charizard... Just so you know, it's neither mine nor my little girl's," he announced.
So that meant... No, that wasn't possible, not that fast. I turned my head back to the sleeping pokemon beside me. Was it really... my Charmeleon? But how could he have evolved so quickly... What had he done to him? How badly had that man hurt him to force him to evolve! If only... if only I'd been up to the task.
I raised my hand to his face and touched it gently. I was afraid he'd wake up, afraid I'd let him down. He opened his eyes and stared at me for a long time.
"Char?"
Those brown irises that reminded me of a certain trainer... So it really was you. I pulled my hand back, as if I expected him to bite it if he noticed. He moved, his small white fangs protruding from his closed mouth coming closer and... It was warm. He had pressed his cheek against mine.
"Zaaaard," he sighed softly.
The smell of wood fire, my breathing calmed. The wing throbbed, my heart slowed, his scales trembled, my skin warmed, the flame crackled, my senses dulled. Cradled, the pain eased, scratching now and then, fighting the numbing heat.
He moved away.
The pain awoke, glad to be out of its lethargy, and celebrated by ripping my shoulder off, tearing my arm to shreds as it went. A thin gurgle, tears I couldn't hold back and he looked at me, understanding. Don't go.
Selfish. I wanted him to forget, to forgive me, to give me another chance. Selfish. I wanted him to forget the bruises on his body, to ignore the bloody bandages that mended his skin.
"Center... where's the..."
Making up for things I couldn't prevent. The hope that he would trust me again, once the wounds were gone, without a scar, without any scar at all. But the man's weary sigh was to end my dream.
"At the moment, the Pokemon Center is still unable to provide the usual care. We have to make do with what we have."
Don't go. My terrified gaze never left the orange reptile, knowing he would disappear sooner or later. Don't go.
"What are you...? Don't get so excited!"
I rolled onto my side, looking for a corner of the table or something to help me up. Leaning on my injured shoulder, my legs twitched, they hadn't expected me to put them out of their misery so quickly. But I had to keep moving, Ash always said the important thing was to keep moving, not to stand still. Could you give me a few seconds, Charizard? Just long enough for me to get up and get some disinfectant to treat you. I'll make them disappear, all your wounds, I'll make them disappear.
"Serena, Serena, you're going to hurt yourself," the old man said.
He tried to hold me back with his withered arms, and he succeeded. His face was scarred from too many years, his hair was grey, his body was emaciated, but he could hold me back with ease. And Charizard looked, he saw... he saw which trainer he had followed so far. Don't go.
"Chari..." the pokemon murmured.
He had come back. His wing was resting on me again, his dull, tired eyes struggling to look at me. He hadn't left, he hadn't asked me to let him go. He just lay there, without a word of comfort, without a snarl of anger, without a look of contempt. He just lay there and I started to hope. He lay there and I told myself that what I had done on the volcano, my decision in that moment... It was the right decision.
Do you know what day it is today? That was one of the first questions I was asked when I woke up. I thought I knew, I answered, but I was wrong. I stood there and listened as Flannery's grandfather told me about what had happened, about all the days that had passed...
"Make the pinch with your thumb and forefinger."
I'd barely woken up when the doctor took it into his head to give me a whole series of exercises, bringing my arms in, spreading my fingers, lifting or bending my wrist. I hadn't even had time to change and found myself standing in front of this man wearing nothing but an old white shirt that was starting to turn yellow.
"You have to do it with your left hand too," the carer reminded me.
I got it! It just... took longer to move than the right, but I would get there. The man waited, glancing discreetly at the watch on his wrist. I couldn't blame him, even I found this slowness annoying.
"Good. Now resist me."
He was careful not to say 'resist' again. I had put all my strength into it, all my thoughts into keeping my fingers in place, but he had beaten me with ease. I lowered my head, fed up with it all.
"Do you feel anything different when I touch you?"
Did he mean the feeling of my arm being wrapped in cotton wool, or the fact that I could barely feel the pressure of his fingers?
"Yes, I can."
"You can describe it to me."
I did so, not really knowing how it would help him. As I explained, I couldn't help but look at Charizard lying next to me. He hadn't moved, hadn't reacted, just watched, witnessing my failures.
"You need a good rehabilitation," he said, seemingly talking to himself. "I have to admit that communication is still down, and if we want to contact the hospital in Mauville, we'll have to send a local or a pokemon... Anyway, we should be able to find a way to transfer you soon, now that those damn Aqua are gone."
He paused for a moment. I could tell he was going through the various options he had for me. But I wasn't really interested in this transport business, what I wanted to know was... The doctor nodded before continuing:
"We can also find someone in the area to take you directly there, it should be possible as you're stable."
"My shoulder?" was the only thing I could think of to say.
Ever since I'd woken up, that big white bandage had been hiding my wound, and I hoped I'd never see it again until it was completely healed.
"I know a surgeon who does a good job. You can see him in a year and he should be able to fade the marks."
"The marks?"
I saw him thinking, as if he was trying to find the best way to tell me something I didn't want to hear. Finally he gave up, looked me in the eye and said with the assurance of a man who had seen it all before:
"You know, between the burn and the wound itself... We can make things better, but there won't be any miracles.
My heart sank. I didn't think it would be so hard to hear, that I would want to cry so much. The bandage weighed heavily on my shoulder, taunting me, reminding me that one day I'd have to take it off, one day I'd have to look. A scar... would my clothes be enough to hide it? My pokemon's attention was still on me. I closed my eyes, hoping the tears would disappear before he noticed.
"It's just a scar, it doesn't matter," I managed to say in a weak voice.
He stood up and I suddenly realised how much he'd grown. He'd barely reached my thigh when he was Charmeleon and now he must have easily outgrown me by a head or two. He didn't say anything, but the air around me had grown hotter and I felt as if I was being crushed by his gaze. Anger... he was angry with me? Why?
"Charizard?" I panicked.
He craned his long neck towards me, the gleam in his eyes making me tremble. Had I done something wrong? I lowered my head, convinced he was going to yell at me. He didn't. He sighed, lay down again, this time wrapping his neck around his body, and closed his eyes. Had he felt it? Had he felt my trembling at the thought of bearing a scar? My fear... for so little...
"I can still..."
"Char," he grunted in annoyance.
You tire me, Serena, you really tire me. It was perhaps the first time I understood... that I heard so clearly what he was trying to tell me.
"You mentioned rehabilitation... For how long?"
"A few months, probably."
"Do I have to go?"
"Well, you need specialised, supervised training if you are to make a full recovery and..."
"Can't I do that on my own?"
"I can't guarantee it, in fact I'd say it would be a waste of luck."
"But it is possible."
"I would advise against it. Then you're free to take my advice, I'm not forcing you to do anything."
After a while, my pokemons will have recovered, and I'll be the only one left to look after them. And Charizard would be bored, wondering why he had to stay and do nothing, why he had to wait for me.
"Did you hear Charizard? I'll get better soon, we'll start the competitions again and you'll be able to fight and... and... you'll win, I'll help you win!"
He didn't answer, only his flame glowed a pale blue before returning to its usual colour. What did you want me to do? What could I do to convince you that I could be your trainer?
"I won't let you down."
He looked up this time, his scales darker. His flames could melt stone, his claws could rip through flesh and his tail could shatter bone. A creature I could only control with this ridiculous object called pokeball. A beast that wouldn't allow itself to be controlled by this system for much longer, perhaps even throwing it off.
"He... He doesn't seem to be in a good mood."
The doctor hissed these words. He was staring at the monster approaching us, his leg twitching nervously.
"His pokeball? Do you have his pokeball?"
He looked feverish, his face flushed and his brow beaded with sweat.
"Call him back! Call him back now!"
He had stood up, backed away, his eyes bulging. And I understood his terror better as the monster stood before me, its mouth full of flame.
"For the sake of Arceus, call him back!"
He pointed the flames at me.
"He's really..."
The hatred in his eyes.
"Call..."
The doctor's screams had stopped. The reptile had walked past me without stopping, and now he was facing the door, his hand on the handle. Look at me. He opened it. Don't go. He slammed it shut.
"Don't leave me."
The days passed slowly at Lavaridge. Joy came by regularly to check on my friends and promised that her center would soon be renovated so that the treatments could be completed. By the time that was done, it would probably be too late for us to enter the first scheduled competition, but we would still be in time for the one in Fallarbor Town.
"Sylv?" my pokemon on my lap called.
She touched my shoulder with her ribbon. I stroked her head in return, hoping she'd believe me when I told her it wasn't serious.
"Veon..." my friend murmured.
I followed her gaze, my clothes still lying in a corner. I hadn't been able to put them back on, too much mending to do, and with my hand... it would take time.
The front door slammed, startling us both. Flannery had returned and Sylveon was already hiding under the chair, her ears down and her ribbons tucked up against her. She hadn't slept much lately, pricking her ears and moaning whenever she heard a noise, even a drop of water falling from a badly turned off tap. I'd had to keep her in her pokeball to give her a rest, and even then I was convinced she was waking up repeatedly, screaming in terror as she was engulfed in nightmares.
Bad dreams, the things that had always haunted her nights, like ghosts wanting to do some bad things. Disturbing, but never evil, knowing full well the line they should never cross. So why was he standing in front of me? The huge pendant clanking against his chest, his eyes shadowed by the blue headband and the smile of a man who would soon find satisfaction as the monster's huge jaws closed. A nightmare, a bad dream, a gas that couldn't hurt me. But the fangs gleamed under the light of the bulb, reflecting off the covers of the books, and as I sat in my chair I searched for the edge, expecting to crash into it.
I could see myself screaming, I could see my face distorted and the fangs tearing into my shoulder, imprinting themselves on it, promising me they would never go away.
"Serena? Serena, are you listening?"
The open fridge door cast its light across the rest of the kitchen, separated from the living room only by a solid wood bar table. Flannery was staring at me, her face glowing in the pale light.
"Sylveon had a nightmare," I said, my throat dry.
"It's true I heard noises last night," she mused, picking up a can. "Well, like I said, those idiots from Team Aqua..."
Last night? It's true that nightmares only come at night, when you're asleep... asleep... The leader slammed the door, frightening Sylveon even more. I wanted to calm her down, to take her in my arms and tell her that everything would be all right. But I couldn't move, my body was frozen, my breathing stopped.
"You're really pale," the girl with the red hair said.
The white appliance swayed slightly, still in shock from its owner's violence. The microwave also suffered from the leader's temper and its door was almost torn off.
"She's scared," I said weakly.
Flannery didn't hear me, watching intently as her dish rotated in the oven. I felt Sylveon's ribbon press against my wrist. She wouldn't come out of hiding, not with all that noise. I would have fled the room myself if the roar of the machine hadn't pinned me to my chair.
"Archie hadn't had enough, he had to get his little team together again and come to my town, to our volcano, to carry out his plans."
The microwave signalled the end of cooking with a timid 'ding'. As if the object was afraid the leader would touch it again.
"And they left without a care in the world. You know what kills me most about all this? It's that Grandfather wisely obeyed them and persuaded the others to do the same."
"He didn't want anyone to get hurt," I ventured timidly.
Flannery was sitting on the huge table, her crossed legs dangling in the air as she looked out over the living room. She opened the lid of her bowl, revealing three tamato berries. "Extra spicy", the kind that even a fire type would find hard to swallow. She took the first bite, pursed her lips and her face turned red.
"No, Serena. My grandfather is strong despite his age and if he had wanted to fight, all the inhabitants would have followed him and the henchmen wouldn't have been so proud."
"But even you lost..."
I swallowed, I didn't know if Flannery's scarlet face was related to the food that burned her palate or if...
"It wasn't a defeat!" she shouted.
She had spilt her food. The red sauce was dripping onto the wood and I could feel that I had missed an opportunity to keep quiet. The trainer slid down from her perch and grabbed a sponge to wipe up the sticky mess.
"I am the gym leader of Lavaridge Town. I have a role and responsibilities. Do you understand that? The people of this town trust me, they believe in me, just as the trainers I face every day believe in my strength, in the value of my badge. But I've been forced to give in to them and you... What exactly have you done? Apart from leaving me with a Charizard who couldn't even fight. A Charizard who wisely obeyed them, forgetting his pride."
"He was wounded!"
"He was weak! And even he realised it, even he must have realised at that moment how following you in contests had..."
Flannery gritted her teeth. The table was clean now, and had been for some time.
"What exactly are you doing here? While your pokemon is out there struggling to learn to fly."
"He's... I can't follow him."
"You can't or he won't?"
I lowered my head. Since he had more or less mastered his wings, he didn't hesitate to wander off and spend whole days in the air. And no matter how much I waited for him, even after midnight, he never came home.
The door opened and my eyes widened as my lips formed an 'o' of surprise. He was there, though he didn't look at me once as he headed for the kitchen cupboards. Flannery approached the fire type without hesitation and began to speak. The reptile made a few grunts, but didn't push her away. Maybe he even enjoyed it...
"Are you hungry? I can try to make you something to eat, although it might take a little longer than usual," I offered with a strained smile as I looked down at my arm.
The cupboard door slammed almost as loudly as if Flannery had helped herself. My pokemon left the room, a box of pokemon food in his hand. Kibbles he usually never touched, so much so that I had to find recipes and cook them just for him. He didn't like them, he'd never liked them, and yet... just when I'd told him I could cook again...
"Serena, give me Charizard."
A cry of astonishment choked my throat. I stared at Flannery, convinced I'd heard wrong.
"I will train him and restore his confidence in his strength. Then you can take him back if you want, if he wants."
"No..." I trembled. "He's just tired, he needs time, but he doesn't want to..."
How far was I willing to lie? How far was I prepared to forget the vow I'd made to Verdanturf? But I couldn't, I just couldn't accept it.
"I'm home!"
A cheerful old man had come through the door, his plastic bag no doubt filled with brushes and pots of ink.
"Come on, come on, making faces like that at your age, save it for your old age."
"There are serious things, Grandpa, even at our age," Flannery replied.
"Oh well. I'd like to know what they are. More of your stories about sending those poor people from the hot springs and restaurants to fight the evil Team Aqua."
She glared at him, her hands clutching the tops of her trousers.
"Charizard doesn't eat."
"I just saw him walk by with a tin of food," Mr Moore scoffed, putting down his bag.
"Yes, and he'll throw it away after one bite, just like all the others."
I was speechless at this revelation and the old man turned to me, silently asking me if it was true. But I didn't know, I hadn't even imagined he could do that.
"You hadn't even noticed, had you?" challenged the leader.
"Flannery," squeaked the grandfather.
"What's the matter? Would you rather I didn't say anything? I remind you that it was you who taught me that charizards lose weight without you noticing. It would probably have gone on for a few months before she noticed."
"And of course you waited until I was there to tell her."
"Charizards aren't just any pokemon! They need discipline, battle, real battle. That's why Charicific Valley exists, that's why a coordinator will never be able to..."
Flannery stopped dead in her tracks, her face frozen in an expression of pure astonishment as she looked at her grandfather's hand, which was as red as her cheek.
"And you call yourself a gym leader."
"I..."
Mr Moore closed his eyes, refusing to hear any more. He walked over to me and bowed.
"On behalf of Lavaridge Gym, I'd like to apologise."
"Grandpa!"
"Keep your mouth shut. You'll embarrass us again."
The leader opened her mouth before closing it. She mumbled a short word of apology and turned her head away without lowering it.
"Do you... do you think Charizard is ill?"
Mr Moore turned to his granddaughter and nodded for her to answer. Up and to the left, Flannery stared at the corner of the wall.
"Flannery," Mr Moore thundered.
She was stubbornly silent. I kept asking:
"If... If I cook, do you think he'll eat again?"
Without stopping to look at that corner of the wall, her eyes drifting, she replied:
"I don't know."
It was a beautiful kitchen. The cooker hood was blowing brightly, the black cupboards and drawers lined up perfectly and the sink gleamed with shiny steel.
"No!"
My scream hadn't been enough to stop it. The bowl had taken advantage of the weakness in my hand to escape, spilling its contents all over the floor. I stared at them, my clumsy fingers tingling again. I flexed them one by one, squeezing them as hard as I could until I had to use my other hand to force them to stay in that position.
"That's enough. Now, that's enough."
"Braixen, Braixen."
She'd already started to clean something up, but I stopped her.
"I'll take care of it! It's not up to you..."
"Braix!" she cut me off before kneeling down.
She'd been helping me for several hours. Fixing my mistakes, helping my failing arm, without complaint, without resentment. Her fur was dirty, I hadn't taken the time to clean it since I woke up.
"Panch pancha?"
Pancham had returned from the storeroom with Plusle, both of them with arms full of sugar, flour and milk. Not that the kitchen was short of them, but... there had been other failures.
"Braix, Xainbraix," the vixen sighed.
The panda set down his load. Normally he would have just jumped onto the worktop, but I knew he wouldn't, he couldn't do that anymore.
"Panch?" he asked.
He stared intently at my hands, which were covered in small bandages. Braixen had forbidden me to touch a knife after the sixth time.
"I just dropped it."
"Cham."
He had instinctively touched the rim of his glasses. They'd probably be easier to repair than... my mouth twisted as I recognised the bandage around his knee.
"It won't be long before the Pokemon Center reopens."
He shrugged before putting his hands behind his head, pretending nothing had happened.
"Cham Pancham," he asked Plusle.
The pokemon nodded shyly and jumped up on the table to pick up the various packages Pancham had sent him. He had no choice, his brother preferring to stay in his pokeball. The bowl glowed, and a shadow stretched across it, taking the form of a pokemon with sharp fangs, its mouth wide open, ready to pounce...
"Plus!" the pokemon shouted, signalling that everything was ready for another try.
"Sorry to force this on you."
The evening was well underway when the choux pastry was finally placed in the oven. I still had to decorate it, add various embellishments... I stared at the clock, I had time, I had plenty of time before he came back. If he came back.
"Plusl..."
He should rest. Especially since his wounds took so long to close... especially his arms, every time I saw them, the white stripes were stained with blood.
"Panch! Cham!"
Ever since he'd evolved, everything was so...
"XEN!"
Pokepuffs! I rushed to open the oven, but black smoke came out and made me cough. How could they have burned so quickly? I looked at the thermostat... too hot, way too hot for the mixture. But it was too late, everything was ruined, everything had to be redone.
And now the fire alarm went off, my nose tingling with the acrid smell. I could hear someone approaching and the sound of footsteps tensed my muscles. At worst it would be Flannery, at worst... But wasn't there another sound accompanying her? Like the clanking of an oversized pendant beating to the rhythm of its owner's footsteps.
"Serena, are you all right?"
Mr Moore looked around to see what had happened.
"It burnt," I hiccupped.
The machine was still screaming and Moore couldn't take his eyes off me.
"Is that all?" he asked.
I nodded, not knowing where to stand with all the trouble I was causing. The old man pulled a chair out from under his arm and placed it under the machine.
"I'll do it!" I called, not wanting to cause any more trouble.
"Serena, have you slept lately?"
"I've... I've had enough rest."
Mr Moore climbed onto the chair and stopped the shrill screaming.
"I don't think your body quite agrees with you," he said.
I didn't immediately understand what he meant until he handed me a box of tissues. I was in tears, my nose was running and sobs were choking me.
"Go and sit down for a while."
I listened to him, pressing the handkerchief to my cheeks and swollen eyes. At what point had I snapped? My other pokemons surrounded me, and Braixen placed a comforting hand on my back. Mr Moore was right. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to close my eyes and stop thinking. But the nightmares weren't just nightmares. So vivid, so precise, so real, they left me no respite. That sound Flannery heard that night, that sound... it was my screams as the monster sank its fangs into my shoulder!
"Was it all for Charizard?"
"I have to throw it away."
"Do you think Flannery's right?"
I stared down at the crumpled white handkerchief in my hand. Charizard didn't speak to me, didn't look at me, didn't listen to me. It hadn't been enough, sacrificing myself hadn't been enough to earn his respect and...
"I don't know," I murmured.
"You don't know? No idea at all?"
"He hates me..." I finally admitted.
The grandfather ran his hand through his thick hair, the grey curls tangled around his fingers.
"For a pokemon that's supposed to hate you, I thought he was particularly worried when he was at your bedside waiting for you to wake up," he remarked with a detached air.
I looked up, but Mr Moore was already heading for the door.
"Charizard needs to regain his strength, I'm counting on you," he finished with a wink.
While I was unconscious... Charizard... did he look after me?
It was late, everyone was asleep, and the pokepuffs had been cold for a while. The door opened. The heavy footsteps of the fire monster echoed in the living room and I took a deep breath, hesitant at the thought of being alone with him.
"Char?" he looked at me in surprise.
"I made you some pokepuffs," I explained.
He looked at the pastries on the table before making an odd grimace and refusing. Predictable... but the old man's words came back to me. Maybe it wasn't my fault, maybe he really was sick. I got up from my chair and put the back of my hand against his cheek. Refusing sweets... He must have had a fever. But the pokemon quickly backed away, his eyes fixed on the floor. My jaw clenched, wondering why I was still so stubborn, but...
"Charizard, you know that if something goes wrong..."
"Zar," he cut me off curtly.
"I'm just worried about you!"
I stepped back as he suddenly raised his head, a gleam of anger in his eyes. His flame was crackling, the red hues suddenly very worrying.
"Why are you reacting like this?"
My fingers touched the ribbon on my wrist. I was the only one to notice it, to see that its bright blue had faded. I could have been angry at Flannery, I could have been angry at her for not paying more attention. I could have... But the care she took to smooth out the creases, the attention she paid to tidying it up properly, it was as if she knew its value, as if she'd guessed its importance. Yes, in the midst of the rest of my messy clothes, it was the only thing she had taken care of.
This ribbon, this ribbon Ash had given me, it had always given me courage, and today I still hoped... Charizard turned his head. Charizard didn't answer me. Charizard... this piece of cloth that clung to my wrist... My hand fell back.
The colourful pokepuffs I'd spent so much time preparing hadn't moved from the table. I collapsed into the chair, my head weighing a ton, and that discussion, that cursed discussion, came back to me. That promise I'd made to him right after our victory in Verdanturf...
"Give me another chance," I whispered. "One last chance."
His shoulders trembled, his scales darkened and the glow of his flame faded. I thought he would remain silent, but instead he lowered his head towards me and looked into my eyes.
"Char," he said at last.
I clenched my hands as he left the room without touching the pokepuffs. He'd agreed, he'd given me another chance and... I put my hand to my shoulder, remembering the pain. It was nothing, it wasn't important, it wasn't something I regretted.
I won't let you down.