Hello :P It is not Wednesday but I am back with a new chapter, a day late again. I spent the day yesterday with my dad watching Harry Potter so by the time we said goodbye in the evening, I wasn't really in the mood to read through a story and upload it. But I'm here now and this one is the introduction of a new character. The character of Derek has been rattling around in my brain for a while now. A few years ago I came up with the character of Greta (Professor Oak's ex wife and Gary's grandmother) and wanted her to have a new partner. After working more and more with one of the volunteers at work and hearing about her husband, he began to develop quickly. But enough about that for now - I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Ages:

Gary: 33

Jayme: 31

Greta: 80

Derek: 6

Dylan: 77

Eddie: 12

Melissa: 12

Disclaimer: I own the story and the brand new character of Derek :3

The attractive grey haired old lady smiled at the photo she held in her right hand before her other hand went to her mouth. The corners of her lips were smiling and her eyes were too as her fingers brushed against her chin. Her welcoming hazel eyes then moved to the photo memory she was holding so dearly before she offered it to her grandson, her orbs still showing the same softness. She was lighting up for the person in the photo and the one at her side.

"This is the one, Gary. This is the one of your father on his wedding day. Don't you two look so alike?" Greta told her grandson before asking him, her eyes flickering as she watched him accept the photo in his own hands. She was almost holding her breath and who could blame her? It was the first time she'd seen them almost together in a very long time again.

Gary knew his grandmother was withholding emotion judging by the way she kept on babbling to him and his wife long after his eyes fixed on the photo. He understood. He understood very well indeed. His own breath hitched as he looked down, his mind and heart studying the photo of his deceased father which was taken when he was very much alive. Jayme peeked over his shoulder and rested her hand on his shoulder as she watched him react to it.

Despite the emotion he was feeling – the same exact feeling as Greta was having – his own mouth quirked into a smile. He shook his head slowly, his other hand being used to brush his auburn locks from his eyes. He almost whispered.

"He looks so happy. That's how I remember him." He told his grandmother and his wife simply, not feeling the need to say anything else. Though there was deep pain in his heart, he felt contentment too. Like he was seeing an old friend. Well, he was. His father had been very much a friend to him. And though he didn't like to dwell on it too much or show his vulnerable side, he missed him every day.

I felt a lump growing in my throat as the photo was then passed to Jayme so she could see the face belonging to her father in law. I smiled wistfully. I felt that one too many people in our group shared losses. It was vastly unfair. But I knew that, despite the pain, they were still very much whole. They had people missing from their lives, but they were strong. And they were together. The missing people were missed. But we were all a family too.

I gently drifted away from my melancholy thoughts and turned my head absent-mindedly to where Dylan had been standing next to his mother's hip minutes before. I blinked as I realised. He was no longer there. My neck craned. I glanced over to the window. Not there. I flickered over to Greta's armchair. He wasn't sitting in there. I turned my head back to the door leading to the hall. I could have sworn I heard little shoe scuffing noises out there. But before I went to investigate, I checked to see if anybody else had noticed he had gone missing.

Greta continued rummaging in her photo box for memories, her smile filled with warmth but her eyes flickering with loss. Jayme stayed studying the photo of Edward Oak, whom her husband and son looked so much like. Gary stayed close to her side, inwardly wishing that things were different. None of them noticed the little boy had gone walk-about. So it was up to me to find him.

I waited until the grey haired older lady found yet another photo memory to share and slipped out of the room when I saw they were all distracted. My ears pricked, listening for any noises. I heard distant footsteps up the other end of the long wooden floored hall. I followed it, my nose in the air to give my sense of smell a whirl also.

I couldn't help but shake my head as I did so. Tender and vulnerable moments were happening in the living room but of course a six year old couldn't tell this, least of all Dylan. I continued following both my nose and my ears. I furrowed my brow as I seemed to be getting nowhere. But then I realised, all I had to do was use my eyes. My head tilted towards the right side and there I saw it.

The purple haired young boy was reaching up to the door handle to swing open the large Oak door. He used all of his might to make a crack in it. I crept forward to follow him, trying not to make a noise. My own orbs were wide with curiosity and his really were too. He let out little humming noises as he made a bigger gap in the door and slipped inside. Luckily, I scurried silently after him so I was able to put my nose in the gap and stop the door from locking behind him. I really wanted to know – what was he up to?

My nose nudged further into the gap to stay comfortably and, from the other side of the door, my ears listened to Dylan's raggedy humming. I edged a little forward so my eyes could see into the room as well. I watched, my eyes straining with all of my might.

The unfamiliar room was very lowly lit. The purple haired little lad could most likely see seeing as he was nearer to the source of light but, from my position, it was rather difficult to see. But still, I tried.

Instead of trying to look around the room and familiarise myself with its décor, I watched Dylan. His unusual coloured orbs were growing wider each second with intrigue and he was beginning to circle around to walk backwards, his thumb going into his mouth. His eyes widened even further as he sucked on his finger, his neck craning towards the ceiling.

I couldn't tell very well what he was looking at but I could see the glint in his young eyes from the lowly lit power source. Something was intriguing and pleasing him very much. And I knew I was correct in this assumption when he began to walk around backwards in a faster pace, his neck craning all around.

He looked up. He looked down. He looked left. He looked right. His eyes flickered with joy at each glance. He took more steps backwards. His thumb lowered from his mouth to concentrate even harder at taking in all the sights. I pushed my nose further forward in the gap in the door so my whole head was through it. Dylan's eyes flickered. He briefly stopped looking at what was fascinating him and almost met my eyes.

But before he could see me, he took another step backwards. Perhaps a step too big. The back of his knee suddenly nudged into something and he tripped, falling down into the chair. I gasped when, in that moment, a lamp on a side table suddenly turned on. My eyes widened as my pupils could then see everything that there was to be seen. There was someone sitting on the chair by the light and he had switched it on when Dylan accidentally fell on his lap.

The old man looked as startled as the little boy should have been but he tried to remain calm and in control, his thin lips quickly moving into a collected smile.

"Now, now, there's no need to be frightened." He told Dylan before he squirmed and looked alarmed; using his soft hands to place him back on the ground in case he squealed. But he didn't. The old man continued reassuring him. "You just accidentally fell onto where I was sitting. Sorry it's so dark."

The unfamiliar male told the little boy and I assumed he was worried that Dylan would begin to cry judging by the way his eyes were flickering nervously. But he didn't. He looked at the white haired man with eyes showing the same intrigue as when he was looking around the room. The elderly male swallowed.

"Perhaps you'd better be heading back to your mother and father. Greta was so very pleased that you all came to visit." He tried to persuade Dylan by giving him a ginger nudge but he still didn't budge. For once, he had his eyes locked on him.

As I pushed the rest of my head and neck in through the crack in the door, I suddenly gasped to myself. I suddenly understood. Greta, Gary's paternal grandmother and ex-wife of Professor Oak, had mentioned a new companion to the auburn haired male and us all when they first got back in contact. But seeing as it wasn't his grandfather, he didn't really want to know. He didn't think anything of it when he was told said companion would keep away when Gary, his wife and children visited her in her home in Kalos. But I did. It left me with questions. I understood that Gary would be wary of him but why would he be wary of Gary? I didn't question it too much. There was no need. But it always stayed in the back of my mind. And in that moment, it was beginning to arise again.

The white haired man tried to give the little boy another nudge with his hand and this time, he began to stand up to show him to the door. He looked rather worried in case that was the time he had upset Dylan when he suddenly darted away from him. But after his soft eyes flickered with concern, he could see he was mistaken.

The purple haired little boy had gone back to walking around backwards in circles, his eyes fixed upwards as he looked with intrigue towards the ceiling and all of the shelves around the room. I decided to copy Dylan. My own eyes wandered. And then I understood. I breathed out fondly.

Hanging from the ceiling – from every square inch and every nook and cranny – was planes. Model planes, toy planes, clockwork planes and hand painted planes. It was aeroplane galore. I began to beam to myself. It all clicked for me. No wonder Dylan had looked so delighted.

The room was also decorated with clocks, every kind you could think of. Grandfather ones, cuckoo ones and even the broken kind. And there were books too. Old books, new books, children's books and story books. It was a haven for the eyes. But Dylan only had one interest. And the old man began to realise.

"Oh…" he mumbled to himself and when he did so, I then realised that he was speaking with an English accent. He moved out of his chair to carefully bend down on his knee near to the little boy. His eyes still flickered unsurely. "You like my clocks do you?"

I couldn't help but laugh to myself. He had almost got it. He was very close. I found it endearing that he had got it wrong. It made me want to stay and watch even more. The youngest Oak child didn't even have to correct him with words. He nonchalantly shook his head and went back to looking.

The white haired man then saw Dylan's neck crane towards the plane and his eyes light up with such delight. Of course, then he knew.

"Oh!" he repeated but that time, in a much more vocal tone before he grew almost shy. His delicate fingers went to smooth his unruly moustache, nodding his head slowly. He couldn't help but smile. "Oh, of course. It's my planes you like, is it?"

I knew that Dylan was unlikely to reply with words and especially not to a stranger and I was right. But he nodded his head enthusiastically and he began running around forward facing, his finger pointing up at all the aeroplanes that hung above our head. The unnamed man continued giving him a whiskery smile.

"Well I'm very pleased." He told the little boy quietly but truthfully, taking his time and putting his hand on his knee as he supported himself to stand up. When he did so, he was surprisingly tall for his age. He continued watching the antics of the fascinated child before he leaned closer to him. Despite his shyness and almost awkwardness, he found himself asking. "Do you have a favourite?"

Once again, Dylan didn't respond with words but he nodded his head eagerly. He jumped up and down before he suddenly began swatting at a particular aeroplane hanging on its string from the ceiling. Though he was far from hitting it – he was only six years old – the man's eyes widened with concern. He tapped him on the head lightly.

"Careful." He told him and he almost cringed before lightly taking hold of his shoulders, pulling him back. After Dylan looked at him with a simply blank stare, the man chuckled to himself. He softened again. "You're very enthusiastic. Is it this one you like best? I'll get it down for you."

After the unique child nodded his head and uttered a level toned 'yes' to the stranger, the older male got out his little step ladder so he was able to reach up to the plane to fetch it for the little boy. He seemed happy to do so but there was also a little streak of him that was almost grumpy. That intrigued me.

Greta had said that her companion wouldn't be joining us but she had never mentioned that he would be in the house. That was, if he was in fact the man she was referring to. Otherwise, she hadn't mentioned a lodger or staff in a home. So I was assuming the white haired man was her new partner. But who could tell?

The white haired man tucked his little portable step ladder back under his arm chair after he used it to get the plane down for Dylan. He then went back down to his knees and gestured for the little boy to join him as he placed it down on the wooden floor. He pushed the rug out of the way to give them more space.

"There she is. Be careful with her, yes?" he asked his new acquaintance and, of course, Dylan replied with a nod. I assumed that this wouldn't be enough for the old man but I was wrong. He didn't nod like he had before. He nodded almost like an adult and very sincerely indeed. He knew what was being asked of him. He watched the gentle orbed male stroke 'her' propellers lovingly. "She is lovely. Look, I've cleaned her up so well, you can even see your face in her face!"

I blinked upon hearing this and Dylan did too. His mouth hung open gently and a little saliva of confusion formed in the corner of his mouth as he looked between the man and his plane. He looked at the plane more than the man which caused him to chuckle.

"See." He told the little boy simply before picking his plane back off the ground and holding it in front of his face so he was looking at its propellers. He gasped with fascination and luckily I was in range to see it myself.

I smiled. Lo and behold. The room was filled with clocks. The room was filled with planes. And the aircraft that Dylan had picked up had a clock face instead of its usual nose. This caused the autistic male to let out a gentle squeal and press his nose to the clocks face, looking at his own reflection.

The semi-grumpy looking male softened and smiled upon hearing this and he kneeled properly next to him when Dylan picked up the string in between his fingers and used it to drag the plane around the room like it was heading down a runway. He did it with such carefulness and precision and he briefly glanced up at the man for approval. He couldn't help but give him it.

"Very good." The older male told him, causing him to squint happily and continue to do what he was doing with even more excitement and enthusiasm. But, despite this, he didn't stop being gentle. He continued playing with the aeroplane with the respect and calmness that she and her owner deserved.

After watching the little boy play with one particular plane for a few minutes, the old man moved closer to him and moved his hands away from the aeroplane. Dylan blinked when he was stopped. But the old man shyly held his small hand out to the little boy. He gave him sheepish smile, his eyes flickering.

"My name is Derek." He told him simply, gently taking hold of the little boy's wrist and assisting him to shake his hand back. After Dylan remembered that his grandfather had taught him to do that, he gladly shook it back. The white haired man's eyes twinkled. "What's yours, soldier?"

Upon hearing this, the purple haired little boy's expression changed from understanding and intrigue for the older male to complete confusion. His pupils dilated. His nostrils flared. He suddenly looked almost worried. He didn't understand what was being asked of him.

I imagined that Derek could have easily shared the same expression – I already knew he was the shy and nervous type – but instead, he just chuckled. He kept hold of the boy's fingers. He tried again.

"My name is Derek. What is your name?"

After pointing to the little boy's chest, Dylan's expression changed back to its usual angelic resting state mixed with a little bit of wonder for the older man and his planes. He meekly told him his name and after he did so and went back to playing with the clock aeroplane, Derek nodded his head almost approvingly.

"Very nice. We both share D names. Gentlemanly and strong, don't you think?" he asked him and I giggled when, of course, he didn't know what he was talking about. He didn't respond but his ears pricked. And I could tell that Derek almost liked that his young friend wasn't exactly a chatter box there and then.

The white haired male stood back up off his knees and rubbed them before going over to another plane that was hanging from the ceiling. He tweaked the string lightly with his fingers to make it bounce before he cleared his throat to get Dylan's attention. Surprisingly, it worked.

"This is my most favourite aeroplane of mine." He told him with a shy twinkle in his eye, his wrinkled cheeks getting slightly rosy when Dylan's eyes fixed lingeringly on him. But he continued speaking to him. "I used to fly it, you know?"

When the autistic male's eyes grew wide with hope and wonder as he imagined Derek shrinking down and being able to fly the model, the old man couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh. This made Dylan shy and he looked away and went back to playing. The old man continued chuckling quietly as he came back to the young boy's side, stroking his whiskers.

"No, no, boy." He began amusedly, his sweet eyes beginning to light up as he spent more and more time with the unique child. He watched him spin the propeller tenderly with his finger. "I used to fly that kind but a big version. I was a pilot for many many years, you see."

I listened to Derek talked to Dylan in that English accent of his and, needless to say, that sentence caused the young boy to look back over at him. His eyes widened and his ears pricked too. He was mesmerised and in a way, I was too.

I had been deeply touched when the Ketchum's had decided to merge a family trip to Kalos with the Oak's trip to visit Greta in the region that she then lived. I was even more honoured when Gary had asked me along to her house along with he, his wife and their children. I didn't know why he asked at the time and I still don't. All I know is that I am grateful for it. I was happy to be a part of their family expanding and getting in touch with estranged relatives but I was even more grateful that I was witnessing the interaction between Derek and Dylan. It was completely unexpected. But moving all the same.

What was also vastly unexpected was that it was the purple haired little boy talking to the older male that got my attention. His pupils dilated with wonder as he heard about Derek's days as a pilot and when he was done telling stories, he piped up.

"Not now?" he asked him simply before patting his own head rhythmically and then doing the same to the clock face of the aeroplane. But lightly to not get too many finger prints on it. Not that Derek would have minded, though.

The white moustached old man blinked at the little boy speaking more than one word before his brow furrowed. He didn't quite understand what he was asking him. He was about to repeat the question when, as Dylan poked the wing of the aeroplane model, he suddenly understood.

"Ah, no, not now, soldier." He told him and I found myself smiling when it was apparent that Derek had already bestowed a little nickname upon him. I was certain that he really was Greta's companion and, if he wasn't, I was hoping that he soon would be! He stroked his upper lip as he answered Dylan's question. "Not anymore."

I suspected that the autistic male wouldn't see Derek's eyes almost flickering with sadness but I was proved wrong by the way he held his breath. His brown blended with teal eyes blinked and he edged closer to the older male. His eyelashes fluttered as he asked him.

"Why?" he began very simply and then surprised me by adding to his sentence. He paused. "It's… Dream come true."

I smiled to myself and Derek did too seeing the little boy coming into his own as he felt he too was himself as well. He continued stroking his upper lip as he thoughtfully went to sit back in his chair that was by the window, leaving the little boy playing with his favourite plane.

"That's a little bit complicated." He admitted, his eyes growing somewhat misty as he peered out towards the window though the blinds were shut. He then shrugged, flashing Dylan a small smile when he felt his eyes hovering on him. "It is a dream come true, you're very right. But something went wrong. And on top of that, I'm rather old!"

Derek ended his words with a bit of lightness and a chuckle but I could tell by the way Dylan didn't respond and how he tugged the plane along the ground almost in slow motion, he could sense there was more to it than just that. And I too could feel there was more to him than met the eye.

I had a lot of questions. I had lots and lots of questions. But I didn't barge into the room to ask them. I stayed watching.

I assumed that nothing would get Dylan's attention. He was in his element, in quiet and gentlemanly company and surrounded by planes. But that kid was hard to predict and difficult to put into a box, that was for sure. His ears pricked when he heard his older brother and sister playing in the garden. He did something unlike himself by rushing away from his plane to go and peek at the noise. When he saw the blinds were drawn, he yanked them out of the way to see.

"Careful!" Derek told him but not crossly and I noticed that he winced when the sun blared into his little room. He was forced to turn his small lamp off as it was a waste of electricity. His gentlemanly eyes adjusted to the new light and he squinted. Dylan perched his bottom on the low level window sill and he pressed his face against the glass like he had done to the clock face previously. He watched his siblings frolicking. Derek found himself quietly edging closer to look himself. "Ah yes. The older two, huh? I hope they don't cause you too much trouble."

The white haired old man began making small talk to the little boy about what he had heard his Greta (yes, he referred to her as his so I was convinced that they were an item and I was glad of it too) saying about all of her great grandchildren. But that time, Dylan wasn't listening to him. His face was pressing further against the glass.

Outside on the grass, Eddie and Melissa weren't acting like the pre-teens that they were. They were acting like the children that were still within them. They were stretching their arms out like aircraft swings and they were pretending to be aeroplanes, swooping around the garden. They had obviously seen their little brother doing it many a time before and decided they'd give it a go themselves. They made noises too, very realistic ones in fact. Dylan was proud. Dylan was ecstatic. Dylan wanted to join them.

He did another thing that was most unlike himself and he grabbed hand of the older man's wrist, causing him to melt beneath his pensioner exterior. His eyebrows rose with hope.

"I'm gonna go out there." He told his new friend and licked his lips excitedly before peering up at him. He blurted out. "You come?"

I didn't understand in that moment, but Dylan's words caused Derek's stomach to almost sink. His eyes flickered. He looked lost. He looked cracked. He looked almost ashamed. He carefully moved the little boy's fingers off his wrist and forced a shaky smile. He breathed out as he shook his head. Before he could give him a polite decline, Dylan grabbed hold of his wrist again and his wide eyes locked onto him.

"Why not?" he asked simply and somehow, for just a child of six years old, his voice showed vulnerability and understanding. For yet another reason I didn't understand in that moment, Derek was almost moved to tears. He let out another trembling breath but, this time, he didn't move Dylan's fingers off him.

"It's complicated." He told the little boy to buy himself some more time to think of an answer. But then he found himself telling the truth. Well, almost. "Going outside makes my stomach hurt. It doesn't make me feel very good."

This surprised me. This made my body freeze. I didn't understand what he meant at first. Since then, I have come to understand how and why. But in that moment, I was being almost as dense as my best friend. Outside was great, in my opinion. It was where the best things happened. But apparently not for Derek.

It was lucky that Dylan was in there and not me. I would've looked baffled. Dylan just shrugged and when Derek gave him a shy smile, he gave one back. He then wriggled out of his hold.

"Oh, okay." He mumbled as he began to dart across the wooden floor towards the door that he snuck in earlier that day. He flashed the clock aeroplane a look as if to tell it that he wasn't done spending time with it. "I'll go then."

I had just enough time to move out of the door and Dylan was about to exit it when, in that moment, Greta suddenly entered. She looked worried from obviously looking with her grandson and granddaughter in law for the little boy. But her hands then went on her hips when she located him and, following that, she gasped and looked apologetic at Derek.

"I'm so sorry, darling, did he wander in here? He certainly wasn't supposed to." She told him and before Derek could answer, she took hold of her great grandson's hand. "There really is a little bit of your father in you, after all, isn't there?"

Dylan just blinked up at the grey haired female and, after looking rather misty and thoughtful, Derek turned to look at Greta. He flashed her a smile to tell her that it was okay. And it was.

"No, no. Well, yes he did wander in here but it's alright." He told her and, because she didn't catch sight of the plane on the floor from being played with, he decided not to give her the full version. He continued. "I think he'd like to go outside."

Upon hearing this, Greta nodded her head and she continued holding onto Dylan's hand firmly but lovingly. She flashed Derek another smile before shutting the door, accidentally locking me in with the old man.

"Yes, yes, we'll be going now. Sorry again, darling." She told him and with that, I could hear her tugging her great grandson around to the garden. But I could tell from my acute hearing that Dylan broke out of her hold and scuffled down the halls himself. And he found his way to the garden – himself.

But unexpectedly to me, he didn't head towards where Eddie and Melissa were giggling and pretending to be aeroplanes. He did something far sweeter. Somehow, he knew which window to run up to. And when he clung onto the window sill and peered in, pressing his face against the glass, Derek's face on the other side lit up. I could tell from his reflection.

He bit his lip softly and leaned forward in his chair to open the window from his little room. Dylan clambered closer to diminish the gap between them but he stayed outside while Derek remained indoors. The purple haired little boy's face was almost squashed against his. He giggled and his eyes danced in his head. He asked him, sweetly and innocently.

"You come out sometime?" he questioned, his brown blended with teal orbs looking up at the old man with hope. He almost held his breath and Derek did too. He didn't want to lie to the little boy. And he certainly didn't want to disappoint him either. He knew that was something he couldn't promise. But, like Dylan, it was something that he could hope with happen.

He touched his cheeks as he smiled back at him.

"Maybe, soldier, just maybe. But for now, you can play out there, can't you?" he asked the little boy, softly, causing him to nod. His little legs made him jump up and down as he remained on the other side of the open window. He then leaned even closer, surprising for Dylan and beamed with even more hope than before when he asked another question.

"I'll see you again?" he asked with simplicity and hope, his eyes fixing lingeringly but warmly up at the white haired male. I held my breath but I didn't need to. Derek smiled down at the little boy as he continued holding his face in his hands.

That was something that, although he couldn't promise the first one, he was determined to make that one if not both happen. He nodded his head, the eyes of the old man meeting the eyes of the little young lad. He smiled warmly.

"You'll be seeing more of me, don't you worry about that." He told him and, though he didn't promise him with the word, he promised him with his eyes and that was most certainly enough.

It was enough for Dylan and it was enough for Derek. They were enough for each other. Derek didn't mind that Dylan was a lad of few words. Dylan didn't mind that Derek was an old man with a few secrets. They shared a special bond from the moment they met. And it was that bond, that opened up a whole new world for not only Dylan, but Derek too. The outside world.

The End.

There you go! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed :3 I love writing stories like this so much - two people who are worlds apart but find common ground and connecting very well. In Derek and Dylan's case, it's planes! So the lady I work with has a husband who is agoraphobic - and that's what's going on with Derek. I haven't really figured out yet how long things have been that way for him or how it happened (most likely an accident or scare when he's a pilot) but I'm sure I'll sort it all out soon! I did have this little idea though that Greta was/is a restaurant owner and used to own the one in Kanto before Delia took it over when she divorced Samuel Oak. And then after she moves to Kalos and has another restaurant there, she does home deliveries and that's how she meets Derek. Or maybe she knows him when he's out and about!

But thanks again for reading and I'll be back on the 28th with The Diary of Baby Rey so see you then :P

AmyBieberKetchum signing out :3