.

Two Wayfaring Girls

"Now you know how much my love for you burns deep in me when I forget about our emptiness, and deal with shadows as with solid things."

–Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio

The next morning, Misty found herself being awoken by something light and gauzy hitting her face.

"What the—?" Misty cried as her hands frantically came up to her face, pawing at the fabric, spitting as she pulled it down and away. Her eyes weren't even open yet. When she had it bunched up, she held it up and dazedly blinked at it with bleary eyes. "Is this your sarong?"

Misty blinked a couple more times and Phoebe's face came into focus, grinning at her before snatching the garment back.

"Yes, thanks so much, Misty," Phoebe said, her voice sounding surprisingly lively first thing in the morning. Not a hint of rasp or that lower alto pitch of morning. "But don't you think that you should be getting ready yourself before you start helping me out?"

Phoebe seemed almost smug—at what, Misty wasn't sure. Being the first to wake up? The first dressed? Misty, however, didn't have the energy to participate. Foggy memories of doing everything but sleeping were slowly returning to her.

"Your Banette was here when I woke up," Phoebe commented. "Left as soon as I saw her."

"Yeah, that sounds like her." Misty yawned as she pulled herself out of her sleeping bag.

It took a second, but the thought of Noir being there suddenly brought the whole night rushing back to Misty. She might have brushed the whole affair off as a dream, but if Noir had still been there just a few minutes ago, then it definitely hadn't been. She'd wandered away from camp, had a good talk with Ash, and then lived out one of her nightmares. And then Phoebe had thrown her sarong at her.

Misty watched Phoebe roll up her sleeping bag, cheeks plump with the resting smile that never seemed to leave her face. If Phoebe had woken so cheerily on the right side of the sleeping bag, who was Misty to sour it with bad news? What was there really to tell anyway? What would it accomplish? So she zipped her lip, zipped her sleeping bag, and began rolling it as well.

As they packed their paltry belongings, they talked over their next course of action. Phoebe's immediate goal was starting on some ghost missions. Misty's immediate goal was just getting back into town, preferably without having to go through the untamed jungle again.

Phoebe, of course, instantly came up with a solution.

"Drifblim," Phoebe proclaimed as she rooted through her PokéBalls. "He's a lot bigger than average and we can use him like a hot air balloon."

Misty didn't even try to keep the anger out of her voice. "And you didn't think to volunteer that idea yesterday on the way here?"

Phoebe, aloof as always, shrugged her shoulders as she opened the PokéBall. "Nope, didn't think of it yesterday. Plus, well, riding on Drifblim isn't exactly like a hot air balloon."

It didn't matter to Misty, because moments later, she was held snugly by one of Drifblim's ribbon-like arms, coiled around many times so that there was no way that she would slip out. Phoebe was similarly wrapped on the other side. Best of all, they were floating high above the jungle, and in the far, far distance, Misty could see society once again.

"Wait, where are we going?" Misty asked after a few minutes, having to shout so that her voice could be heard over the wind at that altitude. She had noticed that they were in no way getting closer to the city. In fact, they seemed to be drifting away from it.

"That's what I was kind of saying before. Drifblim can fly easily, but they can't steer."

Drifblim. Drift.

Misty groaned. "So you mean we're just going to float aimlessly until we decide to land and hope for the best?"

"What?"

Phoebe was cupping a hand to her ear and craning her neck in Misty's direction.

"How are you going to fix this?!" Misty shouted.

"I don't know. It's kind of nice up here, isn't it?"

"No! It's freezing!"

"Alright, alright. I have another idea."

Struggling, and having to let Drifblim dangerously loosen his grip around her, Phoebe began fiddling around, evidently looking for another PokéBall before releasing her second idea into the air.

Out came Dusknoir, in all his frightening glory, ready to save the day.

"Dusknoir, get behind Drifblim and steer, would you?"

He did so and instantly the four of them were back on course.

Misty relished the fact that she had to raise her voice just to be heard as she shouted, "And you couldn't think of that earlier either?"

"I have many thoughts, Misty! Not all of them are directed towards practicality."

Then Misty relished in the fact that anything she said quietly definitely couldn't be heard beyond her own two ears. "Yeah, no shit."

The moment they hit the ground—further out of town than Misty would have liked, but there were only so many conspicuous places to land an oversized, living Ghost balloon—Misty punched Phoebe in the shoulder. A light punch.

"Ow! What the heck was that for?"

Misty began ticking off her fingers. "Forcing us through the jungle when we could have flown above it the whole time, forcing me to sleep at the freezing, uncovered base of an active volcano, never telling me your plans, making snap judgments about me, interrupting me all the time, and always forcing me to do what you want." Misty nodded in satisfaction. "That about covers it."

Not to mention the fact that Phoebe had put her into a situation through which one of Misty's worst nightmares could manifest. But her list was sizeable enough as it was.

Phoebe's face reddened, as well it should. "Okay, fair enough. So we're good?"

Misty nodded again. "We're good."

"Great!" Phoebe exclaimed. "Man, I feel like we're bros, punching out our problems and then able to share a beer later like nothing happened. Can we chest bump?"

"No."

"Okay." Phoebe clapped her hands together. "Okay! So, yesterday was your lesson in empathy and today's lesson is in executing our craft."

"Wait, wait." Misty dug her heels in the ground before Phoebe could drag them forward—one of the reasons she had just gotten punched for. "I didn't need a lesson in empathy."

"You're right," Phoebe agreed, rousing a smug smile from Misty. "You needed a lesson in avoiding the self-fulfilling prophecy."

"What?"

"You let ghosts find you in their moments of desperation," Phoebe explained. "Maybe if you didn't avoid them and sought them out whenever you saw them you wouldn't have such bad experiences."

"Hey, I don't—"

Apparently, Phoebe was really looking forward to another punch, because she then interrupted Misty again. "You do. Believe me, the ghosts who have sought me out have all been tougher to handle than the ones yesterday that we sought out ourselves. So I get it, but trust me."

Misty did believe what Phoebe was saying. But just because Phoebe was right didn't mean Misty couldn't be too. She rolled up her sweater sleeves, revealing yellowing bruises.

"I was brutally attacked by some ghosts literally a week ago. I probably still have a concussion from them knocking me to the ground in the woods and trying to kill me."

Phoebe looked at Misty in surprise. "Then we probably shouldn't have been throwing you around in the air last night."

That muted Misty for a second. That was probably fair.

"But that's really gnarly, Misty," Phoebe said, gently taking a hold of Misty's forearm, running her fingers over the bruises. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Thanks," Misty said, taking her arm back and rolling up the sleeves.

"You know, I think it would be a good idea to reconcile with those ghosts."

"Are you serious?" Misty recoiled. "All I tell you is that they brutalized me, and you want me to extend an olive branch?"

Phoebe shrugged. "You don't have to tell me for me to know there's more to the story."

Misty shook her head, unable to believe this girl's nerve. "Well, lucky for me, that's unnecessary. We already have a mediator that's not you and we've already talked. I'm…on their case, so to speak."

"Oh!" Phoebe exclaimed with surprise. "Well, that's awesome! Add it to the list."

"I wasn't really looking for your help, but whatever," Misty mumbled.

"Anyway!" Phoebe continued, either ignoring or not hearing her—though Misty would have banked on the former. "Today, to build your confidence, we're going to do these missions and they'll be easy and we'll be fully successful."

Misty looked at Phoebe pointedly. "I've been successful before. I don't need to do this with you." Phoebe opened her mouth to speak again, but this time Misty took satisfaction in cutting her off. "But we agreed to do these 'missions' anyway, so let's go."

Phoebe looked very proud, wiping away a dramatic faux-tear. "My baby's all grown up."

"Whatever." Misty rolled her eyes, but it didn't cover the fond smile she was wearing. "Let's just go."

They decided to start with Phyllis. Her situation had been clear-cut and simple. Her granddaughter needed to know about her hidden will. Easy as pie.

Phyllis had already told them the exact address of her granddaughter's house, so all they needed was a map. Fortunately, being the tourist trap that Cinnabar was, there were tourist centers everywhere, each of which had a multitude of maps of each of the different districts, historical locations, and sights on the island.

"This must be the place," Misty stated, looking up at the bright pink building in front of her.

One thing that Misty was finding interesting about the island was how colorful the residential sector of it was. Where they had first docked on the island, everything was gray with concrete and mass-produced buildings that probably had been erected overnight when the tourism boom hit. But here, buildings had personality. All brightly colored, covering the whole spectrum of the rainbow. On Kanto's mainland, houses tended to be cookie-cutter, beige cement boxes.

"Yup," Phoebe agreed, double checking the number on the mailbox. "Let's go."

"Right." Misty nodded. "Wait, go where?"

Phoebe looked blankly at her. "Uh, to knock on the door?"

Misty shook her head. "Why would we do that?"

"To tell Phyllis's granddaughter about the will…"

"We can't do that!" Misty whisper-shouted, glancing about with sudden paranoia.

"Why not?"

"Look, we need to just write a note or, if that doesn't get the message across, we'll just sneak into the house and unearth the will ourselves so that it's easier for her to find."

Phoebe wrinkled her nose. "You want us to break and enter into the house?"

"Only if we have to," Misty insisted. "I've done it before."

Crossing her arms, Phoebe let no small amount of sarcasm into her voice as she said, "Oh, because that makes it okay."

"No, not okay, just…well practiced."

"Don't be silly. We're going to just tell her and then go on with our day."

Phoebe started for the door and Misty desperately grabbed at her wrist. "Stop!"

"What the hell, Misty?"

"How are you going to explain how you know all this?"

"I'm going to tell the truth," Phoebe responded easily, "and say her grandmother told us."

This time it was Misty's turn to look on blankly. "Her dead grandmother."

Phoebe shrugged. "I prefer recently departed."

"Potato, po-tah-to!" Misty cried, throwing her hands into the air. "She's going to think that we escaped from a mental institution!"

"Maybe. Probably not, though."

Misty looked on in disbelief. "What makes you think that?"

"Experience."

Misty's wariness showed on every tense muscle of her body. "What do you mean?"

Phoebe took Misty's hand, speaking with the same compassion she'd used with the ghosts the night before. "Let me show you."

Misty thought about it for half a second and then folded her arms. "Nope. Not gonna do it. You can do it and I'll watch."

"That's kind of what I was planning on anyway," Phoebe replied. "Just stand beside me and observe. No one will know we're colluding, I promise."

"No," Misty insisted. "I don't want to be seen anywhere near this. I'll watch, but I refuse to be anywhere around this mess."

Phoebe narrowed her eyes at Misty. "Okay, how do you presume you're going to do that?"

Misty glanced around, before her eyes fell on the side of the house. "I'll hide in the bushes."

For a second, Phoebe looked at Misty like she was crazy, which really Misty couldn't help but think was the pot calling the kettle black. But this time she was really going to put her foot down and not let Phoebe have her way.

"Fine. But I don't approve."

Misty nodded. "That's okay, because I don't approve of what you're doing either."

"Okay, well, when this works beautifully, then we can just do all of our other ghost tasks like this. Do you have any outstanding ghostie business that breaking and entering hasn't solved?"

Misty pursed her lips and looked dully at Phoebe. "No. Let's just see how this one goes before we start planning anything else."

Phoebe then gestured to the bushes right by the front door. "Be my guest."

Misty cringed. Usually, she did this kind of thing in the middle of the night when it wasn't so easy for people to see her. She took a cursory look around to ensure that no one was on the streets waiting to see her do something ridiculous, then she sprinted as fast as she could, ducking her head, and leapt into the bushes, trying not to shriek as she did so.

She was sure that Phoebe would be shaking her head at her, but Misty didn't bother to look, instead focusing on getting a good vantage point of the door that would leave her concealed from all angles. She could see Phoebe approaching the door, a grand smirk on her face as she knocked three times, like she wasn't about to claim to some random person that she had ghostly powers. Misty covered her face with her hands. How was this her life?

Suddenly a glowing Pikachu burst through the bushes and landed in Misty's lap, making her gasp as she caught him before he could rebound straight into the side of the house.

"Heya, Mist!"

Misty looked over her shoulder and saw Ash right behind her, also squatting in the bushes like he was hiding. Preposterous though that was.

"Why do you always have to sneak up on me?" she whispered, her voice high and squeaky and her eyes darting towards Phoebe.

"Well, there was no room in front of you, so of course we had to come this way," Ash answered, reaching around and taking Pikachu into his own lap, earning himself a dissatisfied mewl.

"Why are you here at all?"

Ash shrugged. "Got the feeling that this was the place to be. So why are we hiding in the bushes and what is Phoebe doing?"

"Phoebe's about to tell a random stranger that she has otherworldly powers. Otherwise known as: the usual."

"Oh. Sure," Ash said, sitting back, an easy grin on his face.

Misty rolled her eyes and turned back to the scene. Phoebe was now knocking a second time and Misty hoped and prayed that nobody was home. The car in the carport pointed towards the contrary, but Phoebe had been trying to implant all of these good feelings like hope into Misty, and so Misty hoped. Hard.

Unfortunately, this time the door swung open and Misty cowered back—even though she already knew that she couldn't be seen. She actually recoiled so much that she bumped right into Ash, squeaking a little as she did so. Immediately Misty covered her mouth, but she saw Phoebe's lip twitch, as though she was maybe trying to hold back a smile. Misty grit her teeth. Phoebe was enjoying every second of this.

Pikachu, who was now very squished between Ash and Misty, scampered up Misty's back and seated himself on Misty's shoulder, some of the branches sticking straight through his ears.

Misty could vaguely see the profile of a girl about her age with richly pigmented skin and shiny black hair. "Can I help you?" she asked Phoebe.

"Hi!" Misty heard Phoebe's voice sound cheerfully, raised either for Misty's benefit or because she usually talked loudly. Misty hedged her bet on the latter. "Would you happen to be Phyllis's granddaughter?"

Misty thought she could see a dark shadow cross the girl's eyes. "Yes, I am."

"Great!" Phoebe cheered. "My name's Phoebe. What's yours?

"Penny," the girl replied curtly.

"Nice to meet you!" Phoebe grinned. "I have a message from your grandmother."

Misty watched the scene with rapt attention, but she kept on being pulled every few seconds by a little tickle on her arm. "Ash, scoot back. Your shirt keeps on brushing me and it's skeeving me out."

"A message. From my grandmother," Penny deadpanned, her words flat instead of rising as true questions.

"Misty. I'm, like, a mile behind you."

"Pikachu, is it your tail?"

"Chaa."

Misty didn't have any understanding of Pikachu's language yet, but she could recognize a basic tone of dissention when she heard one.

"So, then…"

"Yes, I spoke to her last night, and she told me where her missing will is," Phoebe continued, either oblivious of the situation in the bushes or candidly ignoring it.

Misty was listening to the conversation with one ear, but the other half of her mind was suddenly screaming at her, specifically from the direction of the bushes. More than half, really, as the panic from the night before began to flood her system anew. She looked down and there, poking out of the bushes, was a Weedle, nuzzling her arm.

In gushed a huge gasp of air and, before it could release as the most earsplitting scream of Misty's life, Ash grabbed her mouth and pulled her back. "Pikachu, Thundershock!"

Pikachu jumped from Misty's shoulder into the air, if for no other reason than to ensure that Misty didn't get caught in the Attack, and discharged a small bolt of electricity, hitting the Weedle and causing its eyes to bulge in confusion before it rolled into a spiral and fell back into the bushes.

At that point, Misty brought her auditory awareness back to the conversation at the door and heard Penny saying, "…You do realize my grandmother's—"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Phoebe cut her off, her voice unnaturally loud at this point. Out of the corner of her eye, Misty saw Phoebe sidestep just a tad so that she was drawing Penny's view away from the bushes. "I'm Ghost Master Phoebe of the Hoenn Elite Four. I spoke to your grandmother yesterday using my special connection to ghosts."

Misty, meanwhile, was breathing heavily into Ash's hand, a scream still lodged in her throat as she felt the sticky pads from that Weedle's suction cup-like feet still traipsing over her arm. Pikachu was sniffing out the bushes to see if the Weedle was still there, but it must have scurried further out into the yard, because eventually Pikachu sat back and began licking contentedly at his stomach.

"Special connection to ghosts?" Penny echoed, her disbelief hanging heavy on each word.

"Yes. I can see spirits that have yet to move on to the next stage. Your grandmother is one of those, because she wanted to tell you something. Understand?"

Penny crossed her arms. "Yes and no. But go on."

Eventually Misty's breathing calmed down and Ash loosened his grip on her, allowing her to scoot away. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Of course not," Misty heaved. "That was disgusting."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, the poor Weedle never saw it coming."

"Don't say 'poor' Weedle," Misty spat.

"Your grandmother's will," Misty, turning her back to Ash as a means of rebellion, heard Phoebe continue, "is behind a fake wall in the second drawer of the desk in your grandfather's study. Even if you don't believe me, it can't hurt to look, right?"

"…I guess not," Penny replied.

Misty noted Penny's arms were by her sides now, looking less defensive, though her face was still lined with skepticism. Of course, Misty couldn't blame her for that. If Misty had been in her position, Phoebe would be getting threatened by her Gyarados right now.

"Okay, well, that's all I needed to tell you," Phoebe said. "It was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Penny echoed, bewilderment coloring her voice.

Phoebe thusly trotted off the front stoop and Misty waited to see the door close and hear it latch on the other side. Maybe she should wait in the bushes just a moment longer to make sure that Penny wouldn't see—

"Alright, come on out, jackasses!"

Misty sweatdropped as she stood up, wiping off the mulch that was clinging to her bare legs. Ash, too, stood up, Pikachu back rightfully on his shoulder again. Misty darted out of the bushes as fast as she could—both to avoid anyone spotting her in a compromising position, but also to outrun any more Weedle that were nesting in there.

When she made it back to the street, Ash and Pikachu in tow, Phoebe turned to them, wry amusement on her face. "You're lucky that girl was so confounded by everything I was saying. If she'd had one more wit about her, she would have arrested you for trespassing and manipulating electricity through inexplicable means."

"Well, in all fairness, I don't think that last one is a crime," Misty weakly defended herself.

"So, admit it," Phoebe said triumphantly. "I was very successful. And no breaking and entering needed. Thankfully, because apparently you aren't as good at sneaking as you were bragging to be."

"Okay, breaking and entering wasn't my first plan. It was my second. And besides," Misty turned to Ash and Pikachu, who were wisely standing a little behind her, "if I hadn't been dealing with these two clowns, things would have been fine."

"Uh, actually, Mist, that Weedle would have been there either way. So really," he had the audacity to smirk as he pet Pikachu's head, "we saved the day."

Phoebe interrupted before Misty could lash back. "Anyways, no one's hurt. No one's being shipped to a mental hospital. And that only took, like, five minutes."

Misty couldn't believe that she was about to admit defeat, but the words came tumbling out all at once before she could stop them. "Okay, it worked. And it was easy."

Actually, when she thought about it, the interaction reminded Misty a bit of when she'd mediated Ash's meeting with his Pokémon. Like Penny, Ash's Pokémon had come from a position of not knowing. Zero knowledge, zero expectations. But she'd believed in them, and it had led to something really wholesome. For everyone.

"And all it took was a willingness to tell the truth. Something I bet you don't rely on as much as you should."

"Yeah, what is this about you and the truth, Misty?"

Misty turned red, not enjoying being ganged up on. Maybe this was why she had always kept away from social situations in the past. So she decided to continue with that obviously correct attitude and grabbed Pikachu off of Ash's shoulder.

"Come on, Pikachu. Let's go."

"Pikachupi!" Pikachu cheered, sitting happily in her arms.

"Hey! Pikachu!"

"Actually, Misty," Phoebe called back, not even bothering to follow after her. "Don't you think it's time we found a hotel?"

Misty's ears perked up at that. "A hotel?"

"Sure! No sleeping under the cover of stars tonight!"

Misty sighed. "Thank God."

"Okay, then it's settled. Mission number two is nabbing a hotel and mission number three is ordering our weight in room service."

Misty turned to Phoebe as she absently scratched at Pikachu's cheek, thinking for the first time that maybe this girl truly got her. "Room service?"

Phoebe held up a credit card. "I'll pay."

Misty grinned. "Sold!"

While Phoebe pulled some strings to secure Misty and herself a room on short notice from one of Cinnabar's ultra-packed hotels, Misty stood around in the lobby alone. Ash and Pikachu had left, Ash stating that being around food and not being able to eat it would be too much emotional distress for them to handle.

It only took a moment for Misty to spot the line of phones on the lobby floor and to make a beeline for them. She wasn't used to having to put so much effort into reaching out to people, but she realized belatedly that she probably owed both Brock and her sisters a phone call. But, since the idea of room service was still making her mouth water, she decided both calls would be brief.

She called Brock first, and relayed all she could about Phoebe—which earned a great many gasps from Brock—and remembered that she had to summarize the affairs with Molly and Professor Oak as well.

"So, this Molly," Brock said at the end of the short version, which Misty had promised to expand upon later, "how old would you say she is?"

Misty groaned. "Too young for you, Brock."

Brock shook his head and snapped his fingers. "Man, so close. But everything's going well?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," Misty said. "But, you know, I just didn't realize how dangerous going on a journey can be."

"More murderous ghosts?" Brock asked. "I don't think that's something the average ten-year-old usually has to worry about."

"No, not just that," Misty said. "More nice ones, actually. Strangely. But no, just other dangers. Like the elements and wild Pokémon and stuff."

Misty was still hung up on her encounter with those aggressive Bug Pokémon from the night before. She had probably never felt so unsafe in her whole life. Even compared to that sudden fire, which was still on her mind.

"That's weird," Brock said. "When Forrest traveled through Kanto, he commented on how well-prepared and safe he felt."

"Well, maybe a strange veil of beginner's luck protects you when you're ten," Misty supposed. "But I'd think traveling with an Elite should ward off most of the bad things that could happen to me."

"Yeah," Brock said. "So, tell me, does Phoebe wear a bikini all the—"

"Sorry, Brock. Have to call my sisters now."

Misty grinned and wriggled her fingers at him as she clicked the screen off and dialed her sisters.

The update Misty spelled out for her sisters was far shorter than the one she'd given Brock. She told them she was in Cinnabar, traveling with a new friend—they, of course, had immediately asked if it was a boy and she was quick to squash that dream—and that her current plan was to stick around for a while as a vacation.

By the time Misty was done with all that, Phoebe skipped over, holding two room keys in her hands.

"Rest and relaxation, anyone?"

The second they stepped into the master suite Phoebe had procured, Misty was in awe. The room was donned in rich reds and golds and had a plush, cream carpet that Misty sunk her toes into as soon as she kicked off her shoes. The bathroom had shades of royal purple and lavender, which wasn't Misty's favorite, but it did suggest opulence. The one downside was that there was only one bed, but it was a huge, king-sized bed, so Misty was guaranteed a better night's sleep than she'd been getting in the wilderness. She hadn't slept in a bed since Viridian, after all.

Lastly, true to Phoebe's word, there was a delightful menu of room service items on the glass, fingerprintless coffee table that they were both quick to peruse. They made a detailed list and Phoebe called down to the kitchen to order, leaving Misty to remember one more friend that she had to call.

It had worked yesterday, her mind screaming as loud as it ever had for Noir to come and save her. But it hadn't worked the first time she'd tried calling. More importantly, food was to be eaten, and Noir would want to be here for that. That was more than enough reason to practice her newfound skill, and see if it could work when she wasn't under duress. She closed her eyes and imagined Noir amongst the luxuries of the posh hotel room. Floating right in front of her, looking starkly macabre against the royal background.

With an extra squeeze of effort, Misty exhaled, opening her eyes and, to her surprise, Noir was right in front of her, bemusement twisting her face.

"It worked!" Misty breathed. Maybe she had this down after all.

Phoebe turned over interestedly after making the order to the kitchen. "Did you call her?"

Misty grinned. "Sure did!"

"There you go—I knew you could do it!"

As Noir eyed the posh room uncertainly, Misty had an idea for what could win her over. "Phoebe, order Noir a special serving of maple syrup while you're at it."

"You got it!"

Misty took Noir by the hands and sat down on the floor across from her. "We never got the chance to talk yesterday, so, how does it feel? Could you sense me calling you and then you transported here? Or did you feel called to this room? Tell me everything!"

From what Misty could gather, it felt like a telepathic connection, where Noir could hear Misty calling her. And then she could travel through third plane to get to the source of the message. Misty nodded along and said that they would have to keep trying it.

Not twenty minutes later, there were platters upon platters of food haphazardly arranged along the room's coffee table so that everything just barely fit with edges hanging off the side. Misty and Phoebe sat on the floor, tucking into whatever they could get their hands on. Noir had settled herself a little ways away from the chaos with a bowl of syrup and was entertaining herself by sticking a sticky paw straight into her mouth—without opening it—and then pulling it out clean.

"You know," Phoebe said through a mouthful of food, "I never would have thought that you could put cream cheese on pasta, but this is surprisingly good."

Misty shook her head. "You have chocolate crêpes literally right in front of you and yet you're putting cream cheese on pasta." She was also speaking with her mouth full, unfortunately losing a couple of precious chocolaty crumbs in the process.

Phoebe licked the back of her spoon. "What can I say? I like cheese!"

"Me too. But…still."

Misty thought about going on a rant about the sacredness of cheese and how overuse and misuse were just as bad as under-appreciation, but a fingerful of whipped cream was enough to assuage her for the time being. Especially if she could get some ice cream up here…

"I've been wondering," Phoebe began as she dropped a whole strawberry into her mouth and moaned at the rich sweetness and acidity, "why do you want to keep your Connection a secret?"

After trying to answer and finding nothing but sugar-induced phlegm in her throat, Misty gulped some water and began again. "My connection?"

"You know, your ability to see ghosts." Phoebe swallowed loudly. "I call it the Connection."

"Oh, alright. Sure. The Connection," Misty agreed. "I told you before: I don't want people to think that I'm crazy."

"Penny didn't think I was crazy, did she?" Phoebe took advantage of Misty's evident distraction at that answer and hijacked some whipped cream for her next strawberry.

"Uh, actually she was definitely looking at you like there were some eggs missing from your basket," Misty informed her, only glaring for a second at the theft.

"Okay, different maybe. But not crazy. So there has to be more to it than that."

"You're right, there is more to it," Misty agreed as she licked her fingers before she began enumerating them. "Maybe people don't think you're crazy, but maybe they do, and there's no controlling who thinks what about you once the secret's out. It has every opportunity to make a mess out of your life, turn you into a reality TV show, and ruin everything more than it already does."

Misty heard a muffled chirp of assent from Noir.

"Wow," Phoebe exclaimed, though it was really more of a sound than a word through the kabob that she had torn off the stick in one bite. She struggled for a few moments before swallowing. "You have a really negative opinion about this thing." She turned to Noir. "Both of you."

Misty threw Phoebe a pair of very dead eyes and went on to take a forkful of fish. "That's because it is a really negative thing."

"No, it's not!" Phoebe was waving her bare stick in the air. "Think of the good that we've already done today! Besides, it has given me such a deeper relationship—or connection—with my Pokémon. Think of you and Noir! And, despite what you say, no one has given me crap for it. Do you know me from a reality show? No. You know me from the Elite Four."

"You mean, people publicly know about your Connection? Not just the occasional Penny that you talk to for a minute?"

Phoebe only nodded as she finished off her water. "I don't see any reason to hide it."

Slowing down and only taking bites of her food instead of shoveling them in whole, Misty pondered that. "It's probably because you specialize in Ghost Types. And you're an Elite, so how could anyone question you?"

"Well, you're a Gym Leader," Phoebe reasoned as she got up to refill her water at the sink.

"Yes, but I became a Gym Leader when I was ten. Twelve, technically. I don't think that people would have believed me just because I was a Gym Leader."

The faucet began to run. "You've had the Connection since you were ten?"

"No. Since, well, since I can remember, really."

Misty looked up as she heard Phoebe's glass clatter into the sink. "Whoa, hold the phone! Like, since you were born?"

Brow crinkling in confusion, Misty gave a noncommittal shrug. "I've never known for sure. There was definitely a period where I didn't know what I was seeing, and so I don't know if I could always see them and just didn't know, or if I developed it when I was younger. Is that weird?"

Phoebe refilled her water and rejoined Misty on the floor. "Not weird, just different. I've only had it for eight years—since I was fourteen."

"You're twenty-two?" Misty couldn't help but ask in surprise.

Phoebe laughed, the sound going up the scale in pitch until it ended in a cute squeak that she covered with her hand. "I get that a lot. I'm just really short and have kind of a baby face. I thought that the pixie cut would help, but I guess there's just no saving me."

Misty could also have taken that moment to say that Phoebe's personality tended to emulate someone younger…but since Phoebe had been the one to buy all of the food that was currently sitting in Misty and Noir's stomachs, she decided to keep her trap shut.

Instead, Misty laughed along, eventually bringing the subject at hand back around by saying, "So you remember when and how you gained the Connection?"

Phoebe sipped at her water, having slowed down as well. "Yes and no. Yes in that I remember the before and after, and no in that I was definitely unconscious when the…switch, I guess, was made."

"What do you mean?"

Since Misty had never known that anyone else had the Connection, she'd never considered that there might be a universal way in which someone was imbued with this power. That maybe something had happened to her that had also happened to other people. But suddenly it occurred to her that that could be the whole trick. That the answer to her past lay in Phoebe's.

"I mean that—" Phoebe began, grabbing the bowl of strawberries and setting it beside her as she leaned back against the sofa, away from the coffee table, getting herself comfortable before launching into her story, "well, I guess I should just tell you the whole tale. But I warn you, it's not a happy story. Like I said, I was fourteen. Me and my little sister were traveling up Mr. Pyre to visit my grandparents."

"Mt. Pyre?" Misty interrupted, the name causing uninvited shivers to course through her. Old ghost stories from her childhood drifted back up at her. "Isn't that dangerous?"

Phoebe gave Misty an exacerbated look. "Well, you'll find out if you just listen to the story, won't you? But, since you interrupted, now I'm going to start over. It's okay, though, because I just thought of a better way to tell it." Phoebe cleared her throat and began again: "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Lana, ten years of age, traveling with her sister, Phoebe, who was four years her senior. The two wayfaring girls were on a trip to visit their grandparents, who resided atop a high summit called Mt. Pyre in the faraway land of Hoenn."

Misty rolled her eyes. "I think that you should be holding a flashlight under your chin or something."

With a wink, Phoebe said, "Maybe next time. Anyways," she lowered her voice, "this mountain was the second tallest peak in all of Hoenn, rarely traversed. The grandparents were the lone souls living on this Mt. Pyre, save for wild Pokémon and the souls of the departed, for Mt. Pyre was the sole location in Hoenn at which wandering souls found peace.

"Lana and Phoebe had made this journey many times before, but this particular outing was only the second or third time without the watchful guidance of their parents. However, they had no reason to be afraid, simply because they never had been before. They hiked up the exterior of the mountain, knowing better than to take chances in any of the caves where the darkness ate everything. They thrilled in the adventure of scaling the rocky terrain, hopping from boulder to boulder alongside their wild Pokémon companions, taking breaths only upon the flat, grassy sections they came across."

Misty noticed that Phoebe's blue eyes had grown misty as though with reminiscence through the retelling. But suddenly they lost all mirth. All of the sparkling, child-like light that had been in them since the moment Misty met her was gone.

"Then, all at once, things went terribly, terribly wrong. Phoebe knew that on that mountain, all it took was one wrong step, and then the whole world would come crashing down. Lana knew it too, but Lana was young and sometimes just a little too quick and eager to catch sight of everything before it was right in front of her. One wrong step. One wrong step and she went tumbling down. And since she had been just in front of Phoebe, Phoebe lost purchase as well and down they both went. However, Phoebe was knocked to the side, hitting the rocks hard, but only a few feet down. It could have been a fatal fall nonetheless, but luck or fate seemed to be on her side. But young Lana didn't stand a chance as her tiny body fell and fell, beating against a few rocks before it landed hard and broken on a perfect grassy spot.

"I woke up a few minutes later, I guess," Phoebe continued, her voice now devoid of all theatrics. And even though her voice wasn't wavering, her eyes were full to the brim with unshed tears. "I had the most unreal headache, and my bones were bruised at every point that they had hit the rocks. Basically, my whole back-side. I definitely had a concussion, and despite the utter throbbing of my brain, my mind immediately went to my sister. I didn't remember what had happened, but the fact that she wasn't right next to me, and I was flat on my back instantly made my stomach drop so low that I could have thrown up right then. But by then, all I could do was look over the ledge and see her there."

For the first time, Phoebe took a pause, steadying her breath and blinking a few times. Misty reached a hand across the table. "Hey, you don't have to finish the story if you don't want—"

"No, it's totally fine," Phoebe interjected, surprising Misty by actually sounding totally fine. Perhaps a little sniffly, but some of that pep that she usually had colored back into her voice. "Anyways, maybe I was leaning over a little too far, so then I felt something pulling me back away from the cliff. I found myself face to face with a Dusknoir, who was gently pulling me from the edge, I guess so I wouldn't meet the same fate as Lana. It picked me up and carried me down to where she was, placing me gently beside her. Then it vanished, but only for a moment. And when it came back, Lana was beside it, looking as she had looked before—if also very confused—save for this subtle glow around her. And the fact that her body was still at our feet.

"She freaked out there for a minute, and I guess I kind of did too. And since then, I've always been able to see ghosts. And I've loved Ghost Types. You would not believe the group of Ghosts that I met that day and that now always greet me when I go up and down the mountain."

By this point, Phoebe was smiling fondly, like it was all some big, happy memory. But it was obvious to Misty that she was just thankful. Probably that she could still be with her sister. Just like Misty was thankful beyond all else that she could still talk with her mother. That was enough to make Misty smile too and wipe away the tears that she didn't know had been forming on her lower lashes.

"Wow, Phoebe," was all she could say at the end of it. "I can't believe you went through that."

Phoebe laughed a little. "I can't believe Lana went through that. My part was a piece of cake. She's the one wandering the afterlife and haunting my room at the League."

Misty almost laughed as well, but it didn't quite make it past her throat. "So is that Dusknoir the same one that you have?"

Phoebe grinned. "He sure is! How could I let that big teddy bear go after he did so much for me?"

"Oh," Misty said before flushing at a memory and dropping her gaze to the comforting view of the leftover food on the table. "You know, I always thought that Duskull and Dusclops from Mt. Pyre were evil."

That idea was enough to break any of the seriousness lingering in the room as Phoebe broke into hysterics. Like it was the best joke she had ever heard. "What? Why the heck would you think that?"

Misty shrugged, now feeling even more embarrassed. "It was some dumb story that my sisters told me when I was a kid…it really stuck with me, I guess."

"Well, they're not." Phoebe clapped her hands together. "If anything is the moral of my story, it's that one wrong step is all it takes for the world to fall apart. But if there's one other moral—one that I personally like better, if you ask me—it's that Ghosts are a beautiful part of Mt. Pyre. Boulders on the other hand," Phoebe shook her head vigorously, "not good."

Misty nodded along. "Duly noted."

"Well," Phoebe grunted as she pushed herself away from the sofa, "that's my story."

"Quite a story." Misty chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking about it and how different it was from Misty's own story. From all of her stories, really. And it left one idea tasting kind of sour on her tongue. "I have to ask, though. How are you so okay with telling it so…candidly?"

Surpassing Misty's expectations, as was growing increasingly usual, Phoebe grinned, so hard that she was thrusting her chin out. "Well, aside from the fact that Lana is not dead to me, she and I have come to a gentlewoman's agreement." Phoebe stuck her index finger into the air. "I live for the both of us. So, I don't allow myself to get down. Life is the best and I get to do it, so I revel in it!"

Misty couldn't help but figure that that kind of attitude was what had led Phoebe to be able to become a Master at such a young age. And why she seemed so fun-loving and frivolous when she wasn't really; she was much deeper than she seemed. But despite what Phoebe said, Misty knew that this was the true moral of the story.

And hopefully one that Misty would be able to take with her. She began that hope with a genuine smile, pulling from her mouth all the way up to her green eyes and looked over to Noir, wondering if she would agree with the sentiment. "I think that's a really great way to live."

Phoebe hummed her agreement as she dropped another strawberry in her mouth. Then Misty saw the moment where all of the sparkle returned to Phoebe's eyes, now with an added mischievous glint.

"So…Dinner?"

A/N: Ah, the mention of the buildings on the island being colorful is kind of pointless, but I know I must have written that based on a trip to Bermuda that, at that time, had been somewhat recent. Gorgeous houses. American HOAs can get lost.

Honestly, the way I chose OC names back when I wrote this is humiliating. They would just come to me from the heavens, and I'd give them to the character with no regard for culture or era or meaning or anything. I renamed a couple later OCs, but these ones, woof, I didn't have the heart or patience to change them but geez. Remember when reading fanfic that sometimes people don't know what they don't know. It never occurred to me that there were better ways of choosing names. Lots of things never occur to people to research. We also get some of what I'd call a thesis statement for Misty in this chap, and gosh, I had to rewrite that. It shows that I didn't really think through characterization much and also just let it come from the heavens. Hopefully I managed to improve it a bit.

Seriously, tho, the Weedle thing is probably the funniest thing I've written in my life. I laugh every time. Hope it tickled you like it tickled me and Misty XD I clown on this fic all the time, but it has some gems.