An: I'm back baby who missed me? yea I have a few more of these already written in the back but as of now we are still in this god damn city. so bare with me trust and believe I'm doing my best to make these all advance the plot in some form.

Restless Slumber

Journal Entry: Thoughts 1

The professor suggested I start a journal, though I'm not sure how much I need one. My memory—what I have of it—functions at a level I'd describe as near-photographic. Still, I can't deny the utility of organizing my thoughts and recording what I learn, especially about Pokémon and this world. So, here I am, writing what might become a record of both discovery and survival.

It's been a week since I started working here, and progress has been steady. The technology is nothing short of astounding—futuristic, yet intuitive enough for me to grasp. It's a blend of wonder and practicality, sparking quiet awe with every new device or system I encounter. That awe, however, has been dulled somewhat by my growing sleep deprivation. The solution to that problem, of course, lies in the one universal constant across dimensions: coffee. Strong, black, and untainted by cream or sugar, it's become my lifeline, keeping my thoughts sharp and my body moving when exhaustion threatens to take over.

My routine has quickly settled into a predictable rhythm. I wake early—far earlier than most of the lab's residents—and spend the first hours of my day with Luna. She seems to share my preference for the quiet stillness of the early morning. Old habits die hard, I suppose, and for both of us, those hours have become a comforting ritual. After breakfast, it's straight to work.

The work itself is fascinating, demanding, and all-consuming. I often lose track of time, which seems to be a shared trait between myself and Professor Sycamore. Lunch has become more of an afterthought for both of us, though we've developed an unspoken tradition of skipping it entirely in favor of continuing our research. Sycamore's dedication is remarkable, but it's also a bit concerning; the man regularly works himself to the point of collapse. Most nights, he's out cold at his desk by 10 PM.

After work, my evenings are split between practical tasks and personal study. A quick shower, a decent dinner, and hours of reading or experimenting until I inevitably fall asleep. On average, I'm running on four hours of sleep a night. It's not ideal, but it's enough—for now.

Luna has adjusted well to her new environment, and I've done my best to make it comfortable for her. I avoid using my abilities to read her emotions unless absolutely necessary; it feels like an invasion of her privacy. She has her own space to sleep, which is a relief. As much as I've grown accustomed to her presence, she is, after all, a woman, and privacy is something she deserves.

Food has been another matter entirely. On the first day, I had a rather... spirited discussion with the professor about her meals. He'd been feeding her what I can only describe as glorified kibble, though he assured me it was specially formulated for high-energy steel-types like her. While I appreciated his explanation, I made it clear that Luna's meals were now my responsibility.

Since then, I've taken to venturing into the wilds after work to gather food and berries until my first paycheck comes through. The professor kindly gave me permission to store my supplies and use the lab's kitchen, which has been a game-changer. Cooking with proper ingredients and seasonings again has been a joy, one I didn't realize I missed so much. Luna's reaction to my cooking has been all the reward I need; the way her ears twitch in delight and the contented look on her face when she finishes a meal is priceless. Even Sycamore has been unable to hide his envy—I caught him drooling while Luna polished off some venison I prepared.

Beyond my work and Luna's well-being, there's another matter I've been quietly investigating. A certain trouble magnet.

Yes, I'm talking about Ash Ketchum.

Just like in the show, he's a walking disaster zone, and it seems that hasn't changed in this world. Reviewing the records of his escapades has been... enlightening, though not in the way I'd hoped. My memory, as sharp as it is, has turned into something of a curse in this case. Every mistake, every wasted opportunity, every legendary Pokémon he let slip through his fingers—it's all burned into my mind. The sheer waste of potential is maddening.

At present, he's in Unova, where his infamous League performance is set to unfold. Losing to a trainer with only five Pokémon, armed with a team that includes just four fully evolved Pokémon—one of which is Charizard—is an infuriating inevitability. The sheer mediocrity of it all is hard to stomach.

Thankfully, he won't be in Kalos for a while yet. The Lumiose Conference isn't until May, and we're only in mid-November. That gives me some breathing room. Still, wherever Ash goes, chaos follows, and I have no doubt that his eventual arrival here will bring its share of problems.

For now, though, my focus remains on Luna and my work. There's so much to learn, so much to accomplish. And as for Ash? I'll deal with him when the time comes.

. . .

Luna's POV

As I shifted uncomfortably in my den, I arrived at an undeniable truth: sleep had once again eluded me. For over a week now, this maddening restlessness had been my nightly companion. The frustration was unbearable. I'd endured harsher nights before, nights when the cold earth was my bed, the wind my blanket, and uncertainty my pillow. Yet even then, I managed to find rest.

During those long nights in the wild with Jackson, when the chill cut through the air and silence blanketed the forest, his presence alone was enough to anchor me. The rhythm of his breathing, the steady warmth of his aura—those were constants, comforts I hadn't realized I'd grown so accustomed to. But now, in this strange, sterile sanctuary, sleep refused to come.

Each time I closed my eyes, something stirred—a vague, intangible sensation I couldn't name. It was neither physical nor emotional, yet it gnawed at the edges of my awareness, keeping me tethered to wakefulness. What was it? Why now? No matter how hard I tried, the answers danced just beyond my grasp.

Giving up, I slipped from my den and stretched, my limbs feeling heavy with the weight of another sleepless night. The lab was quiet, bathed in the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the transparent ceiling. I paused, staring up at the sky above. The barrier was still a marvel to me. How could something so clear and solid exist without radiating energy? It was just one of many mysteries this place held, but tonight, I didn't have the energy to ponder it.

My gaze shifted to the moon, its pale light casting long shadows across the room. It seemed to watch me, silent and distant, and my thoughts inevitably turned to Jackson.

Mornings had become the only time I truly had with him, and even those hours felt fleeting. When we'd lived side by side in the wild, every moment was shared—every hunt, every meal, every step. Now, our time together was reduced to mere fragments of the day, stolen before his work demanded his attention. The emptiness his absence left behind was… difficult to ignore.

I hated how selfish that sounded. His work was important, and though I didn't fully understand it, I knew it required his focus. Besides, he was still learning, navigating a world of unfamiliar technology and practices. Asking him to share more of his time, to involve me in something I couldn't hope to understand, would only burden him.

Still, I couldn't help but long for those quiet moments we used to share. The Pokémon here offered little distraction. Most were young, cared for by the lab staff, while the few older ones preferred solitude, waiting patiently for their trainers to summon them. I was grateful Jackson would never subject me to that fate—sitting idle, wondering when or if I'd be called upon again.

Would he?

The thought crept in unbidden, and I tried to shove it aside. Jackson wasn't like that. He wouldn't abandon me.

Would he?

The doubt lingered, whispering in the back of my mind, even as I turned my thoughts elsewhere.

His aura training had come a long way. What once seemed clumsy and fragmented had become surprisingly precise—at least with me. He could now interpret my emotions and intentions with impressive clarity, even if other Pokémon remained a challenge. He still struggled with certain nuances, like the occasional mention of my species when he reached too far, but his progress was undeniable.

I should have been proud of him, but my mind kept returning to the day he spoke with the professor. I could still feel the echo of his emotions: confusion, fear, and a hollow sadness that had taken root deep within him. He hadn't been lying—not entirely. But there were half-truths woven into his words, things he was keeping hidden.

That didn't bother me. We all have our secrets, myself included. What troubled me was what he hadn't lied about: his admission that he had no family here, no place to call home.

He was alone.

I wanted to ask him about it, to offer some kind of comfort, but I didn't know how. A month ago, it would have been easy. Back then, I wouldn't have hesitated to press him, to demand answers. But now… now, I couldn't bear the thought of reopening wounds that might never fully heal.

As I sat beneath the moon's pale gaze, a thought struck me. 'I wonder what he's doing right now.'

It was foolish, I knew. He was probably asleep, as any sensible person would be at this hour. Unlike me, Jackson always seemed ready for the day each morning, sipping that dark, aromatic drink he loved so much. I envied his energy, his ability to wake up with purpose while I stumbled through the mornings on the verge of collapse, relying on aura just to stay upright.

But the thought lingered, enticing and persistent. What harm would there be in checking on him? Just a quick glance. It's my duty as his partner to ensure he's alright, I told myself.

The logic was flimsy, and I knew it. Still, the idea refused to let go. I was awake, after all, and sleep seemed determined to elude me. What harm could it do to see him, even for a moment?

I left the section of the lab designated for Pokémon and began my quiet trek to Jackson's room. My pawsteps were silent on the cold, smooth surface the humans called "tile." I vaguely recalled a human female, Sophie—yes, that was her name—mentioning it in passing.

The hallway was cloaked in shadow, but my night vision painted a clear picture. Each door I passed bore a plaque, some etched with numbers, others with letters. I couldn't decipher their meanings, but I didn't need to. Jack's aura was my guide, its unmistakable violet glow standing out like a beacon amidst the dim embers of blue that surrounded it.

There was a tranquility to his aura tonight, a peaceful flicker that drew me in, almost hypnotic in its rhythm. Yet it was also this peace that gave me pause. The lights under his door cast a soft, luminous glow onto the tile—a small contradiction to the calm emanating from him. Odd. Perhaps he had forgotten to turn them off?

I gently pushed the door open, expecting to find him asleep. Instead, I was met with a pair of piercing amethyst eyes, wide and awake, staring directly at me from the desk.

Instinctively, I surveyed the room, taking in the details of his personal space. It was simple, almost spartan. A lone window was obscured by charcoal-gray drapes, matching the dark sheets on the bed. A small bedside table held a lamp and the stone he had been gifted. Nearby, a tall bookshelf lined with an assortment of tomes dominated one wall, its contents neatly arranged but well-worn.

The desk where Jackson sat was cluttered with open books and scattered papers, their edges curling slightly from overuse. A sleek black rectangle—his laptop—glowed faintly, its screen filled with text I couldn't begin to comprehend.

"Good evening, Luna," he greeted me, his baritone voice cutting through the quiet. It lacked its usual warmth, instead carrying a formal edge, as though he were only half-aware of what he was saying.

I studied him closely, and concern stirred within me. His complexion, typically a warm brown, was pale and drawn. Dark shadows clung beneath his eyes, stark against his lighter skin, and his hair was a disheveled mess. His eyes, though sharp as ever, drooped at the corners, betraying his exhaustion.

"You look terrible," I said bluntly, and he chuckled—dry, humorless. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," he replied, his lips curling into a tired smirk. "What brings you here at this hour?"

I hesitated, struggling to find a proper answer. Before I could stammer out an excuse, he waved me in. "Don't just stand there. Come in."

Lowering my ears, I stepped into the room, feeling like a child caught sneaking into a forbidden place. Would he reprimand me? Visiting his room at this hour was surely a breach of the professor's rules. I had my own space, after all. My presence here could easily be misinterpreted.

To my surprise, instead of scolding me, Jackson tilted his head curiously. "Having trouble sleeping?" he asked, his tone light but genuinely concerned.

I blinked, caught off guard by his perceptiveness. Making my way to his side, I peered at the desk, taking in the open books and the glowing screen displaying rows of words.

"Yes, I am… and have been for the past week," I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. The confession seemed to strike a chord with Jackson; his eyes widened for just a fraction of a second before he schooled his expression back to neutral.

"Really now?" he asked, his tone casual but tinged with curiosity. "What's wrong?"

The question was innocent enough, but I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious. I knew him almost as well as I knew myself—secrets notwithstanding—and I could tell when he was fishing for something. Still, I chose to answer.

"I don't know exactly," I started, my words slow and deliberate as I tried to articulate the elusive sensation. "The feeling is difficult to place. Every time I close my eyes and steady my breathing, sleep feels like it's just on the edges of my consciousness. But as it draws closer, something always happens. Something feels… off. Almost like something is miss—"

"Missing?" he interjected, finishing my thought with startling precision. His voice carried a certainty that made me pause. "You feel cold, like there's a warmth that's just… absent. Your breathing feels out of sync, like it's slightly off rhythm. Or maybe, when you listen to your heartbeat, it doesn't feel quite right—like the cadence is wrong."

I stared at him, momentarily speechless. He had described it perfectly, capturing every fleeting sensation that had eluded me for days. "Yes," I finally breathed. "That's exactly it. How did you know?"

His lips curved into a sad smile as he stood, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. With a quiet pat on the mattress, he invited me to join him.

I hesitated briefly before accepting, sinking into the soft bedding. The plush surface was still unfamiliar to me, and I nearly stumbled as I adjusted, earning a faint chuckle from him.

"I've gone through it before," he admitted, leaning back slightly. "I found a workaround, but…" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It came back recently. I haven't been getting much sleep this past week either."

"Really?" I asked, tilting my head. The revelation caught me off guard. If he had experienced the same issue, perhaps his solution could be refined. "What caused it? And what was your workaround?"

He exhaled deeply, as though bracing himself for something mildly embarrassing. "It's… the result of getting used to sleeping next to someone, then suddenly sleeping alone again."

I blinked, my ears flicking as his words registered. That was it? I had grown so used to sleeping at his side that being apart disrupted my rhythm?

Unable to help myself, I asked, "So, how do you stop it?"

"Well," he began, his tone measured, "you can just push through it. Sleep on your own, and eventually, your body will adapt. But…"

I caught the hesitation in his voice and pressed. "But what?"

His gaze shifted away from mine, embarrassment creeping into his features as he scratched at the back of his neck. "But… it usually takes a while. Like, a couple of weeks—if we're lucky."

Weeks? The thought horrified me. A few more days of this sleepless torment was bad enough, but weeks? There had to be a better way. "Is there another option?" I asked, my hopeful tone making him shift uncomfortably.

"There is," he admitted reluctantly, still avoiding my gaze. "But it would mean giving up some accommodations."

"What is it?" I asked without hesitation. Frankly, having my own space was far less important than the prospect of sleep.

"Well…" He hesitated again, his words slow. "The simplest way is just… continuing to sleep next to the person. It's not a permanent solution if you ever need to sleep alone, but it works."

Ah, there it was. I'd have to share his bed again. The idea was tempting, but guilt tugged at me. If it meant depriving him of his own comfort, I'd rather endure the sleepless nights.

"Oh," I said quietly. "Well, I'll be fine, right? Just a few more weeks. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

His head snapped toward me, his expression incredulous, as though I had just said the most absurd thing in the world. "Wait, what? No, Luna, I wouldn't mind at all. I just didn't want to suggest it because… well, you just got your own space. I didn't want you to feel like you had to give that up."

This time, I gave him a look that plainly said he was the fool. "Jack, while my accommodations are great, I think the past week has shown that I'm far more comfortable with you than with so-called privacy."

He blinked, processing my words, before exhaling a soft laugh. "Huh. Well, shit. If you don't have a problem with it, neither do I."

"Good," I said firmly. "Now, let's get to bed. I'd kill for an actual full eight hours."

He stood and switched off the lights, the room plunging into a comfortable darkness. As he climbed into bed, I settled on the left side, my back to him. The familiar warmth of his presence was immediate, and my breathing began to fall into a steady rhythm.

One question lingered in my mind, though, as I stared into the dark. "Jack," I murmured, "who did you have this problem with before?"

His response came not in words, but in action. He wrapped an arm around my midsection, pulling me against his chest, his head resting atop mine. The sound of his soft snores reached my ears moments later, leaving the question unanswered.

I sighed in mild exasperation, but the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing made it impossible to hold onto the thought. A yawn overtook me, splitting my jaw, and I barely managed a mumbled, "Good night," before sleep claimed me at last