Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoy. If you REALLY like it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.
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The ocean-blue telekinetic field faded as Walter Waterflower's feet touched down, a large Starmie floating behind him as it glowed with Flash. His eyes swept back and forth across the deck, taking in the rain-diluted blood that pooled in grooves and craters, seeping down splinters to drip below. The pair of worn PokéBalls in his hands dipped from their ready position as more members of the small-ish boat they arrived on were levitated or carried up, careful not to step on the strewn bodies of the unconscious, and a few worse, Pokémon of the passengers aboard the S.S. Anne. The hands fell completely as I pushed through the confused – and now panicking at the arrival of more strangers ready for violence – crowd and made my way over, Misty, Ash, and Brock quickly joining me.
Very much still ready to go, the Admiral started spitting questions before we had a chance to open our mouths.
"The shit!? Where are they!? Where's tha cowards hiddin'!?"
"You're too late, Uncle. We already fought them off." Misty lifted her chin as Walter appeared caught between confusion, disbelief, and pride.
"Wha'? Whatta ya mean, 'gone'!? The fuck happened here!?"
"An excellent question," a voice interjected as something large and orange passed overhead, a figure dropping down to land behind Walter. One hand kept the white hat with a red band on a bald head, while the other came up to tweak a massive, almost whisker-esque mustache as it flapped in the wind. A long lab coat, practically identical to the one Professor Oak preferred, settled around tan pants and a red shirt, partly hidden by a white vest. Finished straightening the impressive facial hair, two fingers shifted to adjust a pair of small and round sunglasses – despite it being the middle of the night.
The lamps and illuminated Pokémon reflected ominously off the lenses as the man, a similar age to Walter, joined us, a row of strange-looking PokéBalls at his waist. A brownish-green, the devices were knotted and organic in a strange way, each slightly unique from the others.
It took me a moment to see through the wear and tear and realise that they weren't PokéBalls, but authentic, original AcornBalls.
Shit, not even Grant had those anymore.
"You assured me that there were Rockets when you dragged me outta bed and commandeered my ship." There was a sneer in both the voice and on the face of the other old-timer, but all the experience I'd gotten with geriatric war veterans said that it was more of a personality trait than genuine anger.
"Seems we're getting slow with age. They're already gone."
"Speak for yourself," the mustached man snorted and pulled down his sunglasses to scan the ship. "If you knew how to follow protocol, we'd have been here minutes ago. Besides, I don't see any ships. Maybe they just put on some disguises." He leered at us, red irises gazing over his glasses.
"Please, yar paranoid ass would still be on Cinnabar!" Walter waved him off and turned back to us to make introductions. Even if I didn't need them. "Kiddies, this grouchy bitch is Blaine Heatmoore, Leader of the Heatmoore Clan and the Cinnabar Gym. Ol' war buddy of mine."
Blaine continued staring at us before snorting again. He opened his mouth to speak, yet before he could, three figures came running out of the half-broken control tower and over towards us.
"Admiral Waterflower, thank Arceus that you are here! Oh, how did this happen!?"
I don't know what I expected from the Captain of the prestigious S.S. Anne, especially since I still wasn't completely clear on who actually owned what and who was in charge. And yet, somehow, the man who came running, face an unflattering red as sweat flooded down from his forehead, was everything, and nothing, like what I thought.
Built with anime logic, the Captain was nearly wider than he was tall, standing half a head shorter than even Ash, the shortest among us. As the Captain lifted his intricate white hat with golden embroidery, he revealed a few remaining tufts of white hair as he wiped the perspiration from his skin. A neatly groomed, spiky beard and mustache hid the double – and triple – chin, yet the button-up shirt and suspenders did little to contain the vast stomach that pressed against the fabric and threatened to launch the buttons like a cannonball.
But perhaps worst of all was the short, black Cape with more golden embroidery that flapped in the last gales, frilly golden shoulder pads swaying. I could see various figures in the gilded tapestry, but not well enough to make any of them out.
Also, I did not for a single second believe that the Danny DeVito-lookalike had any idea of how to use the beautiful saber that hung at his hip. I doubt the ornamental weapon had much of an edge in the first place.
"Oh, Admiral-"
"Shut ya mouth, Steward, that's what I'm tryin' ta figure out! Now, one atta time. Explain."
I mostly stayed out of the following report, assuming that Misty and probably Brock knew how Walter wanted the situation explained, and being proven right, despite Captain Steward's sniffling interjections that mostly revolved around how scared he'd been. At the end, I was forced to participate, though, delivering my account of the fight against Proton as monotonously as I could.
Something easier than I'd thought. In contrast to my other times fighting against Team Rocket, I wasn't vibrating in fury at their escape. I just felt… hollow. Wrung out.
The news of Raticate's fate drew a sympathetic look from Walter towards Gary, who was still huddled around his lost teammate with his remaining conscious Growlithe and Clefairy.
"Ah, that's rough. Don't really prepare ya youngsters for that sorta thing these days. He'll need time with his team, and someone who gets it." He glanced at me with those last words, making me nod. I already felt responsible, so that wouldn't be a problem.
"Who cares about the kid. You will tell me the truth about how the Rockets escaped, no more lying." Blaine, on the other hand, didn't as much as flinch. Well, that wasn't technically true, as he took a step forwards and loomed over us, despite not being that much taller than Brock.
"We already told you that they Teleported-" Misty protested, but was cut off.
"Do I look like a fool, girl!? Over a hundred humans and several hundred Pokémon, both dead and alive, were remotely Teleported by something that wasn't even in sight!? The storm itself would already have taken an entire flock of Dragonair! The standards of the Waterflowers have truly fallen off if that's the best lie you can come up with-"
"Now now, Blaine, calm ya tits." Walter interrupted the Fire-Type Trainer in turn, putting a hand on his shoulder. Despite his calm demeanor and seemingly jovial attitude, I knew the look in his eyes as the Cinnabat Gym Leader turned to him. Evidently, so did Blaine, as the taciturn bald man crossed his arms and backed down.
I frowned, his behavior penetrating my funk a little. What a dick.
"If tha kiddies say they Teleported, then they Teleported, alright. I trust 'em. That said," Walter frowned, looking more serious than I'd seen him since he threatened to cut my head off, "ya ain't wrong. The amount of specially trained Alakazam, Dragonair, and Ghost-Types…" The Water-Type Master trailed off, but I got the idea.
While Team Rocket was a large operation, the whole thing smelled of way more resources than Walter, at least, thought they had. I was damn near sure that a single Pokémon did the storm and Teleportation, partly because I'm pretty sure I saw the fuck flying, but mostly because I already knew that they had something capable of doing crazy stuff like that.
Fuck, maybe the Distortion Field was its doing, too.
Who knew what Mewtwo could pull off?
"Where was ya security at anyway, eh, Skipper? Did ya cheap ass skip out on quality this time?" Walter demanded, putting it to the side for now and returning to Steward, Blaine circling the distraught Captain like a prowling Mightyena.
"We did not, I swear!" If the Captain didn't calm down soon, he'd rip the lining of his hat with how hard he was twisting it. "I was going to use the standard Sootopolis crew, but there were problems due to the succession of their Gym, so I had to look elsewhere! I was assured that they were some of the finest aquatic combatants Hoenn had to offer! I do not understand-look! There he is now!"
We looked in the direction he indicated, and immediately, Walter stiffened in recognition.
Though to be fair, so did I.
Seeing what we were, Blaine snorted and spit on the deck with a dark look in his eyes, hand gracing one of his near-ruined Acorn Balls.
"No fucking wonder. Thought you knew better than to use pirate scum."
"That's hurtful, ya pyromanical, genocidal, crusty cunt!" Danm, the voice was as stereotypically pirate as Walter's.
The man coming our way walked with a confidence so rare to see, each step marked by a swagger that even Gary – in his normal state – would envy. A short, pointed beard hid a strong, darkly tanned jawline from view, with the middle of the mustache and soul patch missing. A full-body, blue swimsuit clung tightly to large, yet not bodybuilder-inflated, muscles, a tear showing his left bicep vein. The suit had a white area around the chest and light blue and white areas on his legs. A ragged black cape with gray stripes hung from his broad back, speaking of a lifetime of hard labor, connected to the gold chains around his torso with a massive anker pendant at the end. As he came to a stop, I was surprised to see that while he wasn't short, the man wasn't super tall either, a little shorter than Blaine, though much wider. I don't know if it was the attitude or the fact that his blue and black shoes clearly had inch-thick soles, but he just came off as a big guy.
Of course, it could also be the blue bandana around his head, with a white circle that had a pair of bones sticking out of the bottom and a spike at the top, like a fusion between the letter A and a pirate flag.
"And the Admiral of Kanto! My, my, we in fancy company, eh, lads!?" Archie, leader of Team Aqua, one of the villain Teams of Hoenn, laughed, echoed by the small group of men in sailor uniforms who trailed him. I might've recognised a couple of their faces from around the ship, but they definitely hadn't been wearing the bandanas similar to their boss back then. "And what brings yar old bastards all the way out here, eh? Ain't committed enough war crimes as of late?"
"You are one to talk about crimes," Blaine spat again, deliberately close to Archie's foot, though the pirate didn't seem as affected as his men, who bristled at the disrespect, merely waving them off with a grin. Meanwhile, Blaine reached into his lab coat and retrieved a small metal flask, and downed a gulp. Even with the salty sea air, with an underlying scent of blood, I still wrinkled my nose at the potent odor. "Thought you scum would be too busy harassing civilians to bother with honest work."
"Ha! And miss out on seeing yar ugly mug, Wildfire? Never, ya know how much I enjoy our back-and-forth! And what 'bout ya, oh great Admiral? How's tha fam doin'?" For maybe the first time, I saw Walter refuse to engage, crossing his arms and merely staring back at Archie, getting a double snort from the other two men.
As the adults took turns hurling insults at each other – Blaine seemingly an equal opportunity shit-talker as he targeted Walter almost as much as Archie and the Waterflower uncharacteristically silent – I took the chance to check my PokéDex for any response on the message I sent while waiting for the Cinnabar ship to arrive, glancing over to where Gary and his team had moved Raticate's body to the railing.
Seeing nothing had changed in either place, I refocused on the conversation. Team Aqua should not be on the S.S. Anne, and an international crime cabal was the last fucking thing I needed. I was getting my ass kicked by just one organization.
"-reduced every last one of you to ash and dumped you in the ocean you love so much!"
"Bring it, ya bald bitch! Ya skull will look mighty fine on tha prow of me ship!" Blaine was as red in the face as the Type he preferred, snarling and spitting. Opposite, Archie remained grinning wildly, arms spread wide in mocking invitation. He looked to be having a grand old time, while Blaine seemed genuinely offended. Lastly, Walter still appeared to be doing his best to stay out of it, lost in thought as he gazed through Archie.
"Enough!" Miraculously, Captain Steward summoned some courage that I hadn't thought him capable of, and stepped between the two Trainers to have his own go at the crime boss – a fact which I wasn't sure if anyone present knew about, or to what extent. Blaine called him a pirate, but they also weren't blowing up the ship trying to arrest him, and he'd been legally hired as far as I could understand. "Now, Captain Archie, I do not mean to cast aspersions on your character, but as I am sure you can see, this is a disaster! You came highly recommended, and nearly all sailors in both Sootopolis and Slateport sang your praises, but I must demand an explanation!"
"Easy, Cap'n!" Not giving a single fuck, Archie stepped forward and slung an arm around the shorter man's shoulders, still grinning. "I know this is a bit of a mess for ya, but me and me boys tried, honest! But ya insisted on only allowing me tha bare minimum crew, so I don't know what ya expected us ta do against those numbers. Shit, I fought two of 'em commanders of theirs by meself-"
"So, for all your talk about strength, two nobodies were able to hold you off? Pathetic!" Blaine wasted no time jumping on the chance, Archie returning fire immediately. It really did seem like an established routine between the two, and I wondered how often they came into contact. Maybe more often than I'd thought, since Cinnabar was basically a part of the Sevii Islands.
"I'd have liked ta see ya do better, you impotent cuc-"
"Why'd you only have one Pokémon out?" I interrupted, directing the attention towards me for the first time.
"Wha'? I don't know what yar talking about, lad." Archie tried to wave me off, but I wasn't having it.
"You only used your Sharpedo to fight both Executives. I can see that you have more Pokémon," I gestured to his waist, where, sure enough, six PokéBalls of blue hue hung. They might've been DiveBalls, the water-specific type of PokéBalls, but I wasn't going to say for sure. "So why didn't you use them?"
"I did, ya must've missed them in tha storm. Can't blame ya, ya were getting yar ass kicked as far as I've heard." Again, he tried to dismiss the matter, but nobody was buying it. "Tha fuck do ya want!? I told you, most of me 'mon were in the water, taking care of their reinforcements! If tha weaklin's of Cerulean hadn't rolled over instantly and actually pulled their weight-"
"Oi." Walter finally found his voice, peering at Archie with hard eyes. "Ya'll speak about tha Clan properly."
"Will I now? And how are ya going to make me?" Usually, I would've said that was a bluff, but there was more than a hint of madness in Archie's toothy smile as he stepped right up in Walter's face despite the height disadvantage, leaning back with his hands on his lower back and chest out confidently.
Yet, it seemed he wasn't a complete lunatic, as he looked around at the hostile faces surrounding him and backed off, gesturing innocently. "Alright, maybe it wasn't the lovely folk of Cerulean's fault, but far's I remember, the main guys were 'em rock-fuckers anyway. Heard some of 'em were mixed up with criminals, so as far as I know, they might've been in on it. If ya wanna blame someone, start there."
In a completely surreal turn of events, I had to hold out a hand to stop Brock from moving forward, seeing the Aqua Grunts ready. I knew he was sensitive regarding the events of Mt. Moon, but it was so not the time for another fight way out of our league.
Mostly because my team was down.
Besides, Captain Steward didn't take the words to heart.
"I will have you know that every member of the Pebble Clan has been accounted for, almost all of them with quite serious injuries, might I add! Meanwhile, I barely see a scratch on your… scallywags!"
"Is that so," Archie muttered, something flashing across his face before being hidden by the large grin, "they must've been quite weak, eh, if me lads outdid 'em that bad, hahahahaha!" Throwing his head back and planting his fists on his hips, Archie gave a belly laugh like he was an actual cartoon character.
For a second, nobody laughed with him, before he stopped and glared over his shoulder at his crew, making them break out in uproarious laughter as well.
It was a real struggle to remember that the guy was the leader of an eco-terrorist group who wanted to flood the planet.
"Come now, lighten up! Sure, she got a lil' banged up, but she'll be patched and back on tha waves in no time-" A commotion over to the side stopped whatever other excuses the pirate was going to make, drawing all of our eyes. Walter, Brock, and Misty didn't have much of a reaction, other than untensing when they saw that it wasn't an enemy. Blaine and Captain Steward, on the other hand, both stiffened and stared, the Captain with a mix of so many emotions I couldn't make anything out, and Blaine actually calming for the first time since I'd met the man, his face shutting down and going cold.
For some reason, I didn't think he was actually calm. If anything, I got the feeling that it was the angriest he'd been.
Archie, meanwhile, looked positively delighted. "Fuck me, this is a party! Yar some darn teases, danglin' Trainers like these in front of me!"
Stomping through the crowd as they got pushed aside by an invisible force, Samuel Oak's bloodshot eyes darted around the ship furiously, hair an absolute mess, and imprints on his face from whatever he'd fallen asleep on. His lab coat was on inside out, his tie untied, and the left shoe was missing, yet there was more energy to him than I'd ever seen before. Floating by his side, legs crossed and spoon-clutching hands on her knees, was Aly the Alakazam, helpfully tossing people aside so they could get through.
Oak's gaze found our group, running over us quickly in search of injuries, a tiny bit of tension leaking from his stiff posture at not finding anything serious, though he lingered on the bandages around my chest and arm. Likewise, he paused on Blaine for a while as their eyes met, but that too was dismissed as he finally found Gary and his team over in their corner and stormed that way.
"Hoho, what a fun day!" Archie muttered as the gang moved over towards the two Oaks, a heavily drinking Blaine in tow. Turning that way myself, I was stopped by a hand on my uninjured shoulder from Walter.
"Ya alright, lad?" He asked, and I knew he didn't mean physically.
"I-... yeah. Kinda, I don't know. Not as… not as bad as I probably should be." I muttered back, keeping my eyes on the Professor as he reached his grandson, crouching down by his side and trying to put an arm around him, which Gary shrugged off.
"Aye, I know that feeling. When shit's all fucked and ya wrap all the way around ta desensitized."
"Yeah." Changing the subject, I started walking while jutting my chin at Archie as the Team Aqua leader went over to the side with his crew, staying within earshot, yet far enough that they could mutter to themselves. "What about you? You know that guy?"
"Aye, ya could say that." He muttered back. "Story for 'nother time, though. Focus on ya friend for now. He needs someone, and it looks like it ain't lil' Tree."
Sure enough, Gary was very demonstrably doing his best not to look at his grandfather, pushing him away anytime he tried to initiate contact. Getting close enough, I stopped next to a supremely uncomfortable-looking Ash and caught the tail end of the conversation.
"-just for a couple of weeks, maybe a month-"
"NO!" While the Professor spoke in low tones, Gary was all out of fucks and was basically yelling, not caring that most of the people on board were looking their way, either obviously or trying to be covert. "I'm not fucking going home, do you understand!? You can't treat me like this!"
"Gary, I'm not suggesting that you stop being a Trainer, I just think-"
"I don't fucking care what you think! You're not my fucking dad!" Based on the grimace that flashed across his face, Gary hadn't meant to say that and didn't necessarily like that he did, but he also didn't take it back, jutting his chin out stubbornly. The older Oak, meanwhile, looked like he'd been slapped.
"I-Gary, I-I know that, but I just want what's best for you-"
"Then stop fucking telling me what to do! I'm going to Lavender, and that's final!"
"If yar going ta the Tower," Walter cut in, not flinching even when everyone around glared at him for interrupting. Instead, he reached behind his back and took something from a pouch on the back of his belt, the Professor looking like he'd swallowed a lemon as Walter handed Gary a completely solid black PokéBall. "Ya'll need this. Transport for… well, for those that need it." That was almost gentle by the Admiral's standards, and Gary appeared lost for words. His grandfather, though, wasn't pleased and had enough for both of them.
"These are not war times, Walter-!"
"Who cares 'bout tha times?" The largest among us shrugged, not caring about Oak's outrage. "Still a fine tradition."
"The black PokéBall are outdated and-"
"Thank you." The words were quiet, Gary's lips barely moving as he stared at the ball, yet it silenced all other conversation. Instead, we could only watch as he drew in deep breaths, Growly the Growlithe pressing into his side firmly and whining for comfort. Moving closer to the unmoving body of his Raticate, Gary's lower lip quivered, his eyes shining as he looked over his fallen Pokémon for a final time. Patches of fur had fallen off postmortem as the Gengar miasma continued to wreak havoc on the corpse; a thick red liquid had leaked from the open mouth and dried into a puddle on the deck. Even still, Gary leaned down close as he put a hand on it, pressing the black ball against the stiff corpus and whispering so low that I almost missed it.
"I'm sorry."
And in a flash of red, the body of Raticate was gone, contained in the solemn, dark PokéBall.
Silence reigned over the S.S. Anne as Gary held the ball with two, shaking hands. Eventually, though, it was broken by the Professor, the grey-haired man rubbing his eyes and looking older than I'd ever seen him.
"... okay. We'll go to Lavender first. Get him a headstone, third floor, even. There's a couple of things I guess it's time I showed-"
"I want to go alone."
If the previous mention of Samuel not being Gary's father had been like a slap in the face, those words had the effect of a kick to the groin. The Pokémon Professor stopped, mouth agape as he stared at his grandson, who kept his own gaze locked on the floor. Pulling at my collar uncomfortably, I looked around and found most looking out over the sea, pretending like they hadn't heard anything, though their awkward grimaces gave them away. The only exceptions were Archie, who stood over to the side, not even bothering to pretend that he wasn't openly listening in, and Blaine, whose almost horny facial expression made me super uncomfortable.
Rallying, the Professor pushed through his hurt.
"... Gary…"
"Gamps, please, I-..." Voice breaking, Gary took a moment to gather himself. "I just-... I need a little time alone. Please. I'll come back home for a bit, I promise, I just… Please."
It was weird and off-putting to hear Gary be so vulnerable, yet there was zero judgment from my side. Mew knew I'd been much worse throughout the years.
In the face of his grandson's anguish, even Samuel Oak's better sense had to bend, if not break.
"The girls, then-"
"NO! Not you, not the girls, not fucking anybody-!"
"I'll go."
I felt like Frodo volunteering to carry the ring to Mordor as all eyes shifted to me. That, however, also meant I found myself under Oak's scrutiny, who was not having a good time.
"What? Peri? That's not any better! And you're injured! How has none of you gotten him a healer!?" He glared around at the other adults, though if he was looking for regret or chagrin, he'd come to the wrong guys, as they just shrugged, though Walter did wave down a Vaporion and its Trainer, who started fussing over my scratches.
"Never mind that. I'll go with you to Lavender."
"Absolutely not!" Once more, the Professor tried to put his foot down. "In fact, you should be back at the Reserve yourself!"
"Okay, but that's just not happening." No way I was being put in time-out.
"And I can't force you to come, but there is zero chance that I'll allow the two of you to galavant around Kanto in your condition-"
"Okay."
Everything stopped at Gary's words again, the boy refusing to look at any of us as he stood up to lean over the railing, focus lost amongst the waves. "You can come."
I nodded silently, walking over to stand on his other side from where Growly was, leaning my back against the railing as well.
"I said no!" Leaping to his feet right alongside us, Oak glared at us, though only one of us could see it. "You're in no place mentally to only have each other around! That's one of the worst ideas I've ever heard, in fact! No, it's decided! You will come home with me, where I can keep you safe and teach you properly, no more throwing yourselves against terrorists!"
Before I had the chance to protest, though, judging by the genuinely scary-looking snarl on Gary's face, I wouldn't have to, Walter once more stepped in on our behalf.
"Now now, Oak, ain't that a smidge hypocritical? As I recall, ya weren't that much older when ya threw yarself headfirst into a war."
"And look where that led!" The Professor was near yelling at that point, being ganged up on from every direction. The real shame of it all was that he was kind of right. Gary and I running around unsupervised in the middle of nowhere, now that Team Rocket knew that I, in particular, had Pokémon that they'd be extremely interested in, was likely a bad idea.
"Don't put ya mistakes on 'em. They're licensed Trainers, they can do as they wish."
"Their Pokémon are all injured!"
"I'm sure that tha good people of the S.S. Anne would be more than happy ta help their teams, won't ya, Cap'n?" Walter's question – more of a statement, really, with the way he was looking at Steward – got a series of rapid nods in response. "There ya go. We'll get 'em back on their feet, and I'll Teleport 'em to Lavender meself-"
"I don't wanna Teleport. I wanna walk."
I gave a subtle nod at Walter's glance. I hadn't planned on roughing it again so soon, but I wouldn't complain about the chance for some more Training.
Clearly, both Gary and I needed it.
"If ya insist," the large sailor shrugged it off, apparently at the limit of his empathy. Suppose it was far from an unusual situation for him, seeing a rookie lose their first teammate. "I'll take ya to Cerulean, then, and get yar 'mon fixed up. Should be less than a week's walk to Lavender. Giv' me a moment to set things up here."
"I'll take them-" The Professor tried to claim, waving to Aly the Alakazam still at his side, but Gary swiftly interrupted.
"NO! No, I-... I'll wait."
Walter shrugged, seeming somewhat pleased with the Professor's discomfort. Hell, Blaine was damn near giddy over to the side, eyes darting back and forth with every facial twitch.
"Alrighty, back in a minute."
Gary nodded silently, continuing to stare out over the sea with an unfocused gaze. I could feel the looks of the rest on the back of our heads as I leaned against the railing next to him, the Professor opening his mouth again, yet closing it after briefly catching my eye.
"... if you insist." The conflict was thick in the grey-haired man's voice. "Just… I-... you have my number if there are any questions regarding the… procedure or simply… wish to talk."
No answer. Finding himself surrounded by people who were at best neutral towards him, Oak's face turned red, and he quickly made his excuses before retreating. Blaine soon wandered off as well to yell at some random crew members, now that the show was over.
I sighed quietly to myself, barely registering that the sight of the dark waves reflecting the lamps did almost nothing to me.
It was going to be a long-ass walk.
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"Show me."
I looked over my shoulder and curled an eyebrow at Gary, pulling my fist back from the tree in front of me and turning around. The plains surrounding Cerulean were in a rare moment of silence as the first signs of dawn arrived, the nocturnal denizens returning from their excursions, while the swaying, dew-soaked grass began to bustle, and the nearby creek came to life. Generally at this point of the day, I'd hear Sol stirring as the first beams of light touched the canvas, but for the first time in a long while, I'd slept alone. It had been nearly night by the time our teams got released by the healers, and Gary instantly started hoofing it, so we were only a couple of hours from the city. It wasn't in the same area as where I'd met Hercules, unfortunately. I'm sure he would've liked to show off.
Then again, I quite looked forward to seeing what he could do himself.
Even if I'd been distracted.
It was the first morning after three days of recuperating in Cerulean, and honestly, it was one of the first times I'd heard more than a grunt or single syllable out of Gary.
Not that, as ashamed as I was by it, that I'd tried all that hard. There had been long hours sitting in the Cerulean medbay, side by side, watching over our Pokémon as they were treated by the finest medicine and specialists money could buy – courtesy of the S.S. Anne, as the first step in trying to save as much face as possible. According to Walter, we should expect a hefty check at some point.
Neither of us had been particularly excited by that, in contrast to how excited we would've been four days earlier. Adding to the irony, none of our Pokémon were super injured. Eevee's wound had been so cleanly cut that putting it back together was relatively easy, apparently, and Squirty's shell, while horrific looking and extremely crippling in the wild, wasn't unrecoverable in the face of Full Restores and world-class Chansey.
Except for the one Pokémon who couldn't be healed at all, and hung over us all like a shadow, the black PokéBall never far from Gary's hands or belt as he huddled by the bedsides.
Yet, when he wasn't there, Gary vanished completely. I wasn't sure the guy had eaten since the S.S. Anne.
How do you apologize for not correctly remembering your future knowledge? How'd you help him deal with it when it was basically your fault?
"Show you what?"
"That." He pointed at the fist-shaped indents in the fresh wood, bark stripped off by my punches. Shifting his finger, he indicated my essentially unhurt knuckles, a tinge of red the only indication they'd been in use. "Show me how to do the strength shit you've got going on."
"Gary…" I hesitated. It wasn't that I couldn't or wouldn't, but… "Listen, I'm not an expert or even actually know what the fuck I'm doing, much less a teacher. I've been figuring it out as I went, and it's still taken me years-"
"I don't give a fuck!" He swung his hand through the air violently before crossing his arms and looking away with a clenched jaw. "I don't fucking care how long it takes! If I'd been stronger…" I could hear his teeth grinding against each other.
"You can't think like that…" Fuck, I should've been better prepared to be on the other side of that conversation. What did Delia and my therapist use to say?
"It's true!"
"No, it's-uh… you did all that anyone could ask…" The syllables tasted like dirt on my tongue, and I couldn't even blame him when Gary stepped forward and shoved me.
"That's the best you've fucking got!? All anyone could ask for!? Since when has that been fucking good enough!?"
"You have to let it go. There was nothing you could do-" I was really fucking the whole thing up.
Another push.
"Let it go!? LET IT GO!? What, like you let it go, huh!? Your whining, bitching, moaning emo ass has been skulking around for fucking years, but I need to get over it!? FUCK YOU!"
"That's not-what I meant was that it will eat you alive-"
"GOOD! I DON'T WANT IT TO STOP, NOT UNTIL I'VE FOUND EVERY LAST ONE OF THOSE FUCKERS AND REPAID THEM TEN TIMES!"
Entirely fair, and words I'd echoed plenty, and likely would in the future.
And yet. And yet.
Life was so fucking complicated.
"I'm just saying that you can't just fucking throw your life away!" I was getting frustrated, and it had barely been a couple of minutes. How had people dealt with me for years?
"Stop fucking treating me like a fucking infant!" He pushed me again, harder, and I felt the annoyance rise. Calm, Peri, calm.
"Then stop acting like one!" I felt like an absolute bastard, and not in a good way, at the way Gary flinched at my words.
"THE FUCK YOU SAY!?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" That was as far as I got.
"YOU THINK IT WAS MY FAULT, HUH!?" I blinked in confusion at the sudden accusation, shaking my head to no avail. "I FUCKING KNOW, OKAY!? I FUCKING KNOW IT WAS MY FAULT!"
"Gary, that's not true at all! If anything, it's my fault, you were trying to help me…" I tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he slapped it away.
"FUCK YOU! NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU!" Another shove, but this time I braced myself against it, and Gary ended up stumbling backwards himself. He glared at me, eyes glinting in the morning light as he wiped at them furiously. "I don't care what you could've done! I don't fucking care what you knew, or what you were doing, o-or that I was t-trying to help you!" Tears leaked down his cheeks, hands fisted in his hair as he grit his teeth and tried to hold himself together. "I fucked up! I-I wasn't s-strong enough, o-or g-good enough, and, and-"
I didn't realise that I'd moved before my arms were around him and he was beating his fists against me.
"LET ME GO, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! DON'T FUCKING T-TOUCH ME, Y-YOU FUCKING A-ASSHOle! I-I-..." Slowly, the fight left him, and he collapsed against me, body trembling as he tried to stifle the sobs. Tears and snot soaked through my shirt, and his fingers dug into my back, but I just held him tighter, trying to show him all the things I didn't have the words to say. That I understood, that I got it, that it wasn't his fault, that I was there for him. All the things people had said to me that I'd never believed, yet wanted so desperately to.
Eventually, somehow, we ended up sitting side-by-side as the sun finally crested the horizon. Waiting for the final sniffles to subside, I finally spoke up.
"I'll show you. I don't know how much it will help, but I'll show you. We've got a week, or a little more, to Lavender. Let's get some breakfast and get our teams checked over first. And then, we train. Sound good?" Knowing that I would prefer it that way myself, I didn't look directly at him as he wiped the last traces away and nodded.
"... I'm going to kill them, Peri."
"I know." I nodded. Outside of my episodes on the S.S. Anne, I hadn't actually killed any Rockets myself yet. I really wasn't sure if, or how, that was going to change, but it also felt so very unimportant. "But it can't be in exchange for everything else. I know it doesn't feel like it matters, but it does." Life was fucking weird, putting me in the position of being the restrained one. There was no fucking way that was going to turn out well. "I…" I hesitated, knowing that what I was about to do was an idiotic idea.
But sometimes, it was about more than just what was smart or optimal.
"I do have one lead on Team Rocket." I felt him move by my side, yet didn't look at him, gazing out into the coming dawn and weighing my decision. Too late, though.
"Have you ever heard of the Game Corner in Celadon?"
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Mostly dealing with the aftermath of the last chapter and setting up both the next thing and some more future-oriented stuff, but that's important.
Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoyed. If you REALLY liked it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.