Love Lost, Chapter 12a: Communiques.
#23 of Love Lost
Love Lost, Chapter 12a: Communiques.
Joe received his pokemon from an attendant, released Burner and Grace, and adjusted his collar sash. Running his thumb over his only badge as he stepped up to the circle, he felt funny wearing it.
Percival stood a quadrant away, laughing to himself as Joe touched what should've been his own badge. He called across the circle's rim while receiving and releasing his fighters. "We should make a wager, Joe. I win, you give me that badge. You win, well, you're not going to win."
"If it belongs to anybody, it belongs to Burner, and I don't think he wants me to give it away."
Burner confirmed Joe's suspicion by standing immediately behind him, gripping his master's right shoulder with a gentle pull and rubbing his thumb talon over the badge while crowing something that sounded boastful and snarky. Percival pulled Sam and Frankie near and whispered something into their ears before sending them in. Grace ignored the boys' exchange--her attention loosely directed toward the gallery--and drifted into the circle behind Burner as he and the others took their positions. Arena lighting shifted as the gym prepared to begin the night's final. There seemed to be some sort of delay, as their judge was not present.
"Is this seat taken?"
James glanced at an elderly stranger and admitted, "Nope."
The old man sat with a smooth, gentle motion. Almost deliberate. His pet bird squatted beside him, a xatu unable to sit comfortably in fixed seating. It grumbled something that got the old man's attention. He turned to his neighbor, "My friend says that he feels something's bothering you."
James opened his mouth to reply but was run over by a continuing Iwamoto.
"And, that you will say something rude if I bring it up, which I should let slide or interrupt before you say it."
James leaned forward a bit and squinted at the two-seats-away xatu. "I don't like having my mind read."
The old man laughed. "Reading minds without permission isn't his way, although he does establish telepathic links when he needs to." He leaned toward Crying-Tree, who stretched toward Iwamoto likewise until they almost touched. Then, his bird rose and shuffled away.
"What his powers noticed is that the beautiful gardevoir out there is paying attention to how you're feeling."
"She's my son's... starter."
Iwamoto looked to his left and nodded gently to someone far away. "I visit this place frequently and recognize the regulars. He's been to this gym many times this year, but you haven't."
"I don't approve of the sport."
The gym announcer's voice boomed through the gallery. "Rennin Gym invites you to turn your attention to the center circle for tonight's local doubles final between sixth-tier Percival Finnegan and fifth-tier Joe Rainier. Both are freshman students at Marignac High and even live on the same street, so we're sure they and their pokemon know what they're up against. While earlier rounds were played for points, this final will be one round with no timer. The one with a pokemon still standing when the dust settles will be our champion. Pokemon on your marks; combat begins with the light signal."
Iwamoto nodded again. "You're watching it tonight."
A bright strobe above the circle blinked three times in a fraction of a second.
Being the fastest pokemon on the field, and knowing that Percival had programmed Burner with earthquake during their summer adventure, Sam leapt acrobatically before Burner as he charged toward Frankie, surely intending to knock the ram out first-thing. Grace targeted Frankie, too, with a confuse-ray, but Frankie kept his focus and successfully cast a rain-dance, elevating the local humidity to its maximum and beyond. Burner broke free from Sam and prepared to shake the arena with a mighty tremor, but caught a belly full of static-charged ampharos when Frankie headbutted head-long into Burner as his foot came down. The disrupted impact stumbled an already-disoriented Sam and knocked Grace off balance, while both Burner and Frankie struggled to stand upright after their collision.
James blotted a spot of spilled soda on his right pants leg with a napkin. "I didn't give him enough of my time before I realized I didn't have as much as I'd thought. I'm working on that, even if it means watching pokemon fight."
Iwamoto hummed with agreement, never taking his eyes off of the contest.
Slowed by static, a very fluffed blaziken wanted to pay Frankie back, but Sam cut him off again. Grace noticed Frankie's gems glowing bright white as electricity arced across his horns. She teleported twice, once beside Sam and Burner to force them apart, and then, grabbing Burner and warping him to a place near the rim and behind Frankie. Still dazed from Grace's confuse-ray, Frankie lost focus when he lost sight of his target and failed to ground himself properly while directing his attack into the earth instead of into Sam, the only pokemon he could see to strike, partially electrocuting himself.
The old man adjusted his glasses slightly. "Is that why the gardevoir listens to the emotions you give off? Because she knows you don't like watching this?"
James folded his arms. "It's because she knows I'm not happy with my son turning into the cliche young man with a beautiful gardevoir and few real friends, none of which are girls."
Sam's acrobatics--a consolation gift from Ulysses after Percival came home--was wearing Burner down, but he wasted no time and delivered an earthquake proper, flattening Frankie before he could recover his charge or his stance. Grace brushed fallen hair out of her face while Sam shrugged off the temblor and came at Burner again. Grace targeted her teammate with a heal-pulse to keep him standing as Percival activated Frankie's ball.
Iwamoto spoke with a weary tone. "Boys will be boys, and girls will be girls. Do you trust him to always try to do the right thing?"
"Yes," James admitted.
"And do you trust her to always try to do the right thing?"
"Yes," James admitted somewhat reluctantly.
"I can't assuage your concerns, but since I was a young trainer once--well before they started talking to their masters in this region--and later a father to a young trainer, I can offer a bit of wisdom earned through experience. They'll make mistakes, they'll learn, and whatever happens, it won't be the end of the world. It is better that they have each other to rely on when they make those mistakes than some 'real friend' who really isn't."
Sam deftly twisted around, escaping Burner's blaze-kick and providing an opportunity to get behind him and aerial-ace him into the flooring. Joe recalled Burner out from underneath Sam, who perched upon him as though he might try to rise again. With Burner removed, Sam turned his gaze toward Grace. She stunned him with a confuse-ray, acting defensively rather than strategically; he had a wild, blood-thirsty look in his eyes and inducing confusion was her immediate reaction just to make him look away. Even when he cringed and stumbled, she could still feel the wild and the blood-thirsty in his mind.
"Besides," Iwamoto added, "everything changes in high school, and everything changes again after high school."
Grace summoned a cloud of magical-leaves and pelted Sam weakly, but enough to suffer only a glancing blow from his night-slash. She teleported to the rim opposite Sam to buy some time, confusing him once more. He knelt and waited for its effect to dissipate.
Iwamoto leaned forward. "During the off season, many parents come here to cheer their children on. Many of them are caught up in winning, to make up for their losses when they were trainers themselves or thinking their kids will be happy if they bring home little trophies. I don't meet enough that are actually thinking about what being there--being here--really means."
Sam rushed in, and Grace fell back on a proven tactic. Her body faded to a dull purple. She glided low, legs first, somewhat beneath and somewhat through Sam and his tail. As he twisted to come about, Grace became properly opaque and floated into him forcefully with her left shoulder aimed at his center of mass, staggering him across the white tape line.
A referee blew his whistle and the arena lighting changed, spotlights appearing to highlight the victors. While Joe did not look much different, Grace's shiny nature became somewhat more pronounced within their intense beams.
Iwamoto stood with a smooth, gentle motion. Very deliberate. "And that's why I'm sorry that I must do this." He drew a gunsen from his pocket and flicked it open. It was solid red with a black cross in the middle. He also held up his left hand, palm forward and fingers spread wide.
Crying-Tree entered a small booth and startled the announcer within by reaching over his shoulders and pressing his wings against the sides of his head for a moment.
Sam looked at Grace with a furious sneer as the announcer addressed Rennin Gym's attendees. "Having performed confuse-ray, teleport, heal-pulse, magical-leaf, and shadow-sneak during one session, Trainer Rainier's gardevoir has committed a five-technique foul, and is disqualified from play. The winner of tonight's contest: Mr. Percival Finnegan!"
Redirected spotlights bathed a badge-count-zero and his starter, whose mind did not appreciate the attention but whose skin delighted in a hot lamp's glow.
Stepping out of the circle, it was now Grace who wore an angry expression.
James left the seating a few steps behind Iwamoto. "I guess you're a big wig in all of this."
The old man melodramatically scratched his balded head and mused, "I seem to have forgotten my big wig tonight." He waited a couple seconds for his joke to fall flat. "They like it better when I sit down there, but you can't see everything that's going on when you're too close." Iwamoto stopped and James almost bumped into him. Iwamoto lowered his voice. "Often, I invite people into my office and discuss matters over a cup of noodles, but in your case, you have all the advice I think you need."
Rejuvenated, Burner stood and glanced around quickly when he was released in Rennin Pokecenter's lobby. Joe did not look happy. Grace did not either. "We didn't win."
Joe said, "No," with a huff. Grace turned and stomped away, although her form and nature prevented her stomps from being particularly stompy.
Burner grumbled. "I really wanted not to lose to Percival."
"Same here."
They started walking toward the door. Burner continued. "I should have spent more time letting her practice and train on me. Your T.D. said she needs more experience to use the psychic technique effectively, and right now she only has a weak confusion attack and a Grass-type leaf thing she never uses."
"She used it tonight." The doors glided open with a hiss. "And that's part of why we lost. She didn't get knocked out. She got D.Q.'d for using five moves."
James put out his cigarette and got into his car's driver seat. Grace was in the back seat already. She could both barely hear and barely feel Joe and Burner's conversation as they approached.
"...how sometimes she did a thing kinda like when Marianne pulls people through walls instead of when she actually teleports? That's some shadow-sneak thing, and it counted as number five. Sam was still in the ring when she did it so Percy got the win. Do you want to squeeze in the car, or ride home in your ball? I'll sit in the back so you can have more leg room."
Burner could feel Grace feeling his reaction to the news. "I think I'll visit Alice if that's okay with you." He gave Joe a loose hug when he assented. "I'm sorry I didn't do enough to be sure we would win." Burner walked away.
"Burner, it's..." Burner kept walking. "...no big deal." Joe slipped into the passenger seat. He could feel something seething behind him.
Their ride home was absolutely silent.
Mister Pearson noticed Marianne's jewelry beginning to glow. "What are you doing?"
She swiped a tendril through his bowl of popcorn, flinging a couple pops into the air, catching two in her mouth and letting three more pass through and become suspended in her hat for the time being. "What do you mean? Oh. That probably means the Rainerds are back within my radius," she relaxed for a moment to process the vibes, "and the blue one is in a bad mood. After I shift that into an energy I can readily consume, I'll be in a good mood." She popped each of the three pops out of her hat and into the air again, catching them successively successfully. "They've been too positive lately, leaving me running on fumes."
"So if you get in a good mood, you'll leave me alone tonight?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe I'm going to put out a call for a poochyena pup at the Center."
Marianne dipped a chip. "Like you're going to find one that's willing to watch footy with you and won't slobber on these fine leather seats of yours." She offered her chip to Mr. Pearson.
Grace teleported inside and opened the front door as soon as James halted his car. By the time father and son entered, her presence in their home was indicated only by running water in the bathroom.
James discarded his keys and checked the time. "It's too late to bother with cooking dinner. I'll heat up some leftovers. You got any homework this weekend?"
Joe felt a little stupid that he had forgotten. "Yeah. Mostly reading, though."
"Get on it, I'll let you know when it's ready."
The first couple of pages were easy enough, but something vague nagged at Joe. Concentrating was difficult at the sixth page, and by the ninth he could not focus enough to take a note without losing place and re-reading a paragraph or skipping ahead one. "Stupid damned rule," he thought, "there's no reason for it. He got hit from behind and stepped out; it doesn't matter how it happened. We should've challenged the decision or something." Joe began to softly say aloud what was crossing his mind. "The judge wasn't even ring-side. That gym is a carnival; pokemon and humans actually sign up to be treated like that? Mom was right about them; except him, though. I wanted to go. I wanted to change, and it's happened. So, why did I still want to go? Why do I still want to go? I know she told me something about this. What was it? ... kons lera yudzvooj inte ansi ibeg--"
"Hot food now, cold food later, kids!" James shouted through the walls. While Joe's book fell to the floor, a startled splash indicated that Grace received the alert, also.
James ate in front of his television, delighted to do so without undesired accompaniment. Seeing live sports on one channel, he rightly concluded that Marianne would stay gone for at least the rest of the second half. Joe ate in the kitchen and was a third through when a still wet in a few places Grace paced in, drew out her chair, and joined him.
"Grace, I think you were in my head."
Grace squinted and gave him a strange look.
"I could hardly tell at first, but I think I've been feeling how you've been feeling since we got in the car. It's like you're letting it build up because you're not talking about it. We all wanted to win, but we didn't. The thing is, I don't want to care about losing, but you're caring, and it's making me care, too."
"I apologize," Grace whispered, "I wasn't trying to change your emotions. I'll never do that to you."
Joe finished his meal, and watched Grace finish her own.
Grace collected their bake-ware and placed it in the sink. She maintained a low tone. "I'll leave you alone so you can finish your homework without feeling what I'm projecting."
Joe approached her and took her hands. They felt ice cold. "No. I want you here, and to feel better. Not only because it's making me feel bad also--"
"Me too, a little," James added as he entered the kitchen to get a drink.
"--but because knowing you're unhappy is making me feel bad."
Grace moved one of his hands to a gill and the other to her frontal sensory node. James paused when she did this, but resumed his exit with a huff.
"I'm sorry, Joe. For the gym and for after. I like showing that I'm tougher than I look, and I love how competition has gotten you away from those video games and around some new friends who Burner and I have helped you impress." She lowered her gaze. "Losing tonight in front of so many people because I broke a stupid simple rule, though; I made you look like a poor trainer, or a fool for trusting me to choose my own strategies."
"Hey," Joe shook her a little to get her attention. "The three of them were fighting all summer long and getting experienced. We've been playing in the pool and doing house chores. You didn't win fair, accidentally, but other than that, you did beat them. That's more than I've ever actually asked of you." Joe noticed that she felt a little warmer. "I've got a few chapters to read, how about you sync with me and make what I'm reading feel real?"
She felt warmer still. "I'd like that. I'll join you in a minute."
Joe returned to his room, Grace sat beside James. "Uh, Dad, I'm sorry I brought everybody down like that. I'm used to feeling you guys, but I didn't realize that if I focused on how I felt, it might go the other way."
"And the moral of your story is, Grace?"
"Don't focus on negative emotions?"
"No, Grace. Don't forget that sharing is a two-way street. I've conceded not to hold you responsible for what you are, but you are responsible for how what you are affects us. If you can't keep your blue funk to your blue self, figure out how." James gestured at her chest with a saucy fork. "Wrap those things in tin foil if you have to. My son makes you happy. The vice versa is on your shoulders."
"He makes me very happy, and I want no less for him, but when I feel bad about something, I just do. I can't lie to myself and pretend to be feeling good, can I? I don't think it would work even if... I..." Grace trailed off, sensing that James was internally debating something drastic.
"Here's what I do sometimes." James snatched Grace's left hand and touched it to his right temple for a half second, wincing somewhat as he focused on a very well-packaged and deliberately-selected set of memories.
Grace blushed and brought her hand over her lips as James released it from his grip. "Wha--!" She unwittingly curled her toes and twisted her torso away from him slightly, defensively. "Dad? You just--"
"I explained it to you in a way I know you will understand perfectly."
Her skin remained ruddy and her gills almost glowed as her hand slowly glided down to rest on her ventral medial psionic attunement antenna. "I do understand." She rose and came about the love-seat, but leaned over its back and quickly gave James a kiss on his cheek with her palms on his shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered as she withdrew. He could not help but feel her sincerity. She drifted away toward her partner's room.
A purple ghost coasted in through the wall behind James' television. Her jewels were not showing any glow, and two prominent tendrils crossed before the bulk of her essence. "Do you know how disappointed I am in what you just did?"
James glanced at Marianne only for a moment. "I don't care, Ghost."
She slowly rotated upside-down and right-side-up as she approached him. "I should show you why you should." She faded away. "Goodnight, and, pleasant dreams."
Burner entered through the insecure rear hatch, letting controlled flame light his way. He moved slowly until he heard a noise, a feeble whimpering sound. Fearing the worst, Burner raced up the flights of stairs, skipping first one and then two steps with each stride. The steps he used crackled as they bore an unfamiliar strain that his ascent put upon them. He entered her room readied for battle, but there was none to be had. Alice was still whimpering, clutching her cover in a tightly-crumpled wad. He extinguished his wrists and placed them upon her, pulling her to face him. She feebly swung her fists against his arms and kicked him in his belly. "Alice," he asked as he withdrew, "what's wrong with you?"
Hearing her given name brought her forward to a less-troubled time. A time when her new Daddy asked the same question, seeing for the first time her experiencing the same sort of fit. Alice opened her eyes, disentangled herself from her bed-sheet, and let her aura sense find Burner in the dark. He could not see her smile a little. "Nothing now that you're here, B. I've got a little nightmare that likes to come back whenever I feel alone or worried. I'm not alone now," she took him by his claws and pulled him into her bed, "and I've got nothing to worry about."
As they settled in comfortably, Alice noticed something tinting Burner's aura. "B, something's bothering you, isn't it?"
"I'm a little disappointed that we lost at the gym tonight. Grace made a technical foul and was disqualified after I fell down."
"Oh. That's it? I was thinking maybe somebody got hurt."
"Nothing that they can't treat while we're in our balls."
"That's good. Balls. I haven't been in mine in a couple of years. Not since Daddy got in trouble, and a long time before that. We weren't battling so much at that point, and he'd rather pay for tonics than put me in a ball at a pokecenter. It was like he was worried I wouldn't come out again sometime."
"Has that ever happened?"
Alice took a moment to think about it. "I remember we overheard a rumor about that. There was a bad run of control chips some time ago, they weren't quite stable. Normally it wasn't a problem but if a pokemon was left in the ball for a really long time, eventually the image errors would add up and the ball would try to emergency-eject the pokemon. If it could, the ball would break itself and the pokemon would have to be recaptured, but if it couldn't because the ring was locked or the ball was clamped, the pokemon could die."
"Was he worried your ball was one of those?"
"I don't think so. I think he simply didn't like seeing me turned into energy and back again. There were a lot of things about pokemon Daddy didn't seem to be comfortable with. It was like we were something he was just starting to learn ab--"
Alice burst from their bed and ran toward her room's non-broken window, where her new cellular telephone and its little solar charging dock rested, guided by the light of its screen as it signaled an incoming call.
"Hello? Yes, this is Alice Ha--oh, yes, absolutely! Oh, god, thank you so... huh? Yes, I am. I... see." She listened for a short time. "No! You heard me." She began to tear up slightly. "I want to more than I want anything else in the world," she looked toward Burner's faint outline, "that I don't already have, but I'm not going to do that. I'm not a..." She listened for a short time. Then, she hung her head somewhat and spoke barely above a whisper. "Acceptable." She disconnected.
Alice turned on an electronic lantern that needed new batteries. "I have to do something tonight. I--it's another part of what I didn't want to talk about when you helped me with the door. Someday I will want to talk with you about it, but not... Burner?"
"Alice?"
She hopped into his arms and gripped him tightly, neither minding that her chest spike dug into his flesh. "When I come home later, I want to come home to an empty house. If you want to stay a while, have a drink or a snack, go ahead, but please, don't be here when I get back. Okay?"
He gripped her tightly, too, letting her spike pierce the skin beneath his feathers. "Whatever this is, Alice, it's not okay."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"So am I."
Burner re-ignited a wrist and lit their way as he escorted Alice down her stairs. He could feel her shiver gently for a moment when they exited the house. He knelt, and they shared a brief and dispassionate kiss. Neither had any enthusiasm for the moment. As she broke into a run down the sidewalk, instinct told him that he knew where she was going: Mrs. Song's.
Sam, crammed into his grovyle-sized bedding, shouted with a sneer, "Do you have to sub-vocalize like that?"
"Yes, I do. Shut it, it's not your literature grade on the line," Percival replied.
Sam grumbled and turned a page. He had looked over Percival's assignment earlier that evening; it was trivial compared to what the sceptile was reading for recreational purposes. Peace held for about a minute, before Sam re-approached the limit of his patience. Breaking a leaf from his tail, he marked his page and exchanged his book for his tree. He examined it closely beneath his heat lamps. The last of its vitality was now escaped, and he felt likewise in sympathy. In the manner of a one-pokemon funeral march, Sam plodded to Percival's window, slid it open smoothly, and discarded the pot's contents behind a bush beyond.
"Close that," Percival looked up to see that Sam was already lowering the window pane, "yeah. If I wanted outside air, I'd be outside."
Sam snarled as he walked by, and out of his trainer's room. He stopped to peer into a room beside. Frankie and his own true master were reading a simple book together. Sam said something privately, to which Frankie responded with a bleat and a nod. He continued on his way to the kitchen and withdrew a plastic cup of fruit salad from the refrigerator.
When Sam reached the front door, Delilah caught him: "Do you think you're going somewhere?"
Sam spoke with deliberately-selected words. "I want to get some fresh air, and Master did not want his window to be open."
With an eyebrow arched, Delilah hummed and turned away, waving him off.
Sam intended to circle the block at first, but without much traffic to challenge him, he started crossing streets instead of turning left when he met them. His thoughts wandered, too. Because of its annoying impositions, his body became a focus of thought. The weight of his developed tail, his broader stride, the nodules on his back that responded with a strange sensation each time he stepped beneath the glow of a sodium street lamp; it all annoyed him. It made him want to slouch and let his shoulders hang. He entertained the notion and realized that his tail became a proper counter-balance when he leaned forward. Then, he realized how easy it would be to transition between two- and four-footed strides. How undignified it would look, he thought, as he imagined himself doing so. Yet, he could think of no good reason not to give in to the temptation. He was alone right now. Discarding his plastic cup in the next waste-bin he found, Sam leaned, Sam dropped, and Sam ran. He darted into the street, and found an even faster pace when he did so before an approaching vehicle. He could not stop; whatever was motivating him now told him to keep running. Coroxon could not be that far away, could it? Light, dark, light, dark; the dingy pinkish-yellow sodium lamps flashed above him as a messy patterned blur. Except the next one, it was yellow and red for some reas--