For every mile of ocean crossed ☆ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
outstretched) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thingwithfeathers2017-10-29 10:33 am
outstretched) wrote in thingwithfeathers2017-10-29 10:33 am
Halcyon (Green/Red, gen, 4/5)
Title: Halcyon (4/5) DNftST #85 (Let Go)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,456 (this chapter); ~32k (total)
Genre: Romance, Drama, Character Study
Fandom: Pokémon
Pairings: Green/Red, background and implied pairings, a lot of gen
Warnings: This chapter- dissociative panic attacks, continuing family drama, continuing trauma recovery, POV switch, super unsafe swimming practices
Summary: Sometimes the sea itself is a gift. Sometimes the gift is something it brings you.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Fic Tag
AO3 Mirror. FFN Mirror. French Translation.
There's a wingull on the balcony.
Green approaches her with a slow step, learned over years of walking through tall grass. The wingull watches with measured caution, but shows no sign of flying away.
"You're quite the visitor, aren't you?" he murmurs, extending a hand. It's the wrong time of year for the wingull migration, but she doesn't seem to be a trained pokémon here on business, either.
The wingull eyes him for another moment before stepping onto his arm, webbed feet gentle on his skin. Not wild, then; not quite wild, anyway.
Green presses light fingertips against her breastbone. The muscle there is withered, a sign of starvation. "Did you come all the way from Hoenn?" he asks.
She clacks her beak once, tiredly.
Green reaches up to scratch the base of her skull, watching as her eyes droop with pleasure. "You followed him, didn't you?" His pitch drops to a lower register; "You did what I couldn't."
Wingull doesn't move, even after Green pulls his hand away. "You're welcome to stay a while," he says. "Seems like everyone else is these days." The wingull peeps softly, then turns to preen Green's hair.
--
Green and Red go to the docks to help the fishermen pull in the day's catch. It's hard, repetitive work, and the songs and shouts ring in Green's ears as he hauls the nets hand over hand to the shore. They're both welcome: Green is called embarrassing nicknames and caught in headlocks as often as he's praised for how quickly he picks up the work. If anyone else were around he'd die of embarrassment, but these people watched over him as a child, snuck him sweets when Daisy wasn't looking, and encouraged his boastful dream to be the best trainer in Kanto.
Red gets the same treatment, almost. Green senses restrained consideration in how they catch Red around the shoulders and ask if he's really feeling better, is he sure, shouldn't he take a break for a few minutes.
"It's good to have you back, kid," they both hear over and over.
The wingull blends in with the cacophonous crowd of pokémon—spearows and starmies, even an old magikarp. Wingull pecks at the pokéblocks the fishermen scatter on the wooden slats, but hops away to follow Red when he leaves to grab the next haul. When Red kneels down to inspect her, his eyes widen.
"She a friend of yours?" Green says, unable to hide a lopsided grin.
Red blinks, then nods, his smile small and disbelieving. The wingull flaps hard, kicking up a sudden breeze that makes Green flinch, and perches on Red's cap. Green snorts at the sight, but Red seems used to it, reaching up to make sure the wingull won't slip. She nibbles on his fingers and settles down, tucking her long wings against her body with a contented caw.
At the end of the day Green staggers home, laden with gifts for Lucy from the sailors who rely on her. Red follows, stopping periodically to wave at the fishermen below.
"You could offer to help, you know," Green grouses as he struggles up the long hill.
"You've got it," Red murmurs. He can't hide the twitch in the corner of his mouth when Green turns to glare at him.
"You're not an invalid anymore. Stop acting like it," Green says, but they're already at the front door. Green shoves some gifts into Red's arms anyway so he can fish out his keys. Red takes them with a grunt, but doesn't otherwise protest.
It's sunset, so Lucy is just waking up. Pikachu is tucked into the curl of her body and she noses at him, her expression more gentle than Green has ever seen. Pikachu greets her good morning with a cascade of tiny sparks before bounding over to Red. He stops short, though, and gives a happy cry when he sees the wingull, who leaves her roost to say hello. Lucy follows at a more stately pace, eyes widening as she sees the gifts in Green's hands.
He offers a sour poffin and she takes it with both paws, munching with her usual seriousness. "You really like Pikachu, huh," he says. She shoots him a look too well-mannered to be an eyeroll.
Red has never tried to touch Lucy, unlike Kris, who would run to hug her every time she came upstairs. Green usually doesn't either, but her coat looks a little dull, so he fetches an anti-static cloth. She endures the rubdown stoically while finishing her poffin, then reaches for another.
"They're from the sailors," he tells her. Lucy blinks, then smiles a little. Wingull is still full from the sailors' treats and only eyes the food with cursory interest, but Pikachu reaches for the poffin in her hands.
"They're not for you," Green snaps.
Lucy glares at him as she hands it to Pikachu, then reaches for a sitrus berry from the pile. When he starts to brush her again she turns her head, ignoring him.
He glances at Red, who's watching him with amusement and zero sympathy, and then at Pikachu, who's happily eating his new poffin. "Okay, whatever, he can eat all your food, sorry for trying to look out for you," he grumbles, and Red's shoulders shake with quiet laughter. "Turn this way for a second, I have to clean your gem."
She closes her eyes serenely, allowing Green to wipe the red stone on her forehead until it gleams. He finishes with a scratch behind her ears. She allows it for a moment, accepting this more sincere nonverbal apology, before turning toward the windows and the sea.
The sun has almost set, and she selects a few more berries from the pile before moving toward the center dais. Her tail glows with increasing brightness until its light blazes through the windows, then fades. Unlike the usual steady on and off, today's blinks form a pattern. It takes a moment for Green to recognize it as Morse code, and then longer until he translates it as Thank you.
Red and Green head back downstairs. After a few minutes, the lighthouse dims for longer than usual before flooding with a searing flash of light. It's so powerful that only Pikachu could have produced it. Green, dreamily staring out the window and waiting for the miso soup to reheat, curses as his vision sparkles with afterspots.
"Keep it down up there!" he shouts up the stairs, then hesitates. Red glances up at his sudden stillness.
"Gramps used to yell that from downstairs when my music got too loud," Green says, rubbing at his neck. "Ugh, whatever, let's eat."
--
"Oh, what a cutie!" Leaf says when she sees Wingull on Green's shoulder.
"She's lazy," Green says, tone full of begrudging affection. "She hitches rides everywhere instead of flying."
"That's not lazy," Leaf protests, "that's smart." She extends a hand and the wingull examines it for a moment, then hops over to perch on her forearm. "You should come with me for a while," she says. "I'm way more fun than either of them."
Wingull glances at Green, who shrugs. "Red likes her," he says. At that, she peeps and sidesteps her way up to Leaf's shoulder.
"Where are you headed today?" he asks.
"Fuchsia," Leaf replies. "Picking up some supplies for Daisy, visiting some friends. How about you?"
"Going to see Gramps," he says, trying to sound flippant.
Leaf stares at him.
"He asked me to help with this tynamo thing," Green elaborates, shoulders hunching. "He wanted to go over some stuff."
A worried look crosses her face. "At least you're not going alone. Eevee's with you, right?"
"No thanks to Gramps," he mutters. Her eyes turn pitying and Green winces. "Don't worry about it," he rushes to add. "I wanted to help. He's not forcing me."
"You can still back out."
Green shakes his head. "I already made up my mind." His voice softens. "Besides...it's important. Not the research stuff—I mean. Trying. With Gramps."
Leaf nods as if his broken sentences make sense. Maybe they do; they've been friends long enough. "Good luck," she says, patting him on the shoulder.
--
Green hasn't been inside his grandfather's lab in over ten years.
The air is the same as he remembers, a little too dry and a little too cold. His skin crawls as he stands there, surrounded by scenery he thought he'd never see again. Nothing has changed: the dim fluorescent tubes hanging from the vaulted ceiling, the bookshelves dusty in the corners and worn with heavy use. He doesn't know the newest batch of research aides, but he'd recognize the thick glasses and perpetual frowns anywhere. They recognize him the same way, by definition if not by detail: the Professor's grandson, let him pass.
Eevee sniffs the air but seems neither excited nor curious, sticking close to his side. Out of habit he walks straight to the back, where his grandfather's outdated CRT screens vie for space between sheaves of grant proposals and assorted technological odds and ends. A collection of first-gen PokéDexes gather dust, siblings to the one he still carries in his pocket. He swallows hard against a wave of irrational nerves.
"Green!" Professor Oak calls out, making him jump. He's beaming, beckoning Green over to the long table where he first met Eevee years ago. She hops up on the table, her paws wrinkling papers as she peers at the treat in Professor Oak's hands. He offers it to her but she doesn't move, glancing at Green instead.
"What'd you wanna show me, Gramps?" Green says.
He remembers saying that years ago, and he instinctively glances at the door, half-expecting to see Red's silhouette looming in the doorway. Even as a child, the shadow Red cast was larger than the boy himself.
He turns back at the sound of a pokémon being released from its ball.
"Thanks for coming. I want you to meet one of the key research associates on this project. This is Golduck, our resident monsoon expert."
"You look kinda familiar," Green says, extending a hand for a fistbump. "Oh! Yeah, I remember now. Daisy's been working with you to predict the rainy season, right?" It was Gramps' and Daisy's pet project to breed pokémon that could give seaside towns a way to plan for the monsoon floods. Golduck was the natural choice: water-types with an affinity for precognition, thanks to the red gems on their foreheads.
"Some of Golduck's relatives are better at telling how much rain we're going to receive, but he's the best at storm prediction," Professor Oak says. "He'll be on the ship to help give advance warning, and buy us time to get back to shore before any storms hit."
Still looking at Golduck, Green nods. “Good to be working with you."
The golduck nods back, narrow eyes speculative over his yellow beak. Then he turns away and vanishes back into his poké ball in a flash of light.
"Doesn't talk much, huh," Green asks, unsettled by the brusque once-over.
Professor Oak has moved away to rifle through the mountain of paperwork on his desk, and chuckles at Green's comment. It was easier when he was distracted by Golduck, but now that it's just him and his grandfather, he feels the familiar tension rising in his throat. "No, he's never been good with people. Amazing once he's in the water, though. Fastest swimmer in his group. Ah, found it!" He turns back towards Green, holding a USB stick in one hand. "You brought your tablet, didn't you? Hand it over."
Green stares at him. There's a pause. Then his grandfather says, "What's wrong, Green? You didn't forget it, did you?"
"You didn’t tell me to bring anything," Green says. Suddenly aware of his hunched shoulders and balled fists, he straightens his back and shoves his hands into his pockets.
When he looks up again, he finds his grandfather frowning at him. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped," he sighs. Green's jaw clenches. "Here, I'll lend you one of my tablets instead." He turns to call over a research aide.
Green closes his eyes and takes a hard breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He's faced down countless trainers, he tells himself. A building that crowds him in with childhood memories isn't a challenge at all.
He realizes, then, that he is lying. Even standing in the champion's room waiting for Red was nothing compared to this.
"You couldn't just e-mail this stuff to me?" he says. His voice snaps out of him, too loud for the lab's library-like hush. He’s taller than his grandfather, but not by much. He pulls himself straighter to maximize the difference and to stop himself from glancing around, remembering how as a child Professor Oak always told him to pay attention.
His grandfather turns back to him, smiling. "We're using the research vessel Professor Pax brought," he says, "and I wanted to show you the blueprints so you'd know your way around. I'll probably spend most of my time in the ship's lab, but you should stay closer to the deck. That's where you'll be the most useful."
"Is that what I am?" Green says, mouth on autopilot. "Useful?"
Professor Oak shoots him an odd look. "Of course you are, Green. We're not expecting smooth sailing out there. Your skills will come in handy." He claps a hand on Green's shoulder and it takes all of Green's willpower not to flinch away.
He feels a rising static fill the inside of his skull, drowning out his thoughts. "I need to go," he hears himself say.
Distantly he registers Eevee's low growl and feels her leap toward his chest. He catches her reflexively.
Professor Oak looks at Eevee, surprised. "You're upset. What's wrong?"
"I need to go," he repeats, "just e-mail me," and then he's striding toward the door.
If his grandfather calls after him, he can't hear it through the buzzing in his ears. He launches himself outside and hurries toward his grandfather's house with long, ground-eating strides. He's reaching to open the door before he freezes, realizing he doesn't live here anymore—his home is a fifteen minute walk in the opposite direction.
Before he can do anything else, the door swings open beneath his hand. Daisy stands there, frowning.
"Come here," she says, and seizes his wrist before he can speak. He barely sees the house before she pulls him into the backyard, where she sits him down in a wrought iron chair beside a similarly-styled table. An umbrella shades him from the afternoon sun. "Don't move," she says, and leaves for a moment.
It takes a moment of blank staring before his eyes refocus. He blinks, feeling disoriented. Eevee’s low growls rumble through his chest.
Daisy returns with a cup of hot tea. She sets it on the table and pulls his hands around it, and the temperature rouses him a little. He pulls back to huddle around Eevee, his eyes tracking the ripples on the tea's surface. "This is—"
"Take some deep breaths," she instructs, sitting next to him in the other chair.
Along with her quiet counting he breathes in for four beats, holds it for four, then breathes out for six. After a few rounds the roaring white noise starts to recede. His final exhale is shaky but a little relieved, and his tight hold on Eevee relaxes. In response, she stretches up a little to furiously groom his face.
"What," he says, wincing back, then: "Oh man, that hasn't happened since I was a kid." He pets Eevee until she bundles down into his arms again, her eyes watchful over the curve of his forearm. Daisy is still searching his face, her brow furrowed. "I'm okay," Green reassures her. "Well. I'm better. Thanks."
Whatever she sees in his expression seems to satisfy her. She nods to herself before asking, "What happened? You haven't visited once since you moved in, and now you show up looking like that..."
Green grimaces. "I went to the lab," he says. "I don't really know what happened. It just...it was like I was eleven and Gramps was disappointed in me all over again. I kept waiting for, I don't know, for him to ask what my name was. He never forgot your name," he mutters.
"I look just like mom," Daisy says. She glances at the ground.
Green rakes a hand through his hair, suddenly disgusted with himself. "Sorry."
"It's not your fault," Daisy says. "It's not anyone's fault, really. Grandfather works too hard, so he doesn't have any room in his brain left for details." It's the same thing she's always said.
Green's eyes narrow. "Don't you get tired of sticking up for him? What has he ever done to deserve it?"
"He took us in," Daisy replies. Her hands are folded in her lap and her expression is forcefully serene. "He took us in and shared what he had with us. He taught us everything he knows about pokémon. He gave me the money to start my business, and helped establish you in the Viridian Gym. He's not a bad man, Green."
"I know he’s not," Green snaps. "But that doesn't mean he's good."
"He's family," Daisy persists.
"So what?" Green mutters, hunching in his chair.
"Drink your tea," she says, ending the argument. They've had it before, and neither wins it. Still grumbling, he lifts the mug to his mouth and slurps a sip to dispel the water's heat.
Daisy watches for a moment before squaring her shoulders, as if making up her mind. "Well, no matter the reason, I'm really glad you visited," she says. "I wanted to show you what I've done while you were away. Doesn't it look different?"
Green blinks, looking around. He remembers the backyard as unremarkable expanse of overgrown grass, tufted with seed in the spring and beaten down by rain after the monsoons. Now, it's a field of variegated flowers with a stone walkway woven through, dotted here and there with beautifully groomed pokémon he doesn't recognize. There's a small pool in the middle, too: he can hear the soft rush of a decorative waterfall.
"Wow," he breathes. "You did all this? It's awesome." Daisy beams.
"Come on," she says, taking his hand and coaxing him to his feet. She leads him across the flagstone path—a gift from Brock, she says—and points at the decorative goldeen in the pond, metallic scales shimmering in the uncertain light—gifts from Misty. Erika helped design the garden and procured the flower seeds, but Daisy grew them all herself.
"I had no idea you knew so many League members," he says.
"You kept bringing me as your plus one to all those fancy parties," she says, smiling. "I had to talk to someone."
She brings him inside the house, which has also changed. The downstairs area is dedicated to her growing business, which is now a full spa and beauty salon: massages are only one of the many services she offers, and the pokémon lounging outside are some of her customers. She even has an employee, a friendly girl from Johto whose grandparents run the daycare in Goldenrod City. She winks at Green but doesn't stop grooming a snubbull's coat to a lustrous sheen.
"Are twintails, like, a Johto thing?" Green says, staring at her brown hair.
"You should ask her sometime," Daisy replies.
The tour finishes upstairs, passing Daisy's room to stop at the closed door that was once Green's. He can't stop himself from tensing, but Daisy opens it and—the place is unrecognizable. The walls are unadorned, the space filled with stacks of boxes and supplies.
"It’s my storeroom now," she says, and he remembers moving all of his stuff out a few months after becoming gym leader. He got rid of almost everything over the years, but a few things are still in storage. He blinks, realizing he has enough room in the lighthouse now: he should check if any of it is worth keeping.
"You've got a nice setup, huh?" he says, looking around.
Daisy is looking straight at him, and he recognizes his own stubbornness in the set of her mouth. "I do," she says. "Green, we're not kids anymore. Things aren't how they used to be. So visit more often, okay?"
Green shuffles his feet against the carpet. "Okay," he says. "Sorry."
Daisy sighs and pulls him into a hug, careful to leave room for Eevee, still in Green's arms. She tucks his face into the crook of her neck, cradling the back of his head with one hand. "I love you," she says. "Don't ever forget that."
"I never forget," he says, and it's mostly the truth.
--
While Green is out, Red takes Pikachu to the beach.
Once Pikachu realizes where they're going, he hesitates. Red takes a few more steps before looking over his shoulder, waiting for Pikachu.
Just a walk, Red says. Like last time, with Green and Eevee.
Pikachu's ears twitch, considering, before he shakes his head no. Red nods and turns back, the ocean glimmering behind him.
He extends his hand, and with the familiar cue, Pikachu leaps up to his usual perch on Red's shoulder. He's started to regain the weight he lost, and his fur is soft and full of new static. Red pets Pikachu's neck, reassuring and steadying him simultaneously, before turning to the narrow trail near the cliff's edge.
Red is in no real hurry. He tilts his face up to the sun and takes deep breaths of the salt-tinged air, before kneeling to watch the rattata play by the side of the path. The rattata living near Pallet have always been half-tame, unbothered by humans as long as they don't get too close. Pikachu ignores them with a huff and clambers across Red's shoulders instead. Red winces as Pikachu's claws catch on the tender skin of his nape, but Pikachu doesn't notice as he usually would. His attention is wholly focused on the beach, even as his tail lashes back and forth.
Do you want to go to the beach?
Pikachu hesitates, and then shakes his head slowly. His tail taps Red's head, and when Red turns to look he points across the water.
Obliging Pikachu, Red sits at the cliff's edge. Pikachu hops down beside him and lets Red run reassuring fingers through his fur. Satisfied by the viewpoint, he doesn't strain to see like before; instead, he leans against Red and watches the advancing tide.
This isn't Pikachu's first challenge while at Red's side, though Red can't forget he's responsible. But the two of them have overcome everything together. Pikachu always looks forward, away from what happened and toward what can be done. They look out across the ocean together, quiet.
Red thinks, We can do this, too.
--
After the ill-fated visit to his grandfather's lab, Green spends the rest of the week meeting with the other two professors involved in the project. They assume he's been sent by Professor Oak as a liaison, a more personal touch than the business e-mails and phone calls of the past few months. Green bristles at the assumption but doesn't correct it, either.
Elm, the second professor, sends one of his many research aides as a proxy. When Green visits, the poor man is so sleep deprived that he struggles to form full sentences; he admires Professor Oak deeply, which isn't offensive as much as it is boring. The third professor, however, comes in person. She's a lively woman whose area of expertise is Unovan marine biology, and Green first finds her on the docks at dawn, asking the fishermen about ocean conditions.
"Practically a local, huh," he says, grin lopsided.
"As if,” she says with an honest smile. “They wouldn't even talk to me until I proved I knew my stuff. You must be Green? Call me Pax."
Green learns more about marine life in the next two hours than he had his entire life. "No one understands tynamo's migration pattern," she says. "For a long time, we didn't even know they were a fish pokémon. We classified them as something else totally—for a while we thought they were worm pokémon. You can find tynamo and eelektrik in secluded caves in Unova, but we didn't know where they spawned until we tracked one A. electrum all the way to the warm waters off the coast of Vermillion. We've found both marine and freshwater tynamo species, but they all come right here to breed. Even the east and west sea varieties of gastrodon breed in different places, so tynamo are quite unique!"
He texts Kris that evening: Did you know eelektross are catadromous?
You've been talking to Professor Pax, Kris immediately replies. Isn't she amazing? She teaches at Humilau University. I'd love to take one of her classes.
You should come visit. I'll introduce you.
I can't. My thesis defense is really soon. But I wouldn't mind you putting in a good word for me! ^_~
A few days later, he sends her the professor's contact information and her reply is just !!!. He snorts, thinking Kris and Red would probably get along.
--
Red sits on the couch with his feet tucked beneath him, watching Green stuff a fanny pack with small but necessary things: water, sunscreen, a few pokeblocks.
"I don't think we'll get pokégear reception out there," Green says, "but we'll be in radio contact with the lab...there's leftovers in the fridge." He snags sunglasses from the table and tucks them into his shirt collar, before glancing at Red and seeing the tension around his mouth. "What?"
"I want to go," Red mumbles.
Green raises an eyebrow. "It's not exactly a pleasure cruise." He whistles and Eevee comes bounding up onto his shoulder. He scratches her chin before turning back to Red, who's still staring. Green sighs. "Besides, Pikachu still doesn't like the ocean, does he?"
Red blinks and looks at Pikachu, who's curled up in his lap. Pikachu shakes his head once and noses beneath Red's hand until his eyes are covered, making a soft frustrated noise. Red pets him before looking back at Green, his expression less stubborn.
"So that's that," Green says, confirming. "Listen, someone needs to stay here anyway.” Green gives a crooked smile and a small two-fingered salute. "Keep an eye on me out there, okay?"
Red's expression flattens, unimpressed, as always, by Green's posturing. "Take Wingull," he persists.
Green recognizes the mulish set of his mouth and the clear challenge in his gaze. Something inside of him rises up, an instinctual desire to argue—before he shakes his head a little, and squashes it.
"Sure, why not?" he says, shrugging. "Wingull are supposed to be good luck on fishing trips, anyway."
Red's expression clears and he nods.
Green pats his pockets and fanny pack, making sure he hasn't forgotten anything, before he turns to the door. "Well, see you later," he says.
The moment they step outside he hears a piercing cry overhead, and Wingull swoops down in front of them. Green only jumps a little, he swears, but he glances around anyway to make sure no one saw.
Of course he finds Red by the window, one hand lifted to push the curtain out of the way. The corner of his mouth twitches with poorly concealed amusement.
Green glares at him and turns in a huff to march down the hill. He feels Red's gaze on his back, and the weight of the attention makes him lift his chin a little higher and pull his back a little straighter. "We're gonna find so many tynamo," he grumbles to Eevee. "We'll show him."
Wingull gives another cry, then soars into the hazy sky. Green whistles again, just to hear Eevee chirp in response, and heads toward the docks.
--
They start a few weeks before the rainy season begins. It's too early for tynamo, but it gives them time to fine-tune their equipment and establish a baseline for their measurements. Golduck comes too, but he seems bored, drowsing in the heat.
The Unovan ship RV Sea Ruby is huge, its red and white sides gleaming in the sun. Instead of sweltering on deck he opts to ride on the back of his pidgeot, one eye always on the ship. Wingull keeps pace in the air, soaring over and under them as they fly, and a headset keeps him connected to the boat. Teams of search pokémon help with their echolocation: Elm's team brought graceful mantines, and Oak's lab puts the tentacruel overcrowding the local waters to good use, but the Unovan team is the most striking. When a horde of seismitoad erupt from their poké balls and plop onto the deck, even Green flinches away.
"They're cute, aren't they?" Professor Pax says, slapping one on their shoulder. It gives a croaky giggle, covering its mouth with one huge hand. "Best search-and-find pokémon in the water, hands down."
"Seismitoad take work to evolve," Green says, admiring. The professor beams.
Silver is in the sky too, upon Green's invitation and Kris's insistence. It's not exactly a day off, but Silver wouldn't have accepted a less stressful excuse to leave the gym. He answers Green's questions as they fly, voice dry and terse over the headset: the gym is fine. He's realized most League paperwork is pointless but does it anyway, just to make someone else waste their time processing it. He texts Kris sometimes. Their conversation is periodically interrupted by the appearance of wild pokémon, with Green and Silver swooping down to help chase them off.
As the sun sets, Silver flies home and Green lands with Pidgeot and Wingull on the deck of the Sea Ruby. The return trip lets Green experience the lighthouse beacon from the open water. He stands beside Wingull at the railing, wind ruffling his hair as he watches Lucy’s light cut through the evening, illuminating the black water around them with flash after flash.
He's too far to tell, but he wonders if Red is standing on the lighthouse balcony, watching the ship lights approach, just as Green is watching him.
Home, he thinks.
--
Pikachu spends a lot of time staring out the window, even though they go to the beach every day. At first Red wonders if he misses Eevee, but then realizes he's looking at the ocean. Pikachu has never been good at accepting setbacks.
After a few days, he trots to the back door and looks expectantly over his shoulder. Red puts down his game controller and opens the door.
Pikachu stays close as they walk to the beach. Red's path drifts closer to the ocean, half his attention on Pikachu, half focused on syncing his breath with the waves. His mind drifts: training regimens, new attack techniques, the humidity that weighs down the air. It's reminiscent of Hoenn, how the entire region moved slower in deference to the relentless heat.
Pikachu chirps a warning and Red pauses. He looks down to find the ocean soaking into his sneakers. He looks at Pikachu, who grumbles.
On a hunch, Red calls out another pokémon. Lapras charges into the ocean without a backwards glance, and Pikachu watches him go with a mix of worry and frustration. He calls out to Lapras, who responds with a musical cry and turns back toward shore, shell rising out of the water like an island.
Pikachu dips a paw into the water and flinches at the sensation. He shivers from the cold, lifts his paw, then slams it back into the water, making a small splash. He calls to Lapras again, his voice louder, more strident.
Red remembers—when Lapras learned Surf it was Pikachu, not Red, who was his first rider.
Pikachu rises onto his hind legs and takes a hesitant step into the water, getting used to the pull of the surf on his body, and then another. His cheeks spark with nervous lightning before he tamps it down, not wanting to hurt Lapras, who hums encouragement and lowers his head toward Pikachu. Pikachu calls back and takes a few more steps, ears pressed back, until he rests his paw on Lapras's muzzle.
Lapras pushes his head forward against Pikachu's stomach, flipping him over to land between his ears. It's a familiar move, and Pikachu runs down his neck and onto his shell before sitting up on his haunches blinking, surprised by his own daring.
Red listens to Pikachu's happy cry, Lapras’s sonorous hum, and remembers Green and his mom laughing together in the kitchen as they worked on some new recipe. Red is content anywhere, as long as he's with his pokémon, but Pallet is more comfortable than anywhere else. Living in Pallet isn't quiet, but maybe he doesn't need the quiet anymore.
--
Green is woken by his cell phone going off beside his ear. He slaps at it, sending it clattering and ringing off the mattress, then hauls himself to the edge of the bed to flail around for it. He's missed the call by the time he finds it and he squints at the screen, eyes protesting the artificial brightness.
"Ugh, Gramps," he croaks, but he only hesitates a moment before he calls back.
"Green!" Professor Oak sounds disgustingly awake, considering the sun hasn't risen. "It's rude not to answer when someone calls, you know. What if it was important?"
"If it was important you'd be getting to the point instead of talking my ear off right now," Green snarls.
Professor Oak pauses for a long second, long enough for Green to realize what he just said. "Oh. Uh. Sorry, I—"
"You know, Green," his grandfather interrupts, "I know we don't have the easiest relationship, but that's no reason to speak disrespectfully to—"
"I'm sorry," Green practically bawls into the phone. His grandfather falls into a brittle silence and Green groans, rolling onto his back and slapping a palm against his forehead. "I didn't mean—"
"I am trying, Green!" Oak says, tone wavering. Green has never heard him sound like that before. "I would appreciate a little patience and understanding."
"Are you—crying?"
"Of course not!" Professor Oak snaps. "This is ridiculous. I was calling to tell you that Golduck says the monsoon will start today, so we're not going out. Stay home!"
His grandfather hangs up before he can respond.
Green stares at his phone for a second before growling, "Ugh, it's too early for this," and burying his face into the pillow.
--
Later that morning, with Pikachu a sleepy bundle on his shoulder, Red wanders into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks, staring at Green.
Since they started living together, Red has redeveloped his habit of noticing Green whenever he's near. It's worsened over the last month until Green pulls his gaze wherever he goes, leaving a prickling, nervous feeling that builds in his chest the longer he looks. Usually Green calls him on it with teasing or self-aggrandizing praise; today, though, he doesn't notice, distracted by the music playing through his earbuds.
Red faintly hears the audio leaking through, some kind of upbeat boyband tune. Green's cooking something in a pan and bopping along, singing under his breath as he works. His slippered feet are doing a little sidestep shuffle. Red doesn't need to see his face to know he's smiling.
It's Eevee who notices them first. She sits up from her bed on the windowsill and Green turns to see what she's looking at. His eyes brighten when he sees Red before his smile turns cockily self-conscious. He rests a hand on one hip, the other holding the sizzling pan. Green is happy to see him, he realizes, caught off-guard but not embarrassed, as if Red’s welcome here.
"About time you woke up," Green says, while Red continues to stare. "Hungry?"
Green's hair is growing out a little, but it looks no less ridiculous when backlit by the dim morning light. Red walks toward him, one deliberate step after another, watching Green's grin fade into something nervous, almost shy.
"You made me breakfast," Red murmurs.
Green snorts. "I've been making you breakfast since you moved in," he says. "You just noticed?"
Red takes another step, close enough to pull the pan from Green's hand and set it back onto the glass top stove to finish cooking. Reaching past Green brings their bodies flush, brings Green so near their cheeks are nearly touching.
Green takes a surprised breath and even that small movement makes their clothes brush. Red pulls back just enough to look Green in the eye and sees the want that he's only caught in glimpses made plain.
Green licks his lips. Red doesn't hide how he watches the quick peek of his tongue. "Um, Red, I—"
Red kisses him without fanfare: a slight lean forward, a gentle press of his mouth to Green's. Green doesn't move, doesn't even breathe, until Red pulls away.
"Thanks for breakfast," he whispers.
"Pikachu is on your shoulder," Green hisses, color rising high in his cheeks.
Pikachu and Red glance at each other, then shrug at the same time.
"Move, move," Green says, shooing Pikachu until he hops onto the table with a huff. Then he hurries to kiss Red again, clumsy with eagerness, sliding his mouth over Red's until they’re breathing heavily and Green is laughing with disbelief and slight hysteria, tangling his fingers in Red's shirt collar.
"You're welcome," he breathes against Red's lips, and fumbles behind him to turn the stove off before breakfast burns.
--
After a week, Golduck decides it's safe to go out again. Wingull soars up to land on a high railing at the top of the boat while the crew boards, the strong wind ruffling her feathers. She ignores Green when he beckons her inside.
"You’re the lookout, huh?" he calls. She fluffs up in reply, never taking her eyes from the churning water.
The heat inside the ship's cabin is oppressive, and the air is thick with discussion of the latest studies and theories. Professor Oak often solicits Green's opinions and listens to his responses, but soon the academic talk turns stale, becoming so theoretical that Green's independent research can't help him understand it. He fidgets, finding his dislike of being overlooked is as strong as ever, and tries not to look at his grandfather too much.
Eventually he wanders out with Eevee on his shoulders, the heated discussion about gorebyss patterns still droning in his headset, and climbs ladders and stairs until he reaches the deck. The wind pushes him back immediately and he crouches to keep balance, ears full of the roaring ocean. He clings to the railing and looks around until he sees Wingull, her wings and head hunkered down against the wind.
The rough conditions make their mission seem urgent, less like an ocean jaunt and more like the dangerous research that it is. It's hard for him to forget he's responsible for protecting the crew if they find the dangerous pokémon they're hunting for. You're one of the top trainers in Kanto, he remembers his grandfather saying.
"You're not the only lookout," he shouts to her. "We've all got jobs to do."
Wingull glances over but doesn't answer. Green grins, feeling his senses slowly awaken, feeling the itch for battle beneath his skin.
A few pokémon make things interesting: a swarm of tentacruel, who bypass their researcher brethren to try to heave themselves onto the deck, and a pod of kingdra who assault the boat with a barrage of Bubblebeams. Green takes to leaving Gyarados out of his ball and standing in the center of his loose coils, one hand resting on the smooth scales of his body as the pokémon arches upward. Gyarados's head blocks out the sky above and he breathes out warm puffs of air that stir Green's hair, the two of them watchful as they scan the sea. Wingull, with her higher vantage point, gives him a crucial few seconds of warning, and he learns to listen for her raspy cry.
After a few hours, the only excitement left is the uneven tossing of the ship. The squawk of conversation in his ear doesn't carry any pertinent updates, and his excitement dims to a wary alertness.
Hours pass and still nothing. Eventually Golduck gives a wary bark, and at his signal they turn back toward shore. Green retreats to the covered observation deck at the boat’s crown and presses his hands to the glass as the ship rocks; the ocean is slate-gray and white with foam, its color reflecting the clouds, and—boring.
He thinks of Red. He imagines him sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a sweating glass of iced green tea in his hands, gazing out the window at the ocean. If he closes his eyes he can hear distant thunder rumble and he imagines how it sounds to Red, far-off enough to only be a whisper.
Longing hits him like a knife to the chest. He's glad, suddenly so glad, that Red is safe at home and not trapped out here, but he also misses him in some bone-deep way that makes it hard to breathe. Without thought his hand pulls back into a loose fist against his chest, eyes fixed on the wingull just outside the glass.
--
Lucy's light blazes more fiercely the thicker the stormclouds grow.
Electric-types grow stronger during monsoon season, and Pikachu is no exception. He grows restless, unused to the indoors after years of traveling. After a week, even Lucy can't bear it any longer and she kicks him out of the beacon room, leaving Pikachu to grumble and pace the floor. Green is out visiting Daisy, so he can't depend on Eevee to distract Pikachu, either.
Let's go, Red says.
This time, Pikachu runs ahead of him to the beach.
Red tries to borrow Green's raincoat and finds it small in the shoulders and short in the wrists. The rain stopped a few hours ago, so he wanders out in his usual shirt and hat. They’re greeted by a peal of thunder when they reach the beach, and Pikachu shouts back, delighted as he sprints down the shore.
Red runs after him until fighting the wind drains his strength. He stops to catch his breath, watching Pikachu's dwindling figure, then takes a sharp inhale when his path careens toward the water. His hand darts toward Blastoise's poké ball as Pikachu dives in—only to freeze when he's tossed back onto the sand seconds later, tumbling and sparking with indignation.
Pikachu leaps to his feet, shaking his head to clear his ears before he diving back in. Red sprints toward him, exhaustion forgotten, one hand trembling as it hovers over the poké balls at his belt.
Pikachu repeats the process again and again with no change—a yelling charge into the high waves, only to be spat right back out again. But Pikachu seems unharmed by it, and his cries shift from challenge to excitement as Red nears. Pikachu's stride changes from quick steps to bounding leaps, trying to clear the tall waves. Red slows to a jog, his eyes fixed on the yellow dot bobbing in the sea, telling himself to trust him, trust him.
He realizes Pikachu is not the only one afraid of the ocean.
Pikachu's voice is faint over the roar of thunder, but Red still hears him. He drifts further out, luring Red to wade in after him until he's angled sideways and half-crouching, pummeled by wave after wave.
It's not pleasant. The fright coursing through him mirrors the cold water dragging against his legs. But a full minute passes and he can still hear Pikachu and he's still standing, still breathing, still here.
Pikachu! he calls, afraid but no longer overwhelmed.
Many people asked Red why he kept traveling, why he would vanish into the deep wild for months at a time. He could never explain it was the pursuit of greater context, a hunt for this exact sensation: being alone with his pokémon in the churning tide, surrounded by nature's ferocity, so overwhelmed by its magnitude it feels like not existing at all. Red's concerns dwindle to nothing in the face of the sublime.
Pikachu comes tumbling back in with the next wave and Red plucks him from the water, cradling him to his chest. His chirruping laughter rings in Red's ears as he walks toward land, pulling them both free from the tide. Pikachu lunges up to bump his nose against Red's, trilling with savage joy. Red smiles, silent but no less happy, before they turn toward home.
Red has scaled mountains and fought legendary pokémon, and he has always survived. In the end, the ocean is no different.
// written April 2017 to June 2017
Illustration by Ame // Full Size
(Please full view, the details are incredible!)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,456 (this chapter); ~32k (total)
Genre: Romance, Drama, Character Study
Fandom: Pokémon
Pairings: Green/Red, background and implied pairings, a lot of gen
Warnings: This chapter- dissociative panic attacks, continuing family drama, continuing trauma recovery, POV switch, super unsafe swimming practices
Summary: Sometimes the sea itself is a gift. Sometimes the gift is something it brings you.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Fic Tag
AO3 Mirror. FFN Mirror. French Translation.
What can you learn from your opponent? More than you think. ...
Let's admit, without apology, what we do to each other.
—Richard Siken
There's a wingull on the balcony.
Green approaches her with a slow step, learned over years of walking through tall grass. The wingull watches with measured caution, but shows no sign of flying away.
"You're quite the visitor, aren't you?" he murmurs, extending a hand. It's the wrong time of year for the wingull migration, but she doesn't seem to be a trained pokémon here on business, either.
The wingull eyes him for another moment before stepping onto his arm, webbed feet gentle on his skin. Not wild, then; not quite wild, anyway.
Green presses light fingertips against her breastbone. The muscle there is withered, a sign of starvation. "Did you come all the way from Hoenn?" he asks.
She clacks her beak once, tiredly.
Green reaches up to scratch the base of her skull, watching as her eyes droop with pleasure. "You followed him, didn't you?" His pitch drops to a lower register; "You did what I couldn't."
Wingull doesn't move, even after Green pulls his hand away. "You're welcome to stay a while," he says. "Seems like everyone else is these days." The wingull peeps softly, then turns to preen Green's hair.
--
Green and Red go to the docks to help the fishermen pull in the day's catch. It's hard, repetitive work, and the songs and shouts ring in Green's ears as he hauls the nets hand over hand to the shore. They're both welcome: Green is called embarrassing nicknames and caught in headlocks as often as he's praised for how quickly he picks up the work. If anyone else were around he'd die of embarrassment, but these people watched over him as a child, snuck him sweets when Daisy wasn't looking, and encouraged his boastful dream to be the best trainer in Kanto.
Red gets the same treatment, almost. Green senses restrained consideration in how they catch Red around the shoulders and ask if he's really feeling better, is he sure, shouldn't he take a break for a few minutes.
"It's good to have you back, kid," they both hear over and over.
The wingull blends in with the cacophonous crowd of pokémon—spearows and starmies, even an old magikarp. Wingull pecks at the pokéblocks the fishermen scatter on the wooden slats, but hops away to follow Red when he leaves to grab the next haul. When Red kneels down to inspect her, his eyes widen.
"She a friend of yours?" Green says, unable to hide a lopsided grin.
Red blinks, then nods, his smile small and disbelieving. The wingull flaps hard, kicking up a sudden breeze that makes Green flinch, and perches on Red's cap. Green snorts at the sight, but Red seems used to it, reaching up to make sure the wingull won't slip. She nibbles on his fingers and settles down, tucking her long wings against her body with a contented caw.
At the end of the day Green staggers home, laden with gifts for Lucy from the sailors who rely on her. Red follows, stopping periodically to wave at the fishermen below.
"You could offer to help, you know," Green grouses as he struggles up the long hill.
"You've got it," Red murmurs. He can't hide the twitch in the corner of his mouth when Green turns to glare at him.
"You're not an invalid anymore. Stop acting like it," Green says, but they're already at the front door. Green shoves some gifts into Red's arms anyway so he can fish out his keys. Red takes them with a grunt, but doesn't otherwise protest.
It's sunset, so Lucy is just waking up. Pikachu is tucked into the curl of her body and she noses at him, her expression more gentle than Green has ever seen. Pikachu greets her good morning with a cascade of tiny sparks before bounding over to Red. He stops short, though, and gives a happy cry when he sees the wingull, who leaves her roost to say hello. Lucy follows at a more stately pace, eyes widening as she sees the gifts in Green's hands.
He offers a sour poffin and she takes it with both paws, munching with her usual seriousness. "You really like Pikachu, huh," he says. She shoots him a look too well-mannered to be an eyeroll.
Red has never tried to touch Lucy, unlike Kris, who would run to hug her every time she came upstairs. Green usually doesn't either, but her coat looks a little dull, so he fetches an anti-static cloth. She endures the rubdown stoically while finishing her poffin, then reaches for another.
"They're from the sailors," he tells her. Lucy blinks, then smiles a little. Wingull is still full from the sailors' treats and only eyes the food with cursory interest, but Pikachu reaches for the poffin in her hands.
"They're not for you," Green snaps.
Lucy glares at him as she hands it to Pikachu, then reaches for a sitrus berry from the pile. When he starts to brush her again she turns her head, ignoring him.
He glances at Red, who's watching him with amusement and zero sympathy, and then at Pikachu, who's happily eating his new poffin. "Okay, whatever, he can eat all your food, sorry for trying to look out for you," he grumbles, and Red's shoulders shake with quiet laughter. "Turn this way for a second, I have to clean your gem."
She closes her eyes serenely, allowing Green to wipe the red stone on her forehead until it gleams. He finishes with a scratch behind her ears. She allows it for a moment, accepting this more sincere nonverbal apology, before turning toward the windows and the sea.
The sun has almost set, and she selects a few more berries from the pile before moving toward the center dais. Her tail glows with increasing brightness until its light blazes through the windows, then fades. Unlike the usual steady on and off, today's blinks form a pattern. It takes a moment for Green to recognize it as Morse code, and then longer until he translates it as Thank you.
Red and Green head back downstairs. After a few minutes, the lighthouse dims for longer than usual before flooding with a searing flash of light. It's so powerful that only Pikachu could have produced it. Green, dreamily staring out the window and waiting for the miso soup to reheat, curses as his vision sparkles with afterspots.
"Keep it down up there!" he shouts up the stairs, then hesitates. Red glances up at his sudden stillness.
"Gramps used to yell that from downstairs when my music got too loud," Green says, rubbing at his neck. "Ugh, whatever, let's eat."
--
"Oh, what a cutie!" Leaf says when she sees Wingull on Green's shoulder.
"She's lazy," Green says, tone full of begrudging affection. "She hitches rides everywhere instead of flying."
"That's not lazy," Leaf protests, "that's smart." She extends a hand and the wingull examines it for a moment, then hops over to perch on her forearm. "You should come with me for a while," she says. "I'm way more fun than either of them."
Wingull glances at Green, who shrugs. "Red likes her," he says. At that, she peeps and sidesteps her way up to Leaf's shoulder.
"Where are you headed today?" he asks.
"Fuchsia," Leaf replies. "Picking up some supplies for Daisy, visiting some friends. How about you?"
"Going to see Gramps," he says, trying to sound flippant.
Leaf stares at him.
"He asked me to help with this tynamo thing," Green elaborates, shoulders hunching. "He wanted to go over some stuff."
A worried look crosses her face. "At least you're not going alone. Eevee's with you, right?"
"No thanks to Gramps," he mutters. Her eyes turn pitying and Green winces. "Don't worry about it," he rushes to add. "I wanted to help. He's not forcing me."
"You can still back out."
Green shakes his head. "I already made up my mind." His voice softens. "Besides...it's important. Not the research stuff—I mean. Trying. With Gramps."
Leaf nods as if his broken sentences make sense. Maybe they do; they've been friends long enough. "Good luck," she says, patting him on the shoulder.
--
Green hasn't been inside his grandfather's lab in over ten years.
The air is the same as he remembers, a little too dry and a little too cold. His skin crawls as he stands there, surrounded by scenery he thought he'd never see again. Nothing has changed: the dim fluorescent tubes hanging from the vaulted ceiling, the bookshelves dusty in the corners and worn with heavy use. He doesn't know the newest batch of research aides, but he'd recognize the thick glasses and perpetual frowns anywhere. They recognize him the same way, by definition if not by detail: the Professor's grandson, let him pass.
Eevee sniffs the air but seems neither excited nor curious, sticking close to his side. Out of habit he walks straight to the back, where his grandfather's outdated CRT screens vie for space between sheaves of grant proposals and assorted technological odds and ends. A collection of first-gen PokéDexes gather dust, siblings to the one he still carries in his pocket. He swallows hard against a wave of irrational nerves.
"Green!" Professor Oak calls out, making him jump. He's beaming, beckoning Green over to the long table where he first met Eevee years ago. She hops up on the table, her paws wrinkling papers as she peers at the treat in Professor Oak's hands. He offers it to her but she doesn't move, glancing at Green instead.
"What'd you wanna show me, Gramps?" Green says.
He remembers saying that years ago, and he instinctively glances at the door, half-expecting to see Red's silhouette looming in the doorway. Even as a child, the shadow Red cast was larger than the boy himself.
He turns back at the sound of a pokémon being released from its ball.
"Thanks for coming. I want you to meet one of the key research associates on this project. This is Golduck, our resident monsoon expert."
"You look kinda familiar," Green says, extending a hand for a fistbump. "Oh! Yeah, I remember now. Daisy's been working with you to predict the rainy season, right?" It was Gramps' and Daisy's pet project to breed pokémon that could give seaside towns a way to plan for the monsoon floods. Golduck was the natural choice: water-types with an affinity for precognition, thanks to the red gems on their foreheads.
"Some of Golduck's relatives are better at telling how much rain we're going to receive, but he's the best at storm prediction," Professor Oak says. "He'll be on the ship to help give advance warning, and buy us time to get back to shore before any storms hit."
Still looking at Golduck, Green nods. “Good to be working with you."
The golduck nods back, narrow eyes speculative over his yellow beak. Then he turns away and vanishes back into his poké ball in a flash of light.
"Doesn't talk much, huh," Green asks, unsettled by the brusque once-over.
Professor Oak has moved away to rifle through the mountain of paperwork on his desk, and chuckles at Green's comment. It was easier when he was distracted by Golduck, but now that it's just him and his grandfather, he feels the familiar tension rising in his throat. "No, he's never been good with people. Amazing once he's in the water, though. Fastest swimmer in his group. Ah, found it!" He turns back towards Green, holding a USB stick in one hand. "You brought your tablet, didn't you? Hand it over."
Green stares at him. There's a pause. Then his grandfather says, "What's wrong, Green? You didn't forget it, did you?"
"You didn’t tell me to bring anything," Green says. Suddenly aware of his hunched shoulders and balled fists, he straightens his back and shoves his hands into his pockets.
When he looks up again, he finds his grandfather frowning at him. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped," he sighs. Green's jaw clenches. "Here, I'll lend you one of my tablets instead." He turns to call over a research aide.
Green closes his eyes and takes a hard breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He's faced down countless trainers, he tells himself. A building that crowds him in with childhood memories isn't a challenge at all.
He realizes, then, that he is lying. Even standing in the champion's room waiting for Red was nothing compared to this.
"You couldn't just e-mail this stuff to me?" he says. His voice snaps out of him, too loud for the lab's library-like hush. He’s taller than his grandfather, but not by much. He pulls himself straighter to maximize the difference and to stop himself from glancing around, remembering how as a child Professor Oak always told him to pay attention.
His grandfather turns back to him, smiling. "We're using the research vessel Professor Pax brought," he says, "and I wanted to show you the blueprints so you'd know your way around. I'll probably spend most of my time in the ship's lab, but you should stay closer to the deck. That's where you'll be the most useful."
"Is that what I am?" Green says, mouth on autopilot. "Useful?"
Professor Oak shoots him an odd look. "Of course you are, Green. We're not expecting smooth sailing out there. Your skills will come in handy." He claps a hand on Green's shoulder and it takes all of Green's willpower not to flinch away.
He feels a rising static fill the inside of his skull, drowning out his thoughts. "I need to go," he hears himself say.
Distantly he registers Eevee's low growl and feels her leap toward his chest. He catches her reflexively.
Professor Oak looks at Eevee, surprised. "You're upset. What's wrong?"
"I need to go," he repeats, "just e-mail me," and then he's striding toward the door.
If his grandfather calls after him, he can't hear it through the buzzing in his ears. He launches himself outside and hurries toward his grandfather's house with long, ground-eating strides. He's reaching to open the door before he freezes, realizing he doesn't live here anymore—his home is a fifteen minute walk in the opposite direction.
Before he can do anything else, the door swings open beneath his hand. Daisy stands there, frowning.
"Come here," she says, and seizes his wrist before he can speak. He barely sees the house before she pulls him into the backyard, where she sits him down in a wrought iron chair beside a similarly-styled table. An umbrella shades him from the afternoon sun. "Don't move," she says, and leaves for a moment.
It takes a moment of blank staring before his eyes refocus. He blinks, feeling disoriented. Eevee’s low growls rumble through his chest.
Daisy returns with a cup of hot tea. She sets it on the table and pulls his hands around it, and the temperature rouses him a little. He pulls back to huddle around Eevee, his eyes tracking the ripples on the tea's surface. "This is—"
"Take some deep breaths," she instructs, sitting next to him in the other chair.
Along with her quiet counting he breathes in for four beats, holds it for four, then breathes out for six. After a few rounds the roaring white noise starts to recede. His final exhale is shaky but a little relieved, and his tight hold on Eevee relaxes. In response, she stretches up a little to furiously groom his face.
"What," he says, wincing back, then: "Oh man, that hasn't happened since I was a kid." He pets Eevee until she bundles down into his arms again, her eyes watchful over the curve of his forearm. Daisy is still searching his face, her brow furrowed. "I'm okay," Green reassures her. "Well. I'm better. Thanks."
Whatever she sees in his expression seems to satisfy her. She nods to herself before asking, "What happened? You haven't visited once since you moved in, and now you show up looking like that..."
Green grimaces. "I went to the lab," he says. "I don't really know what happened. It just...it was like I was eleven and Gramps was disappointed in me all over again. I kept waiting for, I don't know, for him to ask what my name was. He never forgot your name," he mutters.
"I look just like mom," Daisy says. She glances at the ground.
Green rakes a hand through his hair, suddenly disgusted with himself. "Sorry."
"It's not your fault," Daisy says. "It's not anyone's fault, really. Grandfather works too hard, so he doesn't have any room in his brain left for details." It's the same thing she's always said.
Green's eyes narrow. "Don't you get tired of sticking up for him? What has he ever done to deserve it?"
"He took us in," Daisy replies. Her hands are folded in her lap and her expression is forcefully serene. "He took us in and shared what he had with us. He taught us everything he knows about pokémon. He gave me the money to start my business, and helped establish you in the Viridian Gym. He's not a bad man, Green."
"I know he’s not," Green snaps. "But that doesn't mean he's good."
"He's family," Daisy persists.
"So what?" Green mutters, hunching in his chair.
"Drink your tea," she says, ending the argument. They've had it before, and neither wins it. Still grumbling, he lifts the mug to his mouth and slurps a sip to dispel the water's heat.
Daisy watches for a moment before squaring her shoulders, as if making up her mind. "Well, no matter the reason, I'm really glad you visited," she says. "I wanted to show you what I've done while you were away. Doesn't it look different?"
Green blinks, looking around. He remembers the backyard as unremarkable expanse of overgrown grass, tufted with seed in the spring and beaten down by rain after the monsoons. Now, it's a field of variegated flowers with a stone walkway woven through, dotted here and there with beautifully groomed pokémon he doesn't recognize. There's a small pool in the middle, too: he can hear the soft rush of a decorative waterfall.
"Wow," he breathes. "You did all this? It's awesome." Daisy beams.
"Come on," she says, taking his hand and coaxing him to his feet. She leads him across the flagstone path—a gift from Brock, she says—and points at the decorative goldeen in the pond, metallic scales shimmering in the uncertain light—gifts from Misty. Erika helped design the garden and procured the flower seeds, but Daisy grew them all herself.
"I had no idea you knew so many League members," he says.
"You kept bringing me as your plus one to all those fancy parties," she says, smiling. "I had to talk to someone."
She brings him inside the house, which has also changed. The downstairs area is dedicated to her growing business, which is now a full spa and beauty salon: massages are only one of the many services she offers, and the pokémon lounging outside are some of her customers. She even has an employee, a friendly girl from Johto whose grandparents run the daycare in Goldenrod City. She winks at Green but doesn't stop grooming a snubbull's coat to a lustrous sheen.
"Are twintails, like, a Johto thing?" Green says, staring at her brown hair.
"You should ask her sometime," Daisy replies.
The tour finishes upstairs, passing Daisy's room to stop at the closed door that was once Green's. He can't stop himself from tensing, but Daisy opens it and—the place is unrecognizable. The walls are unadorned, the space filled with stacks of boxes and supplies.
"It’s my storeroom now," she says, and he remembers moving all of his stuff out a few months after becoming gym leader. He got rid of almost everything over the years, but a few things are still in storage. He blinks, realizing he has enough room in the lighthouse now: he should check if any of it is worth keeping.
"You've got a nice setup, huh?" he says, looking around.
Daisy is looking straight at him, and he recognizes his own stubbornness in the set of her mouth. "I do," she says. "Green, we're not kids anymore. Things aren't how they used to be. So visit more often, okay?"
Green shuffles his feet against the carpet. "Okay," he says. "Sorry."
Daisy sighs and pulls him into a hug, careful to leave room for Eevee, still in Green's arms. She tucks his face into the crook of her neck, cradling the back of his head with one hand. "I love you," she says. "Don't ever forget that."
"I never forget," he says, and it's mostly the truth.
--
While Green is out, Red takes Pikachu to the beach.
Once Pikachu realizes where they're going, he hesitates. Red takes a few more steps before looking over his shoulder, waiting for Pikachu.
Just a walk, Red says. Like last time, with Green and Eevee.
Pikachu's ears twitch, considering, before he shakes his head no. Red nods and turns back, the ocean glimmering behind him.
He extends his hand, and with the familiar cue, Pikachu leaps up to his usual perch on Red's shoulder. He's started to regain the weight he lost, and his fur is soft and full of new static. Red pets Pikachu's neck, reassuring and steadying him simultaneously, before turning to the narrow trail near the cliff's edge.
Red is in no real hurry. He tilts his face up to the sun and takes deep breaths of the salt-tinged air, before kneeling to watch the rattata play by the side of the path. The rattata living near Pallet have always been half-tame, unbothered by humans as long as they don't get too close. Pikachu ignores them with a huff and clambers across Red's shoulders instead. Red winces as Pikachu's claws catch on the tender skin of his nape, but Pikachu doesn't notice as he usually would. His attention is wholly focused on the beach, even as his tail lashes back and forth.
Do you want to go to the beach?
Pikachu hesitates, and then shakes his head slowly. His tail taps Red's head, and when Red turns to look he points across the water.
Obliging Pikachu, Red sits at the cliff's edge. Pikachu hops down beside him and lets Red run reassuring fingers through his fur. Satisfied by the viewpoint, he doesn't strain to see like before; instead, he leans against Red and watches the advancing tide.
This isn't Pikachu's first challenge while at Red's side, though Red can't forget he's responsible. But the two of them have overcome everything together. Pikachu always looks forward, away from what happened and toward what can be done. They look out across the ocean together, quiet.
Red thinks, We can do this, too.
--
After the ill-fated visit to his grandfather's lab, Green spends the rest of the week meeting with the other two professors involved in the project. They assume he's been sent by Professor Oak as a liaison, a more personal touch than the business e-mails and phone calls of the past few months. Green bristles at the assumption but doesn't correct it, either.
Elm, the second professor, sends one of his many research aides as a proxy. When Green visits, the poor man is so sleep deprived that he struggles to form full sentences; he admires Professor Oak deeply, which isn't offensive as much as it is boring. The third professor, however, comes in person. She's a lively woman whose area of expertise is Unovan marine biology, and Green first finds her on the docks at dawn, asking the fishermen about ocean conditions.
"Practically a local, huh," he says, grin lopsided.
"As if,” she says with an honest smile. “They wouldn't even talk to me until I proved I knew my stuff. You must be Green? Call me Pax."
Green learns more about marine life in the next two hours than he had his entire life. "No one understands tynamo's migration pattern," she says. "For a long time, we didn't even know they were a fish pokémon. We classified them as something else totally—for a while we thought they were worm pokémon. You can find tynamo and eelektrik in secluded caves in Unova, but we didn't know where they spawned until we tracked one A. electrum all the way to the warm waters off the coast of Vermillion. We've found both marine and freshwater tynamo species, but they all come right here to breed. Even the east and west sea varieties of gastrodon breed in different places, so tynamo are quite unique!"
He texts Kris that evening: Did you know eelektross are catadromous?
You've been talking to Professor Pax, Kris immediately replies. Isn't she amazing? She teaches at Humilau University. I'd love to take one of her classes.
You should come visit. I'll introduce you.
I can't. My thesis defense is really soon. But I wouldn't mind you putting in a good word for me! ^_~
A few days later, he sends her the professor's contact information and her reply is just !!!. He snorts, thinking Kris and Red would probably get along.
--
Red sits on the couch with his feet tucked beneath him, watching Green stuff a fanny pack with small but necessary things: water, sunscreen, a few pokeblocks.
"I don't think we'll get pokégear reception out there," Green says, "but we'll be in radio contact with the lab...there's leftovers in the fridge." He snags sunglasses from the table and tucks them into his shirt collar, before glancing at Red and seeing the tension around his mouth. "What?"
"I want to go," Red mumbles.
Green raises an eyebrow. "It's not exactly a pleasure cruise." He whistles and Eevee comes bounding up onto his shoulder. He scratches her chin before turning back to Red, who's still staring. Green sighs. "Besides, Pikachu still doesn't like the ocean, does he?"
Red blinks and looks at Pikachu, who's curled up in his lap. Pikachu shakes his head once and noses beneath Red's hand until his eyes are covered, making a soft frustrated noise. Red pets him before looking back at Green, his expression less stubborn.
"So that's that," Green says, confirming. "Listen, someone needs to stay here anyway.” Green gives a crooked smile and a small two-fingered salute. "Keep an eye on me out there, okay?"
Red's expression flattens, unimpressed, as always, by Green's posturing. "Take Wingull," he persists.
Green recognizes the mulish set of his mouth and the clear challenge in his gaze. Something inside of him rises up, an instinctual desire to argue—before he shakes his head a little, and squashes it.
"Sure, why not?" he says, shrugging. "Wingull are supposed to be good luck on fishing trips, anyway."
Red's expression clears and he nods.
Green pats his pockets and fanny pack, making sure he hasn't forgotten anything, before he turns to the door. "Well, see you later," he says.
The moment they step outside he hears a piercing cry overhead, and Wingull swoops down in front of them. Green only jumps a little, he swears, but he glances around anyway to make sure no one saw.
Of course he finds Red by the window, one hand lifted to push the curtain out of the way. The corner of his mouth twitches with poorly concealed amusement.
Green glares at him and turns in a huff to march down the hill. He feels Red's gaze on his back, and the weight of the attention makes him lift his chin a little higher and pull his back a little straighter. "We're gonna find so many tynamo," he grumbles to Eevee. "We'll show him."
Wingull gives another cry, then soars into the hazy sky. Green whistles again, just to hear Eevee chirp in response, and heads toward the docks.
--
They start a few weeks before the rainy season begins. It's too early for tynamo, but it gives them time to fine-tune their equipment and establish a baseline for their measurements. Golduck comes too, but he seems bored, drowsing in the heat.
The Unovan ship RV Sea Ruby is huge, its red and white sides gleaming in the sun. Instead of sweltering on deck he opts to ride on the back of his pidgeot, one eye always on the ship. Wingull keeps pace in the air, soaring over and under them as they fly, and a headset keeps him connected to the boat. Teams of search pokémon help with their echolocation: Elm's team brought graceful mantines, and Oak's lab puts the tentacruel overcrowding the local waters to good use, but the Unovan team is the most striking. When a horde of seismitoad erupt from their poké balls and plop onto the deck, even Green flinches away.
"They're cute, aren't they?" Professor Pax says, slapping one on their shoulder. It gives a croaky giggle, covering its mouth with one huge hand. "Best search-and-find pokémon in the water, hands down."
"Seismitoad take work to evolve," Green says, admiring. The professor beams.
Silver is in the sky too, upon Green's invitation and Kris's insistence. It's not exactly a day off, but Silver wouldn't have accepted a less stressful excuse to leave the gym. He answers Green's questions as they fly, voice dry and terse over the headset: the gym is fine. He's realized most League paperwork is pointless but does it anyway, just to make someone else waste their time processing it. He texts Kris sometimes. Their conversation is periodically interrupted by the appearance of wild pokémon, with Green and Silver swooping down to help chase them off.
As the sun sets, Silver flies home and Green lands with Pidgeot and Wingull on the deck of the Sea Ruby. The return trip lets Green experience the lighthouse beacon from the open water. He stands beside Wingull at the railing, wind ruffling his hair as he watches Lucy’s light cut through the evening, illuminating the black water around them with flash after flash.
He's too far to tell, but he wonders if Red is standing on the lighthouse balcony, watching the ship lights approach, just as Green is watching him.
Home, he thinks.
--
Pikachu spends a lot of time staring out the window, even though they go to the beach every day. At first Red wonders if he misses Eevee, but then realizes he's looking at the ocean. Pikachu has never been good at accepting setbacks.
After a few days, he trots to the back door and looks expectantly over his shoulder. Red puts down his game controller and opens the door.
Pikachu stays close as they walk to the beach. Red's path drifts closer to the ocean, half his attention on Pikachu, half focused on syncing his breath with the waves. His mind drifts: training regimens, new attack techniques, the humidity that weighs down the air. It's reminiscent of Hoenn, how the entire region moved slower in deference to the relentless heat.
Pikachu chirps a warning and Red pauses. He looks down to find the ocean soaking into his sneakers. He looks at Pikachu, who grumbles.
On a hunch, Red calls out another pokémon. Lapras charges into the ocean without a backwards glance, and Pikachu watches him go with a mix of worry and frustration. He calls out to Lapras, who responds with a musical cry and turns back toward shore, shell rising out of the water like an island.
Pikachu dips a paw into the water and flinches at the sensation. He shivers from the cold, lifts his paw, then slams it back into the water, making a small splash. He calls to Lapras again, his voice louder, more strident.
Red remembers—when Lapras learned Surf it was Pikachu, not Red, who was his first rider.
Pikachu rises onto his hind legs and takes a hesitant step into the water, getting used to the pull of the surf on his body, and then another. His cheeks spark with nervous lightning before he tamps it down, not wanting to hurt Lapras, who hums encouragement and lowers his head toward Pikachu. Pikachu calls back and takes a few more steps, ears pressed back, until he rests his paw on Lapras's muzzle.
Lapras pushes his head forward against Pikachu's stomach, flipping him over to land between his ears. It's a familiar move, and Pikachu runs down his neck and onto his shell before sitting up on his haunches blinking, surprised by his own daring.
Red listens to Pikachu's happy cry, Lapras’s sonorous hum, and remembers Green and his mom laughing together in the kitchen as they worked on some new recipe. Red is content anywhere, as long as he's with his pokémon, but Pallet is more comfortable than anywhere else. Living in Pallet isn't quiet, but maybe he doesn't need the quiet anymore.
--
Green is woken by his cell phone going off beside his ear. He slaps at it, sending it clattering and ringing off the mattress, then hauls himself to the edge of the bed to flail around for it. He's missed the call by the time he finds it and he squints at the screen, eyes protesting the artificial brightness.
"Ugh, Gramps," he croaks, but he only hesitates a moment before he calls back.
"Green!" Professor Oak sounds disgustingly awake, considering the sun hasn't risen. "It's rude not to answer when someone calls, you know. What if it was important?"
"If it was important you'd be getting to the point instead of talking my ear off right now," Green snarls.
Professor Oak pauses for a long second, long enough for Green to realize what he just said. "Oh. Uh. Sorry, I—"
"You know, Green," his grandfather interrupts, "I know we don't have the easiest relationship, but that's no reason to speak disrespectfully to—"
"I'm sorry," Green practically bawls into the phone. His grandfather falls into a brittle silence and Green groans, rolling onto his back and slapping a palm against his forehead. "I didn't mean—"
"I am trying, Green!" Oak says, tone wavering. Green has never heard him sound like that before. "I would appreciate a little patience and understanding."
"Are you—crying?"
"Of course not!" Professor Oak snaps. "This is ridiculous. I was calling to tell you that Golduck says the monsoon will start today, so we're not going out. Stay home!"
His grandfather hangs up before he can respond.
Green stares at his phone for a second before growling, "Ugh, it's too early for this," and burying his face into the pillow.
--
Later that morning, with Pikachu a sleepy bundle on his shoulder, Red wanders into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks, staring at Green.
Since they started living together, Red has redeveloped his habit of noticing Green whenever he's near. It's worsened over the last month until Green pulls his gaze wherever he goes, leaving a prickling, nervous feeling that builds in his chest the longer he looks. Usually Green calls him on it with teasing or self-aggrandizing praise; today, though, he doesn't notice, distracted by the music playing through his earbuds.
Red faintly hears the audio leaking through, some kind of upbeat boyband tune. Green's cooking something in a pan and bopping along, singing under his breath as he works. His slippered feet are doing a little sidestep shuffle. Red doesn't need to see his face to know he's smiling.
It's Eevee who notices them first. She sits up from her bed on the windowsill and Green turns to see what she's looking at. His eyes brighten when he sees Red before his smile turns cockily self-conscious. He rests a hand on one hip, the other holding the sizzling pan. Green is happy to see him, he realizes, caught off-guard but not embarrassed, as if Red’s welcome here.
"About time you woke up," Green says, while Red continues to stare. "Hungry?"
Green's hair is growing out a little, but it looks no less ridiculous when backlit by the dim morning light. Red walks toward him, one deliberate step after another, watching Green's grin fade into something nervous, almost shy.
"You made me breakfast," Red murmurs.
Green snorts. "I've been making you breakfast since you moved in," he says. "You just noticed?"
Red takes another step, close enough to pull the pan from Green's hand and set it back onto the glass top stove to finish cooking. Reaching past Green brings their bodies flush, brings Green so near their cheeks are nearly touching.
Green takes a surprised breath and even that small movement makes their clothes brush. Red pulls back just enough to look Green in the eye and sees the want that he's only caught in glimpses made plain.
Green licks his lips. Red doesn't hide how he watches the quick peek of his tongue. "Um, Red, I—"
Red kisses him without fanfare: a slight lean forward, a gentle press of his mouth to Green's. Green doesn't move, doesn't even breathe, until Red pulls away.
"Thanks for breakfast," he whispers.
"Pikachu is on your shoulder," Green hisses, color rising high in his cheeks.
Pikachu and Red glance at each other, then shrug at the same time.
"Move, move," Green says, shooing Pikachu until he hops onto the table with a huff. Then he hurries to kiss Red again, clumsy with eagerness, sliding his mouth over Red's until they’re breathing heavily and Green is laughing with disbelief and slight hysteria, tangling his fingers in Red's shirt collar.
"You're welcome," he breathes against Red's lips, and fumbles behind him to turn the stove off before breakfast burns.
--
After a week, Golduck decides it's safe to go out again. Wingull soars up to land on a high railing at the top of the boat while the crew boards, the strong wind ruffling her feathers. She ignores Green when he beckons her inside.
"You’re the lookout, huh?" he calls. She fluffs up in reply, never taking her eyes from the churning water.
The heat inside the ship's cabin is oppressive, and the air is thick with discussion of the latest studies and theories. Professor Oak often solicits Green's opinions and listens to his responses, but soon the academic talk turns stale, becoming so theoretical that Green's independent research can't help him understand it. He fidgets, finding his dislike of being overlooked is as strong as ever, and tries not to look at his grandfather too much.
Eventually he wanders out with Eevee on his shoulders, the heated discussion about gorebyss patterns still droning in his headset, and climbs ladders and stairs until he reaches the deck. The wind pushes him back immediately and he crouches to keep balance, ears full of the roaring ocean. He clings to the railing and looks around until he sees Wingull, her wings and head hunkered down against the wind.
The rough conditions make their mission seem urgent, less like an ocean jaunt and more like the dangerous research that it is. It's hard for him to forget he's responsible for protecting the crew if they find the dangerous pokémon they're hunting for. You're one of the top trainers in Kanto, he remembers his grandfather saying.
"You're not the only lookout," he shouts to her. "We've all got jobs to do."
Wingull glances over but doesn't answer. Green grins, feeling his senses slowly awaken, feeling the itch for battle beneath his skin.
A few pokémon make things interesting: a swarm of tentacruel, who bypass their researcher brethren to try to heave themselves onto the deck, and a pod of kingdra who assault the boat with a barrage of Bubblebeams. Green takes to leaving Gyarados out of his ball and standing in the center of his loose coils, one hand resting on the smooth scales of his body as the pokémon arches upward. Gyarados's head blocks out the sky above and he breathes out warm puffs of air that stir Green's hair, the two of them watchful as they scan the sea. Wingull, with her higher vantage point, gives him a crucial few seconds of warning, and he learns to listen for her raspy cry.
After a few hours, the only excitement left is the uneven tossing of the ship. The squawk of conversation in his ear doesn't carry any pertinent updates, and his excitement dims to a wary alertness.
Hours pass and still nothing. Eventually Golduck gives a wary bark, and at his signal they turn back toward shore. Green retreats to the covered observation deck at the boat’s crown and presses his hands to the glass as the ship rocks; the ocean is slate-gray and white with foam, its color reflecting the clouds, and—boring.
He thinks of Red. He imagines him sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a sweating glass of iced green tea in his hands, gazing out the window at the ocean. If he closes his eyes he can hear distant thunder rumble and he imagines how it sounds to Red, far-off enough to only be a whisper.
Longing hits him like a knife to the chest. He's glad, suddenly so glad, that Red is safe at home and not trapped out here, but he also misses him in some bone-deep way that makes it hard to breathe. Without thought his hand pulls back into a loose fist against his chest, eyes fixed on the wingull just outside the glass.
--
Lucy's light blazes more fiercely the thicker the stormclouds grow.
Electric-types grow stronger during monsoon season, and Pikachu is no exception. He grows restless, unused to the indoors after years of traveling. After a week, even Lucy can't bear it any longer and she kicks him out of the beacon room, leaving Pikachu to grumble and pace the floor. Green is out visiting Daisy, so he can't depend on Eevee to distract Pikachu, either.
Let's go, Red says.
This time, Pikachu runs ahead of him to the beach.
Red tries to borrow Green's raincoat and finds it small in the shoulders and short in the wrists. The rain stopped a few hours ago, so he wanders out in his usual shirt and hat. They’re greeted by a peal of thunder when they reach the beach, and Pikachu shouts back, delighted as he sprints down the shore.
Red runs after him until fighting the wind drains his strength. He stops to catch his breath, watching Pikachu's dwindling figure, then takes a sharp inhale when his path careens toward the water. His hand darts toward Blastoise's poké ball as Pikachu dives in—only to freeze when he's tossed back onto the sand seconds later, tumbling and sparking with indignation.
Pikachu leaps to his feet, shaking his head to clear his ears before he diving back in. Red sprints toward him, exhaustion forgotten, one hand trembling as it hovers over the poké balls at his belt.
Pikachu repeats the process again and again with no change—a yelling charge into the high waves, only to be spat right back out again. But Pikachu seems unharmed by it, and his cries shift from challenge to excitement as Red nears. Pikachu's stride changes from quick steps to bounding leaps, trying to clear the tall waves. Red slows to a jog, his eyes fixed on the yellow dot bobbing in the sea, telling himself to trust him, trust him.
He realizes Pikachu is not the only one afraid of the ocean.
Pikachu's voice is faint over the roar of thunder, but Red still hears him. He drifts further out, luring Red to wade in after him until he's angled sideways and half-crouching, pummeled by wave after wave.
It's not pleasant. The fright coursing through him mirrors the cold water dragging against his legs. But a full minute passes and he can still hear Pikachu and he's still standing, still breathing, still here.
Pikachu! he calls, afraid but no longer overwhelmed.
Many people asked Red why he kept traveling, why he would vanish into the deep wild for months at a time. He could never explain it was the pursuit of greater context, a hunt for this exact sensation: being alone with his pokémon in the churning tide, surrounded by nature's ferocity, so overwhelmed by its magnitude it feels like not existing at all. Red's concerns dwindle to nothing in the face of the sublime.
Pikachu comes tumbling back in with the next wave and Red plucks him from the water, cradling him to his chest. His chirruping laughter rings in Red's ears as he walks toward land, pulling them both free from the tide. Pikachu lunges up to bump his nose against Red's, trilling with savage joy. Red smiles, silent but no less happy, before they turn toward home.
Red has scaled mountains and fought legendary pokémon, and he has always survived. In the end, the ocean is no different.
Part Five (NSFW) »
Part Five (SFW) »
// written April 2017 to June 2017
Illustration by Ame // Full Size
(Please full view, the details are incredible!)