Chapter Text
Flannery stirs her soup listlessly, dazed and unfocused on the conversation that flows around her. She’s been completely preoccupied by one singular horrifying thought the entire time - what on earth had possessed her to think about kissing her beloved mentor?! She’s never even kissed anyone!
Her brain must be confusing her gratitude towards her mentor as hero-worshipping attraction. Thats the only reasonable answer, at least. How mortifying that she would confuse the two - that’d definitely wig Steven out for sure…
She’s so lost in her own distress that she doesn’t even realise that Uncle Wattson has been rambling for a good while by himself. He finally takes a moment to breathe, and then his jolly expression flips to become impossibly serious.
“Flannery,” Uncle Wattson’s voice is suddenly grave, and she jumps to attention - hopefully he hadn’t noticed her zoning out!
“Have you decided when you will tell your grandfather about your diagnosis?” Uncle Wattson continues, his voice emotionless.
Flannery’s blood turns to ice and the spoon automatically falls from her grasp, clattering onto the table with an echoing sound. The seconds tick by slowly as the blood rushes in her head like a tidal wave.
She shakes her head stiffly, her vision spinning.
Telling her Grandpa?! She can only imagine what would happen next. The memories of her high school years have always been partially shrouded, but she remembers that it was literally the worst time of her life. With her attacks starting shortly after her parents died, and Grandpa swamped with work, Flannery had nowhere to go and no one around to help her make sense of it all. Little things tripped her up constantly and sent her spiraling, and Grandpa’s methods were not the kindest. He assumed, rightfully so, that these attacks were a product of her grief over the deaths of her parents, but the more he tried to force her out of them, the worse they became.
There are faint splotches of memories that play like movies she’d watched in the past - being dragged out of cupboards she’d been hiding in, being scolded for crying even when she couldn’t help it, being forced to finish her homework and her food and her training when the claws of terror gripped her throat like the vice grip of a Heracross.
She’d managed to muscle her way through it eventually by building the coping mechanisms that helped her put the distressing thoughts to the side - grooming her Pokemon, going for runs… and yes, the drinking, but with the new gym leader position, her disorder has only awoken with a vengeance, and she knows how upset her Grandpa would be if he knew he was the reason why.
“I was thinking you could break the news to him tonight. I would like to invite him over to Mauville to meet us,” Uncle Wattson interrupts her spiral.
Flannery’s voice erupts out of her before she even knows it.
“N-no, I can’t! I can’t tell him about this!” Flannery shakes her head furiously.
“It’s better that he knows about this, Flannery,” Uncle Wattson insists. “We need him on board in order to formulate the best kind of support for you. Steven and I can only go so far.”
It feels like there are a thousand Spinarak crawling under her skin, and she feels the urge to claw at herself to get them out. Her throat is starting to seize up again - and her hot springs are nowhere close.
“I… I need some air,” she chokes out, trembling, before taking off running for the exit.
Her feet have no direction - she just runs and runs and runs and runs until she’s too tired to run anymore. Thankfully, the exercise has forced open her constricted lungs, and the movement has eased the tension in her muscles. She doesn’t even realise that she’s basically run in a big circle around the food court as she clambers onto a park bench, her bones weighed down with exhaustion - both physical and mental.
Maybe she just isn’t cut out for this. Maybe she’ll never be the grandchild that Grandpa deserves. He needs one just like her dad, not this defective, broken piece of trash like herself.
She’s not blind - Dad’s death had hit Grandpa as hard as it had hit her. After all, he was all alone. Grandpa’s ex wife had abandoned the family as soon as her dad had learned to walk. They had been forced into an arranged marriage, and she had run off with her lover - a scandal at the time, as her lover was another woman.
Grandpa loved only his son - his beloved treasure. Flannery still remembers how Grandpa’s face would sour every time she asked about her grandmother, and how he’d shake his head and tell her that the best thing from that woman was the birth of his beloved only child. Grandpa never married again, having been assured of his successor, and when Mom had come along, Grandpa hadn’t adjusted well at all.
“Back then, we didn’t have PokeNavs or Poryphones like you do. I’d have to sneak your mom through the window just to talk to her sometimes, and your Grandpa would always chase her out with a broom!”
Somehow, some way, Dad managed to convince Grandpa of his love for her mom, and Flannery had been born shortly after the two had married. Grandpa was the first person to ever hold her as a baby, besides her parents - and it was also the first time Grandpa had ever cried.
“I still remember it like it was yesterday - he told me that he was so proud of you.”
Proud of her for what? Flannery sincerely has no clue. Especially now, when she’s failed to uphold her legacy, the only thing that Grandpa has ever cared about besides her dad - his prized gym.
The Lavaridge gym had always been passed down in Flannery’s family line. However, there had been a dispute with Grandpa’s cousin in his youth, and he’d only finally managed to wrestle back ownership of the gym from her grand uncle, who had tried and failed for the Elite Four title 5 times. That old man had had the last straw of Hoenn, and threw in the towel as gym leader, running off to the far-away region of Galar to lick his wounds. Grandpa took over the gym at that time, trying to restore it to a better condition.
And then Dad died, just as Grandpa was coming up to the first year of gym ownership. Suddenly, it was like Grandpa had been replaced by a machine. All he ever did was work. If he wasn’t at the gym, he was outside running up Mount Chimney with his Pokemon. If he was at home, he was reading textbooks on boosting powerful moves with rare items and enhancing specialized values that she doesn’t even know the name of.
He didn’t even want to look at Flannery - not until her attacks started and he had no choice but to look at her and fix whatever had gone wrong in his absence. He’s never ever considered it a medical issue, but just a byproduct of grief over her parents’ deaths.
“I know you’re sad about your parents, but channel that sadness into your studying. Get your mind off of your emotions, if you focus on them so much, you’ll just be moping around for the rest of your life! Stop working yourself up so much like that, you just have to focus!” were oft repeated mantras from her Grandpa.
And well, some of it worked. When she did things she was good at, it took her mind off the heartache and the terror that she would always be alone. When she brushed Camerupt’s fur, or gave Torkoal a good scrubbing, the rhythmic motions soothed her, distracted her from the morbid thoughts. When she made sweets for her Grandpa and the gym aides, and they ate them happily, she felt her heart soar with happiness.
But a gym leader doesn’t win battles with homemade sweets or brushing fur. A gym leader wins battles by… winning battles. And a gym leader who doesn’t win battles, doesn’t deserve to be a gym leader.
She stifles a sob once again. Grandpa’s poured his life and soul into this gym. After Dad died, Grandpa had nothing else left, nobody else left… but a loony grandkid.
After all, it was only when Grandpa was offered the position of Elite Four three years after her parents died, that she saw his face light up again. But he had had to reject it on account of her attacks. He told her it wasn’t her fault, but Flannery isn’t stupid. If she’d only been better at managing herself, Grandpa wouldn’t have had to lose such a promising promotion.
Flannery buries her face into her knees - the denim material of her jeans is already soaked through with how much she’s cried.
She senses someone approach, and stiffens in response. The footsteps are familiar, and the way the person cautiously sits next to her is enough for her to register that Steven has arrived.
She feels sick to the point of nausea. She’s the worst - making him come running for her like she’s some sort of runaway princess who needs rescuing. The worst part is that the dragon in the story is her own stupid inability to function.
“Are you feeling okay?” His voice is soft, careful, but she can sense the worry veiled behind his words.
“Are you really going to tell him?” Is the first thing blurted out of her mouth.
Because truthfully, she really doesn’t want to tell him. She’s used to Grandpa being mad at her, but that awful look of hopelessness on his face that’s become so commonplace these days is a sucker punch to the gut.
“Why do you want to hide it from him?” Steven’s voice is measured as always - probing, careful.
Obviously there’s just one reason why.
“He… he already hates me enough…”
Agony strangles her as she utters those dreadful words. She’s never faced this accusation head-on before. Even through the mourning period, when Grandpa left her well and enough alone, choosing to focus on work rather than take care of his only grandchild. Or when the panic attacks started, and the memories blend into smears of murkiness in her head - Grandpa roughly pulling her out of closets where she’d been hiding to silence the demons yelling at her within her brain, Grandpa forcing her to finish her Trainer School homework to the point that her pen ink blurred with the tears. Or even when Grandpa returned that fateful day, the day he’d rejected the Elite Four offer, with that sober look on his gruff face.
At the end of the day, she still foolishly believed that he loved her. That he was proud of her, despite how different she was from him. That the gruff pats on the head, and the quiet companionship over dinner every day, was a sign that he still cared.
But what if… he didn’t? She’s ruined his life enough, just by existing. She doesn’t even take after him in looks - the red hair and red eyes come from her mom’s side, and she’s inherited none of his talent in battling. If only she’d been more like her Dad - always patient, always stellar at everything that was expected of him.
Steven’s reply to her is tinged with surprise.
“What makes you think that way?” He sounds so shocked, it’s almost laughable.
Of course Grandpa would hate her!
“He… he couldn’t be in the Elite Four because of me,” Flannery’s voice continues, strained. “Now he has to retire, a-and I can’t even match up to his expectations and be a good replacement for him…”
He’s not the only one she’s disappointing. Even today, only two and a half days into their region tour, she’s here crying about her uselessness and not out there proving to Steven that his faith in her is valid. He’s the only one who’s ever believed in her ability, and she’s only showed him how useless she is at her job.
“I shouldn’t waste your time with the training,” Flannery attempts to muster a smile. “I’m sorry, Steven. I’m such a disappointment, to you and to everyone.”
Steven’s eyes widen a fraction. Suddenly, a whole rush of emotions comes pouring through his fluidly changing expressions, changing so fast that she can hardly keep up. Flannery can only watch in wide-eyed surprise as Steven’s expression morphs from surprised, to disbelief, and to her horror, to anger.
The rage clouds his features as his tone turns to ice.
“I’ve invested my time into training you and mentoring you because I believe you can do it, Flannery,” Steven bites out harshly - so harsh it feels like he’s slapped her right across the face. “I care about you, and I want you to succeed. But if you can’t even believe in yourself when the rest of us do, then that’s the battle lost right there. Do you not trust me? Do you not trust in my judgment?”
He jumps to his feet agitatedly, running his hand through his mussed up hair as the words spill out of him like he’s been holding back for far too long.
“I don’t give a crapwhat your grandfather says about you and your team, Flannery,” he glares at her, his tone acidic.
She flinches at the curse word that’s so foreign with Steven’s typical well-raised mannerisms, but he barrels on like a bulldozer.
“I see what I see - how protective you are over them, how powerful they are, how well you have cared for them. They’re ready to bloom, but you’re letting your grandfather’s words against you hold them back, hold you back. Being a gym leader is more than just replacing your grandfather. You have to find your own place too!” Steven practically spits at her, but the cockles of her heart are starting to heat up.
Ah.
The blood rushes to her face as Steven’s outburst finally connects to her brain. Steven doesn’t notice her starting to steam up in embarrassment - he just continues to pour out an increasingly frustrated stream of consciousness, all of which seems to be directed at her… positively?
“Where is that fiery passion and drive that I saw in you the first time we met? Where is the blazing forest fire of a personality that first caught my attention? Where is the girl who burns like the sun burns in my eyes, so brightly that I can’t look away?” Steven’s full-on yelling at her, but Flannery can’t hear how sharp his tone is, given how the blood pouring through her head is making her confoundingly dizzy.
Oh my Arceus… that’s what Steven thinks of her…?
They share a single loaded look - Steven’s eyes signal that he’s starting to come to terms with whatever he’d shouted at her in a fit of frustration, but Flannery’s are only filled with overwhelming emotion.
Steven sees her. He truly, truly sees her. And he’s always seen her. What she thought were flaws and useless talents, had been the very things that caught his eye.
Too loud, too brash. Not powerful enough, not strong enough. Stop wasting your time on grooming, stop feeding them so many sweets. You’ll never make a good gym leader.
I see how well you take care of them.
Where is that blazing forest fire of a personality that caught my eye?
You have to find your own place too.
The springs in her feet launch her at him before she even notices - Steven catches her as she presses her tearful face into his chest, hugging him so tight that she could crush him. Steven can only support her weight, as she clings to him so desperately like he’s a raft in the stormy sea.
““You’re… you’re the best, Steven,” she utters softly, her lips curling into a soft smile.
Because truly, who else has seen her in the way he has? Who else has been in her corner consistently, giving her advice and helping her get back on her feet? Who else has never looked away, never scolded her for being who she is, and only encouraged her?
Steven is only silent, his eyes like shining moonlit pools.
“You’re right… it’s not really about replacing Grandpa at all,” Flannery continues, shaking her head. “I have to find my own way as a Gym Leader.”
Tiredly, she rests her forehead on the knot of Steven’s cravat. It’s made of silk, and feels cool on her skin.
“Grandpa… I don’t think I really believe he hates me… but I’m scared… He used to look at me with such… disappointment. Like I was holding him back. And even now…”she trails off, feeling the tears well up again.
She is scared. So very very very scared. She knows she loves her Grandpa. But whether he loves her… is another story.
Steven’s calloused hands finds her cheeks, supporting her face gently. His rings - some sort of metal with gemstones in them, are cold against her face as he watches her with an undecipherable expression - its intense, yet gentle at the same time. It’s the second time she’s seen this expression on him today, and yet again, she can’t understand it at all.
“But you’re right Steven,”Flannery utters softly. “I have to tell him. If I ever want things to be better… I have to tell him.
Steven’s eyes shine, sparkle even. It feels like the air has stilled around them, and she can feel her heart pounding in her chest. This time though, it doesn’t make her anxious. It only makes her want to reach for him more.
“I don’t think your grandfather hates you, Flannery,” he speaks quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. “I don’t even believe he’s truly disappointed in you. He loves you.”
Flannery can’t help the smile at those words of his. Yet again, he’s given her the exact encouragement she needed. She wonders… if it had come from anyone besides Steven, would she have heard?
Flannery contemplates that thought as she wriggles out of Steven’s gentle hug.
“Uncle Wattson,” Flannery bows her head. “Can we please call my grandfather to meet us at the Mauville Gym this evening?”
Wattson smiles and opens his mouth to reply, but Flannery continues, her eyes blazing with fiery determination.
“I will tell him about my diagnosis…” she speaks clearly. “After I challenge you to a Pokémon battle.”
Wattson’s smile is so wide, it’s positively electrifying.
“Hohoho, this has just gotten interesting!” Wattson claps cheerfully. “Young Flannery, I accept your challenge! I will make the preparations immediately.”
Flannery feels the fire in her heart spark alive. Today, tonight, she’s going to confront her biggest fears. She sneaks a glance at Steven, who’s smiling at her so broadly it should make her flustered. Instead, she grins back with all teeth. This time, she won’t be going in alone.