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It looks like the tide at Shoal Cave is halfway out; the sandy earth at the water’s edge is dark and dotted with smooth pebbles and faded shells, half-dissolved from the mineral-rich water, and it slopes gradually up from the shoreline to the cave entrance further ahead with a few little straggler tidepools here and there, no doubt teeming with small, skittering Krabby and doughy Pyukumuku. The broad rocky exterior of the cave, a low island worn smooth from eons of waves and wind, is unassuming and gives no hint at the vast labyrinth beneath.
Archie takes a moment to look around with his hands in his pockets, smiling like a proud father at the sound of the Wingulls overhead. The breeze has a slight bite to it; Hoenn's nine sweltering months of summer have come and gone, and now the long-overdue chill of winter is taking hold. A few errant drops of sea-spray are glittering in the tight-coiled curls of Archie's wiry hair, which must be the exact reason why he normally wears that same tired blue bandana everywhere. In lieu of his standard uniform— the black shirt, black slacks, and black non-slip boat shoes— he’s instead opted for a souvenir T-shirt from a waterfront seafood place in Slateport, featuring a smiling cartoon Whiscash surrounded by fries and hush-puppies… plus the black slacks, and the black non-slip boat shoes. The little silver chain around his neck catches the sun just right with a brilliant white gleam.
If Maxie’s also wearing a novelty tee, you wouldn’t know it; he has his long two-tone coat buttoned all the way up to his jawline as usual, with the red Magma emblem still boldly emblazoned on the left breast. His shoes look a little too expensive for trudging around this place, but at least he had the practical sense to tie his hair back. A few loose red strands of it brush past his face, already gritty and stiff from the briny mist in the air, and he’s just counting down the hours until he can go back to his room at the Cove Lily and wash it all out. Lousy day-trips. It’ll be well past dusk by the time they return to the mainland.
Archie's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “I was so excited checkin’ the forecast today and seein’ how nice it was gonna be. I’m just now realizin’ it doesn’t even matter, since we’re gonna be inside the whole time anyway.”
“I assume you, too, have a newfound appreciation for nice weather after Sootopolis.” Maxie may hate talking about his disastrous defeat, but knowing Archie failed just as catastrophically at the exact same time does take away some of the sting.
“Indeed I do.” He glances around at the wispy clouds. “This is gonna sound crazy, but ever since then, whenever I’m out in the open like this, I’m always a little paranoid Rayquaza is gonna swoop down for round two and Crunch my head clean off.”
Maxie startles a bit and quickly eyes the bright blue sky all around him. “I… hadn’t considered that.”
Archie laughs and slaps him on the back. “Then let’s head on in before he flies by and sees us!”
Maxie doesn’t think it’s very funny.
As they make their way inside, the cave echoes their footsteps like an empty contest hall-- spacious, but lonely and dark. They tread through the sand, down a worn-out natural staircase in the stone, and Maxie’s eye follows the high-water mark as the path takes him further and further below it. The salt deposits that run its length make it sparkle in the light of their flashlights. He forces himself to look back down at the rocky sand under his feet and tries not to imagine how it looks during high tide.
“So, Max.” In here, Archie's voice booms even more than usual, bouncing off the solid rocky walls like a Zubat's echolocation. “Got any big plans in the works yet?”
Maxie stops in his tracks, one hand clenched in a tight fist in his coat pocket, the other searching the cave walls with the beam of his flashlight like it’s going to help him find his own words. He runs the light along the high-water mark again, his grip trembling almost imperceptibly. “I’m not sure.” They’re standing in the doorway of a narrow tunnel leading to the deep lower levels of Shoal Cave, and Maxie kind of pivots on his heels a little. It’s strange, suddenly being thrown back in front of a confusing and uncertain future when he’d thought he’d had everything plotted out so perfectly. “I suppose there are a few obvious short-term goals to work on first. Paying reparations. The Space Center, for instance: I know I owe them quite a pretty penny.” Something bright white catches Maxie’s eye in the damp sand a few yards away, and he paces over to it. “Other than that… I don’t know.”
He stoops to pluck up the item; it’s an old, faded Clamperl shell, just a scant few inches across, and Maxie squints at it, straining to recall what little he knows about molluscan life cycles. Do bivalves lay eggs? Are they hermaphroditic? He pockets the shell and chides himself for getting self-conscious about his marine biology knowledge. It’s not an impressive field, he thinks, but looking stupid in front of Archie is definitely not a good look. He meanders back towards the tunnel entrance and hopes Archie didn’t notice the shell.
Thankfully, Archie’s already wandered a bit inside the tunnel to the next chamber of the cave. He scans the cave with his flashlight, looking for the edge of the water, but it seems like the tide has just retreated through the tunnels head, down to even deeper levels.
Maxie follows and finds they’re standing in a low basin, surrounded on all sides by terraces of dark, damp rock. In the still air, they can hear the faint drip, drip of twin stalagmites and stalactites, inching closer together one drop at a time. Maxie gets so caught up in admiring them he nearly bumps right into Archie’s broad back. Whew. That was a close one.
Archie moves over to take a seat on a small sloping ledge ahead of them, another natural stair worn into the stone from so many generations of spelunkers. It’s still damp from the receding tide, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He grins up at Maxie. “I’ve been thinkin’ about how I wanna pay back Cap’n Stern and the Oceanic Museum.”
“Naturally.”
“Still feel pretty bad for barging into the Museum and takin’ it over like that.” Archie scratches at his beard with his free hand. “Used to go there all the time as a kid. In high school I even did some volunteering there.”
“Did you, now?”
“Aye. Did some docent work. Obviously wasn’t gettin’ paid, but hey, talkin’ people’s ears off about ships, trenches, coral reefs, and a couple billion years of sediment? Not a bad way to spend an afternoon. And my Ma liked seein’ me do something productive with my free time, ‘stead of sittin’ around on BBSes all day arguin’ about Fossil Pokémon documentaries or what have ya.” He laughs, and it resonates a little differently in this lower level of the cave. “Always had somethin’ to say about those really early ones like Anorith. But… yeah. Gettin’ sidetracked. Point is, givin’ back to the Museum again is the least I could do.”
Maxie has this look on his face like he got distracted by the mere mention of sediment and now his mind’s started wandering around the cave floor.
Archie takes it as genuine thoughtfulness and smiles fondly as he watches Maxie putter around, nudging the sand with his too-nice, slightly-high-heeled boots and pocketing another small shell.
It’s refreshing seeing Maxie get quiet and contemplative instead of his usual griping and posturing. Maybe this is a good sign, Archie thinks. Maybe the fiasco at Sootopolis also killed off a few of those prickly outer layers around his otherwise charming personality. Not that Maxie would admit to something like that.
Of course, Archie silently concedes to absolutely nobody, he’s the same way, in the sense that he’d gladly die before admitting his mean side ever existed in the first place. He’s always been friendly and outgoing! Obstinate? Stubborn? Bold and brash? Just plain scary to talk to sometimes? Bah, never in a million years!
He hoists himself up from the stairs and figures he’ll mill about, too, and give them both some room to ruminate a little more. He trots up the rest of the steps to patrol the higher ledge.
It’s another couple minutes before Maxie pipes up again. “Whatever Team Magma does next, I don’t think we should rush into it.”
“Aye. That’s wise.”
Maxie smiles but doesn’t make eye-contact. “I know that just sounds like I’m avoiding your question. But I truly want to make the best decision possible. Scrambling to come up with a new plan while I’m still dealing with the fallout of the last one isn’t going to do anyone any favors.” He looks up from the sand and cranes his neck awkwardly, trying to get a look at Archie on the level above him. “What are you doing up there? I’m trying to have a conversation, you dolt.”
“And I’m listenin’ to it!” Archie is kneeling down and running his thumb along a line of salt deposits left around a small tidepool at his feet, where a bit of water was left by the receding tide and is now slowly seeping down through the porous rock. He rubs some of the salt between his fingers like he’s looking for something mixed into it.
What could he possibly know about salt? Maxie trots briskly up to stand next to him. His flashlight glints on the surface of the tidepool and he can see both their faces reflected on it.
Archie looks up at him and gives him a thumbs-up with his lightly dusted fingers. “You were pickin’ up some shells in here earlier, right?”
Maxie stammers and hesitates for some reason. “Er… Yes.”
“Hold onto ‘em. I’ll show ya why later. It’ll be a surprise.”
Maxie doubts it’ll be worth the trouble, but he doesn’t protest. He takes his eyes and his flashlight away from Archie and the little tidepool, feigning interest in something on a wall at the other end of the cave. “I think this impromptu day-trip was enough of a surprise for me for one day.”
“Heh. Sorry for springin’ it on ya.” Archie stands and mirrors Maxie’s slack, disinterested posture and avoidant gaze. “Figured you could use a li’l enrichment.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m some Trapinch in a terrarium.” Maxie visibly catches himself getting snippy and dials it back with a little huff through his nose. “I apologize. Your instincts were correct. I have been getting a little… stuck inside my own head as of late.”
“We should do this more often, then. Some regular fresh air ought to do ya some good.” Archie reaches out and puts a reassuring hand on Maxie’s shoulder and feels him jump the slightest bit. “Maybe next time I won’t pick somewhere so far out of the way, though.”
Maxie glances over at him, forcing down the snarky retort he almost reflexively shot back with.
Normally, Archie’s smile is broad and toothy and honestly a little terrifying, like a yawning Primarina that goes from fun and friendly to a whole mouthful of Razor Fangs. But now, it’s warm, kind… There’s little Murkrow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes and Maxie is struck by just how long it’s been since he last saw that exact smile.
How many years? Five, ten, fifteen? He didn’t think it was possible back then, but now the years really are blurring together. And what do they have to show for all this time apart? A few early gray hairs at their temples and some strange new aches in their joints and not a whole lot else.
But that doesn’t matter one bit. Archie is finally back, just how he used to be however many years ago, warm and open and extremely touchy-feely. His palm feels searing hot. That particular detail is especially familiar.
Archie's voice is a soft and pleasantly surprising rumble. “Max, can I let you in on a li’l secret?”
Maxie is paralyzed; he can’t move.
In one swift movement, Archie pulls out Maxie’s small ponytail and then aggressively ruffles his hair. “I'm glad to have you back.”
Poor predictable Maxie. He squeaks out a pathetic wordless wheeze as Archie snickers to himself and saunters off. Then, muttering something about some bastard brigand, he quietly sets to work on neatening his tousled mane. He’s not getting that hair-tie back… He can already see that bright red stripe of elastic adorning Archie’s wrist like it’s the proud spoils of a plundered ship.
Outside the cave, the afternoon sun hits like a Flash. Maxie squeezes his eyes shut and winces as he steps out.
Archie follows him a few moments later, mirroring his reaction almost identically.
Maxie smirks. “Alright, Archie, what’s your so-called surprise?”
Archie beams back, lifting up something on a string that catches the bright sunlight. “It’s for you.” He places it gently in Maxie’s palm.
Maxie holds it close to his face, squinting; the glare on his glasses is making things a little tricky right now. He recognizes two of the tiny Clamperl shells he’d found earlier, about the size of an Oran berry, wrapped tightly together at the hinge with a fine sterling-silver wire and strung on a long piece of braided twine. “It’s... shells on a string.”
“Shake it.”
Maxie notices Archie’s holding one, too. He blinks, then obliges, holding it by the wire loop that the twine is strung through. Inside the two shells, a bit of sediment and sea-salt shakes around to make a strange, brushing chime, almost like popcorn kernels in a metal bowl. He shakes it again, then a third and fourth time, holding it reverently up to his ear. He has a dreamy smile on his face until he remembers Archie’s watching him. He clears his throat and lowers the bell. “It’s lovely.”
“Figured you’d like it, knowin’ how much you like goin’ on and on about sand.” Archie chuckles, nudging him with a jab of his elbow before cheerfully ringing his own bell. “So now the sand can talk back to ya. Cute, huh? And a’ course, I like ‘em ‘cause they’re made of these cute little shells.” Shing-a, shing-a, shing. “Somethin’ for both of us.”
“Something for both of us…” Maxie allows himself to stand around like an idiot, admiring the sound of his silly little shell bell.
It really does have a wonderful, almost rejuvenating chime.
Shells and salt.
Huh. Who knew?