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Silver hadn’t meant to go so deep into the Dragon’s Den. Really, he didn’t. Okay, maybe he did, but he’s decided it’s time to go back now.
Except he’s not sure where “back” is.
Weavile chitters worriedly at him as he twists this way, that way, slowly spinning in a circle to survey the encroaching darkness. When had he wandered so far from the lights left ablaze by the dragon keepers? His gloved fingers twitch against the hem of his jacket. He isn’t scared of the dark, no–he’s terrified of what it means.
Alone, alone, alone. A distant memory of a deep night sky. Warm air giving way to frigidity the further north they flew in spite of the fiery feathers just inches away as he dangled from sharp claws. Papa? Mama? Who were they?
Dark meant lost. Lost meant–
“Do you know how to get back?” Silver asks Weavile conversationally, as though his heart isn’t trying to evict itself from his body. The Pokemon clicks its teeth and claws, but doesn’t move. Silver sighs wearily. “Figures.” He hisses when Weavile nips at his hand in retaliation. “Don’t be an ass.”
Unknown surroundings are old hat by now. It had to be, growing up. Escape . A hand clasped around his, leading him away, away, away. There’s no one to find him, now.
Why didn’t I tell Lance where I was going? As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Silver tamps it down with a scowl. He’s nearly seventeen; coddling isn’t needed, even if Lance thinks it is. And it’s not like he hasn’t been on his own before! He doesn’t need anybody!
As though it could read his thoughts, Weavile butts its head against Silver’s arm, then at his belt. When it doesn’t stop, Silver turns his scowl at it, until he realizes it’s nosing at a specific ball dangling from his belt. “Of course.” Why hadn’t he thought of that? Quick, he snaps the ball free and lets loose the Pokemon it contains. If his fingers are shaking…well, no they’re not.
Crobat flutters through the air, stretching its wings, before settling on a nearby rock. It lets out a questioning cry.
Silver’s hand finds purchase on Weavile’s head, nervously rubbing the coarse, velvety fur. “Crobat, can you find the way out?”
The bat lets out a rather throaty chirp before taking to the air again and entering the threatening darkness with an ease that leaves a lump crawling up Silver’s throat. What is wrong with him? He’d been in the dark before. In fact, there was a time he thrived in it, out of necessity if nothing else. So why does the faintest sound, unseen, leave a tremor in his chest, threatening to collapse in on itself?
It doesn’t matter. Weavile nudges him forward. Right. Follow Crobat. Stick close. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.
And for the most part, it is. Crobat occasionally circles back to make sure they’re still following, and Weavile is a steady presence next to him. They keep him moving every time a scrape of a pebble or a forlorn cry of some unknown creature causes him to falter. The cavern just seems…cavernous. It’s swallowed him whole. Fitting, really.
At first, Silver isn’t quite sure why Crobat is fluttering excitedly ahead of them. Then he passes a corner, and his chest nearly folds over in relief. Light! On the far side of an underwater lake is one of the path lanterns that Silver has so sorely missed. How he’d manage to lose himself on the other side, he still doesn’t know, but they’re almost home free. All he needs to do is send out Feraligatr and–
The train of his thoughts is sorely derailed when the rock floor beneath him shifts with a loud creak. The vibrations rattle in his bones as he takes one step back, then another. A third, just for safe measure.
Something is clearly wrong, but not just with the cave. Something is wrong with him , too. He’s never backed down before, not like this.
It happens again, and Silver bites back a whimper. Through the dull roar in his ears he realizes a very simple truth: he’s scared .
Time slows for a moment with the revelation. Then time snaps with too much, all at once, and Silver falls, falls, falls.
Boom.
* * * * *
Lance is staring forlornly out the window when Clair strides in, bags of takeout dangling from her arms. “Hey, call your brat down for dinner.”
Blinking slowly, Lance lifts his head from his hand. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven. Why?” Without a word, Lance sweeps to his feet and marches up the stairs. With a sigh, Clair deposits the bags on the table and follows him. “Don’t tell me you lost him.”
Ignoring her, Lance strides up to the door marking Silver’s “temporary” room. It had been meant to be a layover, a place to rest his head when training with them. But somehow, it had become more of a permanent place, with Silver’s stays extending longer and longer while his journeys grew shorter and shorter. A home of sorts. Right into the Dragon’s Den , Lance thinks to himself as he raps his knuckles smartly against the admittedly worn door. Nothing. “Silver?” he calls out as he knocks again. “You in there? It’s dinner time.”
The continued lack of response leaves Lance anxious, to say the least. Silver couldn’t be sleeping already, could he? And if he was, that meant something was wrong. Silver’s the biggest night-Noctowl Lance has ever had the pleasure of meeting.
Just as he’s about to knock again, Clair grumbles and reaches past him. With a quick twist of her wrist, she shoves the door open.
Lance gives her a scandalized look. “Privacy, Clair.”
She levels him with derision. “Communication, Lance.” Elbowing him out of the way, she flicks the switch and peers around the room. In spite of his own values, Lance can’t help but follow suit.
As far as bedrooms go, it’s…a bedroom. Befitting of Silver, he’d barely made the effort to make it more comfortable. The bed remains pushed in one corner, neatly made, and the desk and dresser are orderly as can be. The only real signs of anyone living here are the lack of dust and the scratched up bean bag chair in the far corner of the room.
Clair shoots Lance a look out of the corner of her eye. “Didn’t you give him an allowance to spruce this place up a bit?”
“He wouldn’t take it,” Lance says absently as he steps into the room. His hunch was right; something is wrong, he’s sure of it. Because the room, empty as it may be, is empty . There’s no Silver in sight. Frowning, he pads over to the bed and bends down, scooping something up that had been jutting out. A somewhat frayed Teddiursa stares blankly back at him. Where is he?
As though she can hear his thoughts–an uncanny knack she's had since they were kids–Clair mutters something about Silver's insane training schedule. Lance slowly turns to look at her.
"It's his off day," he says slowly.
She raises an eyebrow. "When has that ever stopped him?"
Without another word shared between them, they storm out of the house and towards the Dragon's Den. It isn't until they're stepping foot into the gloom that Lance realizes that the Teddiursa remains in his hand. Placing it in an internal pocket of his cape, he hails one of the nearby frequenters of the cave. To his dismay, they affirm that Silver had been spotted a while ago. Worse, that there'd been no sign of him since. Lance had been hoping that maybe he'd taken off to see one of his friends, but the Occam's Razor of it all was always going to be training. Always going to be shoving past the limits they'd painstakingly laid out. Always going to end in crashing and burning.
Okay, maybe that last bit is Lance being dramatic, but so sue him. He sees enough of himself in Silver to notice the pressure cracks forming. Always moving. Always aiming. Not always missing, but always criticizing.
Next to him, Claire finishes up with the tamer and turns to Lance. "You know his usual spots better than I do."
Lance straightens up and locks all his misgivings and worries away. At best, Silver just lost track of the time. It's not unheard of. At worst…
Lance doesn't want to think about it.
"Let's go." They set off deeper into the cave.
Deeper.
Deeper still.
Where is he? By now, they've gone far, farther off the beaten path than is strictly allowed. Even Lance doesn't come this far, not usually. Taking a deep breath, Lance calls out into the darkness. A risk, sure to attract wild Pokemon, but what else is he to do? "Silver?"
Silver? Silver? Silver?
The echoes fade once more into the stillness, leaving nothing but the sounds of dripping water, scuffling of unseen creatures, splashing in the nearby lake. As fortunate as it is not to be pounced on as prey, the fact remains that Silver remains hidden to them. A brief spark of anger flares to life in Lance's chest–this isn't a game of hide-and-seek, so what's he playing at?
While Lance is stirring his simmering frustration, Clair's crept a few steps into a neighboring passage, a frown deeply etched onto her face. Not unusual, but given the circumstances… Lance follows her. "Did you find something?"
"I don't know." She'd been trailing her fingertips along the wall, but drops them as Lance approaches. "What do you think?"
Ahead of them, the passage cuts short. A dead-end. But it's clear as day that this is a freshly made one; as they watch, a few pebbles, unsettled, skitter to the ground below. Lance's stomach plummets. "No."
"We don't know he was here."
Clair's words are uneasy, but Lance clings to their surface. Cautious, he approaches the rock pile. This time, his voice comes out softer. "Silver?"
Silence, then–
Nothing. He isn’t there. Or–
Lance cuts the thought off and spins on his heel, his closed fist coming to tap against his chin. What to do? Where to search next? They’re getting too deep; Silver wouldn’t have gone this far.
Who is he kidding? Of course he would.
As he turns, something bumps against his hip. Looking down, nothing’s there but his cape. Nothing but…
He plunges his hand into his pocket and pulls out the bear. With his other hand, he fumbles at his belt before releasing one of his Dragonair. The serpent coils gracefully around his leg and lets out a curious trill. He holds out the bear. “Can you find Silver with this?” It’s a long shot–Dragonairs aren’t known for their sense of smell, but then again, none of his Pokemon are.
Dragonair noses at the plush material. For a long moment, Lance’s heart is left hovering and ready to crash. Then she releases a long, low cry before turning and slithering into an offshoot of the dead end that they’d somehow missed. And no wonder–as they follow, Lance can barely squeeze through.
“Did you bring a flashlight?” Clair mutters behind him.
He hadn’t, but he’s beginning to wish he had. The further into the crevice he gets, the darker it becomes. Until, strangely, the darkness eases, just a bit. The air gets cooler. Damper. In front of him, Dragonair stops, rearing back with an alarmed cry.
He presses a hand to her head. “Easy, easy,” he soothes quietly, before stepping slowly past her and out of the crevice into an open cavern. A cave within a cave. Lance is cautious as he pads forward; Dragonair aren’t known for spooking easily, even with more timid personalities, so whatever lies ahead…well. Lance won’t take unnecessary risks.
Of course, that goes out the window when a quavering voice from the gloom says his name. “Lance!”
“Silver!” Lance surges forward then, ignoring the warning cry from Dragonair and the frustrated shout from Clair. Danger be damned, Silver’s here, and he’s going to get him out of this cave.
His boots pound against the rock floor beneath him, splashing in the puddles that cover most of the ground. Dragon’s Den had always been miserably wet. But that’s not what Lance is zeroed in on, not when he can see the shocking red of Silver’s hair stretching up over a curious rocky outcropping. He doesn’t notice the odd glow of the walls. He doesn’t notice the ripples caused by faint tremors. He doesn’t notice the scrape of scales against rock. Just Silver.
Which is why he misses the swing of a massive blue tail until it collides solidly with his rib cage, sending him flying back and knocking the air out of him. Dazed, he sucks in a shaky breath and stares at the ceiling above.
Clair appears above him. “Arceus above, are you okay?”
Strange. She’s not really looking at him, but somewhere off to the left. Slowly, Lance eases himself into a sitting position, wincing as a stabbing pain shoots through his side. He exhales through his teeth. “Yeah. I’m fine. What…”
His voice trails off as he finally sees what he’d missed. Coiled between them and Silver is another Dragonair, larger than any Lance has ever seen. The sheer length of it seems to fill the whole cavern as it raises its head to tower over them. The glow from the walls leave its scales iridescent, making it almost hard to look at it. Dragonair isn’t a legendary Pokemon by far, but Lance could believe this to be an old god.
The serpent twists around to face them, a great forked tongue darting out from its mouth to taste the air. It can’t see, Lance realizes, spotting the milky orbs where clear eyes should be. In spite of its aggressive stance, poised to strike, it doesn't move closer. A warning, then. He flings an arm out towards his cousin. "Clair!"
"I know!" In her hand is a Pokeball, ready to let fly, but it stays in her palm. Good. She's realized it, too.
The Dragonair is nesting. It sees Silver as its young . Get out or get eaten. Lance has seen his fair share of bites and bruises.
Too bad he can't leave Silver here. Poor kid's been kidnapped by a Pokemon before; he's not about to let that happen again.
One step forward. Two. The Dragonair hisses and sways, head swiveling towards the sound of rocks crunching under boots. He pauses. Raises his hands. Third step.
Clouded eyes level with his. Lance stares into them, wondering about the things it has lived through. Had it ever been able to see? Had it ever been in the sun? Or had it lived its life in the deepest caverns of the den? How many of the Dratini and Dragonair and Dragonite around Blackthorn had been born here?
An old memory bubbles to the surface. A story, passed down from his grandfather, and from his grandfather before him. Nobody’s quite sure how long the dragons have resided in the den, but legend has it that the cavern is as old as Johto itself, that deep within it lies the heart that beats to keep the region alive. How deep does it go? Where is its source?
Lance has never held much stock in legends. Now, though…well, maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks.
“I just want the boy back,” Lance murmurs, his voice hushed, level. His heart can’t quite say the same as he shuffles another inch forward. “He belongs with me. Us. You know he can’t stay here.” A low growl forces him to pause again. But he raises his head. “He’s my kid,” Lance says, a little louder. “Not yours.”
The Pokemon whips its tail against a nearby rock, cleaving it in two. Lance doesn’t dare allow himself to flinch. At this point, he can’t afford to.
Slowly, the Dragonair dips its great head, brushing its snout against the top of Lance’s head. For a moment, time is frozen. While the Pokemon is barely putting pressure on him, Lance feels nothing but the weight of the moment. A second. A minute. A thousand years.
Then the great beast turns and slithers back towards the rocky nest. For a brief, terrifying moment, Lance’s heart turns to ice as it lowers its head towards Silver. But all it does is nuzzle its snout against his cheek before turning once more and disappearing into a crevice near the back of the cavern. Barely a moment passes before Lance surges forward towards the nest.
“Lance!” Silver tumbles over the edge and into Lance’s waiting arms, holding on tightly to whatever he can get a grip on. And Lance, for his part, isn’t much better. He wraps his arms tightly around the boy, then tugs his cape around him for good measure.
“Shh. I’ve got you, you’re safe.”
Everything about this seems wrong. From Silver getting lost in the first place to the way he’s clinging, Lance is almost convinced that they’d been led astray by something other. But then Silver lifts his head and sniffs. “Took you long enough.”
There’s the snark Lance has grown rather fond of. He barks a relieved laugh. “Sorry, kid. Let’s get out of here.”
Silver says nothing, only curls closer to Lance's chest. Unexpected as it is, the questioning noise is more so. Lance looks down to see Silver frowning at the Teddiursa plush still in Lance's hand. Had he really faced off an ancient dragon with a doll? The whole situation is ridiculous, really.
He presses the bear into Silver's hands as he shifts his grip on the boy. "I think this is yours." He turns to Clair. "Ready?"
"Finally." Clair sweeps out without another word. Lance follows, casting a single glance back into the cavern.
Thank you for keeping him safe.
*****
It’s dark when Silver comes to, causing him to shoot up in a panic, his heart racing in his chest. He expects to see damp rock. Glittering scales. He certainly feels the cold coiled in his bones.
But that isn’t quite right. To his left, he hears a familiar rumble of a snore. Plus, whatever he’s curled up on is soft, not solid stone. Slow, he peeks over to see Lance. That’s right. They’d settled on the couch after dinner, put on a movie. He wonders which of them fell asleep first.
“Hey, brat,” a voice to his right whispers, nearly sending him jumping out of his skin. Clair comes into view as he spins his head around. “Sorry.” She holds up her hands placatingly from where she’s perched on the arm of the couch. “How are you feeling?”
Silver considers this. The word, unacknowledged until now, flies off his tongue before he can even think to stop it. "Small." Once it's in the air, the whole day pieces itself together. The frustration. The wandering. The fear. The loneliness.
Clair sighs, not unkindly. "Thought so. Here." She presses a sippy cup into his waiting hands. Silver barely looks at it before raising it to his lips. He does wrinkle his nose when ice water fills his mouth. Unimpressed, Clair tousles his hair. "You can have juice in a bit. Water first."
Appeased–barely–Silver slumps back against the cushions, then reconsiders. He takes a moment to wiggle around until his back is pressed against Lance. The steady rhythm of his breathing, loud as his snores may be, send a fuzzy feeling rolling through Silver from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.
"He was worried, you know," Clair says conversationally as she slides into the remaining couch space. She pauses. "Me, too."
Silver's tongue suddenly feels weighed down with rocks. He pulls off the spout. "Sorry."
"Shh." Clair reaches forward and places her hand on Silver's knee. Her thumb rubs against the knobby bone, and, like Lance's breath in his ear, sends Silver drifting just a little bit farther. "It's okay. We're not mad."
"You're always mad."
At that, Clair laughs. The sound is so unfamiliar to Silver that the only thing he can do is stare at her. She squeezes his knee before withdrawing her hand. "I'm pretty grumpy, huh?"
"Mhm."
"Honest, ain'tcha?" She shakes her head. Then she softens, a rare smile gracing her face. "Just gotta be more careful, yeah? Caves are dangerous for little dudes."
"Didn't know I was a little dude." It’s an admission Silver isn’t sure he should make, or one he wants to make. He’s supposed to be put together. To be able to stand on his own. Avoiding Clair’s eyes, he brings his cup back up to his mouth, if only to avoid talking anymore. The day had been long enough without any talk of feelings.
Luckily for him, Clair seems to be in agreement. With another sigh, she twists her body and pulls a blanket from the back of the couch. To Silver’s surprise, it’s his blanket. Not the one he uses every night, but the one he uses for times like this. He grasps the fuzzy material in one hand as Clair tucks it in around his lap and shoulders.
“There you go, kiddo.” Clair reaches down and scoops up his Teddiursa, which he hadn’t noticed had fallen. He gently squishes it to his cheek.
“Thank you,” he says. Chokes, really; he and Clair are usually at each other’s throats. To express gratitude is unheard of. But it’s an odd enough day. Strange to the point that Silver can’t quite refrain from holding out his hand. And it must be strange enough for Clair to take his hand and settle more comfortably against him.
Now it’s Silver’s turn to sigh. Not out of exasperation, but contentment. With Lance, with Clair, he’s safe. Whatever’s in the dark will only have to wait.