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“Off to the Survival Area already?” Palmer calls from the gate of the Fight Area at the retreating back of his son. To his credit, Barry doesn’t freeze in place and only slows from his mad rush out of the small town into a more normal walking pace. ‘Should’ve known he wouldn’t stop,’ Palmer thinks to himself with a shake of his head before jogging after him. Getting to his son, Palmer slaps him between the shoulder blades before asking with a forced smile, “Not gonna stick around?”
“Not if I can’t even get past Stavros,” Barry says plainly, not looking up at his father. Palmer takes the chance to wince, knowing exactly the problem. Stavros was a young Ace Trainer who, like Barry, hit the wall that was the Elite Four, though with several years more of experience. And that experience meant that oftentimes, Stavros was only one or two fights before himself on the Silver Print Challenge. “Besides, I’m not running away.”
Palmer lets out a breath at that, and nods as he keeps casual pace with his son between the hills of Route 225. “In that case, let me join you for this little walk.”
“You don’t need to, Dad. I’m sure you’ve got work,” Barry says, still looking ahead at the path instead of his father, passing the trio of Trainers right outside of Fight Area. “Besides, I’m just walking. Nothing big’s happening.” Though he says it with a carefree tone, Palmer knew his son well enough to know that he wasn’t taking this in stride like he was pretending to.
Palmer sighs and gives an exaggerated shrug as he keeps pace with his son. “Barry, do you know who makes my schedule?”
“You wouldn’t ever get a schedule made if you do it yourself,” Barry says, turning to look at his father for the first time with a smirk. “So I’m assuming it’s the Chairman of the League?”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Palmer exclaims with a shake of his head. “I do make my own schedules, though the Chairman has to approve my vacation time. And so, I get to end the work day when I please.” Palmer reaches over and ruffles Barry’s hair with a large smile across his face. “So let’s enjoy this walk together, kiddo.”
Barry swats his hand away and jumps back, pointing his finger indignantly at his father. “I’m fining you 1 million Poke for that!” Though it was said with solid conviction, that doesn’t stop Barry from physically recoiling when Palmer reaches for his wallet. “Wait, are you-?”
“I’m just checking what I have,” Palmer says, making a show of going through his wallet, slowly counting the ten 1000 Poke bills, leaving his son to stew in silence for a moment before closing it. “How about I pay for lunch and call it even?”
“Yeah, fine, Weavile your way out of another fine,” Barry says, pretending to be offended as he walks past his dad down the path, though his quickened pace tells Palmer that he wasn’t as torn up about his losses as when he had assumed when leaving the Fight Area.
The pair begin walking through the tall grass, the local Pokemon too cautious to challenge two Trainers at once. So, in their relative peace, Palmer decides to fill the air. “So, I saw that you came into town with Lucas. Haven’t seen him around since then, have you?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard about him cleaning house at the Arcade?” Barry says with a smirk, nudging his dad in the ribs lightly. “I assumed Dahlia would’ve been talking about it, cause he told me he was on a hot streak.”
“Oh, Ms. ‘Que Sera Sera’ hasn’t been happy, trust me,” Palmer says with a laugh. “She was complaining at the meeting earlier this week that some kid came in and seemed to read the board so well that he was either cheating, or somehow incredibly lucky.”
“Oh, it was definitely luck,” Barry says, leaping slightly as he turns around and causes the wooden bridge that they were walking across to bounce and sway. “Lucas was telling me that he was panicking about getting a swap, or giving Dahlia’s team more levels at the end. Said he felt bad vibes creeping in.”
Palmer chuckles as he rubs his chin, thinking back on what Dahlia had told him. “That kid’s really got some nerves then, ‘cause Dahlia thought he was cool as ice. Then again, if you’ve taken on Cynthia, it's not hard to take on a Factory Brain in a controlled setting, especially at Silver Rank. Still not easy, but Cynthia’s Garchomp does much more to instill fear than anything we have.”
“I think that’s why he didn’t take the Champion spot from her,” Barry says, slowing down to let Palmer catch back up and turning back around once he does. “He said that he could tell she wasn’t going full blast on him, and he didn’t want to take it without getting to her level.”
Palmer grimaces lightly and nods as he hears that. Cynthia’s team was already impressive at the level she would battle in the League, around level 65, but that was nothing compared to her actual strength. Cynthia stands at the pinnacle of current reigning Champions, with a team matched only by Kanto’s retired Champion, Red. “If that was his reasoning, then that’s a mighty hurdle to surpass.”
Barry simply nods with a light hum, and the father-son pair continue walking along the Route, greeting Trainers as they pass, but otherwise staying quiet until they reach the lake in the middle of the route. There, Barry slows to a stop and looks out across it to the forest below. Palmer brings himself to the edge of the water, and looks out across it as well. “Doesn’t compare much to Lake Verity, does it?” Barry shakes his head, the smile having faded from his face already as he looks out. “Remember when I took you fishing out there when you were a kid?”
Barry chuckles a little before responding. “Yeah, I had just turned 7. I wanted to catch a Heracross, and you said it would require patience.”
“Don’t know why I thought I could help with that, I’m just as bad as you,” Palmer says with a laugh, his smile staying on his face as the pair look over the water. “I was thinking that sitting there and trying to catch the Magikarp would help you out. Teach that sometimes, taking it slow is nice.”
“Then you started dozing off, and I took Milotic and Rhyperior’s Pokeballs for some battles,” Barry says, smiling fully. “You woke up to Rhyperior carrying me around on his shoulders while Milotic was sprinkling the grass around you.”
Palmer chuckles as he feels Milotic’s ball shake on his waist. “She was just trying to show off how she could do all of that without getting me wet. I was honestly lucky I didn’t bring the other three that day. That would’ve been a much bigger situation, especially if you had gotten out Heatran,” Palmer adds with a chuckle.
Whatever response Palmer was expecting, it doesn’t come as Barry instead stares down at the water with his shoulders shaking. As Palmer begins to bring a hand up to console him, Barry bursts out, “How are you able to do it?” Barry turns to him suddenly, small tears forming at the corners of his eyes being the only cracks in the mask of determination. “How are you able to battle like that? To succeed like that? What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?!”
Palmer winces, his whole body nearly recoiling at the intensity coming from his son. Looking up briefly and scratching the back of his head, he starts, “You’re not doing anything wrong, Barry.”
“But I am!” Barry shouts, drawing Palmer’s attention back down to him properly. “You wouldn’t know, because you’re never there! But I obviously have to be doing something wrong, if I’m hitting a wall at Stavros!” At this point, tears are beginning to flow down his cheeks as he rubs the heel of his palm against his eye. “You taught me how to fight, so I thought I would be able to handle the Gyms, and I could, but…”
While Palmer wants to say something, or do something to physically console his son, he holds back. Barry needs to let these emotions out instead of bottling them up like he probably has been since Palmer joined him. So, even as his son cries into his hands and his tears fall to earth, Palmer stands and listens.
“But I can’t stack up,” Barry finally rattles out through half a sob. “I tried to help Lucas with Team Galactic, and I got steamrolled. And then I went up against the Elite Four, and I lost to Flint!” With a deep breath, he looks up at Palmer, tears still swimming in his eyes. “To Flint, Dad! He barely even has Fire-types!
“Yet here you are,” he continues, gesturing towards Palmer, “standing at the top of the Battle Frontier with three legends of the Region at your hip! How am I supposed to be able to get to your level if I can’t even compete with someone beneath you?” At this point, Barry begins shaking, then grabs and pulls at his hair, roughly messing it up. “I’m just worthless, aren’t I?!”
‘Ok, that’s enough of that.’
Palmer kneels down in front of Barry and gently grabs ahold of his elbows. “Barry.” Hearing his voice, Barry swallows a sob and stops pulling at his hair, his eyes still screwed shut. “Barry, please look at me.” With a rattling breath, Barry lowers his arms and looks at Palmer, tears quickly falling as he opens his eyes. “Take a deep breath. Count to ten, then let it out.”
Barry breathes in deep, holds… Holds… Then lets it out, nearly coughing as a sob tries to escape with it. “There you go,” Palmer says calmly, giving his son a smile. “Keep that up until you’re able to speak without losing your breath, ok?” Barry nods with an unsteady breath, closing his eyes to focus on his breathing. Taking the chance, Palmer sits down on the shoreline, facing the lake while keeping Barry in his periphery.
After a few moments, Barry sits down next to him and leans into his arm, which Palmer lifts to bring around his son and holds him close. “I just feel like I’m failing at being a good Trainer, Dad…”
“I get the feeling, Barry,” Palmer says softly, giving his son a squeeze. “When Scott came to me about his idea to expand the Battle Tower from Johto to Hoenn, I took the chance to start the Tower here as well. But none of the cities here in Sinnoh wanted to host such a facility nearby, unlike Olivine, and I didn’t have the capital to start it myself, unlike Scott.”
Since Barry doesn’t say anything, Palmer takes the chance to continue. “At the time, you were a toddler. Just started walking. I was still a Trainer in Crasher Wake’s gym, his prized pupil, and I had been given an idea that could change our lives. But it was beyond me.”
“But you have it now,” Barry says softly, his voice a little froggy from the crying.
“I do,” Palmer says with a quick laugh. “Because I put more energy into it than most people would feel necessary, and had support from people who didn’t want to see such a spark fade.” Palmer reaches down to his hip and pulls off Milotic’s Pokeball, holding it in front of Barry. “Back then, I was a League wash-out, who went up against the Elite Four and failed three back to back attempts. I’d already lost a chance at making my mark as a Trainer, so I couldn’t let this one slip by.”
Barry gently nods his head, then croaks out. “So what, do I just swallow the pain, or be more positive to fight this funk?”
“In a more optimistic world, probably,” Palmer says with a bit of a laugh. “But no. When I was in your situation, I looked at the impossible challenge I had chosen, and then looked back at myself, and felt so much… anger. Anger at Bertha and her Elite Four for seeming impossible to beat. Anger at the League for being put into the position of being a potential replacement for Crasher Wake. Anger at Cynthia for doing what I couldn’t do.”
“That doesn’t sound like you at all,” Barry says. “You were always smiling and laughing, I don’t think I could see you being angry.”
“Of course not,” Palmer says, gently shoving his son. “What kind of father would I be if I acted so angry around you? No, I used it as fuel instead.
“Spite is strong if you use it right,” Palmer says with a tight smile. “You don’t want it to turn into self-loathing, so you need to be careful. But a bit of spite towards your current circumstance can push you to heights you might’ve thought impossible.” Palmer pauses for a second, and dry swallows before continuing. “So, instead of seeing an insurmountable mountain and giving up-”
“You dig your heels in and make it a fight.” Barry’s statement - and it truly was a statement far more than a guess - interrupts Palmer as the teen leans away from his father and sits up. “If I want to climb that mountain, I can’t let Stavros, Flint, or anyone stop me.”
Leaning back in his sitting position, Barry rocks forward and springs onto his feet, standing at the edge of the water. Taking a deep breath, he leans back, and shouts, “MY NAME IS BARRY, AND I’M GOING TO BEAT MY DAD AND BECOME THE GREATEST TRAINER IN SINNOH!”
As Barry lets out a wordless roar, emptying his lungs before breathing in to repeat the action, Palmer chuckles and stands up. “We should get moving if we want to get to the Battleground before they finish the lunch specials,” he says, patting Barry on the back as he starts walking off.
“On it!” Barry shouts, running ahead of his father with relentless energy.
+++
There are two ways into Palmer’s office; a door that leads to the battle arena on the 49th floor, so that he could leave paperwork quickly to meet with a challenger, and an elevator that goes from the backroom of the lobby directly to his office, so that he has an easy way up and down. As the elevator chimes, Palmer looks up from the payroll sheet Thorton had submitted the day prior to see who was arriving. Only certain people had access to the elevator, primarily Tower staff, the other Frontier Brains, and…
“Palmer, my boy!” Crasher Wake shouts from the opening door of the elevator, smiling wildly and spreading his arms wide as Palmer gets up to greet him. “How are you doing?!”
“Master Wake!” Palmer says with a boisterous laugh as he closes the distance and gives his old Master-at-Training a tight hug, which Wake returns in back-crushing power. “What brings you down here, instead of the Battleground?”
“Oh, I’m not going up to the pub that often, surely,” Wake says, tugging at the bottom of his mask sheepishly.
Palmer simply laughs and heads back to his desk, with Wake following behind. “I do see you and your Pelipper soaring by every so often,” Palmer says, before pulling an envelope out of his desk and tossing it over to the Gym Leader, who catches it as he takes his own seat. “Here.”
“What’s this, Palmer?” Wake asks as he tears open the envelope and looks inside, taking only a moment to sputter and put it back on the desk. “Ok, what in the briny hell is that for?”
“Instructor fees, or more realistically, babysitting fees,” Palmer says, nudging the 50,000 Poke back towards Wake. “I love my son to death, but I also know that he can be a bit of a pain like I was. And since he washed out hard here at the Tower, I’m sure he’s been bothering you for training for the last four months now.”
Wake pauses for a second before picking the envelope back up. “I mean, I’ll take this since you’re offering, but I’m not his Master.” He taps the envelope against his leg in thought. “I haven’t even done anything close to teaching him other than our few 1-vs-1 battles when he’s acting as the Battleground’s bouncer.”
“The bouncer?” Palmer asks, quirking an eyebrow as he leans forward to listen closely.
“Yeah, your boy has decided to challenge each of the regulars as we go into the pub since he isn’t allowed in without a proper invite,” Crasher Wake says, giving Palmer a pointed look before laughing from his chest. “Single Pokemon on each side, and he lets us through, win or lose. Even with such minor stakes, he’s breaking out some really good strategies against us.”
Palmer can’t suppress the grin that splits his face. “Any that you feel like sharing?” When Wake gives him a look of admonishment, he leans back and puts his hands up in defense. “I am not trying to plan out counterstrategies, I promise!”
“Your son is pouring his heart into beating you, so you’re not even getting which way the wind is blowing from me,” Wake says as his stern expression cracks into a smile. “Though I’m sure the strategies he’s using against us aren’t the kind he’s gonna use on you. Those would be the ones he used to beat Lucas the other day.”
Palmer pauses halfway through reaching for his bottle of water at that, processing what Wake just told him. “Barry beat Lucas?” Even though the disbelief in his tone would likely hurt Barry to hear, Lucas was quickly gaining a reputation, akin to Cynthia herself. A force of nature in battle, with a team of Pokemon specially trained to handle almost any situation.
Crasher Wake smirks and nods as Palmer takes a long sip of his water. “He did. Admittedly, Lucas had just come down from training in Stark Mountain, but that didn’t seem to be unusual for the two.” Palmer shakes his head in an understanding way; Barry and Lucas wouldn’t stop to change circumstances, and would never consider that a handicap or excuse. “Even better, because Lucas came into Battleground right after to tell us he was challenging Cynthia again, this time for the title.”
“If he’s going for that, then she’s got a fight on her hands,” Palmer says with a chuckle. As he was about to continue, though, the pager on his desk chirps. Palmer sighs and stands up, coming around the table to hug the standing Crasher Wake. “Sorry to cut this short, Master, but work calls.”
Wake laughs as he squeezes his former student tight, then slaps him on the back. “Don’t worry about it, Palmer. I was just trying to sneak in before he did.” With a wink, Wake heads back to the elevator, and Palmer smiles.
Looks like Barry didn’t want to lose out again, huh?
+++
By the time that Palmer had made it down the hall to the battlefield, Barry was already tapping his foot impatiently. As Palmer turns the corner and raises his hand in greeting, Barry points his arm out at him. “You’re late, dad! I can’t believe I had to wait on you!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Palmer calls down the battlefield, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “Master Wake came by to chat, so I was a little tied up.” Barry sighs and relaxes his posture, nodding in understanding. “Seems like he knew you were coming by, though.”
“Yeah, I told him this morning I was going to make another attempt,” Barry says, smiling wider than Palmer has seen him smile in months, since he and Lucas had first arrived in the Battle Area. “That I’d finally beat my old man.”
Palmer’s face breaks into a grin to match his son’s. “So, you’re at the peak, ready to climb over?”
“Of course!” Barry says, stamping his foot down and restlessly waving his arms. “I’ve been training for this! Nothing can hold me back! Not Stavros! Not my fears! And definitely not you!”
Seeing his son getting pumped up, Palmer can feel the blood rushing through his body, burning hot in anticipation. ‘My wife’s right,’ Palmer thinks to himself as a barely contained mania splits his face. ‘Barry is like a little clone of myself with that battle thirst.’ “Alright then, Barry! I can already tell you’ve grown impressively since you’ve arrived here! So, I want you to show me!” Both Trainers reach down and grab Pokeballs. “Show me the bond you’ve built with your Pokemon! Show me the skill you’ve acquired as a trainer!”
Barry psyches himself up by dancing wildly in place, then throwing out his Pokeball. As it flies, he shouts out, “If you lose, I’m fining you 1 million Poke!” Barry’s Pokeball hits the ground, bursting with light to reveal his Heracross.
Palmer throws his head back in laughter as the air around the arena whips into a small frenzy from the Heracross’ excited flight. “That’s a deal! But you better be careful, Barry! Because if you lose…” Palmer throws out his Pokeball, which bursts open to reveal his Milotic as he bends his knees and throws his arms out with a shout.
“I’m fining you 10 million Poke!”
Palmer already knows he is not looking forward to the awkward call with his wife later about the inevitable bank transfer.