Archive of Our Own

There are many different kinds of Pokémon, all with their own characteristics and experiences to differentiate them from each other. There are also just as many different kinds of people, and combinations between all of them are just as numerous and varied as stars in the sky.

Clemont can’t say he’s caught a large amount of Pokémon, but he’s definitely gone through some catches that he thought he would have never done in the last few weeks alone.

Bunnelby after a battle for a home, Dedenne for his sister. And then there’s Chespin.

Clemont really didn’t understand Chespin.

The day started as normally as any other day: Clemont waking up early and setting up the campsite, pulling out the ingredients needed for breakfast (a quick and simple porridge with some honey and Berries added after), struggling to open the table on his own once again and getting snapped in between its legs (again).

Pulling himself out of the havoc he created a few twenty-three minutes later, Clemont sighed and dusted himself off. They’ve been out on the road for the last three days and he still felt unaccustomed to the relative wilds that surrounded Lumiose City, let alone setting up outdoor tables with his own two hands. He didn’t want to keep relying on the help of Ash or (in the more likely scenario) Serena with this, especially with how close they were to… his home.

It’s been a while coming, to be honest. They were taking a different path from the one that led them to and from Santalune and even to the Battle Chateau itself, and so there would be more camping nights than PokéCentre nights-- a new thing that Serena had to get used to. Glancing over to where the girls’ tent was, Clemont let himself hold a small smile. Looks like the infectious power of joy got to her in the end. Ash was preparing for his next Gym Battle, still invigorated after the events of the Battle Chateau, and the PokéVision competition drew ever nearer, situated in the heart of Kalos.

Lumiose City was so close.

Prism Tower was so close.

Clemont… didn’t know if he was ready yet.

He shook his head and made his way back to the pot he left on the tripod, stirring it once again and checking its readiness. After burning his tongue (“Oww, so hot…”), Clemont set the spoon down; it was time to add the flavour.

He put his hand into the pouch that he recently filled with Bonnie’s help.

His fingers came up empty.

This is the third time in three days that this has happened. And shooting a look to his tent, Clemont had a sinking suspicion as to who was the culprit. He mentally filed a note to talk to said culprit later and continued with stirring the pot, instead pulling out honey (that was thankfully untouched) before extinguishing the flames and serving up breakfast.

And like clockwork, Ash’s sleepy body made its way out of the tent, his eyes not fully opened as he stumbled across the yard to the table. Serena and Bonnie both follow, the pair already dressed up and ready for the day, and it was easy for Clemont to just take his seat and eat his fill.

Another day, another step closer.

He mindlessly sets his dish aside after finishing, cleaning up and clearing the area after the others— declining offers of help and opportunities to battle or get behind the camera, his mind already occupied with plans and thoughts and blueprints and security feeds that he has poured over all night. Serena brought out Fennekin and Ash decided on leaving all of his Pokémon out in the open, the loud, clangorous sound of the congregation already grating on Clemont’s nerves.

It’s not their fault, he knew it. If anything, it was all his.

He’s thought about every scenario countless times, he’s planned it out and done the maths. Clemont was going to take back Prism Tower (without them knowing any better is ideal) and then let the others know of his terrible secret, after everything is fixed, and then he’ll tearfully, but no less like an adult, walk away and resign the rest of his life to being the Gym Leader that he is supposed to be. Give or take.

And for that to happen, he needed Bunnelby to be as well-rested and secure as he could be. They’ve had their fun before, but with them nearing Lumiose again, Clemont couldn’t take the risk. Pokémon out when needed. Battle in moderation and on their own. Nutrition and exercise first and foremost. The best for the Pokémon that will help him get his Gym back.

But Chespin?

“Where did all of my PokéPuffs go?!”

Well, there was a reason why Clemont wasn’t so keen on relying on him, and it wasn’t because of his skill to disappear (or make things disappear).

Clemont sighed and walked over to where the girls were, his hands tightening in his pockets as he felt that emptiness on his side again.

He should’ve known that he wouldn’t have been satisfied with only Berries for breakfast.

Chespin was a hungry Pokémon.

Clemont knew that, ever since the first day. He’s been trying his best to accommodate that hunger, because it’s his duty as a Trainer to make sure that none of his Pokémon are left wanting and because this is his friend and because he can’t imagine the force that would drive a living being to inhale a cake slice in under a minute with the tiny body that the Pokémon possessed. Even if they weren’t his only hope to get into the Gym.

And look: Clemont doesn’t anger easily. In fact he’s too quick to forgive, to roll over, to give it up before ever starting in the first place. He’s used to losing everything, and so it doesn’t bother him as much when he noticed that some Berries were missing, or there was fur stuck in the honey jar, or that one of his Pokéballs felt a little more emptier than before. It’s fine. That’s fine. He’ll make do.

But when it involved his other friends?

Well, Clemont had to do something. He’s the Trainer, after all. He had to set the expectation.

“Chespin, what you did was wrong.” Chespin had his back faced to him, picking at his teeth as he yawned. Clemont went down to his knees and tried to shuffle closer, looking at his Pokémon. “You shouldn’t have stolen from Serena like that. She worked hard on those PokéPuffs for everyone to share. Not just you.”

It was so embarrassing, noticing at the same time as everyone else who the true culprit was. His neck itched and his face warmed when he realised that this whole situation should’ve been prevented by his own hands, that he should’ve been firmer with his Pokémon, that this reflected poorly on him (and he didn’t need that, they were so close to Lumiose). Clemont managed to get Chespin out with his Aipom Arm and removed him from the scene, profusely apologising the whole time, but now he’s stuck talking to a wall that wouldn’t listen.

Ash looked up to Gym Leaders, and Gym Leaders were walls that Trainers had to climb to get into the League.

Clemont just had to be better than that. “Chespin, you have to listen to me!”

“Cheeee.” The Pokémon got up, lazily patting his distended belly as he raised an eyebrow towards him. Clemont shouldn’t let that go. 

He let it go. Standing up, he gave his most displeased look at Chespin. “You have to apologise to her, okay? That kind of behaviour is unacceptable.”

Chespin somewhat shrugged at that, still rubbing his stomach as he waddled back towards the campsite. Clemont tried to reach out to him, tried to tell him to stop, listen to me—

(Thunder, bright lights, the glint of metal)

But he lets him go. He always let his Pokémon go.

Chespin, obviously, does not heed the warning.

Ash was frowning as he looked over the burnt Grass-Type a little later in the day. “Man, he’s a hungry guy for sure.”

Wasn’t that obvious. Clemont sighed through his nose as he put down his project and walked over to where the girls sat, feeling that familiar refrain on his tongue. Bonnie is comforting a crying Dedenne and also trying to reprimand Chespin, but the boy only had eyes on the baker of the extremely desired PokéPuffs.

“Well, it happened again.”

He let himself take it. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. What can I do to make it up for you?

“And there you go again.” Serena wasn’t angry— Clemont doubted that he'd seen her mad at an animate object (inanimate ones were fair game). Fennekin was raging mad of course, which was what led to the altercation that transformed the usual green-brown of Chespin’s fur to ashy soot. But, Serena, well— she was tired, and annoyed, and rightfully upset, and his Pokémon was the cause.

Chespin was always the cause when it came to situations like this. “My offer to make a cooking machine still stands, although I would need to fine-tune its focus to—“

“Clemont, listen to me.” The inventor went mum, and Serena sighed. Shaking her head, she stood up and took the handle of her now-empty basket. “You know I don’t need any of that.”

“Then how about a new mixing machine, since you’ve always needed to wait to get to the Pokémon Centre for that.” He had to make up for it somehow. There has to be something he can do, some way he can make himself useful.

“Tempting…” Serena looked back at him, something like worry creasing the area between her eyes.

Clemont… Look, he didn’t need worry or pity from anyone. She, the new Trainer, worrying about him and his Pokémon? “Please. It’s the least I can do.”

They don’t talk about the Donphan in the room. 

She put a hand on his own shaking ones, trying to look brave. Serena just started her journey and she was braver than he ever was. “Hey. It’s okay. I know it’s not your fault.” She bit her lip, looking conflicted. “…I should’ve put them in a better place, to be honest. Been too worried about human hands to think about the Pokémon. But c’est la vie! There’s always next time.”

Clemont tried to mirror that reaction. He’ll always let it go, especially if it was made easy to. “Sure! Thank you so much for being so kind.”

“It’s the truth, is it not?” She laughed, and he nodded, and his heart kept thudding in his chest like footsteps growing ever closer to its final destination.

10 kilometres. 9. 8.

There’s always next time, it’s true, even if the number is never guaranteed.

“Bro! Chespin’s gone again!”

They don’t talk about it, but he can feel their judging gazes all the same.

According to Serena’s portable device, they weren’t going to get to the next Pokémon Centre until the next day.

That was okay, though. The forest provided enough cover for Clemont to slip away, bringing his bag along with him as he waved his hand at every accusation of ‘blowing up the forest’ and ‘trying to hide evidence of a new lady friend’ and ‘making something so undeniably cool that [he] has to bring back!’.

He’s lied about everything else. This was practically the truth in its own twisted way; Clemont was experimenting on something, was hiding out with a friend (although he was pretty sure Bunnelby was no lady), and, if he was successful, it would be undeniably cool.

Finally setting up the area, he pulled out Bunnelby’s Pokéball and summoned him out. “Hello, Bunnelby. It’s going to be the usual practice, but with a few small changes.”

The Digging Pokémon looked around, waiting patiently for the explanation as he turned his attention to his Trainer once more. Clemont walked forward, hands behind his back as he gestured to the three trees that he marked with silver nails embedded on their trunks. “I want you to hit each of these targets with Mud Shot, before following it up with Double Slap.”

Bunnelby hesitantly moved forward, moving from one target to another and powering up Mud Shot before finishing up with Double Slap. Clemont monitored the scene with his tablet on hand, calculating numbers and watching for time, strength, efficiency.

Clemont frowned as the Pokémon finished with the last one, looking down at his tablet and then at the scene. “That was… significantly less power than I expected.” Adjusting his glasses, he made sure to check the trees before bending down next to Bunnelby and examining him. “Maybe your Ability doesn’t come into play without moving targets? Pokémon? Stress, maybe?”

Bunnelby shifted himself away, his ears laying low by his side. Clemont stood up next to him, still lost in thought.

The thing is, Clemont knew that Bunnelby had strength that was admirable and notable— Strength that he has used against Team Rocket and that poacher’s Diggersby, strength that he used to protect the Pokemon of the subway system. He’s consistently shown that strength in every other instance of battle, so how come the results are showing up empty now?

Clemont shook his head, opening a new sheet. “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, we’ll practice dodging and your Dig attacks, okay?” Not even looking up from the tablet, he called out, “Now, use Dig!”

The Normal-Type quickly jumped into the air and slammed his ears together, spinning them to make a drill to slam into the ground and disappear. Clemont mapped out possible exits and called out commands and marked out every note he could for the next hour.

He needed to be prepared.

“Double Team, let’s go!”

He needed to be ready.

“Faster, faster!”

Lumiose City was waiting, and Clemont will be ready the next time he stepped foot in it. No matter what.

He won't be weak again.

(he shakes off the darkness slipping at the edge of his vision and powers on, stronger than ever)

“Do a battle with us!”

They were both inside the tent, the newcomer holding the flap open and standing in front of Clemont as the night started to fall. The inventor's brain froze for a moment, desperately rebooting after that statement. Him; battle; Ash.

Ash, who was smiling at him and rubbing his nose like there was nothing wrong with that statement.

(There was everything wrong with that statement.)

Probably noting the delayed response, Ash continued. “I know that you’ve been having trouble understanding your Pokémon lately. Battling has always helped me understand my team, so it should really help with you too!”

Clemont’s eyes quickly snagged upon the Pokémon next to the Battle Trainer and— Oh, of course. It’s Froakie today. That would make sense; that Pokémon was always up for a battle, even though it refrained from a Gym one when given the opportunity. He wondered if Froakie would refuse if he knew what he was. “But… I’m not like you.” And it’s late and his Pokémon were tired and Clemont wasn’t feeling it, that’s why he was staying inside away from everybody and away from everything.

It wasn’t about the practice he already had. It wasn’t about Chespin. It wasn’t about Lumiose. “It’s getting late, Ash.”

“And that’s why it’s the perfect time to do it!” Laughing at his confused face, Ash offered a hand. “You’re always thinking too much at night, so this battle should give you the answers you need. Hopefully you’ll get a good rest and some good ideas after this!”

“Uhh…” That was terrifyingly good insight. That hand was hovering in front of him, full of promises and tough strategies and big, big, too big trust and love and everything good in the world. Clemont took it (he always did). “Well… okay then. If you insist.”

“Yes!” Ash exclaimed as he pulled his friend up, almost stumbling backwards with a laugh as Froakie cautiously hopped away from the commotion. “We’ve got a battling partner, Froakie! Let’s go let’s go letsgo —”

Clemont was quickly yanked into a standing position, glasses almost falling off his face as he was dragged out of the dimly-lit tent and into the cool night. The campfire was still crackling, reds and golds illuminating the dark sky. Ash’s face was still visible even then— smile splitting the lower half of his face, teeth glinting in the light, eyes reflecting the glow of the fire behind him.

Ash was so achingly bright. Some days, Clemont can’t stand near him.

It’s beyond electric. It’s beyond flames. “So, I’m guessing that you’re going with Froakie?”

“Yep!” Ash finally separated from him, fingers slipping away as he jogged forward and left a big gap between the two of them. Not too close from the fire, and yet not too far away. The Kantonian must’ve planned for this: he’s never this considerate.

Ash laughed again at the look Clemont shot him. “Hey! I know not to battle next to the campfire! I’m not that new, you know.”

“Yesterday you tried to swim against the current while carrying Pikachu. Next to a waterfall.”

“We don’t talk about that.”

Clemont sighed, readying his stance. There was no way to get out of this battle; might as well get it over with. “One on one?”

“Can we do two on two this time?”

The inventor froze, hand already curled over Bunnelby’s ball. Ash continued, “I mean, you have two Pokémon and I’ve got two Kalos Pokémon too, you know. We’re both new at this and it has been a while since we last battled, so I thought we might as well have it now! …If that’s okay with you?”

“Uh…” IT WAS NOT OKAY IT WAS NOT DON’T SAY— “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Clemont will always, always, bow down to the stronger need. He’s so, undeniably weak like this. It was the worst trait for him.

His mind kicked into gear as his heart panicked, trying to read the field. Grassy with some rocks and bare ground. Night, nine thirty-three PM or twenty-one thirty-three hours. Half moon out. Ash, experienced Trainer with Froakie, a Water Starter recently obtained.

Clemont threw out Bunnelby anyway.

Ash whistled as the light died down, looking at Clemont with something that looked like appreciation. It made him feel wrong, like lying through your teeth to a baby. “Wow, you’re really going up against the Type chart here, aren’t you? Definitely didn’t expect that. Well, we’ll still give it our all, so don’t expect us to hold back! Froakie, use Bubble!”

Only good move against him was Double Slap, and that required close quarters. “Bunnelby, dodge!”

The rabbit jumped out of the way, trying to weave through the barrage of bubbles that Froakie blew out. Ash’s Pokémon had a keen eye if anything else— multiple of the shots managed to land, and Bunnelby was left wincing at the end of it all. Not to be outdone, or rather, not to be left behind, Clemont called out, “Now, go for Double Slap!”

Bunnelby shot forward, ears bent behind him as he ran towards Froakie. Ash called out in turn to use Pound, and the Bubble Frog Pokémon pulled out a glowing hand to meet the attack dead-on.

But it was called Double Slap, and while Froakie managed to stop the first ear as it came swinging down he was open to the next hit, which pushed him a great distance away. Coughing as the dust settled, Froakie gave Bunnelby a nod in acknowledgement. Bunnelby merely watched on impassively, still nursing a sore paw.

Clemont was the same. “Don’t let up! Keep using Double Slap.” That was one of Ash’s strategies: to keep going on until the enemy was defeated. It was foolhardy, but the inventor couldn’t deny the results, looking over as the ears slammed into Froakie again and again—

(and those hands reaching towards him, electricity wrapping over each digit as those cold blue eyes watched over—)

“Froakie, now’s your chance to use Bubble!”

“Bunnelby, use Dig!” But Clemont’s mouth worked too slowly, and Ash was grinning like he knew the next step to this dance; Froakie mirrored that look as he merely jumped and aimed the bubbles into the hole.

“Bunnelby!”

Stupid.

His Pokémon just barely came out of the burrow, falling to his stomach and lying down there.

So stupid.

“...Bun.”

“Bunnelby, return!” Clemont’s hands were shaking by his side and his glasses were looking a little misty right now, but he forced himself to take the other Pokéball. He had to finish this. “Chespin, come on out!”

The Grass-Type shook his head as he was summoned outside, looking back at his Trainer as if wondering why he was facing Froakie. Clemont bit his lip as he looked up at Ash, who just finished giving a quick talk to his Pokémon before waving to the inventor. “Looks like it’s Chespin’s turn! You ready, Chespin?

“Che?!” Now that look was sheer confusion. 

Clemont couldn’t help but try to make the situation clear to him, even if it was useless (because Chespin wasn’t interested in battles and Clemont was a terrible Trainer anyways). “We’re going up against Ash and Froakie here, two on two. Bunnelby already tried his best, so now it’s your turn.“

“Kie-kie fro. Fro-kie, fro.” And that was Froakie, waving a dismissive hand towards Chespin. Chespin stomped his foot down multiple times, spines sharpening almost instantly. It reminded Clemont of Bunnelby’s reactions to being petted, but with Chespin it was anger that was fuelling that action, his brow creased in a way that was… different from his usual laissez-faire attitude.

Give you the answers you need. All this battle was doing was giving him more questions. “We’ll start first! Chespin, go for Pin Missile!”

Chespin almost growled as he shot out the projectiles, aiming them to where Froakie sat. Ash’s Pokemon dodged nimbly, moving around each glowing seed, but Clemont wasn’t going to let up. “Now! Vine Whip!”

“Pound!” 

Ash was fast, sure, but Chespin was already pushing forward and wrapping his vine around Froakie’s hands right when the last Pin Missile landed. “Che-pin!” the small Pokemon crowed as he slammed Froakie on the ground, dragging the Pokémon towards him with a smirk on his face as he readied him for the final attack.

Wait. 

(Froakie wasn’t struggling.)

“It’s a trap, Chespin! Let go now!” Clemont couldn’t have said it sooner; Froakie suddenly sprung to his back legs to push off Chespin— the latter having just moved out of the way to have the forelegs slam the ground next to his feet instead.

Too close too close TOO CLOSE— “We really couldn’t sneak anything past you, could we? You and Chespin are pretty good, I’ll say that. But I think it should be Fletchling’s turn right now.”

Fletchling… Clemont tried to bring his attention back to the moment now, tried to ignore his crawling skin and his glasses that were really misty now, rubbing his glasses clean before watching the bird Pokémon that was flying circles around Ash and Chespin.

Going strictly by Types, Clemont was at a disadvantage. But Ash was at a disadvantage before and still managed to make something out of it. “Pin Missile again, Chespin!”

“We’re not falling for that this time! Fletchling, Double Team!” All of a sudden the whole sky was full of chirping, looping birds, all of them keeping their eyes trained on the prey beneath them. Ash shot his hand up and yelled out next, “Now use Peck!”

Clemont’s seen Fletchling’s Double Team in action before; he has a tentative idea on how to counter it. “Chespin, Vine Whip them all down!”

“Pin-pin!” Chespin brought out his vines and twirled them around, trying to knock away every fake that was coming near. It was hard and Fletchling was fast, but after a few Pecks the Grass-Type finally knocked down the actual Pokémon and Clemont let out a huge breath. Finally.

Fletchling steadied itself in the air before chirping indignantly, staring down at Chespin. Chespin merely rubbed his nose confidently, still baring marks of the previous attacks. Maybe… “Chespin, you’re hurt. Are you sure you can go on?”

He was expecting a no. Chespin was so very lazy, and he already ate his full, and there was no way he could be still standing with the next well-placed attack.

“Che-pin-pin-pin!”

Clemont blinked as he lowered the hand holding the Pokéball. Ash called out, rather unhelpfully, “Seems to me that Chespin still wants to battle!”

The inventor's stomach flipped a little, and it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. He wanted this battle to end already. “...If you’re sure.”

Ash grinned and Fletchling chirped and Chespin chirruped and Clemont felt impending doom.

Tackle versus Peck.

(you know how the story goes.)

Two Pokéballs call back their respective Pokémon, and Clemont finally, finally went back into the tent. He curled up. He stared at the empty corner.

He waited for precisely five minutes before sitting up and healing his Pokémon, before returning them and curling up again.

Ash doesn’t come back for the next hour. It was probably for the best.

His phone was ringing.

Blearily, Clemont pulled his bag down and felt around until he found the smooth edge of the device. He programmed many different vibrations to tell who was calling.

Dad.

It’s Dad.

And he accidentally took off Do Not Disturb mode for the last three days.

Clemont scrambled up to his knees, quickly putting on his glasses even though he knew that it was going to be a voice call only. Quickly taking in some deep breaths, he then pressed the button to answer. “Bonjou—”

“Why aren’t you answering anymore, son?!”

He licked his lips, subtly lowering the volume of the device. Ash may have vacated the tent, but that didn’t mean that there was no one to hear this conversation. “I’m sorry. I was… busy.”

“You’re always busy!” That was quieter, but no less charged. Clemont felt that twinge of disappointment from the receiver but still held resolute in the face of it all. A little softer, his father said, “You couldn’t visit home at least once in the last month?”

(Cramping hands, screeching sounds, a faint burnt smell.)

“I’m sorry.”

“Clemont.” Oh, how he always recoiled at the way his father said his name— so heavy with expectations that will never be fulfilled. “I know that your job doesn’t give you much free time, but if it’s really weighing on you that much—”

“No, no, I’m fine!” The inventor’s voice peaked a little, but he still kept going on. “It’s just, you know, there’s a lot I need to do and everything—”

“At least tell me that you’ve been sleeping at night—”

“I know what I’m doing, okay; just need to fix up some things—”

“Do you need my help, it’s really no bother to me—”

“I mean it, Papa! I don’t need any help!”

The line went silent for a few seconds. 

Clemont was panting, feeling like he ran a marathon. He checked the phone to make sure that he was still connected; his thoughts were racing around the whole time.

“I… Okay, son.” The usual rushing lilt of his father’s voice went flat with those words. Clemont felt empty inside. “Just… you know that I’ll always be here for you, right?”

“I know.”

“Is…”

The boy snuck a look to the tent’s closed flap. “Bonnie’s alright. We’re both okay. Everything is fine.”

“Okay, then. Well, I’ll take my leave now. But please, just visit. At least once.” A beat. “Au revoir.”

“Au revoir.”

A click.

Inside the Pokémon Centre, Serena ran into the kitchen with a bottled up scream, almost throwing her bag onto a very surprised Ash as Bonnie laughed at the whole scene.

Clemont already slipped away at that point, quickly making his way through as the large screens in the front of the centre played the current news. He didn’t want anyone to see him as he went through the winding corridors and through sliding doors to come outside once more, but not through their usual entry point.

At the back of every Pokémon Centre, there was a battlefield.

Lumiose City was so close, and that meant that Clemont had to be ready for every scenario. Battle included.

After checking around to make sure that it was all clear, the inventor pulled out his Pokéball, readying himself to call out Bunnelby. But of course, nothing was ever easy for him and a zooming flash of light revealed another Pokémon instead.

“Chespin, che-che!”

Clemont wasn’t having this. “Chespin, I didn’t call for you.” He sighed, pulling out his other Pokéball. “Come back, you’re not getting Serena’s treats now.”

Chespin dodged the first beam and the second, looking indigent as he tapped his chest with a sharp squeak. “Che, che!” He punched the air a few times, acting out a boxing match.

He had no idea how the Grass Type knew what boxing was. “Look, it’s fine that we didn’t win against Ash. He’s an experienced Trainer and you were up against a Type disadvantage. We can even practice later if you want.” He readied the Pokéball again, trying to look firm. “But what we’re doing now is something more serious, and I don’t want you to get hurt. So please, come back.”

A vine wrapped around his wrist, and Clemont paused. A plaintive chirp echoed in the field, Chespin staring at him with that fiery determination.

Because Chespin was notoriously stubborn above all else. Above hunger and laziness and the very tall and distant tower looming in the background.

His hand wavered for a few seconds.

His lip trembled slightly.

Clemont shook his head, glasses glinting in the sun as he looked down at the Starter with an impassive face. “I’m sorry, but you won’t understand. Maybe next time.”

Chespin growled before moving another vine to try to snatch the Pokeball out of his hand; Clemont just managed to twist himself away and keep himself standing. His headache was rising, Lumiose was too close, he didn’t have time for this. “Chespin, what’s gotten into you?”

“Che-pin, ches che!” His other arm was still tangled with the first vine; Chespin briefly squeezed it in emphasis. Clemont suddenly hated that point of contact— it was too much like his nightmares and even his memories for him to think through the thickening haze in his head.

“You’re too focused on the wrong things. I’m actually trying to deal with a real problem here and all you’re focused on is—” A futile tug of war, his wrist hurting, the Pokemon’s vine stretching beyond its limits and pulling the body closer.

“Ches-pin! Ches-ches pin!” Teeth bared and spittle flying and narrowed eyes and so much anger underneath the blue open sky.

(The news report talked about dropping temperatures in the night.)

“Well, maybe, instead of causing more problems for everyone—” And he pulled off the initial vine, flatly watching it fall to the ground as he threw his arms out— “You should actually listen to your Trainer for once! But you can’t even do that one little thing, can you, Chespin?”

“Che?” The loud and thunderous voice suddenly became a whisper, sharp spines drooping and small face going slack with shock. Clemont didn’t bother to react to that; all he did was shake off his wrist and aim the Pokéball once more.

The Pokéball clicked open and this time the beam didn’t miss, sucking away the image as he turned his head away from the scene.

(He had to, you see.)

Clemont finally called out Bunnelby.

They worked on moving targets today.

After fourty minutes, he called him back and checked his tablet for notes, mail, security feed: all of them in angry red writing, all of them negative.

Surrounded by broken machinery and dust, Clemont breathed out and out and out.

He’ll be ready. He has to be.

It will all be worth it in the end.

“Okay, what’s up?”

“What’s what?” Ash mumbled through his stir fry. Serena elbowed him, not looking up as she tore into her baguette. Bonnie continued to glare at Clemont, almost standing on her chair as she positioned herself in a way that didn’t have elbows resting on the table.

Well, at least she was polite about that small detail. Clemont swallowed his spoonful of soup, before dabbing his mouth with the napkin. “I’ll have to agree with Ash’s previous statement, Bonnie. You know that you have to be more clear about—”

“You know what I mean!”

Clemont instinctively froze at the burst of movement before shaking it off. Geez, what was wrong with him? “I’m sorry about the Underground Direction Finder, if that’s what you mean.”

“Please don’t remind me of that,” Serena muttered under her breath. Ash elbowed her back, but she caught the arm. Even through her growing blush, she managed to snap out, “Is it that hard to have manners, Ash?”

“You started it!”

“Par ma vie, bro!” Bonnie shook her head vehemently, her hair moving around wildly. “No, not that! You’ve been avoiding us, haven’t you?”

The spoon shook in his right hand’s grip. He swallowed a few times, even though there was only air inside his mouth. The lights in the cafeteria were too bright right now. “I wasn’t aware I was making you feel that way.”

“I think you do.” Accurate and to the point. Serena let out a sharp hiss at that statement, and Clemont felt himself redden. Bonnie jabbed a finger out, looking madder than the time when he cancelled his visit home from the academy a few years back because he was busy with his final project. “Did you know that Ash almost caught a Skarmory the other day? That Serena and Fennekin were making practice videos and how to use the camera on their own?”

Clemont’s gaze gravitated towards Ash, who chuckled as he tapped his bowl with his fork. “To be fair, me and Pikachu almost got carried away— and I mean literally— because of that guy. It was only a few minutes though, and it was a tough opponent. Didn’t really expect to even see one this far out, haha!”

“You didn’t miss much, Clemont. I mean, it was a very short encounter.” And Serena was laughing it off as well, looking so uncomfortable as she shuffled in her seat and brushed off any breadcrumbs. “And besides, we didn’t do that much with the camera. I was doing a lot more research and baking than actual recording. Anyways, Bonnie, it's fine if Clemont wants to do his own work—“

“He’s been in the tent or in the forest the whole time, Serena; it shouldn’t be that hard to actually come out and actually see us.” Bonnie’s frown was so strange on her usually cheerful face, and Clemont was trying to avoid that potential explosion. 

Twisting his fingers, he tried to face her with all the strength he could muster, building up a shield with his words just in case. “I’ve made the food and done the work. To me, that’s more than enough.”

Instead of an explosion it was a simmering pot, temperatures rising higher and higher. “Then why bother travelling with Ash, then?” 

Ash looked down at his food, suddenly bashful, as Serena’s eyes ping-ponged between the two siblings. “You know I’m busy right now—“

“Is that what you tell Papa?”

The chair screeched against the plastic flooring, Clemont standing to his full height. The pot has now officially overflowed and overstayed its welcome. “That’s inappropriate and you know it, Bonnie,” he snarled, and all the members on the table flinched at the force of his voice.

The younger sister still kept talking, though. “You’re inappropriate! You can’t even fess up to the mistakes that you’ve been doing now with us anyways, so what are you actually busy with, huh?”

“This conversation is over, since it’s clear that you can’t be mature about this.” He pushed his chair back and turned away, putting his hands in his pockets as he left the cafeteria completely. Disregarding any words spoken afterwards in his general direction, Clemont then made his way into his room, feeling exhaustion suddenly slam into him as soon as he set sight on the door.

Open, close, slip shoes off, fall onto the bed facedown. His shoulders shook briefly.

What just happened?

His mind unhelpfully replayed every moment of that conversation, buffering on certain expressions and analysing tones and stances, physical or otherwise. Clemont shook his head as he pulled his hands over his eyes, rubbing at them before turning his head to face his bag next to the bed.

He might as well work on his inventions now while he was alone (of his own making) (it was better this way).

He pulled himself and his bag upwards, rummaging through the main pocket with both hands. His fingers brushed through many of his old projects that he managed to salvage— the Electricity Generator, the Omni-Directional Super-Sensitive Tracking Dish (note: he should make the names shorter in the future), the Pokémon Translator Device...

He paused on the Pokémon Translator Device. It’s been a while since he last thought of it, even though he bookmarked that invention in the ‘promising’ aisle of his notebook. It helped with understanding the desires of wild Pokémon, even though their thoughts wouldn’t really align with the anthropomorphic style that he initially planned it with. 

Clemont hasn’t been understanding his Pokémon as of late. This would be a roadblock that he would need to circumvent before reaching Lumiose City.

He pulled it out of the bag, not even wincing at the crumpled interface and exposed wires. Taking the compressed toolbox out of the side pocket, he then got to work.

There was a knock on his door.

“Not now!” Clemont didn’t want to face anyone right now. The last thing he wanted the others to see after the whole argument is his hands deep in another machine. At five fourty-one AM. He would be more worried about them if he had the brainspace left.

“It’s me, Serena!”

He hesitated. Ash and Bonnie could be behind her, this could be a trap, this could be a warning about something bad that happened because he left and he never got the chance to admit his problem or say sorry and now everything is—

“Clemont? Are you still there?”

He reluctantly pressed the button on his bag strap, gently manovering the Aipom Arm to open the door before retracting it once more.

It was just Serena, no explosive rush or angry expression on her face.

Clemont’s breath whistled out, low and hollowing. He returned his attention to the invention he was working on. To her credit she didn’t yell or get upset; she merely walked up to him and looked over his shoulder. “What are you making this time?”

Clemont looked up at Serena, who gave him a small wave as she sat next to him, before looking down at the machine on his lap. “Remember the Pokémon Translator Device?”

“The one that you used to translate those Pancham in the Bamboo Forest?” She gave him a look then, something that Clemont couldn’t truly decipher. “Please don’t tell me…”

“It doesn’t harm anyone!” he said quickly, stopping the visible train of thought in its tracks. She sighed, and he faced away. “If you don’t like it, you can leave. I’m not interrogating any Pokémon or planning to use it until it’s completely free of bugs, so there isn't anything to see over here.”

Serena shook her head. “That’s not why I’m worried, Clemont.”

Everyone is worried. He’s worried. If it’s about his invention, then, she can get in line. “If you’re looking for Ash, he’s out practicing with his team. He won’t be coming back for another hour so it would be best if you went now.”

“Hmm, and what if I’m looking for you?” At his blank expression, she sighed. “Well, at the very least, did you get your Pokémon to eat? I’ve got some PokéPuffs for them. Tried out a new flavour and everything, and yes, I’ve made sure they’re actually in the basket this time.”

Clemont’s mood couldn’t sour anymore if he tried, but he still went to get the Pokéballs out from the side of his bag. In a way, Serena was right: he should’ve given them more than just a bowl of specially enhanced pellets for tonight. He was… distracted, he guessed. Maybe that’s why…

Wait.

Serena peeked over his arm, noticing his expression becoming more panicked as seconds ticked by. “What happened? Did you—“

One of his Pokéballs is empty. It’s empty and it’s been empty for a while if the lack of warmth meant anything and it was— of course it was—

“Clemont? Are you okay?”

His breath finally went up his throat, coming out in a strangled gasp. “Chespin’s gone!” Oh no oh no OH NO—

Firm hands grip his shoulder, blue eyes staring into his own. “Breathe, Clemont. One, two.”

One, two.

One Pokéballs, two Pokéballs.

One new friend, two new friends.

One Gym Leader, two Gym Leaders.

One hand in front of him, two hands in front of him. Shaking, but suddenly crystal clear. Clemont gulped in oxygen like he was starving, rubbing his eyes before any tears came out. Serena let out her own sigh, still holding onto him. “Are you… okay, now?”

That was such a funny question. Lumiose City was only a day away, now. He shook his head, still cupping his head with his hands as he brought his knees up because Chespin’s gone that’s a whole Pokémon gone and it’s all his fault ALL HIS FAULT ALL HIS—

“Okay! I guess I was right to bring this, then.” A warm bottle nudged his legs, and he peeked out to see her mouth curl in a gentle smile. “Thought you might actually need something to drink after last night. Hot chocolate because you definitely don’t need caffeine right now.”

A second later and the warm drink was slipping down his throat, Clemont gulping it down like a man starved for the last few weeks. Serena laughed next to him, a bright tinkling sound, and it was so different (from Ash’s deep ones that come from his stomach and Bonnie’s giggle that always ends in a snort).

His heart panged as he put the bottle down. “I’m sorry. I’ve been such a burden to you all.”

“Don’t say that.” Her smile was just as warm as the drink she made. “You’ve been doing so much for us, all of the time. It’s okay if you… need some alone time, I guess. We just missed seeing you. And for the record, Bonnie didn’t mean to say that. She really wanted to come to you and apologise, but don’t worry! We managed to get her to sleep and that’s where she is now.”

At least there’s that… Clemont shook his head and slapped his cheeks before quickly rising up, feeling dizziness suddenly hit him. How long has he…

Serena shot up to steady him, looking worried. “I know that you’re worried about Chespin, but are you sure that you are in any condition to find him?”

He had to be. “I have to be. He’s my Pokémon.” He tried to shrug off Serena’s hand and take a few steps, but that queasy feeling wouldn’t let up. “I can use the PokéPuff you made and amplify its scent outdoors to lure him out; I’ll have to heavily modify the Flying-Type Pokémon Attractor to output smell rather than sound but the good thing is that the internal—”

“Clemont!” 

The inventor quickly silenced himself, looking back at Serena. Her mouth upturned a little as she walked up to him, nudging him softly. “We’re finding Chespin, because he’s our friend. And I’m pretty sure we’ve got the perfect machine right here.” She gestured towards the device he left on his bed.

The Pokémon Translator Device.

“You’ll know, just trust me,” she simply said in the face of his visible confusion, walking out of the door. She held it open for him, and for a second—

There were no bad memories or nightmares tagged along at the end of that movement in his head.

There was only Serena.

The sky was still frosty and dark, though light glimmered at the edges of it. Both of them were layered up; Serena wanted to call the others once they finally finished scouring inside the Pokémon Centre, Clemont wanted to go out now, both of them compromising on appropriate clothing and a note left behind on their stead instead. 

His feet crunched on the stiff grass beneath his feet. “Thank you for coming with me. I know it’s hard to come out and search at this time.”

“I understand how you feel.” At the look he gave her, Serena twiddled her hands before further clarifying her statement, “About losing a Pokémon.”

Vivillion. He wasn’t really present for that either, wasn’t he? Clemont walked on forward, the Heliolisk-Light casting its light around the forest next to the Pokémon Centre. “I’ve been too rigid with Chespin, lately. I’m sure he expected something else from me. I haven’t been… understanding with him lately.” He sucked in another cold lungful of air, letting it out and watching his breath condense as it left his mouth. “But he’s been acting up a lot as well. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Serena’s torch illuminated the area opposite him, revealing curled-up flowers and bowed ferns. “You have been very stressed these last few days. Maybe Chespin’s been picking up on your mood.”

“Hmm.” He adjusted his pack, moving a little more far out. He understood the basics of Pokémon behaviour, moreso regarding Electric Types before all else: stiffened fur to scare off enemies, lowered ears for submission and hiding, loud cries for battle. Clemont didn’t know many tells of Chespin. Or Bunnelby, for that fact. “Does Fennekin do the same with you?” He couldn’t imagine it, seeing how close the pair were, but the way that Serena said it…

“Fennekin is a very sweet Pokémon—“ Serena stepped over a root, her light wavering with the movement— “But she’s stubborn in her own ways. She likes to have everything neat and tidy, she loves being groomed, and some days she gets upset or sad or bored for reasons I don’t understand. But we’re trying, both of us, to get better at it.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes, smiling softly. “You just got Chespin recently. I’m sure you’re both getting used to it, that’s all. Nothing some time won’t fix.”

He’s almost out of time. A day, and then… “I’m sorry that I didn’t build your machine yet. I’ll get to it soon, I promise.” It’s the least he could do, the last thing he might do.

“I told you, I really don’t need it. Well, not that badly anyways. It would be a nice birthday gift, just saying.” Serena laughed, shaking her head. Clemont involuntarily smiled too; the girl beside him was bright too, in her own way.

“I can make a lot more than a mixing machine for your birthday, you know.”

“We’ll see about that. I don’t want to be eating ash for desert, after all.”

“You’re right, Ash would be a big meal. He can last at least three days by my estimation.”

“Hey!” He just managed to catch her hands, laughing at the pinked cheeks of Serena as she pouted at him. “That’s a low blow from you, mister!”

Clemont couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so widely. “You did leave yourself open there, but alright. I’m sorry.” She huffed at that, pulling her hands away as she readjusted her torch.

The clock ticked to seven am.

Serena stretched her arms out after a few more minutes, shaking her head. “We’re not finding anything like this. Fennekin, come on out!” A bright flash of light revealed the Fox Pokemon, who shook her fur out before yipping. The girl pointed around with the torch, asking her partner, “Can you try to catch Chespin’s scent? He’s lost and we can’t find him.”

Fennekin stiffened before quickly pressing her nose to the ground, moving around a few steps at a time as she aided in the search. Clemont slipped his hand into his pocket, where the other Pokéball quietly laid, thinking to himself.

(Bunnelby has been increasingly standoffish as of late. Clemont hasn’t been any better. Did he deserve to call on his aid?)

The other Trainer nodded at him once she noticed the action. “We could use all the Pokemon we have to help, and I’m sure that Bunnelby cares about Chespin, too.”

He waited another second before throwing the ball down, watching as the Normal-Type materialised. Before waiting for Clemont’s instructions, though, Bunnelby perked up and went to jump around instead, calling out one word again and again. “Bun-by! Bun-by!”

Oh.

“Bun-by!”

Clemont didn’t need the Pokémon Translator machine to understand what that meant. He took a step forward and renewed his search, his call, even though his throat was still scratchy and his eyes were fighting the urge to close and his heart shook. The sun started to peak over the horizon, and his glasses were constantly needing a wipe because of the condensation, and his feet were only getting colder. The rest of his body too. Even Bunnelby, with thick furring, was starting to shake off crystals with every hop.

“Chespin!”

“Bun-by!”

But they kept moving. Even when Serena decided to cover another area, following Fennekin’s nose, even when the distant chime of the Pokémon Centre announced breakfast being served, even when they couldn’t see the Pokémon Centre anymore.

“Bun— Bun, bun?”

The inventor paused, slumping down on a nearby tree. Panting heavily, he looked over at the curious Bunnelby and gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I just need a small break.”

The Pokémon curled and uncurled his paws before coming closer, rubbing the side of his body against the Trainer. Clemont’s breath stuttered, puffs of air coming out in short intervals.

He put a hand around Bunnelby. His lips barely moved. “I haven’t really been a good Trainer, have I?”

“By?”

The Pokémon Translator Device was the only working invention in his bag, sans his bag itself. “If I was better, Chespin would’ve still been here. And if I was better, you would’ve been happier too. I’m just— I can’t stop thinking about my home.”

“...”

He wondered why Serena told him to take it. It wasn’t fully completed, and its vernacular still needed improvement. “I haven’t told you before, have I? I probably should’ve started with that when we were first training. Or when I first got you, actually. Should’ve been upfront from the start.” He took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing as he pulled his bag to the front. “I lived in Prism Tower.”

Bunnelby shifted, ears straightening up as his eyes widened. Clemont’s mouth turned upwards. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I guess you would’ve heard about it too. Pretty hard to miss it, after all.” His fingers caught onto the smooth metal finish and hooked around the corners of the machine. He didn’t know if Bunnelby remembered all the details of how they met. He didn’t know if it still mattered. “I had other Pokémon, before. We used to battle Trainers who wanted to prove their worth. I… was tired of battling after a while, so I built a robot to do it for me and I ended up losing my home.”

The Pokémon Translator sat in his lap. He curled his thumb around the switch. “I’m scared to go back.”

‘Do not be.’

Clemont blinked and looked around, but the only one next to him was Bunnelby. Bunnelby, who was nudging him with lidded eyes and moving his mouth. ‘I am here.’

So soft, that voice; it was a wonder that the machine managed to catch it at all. Clemont opened his mouth and felt a lump lingering in his throat. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just thought that maybe, with you… I would have a chance to take my home back. But all I did was make things worse.”

‘Love you.’

Clemont tried to hold it in. He had to. By the Great Tree, that’s all a Gym Leader can be: a wall. Clemont is supposed to be a Gym Leader, used to be a Gym Leader, should be defined as one…

‘Love you. Love. Love.’

And all he could do is hug Bunnelby, feeling his face flush and his eyes finally overflow and his nose run and his hands shake around the Pokemon, sobbing and muttering sorry and trying to finish sentences that have no true meaning, that not even a Human Translator machine could decode.

By every Pokémon on the earth, sea and sky, Electric or Normal or Grass or Fairy or any and every other Type known and unknown. 

(‘Loooking! Loooking! Look look looking!’ as two Yanma buzzed ahead, spinning around in the air as they rushed on by.)

By the oath that he had to take at age ten, laurels resting on his head as he spoke the words spoken by many much, much older than he was.

(One voice tiredly mumbling ‘Eat. My stomach must be full’ as a Bidoof wandered by.)

By the glasses he wore, and the bag that he made, and the baggy suit underneath the jacket that he had twelve of back at home.

(A Swirlix bobbing on the breeze, licking its lips as it panted, ‘Smells good! Very good! Where are you, where are you, friend of mine?’)

The Pokémon snuggled inbetween his arms and under his chin and above his lap suddenly moved about, making worried sounds. Clemont released Bunnelby and wiped his face with his sleeve, wincing as the waterworks still kept coming. “Sorry again. I… don’t know what came over me.”

Bunnelby nickered and shook his fur, jumping up once more and looking around. His stance was active, not one that Clemont had seen in the last few days, and his eyes were narrowed as he placed both feet on the ground purposefully and extended his ears out. 

In the distance…

‘Get. Strong! Get. Strong!’

The Digging Pokémon hopped forward, looking back after crossing a metre or two to check on his Trainer. Clemont wiped at his eyes again as he got up and held the Pokémon Translator in his hands, his bag hanging loosely from his shoulders.

‘Show strength, be strong!’

Slowly making his way forward, walking by the trees as Bunnelby led the way. Knees bent, breath hushed.

‘Tackle!’ A hard bonking sound, followed by a familiar yelp. ‘Not good. Stronger!’

Bunnelby paused behind a thick log, bending his ears as he peeked above it. Clemont stood behind the tree next to it, looking around.

A brown paw punching the spindly sapling in front of it, shaking the two leaves on it as a loud huffing sound echoed in the clearing.

Clemont choked on his breath as he rested the invention on his knee and put his left hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the confused mix of sound that was stuck in his chest as he watched Chespin spar on his lonesome.

The Grass Type shook out his quills as he glared at the sapling, hopping from foot to foot as he threw himself headfirst at it— once again he was too close to it and ended up hitting his nose on it this time, causing both Clemont and Bunnelby to wince as Chespin loudly clacked his teeth at the sensation. ‘Not good!’

Clemont quickly tried to shut down the Pokemon Translator, realising how it responded to volume— but the switch was stuck and he accidentally banged it on the hard ground and he pushed it too hard in his panic, and now the machine was shaking and hissing in his hands.

He had a split second to react.

“Chespin, run!” He quickly took off his jacket, freezing fingers almost getting stuck on the zipper as he pulled it off and wrapped it around the invention. He ran out of the cover of the trees, probably feeling as wild as he felt— he needed to get to the clearing, where a minimum amount of trees will burn and/or carry permanent soot marks.

Chespin gaped at him, paws covering his nose.

Clemont’s jacket expanded.

BOOM!

The boy fell flat on his back, ears still ringing from the explosion as his hair curled out and blackened at the tips. His glasses askew, Clemont went to lift himself up, but—

There was a small bundle of pressure on his left hand… And on his chest too.

Soft, small bodies, hugging him for all his worth. Already looking him over, or chirring, warm brown and black eyes looking into his own.

Clemont’s heart, so weak after all that action and drama, just made a gentle pitter-patter. He curled his arms forward so he could hug both of his Pokémon, closing his eyes as he let himself bathe in the recognition of the feel of them, their sounds, their heartbeats. “…Were you practicing back there, Chespin?”

The hard shell nestled over his chest rubbed itself back and forth, spines still soft. “Pin. Ches.”

“Because of Fletchling?”

“Che…”

“By-bun?” Bunnelby supplied, sitting on his haunches and looking over. 

Chespin curled himself up further. “Pin.”

Clemont sat up, making sure to gently put Chespin down to his lap and loop a shaky arm around Bunnelby. He’ll confess that he has had a hard time understanding Chespin beyond the first time they met— already, so much has changed since then. Their first meeting changed them so much as it was.

Ash thought the answer to understanding was a battle. Serena thought that it was time.

Before, Clemont thought it was a machine.

Bunnelby looked up at Clemont, cocking his head as he snuffled twice, Chespin averting his gaze.

Clemont opened his mouth.

(He thought about the secret that was weighing on him, and how two Gym Leaders caught him in the act, and how one of them told him to just talk to his friends.

He didn’t understand it then. How could they help his problem if only he could fix it? They can’t understand. They’ll never understand. They’re not him.)

“No matter what, you deserve the truth, both of you.” Clemont licked his lips, feeling the cold, cracked skin and the cold, dry air outside. “I was a strong Trainer, before. All my Pokémon were Electric Types, and we used to be known as a very good team. Great even. The best in a long while.” He shook his hair, feeling bitterness settle on his tongue once more. “I lost my home, yes, but it was my fault. I made the machine that chased my sister and I out. And my Pokémon… they helped push me out as well. Ever since, I've been trying to get it back, which is why I’ve been training Bunnelby so seriously.”. He made sure to make eye contact with his Pokémon, watching for any sign (of resentment of disgust of so much hate what he deserved).

All they gave him was love. 

Clemont tried to understand, tried to make them understand, breath quickening as he continued to let it all out. “I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I wanted to make sure that the next time we got to Lumiose City, I was prepared to take it back without anyone else knowing that I lost it in the first place… but I wasn’t treating you right, was I?” He paused, closing his eyes as he whispered the next part. “You can tell me. It’s okay if you don’t want to be with me anymore. It wasn’t really your fight in the first place, anyways.”

Silence. And then, “Chespin!”

Two small paws hugging his chest, a warm exhale of breath pressed against his stomach. Clemont’s eyes popped open as he watched his hand instinctively rest on Chespin’s head, the Pokémon giving him so much love.

Tough ears rubbed against his side, and Clemont's gaze went over to Bunnelby, who nodded before saying, “Bun-by, bunnel!”

Chespin’s mouth split into a wide grin as he looked over to his teammate, pumping a fist upwards as he chirped in agreement. Both Pokémon turned to him, eyes glittering with renewed determination as they hugged him once more, cooing out affirmations and challenges and their own sort of love in their own language, their own voice, a voice that he could recognise even without the translator, and all Clemont could do was take it.

Clemont… wanted to understand. He wanted to know more, live more, see more. This journey opened up these sorts of feelings that he never really expected— fear, sadness, anger, but also happiness, joy, excitement. Not just on his own, but with others as well. And all of that… It started with Pokémon, in the end. “But you haven’t even seen Prism Tower. It will be hard. It will have battles. And I've already tried to get back before.”

Chespin rolled his eyes, huffing as if to ask if it really counted if he didn’t have them on his side. Even Bunnelby gently knocked his side with one of his ears, raising an eyebrow as he succinctly remarked with a, “Bun?”

The inventor’s ears pinked as he shook his head, glasses fogging up as he half-heartedly barked, “Hey! I mean it, you know!” Biting his lip, he then said, “...But still, thank you. Both of you. You’re both so much more than what I had given you credit for.”

“Che, che.” Chespin jumped off his lap and stretched himself out, shaking out his arms before sending Clemont a confident look. “Pin, ches!”

Clemont stood up, and Bunnelby took a hop forward. Looking up at the sky, he saw the sun having fully risen from the horizon and winced. He hadn’t even let Serena know anything… Hopefully she retreated to the Pokémon Centre instead of wandering around for too long. He turned back to the broken pile of scraps that led him to this place, that gave him— in a somewhat indirect way— his own way of understanding.

This journey has given him so much. And looking at the trees around him as Chespin swung himself upwards, the soil that Bunnelby tilled as they made sure that the machine held no stray sparks, the Pokemon calls all around him that had their own statements and questions and lives… there was something there as well. Something that he’ll always take.

Smoke rose from the wreckage.

The sapling stood tall.

Clemont wiped his head after hoisting his bag on his back once more, both Pokémon balanced on either side of the pack. “Okay, we should get going now. I’m sure the others are worried about us.”

A snout wiggled against his ears. “Chespin, che?”

Bunnelby chuffed wearily as Clemont laughed, walking forward and out of the forest. “Yes, it’s breakfast time now.”

Turns out, he didn’t really need the Pokémon Translator machine after all.

Breakfast time was an awkward affair.

Ash broke the silence first, talking after swallowing down his latest brioche. “Are you okay? We heard the explosion all the way from here and your clothing…”

Clemont looked down at the tattered remains that could be described as a jacket that was tied around his waist. It survived a lot more than what he expected. “As fine as we could be. I’m sorry if I’ve worried you though…”

“Hey, what did I say?” Serena put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a smile as she set down her spoon. Both of them ended up reuniting a few minutes after he left the clearing, and even Serena was surprised at the joy Fennekin showed towards Chespin (somehow, Chespin took it in stride and waved back happily). Clemont looked down and mumbled something underneath his breath. The former took it anyway while giving him an additional pat before going back to her food.

All the Pokemon were out now and enjoying their food, a new arrangement for whenever the group was getting ready to leave a town or Pokémon Centre— right now, they’re currently sitting in a circle near their table. Clemont’s gaze caught onto Chespin, who was jabbering away with Fletchling and Dedenne as he shoveled food into his mouth. Bunnelby was next to the Grass Type, quiet but attentive, and the inventor’s heart warmed as he looked back at the others once more. “I hope you weren’t all looking for too long.”

Ash waved his hand about aimlessly as he leaned back. “It was nothing.” He gave Clemont a wide grin for a few seconds before Pikachu drily let out a small ‘chuuu?’, causing the Kantonian to look away while scratching his neck. “...Okay, fine, I woke up pretty late and only managed to get to the door before Serena came back.”

“He was the last one to wake up,” Bonnie added as she gave Ash a similarly dull look. The boy chuckled and went back to stuffing his mouth with warm pastries.

Clemont steeled himself as he caught his sister’s flighty glance. “And you…?”

The younger girl looked back at the plate in front of her, shaking her head. “Chespin is not only your Pokémon, okay? I can look for him if I wanted to.”

He knew that. By the Great Tree, that’s all Clemont knew: stubbornness and pride and camaraderie hidden in eyes and mouth and voice and stance. He thought he would get sick of it at some point. Somehow, he’s still left wanting instead. “I never said that.”

“You never say anything,” she lowly said, face dark.

Clemont steeled himself before, but that didn’t do anything to soften the blow. He felt that panicking need to assert his authority and retreat at the earliest convenience, but… he’s tried that before. Several times before.

He looked at Bonnie, who was staring at the table with her mouth twisted and brow furrowed.

Part of being an inventor was knowing when things weren’t going right, you had to change your approach. It was a similar approach that Ash used in his battles, something that still left Clemont breathless at times.

“I’m glad that you care about Chespin, Bonnie.” Clemont cracked a smile at the incredulous look she sent him, putting his hands up. “Seriously! If it means anything, I’m sure you would’ve found him before me, anyways.”

“Now you’re just being nice.” But Bonnie was looking up at him, eyes widening a little more as if to take in everything as it was— as in to memorise every open part of him before he closed up— and it was a look that Clemont had seen before but never understood. Until today, that is. “What actually happened, huh?”

Clemont shrugged, wiping his mouth before pocketing his napkin and glancing back at his Pokémon once more. Bunnelby after a fight for a home, Chespin after a fight with villains. “I started to learn how to listen, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Bonnie said after a few seconds, before fiddling with her dress. Dedenne removed himself from the casual talk of Pikachu and Froakie to scamper towards her, and Clemont bit back a smile as he watched the two conspire in front of him, already as thick as thieves. Even though Dedenne was ‘technically’ his and even more technically hers, he knew that in the end all of them belonged together. Messy and different as they were, through whatever they went through before and whatever they’ll go through now— listening and trusting someone to listen. That’s where it starts.

That’s his way of understanding, in the end. And so far, every result has been echoing success, if Bonnie’s reluctant grin meant anything.

“So!” Ash stretched his arms and legs around while knocking his hands and knees on the table around him, to the squeals and shuffling about from everybody else. After rolling his head, he said. “We’re going to Lumiose, right?”

Serena quickly scrambled to her feet at that, grabbing her hat and shaking it off before placing it on her head and squeezing past Ash. “Oh! I mean, yes! We have to leave now if we’re going to make it on time!” Bouncing lightly on her feet, she waved at Fennekin who jumped away from her bowl and towards her Trainer.

Chespin toddled over to Clemont, tugging on his pant leg as he chirped a question, Bunnelby watching while he picked up the plates. Pink shoes walked up to the pokemon and stood behind it; the inventor’s eyes moved up to rest on Bonnie’s face, who bit her lip.

There was a question there, as well. Back in the Battle Chateau, he shook off the question without meaning it; he thought that he had to be ready on his own, without anyone else. He thought that ‘talk to your friends’ meant after he took back the Gym. He didn’t really think about his Pokémon or his sister either.

“It was Serena’s idea to go back to Lumiose City, so I think… I’ll wait. Until the competition’s over.” He rubbed his neck self-consciously as he watched for their reactions. “If that’s okay with you?”

Bonnie kicked her foot on the ground, thinking to herself for a few seconds before looking up and giving him a sharp nod. “You promise?” she asked, voice so, so small.

His eyes softened. His mouth moved, and his arms opened, and he embraced his sister with Chespin and Bunnelby watching them. After a solid minute they let go, and they exchanged a few words as their Pokémon walked or sat with them, meeting up with Serena and Ash who were waiting at the main entrance with such welcoming countenances.

Clemont was so, so grateful. For the journey, for his friends, for his Pokemon and for his sister. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was when it came to them, even with the circumstances that brought them to this point of time.

Grant suggested that he should talk to his friends about it.

And he will, promise.

But Prism Tower will always be there. And the PokéVision competition is now.

(happy laughter, talks about camera angles, quick footsteps that was almost like dancing)

Clemont has always been a little selfish. Now is no different. But… he wanted to see Serena enjoy herself to the fullest before he brought his problem to them.

And after that?

They’ll make it through, together. As a team.

It’s afternoon and Prism Tower is visible on the horizon, as dauntingly tall as it always was.

Clemont was making lunch, pulling out slices of bread onto the table as Bunnelby placed the Pokemon bowls nearby. Ash was out exploring the area and Bonnie was with Serena, trying out different filters with the camera that he modded for her. It was a little… different for him to try slotting himself into the group after spending so long separating himself from them, but they somehow made it work and he was so grateful. Clemont will always be grateful. He didn’t think there would be a day where he wouldn’t look at his friends and feel that overwhelming feeling that he’s starting to think is more positive and more worth it than he initially thought, rather than a burden he tried to slink away from at every turn.

But right now he was making lunch, and his hands were shaking from the sleepless night he had as he added the spread to each piece of bread.

The butter knife glinted in the sun and— 

(metal shining under fluorescent lights, electric fingers reaching out towards him)

“Bun?”

The inventor shook it off, looking over at the Normal-Type and giving him a wane smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just… remembering.” The boy made the effort to detach his teeth from the insides of his cheek, feeling the marks with his tongue and wincing, Bunnelby flexing his ears in unease at his reaction. 

(He’s always going to be scared, isn’t he?)

A few squeaks announced Chespin’s arrival, the Pokémon finally being bored of the PokéVision preparation and somehow finding his way back to the table. Noting the wary stance of Bunnelby and Clemont’s stiff movements as the Trainer resumed mealtime preparations, Chespin went to toddle off into the campsite.

Clemont desperately hoped that it wasn’t what he thought it was. He opened his mouth for a few seconds, before releasing his breath.

Maybe he’ll wait this time.

After cutting up the slices and arranging them on the plate, he felt that telltale tug on his pant leg. Despite himself, he found his mouth tug upwards as he turned to face Chespin and— 

His two paws desperately holding three Pecha Berries, a proud grin on the Pokémon's face as he chirped happily.

“Oh,” Clemont said, a very apt description of the emotion he was experiencing. Bunnelby came over, having been called by his teammate, and it was just the three of them, three Pecha Berries between them and the fresh earth underneath. “Thank you so much, Chespin.”

“Pin, pin!” The Grass-Type proudly tapped his chest before gesturing to the bushes behind them, and Clemont’s heart warmed. Looks like there was more yet to the mystery that was Chespin, and somehow?

Clemont was finding himself feeling excited to learn more. To experience more. To live in this moment, a cool Berry in his hand gifted by a friend, sitting with friends, the sun above him and love in abundance. He can feel it on his skin. He is breathing it in, every beat of his heart sending it through his body. He is wanted, and he’s responding in kind and it never felt more right than it did now.

“Bon appetit!”

Taking one each, they shot each other a grateful look before indulging in their snack.

(and if the bitterness of the nightmare was washed away by that berry and that grin?)

“Chespin, che!”

“Bun-bun!”

A language from the heart, different ways of saying the same thing; all of forging the way ahead, always.