In which Grisham wakes up to something new, something nice.
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Tagging: @wegotfoodathome @houndenny @fruitteagoblin @grisham-enjoyer @anotherpokemonfanaccount @aki-i-guess @averysmolkirbo @vanillianbean @godserene
WC: 2k
Written To: What it Means to Love (Violet Evergarden OST)
Pale blue light heralded the approaching dawn, casting your sleeping face in ethereal softness. Grisham almost held his breath, unable to take his eyes from you.
You stayed.
He almost thought he was still dreaming when he’d woken up to the unfamiliar but comfortable weight of you next to him. To your warmth, to your scent, and to the steady lowness of your breath. He wasn’t alone, Zorua was likely curled against his back, and Grisham could spy Sylvie at the foot of the bed even without his glasses on.
This was new.
He’d never woken up next to a lover.
Lover.
The word bloomed in his chest. Is that what you were to him? Was that the right word to use for you? It didn’t feel… wrong. So to speak. It felt nice. A little too early, and certainly unmoored by not knowing if you would have accepted the title. But nice.
He smiled, carefully brushing the hair from your face and kissing your forehead. Behind him, Zorua stirred, pressing more of his weight against Grisham’s back. You didn’t stir, you stayed asleep. And Grisham marveled at the sight of you.
You stayed.
And he hoped you would continue to stay.
Eventually, he carefully slipped out of bed and made way towards the bathroom, clothes in hand.
You awoke to the sound of the shower running, lingering warmth, and a dull ache between your legs. The memory of last night soon greeted you. You were in Grisham’s bed, where you had fallen asleep in his arms.
In the light of the morning you could see Grisham’s room. There wasn’t much to it, but it was kept clean and tidy. There were photos next to the closet, colorful depictions of Cafe Nouveau at various stages of its development. A book of poetry was on the bedside table, you’d seen him annotating it once or twice in the time you’d been living with him.
It felt safe. Mostly impersonal. Temporary.
But the bed smelled like him, and there were hair ties on the bedside table, his clothes in the hamper. It was his room. That eased the slight discomfort as you stood and dressed yourself. It seemed that Grisham had brought in a change of clothes for you, a comfortable outfit he’d seen you in plenty of times. You were thankful to not have to risk going into the living room in the nude to retrieve your clothes, otherwise you weren’t sure how Grisham would’ve felt about you wearing one of his shirts. If it was too soon to even do so, or if it was something he would have welcomed. Maybe even expected.
You made his bed before you went out into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, heart hammering in your chest when you heard the shower shut off.
You slept with him. You were going to have to talk about that and that talk was rapidly approaching. Was it a mistake? A one-off slip up? Or was it the start of something more, something akin to a friends-with-benefits? But you had said you loved him. And he had said it first.
The bathroom door opened, and Grisham paused, taking you in at the table. Hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, another one waiting for him, and a question on your face.
“Let’s talk.” Grisham nodded, sitting across from you. His hair was still wet, dripping into the towel around his shoulders. Even as casually dressed as he was, he still carried himself with an air of measured grace, softened as it had become in the last few weeks.
For a moment, you tried to find where to start, but Grisham was the first to move.
“I don’t regret last night.”
“Even when you said you loved me?”
He didn’t respond right away, mulling the question over while his hands wrapped around his cup of coffee.
“Especially that.”
Your heart skipped. Your cheeks burned.
“Maybe it was a little soon.” He eased, “I’m sorry if I-”
“I said it back.”
Grisham sat still, but you had heard the short intake of breath.
“You did.”
You swallowed hard, willing your heart to steady itself.
“And I meant it.”
The smile that bloomed across his face was a small one, hesitant, but genuine. Hopeful.
“I meant it too. I love you.” He said it with gentle conviction, nothing at all like the broken desperation you’d heard him say it before. That reverence was still there, clear as the daylight that now spilled into the apartment.
It made your heart flutter, a warm lightness spreading over your body. But, confirming it wasn’t enough, and your next question grounded you.
“What does this make us?”
“Lovers would be the easiest description.” Grisham shrugged, “But we never really… it feels temporary to call you my lover, like you could leave—which, you can if you want, I don’t want you to feel trapped here but I do—”
“Grisham.” Your hand flew to his, halting his spiral before it could take him over the edge, “What do you want us to be?”
He took a deep breath and exhaled.
“I want this to be serious.”
“And?”
“I want this to work. I want us to work.”
“I’d like that.” You reassured, your hand hadn’t left his, “I’m willing to put the work in.”
He nodded, his hand leaving his coffee mug to hold yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“I’m terrified I’m moving too fast into this.” His voice was barely above a whisper, “Am I moving too fast?”
“Maybe. But if I feel the same then… why not? Let’s give this a shot.”
Grisham nodded, gently squeezing your hand. You squeezed his hand back.
“Lovers then.”
“Lovers.” You nodded.
He held your hand in his, anchoring himself to you. An amused note chimed from him as his smile turned from content to amused.
“I just remembered we’ll have to tell Griselle about this.” Probably for the best. Definitely for the best.
“Should we tell her when she’s home?”
“Depending on her mood.”
“Right.” She should be in a good mood, given that her own date went exceedingly well. But it was never easy telling someone you lived with you were dating the only family they’d ever known… were you dating? Being lovers was one thing, simply dating was another. This was starting a life together.
“We should figure out what this looks like though.” Grisham took a sip of his coffee, as if reading your mind, “Sleeping arrangements, you moving in—if you want to that is.”
It might have been moving too fast, but you had to be honest with yourself, you’d been sleeping on their couch for a couple of weeks. Sleeping in a proper bed again was a delight and not just because of the man you shared it with. Sharing a room with Grisham though was a big change from having your things in a suitcase in their living room. It meant rearranging things, making space, and adjusting to one another in a closer capacity than before.
But he had already done that hadn’t he? Letting you live with him, work for him. Involving you in plans for the future. He had already made space for you, you just had to take it, and stay.
“I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you more.” You began, “As for fully moving in… let’s take our time on that. This is still new and I don’t want to hurt you by rushing in head first.”
Grisham blinked, a spark of surprise twinged across his features before quickly returning to the gentle smile he’d been regarding you with the entire time.
“You won’t hurt me.” Grisham lied, hoping it gave you comfort, disappointed to find you shaking your head in patient disapproval.
“I’m still human after all, arguments are bound to happen.”
“Sure.” Grisham agreed, “But we’ll work through it.”
You nodded. Hopeful.
A comfortable moment enveloped you, your hand in Grisham’s, the taste of coffee on your tongue and the warmth of a new relationship burning in your chest. This was nice.
---
Griselle had noticed it the moment she had walked through the apartment door. The air had shifted. You and Grisham cooked together, nothing unusual there, you sometimes worked together with either of them.
But the smiles, the glances, the way Grisham hummed a pleased note when he lightly brushed his shoulder against yours. Her eyes narrowed. Even Sylvie seemed more energetic than usual, watching you and Grisham with her tail practically wagging and her ribbons bouncing with each step she took.
Dinner was served. Crammed around the kitchen table, your knee knocking against Grisham’s, those same glances exchanged. The almost giddy atmosphere between the two of you… the lingering gaze Grisham held, and the way his gaze flicked to your lips and back to your eyes.
You hadn’t said anything yet, but you didn’t need to. Griselle leaned forward, resting her head in the palm of her hand. There was a lull in the conversation, then…
“Did you two finally fuck while I was gone?”
Grisham’s fork clattered to the plate, a wild red blush spread across his face and burned the tips of his ears. You knew exactly how red your face had gotten.
“I—we—How did you—?” He was stumbling over his words, trying to find solid ground while the smile on Griselle’s face grew.
“Finally!” She threw herself back in her chair, “I’ve been watching the two of you dance around each other for weeks now! Honestly, I thought I’d walk in and find the two of you at each other at some point. Kinda glad I didn’t, but in the future maybe you could give me a heads up if you’re going to—”
“Griselle, please.” Grisham begged, burying his face in his hands. He knew she would do this.
“No no! No. You don’t get to take this from me, Grish, let me have this.” She sat back upright, “So. Are you two together now?”
There was an angle to her question, a careful prodding without outright saying what she wanted. Almost like a child checking to see if it was safe to come out of hiding.
“As of today, yes. We are.” You confirmed, “Is that alright?”
Griselle’s shoulders settled, her expression softened, almost as if something in her had been comforted by that.
“Of course it is.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, the smile that grew across her face was genuine and brighter than any you’d seen from her before. Gone was the mischievous ‘told you so’ air she’d carried before, “Of course I’m alright with that. More than alright, actually. I’m happy the two of you are finally together.”
You were waiting for her to make a joke, to brush aside the weight of whatever feelings she was having as she always did. But this time it wasn’t so, this time, she meant every word of what she said. And you knew it.
“Be good to her, alright Grisham?”
Grisham had reached over and taken your hand in his, giving you a reassuring squeeze.
“I intend to.”
---
Grisham laid across from you, his hand wrapped around yours. Part of him hadn’t expected you to stay in his bed again that night, this time without the sex. It was uncharted territory sharing a bed with someone who didn’t want him for his body, that loved him romantically. Something in him was healing, an emptiness he hadn’t thought to fill, finally finding fulfilment in your presence.
He was glad Griselle approved, though he realized he had nothing to worry about. Griselle liked you, and honestly, she probably would have been fine with anyone as long as they made him happy. But it was better that it was you.
For the first time in his life everything felt normal. And it was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. He whispered your name, checking to make sure that he still wasn’t dreaming. You made a small noise, something affirmative and on the edge of sleep.
He smiled, pulling your hand to his lips and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your fingers. You were his lover, by choice.
Pyre, Chapter 11 - Embers
Et je lui porte enfin mon cœur à dévorer.
(And I bring her at last my heart to devour.)
-Jean Racine, Andromaque (1667), Act V, Scene 5.
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Tagging: @anotherpokemonfanaccount @houndenny @fruitteagoblin @averysmolkirbo @aki-i-guess @grisham-enjoyer @wegotfoodathome @vanillianbean @godserene
WC: 5.3k
Written to: The Voice of No Return (Classical Guitar vers, NieR: Automata)
CW: Smut, Explicit Smut, Minors Do Not Interact
You laid on the couch, blanket pulled over your legs, and hands folded over your stomach. The ceiling fan was on, quietly turning as the sounds of Lumiose’s nightlife drifted in from the outside. Sylvie was curled up half on your lap, and you could hear Zorua snoring from the other end of the couch.
You couldn’t sleep.
You had found an apartment: a studio that wasn’t too far from where you were staying now. As much as Grisham said he didn’t mind, you were starting to feel awkward crashing on their couch. It felt like before. You were contributing, but you were still a guest. And while Grisham had offered the idea of finding an apartment between the three of you, it didn’t feel right to ask them to move for your sake. So it had to be you finding a place for yourself. That was the right thing to do. It wasn’t like you’d be cutting ties with them, but you weren’t sure how to bring up the topic with either Grisham or Griselle.
That and you still hadn’t figured out what to do with the house back in Geosenge. Nothing felt quite right, though selling it was probably the better option if you were intending to stay in Lumiose for the next few years.
The thought of staying in Lumiose was tempting, but it was met with more questions you didn’t have the answer to yet. What would you staying look like in the long term? Would you be staying with the intention of establishing a permanent life here? Did that consider dating? Were you interested in dating? It had been years since the last time you’d seen anyone in that capacity, let alone entertain the idea of settling down. And if you had, how would you navigate everything? Where would you even begin to explain that you had no family because of a terrorist organization’s failed attempt at starting a new world? That you lived with two people once affiliated with said organization- that you worked for them? That you were proud to even.
Your dating life would be a complicated one; you knew that. What you didn’t know was if you were ready to start that part of living.
You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a bedroom door opening and the stifled footsteps of Grisham as he tried to quietly navigate the apartment. You listened carefully, thinking he was headed towards the bathroom. Instead, he moved through the kitchen, past where you were lying on the couch, though you couldn’t see him yet, nor could he see you.
He was headed towards the front door. You sat up.
“Grish?”
He paused, “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No,” You shook your head, despite him not being able to see it, “Couldn’t sleep.”
“You and me both.” Grisham sighed, “I was going to go for a walk, would you like to join me?”
You moved Sylvie off your lap, depositing her on the armchair. She was still fast asleep.
“Sure, I could go for a walk.”
He had your coat in his hand, extending it out to you when you approached. Your shoes went on quickly after. You didn’t bother to change into proper clothing, and it looked like Grisham had the same thought, still wearing his sweatpants and a simple long-sleeved t-shirt, the V-neck cut suited him. He had pulled his hair back already.
“Thank you.”
He opened the door, letting you out first before turning to lock up the apartment and pocketing his keys. Griselle was out that night; it seemed like her date had gone very well, as you and Grisham had both gotten a text that she was spending the night. Good for her.
But you knew that Grisham wouldn’t rest easy. He worried for her; it was clear as day. And in a way, you understood. You might have been the same with your sister if she had ever started dating. You let the bitter thought sit there, slipping your hands into your pockets and following Grisham outside into the cool night.
It’d been two weeks since the housewarming party for Renoir and Vivienne. The temperatures were starting to drop, but not enough to where you saw your breath. It would be another few weeks before fall came in full swing.
For a time, you and Grisham walked in silence. The streets of Lumiose were relatively empty at this time of night, though you could see the holotech borders of that night’s battle zone and hear the ongoing trainer battles. You had half a mind to suggest turning back to the apartment and getting your teams for one or two quick battles, something to chip away energy and clear your heads. But the other part of you wanted to enjoy the walk, the silence, and the quality time with Grisham.
He hadn’t said anything yet, but you could see his eyes slowly scanning the streets, his gaze following alleys and seemingly searching the shadows. The two of you were getting close to Centrico Plaza, the holotech barrier of the wild zone quietly separating civilians from the Pokémon within. The foliage had practically overtaken the tower’s remains by this point; vines and moss swayed softly in the breeze. Grisham glanced at it, but continued his quiet search.
“Is something wrong?” You slowed your pace, glancing in the direction he had looked and finding an empty street, “What’s on your mind, Grisham?”
“I’m just…” He paused, attention following a noise from a nearby alley, just another Trubbish, “I’m just making sure that I’m doing all I can.”
“You do enough, Grisham.” You steadied, earning a grunt from Grisham, “I mean it.”
“I know.” He finally tore his eyes away from the alley. He’d have to find a time when you and Griselle were asleep to try his search again, “You shouldn’t have to worry about me.”
“But I do.”
“Mm.” He straightened his shoulders, “What about you? What’s on your mind?”
You swallowed hard, trying to find where to start.
“I found a place to live. It’s a studio, but it’s not far from your apartment, so we could still have dinner or movie nights or-”
“Are you sure you want to move out? Really, it’s no problem for Griselle and I, and if it’s space you need, we could find a larger-”
“And like I said, I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve already done more than enough by letting me stay.” You pushed back, “And besides- I mean- it’s not fair to you and Griselle that I should be camping out on your couch when you’re both seeing people-”
“Griselle is seeing someone.” Grisham corrected, almost clipped, “I’m not. And she’s making it work for her. It’s really not a problem.”
You ignored the way your heart skipped a beat at the information, shaking your head.
“I don’t want this to become an argument- I just thought you should know that I might’ve found a place to… I don’t know, start living?”
Grisham started to say something, but stopped himself, taking a deep breath and calming himself down. He didn’t want to admit that he knew exactly why he was getting so worked up over the idea of you moving out. It wasn’t like he was blind to what was happening, but he wasn’t going to let himself be the one leading things. He had already fucked up once before; he didn’t want to risk losing you again.
“I… understand.” Grisham finally conceded, “I’m glad you found a place. Have you signed the lease yet?”
“Not yet, I’m still looking at a few other options, but I’m hopeful.”
“Mm.”
“This isn’t me saying goodbye. I’ll still be in Lumiose, and I’ll still work for Cafe Nouveau as its courier. I just want it to be more fair for all of us.”
That did bring a little comfort to Grisham. He dropped his shoulders.
“I’ll support you in whatever ways I can, and you know our door will always be open for you.”
“The same goes to you.” A chilly wind swept through the streets, and you instinctively stepped closer to Grisham, your shoulder brushing against his and seeking his natural warmth.
“Let’s head back.” You hissed, getting met with an amused hum from Grisham.
“Sure.”
---
When you returned to the apartment, you left your coat and shoes at the door with Grisham’s. He moved past you into the kitchen, flicking on the light and already busying himself with making two cups of tea while you got the lamp on in the living room and tidied up your bed.
Zorua and Sylvie seemed to have moved into Griselle’s room; you could see her door slightly ajar from where you sat on the couch.
“For you.” Grisham held the mug out to you, waiting until you took it to settle on the couch with you, smiling briefly at the small thanks you gave him.
“So what’s the plan now?” You asked, drawing your knees onto the couch.
“Hm?”
“For Flare Nouveau, for you.”
“For me?” He didn’t seem surprised that you asked it; it was more that he was testing the question, weighing it against his thoughts as if it had been on his mental list.
“You were pursuing that goal for so long, I just wonder if you ever thought about what you would do when you were done with it?”
“I’ve been giving it some thought, but for the most part, it’s just continuing as is. Doing the best I can, protecting Lumiose, and living the life I have no matter what people think of me.”
“And you do well at it.” You sipped your tea, the comfort of a lavender chamomile greeting you, hot as it was.
“I try to.” Grisham shrugged, taking in his own tea and relaxing further against the couch.
“Mm. That’s all that anyone can ask of us.” You nodded, your thoughts drifting.
A beat of comfortable silence passed, then a nagging thought made itself known.
“Were you looking for Lysandre earlier?”
Grisham didn’t answer at first, staring at you, at your hands holding your mug of tea, at the steam curling and disappearing into the air, “I think I was.”
“I wondered that. I didn’t know he was alive, I thought I was just seeing things, but-”
“Hold on, you saw him?” Grisham sat forward; he should have considered that that was a possibility. He tried not to let the guilt join his other regrets; it was another thing he hadn't told you about... but he was talking about it now, that had to count for something.
“It was during the whole situation with Ange. I let him go. Nothing I could have done would have changed anything for the better.” You sighed, taking a long sip of tea and settling against the back of the couch, your gaze drifting towards the ceiling, “Honestly. I don’t even think it was really him, y’know? He just looked… lost? Nothing at all like what I would have thought.”
The mug was slowly starting to burn against Grisham’s hand, but he held onto it, trying not to frown.
“What… was Lysandre to you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t.” He did, but at the same time… “I think he was like a father to me once. I used to look up to him and the way that he would help others. Maybe I still do.”
The silence hung painfully.
“I’m not proud of the person I was after you left.”
He didn't need to say why.
“And are you now?”
“I think I am. We’ve both come a long way.”
You smiled briefly at that, humming in agreement.
“What was it like seeing him again?” You turned your head.
Grisham forgot to breathe for a moment, forcing himself to measure his inhale and soften his exhale. There was a lot he was feeling about it. It wasn’t the Lysandre that Grisham knew, but at the same time, did Grisham have a right to condemn him to whatever fate had befallen him?
“It's like watching a cycle start up again.” He placed his words carefully, like one would compose a poem, but still not quite reaching the exact words he needed, “Knowing that in another thousand years he will still be around, a mere shell of who he once was. I can’t say if that was a kinder or crueler fate than death.”
“I think you know that answer, though.” You inserted, finally setting your tea on the coffee table and scooting just a little closer to Grisham, “You’re not him, you know that, right?”
“I hope so.”
“Hey.” You reached over, resting your hand over Grisham’s, “You could have turned your back and ran when everything went to shit. But you didn’t. You won't be like him, I promise- besides. I don’t think Griselle will let you walk down that path either.”
“Of course she wouldn’t.” Grisham set his tea down, tilting his head, “I shouldn’t be so quick to forget that my girls have my back.”
His girls. You’d never heard him refer to you and Griselle like that. It felt…
Your eyes flicked down, recognizing the closeness between you. Your knee was almost brushing Grisham’s now.
His smile was a genuine and warmhearted one. One you wanted to see more of. One you treasured.
“It’s surprising how easy this is.” Grisham spoke with hushed sincerity, “You and me.”
“Yeah..” The word barely left you as little more than a sigh.
You leaned in, Grisham leaned in.
You could feel his body heat, comforting and tantalizing at the same time. The whisper of his breath over your skin set your nerves alight.
“Is it alright if I kiss you?” Grisham whispered it, low and careful, as if asking the question in itself was a step too far.
You nodded, slow at first, then whispered your answer.
Grisham closed the distance slowly, carefully, as if waiting for you to say no, to stop him like you had last time. But you didn't. You leaned in, your lips finding his.
Kinder this time, softer.
He was warm and expectant, his lips met yours, and a sigh escaped him as the tension melted from his shoulders. You could hear the shuffle of fabric and the shift of weight on the couch as Grisham moved closer to you without breaking the kiss. His hands found and delicately cradled your face, cautious in mapping unfamiliar territory.
You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and your hands found his shoulders. Steadying, firm. You used his shoulders to guide yourself as you carefully eased yourself onto his lap, your legs straddling him. It was a comfortable fit, though you did not move much closer to him. The taste of coffee lingered on your lips as Grisham pulled back, his hands steadying on your shoulders. He held you at arm's length, worry written across his face.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” You nodded, “Are you?”
“If you’re sure.”
“Grisham.” You sat back, “Do you want this to stop?”
“I want- No. I want this.” He finally admitted, “I just don’t want to hurt you again.”
“You won’t.” You promised, carefully closing the gap, your lips whispering over his, “I want this.”
“I want this too.” It came out barely as a whisper, more a resigned and relieved sigh, as if a weight had just been taken from his shoulders.
He kissed you. Soft, slow, and reverent. Taking you in slowly, shaping his lips to yours, guiding you along into a haze that drowned out the rest of the world. His hands rested on your hips, firm but not possessive or overeager. Calm. Measured.
Grisham drew you closer, and you cradled his face; the feeling of a slight stubble was sharp under your fingers when you grazed his jaw. You adjusted your position, using your weight to push him against the back cushions so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck up to meet you. His fingers edged along your shirt, dipping beneath the fabric and brushing along the small of your back, thumbs pressing lightly into your sides to guide him. When you tilted your head and nudged deeper into the kiss, you were met with a low, breathy note that settled in Grisham’s throat.
You pressed a hair further, his lips parted, your tongue swiped against his, testing the waters. This was wholly unlike the moment that had been shared in the old cafe. What was rushed, ill-timed, and desperate was nothing like this. Where Grisham had been dominant, he was now forgiving, easing against you as if he had all the time in the world and no doubts to tie him down with.
Cool air greeted your back as Grisham’s fingers traced up your spine, your shirt moving with him. You gave an experimental roll of your hips against his, feeling the bulge in his pants twitch sharply against you. Grisham inhaled sharply, pressing up into the kiss you were sharing, aching to taste more of you. His arms wrapped around you, grounding and guiding you as you rolled your hips against him again, an exhaled moan of your own brief upon your ears. Your fingers wove their way into his hair, combing through the red and white locks towards his ponytail, pulling out the hair tie and looping it around your wrist.
A thin trail of saliva connected you and Grisham when you pulled away for air, your breath hot against his and your skin begging to be touched, to be held. You sat back to shed your shirt, tossing it unceremoniously to the floor, the whole while your gaze was trained on Grisham’s face, watching for discomfort. Instead, you were met with silent beholding, with his eyes slowly tracing over you, over every curve, every dip. You found yourself almost holding your breath, waiting for an approval you knew you already had. His hands returned to your hips, and Grisham let go of a shaky exhale as he caressed up your sides, across your stomach, cupping your breasts for a moment before ghosting up your chest.
His touch was feather-light as his fingers brushed over your collarbone, up the sides of your neck. His palms returned to where they had cradled your face before, thumb grazing your cheekbone just under your eye. There was a natural and adoring serenity to his face, a deep set worshipping to his eyes that was drawing you in while you looked at his kiss-swollen lips and involuntarily licked your own, wanting to kiss him again and again. Not as a person starved would, but to reassure yourself of the reality before you, to silently revere, to thank him for all that he was and all that he’d become.
“You’re beautiful.” He breathed, pulling you in for a chaste kiss, “So beautiful.”
Your heart fluttered; the word felt almost sacred coming from Grisham. As if he reserved it for your ears only.
Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it up until he took his hands off you and sat up to shed it. Unhurried, you took in his chest, eyes and fingers silently tracing the faded scars. Small burns, larger scrapes, all of them had been tended to with medical precision. You hadn’t noticed them before.
“Should I be gentle?” Your fingers dipped against a particularly deep set of scars on his shoulder.
“They’re years old, I’ll be alright.” Grisham promised, “I trust you.”
You placed a trail of tentative kisses along his collarbone, steadying your hands on his shoulders. You could explore his scars more in time, but for now, your kisses trailed up his neck and found his lips once again.
He guided you down to the side and onto your back, laying you on the couch with attentive care, his hands supporting your waist as he shifted himself to be between your legs. He kissed you again, leading with a feeling you were finding a word for.
“Is this still alright?”
You nodded, verbalizing your answer in a low, breathy tone. Grisham pressed a kiss to your neck, another on your collarbone, a third between your breasts. A fourth over your stomach. His hands found the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers dipping beneath it as he paused to check in one last time. His eyes flicked up and found yours.
You rested a hand on his head, encouraging him to continue as you raised your hips to help him take your pants off. He put them somewhere on the floor; you truly didn’t care where.
When Grisham returned to you, he started with his hands sliding down your thighs, thumbs running along the inside and leaving a warm trail in their wake. His hands were strong, but gentle at the same time, even-handed against you. He kissed the inside of your thigh as he opened your legs, and anticipation swelled in your core.
A shock of electricity raced up your spine when he made the first swipe of his tongue through your folds. You inhaled sharply when his tongue repeated the motion, settling into a steady rhythm. He found your clit early on and focused his efforts there, swirling his tongue around you in a way that made your legs jolt, and your stomach flip.
His hand slid down your inner thigh, leaving you for the briefest moment before you felt his fingers working carefully around your entrance. You threw your head back as Grisham wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently and almost reveling in the moan that slipped from your lips when you pressed your head back into the couch. Your hand returned to his head, fingers tangling in his hair.
Another stripe, and you angled your hips up, your fingers tugging at his red and white hair. Your head felt light and fuzzy; it took effort to keep yourself focused on Grisham and what he was doing to you. On the feeling of his fingers working inside you, not rushed but exploratory and almost reverent in touch. On the feeling of his free hand gripping your thigh, not too hard, but firm and grounding. Your free leg wrapped over his back, almost clinging to him.
Grisham pulled away, sitting up and leaving his fingers in you, a deep scarlet haze dusting his cheeks and his eyes almost smouldering. You felt vulnerable under his gaze, but as you met it, you saw his own vulnerability. Momentarily, as he looked away from you, almost the second you met his gaze. But there. Hesitant, second-guessing, bordering on distant.
You made a noise, something soft and needy, as you reached out and rested a hand on the side of his face, turning him to meet your gaze.
“Please.” You managed, biting back a breathy note as his fingers curled in you, “Please don’t look away.”
Something softened in Grisham’s eyes; he leaned into your touch, nuzzling a wet kiss against the palm of your hand.
He withdrew his fingers from you, and you fought the urge to whine at their absence. His eyes never once left you; if they were not entangled with yours, they were tracing your figure, as if committing your shape to memory. He swallowed, unable to bring himself to speak, ignoring the way his heart hammered in his chest and fighting the way his mind tried to force him into thoughtlessness as it usually did when he had someone like this.
“Grish.” Your voice brought him back, your legs wrapping around his waist, and the expression on your face wordlessly asking for him to be closer. You were here, you were laid bare before him. Everything he could have wanted, the stability he needed, the vindication he sought.
He would give you every part of him if you asked for it. And you had. You were. He sat back to pull his pants down and off.
You took a breath to take him in. He was bigger than you were expecting, not particularly girthy, but longer. Precum already leaked from the head of his cock as it jolted in the cool air of the apartment.
Grisham sought your approval again, his hand almost shaking as he lined himself up with you, “And this..?”
“I want this, Gris.” You repeated, the new nickname for him came out of you naturally, softly, “I want you.”
“Tell me if I should stop. Please.” He breathed, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, gathering you slick before lining himself up at your entrance, “Ready?”
You nodded.
He entered you achingly slow, watching your face for your reaction as you felt every inch of him move deeper into you, pausing when you winced. Once. A flash of concern on Grisham’s face, an unasked question that you silenced quickly by angling your hips up again, inviting him deeper. Your body formed to him, enveloping him in a comforting heat that Grisham was losing himself in if he hadn’t already.
Grisham exhaled when he bottomed out in you, the tail end of it shaky as he held his position, waiting. Instead, you reached out your hands to his face again, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen out of the way. He leaned down, moving with you as you guided his face to yours, capturing his lips in a reassuring kiss. You could taste yourself on him; it sent a jolt through you. Grisham reacted by pressing into you, meeting your moan with one of his own.
He set a cautious pace when he pulled away from your kiss, instead resting his forehead on your shoulder. Your fingers carded through his hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp down to his neck, your legs wrapping loosely around his waist as you held him to you. As if scared he might pull away from you, as if trying to say many things at once.
You could tell that Grisham was holding back, that the pace he set for himself was slowly building his own release; the way his hips stuttered as if begging to move faster told you that much. His moans were cut short, throaty and deep set in his chest. You wanted to hear more of him, feel more of him. You pulled him closer, tightening your legs around his waist and digging your nails a little harder into his back.
He responded to your silent request immediately, picking up the pace and intensity, leaving intentional and hot kisses on your shoulder, collarbone, and neck. His hands wandered you, tenderly caressing your face one moment, palming your breasts the next, clinging to your rib-cage the moment after that, then steadying on your hips. Angling you to him.
Your back arched, pressing your body to his as your lips buried themselves in the crook of his neck, moaning and gasping against his skin when he thrust into you just right. It didn’t take long for him to send you tumbling over the edge, his name bleeding between the cries you tried to keep quiet for the sake of his neighbors.
Grisham said something in the middle of one of your moans, you didn’t catch it at first. You thought it might have been your name.
Then he said it again, stuttering and struggling with forming the words between breathy moans and deep, hard thrusts. Finally managing it through a gasp.
“I love you.”
You almost froze, almost said something in return, you might have. You wanted to.
He loved you. He loved you. He loved you.
You said it back. Stumbling over the words in the midst of your own pleasure, but he heard you. He heard you, and he turned his head and captured your lips in a heated, searing kiss. His hands cradled your face, sliding down your shoulders and chest and around your sides, holding you close to him as if scared you might leave.
His hips stuttered, drawing close to his release. A hand flew down between the two of you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing lopsided, almost overstimulating circles. He was trying to say your name, blissed out desperation stumbling out instead as his hips stuttered again and he tipped over the edge. You could feel his release spill inside you, hot and sticky in ways that felt right.
There was now a stillness between the two of you, chests heaving, heads reeling, breaths heavy but slowly easing themselves back towards normalcy. Grisham’s breath hitched, the exhale shaky, and that’s when your eyes focused on him. Without thinking, your hand reached out to his face, your thumb wiping his tears away.
You whispered words of comfort, your voice raw but grounding. You drew him into your embrace, careful not to move too much as you comforted him.
Hesitantly, Grisham slipped from your grasp, then out of you. He inhaled sharply, swallowing hard, “I should clean you up.”
He stood, moving towards the bathroom. You lay back on the couch, eyes trained on the ceiling as they’d been earlier that night, pleased and satisfied with what had happened. Though… something did linger in your chest, a question weighing itself upon your heart as the rest of you fluttered.
Grisham returned not too long later, bringing a warm, damp hand towel with him and setting himself to the careful task of cleaning you. His hand traced along you, tender and softer than before, bringing you down from your high. You studied his face as he cleaned you. He had wiped his tears away, but his eyes were red-rimmed and irritated. The question nagged at you, but you pushed it aside.
“Are you alright?”
“I should ask you the same.” Grisham shrugged, then softened, reaching over to give a reassuring squeeze to your hand, “I’m alright, promise. It was just… a lot, but I’m alright.”
“And I’m alright too.” You reassured, squeezing his hand back, “More than alright.”
Grisham smiled, hummed a pleased note, and leaned forward to press a kiss against your forehead. He stood when he pulled away, offering you both his hands to help you stand.
“Come on. There's not enough room on the couch for both of us.”
He steadied you when you stood, your legs briefly straining to find stability. When you were ready, Grisham led you across the apartment to his room, and you realized you’d actually never been in his bedroom before. You couldn’t see much in the low light, just enough to make out the bed.
"Is it really okay that I stay?"
"I want you to."
Grisham pulled you to him quietly, letting your head rest against his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist. You could hear his heartbeat, settled, pleased, hopeful, all at once. You could feel his fingers drifting up and down your shoulder, his lips pressing soft, momentary kisses to your forehead and crown.
You could feel yourself relaxing into a long silence. Sleep would greet you soon enough if you let it.
Grisham stilled, and for a moment, you thought that he, too, was starting to drift to sleep.
“I’m not used to people staying.” He admitted in a whisper, a comfortable cadence as if he’d only whispered it to himself and not you.
“I’m here.” You whispered back, sliding your eyes closed, “Not going anywhere either.”
You couldn’t see his relieved smile.
The question nagged at you again.
“I love you.” You whispered, testing the waters.
Grisham sighed, a deep exhale that relaxed across his body.
“Love you too.”
You laid in silence, listening to his heartbeat and knowing you had heard it jolt a hair when you’d spoken. You adjusted yourself, relaxing against Grisham. He was warm, and he smelled of vanilla and cedar, and now you. And he was safe.
“What does this make us?” You asked, unsure if you’d said it loud enough.
Uncertainty left you standing at the edge of a cliff. Everything had changed, but it didn’t feel wrong. You hoped it wasn’t wrong; you didn’t want it to be a mistake.
“We’ll figure that out in the morning,” He answered after a long moment of thought, “but, for now…”
His embrace shifted, settling into something more comfortable.
Pyre, Chapter 10 - New Beginnings
So, I close
my eyes
to old ends
and open
my heart to
new
beginnings.
-Nick Frederickson
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Tagging: @anotherpokemonfanaccount, @houndenny, @fruitteagoblin, @averysmolkirbo, @aki-i-guess @grisham-enjoyer, @wegotfoodathome
Word Count: 2.6k
Written To: Slopes of Blessure, Beauclair at Night (The Witcher 3: Blood and Wine)
The week slid by in a blink of an eye, so did the next, and the next. A month passed. Then another.
You stayed in Lumiose. Crashing on Grisham and Griselle’s couch until you could find a place of your own, that was taking a long time. The damage across Lumiose made a handful of buildings structurally unsound. The Racine Construction company had its hands overflowing with repair requests; it felt that there was construction happening day and night.
The Royale had been paused while the city recovered, but you knew it’d found its A-rank trainer already. Two of them, supposedly.
You helped around Cafe Nouveau, occasionally filling shifts, but mostly running deliveries of coffee and pastries to construction sites. Drifblim was an excellent help in that regard; his slow and even drift meant that any trays of to-go cups he was given to hold would never spill. Grisham had hesitated about having you work for him, but you insisted. It was the least you could do while staying at his place.
When he gave you your uniform, you’d felt your heart swell. It wasn’t anything too fancy, and when you were running deliveries, you only really had to wear the jacket. The weight felt good on your shoulders, as did the purpose. Simple pleasures comforted Lumiose and drove the rebuilding effort. And the simpler task of delivering those simple pleasures felt right.
The work didn’t stop there either. Your downtime was spent helping in the cleanup, spending precious hours removing debris, and swinging by a late-night take-out place on the way back to the apartment. Turns were taken showering between bites of dinner, then winding down to a movie or to watching the news if it was kind. The news in the days after Ange hadn’t been kind. There was a small death toll, and many people were injured, but it was nowhere near the catastrophe of Geosenge.
And for that, you were thankful.
By the second month, the cleanup was mostly handled, left firmly in the hands of Racine Construction. Your nights became a steady routine. You’d come back to the apartment, cooking was on rotation, so some nights it was Grisham cooking, sometimes it was Griselle, or sometimes it was you. Sometimes, when no one felt like cooking, it was take-out. After dinner, whoever didn’t cook would handle dishes and clean up.
Tonight it was you and Grisham cleaning. Griselle had gone off to shower, leaving the two of you quietly in the kitchen.
“How’s apartment hunting?” Grisham tried breaking the silence, his hands busy drying a dish you’d finished cleaning.
“Slow going.” You shrugged, “Lots of people looking for places still.”
“Mm… and have you decided what to do with Geosenge?” He asked it carefully, knowing it might not ever be his place to ask.
“Haven’t decided yet.” You had been back once to pick up some of your things. Benoit had closed up his shop while the building saw repairs and was keeping an eye on the house until you decided what to do.
Selling it didn’t feel quite right. Neither did leaving Lumiose behind, but leaving the house unoccupied felt even more wrong, especially since you had returned there once with the intention of staying there for good, but expecting that Grisham and Griselle might be okay if you asked them to come live with you didn’t feel right either.
“I’ll figure it out, but for now, Benoit is keeping a good eye on it.” You handed another clean dish to Grisham, your fingers brushing lightly against his in the handoff.
“Do what you think is right for you.” Grisham added, “I don’t mind you staying here. But if it makes things easier, we could try finding a larger place.”
Your heart jolted in your chest. That thought hadn’t occurred to you, and Grisham had asked it.
“I couldn’t ask that of you.”
“I’m offering.” It was a simple clarification, and Grisham didn’t push further after that.
You busied your hands with the next dish, trying to hide the way you could feel your cheeks burn.
“I’ll think about it.”
Grisham didn’t say anything, falling back into the steady lull of dishes. You could hear the shower shut off in the next room over, and minutes later, Griselle exited with a cloud of steam curling off her. She really did enjoy her showers scalding, even if it used up all the hot water in the apartment. There was a slight charm to it that you knew would become irritating within the next month.
It felt nice to live with others again. You slowed a hair, easing up on scrubbing the pan in your hands clean. Did you enjoy living with them that much?
---
Corbeau said your name as if he had every right to say it.
Grisham paused, setting his drink down. It’d been some time since he’d gone out to a bar, and Corbeau had invited him to one on a whim. Their conversation had at first been a check-in, then a small celebration, then a meandering walk path between several topics.
And now it seemed like Corbeau’s topic of choice was you.
“She’s living with you now, isn’t she? How’s Griselle taking that?”
Grisham stayed on his guard, even though Corbeau knew about you, he still couldn’t help but be wary of any possible angles that the man across from him was playing.
“Griselle likes her. They get along.” It was true, Grisham had come back the night before to the sight of you and Griselle out in the living room. A shitty romcom on the TV, you were seated on the floor, popcorn in your lap, and Griselle’s hands braiding your hair from her spot on the couch. It was startlingly domestic, and Grisham felt as if he was intruding on some important girl talk.
“That’s a good sign.” Corbeau’s interest wasn’t passing. “How long have the two of you been seeing each other for again?”
There it was.
“It’s not like that.” Grisham spoke carefully, “We’re friends.”
The word didn’t feel right. You were more than just friends, he had to admit that to himself at least. You were more than a friend.
But Grisham wouldn’t give Corbeau the satisfaction of seeing him squirm trying to find the right word.
“Sure.” Corbeau leaned on an elbow, “Just friends.”
“Beau.”
“What? I’m only curious. Can you blame me?” Corbeau grinned, “You ask me to look out for someone even while the city is practically on fire. If anyone other than you had asked, I’d have told them to pull their head out of their ass- but you-”
Grisham took a sip of his drink, trying to ready an excuse for the heat burning his ears as a side effect of the alcohol.
“You ask me to look out for another woman. Who now lives with you. Works for you even. And she’s just a friend.”
“That’s all it is.” Grisham defended, “I could ask you the same thing about your bodyguard- what was it? Philippe?”
Corbeau frowned, “Hey now, no need to drag Philippe into this-”
“Then it’s clear. We don’t talk about our partners.”
“You said it!”
“I did—No!”
But Corbeau was already laughing, light-hearted and momentarily unguarded in a way that made Grisham join him. Only for a moment. It felt like years hadn’t passed, that they were right back on the rooftop of Lysandre Cafe, sharing a smuggled bottle of wine between them before they were old enough to drink and secrets that only the two of them would carry.
When their laughter died down, Grisham held an expression of bittersweet fondness. And Corbeau finished his drink, holding his liquor better than anyone Grisham knew.
“Really though.” Corbeau set the empty glass down, that same charming smile on his face, “I just want to make sure you’re happy. You look happier.”
Grisham perked up, did he? He certainly felt lighter than he ever had before. It was like a day of sunshine after a long winter.
“And if it’s because of her. Then good. You deserve it.” His voice had gotten softer, low and sincere, a rare side of Corbeau that Grisham had forgotten was there, “Friends or more than friends.”
Grisham wasn’t sure what to say in response to that; he only nodded, “The same goes for you.”
Corbeau moved on to other topics, filling the rest of the night with an attempt to make up for lost time. And Grisham let him.
---
There was a housewarming party. Someone in Flare Nouveau had finally gotten a place of their own. Renoir and Vivienne. You’d been invited to it and brought a decent bottle of wine with you. As did many of the other members of Flare Nouveau. There was a table, someone brought a bucket and ice to chill the wine that needed to be chilled. Another brought a selection of meats and cheeses, small bites enjoyed while conversation lingered after dinner.
The dinner had filled you with warmth, snug around a table, almost knee to knee with Grisham. In the candle glow, there was a warmth to his face, a low blaze of pride in his eyes, a content smile upon his lips. When he spoke, it was easy and genuine. He showed up outside of his uniform, a rare sight indeed.
He looked happier—brighter—than he ever had before.
Dinner had extended well into the night, and now you stood on the balcony, a glass of wine in hand and the dulcet low tones of jazz drifting through the smoke haze. The air was cool outside, the precursor of a coming fall. Your attention was turned inwards towards the apartment, watching with ease the way that the members of Flare Nouveau interacted with one another. Comfortable and familiar, almost akin to family. You weren’t outside because you felt uncomfortable, far from it, watching from the outside was purely to appreciate it.
A smile came to your face, then a laugh tickled your throat.
To think, almost a year ago, you’d come back to Lumiose and sworn an oath of vengeance the moment you saw them. Now you were standing on the balcony of a home belonging to Flare Nouveau, wine in hand, and living with its leader. What was once an abhorrent thought was now one you found stability in.
“You look pleased.” Grisham noted, joining you out on the balcony, his hands free, “Fine if I join you?”
“Go on ahead, I don’t mind.”
He stood next to you, taking in the cool night air, his eyes trained in the distance. The ruined Prism Tower could be seen just barely over the rooftops. Already, there was foliage starting to overtake the metal structure. Supposedly, there were plans to turn the site into a wildzone. The last one the city would need for some time.
“How are you feeling?” You pried, watching Grisham internally sort his thoughts out. A soft smile spread across his face, tired but genuine.
“Happy, I think. I’m happy for Renoir and Vivienne, it’s not easy finding an apartment in this city, much less one like this.”
“They look happy too.” You motioned inside, watching as Renoir refilled Vivienne's wine glass while she was mid-conversation.
“Mhm.” Grisham’s gaze settled on you, “You look happy too.”
“I am, I like it here. It’s nice, feels like home.” You thought of Geosenge, of the farmer’s market, and the familiar faces that regarded you with a welcoming warmth. If you'd stayed, you would have found a familial feeling there.
“I’m… glad that you joined Flare Nouveau.” Grisham admitted, finding the surface of what he wanted to say in the moment, “I was surprised that you did, if I’m being honest.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You gave me a second chance, after all I did.”
“Almost did.”
“Sure. But still. I may not have a stain on my name, but isn’t the whole thing about Flare Nouveau being better than you were?” You tilted your head towards Grisham, a lopsided smile on your face as you swirled your wine glass before taking a sip. It was a nice, full-bodied red; you couldn’t remember who had brought the bottle or which bottle it was.
“That is true.”
“I’m better because I met you.” You said it simply, pleased with how that truth felt, "Now it's just a little more official."
Grisham hummed a pleased note; you didn’t notice the red tinge to his ears.
“So. The Z-A Royale.”
“Infinite Royale, from what I hear now.” Grisham corrected, easing into a less awkward topic, “Think you’ll register for it again?”
“Oh, did that already! Vinnie, I think, set me back up with my previous rank- actually a few ranks higher now? I think. Something about what I did in helping Lumiose. Not sure how he found out about that.”
“I can hazard a few guesses.” It wasn’t himself, nor would it have been Griselle. They weren’t chasing recognition, and Grisham wasn’t sure if you would have wanted the recognition either. He had a feeling it was a certain poison type specialist with whom he’d gotten drinks with recently. Corbeau was always working some angle, always keeping his assets in line. He hoped you wouldn't become one of Corbeau's assets.
“Still though, I’m looking forward to potentially battling you at some point- if you’re still keeping your position in it.”
Grisham hadn’t given that much thought. He’d been busier than ever helping the city rebuild, strengthening Cafe Nouveau’s newfound position of respect, and reconnecting with old friends. And now he had the moment to think about it.
He had joined the royale to achieve a goal, and now that goal had been achieved in some regard. Did he continue to participate in it? Or did he pull his rank and move on to other things in his life?
Grisham knew his answer; he was starting to enjoy battling again. No longer tethered by duty, now he could battle whenever and as much as he wanted. And he loved it. The thrill, the challenge of battling another trainer, of not worrying about his own strategies and ensuring his own victory.
“I intend to.” Grisham finally settled, “But if we ever end up facing off, you better bring your all. I want to see the Pride of Geosenge in all her glory.”
“The Pride of Geosenge!?” You balked, a laugh resounding in your chest, squeezing your side and sounding like music to Grisham’s ears, “Such a title! And you once said you weren’t naturally poetic.”
“Can you fault me for trying? Didn’t you say something once about a knight, a dragon, and a fairytale?” Grisham hummed, amusement pulling at the smile on his face.
“I did. I did.” You were coming down from your high, your voice still bubbling with elation, “Well- I can say that Chevalier and I are looking forward to it, don’t go holding back on me.”
“No holds barred.” Grisham promised, offering a fist that you gladly met.
You didn’t pull your hand away right away, neither did he. When you moved away, it felt slow and heavy.
Maybe it was the way he tilted his head, maybe it was the easy smile, maybe it was the wine. But you found yourself staring.
And he was staring back, his eyes flicking down for a moment, then back up.
“We should get Griselle.” You hesitantly insisted, “It’s getting late, isn’t it? Don’t you have to work in the morning?”
“Right. Right..” Grisham stepped back inside, “I’ll go get ‘Selle.”
Your heart hammered in your chest as he left. You took a deep breath, finished your wine, and followed him inside.
You were settling into your new life, and once you figured out your housing situation, you could start to figure out what was going on with your feelings.
In which there is bittersweetness, and a mistake. In which Grisham can't handle it anymore.
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CW: Slight dubcon, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms
WC: ~5.1k
Written to: Cherry Blossoms (Constantini), Libertango (Piazzolla, performed by 40 FINGERS ensemble), Fairytale no.3 in E-Flat Minor (Eric Christian), Nocturne in E Minor, op. 72, no.1 (Chopin, arr. Chad Lawson) and an Ambient rain loop.
The doors of Quasartico Inc slid closed behind you as you stepped out onto the street, the box containing your keystone and Galladite in hand, and a slow, curious cadence to your walk. You’d achieved a high enough rank in the Royale to be rewarded with a keystone of your own, and you’d selected it to be mounted in a bracelet. It wasn’t anything fancy, a polished silver band with a raised pattern of a double helix, the keystone mounted as the central point in the pattern. As for the Galladite… you hadn’t decided yet how you would mount it, let alone where it would be worn on your Chevalier.
You knew that Grisham’s Charizard had a mega stone; you’d spied its evolution once during a night in the royale. During the daytime, however, you couldn’t recall if you’d ever seen Charizard with his megastone on. Your steps slowed when your mind wandered to Grisham; you hadn’t seen him much since crashing at his apartment. It’d been nearly a month since then, you’d gone out for one or two drinks with Griselle since, and had brief conversations with him when you dropped by the truck, but they were only ever brief. He seemed distracted, and recently, so did Griselle.
You weren’t blind. The atmosphere in Lumiose had shifted; the growing number of wild zones and the expanded borders of the nightly battlezones were cause for concern. And you’d heard rumors about rogue mega evolutions, though you’d maybe been lucky not to see one for yourself. But that wouldn’t explain why Grisham and Griselle would be so… on edge. Could there be something else at play? You shook your head; it was best not to jump to conclusions, you’d learned not to trust your initial judgment.
Back to the immediate matter at hand, you were making your way to a jeweler that specialized in Pokémon accessories. Hopefully, you would be able to find something in your budget that Chevalier enjoyed. You certainly couldn’t afford what they sold at the emporium.
The shop wasn’t a huge one, and it was only a few years old, from what you’d understood. A bell above the door chimed as you entered, already eyeing up the glass display cases of various accessories.
“Be right there!” A voice called to you from the back of the shop.
“Take your time!” You chimed back, nearing a case of hairpins. Some of the display pieces had mega stones mounted in them already, polished to a perfect glittering sheen. Others were left empty, showing that they could be mounted with a stone of the buyer’s choice.
You already knew you were likely going to go for something silver to match your bracelet.
“Thank you for your patience.” The shop owner’s voice was approaching, and you started to turn towards him, a funny thought forming in your head that he sounded familiar-
Your name fell from their lips in genuine surprise, and you were confused for moments. You knew that face, a little younger and in a much different circumstance, telling you about the loss of his brother in Geosenge.
“Benoit.” His name rolled from your tongue, rough but familiar as you recognized one of your old neighbors. You remember he’d been in Shalour City when…
“Xerneas! Is that really you?” Benoit rounded the counter. “I thought you left Kalos for good.”
He pulled you into a hug, one that felt warm and inviting, solid. You caught the faint petrichor of your childhood home upon him. When he pulled away, his hands lingered on your shoulders for a moment as he gave you a once-over. You gave him the same; it really was Benoit. He looked brighter now, definitely older, his hair fully gray when last you’d seen him, it’d been salt and pepper. There was light in his eyes again, and you couldn’t help but smile at the geologist turned jeweler.
“I decided I was done traveling for a little bit.” You gave your white lie, “How have you been? I didn’t know you had a shop all the way in Lumiose.”
“Better now that I’ve got the shop up and running, business has been booming with this royale- I presumed you’re here for something for… what was his name again?”
“Chevalier.” You answered, “He’s a gallade now.”
“Of course he is- Come on, have a seat in the back! I’ll get some tea going, and we’ll discuss your options. After you tell me about your travels.” Benoit moved towards the shop door, flipping the sign from open to closed and motioning for you to step behind the counter. You did, remembering fondly how you and your family often had dinner with Benoit. He had quite an impressive collection of geological samples, and frequently regaled you and your sister with stories of his adventures in caves. You remembered, with a bittersweet twinge in your chest, how you and your sister hung onto every one of his words.
It was… actually really nice to see him again.
There was a small breakroom in the back of the shop, one that had glass doors leading out to a private courtyard where you could see Benoit’s Golurk sitting amongst the plants, Fletchlings perched upon the gentle giant’s shoulders. The breakroom itself was cozy, if a bit simple. You took a seat as Benoit began to prepare a pot of tea for both of you, waving to Golurk and earning a slow and measured wave back.
“So, start from the beginning. Where did you travel?”
“Honestly, mostly through Kalos. Just sort of wandered wherever the road took me. Saw Annistar City, and I did spend a summer living above a bakery in Aquacorde Town.” It was right before you’d returned to Lumiose, you remembered doing odd jobs around town when you needed money, and the baker had been kind enough to give you a cot so long as you helped her in her shop. Now that you were looking back on it, you might have enjoyed that life better if you’d been in a better headspace.
“Sounds like you avoided the coastal region pretty well.” Benoit noted, “Can’t blame you.. They finished rebuilding after two years. Have you been back to Geosenge at all?”
“I haven’t. I’ve been thinking about it but…” You trailed off; you had been thinking of visiting Geosenge. If anything, to finally sell the house that had been rebuilt for you, you had the deed tucked away somewhere in your papers, “I don’t know, I’ve been a little busy here.”
“Sure.” Benoit nodded, pouring water into the teapot and bringing it over to the table with cups, “I’ve been back, the builders did a good job. Hard to believe such a thing happened.”
“Mm.”
“It’s really been five years, hasn’t it?”
You paused. He was right, it had been five years since Geosenge. You’d been so caught up in everything that the anniversary of it all had quietly passed you by. It was odd to realize that now, and maybe there was a bit of guilt tied to the realization… how could you let the anniversary of their deaths pass by without acknowledging it? Was it right for you to have done so?
“I… suppose it has.” The words formed slowly, leaving you softer than you’d expected, “Time flies, I guess.”
“How’s Sylvie?” Benoit didn’t linger where he knew it hurt, for a brief moment, you’d seen the pain in his own eyes. Softened by the comfort of a familiar face.
“Doing fine. Energetic. Happy to be around people again.” Her coat had gotten brighter in the months you’d been living in Lumiose; maybe the stability was good for her. You pulled yourself from the edge, “She’s been having too much fun in this royale.”
“I bet!” Benoit barked, a warm smile on his face, “She always was a firecracker, I’d never seen brighter moonblasts. Well, except maybe from a Diancie! I’ve heard rumors that one has been spotted around town, wonder if someone’s caught it yet.”
“It’d be the first I’m hearing of it.” You shrugged, “But I could ask around, someone is bound to have heard something.”
“That’d be lovely, I’d very much like to see one again.”
“I’m sure you will. One way or another.”
“Well- don’t let me get distracted! Let me see the strapping lad!”
With an amused hum, you summoned Chevalier from his pokeball. He stood every bit as refined and poised as the knight he aimed to be, regarding you and Benoit with a respectful bow of his head. There was a beat, and then Chevalier tilted his head, recognizing Benoit.
“Gorgeous, stunning!” Benoit stood, admiring the Gallade before him, “Aren’t you knightly? I have a few options, pendant settings are most common, but I’ve also made head pins. Did you have anything in mind?”
“Just something that won't get in the way of him moving around, but I’m open to ideas.” You watched Chevalier relax into the familiarity, struck by the fact that he’d been with you every step of the way since you had first caught him. He, like you, stood taller now. Lighter.
He’d noticed you’d been getting better.
Benoit studied Chevalier, his face drawn in deep thought.
“How about a battle then? It’ll give me a better idea of how he moves. Besides, it’s been many years since you and I last battled.”
It seemed the tea was long forgotten then, but you still nodded. You wanted to do this the right way.
Benoit motioned you outside, opening the glass doors into the courtyard. The Fletchlings on Golurk’s shoulders taking flight at the interruption. Golurk, in response, stood as if knowing exactly what Benoit was stepping out for.
You looked to Chevalier, and he nodded, stepping out ahead of you. Not once did Benoit’s eyes leave Chevalier’s movements, his gaze discerning and sharp, and an all too familiar smile upon his face. You recalled briefly the training matches Benoit had with you when your father was unavailable; those matches felt like a lifetime ago, but the energy was still there as you couldn’t help but feel a little excited to battle Benoit again.
“Don’t go holding back on me now, I may be old, but Golurk is far sturdier than he appears.” Benoit looked towards Golurk, nodding, “Iron Defense, if you would, mon ami.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Chevalier, set up a swords dance.” Chevalier heeded your command, displaying a well-rehearsed frenetic dance, controlled and precise as ever.
“Bulldoze.” Benoit was so casual about it, the bond between him and his partner was implicitly clear.
“Move!” You called out, knowing that there was enough control still that you wouldn’t have to worry about being hit yourself. Benoit knew what he was doing, and the short distance was more than enough for your Gallade to dodge, “Follow up with a future sight!”
“Good setup!” Benoit noted with pride, “Golurk, use shadow ball.”
There was nowhere for Chevalier to go; the rippling shadows broke across his crossed arms, but he stood firm, if worse for wear. There was a type disadvantage on your end, but you prided yourself on being prepared to handle those. You could see the gathering psychic energy above Golurk; that future sight was about to fire off.
“Don’t let another of those hit, close in with a leaf blade!”
Chevalier dropped low, the blade forming as he closed the distance. He swung up in an arc, the razor-sharp leaf blade scraping across Golurk’s outer shell. It was a good hit; you felt pride swell in your chest, especially as it was followed immediately by the raining of psychic energy upon Golurk. You almost cheered when it did; you felt like a little kid again, unburdened and unfettered by competition. There was no desire to win here, just to have fun.
A couple of more exchanges like that, and Benoit eventually called the match, satisfaction and pride on his face in equal measure.
“I think that’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.” Benoit hummed, leading you back inside where he made a fresher pot of tea (setting aside the previous pot to water plants with) and retrieved snacks for both of you and your pokemon, “How do you feel about a scarf and a pin? It would be quite fashionable, and I could use a lighter material for the scarf. Maybe even a ribbon.”
“So a broach.”
“Exactly that. It’d be small and out of the way, pinned to a softer material; it wouldn’t restrict any of your Gallade’s movements. And- he’d look dashing mega evolved with it, don’t you think?”
You huffed a small laugh, easing back into the chair you’d been sitting at before, “I think that sounds great.”
“Tea first, then we’ll take a look in the shop. I think I have just the broach in mind, and it wouldn’t take me long to set the stone either.”
---
The sun was starting to approach the horizon by the time you left Benoit’s shop. Looking at the broaches Benoit had in mind had spilled into dinner, and you’d found that Benoit’s apartment was just above his shop. His cooking hadn’t changed one bit; it truly felt as if no time had passed between the two of you.
He’d asked again if you considered returning to Geosenge, even if it was just to sell the house.
“It’s still in your name, the new mayor has been making sure the yard is taken care of. He’s a good man like that.”
You… considered it. You hadn’t been home in years, but you weren’t sure if now was the right time, even with the progress you’d made.
Sunset was upon you as you rounded the end of the street, a bag from Benoit’s shop in hand with your keystone bracelet and Chevallier’s broach inside, and the warmth of nostalgia lingering in your chest. Chevalier himself trailed behind you, silently staying exactly three steps behind you. Ever loyal and watchful.
You paused. There was a park nearby, one with a small pond and a gazebo overlooking it. This time of day, it was painted in a golden glow, the sky rich hues of pinks and purples. It wasn’t Geosenge or Shalour’s Tower of Mastery, not in the slightest, but it would do.
“Chevalier.” You turned, “Come ‘ere.”
You stood in that gazebo, bathed in golden light. Chevalier stood before you, dropping down to one knee as if knowing what your intentions were. You reached into the bag from Benoit, he’d placed the broach into a small velvet box, and given you the option of a silk scarf or ribbon. Your hand found the ribbon first, an ephemeral white lace, made of Ariados silk. Carefully and as steadily as you could, you tied the lace ribbon around Chevalier’s neck, trying your best at tying a cute bow reminiscent of Sylvie’s ribbons. You didn’t center the bow, instead having it fall to his right side as you pinned the broach to the center of the bow.
“My Chevalier.” You hummed, barely above a whisper, “Look at you, you look like a real knight now.”
Chevalier made a low note, reaching up to gently place a hand over the keystone. His red eyes looked to you with silent veneration, wet with pride for you. Your vision blurred at the edges, knowing who should have been here to see this. You blinked, wiping your eyes, setting your shoulders back and smiling a bittersweet smile.
“I’m proud of you.”
---
Another night, and Grisham was sitting alone in Lysandre cafe, waiting for his next promotion match to be scheduled. He’d been sitting at C-Rank since his promotion match with Corbeau; he’d long since secured his challenger’s ticket for the next one, so what was the holdup?
The waiting around was agonizing; there wasn’t much time left, and things were getting worse. The people were starting to talk about rogue mega evolutions now, and whatever grip Quasartico Inc. had on the situation was quickly weakening. Why not just call the damn Royale off and try to find a different solution? Grisham had half the mind to present himself to Quasartico personally, but he knew he had no standing. At best, he’d be escorted out, at worst… but wouldn’t it at least be worth a shot? Didn’t he owe it to himself, to everyone who relied on him, to try?
It was becoming harder and harder to keep his cool as the days progressed, and he knew he was wasting his time waiting for a match that might never come. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t exactly just go up and ask to be made the recipient of AZ’s Floette, nor could he take her. He needed Floette to work with him, not resent him. But if that had to happen…
Then there was the matter of you. You still didn’t know. And Grisham wasn’t sure how to tell you. He supposed the easiest way was to show you, to take you down into the labs and talk you through all of the data, all of the records and findings, the reality of what Team Flare had failed to accomplish, the work they had built off of. It would have given you the full picture of what was at stake, the full picture of what Grisham was desperately trying to prevent. But he hesitated.
Was it right to do that to you? To burden you with the same knowledge he had, to leave you waiting and hoping that the solution would be found in time? That an inheritor would be chosen, that it wouldn’t be too late to turn back what was already in motion? Would he alone give you enough hope? That was if you even believed him.
Grisham was at a crossroads.
And sitting around waiting wasn’t doing anything. Even doing inventory a third time was doing little to ease the frustration; he felt like he was at the edge of a cliff, waiting for a stiff breeze to push him one way or the other. One thing that did maybe help a little, and that Corbeau’s hand was clear in doing so, was that the truck was no longer being vandalized. Grisham chose not to think about how that feat was achieved; that was a worry for later, when he no longer had to worry about a quintessential ticking time bomb.
He was about to pack it up for the night, hopefully getting home before that night’s forecasted rain was in full swing. The last thing he needed was an uncomfortably wet walk home. But there was a knock at the door, and moments later, you poked your head in.
“Bad time?” You asked, he looked like he hadn’t slept well, stress increasingly evident on his features. Did you need him? You looked fine. Stable. Healthy. Content. He was a little surprised not to see either Zorua or Sylvie at your feet; usually, one of the two, if not both of them, were with you.
“Not at all.” Grisham slid his put-together mask back on, looking like he was relaxed in front of you, “Coffee?”
“I’m alright, I just saw the light on, and I thought it’d be you.”
“The others don’t come around that often if they aren’t picking up supplies for the trucks.” Grisham shrugged, “I was just wrapping up inventory.”
“All alone?"
“I like doing inventory alone; it’s calming.” It wasn’t; it was mind-numbing. A distraction that wasn’t working as well as it should.
“Is it alright if I join you then?”
“Go on ahead.” Grisham motioned towards the table he’d been working at, eyeing the keystone bracelet on your wrist, that was new. “How have you been?”
“Fine, actually. I ran into someone I knew back in Geosenge.” You settled into the chair across from him, “Benoit, he was one of my neighbors. It was… really nice to see him again, actually.”
“That’s good.” He moved a few papers around, triple-checking his numbers, “That’s really good.”
You paused, considering your next words carefully.
“I’m thinking about going back to visit, and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”
Grisham froze. He could feel something in him straining, a frayed thread on the verge of snapping. He swallowed painfully, clearing his throat and trying to subtly blink back the burning sting in his eyes.
"Back to Geosenge?"
You nodded.
“What makes you think that’s a good idea?” Oh, that was not how he wanted it to sound.
“I just thought-” You tried to defend, pausing to take a breath and calm yourself down, “I just thought it might be good for you too.”
Any other time, and he might’ve agreed with you. Might’ve jumped at the chance, asked if he could have joined you before you even had to ask. Then again, what was there for him to see that he hadn’t already? There were plenty of reminders of what Team Flare did in his day-to-day life; he didn’t need to physically go to another reminder- another memorial, nonetheless. Especially not now, when there was so little time.
You didn’t know; he didn’t tell you.
“I...” Grisham searched for words. Did he tell you now?
“I’m not even sure when I plan to go, so you have some time to think about it if you need it.” You saved Grisham the awkwardness, the expression on your face changing as you studied him, “You look tired. Are you doing alright?”
No. He wasn’t. Did he tell you?
Grisham took a deep breath, and the mask he wore slipped. His shoulders slumped, and he looked much more exhausted than he had been moments before. You earned a glimpse at the very least, and maybe he would tell you more as he got more comfortable. You deserved to know what was happening in Lumiose.
“Honestly? No. I’m…” He carefully considered his words, “Frustrated. With how things have been progressing.”
“Does this have to do with Cafe Nouveau, the Royale, or Flare Nouveau?” You knew very well that you would be in a much different position in life if you hadn’t met Grisham, and if he hadn’t been as patient and steadfast in his efforts to be the support you needed. This was repaying the kindness, and maybe part of you had come to realize the value he occupied in your life. Maybe you were starting to consider him a friend.
You still hesitated, choosing your words carefully. The way the two of you had parted last time haunted you. It was like he was still having to convince himself of something.
“A little bit of everything.” Grisham sighed, “But more- do you know why the Royale was started?”
“Something about determining the strongest mega evolution trainer, right? It’s just a PR stunt by Quasartico Inc, at least from what I heard.” There you were, repeating an easy lie that so many had believed. It disgusted Grisham that it came from you of all people, you who should’ve been told the truth, “You wanted to use it to restore Flare Nouveau’s honor- is… that not going well for you?”
“I’m waiting for my next promotion match. I’ve… been waiting. For a while.”
“That’s odd, usually those are decided the moment you meet the qualifications for one. Do you think it’s a glitch?”
“Maybe. But it’d be just my luck to have that happen. Fate hasn’t exactly smiled kindly on me.” Grisham shook his head, “I shouldn’t complain, I know exactly the position I stand in.”
“You’re allowed to feel frustrated.” You rested your hands on the table, your thumbs tracing over one another, an idea forming in your head, “When’s the last time you did anything for yourself?”
There was that question again.
“Leisure is not something I can really afford.” He tried to brush the question aside; working towards his goals had to be more than enough. He stood, organizing his papers and moving towards the counter to put them in the file holder he kept them in.
“You’re the one who told me that taking walks would be good for me.” You turned in your seat, an air of concerned indignance lacing your voice.
“It’s not something that can be fixed by walking.”
Your eyebrows knit together. He was starting to sound all too much like you had.
“What can fix it then? If it’s something out of your control, what can I do to help?”
Grisham saw the irony; he had helped you, and now you were turning around to help him. Had he done enough to deserve such kindness, especially from you?
“I just need to see this through, that’s all.” He tried to reassure you, but you weren’t swayed.
“Grisham.” His name felt unfamiliar on your tongue, especially the way you’d said it. Soft, not pleading but patiently pressing. You stood up, “You can tell me.”
There was a lot to tell. And Grisham turned, every ounce of confidence that he built up to tell you fizzled out and died the moment he saw you standing behind him. You looked so confident, so bright, and just in your offer to help him. The light on the counter cast your features in soft shadows, your eyes practically burning.
You were looking at him in a way few ever really looked at him.
He said your name, with a humble weight on the cusp of breaking. No longer foreign on his tongue.
You weren’t sure who kissed who first, but your lips were crashing into Grisham’s, your breath rolling against his in sharp hisses and needy moans. His hands tangled in your hair. Yours rested on his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt in your fists as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. He tasted like coffee, bitter with a touch of sweetness. Slowly, you felt Grisham turning the two of you around, his leg pressed between yours, and coaxed you back until you felt the edge of the counter brush your elbow.
He broke the kiss, leaving a thin trail of saliva connecting you that broke when he looped his arms under your thighs, lifting you to the counter and capturing you back in another heated kiss. Your legs wrapped around him, drawing him closer. His body heat and cologne mingled with your perfume in a dizzying array of scents, and the throaty groan he made when your tongue found his again sent shivers down your spine. His eyes were burning into yours, a molten amber hue that was curled heat in your core.
You didn’t know whose shirt came off first, but Grisham was leaving a trail of kisses along your neck while his hands kneaded your breasts, and yours clung to his back, your head rolling at the feeling of being touched like this. It felt nice to be wanted, to be desired, like this. To have a moment where you didn’t have to think.
Warmth bundled between your legs and Grisham’s hot, lingering touches decorated your body.
His fingers found your belt, and realization and clarity finally caught up with you.
This was wrong. This was so wrong.
Your hands shot down and pulled his hands away, desperate for whatever was happening between you two to stop. Immediately.
“Wait, no- stop.”
You didn’t need to say it twice. Grisham pulled away entirely, taking several steps back and nearly crashing into one of the tables. His eyes blown wide in horror as his own realization hit him.
“I am so sorry-”
“This is wrong, I need to-” You searched for your shirt, all the while your head spiraled, “I need to go!”
You threw on your shirt, barely covering your midriff, before you were out the door and on the street, barely registering the way the door slammed shut behind you and rattled on the hinges. You only focused on putting as much distance between you and Lysandre Cafe as possible, putting one foot in front of the other until you could make it home, your mind reeling.
You kissed him. You kissed him. You were going to do more than just kiss him. Disgusting. Horrible. What the fuck was wrong with you?
Slowly, you began to register the cool rain on your skin, soaking your clothing as you slowed your escape to a walk, then to a halt. You felt sick, your stomach twisted into knots, your throat tight.
You kissed him- he kissed you. His hands were- you were going to have sex with the man you tried to kill. No- no, you’d moved well past that, maybe you did? Did you ever really move past that? Or were you willingly ignoring all the red flags? All because you finally thought you found the connection you thought you needed? Were you really better?
The rain soaked your shoulders, plastered your hair to your face. It felt cold, your hands already starting to feel stiff and numb. The rain was rolling in in heavy sheets now; no doubt you would be sopping wet by the time you made it home.
Staying in Lumiose after failing to kill him was a mistake. Getting to know Grisham was a mistake- did you even really know him? Kissing him, touching him, letting him kiss you was a mistake. A disgusting mistake.
Staying in Lumiose wasn’t a good idea anymore.
You had to go. Be anywhere but here.
---
Grisham watched you go. He didn’t even flinch when the door slammed shut, and the bell above it rang for longer than it had in years.
He stayed frozen in the spot he’d landed in, eyes locked onto where you’d been atop the counter. He couldn’t get over the sound of your voice, your words repeating over and over in his head until it was just the tone of voice you’d used. So disgusted, so scared. The very last thing Grisham had ever wanted to hear.
He kissed you. He took it too far. He sought your body out instead of facing what he was feeling head-on and letting you in. After everything you had trusted him with. After every promise.
And the look you gave him. Regret. Shame. He’d never forget it, and he would never forgive himself for earning that look.
He tried to take a breath, his throat felt tight. What came out was a strangled sound, pitchy and breaking, painfully clawing its way from his chest.
Grisham screamed, an agonized and mourning wail, knocking over the nearest table and watching as the impact of it cracked the tile floor below. His chest and shoulders heaved, his eyes burned, and his vision blurred. He tore his glasses off, burying his face in his hand and trying so desperately to pull himself back together.
He couldn’t.
His knees wobbled, and he barely got to a chair before his legs gave out. He collapsed into deep sobs that tore at his vocal cords and choked him.
Of all the things that could have been good.
Outside, the rain rolled in, drowning out any and all noises from the old Lysandre Cafe.
Written to: Lone Sojourner (Genshin Impact) + ambient rain loop
It’d been a week since that night, you tried to put it out of your head, instead turning your attention to packing what little belongings you cared to keep and securing a train back to Geosenge. Staying in Lumiose didn’t feel right after all you’d done, and at least you still had a home in Geosenge. Even if it had been years since you’d last set foot there.
The call with the mayor had been a pleasant one; he’d moved from Shalour City after the incident and was happy to hear you would be making a return. And your landlady had been disappointed to see you go, but understanding without you needing to tell her the full details.
You avoided Centrico Plaza, the Prism Tower now completely covered from base to the tip of the spire in scaffolding, a foreboding and ugly obelisk casting far too long and dark of a shadow over Lumiose. And you’d withdrawn your rank in the Royale, you had no plans to return. You were allowed to keep your keystone bracelet, though you had that tucked away back in it’s box, having no immediate need for it. Sylvie comforted you where she could, in silent moments when you folded your laundry and paused, questioning if you were making the right decision.
It had to be the right one. Getting as close as you had to Grisham was… wrong. What happened was maybe a misunderstanding. There’d been no romance tied to it on your end, what you wanted was purely sexual. And disgustingly wrong to receive from someone like him.
Why did that statement tug so sharply at your heart?
You ignored that feeling, turning back to your packing. What you weren’t taking with you would be sold, and that would be it.
---
Grisham turned his attention from the rest of the world; his promotion match had happened. A cruel twist of fate placed him against Griselle, and they’d settled the match quickly. He made no mention of the cracked tile in Lysandre Cafe, and Griselle didn’t ask. You didn’t drop by the truck, and Griselle didn’t ask, but she looked at him with deep-set concern.
He focused instead on securing his next challenger’s ticket. He was one step closer to achieving his goal, and he’d still do it, with or without your presence.
Grisham wanted to tell himself that you had been a distraction. That he should have never placed any of his fragile hopes in you. But that wasn’t fair to you; he was the one in the wrong. It was his fault; he didn’t read the situation for what it was.
So he distracted himself with painstakingly perfect latte art and dialed in shots of espresso. And if you had come to the truck, or even wandered past it, his eyes were trained elsewhere.
Even if the guilt ate at him.
---
The journey back to Geosenge had taken less time than you’d expected. The train took you along the northern coast to Shalour city, a new development. Last time you’d left home, there hadn’t been a train, and it was only fitting that your train ride was on a rainy day. You watched the familiar coastlands zoom by, sunlight breaking through small gaps in the clouds, casting brilliant pillars of light upon a glittering sea.
You tried not to think about it, tried not to carry your regrets with you as Lumiose faded into the distance.
The Tower of Mastery loomed in the distance, becoming ever closer as the train slowly pulled into the station. The tide was high, obscuring the path out to it. A shame, you might’ve wanted to explore it if only to delay your return to Geosenge just a hair longer.
You stayed in a hotel room that night, and the gentle sunlight that greeted you in the morning held an eerie stillness to it. At least the sea smelled different here, not at all like the ashen salt brine of Sootopolis, and you took comfort in that distinction. You got out of bed. You got dressed. Your team joined you for breakfast, and you half-debated tasking your Drifblim with carrying you the rest of the way to Geosenge, half-debated taking another day in Shalour City. Maybe visit the Tower of Mastery.
You knew on a clear day you'd be able to see Geosenge from there, even if the standing stones were gone.
But you’d be too tempted to turn away. If you were going to commit to finally returning home, you needed to make sure there were no excuses.
You found someone who was driving a delivery to Cyllage City and offered to help load her truck for a ride to Geosenge. She’d made polite conversation, but mostly stayed silent during the drive. The radio filled the silence between you as the countryside idled by, becoming more and more familiar as the truck drew closer to the place you’d grown up.
The air was starting to smell familiar again, whispering your hair against your cheek as if welcoming you home.
---
Grisham found out you had left Lumiose when he stopped by your apartment and found your landlady tending the small yard out front of it. He hadn’t slept well, but he tried to be polite. His shoulders fell when he learned you’d left.
He thanked your landlady and went about his day, quietly sliding back into the truck without a word to Griselle on why his fifteen-minute break had taken nearly forty minutes. She could berate him as much as she wanted later.
Griselle had a feeling something had happened, but what could she say to Grisham that wouldn’t get him shutting her out?
At first, he felt anger, a familiar fire burning under his skin. You left. After everything. You left. He didn’t bite back the anger, only tried quelling it with logic and reason.
You left because he kissed you. You left because of him.
It was a truth he would have to accept.
---
Geosenge wasn’t the same as you’d left it. Gone were the standing stones that proudly marked the town center, gone was the open wound the ultimate weapon left behind, now there was a field where the stones once stood, central and stalwart. A field, and a memorial. One that you distantly remembered the inauguration of, one whose design had been sent to you with your family’s names intended to be etched into the stone work, only pending approval on the spelling. One that you still hesitated to fully look at.
But you looked at it now.
A statue of Xerneas towered over you, its head bowed low to the carved stone flowers and grass at its feet. Horns wreathed in fresh and dried flowers from visitors.
You found your family’s names, brushing the tiny fins of lichen from them with your hand and not minding how the stone scraped lightly at your skin. Their names were spelled correctly. Carved together. Yours missing from the list.
Your name was called with friendly warmth, welcoming you home to a place you’d carried the grief of for too long. You put on your best smile and greeted the mayor, whom you only knew by voice. He was young, not much older than you. Gepard was his name.
Gepard toured you through the town, proudly showing you familiar sites given new life, and new builds that told of hopeful expansion. Like a copper pot cleaned of its patina and given a new handle, Geosenge had been rebuilt. He showed you your rebuilt childhood home last; it looked almost the same as what you’d grown up in. Except that the door was a different color, and the flagstone steps were laid differently.
But it was your home. Devoid of furniture except for the bare bones basics, covered in drop cloths to protect them from dust, and occasionally cleared of ghost type pokemon. You knew the hallways already, the number of steps on the stairs, the way the sun would spill through the windows in the morning and silently slip away in the evenings. You knew the hearth, and knew you would find comfort there.
It may not have been a place of honor, but it was your home.
---
Grisham stayed up late. Insomnia made worse by the weight of responsibility and guilt.
He sat at the tiny kitchen table, his Pyroar sleeping at his feet, and the letter he’d been trying to write splayed out before him. He didn’t know if you’d even read it, but like many things in his life, he didn’t think he had any other choice but to try.
Words failed him; there were things he wanted to say to you in person, things he should have told you so long ago. He started with an apology and rewrote that apology at least four or five times, agonizing over his word choice and phrasing before he was remotely satisfied with it. It still didn’t absolve him, but it was a start.
He considered his next words. What could he tell you? What was right to tell you over a letter and what should have been told to you when he still had your ear?
Grisham could hear Griselle shift in her sleep, her bedroom not far, and the door cracked open ever so slightly. She still didn’t know. Maybe it was him being kind, maybe it was him avoiding the truth. Maybe it was even that for once, this was his own grief. Not a shared moment, or the result of a world-changing truth. Just the result of his own misstep, his own choices.
And Grisham wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
---
The days slid by slowly, quietly. A week had passed before you knew it, and that week extended into a month. You took that time to soak in the change, to breathe air rich from a distant ocean and mired in petrichor and heather, to lie in the fields watching the clouds and Drifloon waltz overhead. It wasn’t all enjoyment of the mundanely familiar world you’d grown up in. You still carried on with your life: cooking for yourself when you needed to eat, wandering the open-air market with Sylvie trilling in your canvas bag and Zorua circling politely around your feet when you needed to get groceries, doing odd jobs around town when you needed money. Familiar faces crossed your path, regarding you with the same haunted familiarity they had since that day. But there was something else to it now. The silence over Geosenge wasn’t one of suffocating grief, but of acceptance, of growth. The memory lingered, but it remained a memory.
And it brought you a bit of comfort in knowing that, easing a weight from your chest that had been lingering for too long.
There were more unfamiliar faces than familiar, but some carried familiarity to them. New families. New couples. New farmers you politely got to know. New children who looked at you and your team with wonder, unaware of the horror that had claimed Geosenge five years ago, unaware of your near transgressions in Lumiose. Who wanted to play with Drifblim and Sylvie. Who left flower wreaths on Trevenant.
There were still nights when you couldn’t sleep, where the familiar scent of your hometown fooled you into a dream, or your departure from Lumiose haunted you.
You sat with those feelings on the steps of your rebuilt childhood home. The stone steps felt different under your hands, even though they’d been built from the same steps that you’d once sat on as a child. Sylvie curled on your lap, and you wondered if she ever thought of the sister who had raised her. You wondered how your family would view you now, if they would still have embraced you. How long or short your mother’s hair might have been, how bright your father’s eyes would be, which Pokémon your sister might have made friends with. For once, your grief didn’t ignite any sense of anger in you, nor did it bring you to tears. It settled on your shoulders, but it only remained surface level.
Your Gallade joined you, silently standing just at the edge of your vision before slowly sitting next to you upon the steps. This had been his home once, too, and you wondered how much he remembered. He still wore the lace ribbon you’d tied around his neck, and you hardly had the heart to remove the brooch either. As far as you were concerned, Chevalier had long since earned that honor. As for you and the keystone bracelet that sat on the kitchen table? You weren’t sure if you’d earned that honor yet yourself.
---
Griselle cornered him.
And he told her everything.
About wishing you hadn’t stopped the first time you’d met. About how you’d sought him out to apologize, about how you tried to-and did-get better. He told her about his misstep, and then he told her he had it handled.
He’d written a letter.
“It’s her choice now, it always should have been.”
Griselle was at a loss for words; her jaw was tight, the frown on her face deeply disappointed, resentment burning in her eyes. She was just starting to get used to the idea of you being around more, to have someone outside of Flare Nouveau that she could maybe let her guard down around.
But Grisham had misread the moment and ruined something good.
She swallowed that familiar anger; it wasn’t the first time someone she cared about had hurt her that way. And right now, she needed to be ready. Grisham’s next promotion match had been decided, and they recognized the trainer. One of those Team MZ trainers, the very ones that were housed by and allied themselves with AZ.
Much was left unspoken between them.
---
Grisham had sent you a letter, and you held it in your hands. Contemplative, solemn, the weight of it wasn’t much, but it felt heavy when you’d seen the letter in your mailbox the first time, even without touching it.
You traced his handwriting, your name written in a humble cursive with the same weight he had once said it with, your hand unable to bring itself to break the envelope open. The envelope was nothing fancy; he didn’t even have an address for you. Your landlady in Lumiose had forwarded the letter to you. It had arrived a week ago, and you had left it on the kitchen table, eyeing it over the passing days with your hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, giving it a passing thought while you moved about the kitchen. Holding it in your hands when you sat on the steps, never quite able to work up the courage to read it.
You wondered what he had written. Ideas of the apology it could have been played in your mind, spoken in a fragmented cadence of his voice. The guilt, the responsibility. But you wondered too if he meant it. Or if, as you had been, he was going through the motions. And if, also like you, he’d gotten so used to it that he hardly recognized that he was, even when he thought he was getting better.
You weren’t much better; you were realizing that now. Yes, you had a better grip on your grief, yes, the tears were fewer. Yes, it hurt less. Yes, you were breathing. And yes, you had returned to Geosenge. But you still ran. Just like before.
---
Grisham had already decided what he would do the moment he saw the name of his next opponent. And with an eerily calm grace to him, he moved quietly to clean and close up the truck.
“You’re really going to tell them everything?” Griselle gave him a look of disbelief, “There’s no point in it. Like I said, anyone whose aligned themselves with AZ has already-”
“They still deserve to know.” Grisham coolly cut her off, his attention trained on wiping down the counter in front of him, “We don’t know what AZ has told them, or if he even told them the truth.”
“Is it because you didn’t tell her?”
He stopped midmotion, his grip on the towel tightening, squeezing sanitizer onto the countertop. He eased his grip, continuing to clean.
Grisham’s non-answer was enough of an answer for Griselle. She turned back to the folding table, unsure of what to say that wasn’t anger.
---
Grisham deserved better. You deserved better.
You were realizing this slowly. Leaving wasn’t the right choice, running wasn’t the right choice.
The letter was on your table, and you eyed it with your hands wrapped around your mug of tea. It was a gloomy day, one that you didn’t feel like doing much on. But it was time.
Zorua and Sylvie were at the window, watching the first few drops of rain race down the glass. Sylvie’s tail flicked in interest, and Zorua’s nose left marks on the window that you would clean off later. Outside, you knew Trevenant was thriving in the misty gloom. Drifblim had retreated to his pokeball, and Chevalier was somewhere in the house. The house gave them room, and you hardly felt alone when you had your team to surround yourself with.
It felt mundane. Domestic.
You thought this was relaxed, that this was good. But you were just seeking another excuse to delay opening the letter.
You sat at the table. The rain began to drum on the rooftop.
Previous | AO3 | Next
Tags: @anotherpokemonfanaccount + @fruitteagoblin
WC: ~5.7k
CW: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, light substance abuse, existential dread, brief crash out, depiction of a panic attack, discussion of emotional neglect
Written to: Oblivion (Piazzolla, performed by Nermin Tulic & Orion Ensemble), Caught in the Rain (Chihiro Yamanaka), Pont de la Tournelle (Constantini)
I hope it brings you peace.
Peace. Did Grisham know the meaning of that word?
He could see the Rust Syndicate headquarters now, dark against the pale blue light of the early dawn. It stood out like a sore thumb, foreboding and overt in its Johtonian influence, almost to a tacky degree. Grisham wasn’t surprised to see that the usual guards weren’t at their post, not because it was so early.
He was expected.
He should have known this would happen. Corbeau was good at pulling the right strings and getting exactly what he wanted, through whatever means necessary. Though Grisham had to admit, Corbeau usually never took without giving back in some form or another, even if his clients weren’t the direct recipients of his generosity. But even still… Grisham was coming to realize that part of what he felt was jealousy.
Corbeau had escaped his affiliation with Lysandre, escaped the association with Team Flare, he’d built himself an empire and found peace.
There that word was again. Peace.. had Grisham ever known it? He tried to recall if he had. Had there ever been a moment in his childhood when the impending weight of a world without enough resources wasn’t weighing on his subconscious? Had there been a moment where he wasn’t being primed to be something more than the teenager he was? When he wasn’t rejected over and over, despite how hard he pushed himself?
No. He supposed he’d never known it. Not in a way that mattered in the end.
He paused at the threshold of the Rust Syndicate’s front yard. Corbeau stood just before the doors to the building, dressed in a well-tailored suit and regarding Grisham with a practiced smile and a venomous glint in his eyes. Dignified and indignant all at once. He hadn’t changed one bit.
“I figured you might value a little bit of discretion, old pal.” Corbeau spoke, unmoving, but too familiar for Grisham’s comfort, “Consider yourself lucky, it’s not often I allow private tours of the Rust Syndicate.”
“You make it sound like this is a leisurely visit.” Grisham lacked the energy to put enough bite behind his words: “This is the last place I wanted to be, but I’m sure you knew that.”
“Believe it or not, I didn’t arrange this meeting. I’d have preferred we meet on more equal terms.” Corbeau gave him a once-over as Grisham approached, “But beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I suppose not.” Grisham stopped only a few feet away from Corbeau, “You look like you’ve done well for yourself.”
“I’ve had a fortuitous last few years. Word on the street is that you paid a visit to the hospital recently- care to explain that?” Corbeau searched his face for any remains of injuries, but they’d long since healed.
Grisham swallowed the truth.
“Wrong place, wrong time.” He wore a placid expression; he’d gotten good at lying. And he didn’t want to be the one to put you on Corbeau’s radar if you weren’t already.
Corbeau clicked his tongue in disapproval, knowing he’d have to work a lot harder to get Grisham to open up. He opened the door to the Rust Syndicate building. What might have been a risky move was taken with calculated ease as Corbeau stepped into the building ahead of Grisham.
“Let’s let bygones be bygones, yeah? We have a promotion match to carry out.” Corbeau spoke over his shoulder, “But it is good to see you again.”
“Mm.” Grisham nodded, unsure if the sentiment was shared on his end.
The elevator ride up to Corbeau’s office was tense and silent. And Grisham’s thoughts wandered.
Peace. What was it like? Was he deserving of it? And would clearing the names of all in Flare Nouveau be enough to warrant Grisham a life of peace?
“Not having second thoughts, are you?”
“Are you scared, Corbeau?” Grisham brushed the question aside, earning a strained grin from Corbeau as the muscles in his neck flexed and the veins on his forehead became more pronounced.
“Not one bit. I’ve been looking forward to battling you again, after all these years.” The elevator doors opened directly into Corbeau’s office, a frown falling upon his face. “So don’t even think about disappointing me.”
Grisham followed Corbeau through the office. It was so… different from what Lysandre would have done. Grisham remembered the deep reds and scenic, plein air paintings in Lysandre’s office. Corbeau’s office was just as curated, but wholly lacked any Kalosian influence.
So was that how he did it? Was it easier to make people fear and respect him by posing as a foreigner than to remind Lumiose of the evil that had once walked amongst them? No… evil wasn’t the word Grisham would use to describe Lysandre. Misguided, yes, disillusioned, yes. Cynical. World-weary. Deluded. The list went on, all of them better than the word evil.
Maybe it wasn’t a fair observation to make of Corbeau. Grisham didn’t know him half as well as he should have, despite the two of them having once been friendly rivals in their teens. But the difference between where they’d ended up in life despite Lysandre’s role was a stark one, and now that Grisham stood in the results of Corbeau’s life, he could not ignore the sheer distance between them. To Grisham, it looked like Corbeau had everything he ever wanted, so why would he compete in the Royale? Was there any honor behind it?
“Are you going to keep me waiting?” Corbeau was standing in the rock garden behind his desk, his coat having been removed and laid neatly over the back of his desk chair, and he was currently rolling up his sleeves. The edges of intricate and colorful tattoos on Corbeau’s arms peeked out at Grisham. Those were new.
“Let’s get this over with. I have a job to work.” Grisham tried to banish all thoughts he could from his head as he stepped onto the court; he needed to be someone else in this moment. Someone better.
Someone deserving of a peaceful life.
Corbeau narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t at all like what he imagined his rematch with Grisham would have been like. He expected more of a challenge, especially since he knew Grisham had the advantage over him. He expected more bite, he expected more passion, and an overwhelming fire that never seemed to go out. What he got was a pale imitation of a once bright flame.
There was clearly something on his mind, and his attention wasn’t fully on the fight. His commands were clear, but ill timed, sloppy by Grisham’s standards. And his team was suffering for it.
“Tyranitar, ice punch to your left.” Grisham commanded, his steps crunching through the carefully curated white pebbles of Corbeau’s oversized indoor zen garden. His gaze was glassy, distant. Distracted.
Corbeau’s Roserade was faster, dodging to the side and closing the distance for a point blank giga drain.
Now he was down to Charizard.
“Char-”
“Enough.” Corbeau halted, “Roserade, come here.”
Grisham blinked, opening his mouth to say something as the dust settled.
“Are you trying to piss me off? I was looking forward to you giving it your all, to us pushing our partners to shine, and this- this is what you do?” Corbeau stormed towards him, “Answer me, Grisham! When did you decide to give up?”
He couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped him, stressed and strained, an alternative to completely breaking.
“Give up? I’m not giving up.”
“You’re definitely not giving it your all.” Corbeau shook his head, “Not in the slightest.”
“I am. I am giving it my all.” Grisham spat back, sharp, cold, but not as pointed as Corbeau, his voice wavered, “Every day I give it my all, and for what? It doesn’t change where I stand, nothing changes!”
He narrowed his eyes at Corbeau, seething, tears stinging his eyes, and tension tight across his whole body. This had been a long time coming, and now it was an almost impossible task to hold back the complicated knot of anger and rejection.
“You don’t even get it. Your hands aren’t stained in the same blood as mine; you have everything you could ever want.”
Corbeau said nothing, even though he clearly was barely holding himself back. In the past, he might have thrown himself at Grisham, hands flying, insults hurled, momentary hatred spilled. Not this time. This time, Corbeau took a deep breath… and watched Grisham crumble.
“What’s even the point of any of this? Why compete at all?” Grisham’s voice broke, sounding smaller and more pathetic than Corbeau had ever heard him. Grisham felt suddenly vulnerable, caught under the steady eye of Corbeau.
“Because I still think this city is worth something, Grisham. Horrible as it can be.” Corbeau exhaled, his shoulders relaxing, his tone softened, “I believe this city can be better than it is, and I’m willing to do anything to ensure that.”
Grisham’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and words evaded his grasp as Corbeau studied him for a moment before sighing and motioning over towards one of the many couches. Wordlessly inviting Grisham to sit before moving over to a small tea station that he had missed on entering the office. His legs heavy and unwilling, Grisham slowly heeded Corbeau’s direction, steering himself towards the couch.
He sat slowly and awkwardly, not quite allowing himself to get comfortable on what was otherwise one of the comfiest couches Grisham had been on in a long time. The guilt of his outburst was hitting him like a mach punch and his mind was reeling, his chest felt tight. He was supposed to be better than that. He needed to be better than that; too many relied on him for him to fuck up. He’d almost lost, he’d almost wasted precious time.
“You still like your roserade tea with lemon honey, yes?”
Grisham nodded, taking a deep breath and holding it before exhaling. He spread his hands out over his lap, focusing on the way the fabric of his pants felt underhand.
Another breath, another exhale.
The sound of a ceramic tea cup being set upon its matching dish, and the steady stream of water into a teapot.
Another breath… another exhale.
The floral smell of roserade tea cut with lemon-infused honey filled the office.
“Give it a few minutes.” Corbeau set the tray down on the table before sitting on the couch across from Grisham. He seemed tired, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose before deeply sighing, a deep-set frustration over his face. Whatever cool and calculated guise he had been wearing before quietly slid away. Now the man that sat before Grisham was a tired one, one who’d seen too much in too little time and carried the weight of it all.
“Lysandre really fucked both of us over, huh?”
“To a lesser degree for you, maybe.” Grisham managed, “But… maybe. He did. He ruined a lot of lives.”
“And left both of us to clean up his mess.” Corbeau smiled, a bitter smile, “Wasn’t all bad though, we had some good memories of him, didn’t we? You more than me.”
“Here and there.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Don’t you already know?”
“Grish put aside the Rust Syndicate for a moment, I’m asking as a…” Corbeau didn’t want to say friend, that’s not what they were, they hadn’t been friends for a long time, “I’m asking you as myself. How are you doing, really?”
Grisham inhaled and exhaled immediately, leaning forward and removing his glasses to rub his hands over his face, looping his fingers around his neck.
What could he say?
Corbeau sat forward, pouring tea into a cup and sliding it towards Grisham. Patiently waiting for him to find the right words to string together.
“I don’t think I’m doing enough.” Grisham finally admitted, releasing his hands from his neck and moving to clean his glasses, avoiding eye contact with Corbeau, “Not for myself, not for the people who need me.”
“You always did have a bleeding heart.” Corbeau sat back, “You can ask me for help. I could cover the financial costs of your business for a time-”
“And tie Flare Nouveau to the Rust Syndicate? No, thank you.” Grisham was quick to shut him down, “We’re trying to be better than we were, tying us to the Rust Syndicate wouldn’t be good for either organization.”
“Mm, stubborn as ever.” The smile returned to Corbeau’s face, bittersweet and momentary, “I wouldn’t tie all of Flare Nouveau to me, just you. But I see your point. You want to do this the right way, and that’s admirable.”
“I feel like I’m drowning, Corbeau.”
“Because you are. When’s the last time you did anything for yourself, Grish?”
Grisham couldn’t answer him. When was the last time he’d done anything for himself?
Corbeau sighed at the non-answer.
“You know what the difference between us is, Grisham? I don’t care how people view me, I know what I’m doing and what I want, and I won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to get that. But you… You care so much about how people view you; you always have. You believe that you still have to earn your place in this world.”
Grisham bit the inside of his cheek, exhaling and finally taking the tea offered to him. The aroma greeted him like an old friend, the same quality served at Lysandre Cafe in its golden days; he didn’t expect anything less of Corbeau.
“You have a place in this world, whether or not you feel like you’ve earned it doesn’t matter.” Corbeau’s words were soft, borderline kind. Much was left unsaid.
“You might be right, Beau.” The nickname felt foreign coming from him; it’d been years since he’d last used it, “I should be better than this.”
“Don’t shame yourself into submission; be better for yourself first.”
Grisham cracked a smile, “I’ll work on that.”
“You better.” Corbeau studied him for a moment, “I’ll say this once. You were one of the better things to come out of Team Flare. And I hope you prove me right. I want you to.”
Silence settled between them; the tension lessened. Neither man looked at the other like they were an obstacle to be conquered; they looked at one another with a silent understanding and an ease in their estrangement.
“Now you’ve gotten me all sentimental.” Corbeau huffed with a weakly feigned annoyance, “You owe me a stellar battle. Go, get some rest. And you better come back tomorrow ready to give it your all, don’t make me collect you.”
---
Would you like to stop in for a little bit?
Why did you ask him that? Out of all people, why Grisham? And the look he gave you… You pulled the pillow over your head and sighed, tossing it to the side. It wasn’t worth thinking about it now; maybe if you saw him today, you could apologize for overstepping and leave it in the past.
But even still- how else could it have come off?
You wouldn’t lie to yourself; it had been some time since you’d shared a bed with another. But with Grisham? No. No, that was entirely wrong. And definitely would not be good for either of you.
You got up, finding your apartment to be far too small a cage, and set about getting dressed for the day. You’d find Grisham, and you would apologize.
---
Grisham had stuck to his word and went home; his text to Griselle had been met with a frantic call as he was just starting to prepare himself a tea. Corbeau had given him a particular blend to help with sleep. A favor with strings attached and an apology for lost time.
“What do you mean you’re staying home? Are you okay? Corbeau didn’t do anything to you, did he- I swear if-“
“We just rescheduled, I’m just..” Grisham searched and failed to find a convenient lie, “I’m exhausted.”
“Well.. yeah.” Griselle softened, sighing, “Sure, alright… Get some rest, Grish. I’ll hold down the truck here- oh. Also, that woman came by again today.”
Grisham perked up. Was she referring to you?
“She said she wanted to talk to you. What’s going on between you two?”
“Just talking.” Grisham shrugged, the electric kettle going off at the perfect temperature for an herbal blend. He moved to pour the hot water into his mug of choice, the scent of lavender and chamomile greeting him, underlined by an unfamiliar and delicate fragrance, one easily missed if not for the fact that Grisham knew Corbeau had put just a tiny amount of his Roserade’s sleep pollen in this blend. He could see the tiny flecks of it now in the tea, which was becoming an attractive lavender hue.
“Oh, just talking. Yeah, you said that about the last one. What was his name, Michael? Marcel?”
“Marco.” Grisham gently corrected, “That was just a one-time thing. And purely physical. No, what she and I have is just conversation. I promise.”
He knew what you had was more than just simple conversation, and he knew full well that he looked for you throughout the day. He hoped you would show up to the truck, an awkward smile on your face and tension in your shoulders that would ease when he greeted you. You looked better with each passing day, and Grisham hoped–wanted to be part of that.
You were getting better. Grisham wanted you to be better than him. No. He needed you to be better than him.
“Hm.” Griselle didn’t sound convinced, “I don’t need to be the one telling you that whatever you think is happening isn’t a good idea. She tried to kill you.”
“Griselle, we talked about this… Thank you for your concern, but I know how to handle myself.” He withdrew the sachet of tea from the mug, placing it on a small dish in case he needed a second cup. “Anything else you need to remind me of, or can I let you get back to the truck?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Noted.”
“Get some rest.”
“I will.” Grisham smiled, closing out the call with Griselle and letting his expression linger, each second becoming more and more exhausting as everything came crashing against him. He white-knuckled his mug of tea, willing himself not to shake as he brought it to his lips and took a slow sip, not minding at all when the tea scalded his tongue. It was bitter anyway; no amount of honey would sweeten it. Though the lavender softened the flavor somewhat.
His thoughts drifted back to earlier.
A peaceful life. Hm. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Of course, there was guilt that ate at him now. You’d wished him that, not knowing that he was hiding a dangerous truth from you. You wished him that, knowing his affiliation with Team Flare. You wished him that with a gentle smile and the memory of your sister, a simple comfort.
If he failed now…
No, he couldn’t afford to.
---
The sounds of the bar, though a relaxed leisure, were distant to you as you sat at the end of the counter, nursing another drink with Zorua seated under your chair. A coworker had insisted on taking you out after work, and you’d agreed. Said coworker had left over an hour ago, and you hadn’t gone home with them. Maybe it was a good idea that you didn’t.
Guilt was a hell of a drug; mix that with unchecked grief and depression, and it made social missteps feel much worse than they were. You’d invited Grisham into your apartment for companionship, and he turned you down. It didn’t matter that the kind of companionship that you sought was simply being in a room with another person; there was a spark of something else there, some physical desire to feel less alone in many ways.
It was just a mistake, an unintentional implication. One that you were hopelessly fixated on and spiraling around, swirling the thought in your head like the half-melted ice cube in your empty glass.
“Hey Germain, another round over here.”
The empty stool next to yours became occupied, and you glanced over the rim of your glass, surprised to find that Griselle had taken the spot next to you. It was the first time you’d seen her outside of her cafe uniform. She looked nice, actually. Casual in her leather jacket and jeans.
“You didn’t have to sit by me.” You started, noting that your empty glass was replaced with another of the same drink.
“I wanted to.” Griselle shrugged, “Besides, nowhere else to sit in this bar.”
She motioned, and your eyes followed. She was right, though the air inside the bar was casual and low, it’d filled up without you realizing it.
“So, what are we drinking to tonight?” The expression on her face was easy, maybe a little more comfortable with you than she’d been earlier in the day.
Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Did you tell her? No, probably not a good idea to, but what could you say in place of the truth?
“To something better, I guess.”
“To something- hm. Yeah. That’s not a bad thing to drink to.”
“And you?” You tilted your head, your hand wrapping around your fresh drink.
“To what could’ve been.” She sighed, intentionally dramatic, you saw just a little bit of Grisham reflected in the moment, “I got stood up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh, figured she wouldn’t have shown up anyway, but can’t help but give it a shot.” Griselle turned her cherry whiskey in her hand.
“Oh- I didn’t realize you-“
Her eyes flicked over to you, studying you with an unreadable expression.
“Not something I exactly advertise to customers while I’m working.” Griselle shrugged, “Don’t worry, you’re not my type. You're more Grish’s type than anything; maybe that’s why he cares so much. You’re like… a sad, wet lillipup.”
“Thanks.” You rolled your eyes, taking the insult in stride and ignoring the skip in your heart, “That’s me: a sad, wet lillipup.”
“Not without reason, but, y’know. Just thought you should know that you’re not the first stray Grishams picked up off the street.”
“I’d hardly say he picked me off the street. It was more… I stalked him?”
“And he saw something worth fighting for in you.” Griselle sighed, taking a long drink, “I guess he was right, maybe. You’re not all bad. You could have easily just wiped your hands clean of us like everyone else.”
“You’re not bad yourself.”
“I know that.” She said it almost defensively, and you took a sip of your drink, the alcohol burn watered down by ice and syrups.
“What do you think he sees in me, though?”
“Fuck if I know, Grisham’s… a big old bleeding heart. And he can be really stupid with it, too.”
“Mm. Probably.” You supposed you were the same, in your own way, “There’s something nice about it though. Continuing to be good when the world is shitty.”
“Yeah, well, what other choice is there? You either continue to choose to be good, or you become like everyone else.”
“That’s a… refreshingly optimistic view.” You leaned forward, bracing yourself on the bar counter with one of your elbows.
“It’s all about intentionality. Good people are capable of hurting others, no matter how good they say they are, and supposedly bad people are capable of doing good things. It’s not balanced, and it makes no sense- and honestly. Most people don’t even consider if their actions are good or not; they just act.”
“Do you think about if your actions are good or not?” You tilted your head into your hand, and your other hand played with the straw in your drink.
“Fuck no, I don’t. I just want to move on with my life and live.” She took another sip of her drink, “I am my own person, and the rest of the world is going to have to deal with that.”
A pause settled between the two of you, one broken by Griselle setting her drink down and motioning for a pair of shots.
“Alright, you and I are drinking until we stop thinking about this. There’s stuff worth living for, we’re working for a better tomorrow, so on, and so forth.” It was a script she’d memorized, probably having heard it a thousand times over, “But tonight it's just you and me, and we’re gonna drink and have a good time, alright? No more depressing stuff, let’s just let loose.”
You smiled when Griselle pressed her shoulder against yours. It was a nice feeling, feeling as if you’d been given permission to have fun, a reward for all the introspection and hard healing you’d been working on since you’d left Lysandre Cafe all those weeks ago.
And who cared if you couldn’t walk straight after? This was just a bit of fun.
---
You awoke to the feeling of Zorua pressing his wet nose to your cheek and the sound of his breath in your ear… and the smell of coffee and an unfamiliar home greeted you. You sat up, immediately regretting the decision as your vision swam and pain shot through your head.
You were hung over, how much did you drink last night? What time was it? Where even were you- the couch was far too comfortable to be your own.
“You’re awake. Coffee?”
You sought the voice and found Grisham, half turned towards you, dressed in sweatpants and a plain tee, a Kalosian press in one hand and a mug in the other. No. Your eyes flew down to your clothes, to your spot on the couch, to-
“You and Selle came back late last night. Those are her clothes.” He was answering questions you hadn’t asked yet, his gaze not meeting yours, “With cream.”
He offered the coffee to you, and you hesitantly took it. The aroma was familiar; it was the same blend that was used at Cafe Nouveau. A tentative sip had you relaxing with a sigh into the deep, full-bodied roast. Zorua wriggled onto your lap, settling quickly and watching Grisham with interest as the man moved around his apartment with a quiet and easy grace. He was making a simple breakfast, something light and agreeable for a hangover. While the bread toasted, you watched him duck off to one of the rooms, and Griselle was slowly coaxed out into the living room.
Grisham sat her down, handing her another mug of coffee and rolling his eyes when she mumbled something half-coherent. You had the feeling that he was used to this routine, the way he moved to take care of Griselle, and the way she reacted was a seemingly natural behavior. You bit back the smile that tugged at your lips, hiding your expression behind the coffee mug as you watched the two of them exist.
“Oh, you’re here.” Griselle finally acknowledged you halfway through her coffee, blinking as she made out Zorua in your lap, “Didn’t you have a Sylveon?”
“Sylvie is at home.” You nodded, “Zorua was with me last night.”
“Could have sworn...” Griselle screwed her eyes shut as a painful wave washed over her. She was just as badly hungover as you were. “Alright, we are not drinking like that again.”
“Eat. You’ll feel better.” Grisham set a plate down in front of her and another similar plate in front of you, eyeing up Zorua, “I also have something for you, little one.”
Zorua left your lap, excitedly racing around Grisham’s legs as he moved back towards the kitchenette. There, a small bowl of Pecha berries was carefully placed on the ground. You quietly marveled at how comfortable Zorua seemed around Grisham; normally, he practically clung to you like your own shadow.
Breakfast was a quiet affair on what appeared to be a rare day off for both Grisham and Griselle, and once Griselle had a little more energy to her, she went off to shower, and you dressed awkwardly in her room. Griselle’s room was surprisingly cozy; she had a bed of plush blankets and tousled pillows and an eclectic selection of furniture. There was personality to it in the handmade decorations and half-finished crochet projects; you never took Griselle to be the kind of woman who enjoyed crafting, but there the evidence was.
You felt like you learned about a whole other side of Griselle, but then realized that that side had always been there. You just hadn’t cared to consider it before. You quickly finished getting dressed, fully intent on putting as much distance between you and the apartment as possible. It was all kinds of wrong that you were there in the first place, let alone there as a hungover guest.
But despite your self-proclaimed trespassing, it would be rude not to thank Grisham and Griselle for letting you stay the night.
In the time you had taken to get dressed, Grisham had done the dishes and appeared to be making a grocery list of sorts. You quietly folded the blanket you’d been given, leaving it neatly on the couch with the pillow you’d been lent atop it.
“Thank you for letting me stay.” You spoke, breaking the tense and awkward silence between you.
“Seemed better than sending you home alone. How are you feeling?”
“A little better, it’s still too bright out.” It was overcast, thank Arceus for that, but even still, it was bright.
“Mm. Your shoes and coat are by the door.” Grisham set his pen down, “I’ll see you out, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” You found your shoes and coat exactly where Grisham said they’d be. Your shoes went on first, and when you stood upright to grab your coat, you paused.
There was a framed photograph by the door, right above the coat hooks. Taken with a digital camera of sorts, the image was warm with an almost nostalgic fuzz to it. It wasn’t the age of the photograph that caught your eye; no, it was the cluster of people that was the subject that caused you to pause.
Two sets of Team Flare agents stood in their neatly pressed and finely tailored red uniforms; between them were two children. A boy and a girl, both carrying themselves with a dignified weight that was ill-fitting in light of their youth. Next to the boy was a Charmander, and on the girl’s shoulder was a Fletchling. There was not a smile in sight, no warmth to what might have been a family unit. The whole photo felt carefully staged, rigid. Curated. Not a family unit, but an archival record, mere proof of existence.
What made you pull your eyes away from the photo was that you could see Geosenge’s once iconic standing stones in the background. The very ones you’d put your hands on dozens of times before, steadying yourself while leaving colorful chalky prints in your wake.
“Our parents.” Grisham answered another question you hadn’t asked, “Griselle and I have gone back and forth about burning this photo, but it’s the only one we have of them. It used to hurt, but now we use it to remind ourselves of the kind of people we don’t want to be.”
You swallowed hard, putting on your coat and shoving your shaking hands into your pockets while Zorua sat between you and Grisham. You turned your attention to Grisham, trying to decipher the unreadable expression on his face. Distant, remorseful, and maybe there was a bit of disdain and resentment in his eyes.
“Were you-“ your voice cracked from misuse, you cleared your throat and tried again, “Were you at all close?”
“Not at all. I think I have my father’s eyes, but I hardly knew them.” Grisham looked away, making sure his shoes were on properly, “Were you close to your…”
“Yeah.”
“Right.” Grisham looked away from you, “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine.” You shrugged, “I should get-”
“Right, yeah, let me see you out.” He reached for his keys and paused, “You asked if it would bring me peace to see my wish fulfilled…”
“I did.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that, but…” Grisham smiled, maybe a genuine one, small on his lips but reflected in his eyes, “I think it might give me the chance to, so I’m going to make sure I win.”
Somehow, it didn’t feel reassuring to hear that. You felt a chill race down your spine.
“And if you don’t..?” You tried, your voice small, tentative, testing. Your eyes studied his expression.
“Then I keep trying,” Grisham answered coolly, his eyes trained fully ahead. You found no comfort there.
“Of course, yeah. Of course…” You turned your attention back down to Zorua, who had placed his front paws on your shin, asking you to take him into your arms. You scooped him up, letting him nuzzle your face with his, “I hope it works out for you, I really do.”
The hallway outside of his apartment consisted of dull walls and faded carpet, smelling faintly of stale cigarette smoke and carpet cleaner. You walked with Grisham down to the end of the hall and to the rickety elevator. The silence between you was tense as you searched for a way to ease it.
You failed to find anything.
---
Grisham watched you go, unable to shake his memory of you stumbling into his apartment last night, arms locked with Griselle and laughing up a storm. Like the two of you had suddenly become the best of friends overnight. He might have been upset at having his sleep interrupted, especially to have it interrupted and then to have to handle an incredibly drunk Griselle.
He should have been upset, but there you were—happy with Griselle. He’d never seen you genuinely smile before, and it’d been too long since he’d seen Griselle as unguarded as she had been, and it sat with him.
If he succeeded, he might be able to make both of you smile more, he’d shoulder your worries and save you from seeing Geosenge happen all over again, he’d give a better life to Flare Nouveau, a better life to Griselle.
His phone buzzed, another text from Corbeau.
>I have an hour, be here in ten.
He tucked his phone back into his pocket and turned back towards his apartment. He’d already grabbed his team and his coat. Grisham squared his shoulders and took a deep, steadying breath, determination setting in upon his face.
Written to: Rust & The Long Night (Violet Evergarden), Sanctuary of Surasthana (Genshin Impact), Copied City (NieR: Automata, instrumental), The Ultimate Weapon (NieR: Replicant, vocals only).
You sat there as the short rainstorm slowed to a stop. You had read the letter many times, the sun had set, your tea had long over-steeped and grown cold. You mulled the words over in your mind, letting them sink in. Memorizing them and their intentions.
I don’t expect your forgiveness, and I know that even asking for it is another overstep.
Another overstep, as if your entire acquaintance wasn’t an overstep… It was… wasn’t it? You tried to kill him, you took him to the hospital, you apologized, you stuck around and opened up. You overstepped so many times, and you supposed maybe he also overstepped.
He had. You knew he had, but it wasn’t like it was an overstep that you weren’t into.
You thought about it sometimes. What would have happened if you’d gone through with it, if you would have regretted it after in the same way you regretted it when it was only his hands on your belt? You thought about how nice it could have been, if it might have led to something more. If he might have sought you out more in that way, if you might have sought him out in that same way. If there might’ve been mutual comfort there.
You weren’t ready for a relationship, and Grisham had openly admitted in his letter that neither was he. At least. Not in that way. Not with you.
I should have never taken advantage of your kindness.
Kindness. You weren’t sure if he meant anything more by that. Kindness. You were just doing what he showed you. But maybe it was kind, or maybe you were still trying to make up for what you almost did to him.
You started to inspire me to live, you gave me hope for a kinder future. Even if I’ve done precious little to be deserving of such. And that was your greatest kindness.
He’d done the same for you; did you ever tell him that? Did Grisham know he had been kind to you in a way that wasn’t pitying, or expecting, or viewed as a favor to you? Was he aware of his own light guiding you out of the dark you’d comforted yourself in, or did he not value his actions the way that you had?
You had blank paper in front of you and the intention of writing your own response. You picked up your pen.
And words failed you.
---
Grisham was being kind. No. Merciful.
Telling the truth, no, giving AZ’s champion a chance to know the full truth was a mercy. It would have been kind for him to tell you this, a kindness to show you just what was lurking beneath Lumiose, the danger that cast its long shadow, the monster that had started it all, still living and breathing and left in charge of determining who was worthy enough. It would have been kind if it were you. But this champion wasn’t you, so this was mercy. And maybe there was a touch of anger to it. An old flame that sparked in him the moment he was face-to-face with this champion.
He would never let someone else be blindly indoctrinated like he was. Grisham was getting tired of seeing himself in others.
He’d said his piece; now he watched as AZ’s champion descended into the defunct lab, the shadows enveloping that ugly team logo on the back of their jacket until Grisham could no longer see them. He let go of the tense breath he’d been holding, but didn’t allow himself to relax. Not yet.
Griselle said nothing, her gaze trained far away from the hidden entrance, her fingers fretting the ties on her apron. Grisham reached over, taking her hand in his and offering a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m here.” He muttered, waiting until Griselle squeezed his hand back before he let go. Even then, he held her hand for just a moment longer, grounding himself with her presence. His hand fell back to his side, and his eyes traced the new crack in the tile. If he’d been kinder…
The strained silence was broken by the sound of the bell above the door ringing. For a brief moment, Grisham looked up with hopeful eyes- and his expression immediately fell. He knew that face. Once proud, once blazing with the steadfast flames of determination, with eyes that once shone brighter than the sun on a calm ocean. Now a pale imitation, a shadow of a great man. Once someone who walked with untold conviction, now reduced to careful, tentative steps and a plaintive expression.
Lysandre stood at the entrance, a meagerly surprised expression lighting briefly on his face before unfamiliarity slid back over it. Grisham could see himself reflected in Lysandre’s remaining eye, but there was no recognition there from Lysandre. No hint of pride or disappointment, just a sense of uncanny obligation. Grisham couldn’t move; his knees felt weak, his legs heavy, his fingers like wood. His eyes burned, his heart twisted in his chest, ice cold and pained. Standing at Lysandre’s feet, as if guiding him along on a string, was Zygarde. It did not regard Grisham or Griselle, its snout pointed ahead as it padded across the room towards the doorway, pausing to turn back to Lysandre.
He watched as Lysandre silently surveyed the cafe before opening his mouth to speak. It was his voice, but not his inflection that came out, not his refined cadence or the deep-set rumble that crackled like firewood. What came out was Lysandre’s voice, but softer, more intentionally chosen. As if given a voice for the first time, and unsure what to do with it.
“They’re down there already, aren’t they?” He asked it without direction, leaving Grisham fumbling to find his voice.
“Yes.” Grisham had to bite his tongue not to add a sir at the end. The habit was still there. He glanced over to Griselle, pale-faced, wide-eyed. Grisham took a breath, squaring his shoulders, “Yes, they are.”
Lysandre pondered Grisham’s response for longer than he needed to.
“Then I will follow them.”
Grisham almost wanted to stop him. Every muscle in his body was straining in that direction to stop the man who had ruined countless lives and had the potential of ruining more. He wouldn’t stand by and watch again.
“I can’t-” Grisham choked out, taking a half step forward and stopping. Lysandre looked at him again; lightless woe haunted the expression on his face, and in it was a faint, dying ember of recognition.
“Have we met before?”
All the fire in Grisham went out at that moment. He wasn’t the Lysandre that Grisham knew. Not the Lysandre that Grisham needed him to be. His hands unclenched and hung loose at his side, dejected and utterly devoid of purpose.
“No. We haven’t.” Grisham lied, “I just wanted to say you should watch your step on your way down.”
Lysandre regarded him with an unreadable expression, then turned and crossed the room towards the hidden entrance. He paused just before he crossed that threshold, standing straighter and examining the cafe one last time. For a moment, his shoulders settled into something distantly familiar.
“I remember this place used to be a place of warmth.”
Grisham said nothing, and Lysandre disappeared down into the dark. He looked to the ceiling; he wouldn’t let himself cry. There was nothing to cry about; he’d done his mourning.
Instead, what he would do was put an end to all of this.
No matter the cost, Grisham would put an end to this.
“He didn’t even recognize us.” Griselle’s voice was thin, spoken to the air, “After everything he did to us he didn’t even-”
“No, he didn’t.”
No matter the cost, Grisham would put an end to this.
He understood you more now. He found comfort in that.
---
Dear Grisham,
I got your letter and I
-
Dear Grisham,
When we first met, I was wrong about you. You know this why am I-
-
Grisham,
I shouldn’t have left.
-
Grisham,
The empty fourth attempt of your letter stared back at you, tracing his name as if it would hold all the answers, imagining him reading your letter the way you had. Would he also read it at the kitchen table? Or would he read it in the lamplight of Lysandre Cafe? Or even in the mailroom of his apartment building, carefully opened the same way he’d so carefully written and folded the letter he sent you? Would he cry as you had? Your pen hovered over the page, waiting for you to start writing as you strung together sentences that felt wrong, or too awkward or too disjointed in their thoughts.
You couldn’t figure out the right words to say; each time you thought you neared something acceptable, you’d immediately find something wrong with it, or find yourself unable to figure out what to say after. But you would figure it out in the time it took your Drifblim to fly from Geosenge to Shalour City, in the time it took for the last train of the night to get from Shalour to Lumiose, in the time it took for you to get from the station to Lysandre cafe, because where else would you find him that time of night if he wasn’t in a battle zone?
And if he wasn’t in Lysandre cafe, you would wait for him there. He was bound to drop by in the morning for supplies. And it would give you time to figure out exactly what you wanted to say.
Sylvie circled you as you moved through the house, calm and decisive in packing an overnight bag, in gathering your team, in reaching for your jacket, and putting your shoes on. You ran your checklist, making sure that you turned off all the lights, closed all the curtains, and locked all the doors. At first, she was curious, sniffing at the overnight bag when you set it on the floor. Then excited, following you from room to room, as if knowing where you were returning to and what you were returning to do.
You didn’t forget his letter. You folded it carefully, just as he had, tucking it into the envelope it’d been sent in. Pausing before moving on, your gaze having fallen on the box that sat alone on the table. Your keystone bracelet was inside it, you hadn’t spared it a glance before, but now…
You took it with you.
No turning back now.
Your Drifblim carried you diligently, carefully, and you watched your childhood home become smaller the higher you ascended. Drifblim wouldn’t go too high, just enough to catch a good wind. Anxiety fluttered in your chest, asking you if you were making the right choice. You tempered it with responsibility. You owed it to Grisham to face him directly. You owed it to yourself.
---
Grisham stood staring into the shadows of the stairwell leading down to Lysandre labs. He knew he should close the door, and the temptation to close it and walk away entirely, in the same way that you had, was practically whispering in his ear.
He lost.
But that trainer had looked at him with surprising weight, surprising responsibility. They’d looked at him with firm and honest determination and promised they’d find a way to fix things. That they were on the side of Lumiose, not AZ, not Flare Nouveau or Quasartico. Lumiose.
And Grisham felt a weight slide off his shoulders, clarity reaching him for the first time in months.
That trainer had looked at him like you had looked at him, just without the familiarity of a shared grief. The hopes of a city placed upon their shoulders, willing and now fully knowing. And still unswayed from their path.
The desperation in Grisham faltered. And the unfamiliarity of relief eased an exhale from him that he’d been holding from the moment he started Flare Nouveau. He was free. The responsibility to protect Lumiose from AZ and Team Flare’s legacy had been taken from him, no. Not taken. Earned.
But now, where did that leave him?
“Grish.” Griselle’s usual firmness was softened by familiarity and exhaustion. Her hand found his shoulder and held him, the same way she had all those years ago, “Let’s go home.”
Home felt like the right thing.
“We can drop by that take-out place you like.” Griselle added, and Grisham managed an easy smile, his shoulders dropping.
“My treat.” He promised.
He had a new life to build. One hopefully, unshackled by the weight of his expectations.
---
The train to Lumiose could not have been quicker, nor could it have been quieter. Hardly anyone was traveling at this time of night, and you practically had the entire car to yourself. The ride felt shorter than when you’d left Lumiose, and you’d departed from the station knowing exactly which direction you needed to go.
It felt… You weren’t able to pinpoint a singular emotion. Maybe you were moved purely by determination, maybe it was regret, maybe it was a desire for clarity and closure. You still didn’t know what you would say, but you had a better idea than when you’d left Geosenge.
The light was still on in Lysandre cafe, the dim and tiny lantern on the counter where it always was. You almost didn’t notice the scorch marks on the ground, or the scent of ozone that lingered after a mega evolution. But when you did, it sent you on edge, slowing your stride to a near halt. Uncertainty weighed your moves, and a familiar dread was starting to claw at your senses. It was like seeing Lysandre cafe for the first time all over again.
No. You were not going to do this to yourself.
You took a breath and opened the door.
Was there always an opening there? A doorway you hadn’t noticed before was open along the back wall of the cafe, stairs leading down from it. You could see footsteps in the dust leading up to it and coming back out. Someone had been there recently.
You bristled as a chill swept through you; you knew you had found something you shouldn’t have.
But Grisham had said in his letter that there were things he should have told you from the start. Was this part of it? You took a step towards the stairs and paused. Did he even know you were here? Did anyone?
You’d leave a note, that’s what you would do. A note telling him you were back in Lumiose, that you wanted to talk. Then you’d go and find yourself a hotel to stay in for the night.
You turned towards the counter, looking for anything to write on, and paused again. A flashy, if a bit faded, red key card sat there. You’d never seen it before, but the faded, screen-printed logo was all too familiar to you. And the all too familiar sense of obligation washed over you when you found your hand reaching for the old Team Flare keycard.
Just a quick check, maybe it was just an extra storage space that Grisham was using for the trucks. You knew it wasn’t.
---
Grisham was curled up on the couch with his and Griselle’s Pyroars lounging around them, takeout on the coffee table, and a satirical documentary about Sinnoh’s three lakes that Griselle had put on for entertainment.
They didn’t say much, but it was becoming a comfortable silence.
The weight hadn’t returned to Grisham’s shoulders, and its absence was starting to feel uncomfortable. It didn’t feel right that his mission ended there, that he should so easily have handed the reins over to a stranger, nonetheless.
He’d placed his trust elsewhere, and maybe it was for the best. Maybe not.
“I think I’m going to go for a walk.” Grisham stood, collecting his takeout to put away, “Need anything while I’m out?”
Griselle looked up from her crocheting; he could practically hear her repeating the stitch count in her head. It looked like a little Zorua.
“I’m fine for now. Do you want me to join you?” She looked at him curiously, as if trying to gauge where Grisham was.
“I’ll be fine, I think I just need the fresh air.” Grisham moved towards the door. He hadn’t even gotten out of uniform yet.
“Well, I forgot something at the truck, so we might as well go together.”
Grisham smiled; it looked like the doll she was making would be another unfinished project. He waited for her.
“What could you have possibly forgotten?” He tilted his head, amused.
“Oh, you know.” She waved him off, earning a more casual ease to Grisham. Any excuse would have worked in the end; he was glad not to be alone.
---
The stairs were shorter than you were expecting.
You stood in the ruins of what appeared to be a lab, the dull tile on the floor stained and peeling. The remains of servers were strewn across the ground, some swept neatly to the side. You knew exactly where you stood without needing to confirm it. This was one of Team Flare’s secret labs, maybe the main one, given where it was located. It set your hair on end, knowing that this was lurking just below street level. And not only did it lurk, but it remained powered. Lit by backup generators despite the disrepair and ruin. Seemingly untouched until recently.
Your hand rested at your belt, your team nestled safely at your side. A simple comfort. You hesitated to let any of them out, unsure of what you would find if you continued any further. A chill raced up your spine, the feeling of being watched sent an electric buzz against your skin, and quickened your heartbeat.
You were trespassing, but obligation drove you forward.
It seemed like there hadn’t even been time to properly clear the lab out. You rounded a corner and found a stack of books atop a table, the covers thick with dust and pages claimed by dry rot. Left there haphazardly as if the researcher in charge of them had just stepped into another room. You strained to read the titles of the books through the rot, finding that they were documents describing experiments, findings from field samples, analysis of ancient theories about mega evolution… what was Team Flare doing researching mega evolution? Was that all they were researching here, or was this just one of several projects that were forgotten when the organization fell?
The lab was expansive, and you wondered silently how its construction was done without anyone knowing. How much did Lysandre’s reputation keep eyes away from Team Flare? It took an increasing amount of willpower to pull your eyes away from the rotted research; touching it probably wouldn’t be good for your health if it didn’t just crumble in your hands.
There was evidence of Pokémon throughout the lab, but for the moment, they seemed docile if not entirely withdrawn from your sight. Whoever came through earlier must have left quite the impression. Though it was strange, even frightened, you’d never seen a Pokémon this withdrawn.
Part of you told you that you should turn around and go back to the surface, that you should find a hotel and wait until morning. But you continued, rounding a corner and moving down a short hallway. There was a room at the end, the sliding metallic doors wide open. Beds were strewn about the room, some of them still perfectly made, untouched except for the layer of dust on them.
People lived here once.
Grisham lived here once.
Or at least, maybe he had. You knew he’d mentioned Lysandre Cafe as his home once, but now you wondered how deep that statement went. Was it just a passage, a temporary resting place, or was he more involved than he let on? Or were you overthinking again, jumping to the worst conclusion because it was the easiest one to make? Maybe it was just the cafe that had been his home, the community there, the people working in it. Maybe that’d been his home. Because this was certainly no place for a child to be raised.
Someone had scratched something into the wall, low enough that a bedframe would have hidden it entirely from sight. But now that bed had been pushed aside some time ago, revealing this well-kept secret to whoever might’ve chanced upon it.
Grisham, 8
Griselle, 7
To a future we saved
You almost smiled at it. An innocent message left in a place like this. A momentary hope. You traced their names slowly, memorizing the way they’d been carved into the wall. It was their home once. Or for long enough that it felt like home. You weren’t sure, but you knew it would be something that you would ask about in time.
You turned from the sleeping quarters, following this floor of the lab to the furthest reaches you could. And when you found your way blocked by rubble and locked doors, you became familiar with the functioning warp mats throughout the lab. With each step, you became increasingly aware of how liminal the lab felt. The air was musty at points, stale with dust at others, and where whoever had been in the lab before you had stepped, there was the ghost scent of their perfume lingering for far longer than it should.
And it was so silent, even beyond the lack of Pokémon that you knew lived there, you were only accompanied by the hum of electricity, the shifting of your clothing, the seemingly too loud taps of your footsteps down the abandoned hall. Even your heartbeat felt like a cacophonous trespass on a place you knew damn well you should have never set foot into.
Especially not when you saw the standing stone. Displayed in a thick paneled glass case, the top opened to the world as dead mechanical arms hung over it, hanging in their analysis as if they’d pick right back up once there was full power. You recognized it immediately, your blood running cold as your feet drew you closer. There was an open binder on the floor, with pages housed safely in clear plastic sleeves. You picked it up carefully, a handful of pages slipping out and scattering to the floor, but they seemed inconsequential.
It was one of the standing stones leading up to the ruins in Geosenge Town. Your eyes scanned the researcher’s sterile typed observations: These stones apparently behave in a mysterious manner, according to our findings, they emit an abundant life energy, but when the ultimate weapon is activated, that reverses. Upon activation, the stones then begin to absorb energy from Pokémon attached to them. This energy is then transferred to the ultimate weapon. Current findings suggest that the larger the stone, the more life energy that can be extracted from the attached Pokémon. It is unclear if such an ancient technology can also be applied to human life-
You had to stop reading. A foul taste settled at the back of your throat. The binder was set back on the floor, despite how much you wanted to burn it. Someone should have destroyed this place long ago. Grisham should have-
But it was his home once.
You took a deep, centering breath, blinking back the sting in your eyes. It seemed like you’d cleared this floor of the lab, but you knew there were more. That elevator you saw at the entrance had to lead somewhere.
---
Something didn’t feel right. Grisham knew it wasn’t his newfound sense of relief.
Lumiose was too quiet. The Fletchlings that normally had nests up the boulevard leading to Centrico Plaza were gone. It wasn’t the right time of year for their migration, and it was nearing midnight.
“So this is weird, right?” Griselle brought his attention to her, “We’re really just going to let them take care of everything?”
“They beat us both fair and square. Now we have to trust them.”
“It’s weird not knowing.” Griselle sighed, “I mean… We were kept out of a lot of things before, and then it was just you and I trying to figure everything out. And now we’ve just given that up?”
“As I said-”
“We have to trust them. I know. All I’m saying is that I hope this doesn’t blow up in our face again.”
They took a few more steps together in silence. Grisham couldn’t get past how quiet it was.
“Have you heard back from her yet?” She sounded hopeful, hesitant as it was.
“No, not yet. I don’t know if I will.” Grisham sighed, his eyes moving towards the rooftops, not even a Gastly in sight.
“Fuck it, what’s stopping us from going to Geosenge and talking to her there?” Griselle turned, “It’s what, two hours by train to Shalour City?”
“Aside from the fact we’ll likely be asked to leave the moment anyone figures out who we are-”
“We’ve been asked that plenty of times, and did that ever stop us?” She had a point.
Grisham ran the mental math; he’d have to either find someone to cover the truck or shut it down for a day or two. Then came the cost of travel, if they took the train or if he just had Charizard fly them close to Geosenge. And the expense of staying at a hotel, he never wanted to assume you would let him and Griselle crash at your place unannounced.
If you’d even see him again. He hoped you were well at the very least.
“Maybe. Let’s give it some more time.”
“Another week.”
“Another week.” Grisham nodded. He had to figure out something to do with his newfound freedom, making amends with you would be the top of his list.
---
Your head spun, trying desperately to grasp what you were seeing on the screen. You hadn’t intended to wander this deep, but you did. You didn’t expect the power to still be on, you didn’t expect the files to be left open, displayed upon the screen as they had been when you entered the server room. But they were.
And you read all of them, your eyes dragging painfully over densely scientific words. Plans made and their progress, the analysis of samples from your hometown, and the estimated casualties. An ancient weapon, slumbering beneath the home you’d grown up in, not placed there by Team Flare, but discovered. Uncovered. Restored.
You weren’t sure which was worse. That such a weapon had been created and forgotten, or that such a weapon had been used, knowing what it would do. Or maybe that the lesson hadn’t been learned the first time, that a second weapon was created a thousand years after the first by the very same hands.
As the world grows wealthier… When something cannot be shared, it will be fought over… Lead the world towards a more beautiful future.
This was never a place of honor.
Your eyes caught on a small window in the corner of the holoscreen, some sort of reading of some sort of energy. You couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but there was a massive spike in whatever it was measuring. You searched for a way to enlarge the window, your hands moving over an unfamiliar console until you found the control point. The panel blew up onto the holoscreen, giving you a full view.
It was an energy output reading for Ange- you moved to another document, one that detailed what Ange was. You moved back to the readings- Your heart raced in your chest, feeling as if it would burst out at any given moment- you’d seen these readings before. Attached to the readings pulled from Geosenge just before- Your breath caught in your throat, your stomach twisted. These readings were ongoing. The spike was recent- no, the spike in energy was happening at that moment. The work had never stopped; it'd just been monitored, maintained- stewarded.
Everything started to click. The rumored rogue mega evolutions, Quasartico’s search for a strong mega evolution user, and the increased wild zones. All of it tied back to this, but why wasn’t Ange already shut down? Why wasn’t it disassembled the moment the danger came to light? It wasn’t a living thing, it was a weapon, and the moment it was revealed that Team Flare had discovered it, it should have been taken care of- if. If it was ever revealed.
You hated the thought, but it was becoming more likely. It was very likely.
No, there was no way Grisham would do that. He wasn’t the kind of person who would risk sacrificing thousands of lives to restore the honor of a handful, to swoop in at the last minute and be a hero. It wasn’t fair to assume he would do that, but-
Could you really defend him after everything you’d seen here? The intentionality, the way things were just. Left open. The way you were able to walk through the facility unhindered.
No. You’d been down this path before, made one too many wrong conclusions, and almost killed someone. You weren’t that person anymore.
You needed to find him and get his side of the story.
The readings spiked further, rising higher by the minute. And the warning sirens and lights began to blare as you turned to leave. You barely made it out of the server room when the quake struck, a sudden rumble that turned into a roar as the walls and floor shook around you, sending you to your knees. You curled up upon yourself, unaware that one of your pokeballs had opened and that Chevalier stood over you, protecting you from any possible falling debris. You could hear glass shattering in the server room behind you, and the strain of the elevator you’d taken down as the backup lights flickered around you.
You didn’t want to die here. Not like this.
And just as soon as it’d started, it stopped. You laid still for minutes, waiting for another quake to hit, waiting for something to shift. But it seemed stable for now. You weren’t going to risk anything further, you got up, and leaning against Chevalier for stability, you made your way towards the elevator.
---
Grisham had felt the rumbling first, just a fraction of a second before Griselle felt it. Heard the first shuddering groan of metal as if it was straining against a strong wind. He grabbed Griselle, pulling her into a narrow alley moments before the scaffolding around the Prism Tower came crashing down. Grisham braced her against the wall, hard, earning a cut off “what the fuck-” as he braced against her, shielding her with his body.
The scaffolding shattered against the ground, leaving deep gouges in the pavement where it landed, pooling around the Prism Tower like a heavy cloak discarded. Grisham held his breath at what sounded like the end of the world, his embrace around Griselle tightening as he buried her head into his chest, hoping that they were safe, hoping he’d pulled them far enough into the alley to protect them, hoping that they were far enough away from the tower that scaffolding wouldn’t hit them.
A tense silence blanketed Lumiose as the power surged, then went out, plunging the city into darkness. There was a beat, and then the emergency power kicked in, the street lights that could work sputtering to life. Only when the lights came back on did Grisham finally release Griselle and step back, his heart hammering in his ears, his breath coming to him painfully. There was a sickly purple glow curling around the corner, and he knew it wasn’t from the street lights.
His ears rang. Griselle reached for his hand, squeezing it hard.
“The truck- we gotta get to the truck-” Griselle’s voice faded in, and she was already pulling Grisham along by the time he registered what she was saying. He had to get to the truck.
Grisham’s feet carried him, feeling lighter than air and unstable. He and Griselle exited the alleyway onto a boulevard, and his eyes instinctively moved towards the Prism Tower or… rather, at this point. Ange. Awakened and dressed in a dangerous glow, power whispering around it like a promise.
There was still time. There was still time; Grisham could stop this. He found comfort in that, and as he ducked around a pile of debris, he found comfort that you were gone. You were safe in Geosenge.
---
The fresh air hit you cold and hard as you tore your way out of Lysandre Cafe, your feet tangling with one another, bringing you into a heap on the ground, your palms scraping sharply against the pavement. You inhaled as if you’d been drowning underwater, shuddering gasps wracking through your body as now Sylvie was comforting you. Chevalier wasn’t far behind, already moving to comfort you in your panic.
You sat upright, catching your breath. What did you do now? What was your plan?
You stood with Chevalier’s help, leaning against your longtime partner, Pokémon, as Sylvie trilled at your feet, her ribbons hesitantly brushing you with concern. You moved on instinct, easing yourself out of the side street Lysandre Cafe occupied. The light caught your eye, once only a memory, but now so very real.
Prism Tower loomed over you, wreathed in energy that waxed and waned as if it were breathing. Ange awakened, gathering wayward energy, about to go rogue at any moment. Lumiose was painfully silent, as if still taking the time to register what had happened in its heart. Was this what it was like to be in Geosenge? You could feel Sylvie’s ribbons wrap tight around your leg, her body pushing into you, quaking with fear, the color practically drained from her coat. You crouched down, scooping her into your arms and burying her face in your neck as quickly as you could, routing your exit plan before the panic fully set in.
“Chevali-” You started to say, turning your head to your partner only to find him standing on guard, a leaf-blade already primed as you realized you weren’t alone. Standing in the middle of the street was a black and green Pokémon you did not recognize. It stared past Chevalier, its gaze landing on Sylvie in your arms. Your grip around her tightened, whether it was from your own fear or the desire to protect your only family, you weren’t sure.
Mere seconds later, as if only a few steps behind, a tall man stepped from the shadows of an alleyway. You knew who he was on sight; you’d long burned his face into your memory, but the way he carried himself was nothing like you’d imagined or seen from old footage of him. His hands cradled carefully around a small, light green blob, holding it with a silent reverence as if it were the heaviest burden one could shoulder.
Lysandre blinked at you.
“Chevalier.” You warned, your feet rooted into place, your skin bristling with an all too consuming fire. It took everything in you not to immediately lash out, the anger you thought you’d let go of coming right back to you. You wouldn’t let it control you this time; you were better this time, you were done with being angry. It changed nothing in the end.
You stood firm. Even though your hands would have been shaking if you weren’t holding Sylvie to you.
Lysandre said nothing, only turned his head as the Pokémon he followed seemed to call for him. Wordlessly, he began to leave. And you bit your tongue.
Nothing you could have done would have changed anything.
“You should get somewhere safe.” Your eyes steadied on Lysandre’s back; he hadn’t turned to address you, but his tone of voice had been clear. And there was no one else he could have been speaking to, “Somewhere off the street.”
Where could you go? You knew nothing was safe.
“I think I’m fine exactly where I am.” You managed, dragging your eyes from Lysandre to Chevalier. Lysandre seemed to silently consider your words, weighing them upon his shoulders.
“We all have our roles then.” Acceptance settled on his voice, distant and understanding, “Let us hope it will be enough.”
You’d make it enough; you wouldn’t let Lumiose become Geosenge. You watched Lysandre go; you could settle your grievances later. Right now, you needed to figure out what your plan was. And maybe getting close to the tower was a good start.
---
Grisham turned, making sure that Griselle was still behind him as she descended the ladder. The light from Ange was getting brighter now, and they were still nowhere near the truck. The collapsed scaffolding had created a barrier around Centrico Plaza, forcing the two of them to take side streets that were quickly becoming difficult to navigate. It was chaos now, people were trying to move to safety, and it felt like Grisham had to fight the tide to keep standing. The roofs were the easiest way to move around the city for the most part, but there was too much chaos in the skies as people fled or wild Pokémon began to frenzy. It was getting more hellish by the minute.
You were safe. You were in Geosenge. You were far from Lumiose. He wondered if you could see the light from there; he hoped you couldn’t. He hoped you were sleeping; he hoped you would stay put if you weren’t. You were safe, and Griselle was with him. He repeated this over and over: you were safe, Griselle was with him. You were safe. Griselle was with him.
An inhale, you were safe. A step. An exhale, Griselle was with him. Another step.
The truck was in sight. Just one more street.
The light shifted, and Grisham paused as Griselle closed the distance between them and the truck, his eyes moving instinctively towards the tower. The light was dimming, the energy that prickled across Grisham’s skin ebbing away slowly. AZ’s champion had seemingly succeeded; Grisham wasn’t needed. You were safe. Griselle was safe.
But he still held his breath, the mantra in his head pausing as he waited. A moment rolled by, then another. And then the first cracks started to appear across the surface of Prism Tower, flooded with a bright pink light, brighter than before. Searing painfully into Grisham’s vision, he looked away, but he couldn’t escape hearing the groan of metal as it was rendered asunder. The tower warped, growing, creaking into a shape that was both constructed and natural, distorted into something that breathed.
You were safe, you were safe, you were safe, you were-
“Grisham?” Your voice was barely heard over the sound of Ange truly awakening, but Grisham found you immediately. You stood just on the other side of the boulevard from him, Sylvie buried in your arms, her ribbons wrapped around your body tightly as you clung to her for dear life. Your expression was pale, haunted, your eyes wide and on the verge of tears. Your gaze turned from him to the tower, terror painted across your features as you looked back at him.
You were here. You were in Lumiose. He took a step towards you.
“Was this your wish?”
The ground split between you, and Grisham lost sight of you in the chaos.
Pyre - Chapter 9 - The Verge of Pyrrhic
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Tagging: @anotherpokemonfanaccount, @houndenny, @fruitteagoblin, @averysmolkirbo, @aki-i-guess
Word Count: 6.2k
Written to: Torn Apart at the Seams; Torment; Unspoken Words (Violet Evergarden), Prism Tower's Dark Turn; Battle against Hyperrogue Ange Floette (PLZA), Inevitable Conflict (Genshin Impact), Wretched Weaponry: Medium/Dynamic (NieR: Automata)
Was this your wish?
The words left your mouth before you could stop yourself, and the regret was an immediate gunshot. Grisham, who’d seemed so surprised, so frightened that you were there. Only to see his expression twist into a pained confusion, the light leaving his eyes as your words settled across his heart.
You didn’t get the chance to apologize. The street split apart, and the buildings around you crumbled. For a moment, everything went black.
You felt Chevalier gently place you on a patch of grass, Sylvie tumbling out of your lap as the rest of your team’s unease reached your ears. You blinked, head reeling, palms burning, knees becoming damp from the grass. Trevenant was behind you, supporting your back, and Chevalier’s hands slowly left your shoulders. Sylvie’s ribbons curled around your wrists, and Zorua was at your side, his paws on your thigh and his nose nudging you with wet concern. You looked around. Driftblim seemed to be keeping watch.
You looked to where you’d been just moments before. Chevalier had saved you. Your stomach flipped at the sight of the mangled piece of concrete embedded in the ground where you had been standing. If you had stayed where you were, you would have died.
You looked to the root-like tendril that had erupted from the street. It effectively cut you off from that side of the city, too high to climb on your own. And long enough that you’d have to go several blocks before you could even hope to see the end of it. You risked a look back at the tower- at Ange. She was a looming and distorted being of wrought iron and thick, dark roots.
What could you do against something like that? You’d only just found out about it. What could you do this time?
You could run.
As if having sensed the thought the moment it crossed your mind, Sylvie’s ribbons tightened around your wrists. You were done running. You took a deep, steadying breath, weighing your options and watching as the first wave of rogue mega evolutions burst across the city.
You gathered your strength and stood; your knees protested, but that would be a problem for later. You reached into your bag, the corner of the box finding you readily, as if welcoming you back. The keystone bracelet wasn’t as heavy as you thought it would be. The keystone itself stared back at you, already glittering with power. It felt new on you, the weight of it noticeable but not unwelcomed.
“Here’s the plan.” You breathed, your hand falling to your side, “We need to find Grisham and Griselle, they’re probably going to the tower. Whatever they’re planning on doing to stop this, we need to help them.”
Whether or not this was part of Grisham’s wish could wait.
---
Was this your wish?
It struck him hard. He knew you didn’t mean it; you were just scared. Of course you were, why wouldn’t you be? The very thing that killed your family was here, and Grisham had failed to protect you from it. Worse, he hadn’t even tried. He’d given the burden to another; if it had been him, it would have never- if it were him, you would have been safe.
Grisham understood your fear, but even still, it hurt.
He thought you knew him better.
Griselle called for him, panic rising in her voice. It didn’t matter what you thought of him; he’d let his actions speak for him.
With or without you, he’d help protect Lumiose.
---
You recalled all of your team but Drifblim; you’d move faster with fewer Pokémon out. With a nod, you settled into Drifblim’s grasp as your feet quickly left the ground. Now, with an aerial view, you could see that Lumiose was in shambles. Ange’s reach almost entirely overtook the city, blocking off main streets and spilling debris into the side streets. The center of the city was practically inaccessible by the street alone, and even the streets themselves were becoming flooded with rogue mega evolutions. You scanned the streets, trying to pick out Grisham or Griselle. If you could spot his Charizard- There! You found the truck, Charizard already standing guard, and Griselle’s Pyroar not too far away; the lights were on, warmth spilling onto the dark streets. If you could just get there- Your vision spun for a moment as Drifblim took an evasive maneuver, narrowly avoiding cutting winds that surely would have sent you to the ground. Your grip tightened as you braced yourself, inhaling a sharp breath and trying to locate what had just attacked you.
A Pidgeot! You caught its tail feathers as Drifblim took another evasive maneuver. This wasn’t good- you definitely didn’t have the advantage, and fighting while flying would be too dangerous for you and Driblim. You needed an exit, an open street, or a nearby rooftop-
“There!” You pointed, shifting your weight in the direction of a nearby rooftop. Drifblim’s descent was slow as he strained to maintain a firm grip on you; one direct hit could send you falling to the street below. Your foot neared the edge of the rooftop, hanging a hair's breadth away. You felt the very top of your shoe brush the edge. And a sharp gust of wind cut across your back, sending you and Drifblim tumbling forward.
You panicked, limbs flailing as you tried to throw yourself onto the rooftop. Your hands scrambled against the metal siding. If you screamed or cried out, you didn’t notice. Your body crashed onto solid ground, leaving you winded. Your eyes flew up, locating your Drifblim righting himself. The Pidgeot that had been menacing you was circling the rooftop you were on, eyeing you up as if it was waiting for the perfect opportunity to swoop in. You could practically feel its fear for yourself, a wild rampage of too much power with nowhere to go. Drifblim couldn’t do anything remotely effective against it, and already looked to be in rough shape. Placing your hands under you, you pushed yourself back onto your feet, the bracelet on your wrist glinting into the edge of your vision.
There wasn’t time to consider if it would be safe; your options were to fight or run. And you knew that you could only run so fast and so far from a Pidgeot, let alone one that had mega-evolved. You barely recalled Drifblim as the Pidgeot’s claws just grazed its side, your hand already reaching for Chevalier’s ball.
The moment Chevalier appeared, you already knew something was different; you felt more connected, more in sync than you’d ever been. As if a thread had been drawn between the two of you, linking you in heart and soul. Energy thrummed around your wrist, almost drawing your hand to level with the broach Chevalier wore. Light enveloped you, lacking warmth but surrounded like a burst of pressure. You felt the end of his cloak whisper against your cheek, and when the light cleared, your Chevalier stood with his back to you and arm raised in defense. Every bit the knight he was always meant to be.
He glanced back at you, giving you a trusting nod. You gave your first command.
---
Everything in the truck was in working order; the small generator that Grisham was using to power the coffee maker and espresso machines seemed to be unaffected by the power surge. He had originally only intended to make sure that the truck was still in one piece, parked where he’d left it on the edge of the Bleu District, but by the time he’d gotten to it with Griselle, other Cafe Nouveau employees had already gathered. Three trucks were parked around one another on the boulevard, and it seemed that an agreement had already been struck. The area was safe for the moment; despite its closeness to Ange, it was protected by a wall of debris.
Pride swelled in Grisham’s chest, dulling the sting that had settled there.
This was their chance. Grisham had been a spark, but the fire had been built by multiple hands. He saw that now, as the remnants of Team Flare converged and devised their plan. Tables were set up, medical equipment gathered together, coffee in the process of being brewed, and what remaining pastries there were being sourced and inventoried. He noted the lack of data from Lysandre Labs. What Grisham imagined would have been a plan of spreadsheets and battle strategies was instead… how to help comfort those trapped in the city. Where the wreckage was stable, where there were likely more people located, and who likely lost their homes.
There was a clear path forward for Grisham to take without worry. The others were fine, looking at Grisham as if they were surprised he was still lingering. He wasn’t fully sure what he was waiting on; everything was clear, the path lay before him, Griselle ready to offer her support, his team more than ready to take on whatever was ahead.
You weren’t there.
And it was a noticeable absence. Grisham found himself looking at the street he and Griselle had come from, hoping you would round that corner. He wanted to go back and look for you, to make sure you were alive, to make sure you could be somewhere safe, or that he could at least aid in your escape.
What were you even doing back in Lumiose?
There wasn’t time to ruminate; Grisham had work he needed to do. His rotomphone ringing pulled his eyes from the street to its screen. How Corbeau had gotten his number was the least of his worries.
“The city’s in a panic, and you finally pick up!”
Grisham let go of a breath he’d been holding as Corbeau’s voice reached him, though the man looked less than pleased, Grisham was relieved to see him for once.
“Glad to see you alive.” Grisham offered a rare smile, one that visibly relaxed Corbeau, “I assume you already have a plan?”
“Don’t I always?” Corbeau cocked a smile, but it fell quickly. “In all seriousness, we could really use you and Griselle out here. To make a long story short, Zygarde is testing the kid. We've made a route to the Magenta Sector for them, but there’ll be a long stretch where there’s no one to back them up. Think you and Griselle can get over there?”
Corbeau had sent him the route, marked with where the other high-ranking trainers would be. There was a long stretch towards the end where AZ’s champion would be alone- Grisham halted, wasn’t the champion up in the tower? He shook his head; now was not the time to be getting caught up in the details. Zygarde had made its choice, and everyone else had to abide by it.
“We’ll be there- listen, Corbeau. There’s something I need to ask of you.”
Maybe Corbeau had picked up the desperation in Grisham’s voice, or maybe it was the context of the situation, but his expression softened, “Ask me anything.”
“There’s someone I need you to keep an eye out for- she’s a trainer from Geosenge, she should have a Gallade with her, or a Sylveon. We were separated, not far from your building. Do you have anyone who could-”
“I’ll have the skeleton crew keep an eye out for her, but it’s all hands on deck, Grish. I can’t promise… I’ll do my best to find your friend.” His expression pulled taut, “Get a moving now, show this city just what Flare Nouveau is made of. We ‘nere-do-wells rarely get a chance like this to show what we’re capable of.”
“Be safe yourself, Beau.”
A boyish smirk flashed across Corbeau’s face, “So long as I have Scolipede with me, I’ll be fine. Always have been.”
The call ended, and as Grisham’s phone put itself away, he turned to Griselle. She’d overheard the call and was more than ready, already looking at the route on her own phone. There was a pause; her eyes landed on Grisham.
“She’ll be alright.” Griselle promised, “We’ll find her when this is over.”
---
You dropped to street level, Chevalier close behind you. It’d been a tough fight, but you had emerged victorious from it, making sure that the Pidgeot had fallen safely onto the rooftop before Chevalier KO’d it had been your priority. You had brought a small amount of supplies with you that would keep Chevalier up and going between battles, and now you ran the mental math, trying to figure out if you could manage making it over to Grisham.
The streets were barren now; you’d seen people clearing out to safer parts of the city. Some of them were directed by Quasartico officials, others by fellow trainers. Now, all that was left in the district were the rogue Pokémon and a handful of distinctly dressed office employees.
“Isn’t that- Hey! You!! Over here!”
One of them had caught sight of you and was motioning for you, calling his Arbok close as he closed in on you.
“Boss said to keep an eye out for you and yours!”
You blinked, boss? It couldn’t have been Grisham; you knew his co-workers, and the man who was approaching you wasn’t dressed like any of them.
“So- out with it. Are you okay? Do you need medical attention?”
You checked over yourself in that moment; you looked worse for wear. Your hands and knees were scraped up, one of your pants legs was already torn, and you didn’t want to know the state of your hair after the tumble your landing was. But it was surface-level scrapes, nothing that needed immediate attention.
“Fine. I’m fine. Tell your boss that.” You tried to brush the man off, turning to assess which direction you should take to get to the trucks. “Which is the fastest way to the plaza?”
“The plaza? Why would you want to go there!?”
“I’m looking for someone, and if I don’t find him then-”
“No, no! Boss says no one is to go near the plaza right now. Those Nouveau folk will tell you the same: you’re better off getting off the street.”
“Flare Nouveau is helping?” Hope lingered, blooming in your chest, maybe you'd been wrong.
“Got a whole station set up to support people- that’s not the point! Boss said to report in if we saw you-”
“Well, you saw me!” You decided your path, “Now step aside. I’m going to find my- my friend.”
“Look- lady- your friend is more than fine.” He wasn’t letting up. You took a deep breath, realizing what this might come to. Chevalier stepped next to you, already picking up what you were thinking, “Oh, come on! For crying out loud! The top trainers are already on it. What could you hope to give?”
What could you hope to give? Grisham was leagues ahead of you, Griselle too. But you’d already made your decision, you were going to find both of them. Between the three of you, there had to be something that you could do.
“Lumiose is my home, and I refuse to lose it again! If you aren’t going to step aside, then we’ll both be wasting our time!”
---
Griselle’s arms were wrapped tight around Grisham’s waist as Charizard carried them over the wreckage, ducking and diving tightly around hyperrogue Ange’s tendrils and the various frenzied Pokémon that clogged the sky. Her face was pressed against his back, trying to keep her glasses on and cover Grisham’s blind spots at the same time. Corbeau was sending him updates; he could feel the delivery of each update ping in the pocket his phone was nestled in.
While his eyes were dead set on finding a safe place to land, he chanced searching for you, scanning the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of your Gallade, whether or not you had mega-evolved him. They were just over Lysandre Cafe now, and he hadn’t caught sight of you yet.
“That’s a good landing spot!” Griselle motioned, “We’ve gotta get out of the sky, we’re open targets here.”
“Right!” Grisham pulled his eyes from the street, finding the landing spot Griselle had spotted and maneuvering Charizard towards it. The landing was smooth, and Grisham helped Griselle down first before dismounting, his head on a swivel.
Griselle was checking her phone; it seemed that Corbeau had made a group chat of the three of them.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Griselle gasped, turning her phone towards Grisham to show him an image that Corbeau had sent. His heart skipped a beat, feeling as if it had dropped in his chest.
It was you.
You were alive. Chevalier was with you. It looked like you were still in the Bleu sector.
Corbeau had sent a text with it:
>This your friend? >She made quick work of my skeleton crew- headed towards you.
You were headed towards him. You would find him. You always did. You had Chevalier with you. The worry eased slightly from Grisham’s heart; something was starting to tell him there was hope that things could still be stopped. There was an actual chance of winning this, of walking away, seeing the dawn rise, and knowing you would be there for it.
He steadied himself, a familiar calm sliding over him. Grisham had his mission, and now he had his conviction to follow it through. Both of his girls were safe. Griselle was with him. Chevalier was with you.
AZ’s champion had just reached Corbeau; it was only a matter of time before they’d be linking up with him and Griselle.
“Get ready, keep your eyes open.”
“I’m right here, just like always.” Griselle assured, “I’ll be with you to the end, you know.”
Grisham only nodded.
---
“What will you do now?” AZ’s champion turned to Grisham at a brief pause in the chaos. This time, Grisham was ready with his answer.
“I will never be able to outrun my connection with Team Flare. Nor can I change those who will never forgive Team Flare for what happened five years ago.” He thought of you. Had you forgiven him? “But what I can control is what I do next. I will protect the people of this city, no matter what they may think of me.”
It was noble, he knew it to be. He couldn’t leave his past, but he could at least still change his future. In that moment, Grisham realized he had forgiven himself.
He had to.
A call caught his attention; his eyes narrowed at the sight of Zygarde. Standing at attention, waiting to be acknowledged, waiting to acknowledge. Calm and impatient in equal measure, yet still the light in the storm. For a moment, Grisham wanted Zygarde to acknowledge him; it would solidify that he had done enough.
But Zygarde looked away; it did not acknowledge Grisham.
And Grisham realized he didn’t need it to acknowledge him. For once, he didn’t need it. Maybe that wasn’t the whole truth, but even if he was lying to himself, it was at least a comfortable lie that eased the sting of rejection.
Griselle’s head shot up; she didn’t need to reach out to Grisham to get his attention. They weren’t alone anymore, nearly surrounded by a colony of Pinsir.
“Looks like we’ve got more customers incoming. Not sure they’ll appreciate our blends though.” Her dry humor was reassuring, even as her hand moved towards her Fletchinder’s ball.
“Unlikely-” Grisham quipped back, straightening his glasses, “at least not while they’ve gone rogue like this. Let’s get them back to seeing reason.”
“We’ll cover this area for you.” He promised, taking a moment to bump fists with AZ’s champion, he could see them steel their resolve, knowing that there were a great many capable trainers at their backs. Grisham looked to the Pinsir, and with a slight nod to Griselle, turned and yelled “This way!”, knowing they would follow.
He hoped to lead the Pinsir far enough away to give AZ’s champion a chance to close the final stretch and to lead him and Griselle into an advantageous position. They had the type advantage between the two of them, but the numbers could very easily overwhelm them both. Turning on his heel, Grisham knew that where he stood would be where he and Griselle made their stand.
“Take the skies, and I’ll cover the ground.” She locked herself back to back with him, sending out her Pyroar, the great lion bounding across the roof, already knowing what to do. Grisham sent out Charizard. He would be fine. He had Griselle at his back.
---
You saw Charizard before you saw Grisham. Even at the distance you were, you knew it was his. The way it moved, the power and precision, the seamless heeding of commands as it wove fire through a haze of Pinsir. You were almost there. Just a few more buildings.
Trevenant was weaving a bridge for you, roots reaching far across a divide as Chevalier stood on watch. As soon as she was done, you’d recall her and continue your way even as your legs screamed for a break. You tried not to let your attention fall on Ange, knowing that if you looked at the tower, you might not have the strength to look away.
You traced your thumb over the carvings on your mega ring, grounding yourself slowly. It had been invaluable in getting you across the city; you were relieved that you’d thought to bring it with you. You wouldn’t let Lumiose become another Geosenge, and you grounded that wordless oath into the divots and over the peaks of your mega ring.
The bridge was complete, you recalled Trevenant and launched yourself onto the woven roots that didn’t even budge under your weight. Grisham’s situation wasn’t improved; another wave of Pinsir was incoming. You were hoping you’d make it in time, pulling your mega ring close to your chest.
One more rooftop.
---
Grisham inhaled sharply, dodging another flurry of sharp wind and calling out another command to Charizard. His chest heaved, his ribs tight, lungs burning for a moment of reprieve. He could hear Griselle behind him, her hands more than full. They needed an opening, something to turn the tide while there was still a tide to turn. He needed another window to mega evolve Charizard again, but there were too many Pinsir, maneuvering around them to give the order was proving to be more difficult.
He was about to call out another command when a flurry of purple light rained down before him. A psychic attack? But Griselle didn’t have Metagross out-
A body of white and green crashed into one of the Pinsir, sending it spiraling to another rooftop. Grisham made out the details quickly, the lace ribbon with a keystone brooch worn around the Gallade’s neck, the fluttering cloak-
“Chevalier.” Grisham recognized him, though they’d never met before, “If you’re here then-”
“I’m right here.” You pulled yourself over the edge of the roof, winded from your sprint, with a flash of relieved pride across your features. You closed the distance between the two of you, calling out another command to Chevalier as Grisham remembered where he stood. He took that opportunity to buy them a way out.
“You look awful.” Griselle snorted, nearly out of breath, “Welcome to the party, it’s not as bad as it could be.”
“That’s hopeful.” You looked to Grisham, standing tall, “I’m here to help. Where do you want Chevalier and I?”
“Right here is perfect.” He said it without thinking, his gaze returning to you, “You came back.”
You said nothing at first, eyes trained on your partner Pokémon. There was much you wanted to say, it was written clearly across your face. But you blinked, clearing your mind and steeling your nerves.
“We’ll talk about it later, I promise.”
“No, I suppose this isn’t the time or place.” Grisham sighed. He hadn’t looked away from you, taking in your appearance, “I’m glad you’re back. And that you’re alive.”
Your shoulders softened a hair, followed by a kinder, gentler tone of voice, “I’m glad you’re alive too. Both of you.”
Grisham finally pulled his gaze from you. They had the advantage again; it wouldn’t take much to clear the air and find a way off the rooftop. He took a step back, closing in on you and Griselle, so long as the two of you were in his peripheral vision, he could focus without worry.
Chevalier was a natural extension of you, his movements sharp and determined, clear with his unwavering resolve. He moved readily with Charizard, spinning around to support Griselle and her Pyroar at a moment’s notice. Grisham couldn’t help but notice the smile that was creeping onto his own face. Something about a knight, a dragon, and a fairytale.
Whatever worry Grisham had was temporarily gone, and he found himself enjoying the moment.
Soon the skies were clear, and when Grisham had recalled his Charizard, he turned to find Griselle already reaching for you. She pulled you into a tight embrace. Grisham could tell she wanted it to be much longer than she allowed it. When Griselle pulled away from you, her hands found yours, and she instinctively began checking over the scrapes on your hand.
“We’ve got a med kit back at the truck.” Griselle muttered, pulling out her handkerchief and wrapping one of your hands with it, “And coffee. I’ll make you an ember roast. It won’t taste good, but it’ll warm you right up.”
You let her warm your cold hands with hers, glancing over her shoulder at the tower, “Shouldn’t we do more to stop that?”
“We’ve done all we can for now.” Grisham comforted, “Now the best thing for us is to regroup with the others. Between the three of us, we shouldn’t run into too much trouble on the way.”
You nodded, and Griselle let go of your hands.
Grisham led the charge down from the rooftop, turning back to offer his hands to you and Griselle, his eyes carefully assessing both of you as if worried he might turn his back and one of you would disappear. The streets were much quieter now; it seemed that enough attention had been drawn to keep most of the rogue Pokémon occupied, but that didn’t mean it was safe and easy going. The ground shook, and the flashes of Ange that you could see were an angry gleam of pink and dark shapes moving between hailing light. Anytime you paused, Grisham, or Griselle would reach over and take you by the hand, carefully guiding you onwards. This wasn’t at all what you imagined Geosenge to have felt like. There was too much time, not at all the sudden destruction that the weapon in Geosenge had been. The thing that stood out to you most however, was just how quiet it all was. There was the distant sound of Pokémon battles, but aside from that, it was only the wind and the sound of your footsteps with Grisham and Griselle’s.
It wasn’t Geosenge; this was Lumiose. Things were different; people were trying to stop it. There were people who could stop it. That brought you comfort, as did knowing you weren’t alone.
Grisham filled you in the best he could, telling you everything about AZ’s champion. It brought you some further relief to know that things appeared to be going to plan, that the nightmare would be over. You noticed the slight bitterness that lingered, the way Grisham immediately shoved that bitterness to the side as if straining to break a bad habit.
Just as soon as you started to feel safe, the ground shook harder than it had before, almost sending you entirely to your knees. Your hand locked around Grisham’s wrist, he clung to you in response, reaching out for Griselle. Something wasn’t right about the way she looked, something about the light she was bathed in. Not pink, but green and bright.
Slowly, as if time was coming to a standstill, you turned your attention to the tower. Green energy had exploded across it, and just as soon as you registered it, it faded. As did the rogue mega energy surrounding Ange. And with the energy fading, you watched Ange slump forward like a marionette cut from its strings. Still.
But still breathing.
Your heartbeat was uncomfortably loud in your ears, uncomfortably hard in your chest. Your eyes burned in anticipation, waiting. Ange’s head hung low, its roots whispering in the wind, the flowers it had created swaying aimless but upright.
Was it over?
The ground quaked, a short pulse.
Ange’s head rose towards the heavens, a blinding white light piercing through the cracks as the cage around its head opened, dark petals unfurling and energy coalescing.
Your knees gave out, knowing what was to come.
You refused to believe it. You failed. Grisham failed. AZ’s champion failed. It wasn’t supposed to go this way, it wasn’t supposed to be like this-
You looked to Grisham, expecting him to know what to do; he always did know what to do, there was always some plan. But he stood there, his eyes wide open, his face slack, his shoulders dropped. His chest heaved, his skin paled, and his hand was cold and clammy when you reached out to take it.
Grisham’s head was entirely blank; the frantic hammering of his heart in his chest was distant. His lungs were tight, his eyes burned. Each breath he took was sharp and short, and his skin felt as if it were on fire. Every part of him shook as reality stepped in.
He failed. He failed. He failed. H̶̨̻̰͉̠̩͖̦̭̟͖̻̱̅̀̒̊̉̎̊̒̃̂͋͜͜͝͠͠ę̵̲̟͈̬̟̋̈͆̄͆̓̆͑̒̏̚͝ ̵̛͉̗̹̱͋̒f̴̡̱̗̞̳̺͔̫͍̏̓͌̔̓̆͂̕a̴̬̯͇͔̭̣̮̰̹̜̖͛͛͗̓̆̈́̃͂̔̔̈̑̚ͅi̶̭̯̜̺̩̞̳̗͋͐́͠l̶̨̪̣̺͋̈̀̾͊̓̓́̉͑͂̌̕e̸̢̡̮̤͕̲͉̥͎̜̰͑̂̀͊̄͜d̵̹̑̑̽́̑͂̒̀͂͆̕͝-
You took his hand; he hardly noticed, but it sent electricity racing up his arm and through his chest, releasing his knees as he crashed to the ground next to you.
He couldn’t hear you say his name; he couldn’t hear himself saying “I’m sorry” over and over until the words bled together into incoherence. He could feel the way you clung to him, the way your own breath was frantic and breaking.
Griselle was with you. Her arms encasing you and Grisham, her body shielding you from the light. He could feel her hands firm on his shoulders, hear the desperate and rough timbre of her voice as she called for him to pull himself together.
There was a bright collision of light, and Grisham screwed his eyes shut to avoid its scathing burn, burying his face in either your or Griselle’s shoulder; he couldn’t tell.
The air stilled. Grisham felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Griselle pulled away, her voice coming into focus, “-here with him.”
He heard her leave, and when he turned to look in her direction, there you were. Eyes watering, a wavering smile on your lips, your face cast in a soft hue. He blinked.
“Look.” You managed, your voice weak as you motioned towards Ange.
With great hesitation, Grisham dragged his gaze to follow yours. Any fear that was in him died when he saw the cascade of soft, white light over Lumiose. A slow, ethereal starfall.
You were still holding his hand. Anchoring him. Anchoring yourself.
He didn’t move, taking in the sight.
They won. It was over. Ange was dormant once more. The Prism Tower may have been in ruins, and Lumiose would need months of repairs. But the nightmare was over.
Grisham breathed. It was finally, truly over.
He looked to you, your eyes trained over the city, then to him, meeting his gaze. Relief glittered in your eyes.
He tried to say something, his lips forming words that held no sound.
You didn’t hear him. But it didn’t matter. He held your hand until you let go of it to stand. You offered it to him again, and Grisham looked at you. The starfall glimmered behind you, almost seeming like it would catch in your hair the way the snow had the first time he saw you.
A word came to mind, one that had once been soured by Team Flare. Maybe you were worthy enough to reclaim the word. He thought you were.
You looked at him with a gentle, quiet recognition. With encouragement.
“Let’s go help Lumiose.”
He took your hand.
---
You rendezvoused with Griselle, she’d found a way to the trucks and had turned around to collect you and Grisham.
The next few hours were a blur. Griselle cleaned and bandaged your scrapes, gave you a clean apron, and set you to work helping Flare Nouveau distribute coffee, pastries, blankets, medical kits, anything and everything that could be spared, to Lumiose’s displaced residents. You had been pulled away at some point to help stabilize some debris with the help of your Trevenant. When you came back, you found Sylvie weaving through the crowd of people that had gathered around the trucks, offering comfort to anyone she could. Zorua followed her example, retreating to sit under the truck Grisham worked out of when it got to be too many people.
Grisham and Griselle made it seem so easy. As if a flip had been switched, the two of them wore easy and inviting smiles, and maybe you were hearing things but Griselle actually sounded kind of… nice… for a change. You had a feeling it would be short-lived. Grisham, on the other hand, spoke in low and gentle tones, his head bowed, his hands kindly steadying a warm cup of coffee in the shaking hands of an older man.
What you had said earlier came back to haunt you, and you found yourself unable to bring yourself to look at him directly.
How could you have asked that of him?
Thankfully, you didn’t have time to ruminate on it too much. Griselle kept you more than busy.
The dawn approached, the sky lightened, and the sun spilled over the horizon in warm golden rays. Griselle had sat you down at a bench, leaving you with a cup of coffee in hand and a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Your team was fully withdrawn, exhausted from the night’s activities.
You were tired, your body ached even as you sat, and your eyes felt heavy. Your hands wrapped around the cup of coffee, the warmth seeping through your tired digits and blooming through your chest almost to an uncomfortable degree when you drank it. But it was warm, and it was safe.
You watched the crowd; there was a muted camaraderie that reminded you of Geosenge in the days after the Ultimate Weapon. Lumiose would recover, but it would bear the scars of the night for years to come.
Grisham settled next to you, his own cup of coffee nestled in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was slightly disheveled, and strands of it had fallen and framed his face.
Silence settled between you. Awkward and charged on your end.
“Grisham.” You sat up, setting your coffee to the side and trying to keep your voice steady, “I said something awful to you earlier.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Grisham wore one of his fake smiles, strained with exhaustion evident at every detail of it, “I understand where it came from-”
“Don’t fucking do that.” You interrupted, fully offended, “Don’t just let me hurt you. Don’t just let people treat you terribly because you think you deserve it, or because you think your actions speak louder- you’re more than that. You’ve done more than enough to deserve better than that, Grisham!”
He sat up ever so slightly, his false smile falling, his eyes softening. Maybe you were more exhausted than you thought, maybe the night was finally catching up with you, but you felt the sting of tears in your own eyes, and your throat wavered, tightening as you blinked back tears. You looked up, briefly taking in the retreating night.
“I mean. You’re… you’re so much better than what people say about you. You- fuck. I want to be better.” You looked at him, locking your gaze with his, your voice wavering, “I want to do better. You make me want to do better, and I don’t-”
You looked away, a half-hearted laugh slipping out, “I don’t even know if this is making any sense. I’m just so fucking tired of being angry all the time, Grish. I just want to live.”
You didn’t expect Grisham to hug you again. But his hands pulled you in strongly by the shoulders, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his face buried into your shoulder. You didn’t expect yourself to wrap your arms around him in turn, to feel his shoulders quiver under your touch, to hear the sharp inhale of his breath as he broke against you.
“I want to do better, Grisham. For you. For myself.” You comforted, struggling to bite back your own tears, “I want to live.”
“I wanted to make up everything to you, I wanted to do better to-” Grisham shuddered, taking a deep breath and pulling back. He recomposed himself, not repressing but maintaining, the wetness of his eyes betraying him, “Together. Let’s do better together.”
“I’d like that.” You smiled, wet and tired, “I’m really glad I didn’t kill you, Grisham.”
“Likewise.” Grisham nodded, “I’m glad you came back.”
