Triumvirate, Epilogue: An Ocean Apart
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon

Kanto and Johto reeled in the wake of Lance's downfall and how close they had come to total annihilation. The thin veil between myth and reality had been pierced, and both continents had the catalyst they had long needed to finally cauterize the rotten wound that had slowly and insidiously taken root since the ceasefire at the end of the Great War. In Lance's quest to systematically eradicate all Tamers, he had inadvertently provided a rallying point for the litiginous continents and paved the way for real change and progress, a true end to the Great War.

Team Rocket was finished. Marco, Ethan, and Lyra had disposed of Gym Leader Pryce, also known as the Masked Man, with the help of the legendary beasts Entei, Raikou, and Suicune. Ho-oh was freed from Pryce's control and retreated to its empyrean kingdom, and the three beasts, finally awakened from their death-like sleep, were free to roam the wilds of Johto unencumbered.

Marco, carrying the mantle of his late father's legacy and the ruin it left in its wake, took it upon himself to right wrongs and redeem Team Rocket, the only thing that remained to him of Giovanni. We cannot choose our parents, but we can choose who to be in spite of them. Marco would not let Giovanni's specter haunt him for the rest of his life, and so with Lyra's help, he set out to recruit the members of the now disbanded Team Rocket and offer them a chance at redemption.

Jessie, the Rocket Agent that had hounded Ash and his friends relentlessly throughout their journey, was one such recruitee. Having barely survived the Battle of Cinnabar, her broken body was found under Yanmega's corpse after it had crash-landed abetting Giovanni's ruined escape. The Bug's tough carapace had protected and unconscious Jessie from the ongoing hostilities around her until Cinnabar rescue scouts unearthed her and brought her to the hospital. With her old partner dead and no one to answer to, Jessie grudgingly accepted Marco's terms and turned her flair for violence on rogue agents who refused to turn themselves in. It turned out she was a natural at hunting down her old colleagues and persuading them to see things differently. In exchange for her loyalty, Marco agreed to keep her out of prison. For now.

Ethan took a different route from his friends and decided to work for the new Indigo League, Johto Division. He was appointed head Johto Ranger under the direct authority of the new Elite Four, which had brought together some of Johto's and Kanto's most talented and infamous Tamers. Surge, recovered from the Siege of Saffron, relocated to Indigo Plateau and assumed leadership of the new Elite Four by unanimous vote from the Kanto Gym Leaders. Chuck of Cianwood was likewise unanimously selected by his Johto colleagues to represent their interests at Indigo Plateau. As for the remaining two spots, Agatha insisted on Ash's appointment to take her place, and in a move that shocked all who knew him, Blaine of Cinnabar wrote a strongly-worded letter of recommendation to the sixteen Johto and Kanto Gym Leaders nominating Lily to take over Lance's old position. It was by rights hers for ousting the previous Champion, just as Lance had ousted the Champion before him.

No one was more surprised than Lily herself, however, who realized as soon as she'd been offered the position that it was exactly what she wanted going forward. A chance to continue her research her way but with the power to make her own decisions and lead her own projects with private funding was all she had ever dreamed of. The Elite Four were the keepers of the peace, and in her mind there was no better way to do so than to lead by example in a field that was constantly forging new paths into a better future.

As for Gary, his sister Daisy, who knew Gary better than he knew himself, was the one to suggest that he settle in Viridian, take over the Gym that had been neglected for so long under Giovanni. Marco was more than happy to hand over the title, having never wanted it in the first place, and Brock and Misty were relieved to have a proven and trustworthy ally so close to their backyards.

Ivy took on the role of head Kanto Ranger for Indigo Plateau, a job which took her all over Kanto liaising with the Gym Leaders, both old and new, and reporting to Ethan, her counterpart in Johto, and to the new Elite Four annually. Viridian became her base of operations, where she lived with Gary in the remodeled Viridian Gym.

"It's home," she told Janine as they sat together on the roof of the Fuchsia Gym sharing a blanket and a bottle of wine. "It's a place that's ours."

Janine popped a takoyaki ball into her mouth with a toothpick and lay back in her chair. The stars over Fuchsia were bright on this cloudless night, so unlike Ivy's first night in this city so long ago. "Is it at all weird to be living in Giovanni's old house?"

"Is it weird living in your father's house?"

Janine looked at Ivy askance, her mask discarded for the night as she lounged in a billowy, violet gi that matched the poisoned fingers of her right hand that she kept carefully wrapped up under a layer of bandages. "The memories live here. It isn't weird, but I can feel them. They're everywhere."

Sometimes Ivy would wake up in the middle of the night next to Gary in the master bedroom, where Giovanni had once slept, and she couldn't see anything. It was as dark as the cramped cell in the Masked Man's lair, inky and oppressive, and for a few moments she could not breathe. Until her eyes adjusted and Gary's hand found hers, her dreams having leaked into his and woken him from slumber, and she remembered.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Okay, I've got more wine," Gary said as he climbed the narrow fire escape steps to the roof to rejoin the girls. Technically he was supposed to remain in Viridian now, but he'd joined Ivy for the Fuchsia leg of her trip like he usually did. They never spoke about it, never needing to. It was just something he did, something he needed to do. Like Janine and Ivy, Gary remembered, too. "Where'd you put the corkscrew?"

"Catch." Janine tossed it to him, and Gary almost dropped it.

"Hey! Damnit, I almost dropped the bottle. You know I can't see well out here," Gary grumbled.

Janine and Ivy grinned at each other.

He took his seat on Ivy's other side and refilled everyone's glasses. Espeon stretched out at his feet and sniffed at the plate of takoyaki, lost interest, then sat down and lazily sniffed the air. A small Eevee twitched its ears and stood up, mimicking Espeon's every move and watching it adoringly. It yawned and mewled, fighting to keep its eyes open. It was still so young.

Ivy smiled and scooped Eevee up. "Don't worry, little guy. One day, you'll be able to stay up later even than Espeon."

"He's cute," Janine said. "You didn't have an Eevee the last time I saw you."

"Yeah. Gary found this little guy in the Viridian Forest a few weeks ago and gave him to me for my birthday. He's young, but he's got guts."

She scratched Eevee behind the ears, and Gary's hand found hers silently. He said nothing, but he didn't have to. It was enough to remember, and it was okay to move forward.

The Elite Four's downfall hit Kanto and Johto hard, but most of all Blackthorn. Lance, the pride of the Taki Dynasty, perhaps the greatest Dragon Tamer of the century, had committed barbarous treason, betraying his country and, more importantly, his clan. Blackthorn, under Clair's cool and shrewd leadership, focused its efforts on curbing the international opprobrium laid upon it when news of Lance's treachery spread. Never a popular group among the plebs, the non-Tamer population, and targets of invidious scorn by most of their fellow Tamers, Clair and the Titans of Blackthorn were quick to publicly distance themselves from Lance and his actions.

The excuses were so well rehearsed that even Clair had begun to believe some of them. He'd been out of the clan's reach for years, surrounded only by his fellow Elites and susceptible to Team Rocket's pernicious influence. He was estranged from his family, had been since childhood when he witnessed the brutal murder of his father during the Great War as the man cried and begged for mercy, shameful—no one wanted anything to do with the son of a coward. He was mentally unstable, a misanthrope and a sociopath, elegant and charming on the outside—the worst ones always are, aren't they? Whatever the media wanted to hear, Blackthorn eagerly fed them the flummery with a healthy dollop of shock and disdain. No one had ever suspected! No, not even the Elder, who'd mentored Lance since the latter's youth. Not even his cousin, Clair, anointed Gym Leader of Blackthorn with whom he'd grown up.

In private, Clair entertained clandestine meetings with representatives from the Apep and Fafnir Dynasties in Kalos and Unova, respectively, as well as the self-made Dragon Master Drake of Hoenn, who personally paid Clair a visit to offer his condolences and help himself to Blackthorn's hospitality. The entire time Clair had to entertain the self-important fortynblod who'd somehow waded his way to the deeper end of the gene pool and ended up with extraordinary control out of sheer dumb luck, she imagined maiming and killing him in creative and gruesome ways.

"Don't worry your pretty head over it too much," the uncouth sailor drawled as he happily drank his way through the Gym's supply of scotch like it might cure whatever latest venereal disease he'd picked up. "Men like Lance, they're born with a silver spoon in their mouths. And sooner or later, they'll end up choking on it."

He laughed at his own cleverness and sawed off a chunk of grilled Corphish with a shrimp fork and a steak knife, the melted butter and garlic marinade slicking his mustachios and making them shine as brightly as his flat, fleshy nose. Clair fantasized about reaching across the table and shoving the tiny shrimp fork in his left eyeball to the pearl-tipped hilt.

Instead of indulging her sadistic fantasy, she smiled with those perfect, painted lips and looked at him through her lashes. "Oh, I'm sure there was no choking involved. Despite his tragic end, Lance was raised to use his spoon and any other tool with the proper grace and finesse of any trueborn clan Titan."

Drake choked on a bit of food badly, and his face turned red. A server brought a wet towel and patted his back to try to help him, but he glared, red-faced and sweating, at Clair across the table. She got up abruptly, cold, blue eyes looking down at him over her nose, and politely excused herself with a bow. Graceful, as any trueborn Titan of one of the three clans.

Brownnosing swine, she thought furiously as she exited the dining room.

Drake, like the rest of the Hoenn Titans, was the product of generations of vanithers, deserters who abandoned their families and resettled in Hoenn in disgrace. They were the thin blooded skuffs and the fortynblods, the ones who could not manifest the requisite mastery to earn them the title of proper Titan. They were the failures and the cowards, the bastards and the exiled, the ones who clamored for change and turned tail and ran when things didn't go their way. Sure, over the years some had been born with the Old Blood strong in their veins, like Drake, and risen to prominence. But they were a different species now, the clan's teachings and wisdom lost on them. She pitied them, but she had also hoped a man like Drake who had proven himself enough of a nuisance to Hoenn's Champion, Steven Stone, to get him on the radar would have realized the value of friends. Steven was famously not a fan of Titans.

Clair made her way through the Gym to the private living quarters. Her grandfather, the Elder, would hear of her behavior with Drake and dispatch someone to wipe the filmy butter from his chin and pour him some more scotch. The Elder might chide her for rudeness in this sensitive time, but the old curmudgeon was even less enthusiastic about those filthy vanithers masquerading around Hoenn and tarnishing the pedigree the three great clans had cultivated over the centuries.

Clair entered her room and discarded her blazer on her four-poster bed, leaving her clad in only a navy, cotton dress, sensibly sensuous, and black pumps. She let her hair out of the elaborate pin-up and tied it back in a simple ponytail. The hand-carved cabinet next to her walk-in closet was filled with crystal bottles, each partially filled with liquid in various shades of amber and gold and dark, earthy brown. She selected the lightest, a syrupy, honeyed bourbon brewed in Azalea and poured herself a glass, two shots worth, and downed it all in as many gulps. It went down smooth, smoky and a little sweet, but the kick burned as it hit her stomach and cleared her sinuses. She liked the ones with a little fire in them.

Refilling her glass, she caught a glimpse of herself in the generous vanity and studied her reflection. Twenty-nine and blessed with the Old Blood that had made her grandfather proud when it manifested at the age of four, Clair was in the prime of her youth, beauty, and power. She was admired and envied, feared and coveted. An esteemed Gym Leader and suddenly heir-apparent to the Taki Dynasty's geriatric Elder. But there were faint dark circles under her eyelids that softened the sharp edges of her icy eyes and made her appear gaunt in the waning sunlight. Away from prying eyes, she glared at her reflection and let a whiff of her inner furor seep out past those libidinous, red lips.

"How dare you do this to me," she whispered. "To our family. How dare you."

Lance had been the golden boy, the favored son who had pulled himself up by his bootstraps in the shadow of his father's unending ignominy after the war. He had the gift, but so did many other trueborn children of the Taki Dynasty. Lance was an ocean apart from them all. There was hardly a day when Clair, of an age with her cousin, didn't see him outside, in the winding, subterranean caverns of the Dragon's Den shrine or up in the Ice Path where the Dragons' greatest enemies called home. He was always training, always pushing himself.

"Why do you always go to the Ice Path?" she'd asked him once when he came back, his fingers purple-speckled with frostbite and his little body shaking uncontrollably, with his young Dratini bravely by his side. "Dragons don't like ice and cold."

He'd looked at her across that ocean that separated him from the others, even from her—wondering at the distance but never caring to turn back and cross it. "That's exactly why we go."

Somewhere in her child's mind, Clair had gotten the ugly impression that he was calling her chicken for not training in the harsh conditions like he did, so she proved him wrong and took Horsea and her own Dratini to the edge of the Ice Path one day, following Lance at a safe distance so he wouldn't notice her. But she didn't know the caves like he did. She didn't expect Horsea to nearly freeze to death in the frigid, underground rivers and lakes where wild Dewgong made their homes. She didn't expect to slip and fall into those waters and be carried under a sheet of ice in the current, Dratini too cold to fend off the barking Dewgong that grew angry at her accidental intrusion. And she didn't expect Lance to smash through the ice with the help of a pair of wild Lapras under his control, an extraordinary feat for such a young Titan.

The blue Dragon descendants chased off the Dewgong while Lance himself hauled Clair out of the freezing water. He carried her out of the Ice Path using a shortcut he knew. He got her to the Elder, their grandfather, and saw her whisked to the hot springs that bubbled softly in the Dragon's Den to stave off the hypothermia. He saved her life, and he never said a word about it thereafter.

Clair turned away from the mirror, its edges misted in her vision with the ebbing tide of memory. She kicked off her pumps and padded barefoot to the sliding doors that opened up into the sheltered garden. A hardwood paneled, covered porch stretched around the perimeter of the garden, and other private rooms opened up onto the same porch. The garden was moss-covered and peppered with drooping willows, their long, trailing branches floating in the still, deep ponds that twisted underground to the Dragon's Den.

Her Dragonite slumbered under one of the trees, snoring softly, its thick tail submerged in the water, while her Kingdra waded in the middle of one of the larger ponds nearly covered in small, green leaves that floated on the surface and completely obscured it, like a crocodile patiently scouting for unassuming prey. Clair took a small sip of her drink, this time savoring the heady mixture of smoke and honey and lightning.

The garden was quiet at this time of day while most of the handful of people with access to it were busy with dinner, and Clair had often come here to think and be alone. Her grandfather disapproved of her drinking habit, which wasn't so much a habit as a hobby, but like most people of that greying generation, he was stuck in his antediluvian traditions and happy to force others to wallow in the wagon rut with him. Clair had never done more than what was absolutely necessary to keep his favor and peace, stealing moments for herself whenever possible. As Gym Leader, she had more and more free rein to run things her way.

With Lance out of the picture, there was no need to keep up pretenses around the Elder, she thought belatedly. The incident with Drake would be resolved without more than a light slap on the wrist. The taste of her drink soured in her throat, and she took another, larger sip to wash out the rotten aftertaste of Lance's betrayal.

Something shuddered in the grass far to the left—the garden was nearly a mile across to accommodate the Dragons' communal lounging habits and for the residents' privacy—and Clair's hawk-like eyes narrowed at the source. Icy blue landed easily on the eyesore in the Elysian sanctuary as it bumbled about and tore up moss and mushroom and lilypad without discrimination, purely by accident. The creature noticed Clair—its senses as keen as any true Dragon's—and turned its heavy head. Its bladed mandible sliced clean through a drooping willow branch as though it were nothing but spider's silk, and the severed limb tumbled into the small pond from which the beast had been drinking with a slurp.

Clair padded toward it, blue eyes locked on its guillotine skull. "The things we do for a drink and some peace."

"Or at least just the drink."

Clair stopped and searched. She hadn't even seen the other woman. A figure rose from her spot under the same willow tree the ungainly Dragon had desecrated and tucked a thick tress of violet, nearly black hair behind her ear, though it immediately fell about her cheek, disobedient.

"The right company is better than any amount of peace and quiet," Clair conceded. "Have you been hiding out here again, Iris?"

Iris grinned, and her dark, almond eyes crinkled in a way that reminded Clair of her mixed blood, more than the hammered copper tone of her skin, which positively glowed in the waning sunlight, or the slight hitch of an accent—the almost imperceptible roll of an r, the subtle gasp of a hanging consonant that wanted to give way to a smoother vowel—diminished over the years spent living in Blackthorn. Clair and her ilk didn't smile like that, like the sun had risen just for her.

"Cheers to that. And no, I'm not hiding. The Elder kindly asked me to make myself scarce while that Hoenn Titan is skulking around. Haxorus likes the garden."

How subtle of my dear grandfather.

Iris wore a sleeveless white shift belted around her slim waist with a brown leather strap. Her thick hair, the color of crushed violets, was yanked back in a messy ponytail that reached her butt, full and round between shapely hips with just enough sway to draw the eye's stare for a tempting look. She was short, barely two inches over five feet, and was constantly looking up at Clair and the other men and women whose home and table she had shared for the better part of her twenty-three-year life. It was cruelly fitting, Clair thought, that this half breed would always be looking up at those born a notch above her in the pecking order. The Elder would make sure of it, in any case. Another one for the wagon rut.

Iris's Haxorus was the only one of its kind in Johto, the species alien to this continent and the next. Iris had brought it with her as a tiny Axew trembling in her eight-year-old arms in the middle of the night, her spirit tired from the clandestine flight from Unova, those almond eyes wide with fear but as dry as they were now even as her mother beseeched the Elder on Iris's behalf. She was just a child, innocent and malleable, obedient. She had the gift, just test her. Didn't he know who her father was?

The Elder had agreed to offer Iris and her mother asylum once he saw Iris's latent potential for mastering the Old Blood's powers. It was strong in her veins despite her mother's inferior half. There was no turning away a child with potential, even a tacha, a tainted halfblood, like Iris. Another one for the wagon rut, indeed.

But Clair had always had a soft spot for Iris hidden somewhere in her sharp, severe angles and safe from the layer of ice that kept her running at a chilly and constant level of fuck-off. Despite their age gap, Iris was quick. She was a fast learner, dedicated in a way Clair envied, in the darkest depths of her private thoughts, and what she lacked in status and skin color and connections, she more than made up for sheer fucking determination. Iris was as hard headed as her Haxorus, cutting through anything that stood in the way of what she wanted for herself and, until just three years after Blackthorn had taken her in, what her late mother wanted for her, too. Perhaps constantly looking up at those around her made it easier to keep her eyes on the sky and shoot for heights others just laughed at.

Clair wasn't laughing.

"Come on," Clair said, the bad taste fading from her mouth the more Iris watched her. "I'll even pour for you myself."

"I'm star struck, truly."

Clair cracked a smile and led Iris back to her room, where she filled two glasses with the golden, liquid fire. They sat together with their feet dangling over the edge of the porch, toes dusting the moist moss and short, pink flowers that kissed them dewily.

"I take it you didn't play nice with Drake," Iris said, breaking the comfortable silence as they watched the sun slowly set. Electric lanterns buzzed to life about the garden and bathed it in soft, orange light.

"The bastard wouldn't know peanut butter from shit spread thin," Clair said.

She realized her mistake too late, but Iris did her the immense courtesy of laughing anyway, ignoring the slip.

"When I'm in Hoenn, remind me never to eat the food," Iris said.

If Clair were anybody else, Iris probably would have gotten up and walked away, offering some demure excuse like she had been trained to do, just as all women growing up under the Taki Dynasty's rule. But behind those almond eyes that hadn't cried the night she showed up on Blackthorn's doorstep without a last name or a country to call home simmered a fierce and elemental temper, expertly hidden and released only in short, imperceptible bursts to those who knew where to look. Clair knew where to look. She returned the courtesy and didn't apologize for her slip. No need to remind Iris of what she was reminded every day she was here instead of in the home she still believed waited for her an ocean away.

"When?" Clair asked.

Iris shifted beside her and lay back on her palms, her eyes skyward like they always were. "It's on the way to Unova from here. I'll have to stop to restock."

Clair kept her expression carefully schooled. Not this again.

"Unova," she repeated. "And how will you get there?"

"By ship, obviously."

"Whose ship?"

Iris looked at her pointedly, but Clair didn't budge. This is for your own good.

"This is the perfect time to go," Iris said, lowering her voice to that raspy whisper that preceded the hurricane of her temper. "After what happened with Lance, the Elder will be culling Blackthorn for more traitors. Where do you think he'll start?"

Despite her illusions of grandeur, Iris was nothing if not acutely aware of her situation, painfully pragmatic. Clair didn't have to answer her question. They both knew exactly where the Elder would begin looking for signs of disloyalty and duplicity.

She almost laughed at the thought. Titans rooting out treachery among their ranks was like burning down a chicken coop with the chickens in it just to keep the foxes away.

"I'm the Gym Leader," Clair said steadily, trying a different angle. "And now I'm the heir."

I can protect you.

"I don't want your protection." Iris read her meaning easily. "I want what's rightfully mine. I thought you of all people could understand that."

Bastards can't wear crowns. Clair kept the thought to herself, but she didn't have to. Iris knew the argument, the reality, and she stubbornly would not accept it.

"Of course I understand. But Opelucid is no different from Blackthorn. You know our ways. You know they haven't changed for a thousand years."

Iris's eyes flashed with the first harsh winds of the hurricane bottled up inside her. "Then I'll change them. Opelucid's weak. It hasn't recovered after the Red Plague hit fifteen years ago."

The Red Plague, an insidious disease that spread through bodily discharge and killed in seven days, had wiped out almost three quarters of the Fafnir Dynasty's ranks in Opelucid City. It broke out just after Iris and her mother fled the city, the Dragons breathing fire at their heels now that Iris's father was no longer around to protect them. The clan had not been the same since, relying on mercenaries to pad their emaciated ranks until the next generation could come of age, which would not be for another couple of decades. Most of those killed during the epidemic were children under the age of thirteen.

"Opelucid may still be recovering," Clair allowed, "but they have a strong leader."

She dared not mention Drayden's name out loud around Iris. Just the thought of the snowy-haired monarch and what he had done to Iris and her family stoked the hurricane inside her and sent her into an incandescent rage. Age and the very real consequences of losing control behind the Taki Dynasty's walls had tempered Iris's volatile emotions, but with Clair she felt less of a need for restraint. That was what friends were for.

"He's not the rightful king, I am. And I'll prove it him, to everyone. You'll see, Clair. I'll show you something none of you have ever seen before."

"You'll see."

Lily's voice echoed Iris's in the fog of Clair's memory. The bubbly blonde had, against all the odds in the universe, done the impossible. The stories were always different, the details never lining up. But the endings were all the same: Lily Kida, the fortynblod scientist that had slipped through the cracks of Blackthorn's iron-clad walls had bested Lance the Dragon Master. Just like she promised she would do.

When Clair had heard the story, she didn't believe it. It took separate accounts, first from one of the Orange Navy commanders that had personally sailed to the remains of Shamouti to recover the four young trainers that had dared to confront Lance and his demon, then from Morty, who had heard it directly from Ash Ketchum himself, and finally from Blaine, the Cinnabar Gym Leader and technically Lily's boss in her little science lab. Lily had beaten Lance.

And she had lived to tell about it.

Acceptance came and went. Some days were better than others, the days when Clair let her personal indignance smolder. Lance had betrayed Kanto and Johto, the clan, everyone. But most of all, he'd betrayed her. Other days she found herself defending him to herself. He had to have his reasons. Lance always had his reasons, even when he pulled her out of that icy death trap when they were kids and never mentioned it again. His silence was all the encouragement Clair needed to shape up and take her training seriously. In a way, she was Gym Leader now because of the shadow Lance cast over her as she watched his back, furiously sprinting to catch up no matter how long it took.

But now, nearly two months since the debacle at Shamouti and endless PR campaigns and speeches later, Clair was exhausted. Reality was a bitch, and it had plenty of sisters. Lance was gone, she was still here, and he'd left her a hell of a mess to clean up. Ironically, the fact that Lily was a Titan formerly of Blackthorn had been the lifeline Clair clung to as she vehemently defended the Taki Dynasty, her family and her home, with her usual scathing candor.

Titans clean up their own problems. Titans will always wield the scalpel of justice and cut out the rot that infects their impregnable ranks. Blackthorn is just as outraged as the rest of you, don't you see? We're not the enemy! The enemy is lying in pieces at the bottom of a black ocean, relegated to myth alongside his demented sea monster at the hands of one of our own. One of us.

Lily never officially commented. She never reached out to Blackthorn, never acquiesced to interviews. She never rebutted any of Blackthorn's claims as to her lineage, her ties back to the ancient clan. And eventually, the world began to settle for the idea that maybe there really was nothing to refute. It would take many more months, but already Clair could feel the boulder reaching the top of the mountain, and with some more carefully executed strategy that she would personally handle with as little involvement from the Elder as possible, she was confident she could push the boulder over the peak to tumble down the other side.

She did see now. It was foggy, and on her worst nights the haze of alcohol and tears and bitterness clouded the image. But she was beginning to see it. Lance had drifted too far off in that ocean that lay between them, and he'd paid the price. Clair would not make the same mistake with Iris. She would not let her drown out there alone when there was something she could do, something she had chosen not to do for Lily when she had the chance.

"The last time someone told me that, I dismissed it as pretty fantasy," Clair said. "It was my own fault for not trusting her resolve."

Iris's maelstrom abated, a false respite in the eye of the storm, and she peered at Clair. "What're you saying?"

Clair downed the rest of her drink, savoring the buzz that took the edge off the clusterfuck she'd been immersed in for the past couple of months. With Iris, at least, she could have a little faith. That was what friends were for, right?

"I'm saying I'll give you a ship and a crew to sail it. But you'll have to stomach the food in Hoenn. You're right about resupplying."

Iris gaped at her, and Clair was reminded of her relatively young age, so carefully hidden under the layers of marble and razor blades with which all Titans growing up in Blackthorn had to harden their hides.

"You're serious."

Clair leaned back on her palms, mimicking Iris's pose and looked to the sky, wondering if she would see what Iris saw in its hazy, indigo depths. Wondering if Lily had seen it, too, when she gazed across the vast ocean at Lance.

"Ask me again and I might change my mind," Clair said.

Iris swallowed, believing the threat. "The Elder..."

"The Elder is frail and dying. He won't last more than another year, maybe two at best. No one will question me. Not anymore."

Speaking out against the Elder was tantamount to treason, even for Clair. But after everything that had happened with Lance, the entire game had changed. Allegiances forged in shadows and blood shifted. If Lance, the Elder's favorite, could fall so magnificently, what did that mean for those who followed in his footsteps? Clair had been playing the game long enough to smile through her misery. Iris was only just beginning to understand.

Haxorus lumbered over toward the two lounging women, its red eyes half-lidded as it looked around for a comfortable patch of moss on which to lie down and sleep. Its approach disturbed Dragonite's slumber, and Kingdra sank below the surface.

"So you believe I can do it?" Iris asked, her hurricane barricaded and the child in her, the innocent that had always admired Clair, held her breath and waited for the approval she never got from the others.

"I believe you're a Titan for true," Clair said, meaning it.

It was all that mattered.

What did she see in him?

Clair thought of what it must have been like for Lily, a diluted vander, separated from the clan, to face Lance, the best of them all.

What did he see in her?

"Thank you, Clair," Iris said, her toes skimming the pink flowers and shedding dew on the moss. Haxorus curled its armored, yellow tail around itself, one eye checking on Iris before it dozed off. Iris kept her eyes resolutely skybound. "Thank you."

Clair didn't smile or give Iris any reassurances. The girl didn't need them. She was determined like hell, and a little ocean wasn't going to stop her.

Maybe Lance saw in Lily what I see in you.

They stayed that way, sitting together and enjoying the silence and their drinks and memorizing it, this feeling, the two of them, until the stars came out.

Indigo Plateau was quiet at night, like you might expect any small mountain town to be. But the lights of the town below were what reminded Lily of Cinnabar, of home. This was her home now, she supposed. That was okay. The Rangers that manned the Indigo Keep were courteous and candid, but never gossipy. They never asked about Shamouti, about her involvement. Maybe they knew something of what it was like, to face an Elite and come out alive. They'd lived with Lance and the others for years. They knew a thing or two about keeping their heads.

But it was really Ash's presence that made the transition as smooth as it had been. After recovering at Cinnabar in Blaine's personal clinic in Mt. Cinnabar—his insistence, not hers—Lily had retrieved Omastar and Dodrio and headed for Indigo Plateau together with Ash, making a short stop in Viridian City on the way to help Gary settle into his new role as Gym Leader.

She liked it here, the mountains and the crisp air and the quiet. It surprised her how much she liked it. She had freedom here, to work in a lab of her own and to pursue what interested her, to do something important that would help people and Pokémon. Finding a cure for Mewtwo's disease was chief among the new projects she had begun preliminary research on. She would try, she promised herself. No matter how long it took, she would not give up. She was no longer under the yoke of Cinnabar Labs' pre-approved projects and guarded funding. The Indigo Plateau coffers were abundant thanks to a generous donation from Celadon, something about maintaining a vested interest. Ash had told Lily not to worry about it, that the Celadon Gym Leader Erika was okay in his book, and she left it at that, trusting his judgment. One day, perhaps, she would hear his side of the story about everything before she'd met him. One day.

Ash was due back today. He'd left in a hurry about a week ago when he received word that his mother, Delia Ketchum, was responding well to an experimental treatment and might wake up from her long coma in the Pewter hospital.

Winter was fast approaching, but Lily savored the chill as she snuggled under a blanket and sat on the spacious balcony outside the gold and red accented Saffron Solar. Getting comfortable with a glass of wine and enjoying some quiet time alone, she selected two Pokéballs from her belt. The first one released Dragonair, who slithered over the rug Lily had lain out over the stone floor.

"Hi, Tiny," she said with a smile. "It's not too cold for you, right?"

Dragonair gently nudged her with its snout, and she hugged its large head. The remaining Pokéball was still in her hand, and she hesitated. It was marked with a silver star, the same one she had found on Shamouti Island after her battle with Lance.

"It's okay," Lily said more to herself than to Dragonair. "She'll remember this place."

Lily pressed the release button on the Pokéball, and another Dragonair materialized on the wide, woven rug. This one, however, was female and her scales glowed a pearlescent pink under the moonlight.

Dark eyes shifted warily between Lily and Tiny, still unused to her new company. When Lily had first released this Dragonair from its Pokéball to be treated at the Cinnabar Pokémon Center, it had tried to attack Nurse Joy in a bout of fear and distress. The staff had to sedate the poor thing just to treat it. Lily spent all her free time once she was mobile again whispering reassurances to the pink Dragonair—Lance's Dragonair—and running her bruised, broken fingers over its magnificent scales. Its coloring was a rare genetic anomaly, according to Nurse Joy. An outcast among its kind.

Lily told herself that was why she'd kept it. It didn't belong with the Titans in Blackthorn any more than she did. But that didn't mean it belonged with her. She could have released it, she supposed. It was strong, it could have survived. Lance had trained it well.

Lance's Dragonair.

She wondered what it saw when it looked at her.

"It's okay, Shiny," Lily called to the pink Dragonair, using the nickname she'd decided on for it. "You remember this place, right?"

Shiny the pink Dragonair tasted the air, its dark eyes swiveling, but it didn't try to attack. Tiny slithered around it but kept a careful distance. This was still new. How would Lance's Pokémon react to Lily's guidance? There was only one way to find out, one day at a time.

Lily held out a hand to Shiny, but she got little more than a wary glance in response. "You miss him, don't you?"

You can't forget him.

Lily let her hand fall. The fingernails she'd ripped off during the battle with Lance were growing back slowly, and her left ring and middle fingers were nothing but stubby nubs of flesh where the nail should have been. The same hand she'd used to slap him in a fit of blind fury.

"Why is that the only way you can see the world?"

He had no answer for her. Perhaps he'd never thought about it. Maybe no one had ever asked. Lily's hand shook as she stared at it, lost in the memory, the way Lance had looked at her then, like she was all there was to see and how had he not noticed it before? How had she not?

Why didn't he kill me then?

Something cold nudged her trembling hand, and Lily looked up in surprise. Shiny's snout was cold and wet against her knuckles, and its dark eyes lingered on her like it was looking for something it couldn't quite put its finger on. Lily blinked and ran her hand over its nose without thinking.

"I can't forget him, either," Lily said softly.

"Excuse me, ma'am? The Johto Ranger is here to see you. He's just arrived. Shall I send him up?"

A young man in the Indigo Ranger uniform poked his head out of the door to the balcony, and Lily hid her hand in the folds of her blanket when she faced him.

"Oh, thank you, Jonathan. It's okay, I'll come down. Did you already tell the others?"

Jonathan the Ranger nodded. "Yes, ma'am. They're already downstairs."

Lily shrugged out of her blanket, leaving her only in a knit black sweater and jeans. "I'll be right down."

She headed inside, leaving Tiny and Shiny alone to relax and do as they pleased. Everyone was in the communal Sun Room on the main floor of the Indigo Keep, where guests were invited to lounge with the Elite Four for digestifs and mingling and sometimes musical entertainment. An ancient grand piano sat in the corner opposite the fireplace, but Lily didn't know how to play it.

When she arrived, the first to greet her was her Pikachu.

"ChuChu! Should you be running around like this? It's only been a week!"

ChuChu squeaked happily and scampered about with its usual enthusiasm. Clinging to its back was a small, black and yellow ball of fur about half its size, furry tail erect to help it balance. The tiny Pichu looked up over its mother's head and blinked up at Lily, seemingly unfazed by its boisterous mother's penchant for running around. Lily kneeled down to get a good look at it.

"Wow, you're getting big, Pichu," Lily cooed to the baby Pichu. "Wait'll Ash and Pika get back here. They'll be so excited to see you!"

Pichu's high-pitched squeak was so shrill it was almost impossible for Lily's ears to hear it. She scooped up both Pokémon and walked to the center of the room, where the gathered party awaited her.

"Lily, hey!" Ethan waved to her as though she might not see him otherwise. "Hey, over here!"

ChuChu squeaked happily and jumped out of Lily's arms again, this time to race toward Ethan and the short man standing next to him. Lily smiled warmly at the sight of them both, and Ethan laughed as Pikachu jumped into his arms, sparking lightly.

"Hey, ChuChu, you remember me, huh?" Ethan said.

"That Pikachu could use a firmer hand," said the surly man next to Ethan. "Damn rodent'll electrocute somebody."

"ChuChu's just happy to be up and about after so long being cooped up," Lily said. "You know the feeling, right Lieutenant?"

Surge scowled deeply at Lily, who was of a height with him—a fact he was not keen to be reminded of. He stood slightly hunched as he leaned on a gnarled wooden cane, but otherwise he looked much like his old self, cargo pants and camo and dog tags. His scowl stretched the fleshy scar that bisected his face.

"Hmph, I'm not the one with a newborn to look after."

"Huh? Oh, damn! I didn't even notice this little guy!" Ethan examined the baby Pichu clutching its mother's back, and the little rodent tentatively lifted its head and sniffed at his nose. "Hey, buddy. Wow, aren't you a little cutie?"

Pichu wrinkled its nose, and before Lily could even form a coherent thought, Surge yanked her back by the arm and pulled her aside. She barely cleared the danger zone when Pichu sneezed and erupted in a ball of sparks that washed over Ethan and charred the rich, red carpet under his feet.

Coughing, Ethan wiped his nose. His dark hair sparked with static under his backwards cap, but he was otherwise completely unharmed. "Gesundheit, little guy. Damn, what a Spark!"

"Oh my god, Ethan, are you okay?" Lily peeked out from behind Surge. "I'm so sorry!"

Surge rolled his eyes. "That Pichu's young and can't control its electricity. It shouldn't be around people until it's older."

"Aw, it's okay," Ethan said. "It doesn't bother me."

"That's 'cause you're a Fulmen, you moron."

"...Oh, you mean other people." Ethan smiled sheepishly.

"Fuckin' shit on a stick." Surge rubbed his eyes.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Lily said, patting his muscled arm lightly. "I think you're right about little Pichu. You'd know better than me."

"That old man? Nah, I think he's gettin' a little soft."

Everyone turned and saw Ash and his Pikachu making their way into the room, still in his traveling clothes, accompanied by the burly Chuck. Lily lit up like the dawn and burst into a bright smile.

"Ash! You're back!"

Ash grinned and scooped her up when she ran toward him, twirling her around in a bear hug. "I missed you."

Lily laughed and he put her down. She boldly kissed him full on the lips, and he tightened his grip in her sweater for the couple seconds that it lasted. It had only been about ten days, but this dreary castle always felt a lot bigger and draftier without him around. "Me too. What happened? Is your mom okay? When can I go with you to see her?"

"Yeah, she's gonna be okay. The doctors said she's responding well to the treatment. They think it's just a matter of time before she wakes up. I'm gonna head back down there in a couple days if you wanna come?"

"Yeah, if that's okay? Oh Ash, I'm so happy your mom's gonna be okay."

He nodded. "Yeah, looks like it. I can hardly believe it. God, I've got so much to tell her."

Pika had run toward Ethan and Surge, and ChuChu jumped down from Ethan's arms so the two of them could huddle around the baby Pichu. Pichu blinked up at Pika, a little wary meeting its father for the first time.

"I think I might cry," Ethan said. "This is so touching."

"Shut the fuck up, kid," Surge said.

"Surge, I see your patience hasn't run out here yet," Chuck said, ambling toward him like a bear.

Chuck had foregone a sweater in spite of the chill. His bare, hairy arms rippled with muscles despite the beer belly he was nursing, but despite appearances Chuck was a master Bellator that even had Clair's respect as a fellow Gym Leader. Jovial and jolly, Chuck was as easygoing as they came. He was always smiling, even when he was getting ready to break someone's arm or bash in their skull.

"I don't know how you put up with this kid for so long. Were you drunk the whole time?"

"Only after five," Ethan said, winking. He reached out and shook Chuck's hand. "Master, it's been a long time. Good to see you."

"Ethan. How's the job? You're not getting soft, are ya? How 'bout a friendly spar before you head off?"

Ethan quailed. "Ah, haha, maybe if I've got the time. But hey, how about some dinner first? The lieutenant here was talking about a new shipment of summer scotch, straight outta Fuchsia. Just arrived today."

Chuck lit up, as Ethan predicted he would, and forgot all about the invitation to beat the crap out of his former student, his idea of a 'friendly spar'. "Why didn't you say so before? Jonathan! Where the hell is everybody? Oi!"

"Hey, lemme take a look at this little guy." Ash kneeled down between the two Pikachu and peered at Pichu. "Wow, he's already so big. How long's it been? I can't believe I missed his birthday!"

Surge bravely resisted the urge to smack Ash over the head with his walking stick. "Jonathan, stop what you're doing and go get my wife."

Jonathan the Ranger, who had appeared at Chuck's bellowed request, bowed stiffly to Surge. "Sir? She's working out in the pool and requested not to be disturbed until dinner—"

"I know what she said, and I don't give a Raticate's ass. You tell her to get her pretty ass in here before I lose my goddamned mind. Insufferable woman..."

Jonathan hesitated. Who would be more of a hassle to upset, Surge or his intractable wife, Violet? He would send one of the maids to ask her, he decided. Yes, that would be safest.

"Right away, sir." Jonathan excused himself.

"Jonathan! The scotch, don't you forget!"

Jonathan smiled. "I already sent in the request to serve it an hour ago. You'll find it bottled in the sitting room."

Chuck grinned. "Now this is my kinda place." He slapped Surge on the shoulder, but the action ended up knocking the lieutenant off balance.

Raichu, who had been sitting quietly and cleaning itself, bumped Surge's legs and caught him before he could take a tumble. Surge grumbled a string of curses under his breath, willing himself not to get mad at Chuck. The man could break him in half like a used toothpick if he wanted, and Surge wasn't as young as he used to be. Where the fuck was Violet when he needed someone normal to talk to?

"He was born a week ago today," Lily said, kneeling beside Ash. "You just missed it, but he electrocuted Ethan just now."

"Aw, what a cutie."

Ethan kneeled down with them and held out a hand for Pichu. The little furball sniffed him experimentally, looked back between its parents, then back at Ethan, ears drooping. Ethan gently petted its head and earned himself a shy but appreciative squeak.

"Hey guys, I think he kinda likes me!"

Lily looked between Ethan and the little electric rodent. "Hey Ethan, why don't you take Pichu with you when you head back out to Johto?"

"Huh? Wait, seriously?"

"Lt. Surge is right. Pichu's gotta learn how to control its electricity, and me and Ash have a lot to do here. I'd like Pichu to get outside instead of being cooped up in here all the time. And you're Fulmen, so maybe you could help it out better than we could, right?"

Ethan gaped at her. "Seriously? Like, you'd for real let me take Pichu?"

Ash scratched Pika behind the ears. "I think it's a good idea, too. Pika hates being in a Pokéball. If the little guy's anything like his dad, he'll be chompin' at the bit soon enough to go on an adventure."

Ethan looked about ready to burst into tears. "I always wanted one of the Pikachu line! I was telling Lyra pretty recently, actually! Wow, that'd be awesome. I'd love to take little Pichu when he's big enough."

"Then it's settled," Lily said.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" Violet bellowed from the door to the Sun Room. She was in a sleek one-piece swimsuit with a damp towel around her waist, hair dripping wet, and itching to murder someone. "You summoned me? You couldn't wait until I finished my workout?"

Surge, to his credit, hobbled toward her and held his head high. "Woman, don't start."

"Oh, don't you 'woman' me, old man." Violet looked around. "Oh, I see what's going on. You fed up with acting like a normal person already?"

Surge blushed. "You and I gotta very different understandin' of what's normal." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why the fuck did I agree to this?"

Violet studied him, her anger evaporating, and looped her arm through his. Water dripped from the ends of her bangs onto his shoulder. She spoke softly so no one would overhear them. "Because you're the best in Kanto, and those kids need you and Chuck. Hell, the whole continent needs you. Not Blaine, you."

Surge scowled deeply and scratched the uneven stubble that grew around his scar.

"Those kids, they've got a lot of ideas and a lot of heart. But the Gym Leaders are young, here and in Johto. My sister's just twenty-two, and she's not even the youngest. They need someone to point 'em down the right path, direct all that passion where it'll help out the most." She grinned in the way she knew would get her whatever she wanted from the normally intransigent Surge. "Even an old man's got his uses."

Surge gripped his walking stick, his knuckles turning white. Raichu looked up at him, ears drooping. "I am getting old for this."

Violet grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at her, a couple inches taller than him. "Not to me." Her eyes drifted over his shoulder to Ash, who felt her gaze and waved to her. "And not to them, either."

Before he could pull away, she planted a big, wet kiss on Surge's cheek, dripping more water on his jacket.

"I'm gonna go shower real quick, then I'll be back down, okay? Think you can brave the big, bad kids alone for twenty more minutes?"

Surge was still red in the face, but this time not from anger. "Away with you, woman."

Violet pulled her towel around her shoulders and gave him a nice view of the backs of her bare legs.

"I'll wear something nice," she said, winking as though she could hear his thoughts.

"Here." Ethan picked a Pokéball from his belt and released it.

In a flash of white light, Ethan's Ampharos coalesced on its hind legs. It was a big Pokémon, nearly six feet tall with a long neck and longer tail. Its black and yellow skin was rubbery, but the scarlet pearls on its tail and forehead pulsed faintly with carefully controlled electrical energy. Ampharos could store more electricity without the need to discharge than any other Electric Pokémon in the world. It was small wonder that it had earned its nickname, the Light Pokémon.

"Amphy's been with me since Olivine. Hah, uh, well that's a long story for another time. Jasmine's probably still pretty steamed after what happened... But anyway, Amphy came with me after we hightailed it outta there. She's an old Pokémon, about forty, I think, but Ampharos live more'n a hundred years. Crazy, huh? Where was I going with this... Oh, right!"

Ethan handed over Ampharos's Pokéball to Lily.

"Take Amphy for me. She's a good Pokémon, one of my best, but she likes lounging and stuff, not all the runnin' around me and Jolteon do. So I figure she deserves a break, and she'd like it up here. And that way, we'll have a proper trade for Pichu. Say yes?"

Lily stood up and had to look up at Ampharos. She'd never seen one in real life, only in pictures. They were exceedingly rare, taking decades to evolve from their prior evolutionary form, Flaafy. "But Amphy's one of your best Pokémon, you just said so. I can't take your best one!"

"Take it, little lady," Chuck said, having overheard the conversation. "Ampharos is a Dragon descendant. I hear you're pretty good with the half breeds."

He was looking at her carefully, the usual smile on the verge of laughter nothing but a memory, and Lily got a chill. She had refused to talk about her battle with Lance to anyone other than the people closest to her. But everyone knew how Titans fought, and news of Ash's Charizard's death had gotten out upon their return to Cinnabar. Ash had been devastated all over again when Marla casually mentioned that she'd be happy to start drilling him in flying lessons once he was back to a hundred percent.

But Chuck said it like he knew the whole story. Maybe he did. These things had a way of getting out and bubbling over. He must have sensed her hesitation because he smiled his regular smile and slapped her amiably on the back, nearly knocking her over.

"Anyway, Ethan could use the challenge of bringing a baby Pokémon up. He's goin' soft."

Ethan shrugged. "Soft? Nah, I still got it. I even smashed Pryce's ice mask before Lyra could. You'da been proud, Master."

Chucked roared with laughter. "That Lyra girl's got balls, I liked her. You could learn something from her!"

Ash's hand on Lily's shoulder made her jump. It was cold and misted with violet. Gengar's lurid eyes prickled the skin on the back of her neck, and the beginnings of a cackle began to fill the wide room.

"Lily," Ash said.

"It's okay," Lily said, smiling brightly. "Hey, I'm gonna go introduce Amphy to Tiny and Shiny."

Ash's grip on her shoulder tightened just so at the mention of the pink Dragonair—Lance's Dragonair. He hadn't said anything about her deciding to keep Shiny, but he wasn't enthusiastic, either. They never spoke about Lance, not after she'd told him everything about her battle. At first, Lily had chalked up his strange silence to Charizard's death. She didn't blame him. It was Ivy that suggested otherwise.

"Don't mention Lance or the Titan stuff around him too much," she'd said. "There are some things you never understand about another person, and that can hurt some people more than others."

Lily didn't really get it. She didn't understand what it must be like to be a Medium, to live with the knowledge that one day, Ash would be the last one standing of all the people and Pokémon he'd ever loved, alone in his existence after watching the ones he loved die before him. It didn't change how she felt about him. But Ivy had a way of looking at a person and picking out the darkest part of their heart. We are all as good and as bad as the darkest corner of our hearts, the loneliest secret that we carry until the end. It is the only thing we take with us, and the only thing we have left when everything else falls away.

Ash blinked and smiled at her, then pecked her on the cheek. "Sounds good. I'm gonna go shower. See you at dinner?"

Lily returned his smile and playfully batted the bill of his ratty, red cap. "You bet."

She watched him go. Surge had discreetly retired to the sitting room, presumably to pour himself a drink before Chuck could consume it all. The man was a tank, and no matter how much alcohol he consumed, he was hardly ever inebriated and remained in top physical health.

Bellators, Lily thought. Now there's a medical miracle.

"I'll be back down in just a minute," Lily said to Ethan. "We can talk business after dinner. I know Lt. Surge was eager to hear about what's happening with Marco's purge."

"No problem," Ethan said. "I've got Lyra's latest report from them right here." He patted the satchel strapped to his waist and thigh. "Short version? They're crushin' it."

"Then I guess we'll have a nice evening. I could use that."

Lily recalled Ampharos and headed back upstairs to the Saffron Solar, which she shared with Ash. The sounds of the shower in the connecting bathroom were muffled through the heavy, wooden doors, and she didn't announce her presence. Instead, she went back outside to the balcony, a little surprised to find both Dragonair still there. She thought for sure they would fly off and spend the night out.

They had been curled up on the carpet, perfectly at ease in the cool night air, but Shiny immediately spooked and slithered out of reach of Tiny when she heard Lily's approach.

"Hey, guys. Did I wake you up? Sorry about that."

She selected Ampharos's Pokéball, which was marked with a glow sticker that emanated a soft, yellow-green light in the starlight, and tossed it out. Ampharos appeared in the swirl of light, and the two Dragonair remained at a distance. Ampharos balanced on its long hind legs, the thick but blunt toenails on its feet digging into the rug Lily had laid out. Its fin-like front paws concealed small, nail-tipped fingers, almost like sleeves, that it could curl up to deliver powerful Thunderpunches in battle. The pearl on its tail, as big as a Pidgey egg, glowed softly and cast just the right amount of light on the balcony. The Dragonair's shadows projected on the stone railing like writhing serpents, coiled to strike at any moment.

"Amphy's gonna be joining us for a while. Amphy, this is Tiny," Lily pointed from Tiny to the pink Dragonair, "and that's Shiny."

Ampharos, a seasoned veteran of battles and long used to humans, hardly showed any signs of distress at its unfamiliar surroundings. Lily reached out a hand for it, and its striped ears perked up. She hesitated.

"You... You know what I am, right?"

Ampharos cocked its head and watched her with dark, depthless eyes, and as Lily stared back, she knew. She could see it. Millennia had diluted Ampharos's blood, just as they had diluted Lily's, but she could see it all the same. The Old Blood ran slowly in Ampharos's veins, quietly, never impatient and never restless, just there under the surface waiting to quicken. She could quicken it. All it would take was a simple word or two, the wave of a hand, something to jog its memory, let the magic do the rest. She'd gotten better at this since back then.

But she let her hand drop. "I don't wanna control you."

Ampharos yawned and let out a tired sigh, a bit like a sleepy canine. Lily could wait. She was patient, too. For now, Ampharos could adjust in its own time, on its own terms. She wouldn't force it. Never again.

She walked to the railing and leaned over the edge. The chill nipped her through her sweater, little thorns poking her through the woven threads, but she didn't mind the bite. Across the valley of Indigo Plateau, over the sea of lights in the village, lay the the mountains. The tallest of which was a dark behemoth that reached beyond the clouds and the stars and dared to oppose the moon in its ominous breadth. Mt. Silver, the heart of the badlands north of Indigo Plateau, was the only thing separating human civilization from the untamed wilds where even a Dragon Master might not make it out alive.

Shiny slithered carefully around Lily's feet and let its winged head hover just next to Lily's, following her gaze out to darkness.

"What do you see out there?" she whispered.

They never did find a body. Washed away to the bottom of the sea, the Orange Navy commander said in the official statement. Not a trace of Lance left. Not even he could take on the might of the ocean and survive.

But they never did find a body.

Shiny lifted its head, wings alert like ears, and let out a mournful note that reverberated to the pit of Lily's heart. Beautiful, in the way heartbreak is beautiful so long as it isn't happening to you. Tiny added its own song to Shiny's, their cries tuning to each other for a beat here, then shifting the next.

Is there anyone out there?

The darkness rippled but never parted, swallowing even Ampharos's searchlights. Even if someone or something was out there, they would never find the beacon across this black ocean. They would never find her. But there was no one there. No one would have survived such a drowning, not even him. Especially not him. She'd watched, she'd seen him as he heard her call out to him, reach for him, offering just as he'd offered to her.

An ocean apart, vast and growing and black as the tidal abyss. There was no surviving that.

"There's no surviving that," Ash had promised her, and they never spoke of it again.

The two Dragonair quieted down, their song dying on the cold night wind, washed away in the darkness. Only the night winds echoed them, as soft and chilly as a scorned lover's whispers.

"You could stay with me."

"Hey, is that you, Lily?" Ash called from inside the room. "D'you know where I left my towel? I'm totally freezing and I don't wanna drip water everywhere, you know?"

Lily jumped at the sound of Ash's voice and suddenly registered that she was shivering. It was freezing out here. She recalled all her Pokémon.

"I'm coming!" she called back. "Just a sec."

Lily hastily gathered up the blanket she'd brought out and wrapped it around her shoulders. The wind ruffled her ponytail, still short from when a mind-controlled Aerodactyl had almost Air Slashed her to pieces. She pulled open the door to the balcony against the winds.

"You could stay..."

She shivered, his voice in her ear as clear as the day he'd tempted her, and she slammed the doors closed behind her. The winds died down, locked out, and the darkness faded behind the thick curtains. Ash's towel was folded with the clean laundry she hadn't put away yet, and she tossed her blanket on a couch and retrieved the towel. She was alone and safe in the light.

"Alone?" Lance chuckled in her ear.

"Lily? Hey, is that my towel?" Ash poked his sopping head out around the door to the bathroom, letting out the steam trapped inside.

She swallowed and did her best to smile, and held out the towel with a shaking hand. "Yup, right here."

"But you're here."

She dropped the towel, but Ash caught it. "Thanks! I'll be like two more minutes."

Ash closed the door, and Lily was alone again, her scarred hand trembling. Alone.

Save for him.

She could feel his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her cheeks, his bloody thumb running over her lip. Shaking, Lily rubbed her mouth with her sleeve furiously.

"Okay, ready to go down? I'm starving!" a clean and changed Ash said as he bounded out the bathroom door enthusiastically.

He grabbed Lily's hand and didn't wait for an answer.

"Yeah," Lily said.

She squeezed his hand, and their footsteps echoed in the stone stairwell behind them until they, too, faded, drowned in the darkness left behind, and Lily fought the temptation to look back.

This has been an incredible journey for me both writing this epic and hearing from and getting to know the reviewers that so graciously and thoughtfully shared their thoughts and emotions reading this with me. This is also technically the first multi-chapter fic I have ever finished, which I think means something really important. This story had to be told, and I am so happy I had the resolve to finish it. The reviewers are to thank in large part for keeping me going!

As you can probably guess due to Rosa's and now Iris's small roles in this story, an official sequel to this fic will transport us all to Unova for some new and very different adventures and challenges. Ash will be back for it, as well. I hope you will all check out that fic, entitled Clash of Crowns, if you enjoyed this fic and my writing style in general. Another short sequel, entitled Elephant Graveyard, will directly pick up where this left off and follow some post-fic adventures about Lily, Ash, and others and resolve Mewtwo's story with some fun (or perhaps nail-biting) twists on the way. I also have a few other Pokémon fics in the wings, all set in the same realistic Pokémon/Tamers AU developed here but that stand alone plot-wise, so this is not my last foray into the fandom by any means.

Thanks again for reading, everyone! It's been real.