Foreword: This was originally intended to be a one-shot, but then expanded into a full-fledged story. Cyrus simply gets more and more out of character the more the story progresses, due to my horrible ability to keep characters in character, and I apologize beforehand. On the other hand, Dawn's characterization is of my own creation, since the anime moved to CN and I stopped watching at Battle Frontier; it is slightly influenced by Pokémon Adventures' Platinum Berlitz. Additionally, this fic includes a few of my own ideas about how the Pokémon world works, which carry the high probability of not making sense to anyone else other than myself. Should you come across one of these, please feel free to express your concerns. I also have a bad habit of contradicting myself in my work, quite unintentionally.

With that in mind, enjoy the horrible plotline that sounds like some deranged fangirl threw it together!

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1

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Without the presence of Giratina, the Distortion World was rather peaceful. Though the unusual gravity made navigation difficult, the lack of a real flow of time made any haste meaningless. There was barely any sound, apart from the waterfall's constant flow, and the sound of his own footsteps. And while the utter absence of any other sort of life form might have made another feel lonely, Cyrus simply felt at ease. After all, this world was akin to what he had strived to create. All his life, he'd despised the company of others, realizing that such companionship resulted only in a mutual exploitation.

He'd used this to exploit a countless number of people, assimilating them into the ranks of Team Galactic with promises of glory and fulfillment, and found his observations of human weakness manifested in every encounter with one of the team members. The newest of the recruits, the strongest of the grunts, and even his self-appointed, fanatic Commanders were incompetent and incomplete. All the more reason for him to create his new world, to erase the imperfection that was the human world.

And yet, despite the perfect calculations, the immense effort and manipulation, the years of waiting, it had all fallen apart.

Cyrus had gone over the events of the world of reality in his mind over and over again, the memories a constant vexation in an otherwise surreal existence. Everything should have worked, and it would have, he had concluded, had it not been for a young girl named Dawn.

The sheer gall of the girl, to almost single-handedly ruin his plan, still gave him a cacophony of emotions. Simply dwelling on the memory of her actions would elicit responses that he had long deemed as useless, but try as he might, Cyrus could not shut her out of his mind.

It had always been that way, ever since had first encountered the girl at Lake Verity. In passing, she had registered as nothing more than a foolish child following a foolish dream, still deluded into thinking the world was a wonderful place. It hadn't been until their first battle, and the fiery determination in her eyes as she prevented him from disfiguring the mural within Celestic Town, did Dawn become prevalent in his thoughts. At first, Cyrus had dismissed it as the sting of being defeated, something that was insignificant compared to the completion of his plans, but in his meditations here in the Distortion World, he'd come to realize something else.

He had allowed Dawn to get this far.

When Mars first reported being defeated by a young girl, he should have eliminated Dawn from the picture. Why hadn't he? If not then, why not after Jupiter's defeat in Eterna City? True, his Commanders were still weak, and at that time Dawn had not seemed much of a threat, arriving far too late to make a difference, but he had let that slide. Even when it became apparent that Dawn would not stop meddling in their affairs, even after she had beat him down in Celestic Town, he'd sent his grunts after her knowing that they would fail, rather than use more guaranteed means. Had almost balked and lost his composure when Charon suggested that they shoot Dawn, even if it was only in the leg to cripple her.

And so she had defeated him yet again, there in the headquarters. The building was nothing more than a tribute to the ugliness of the world, yet within those walls Cyrus faltered. Playing the part of a storybook villain, he had exposed his plans to her, told her exactly what he was going to do, and then to top it off, gave her the Master Ball with which she later capture Giratina. True, the Master Ball had become useless after it was revealed that encasing Dialga and Palkia within them would have diminished their powers, but he had handed to his enemy the exact thing she needed to seal his defeat, rather than trap her there, or kill her. He, Cyrus, had been prepared to destroy the world, and in the end he couldn't bring himself to eliminate one meddlesome girl.

He had to admit, he was intrigued. What drove her to such lengths to protect such a weak world? How could someone propelled by something as hollow as sentimentality still be so strong?

Dawn was his antithesis, and in the end, she had shown him to be wrong. This Distortion World had not disappeared upon Giratina's capture, and though he had vowed to find another way to achieve his dream, Cyrus knew it was now impossible. Dawn had defeated him, both his plans and his resolve. She had revealed that he still held emotions in his heart, and had drawn them out with her determination and strength. Their last encounter had been a struggle for the Galactic leader, as he tried to suppress the thrill of battling with such a skilled opponent, and had finally succumbed to the hatred in his heart.

And even then, when Dawn captured Giratina and spelled an end to his dream, Cyrus had done nothing to her. Not that he hadn't tried, but his finger refused to pull the trigger, as he took aim from afar. A wide open shot that hadn't been taken. Cyrus still didn't know what had stayed his hand, nor why he still kept the gun even though there was nothing to shoot apart from himself. It would be foolishness to commit suicide, but the thought still crossed his mind on occasion.

Neither had he parted with his Pokémon, though they had not been released from the confines ever since he had lost to Dawn. There was no point in doing so. Being in the Distortion World rid one of the need to eat, or do any other metabolic process. One simply existed.

Wasn't it what he had wanted? Cyrus wanted to say yes, but then why did he seem to yearn for something more?

Having walked across the dimension many, many times, Cyrus was accustomed to absently wandering about the paths. One in particular seemed more traversed than the others, well-worn by his own footsteps, and ending where his dream had ended, in sight of the twinkling, swirling portal that lead to the world of reality. With no wind to stir things up, the evidence of the battle between him and Dawn were still there, preserved for however long he had been here, yet another insistent reminder of his own failure.

But today there was one more…

The light from the portal intensified for a second, and when it had faded, two figures stood in front of him. One was a Floatzel, with fangs bared and orange fur on end, the powerful tails swishing.

The other was unmistakably Dawn.

Though she had grown taller, and was no longer as child-like in stature as Cyrus remembered, the look in her eyes was the same as it was back then; resolved, and afire with her own will. As their gazes met, he took a step back.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

It seemed that, of its own accord, Cyrus' hand had grabbed the gun from his waist and taken aim at her. Dawn's eyes narrowed, but she showed no fear. "I'm here to bring you back to the world of reality," she replied evenly.

"I have no wish to leave."

"You assume I'm giving you a choice in the matter."

The challenge behind her words was familiar, but Cyrus wondered how she would accomplish her objective. Being shorter in stature, and physically weaker, she could not carry him out against his wishes. And though her Pokémon were more than capable of the job, what would she gain from such an act? Not to mention that he was still pointing a gun at her…

"Is there a reason that you want me to leave?" His voice was less steady than he would have liked, but he hoped Dawn wouldn't notice.

"It's been decided that you cannot remain here any longer. Giratina doesn't like the idea of you messing around in its home, while the beings of emotion, willpower, and knowledge all think you need to be punished."

He laughed. All his life, he had been shown the ugliness of the world, and here it was again. Punishment, for trying to create perfection, to erase the hideous amalgamation that was spirit.

"But while I agree that you shouldn't stay here, and that trying to destroy the world is a high crime, I don't want to hand you over to Looker, and lock you up for the rest of your life." Dawn stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "These past years, I've been thinking a lot about you. Why were you so keen on getting rid of spirit? What drove you to believe it was so bad?"

Her statement took Cyrus aback. He'd always assumed that Dawn would forget him, having already saved her world from destruction, but for her to admit that he was in her thoughts, just as he often thought of her, it awed him.

"So I decided that I would be the one to administer this 'punishment', that I would take you back to the world you tried to destroy, and then show you what spirit is. While it is true that spirit is rage, hatred, it is also patience and love." Dawn took the final step, close enough that she could have reached out and touched the gun that Cyrus held. "This compassion that you scorned me for, it is that too. And you, who has shunned the world for its spirit, you have obviously never been shown the gentle side of spirit. All that I have ever seen from you is hatred, but I believe that you, too, can love."

Her naivety would have been laughable, had it not been for the seriousness of her dark eyes, and the determined set of her jaw. Cyrus wished to counter her words, but he could not deny the truth in them.

"You're a-" he started to say.

Faster than he had anticipated, or perhaps because he'd been distracted by Dawn's words, the Floatzel pounced on him, and the shot went wild, the sound echoing loudly in the emptiness. Cyrus landed on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. He was aware that another one of Dawn's Pokémon, her Gallade, had appeared to help hold him down. Now, he could only watch as Dawn bent down to pick up the Poké Balls that had fallen from his belt.

"Chill, you five. I'm not going to hurt your trainer," she told the Pokémon within them, who could been seen through the semi-transparent tops of the capsules. "Calm down. I'm sure you guys want to get out of here too."

For some reason, her words didn't manage to placate his raging Pokémon, but Dawn simply latched the Poké Balls onto her belt as if they were her own, and turned to kneel by Cyrus, taking something out from her bag.

"The lake guardians were most eager to help me," she continued. "And so they helped me craft this variant of the Red Chain you made from their gems. Since you're not Dialga or Palkia, it should suffice. I'm quite sure you know what it does."

She'd wrapped the chain around his left wrist, and as Cyrus watched, with a growing sense of dread in his stomach, it faded away into nothingness. He did indeed know what the chain that now connected them would allow Dawn to do. He had used his knowledge and willpower, the essences of Uxie and Azelf, to secure the masters of time and space, but Dawn would use both those and emotions, the essence of Mesprit, to now be able to control him.

Her Floatzel and Gallade released their hold on him, returning to Dawn's side, and Cyrus sat up warily. He couldn't feel the chain, but…

"Come," Dawn said, turning and walking towards the portal. . Her Pokémon dashed to her side, and she did not turn around to see if he came. Because again, she had won, and though he willed himself not to, Cyrus rose, and followed her out of the Distortion World. Ironic, and appropriate, that the chain made of spirit would be what forced him to do her bidding, just as he had used spirit to rally Team Galactic to his will.

The sunlight stung his eyes, and the shift in gravity made him lose balance, reeling against the mountain wall. A hand grasped his arm, guiding him up the precarious slope as his vision adjusted to a world of light.

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I couldn't catch my breath
Or calculate my death
Design of secret lace
And now I'm lost in space
And now it comes to this

I'll close the door
There's no one home
I'll catch my breath
But why half live?