Hi guys! I'm sorry for not putting up a new chapter/story sooner, but here's a 6 chapter fic for you. My time lately has been divided between traveling, applying for colleges, and basically trying to keep my life from exploding into tiny little pieces. At any rate... here's what I've been working on for the last few days- when I've had the time, of course. Inspired by the Pokemon Gold game that I found online!

Disclaimer: Up up where we go, where we stop nobody knows.. oh wait, yeah, I own nothing.

Lance is bored.

There's just no other word for it. He's tried coming up with synonyms for it, but there's no other word that quite as accurately describes how listless he is. Ennui just sounds too boring, he's not world-weary, and by the time he's ready to write down the third word, his mind has wandered off to more pleasant things he could have been doing.

Clair always scoffs when he talks to her about it – or tries to, at least. Trainers? They never make it past me. Or to me, for that matter.

Which, sadly, is true, Lance reflects. We need a challenge, he once mentions to Clair during one of their nightly calls.

No, you need a challenge, Clair corrects. I'm fine with thrashing the poor things.

Lance raises an eyebrow. You don't think you could improve your skills? he asks skeptically.

He can almost hear Clair shrug. That's what the Dragon Den is for.

A total lie, Lance thinks to himself, because all the dragons in that den would roll over, hop on one foot, do acrobatic tricks and then play dead for Clair, and she knows it.

...

Lance finds out later that it's not just him that's chafing at the drought of trainers coming through the Elite Four doors. Morty strolls in one day, casually mentioning that he hasn't gotten a single challenger in five months, and then plonks down Monopoly onto Lance's desk on top of the paperwork that Lance had been trying to finish (or at least, successfully procrastinate again).

Lance scowls at the serene Ecruteak Gym Leader, but ends up playing a round (several rounds, actually) with Morty, Karen, Will, and Chuck.

Falkner calls on Fridays to give his report, because he is usually the first sentry that all trainers face before they go on to tougher Gym Leaders. Lance never says it, but he knows that Falkner understands his vulnerability, raising only Flying types and all. He's suggested that maybe Falkner change up his attacking type a bit, but the floppy-haired Gym Leader only gives him a look reminiscent of Lance's Gyrados when he forgets to feed it. Since then, Lance hasn't touched the subject.

But, he reckons now, if even Falkner is calling in to say that he hasn't gotten any challengers, either Falkner is getting radically better or the trainers are just getting stupider. And Lance tends not to lean towards the former option, because he's paid a visit to Falkner's Gym. He knows how it works. And he doubts that new challengers will have that hard a time getting through it.

So yes. The elite trainers in Johto are bored. Lance seriously considers retiring from his Champion post and going to find that infernal Red wherever he is on Mt Silver, because he bets that it's way more exciting up on top of a windy, snowy mountain than anything down here.

...

Lance is in the middle of a chess game with Pryce one day when the call comes. "What?" he drawls into his office phone.

Falkner's voice comes over the line. "Lance?"

"No," Lance says rather irritably, "it's Dragonite. I learned how to talk and imitate my master's voice."

Pryce waggles a warning finger at him, and Lance rolls his eyes. "No trainers, Falkner?" he asks, getting right to the point as usual.

So he is pleasantly surprised when Falkner tells him about someone who actually seems a challenger, who's beaten all of Falkner's trainers and Falkner himself with a single blow. Eh, he figures after thanking Falkner and hanging up on the Violet City Gym Leader. It's Falkner.

Pryce moves his bishop and takes out another one of Lance's pawns. "A trainer?" he asks, interest coloring his tone.

Lance moves his rook and checkmates Pryce. "Yes, a trainer. But he'll probably never make it past Bugsy."

...

But he is wrong. Bugsy calls the Sunday after Falkner's first call, informing Lance that this kid (Gold, Bugsy thinks it is) has won his challenge. Gold apparently has a Cyndaquil that is ridiculously loyal to its master, attacking and scratching all of Bugsy's unfortunate Pokemon to pieces. Lance is forced to wait through Bugsy's long-winded explanations of how Gold silently issued his instructions, and what attack each Pokemon used, and how fluidly and gracefully they moved without sacrificing tenacity and viciousness-

-until finally, Lance snaps. "I get it," he says, and Bugsy stops in his rhapsody of describing how Cyndaquil moved across the field. "How many Pokemon did he have left when he won?"

Bugsy doesn't have to stop and think about it, because he is a born researcher and he knows how to observe things quickly. "All of them."

"All of them?" Lance asks in disbelief.

"I know, I was surprised too!" And Bugsy launches into another description of how Gold's Hoothoot soared into the sky before pouncing on his Beedrill.

Lance leaves the phone on speaker for the rest of the call, only making grunts when Bugsy pauses for breath. He is intrigued, he does admit to himself, but he wonders if this challenger is a fluke shot, a taunt by the universe. After all, Bugsy might be no lightweight, but he is also one of the weaker Gym Leaders in Lance's opinion. Not that Bugsy minds, though, since he is forever studying Pokemon instead of training a different variety.

At any rate, Lance spends a little bit more time than usual that afternoon training his Pokemon. A little bit of hard work never hurt anyone, he figures.

...

"Arceus, you're worried," Clair says when he calls her at eight that night. "Why are you worried? You're a dragon user."

"I'm not worried," Lance says defensively.

"So then why have we spent half an hour talking about a kid who's beaten two of the weakest Gym Leaders so far?"

"Be nice, Clair," is Lance's automatic response.

"It's not a matter of being nice. It's a matter of stating the facts, dear cousin."

"Falkner and Bugsy have their strengths," Lance tries to point out.

"If the entire world revolved around Flying types and Bug types, then yeah, they have their strengths." Clair sounds annoyed. "Think about it. We haven't had a challenger in months. Now that a kid shows up and takes out the first two Gym Leaders, you think he's going to come along and be the next best thing around here?"

Lance shrugs. "Stranger things have happened."

Clair sighs loudly, and Lance is reminded of why everyone always stays far away from Clair whenever there is a Gym Leader convention in Johto. Clair is terrifying, especially so when her level of impatience is through the roof. "Whatever," Clair says in response to Lance. "Be paranoid. You feed Gyarados everyday and you're paranoid about a kid. Whitney will take care of him, you'll see." And then Lance hears his cousin mutter, "If she doesn't chase him away by her constant whining, that is."

His phone beeps, and Lance glances at his screen. "Whitney's calling," he says, and Clair deadpans, "Joy." She hangs up without a goodbye, and Lance rolls his eyes, like he does every night.

He flips to his other line, and is greeted by someone sobbing on the other end of the phone line. Lance sighs inaudibly. "What's happened now, Whitney?" he asks, trying to sound patient.

"He beat me!" Whitney sobs.

Lance's eyebrow rises. "Gold?"

"Yes, him! I don't believe it! My Miltank!" Whitney is sobbing loudly, and Lance is tempted to reach through the phone and smack her to shut her up. But he restrains himself, instead choosing to carefully ask, "Did you give him a good fight?"

"Did I! Of course I did!" Whitney's tone shifts from sad to indignant, and Lance is aware that if he makes a faulty move, Whitney might just shift into furious mode. A furious Whitney is never a good thing, Lance remembers- the last time she was really angry, she had scared even Chuck- and Chuck is not easily scared.

"I'm sure you were just unlucky," Lance tries to soothe Whitney. "Did he use Potions?"

"No!" Whitney sniffles.

Lance raises an eyebrow. "He didn't use a Potion?"

"I don't even think he had any! I almost had him, I almost won! But his Cyndaquil was so… so… so…" Whitney bursts out in tears again.

Lance sighs, tugging his hair. "Mean?" he suggests.

"Yes, that!"

Typical, Lance figures. Every Pokemon Whitney lost to would be considered mean, even if it was a Jigglypuff wearing a ballet tutu and waving a balloon.

...

He gives Morty a call the next day to try and figure out what the Ecruteak Gym Leader thinks- or predicts. Lance wonders sometimes if Morty cheats when he "sees the future", or so he claims, but so far he hasn't found any evidence of that… yet. At any rate, Lance picks up the phone to try and probe Morty about what he sees.

"I sense that this is about Gold," is the first thing Morty says when he answers Lance's call.

"Did you use your psychic powers to figure that out?" Lance asks, knowing that his tone might be construed as sarcasm to others with less patience than the Ecruteak Gym Leader.

"No," Morty says with some amusement, "but Falkner has already called me about Gold, and I hear from my Ghost Pokemon that Gold has just defeated Whitney. Common sense therefore dictates that he will come to me next."

"What do you see, then?" Lance puts Morty on speakerphone while he paces to the window overlooking the gardens outside the League.

"Ah," Morty says with some regret, "and that I cannot predict yet."

"You're a psychic, and you can't tell if a child is going to defeat you?" Lance wants to know.

"I sense that he is no ordinary child. The spirits tell me that he is of New Bark Town, a child reminiscent of the last Champion- what is his name? Crimson? Magenta?"

"Red," Lance corrects, knowing that Morty is tacking on the last two parts to tease him. "What do you mean, reminiscent of the last Champion?"

"That, I cannot yet foresee."

"What can you foresee, exactly?" Lance demands.

Morty chuckles. "I foresee that he is about to reach the door of my Gym…now." And Lance hears the soft chime of a bell. He can almost hear Morty's satisfied smile. "Time to go. I will let you know the extent of his prowess."

...

It takes Gold two tries, but apparently he learns quickly. Within a day, he comes back and attacks Morty with the same Pokemon, but according to the lanky Gym Leader, the boy sure knows how to think on his feet. Morty recounts how Haunter took out most of Gold's Pokemon before Cyndaquil attacked Haunter with a well-timed Flamethrower. "And he just stood there," Morty says thoughtfully as he reports to Lance. "It was like he didn't need to speak for his Pokemon to understand."

"What do you think, then?"

Morty hesitates as he mulls things over in his mind. Lance is okay with that, because he too likes to deliberate on answers. Finally, Morty answers with the answer Lance had been hoping to hear:

"I think he's the one. We've finally got a challenge on our hands."

reviews as always, greatly appreciated. :) thanks for reading!