Professor Rowan was, simultaneously, a lot taller and intimidating that Metchi was expecting, and also kind of a huge softie.

He walked around the small living room with a hum on his lips as he prepared coffee for both of them. Behind him, on the stove top, the kettle whistled and spat a constant jet of steam. A tray of Kalosian muffins was gently levitated toward Metchi by the careful psychic touch of the professor's Alakazam, whose body from the chest down was covered by a soft pink apron emblazoned with 'Please stay away from the cook'.

Metchi sat on her chair and unconsciously tried to make herself smaller, hands resting on her lap. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

She would have almost preferred the professor being hostile and questioning from the start instead of… whatever this was. Almost. As it was, he had welcomed her with open arms to his apartment. True, he froze for a moment when he opened the door and saw her. Most people did lately, since she hadn't gotten the chance to shave or buy foundation or fix herself up for a couple weeks now, what with all the almost dying and such. Still, it had only lasted a moment. He had cleared his throat and politely asked what was her name and what she wanted as though nothing had happened. It had made it hurt less, and Metchi appreciated that.

He deals with young trainers all the time so he's probably met a few trans kids already, she reminded herself. Though probably none as old as me.

"Ah. Perfect pour as usual, my friend." Rowan's mustache twitched ever so slightly, hiding a smile underneath as he grabbed the cups from his Alakazam. "How do you prefer your coffee, Metchi? I'm afraid I only have milk, sugar and cream right now."

Only? What the fuck else could you possibly put in coffee?

She shook her head. "S' fine. I just came here to give you the papers anyway."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to keep a guest for longer than they wish, and forgive me for my rashness, but I have never seen someone who looks like they need a good cup of coffee more than you, young lady."

Metchi blinked, then looked down at just… whatever was that passed for her clothes and herself in general. She sighed.

"…Fair. I'll take it dark, then."

She drank the entirety of the contents of her cup, half of a glass of water and ate three of the eight muffins before her now satisfied brain reminded her that she was supposed to be the one to open the conversation. Rowan didn't seem to mind the wait much, luckily, and neither did his Alakazam. Both sipped their cups slowly, enjoying an occasional and careful bite of a muffin. She supposed they had to be careful, lest they get a bunch of crumbs all over their mustaches.

"Uh… anyway, sorry for coming here out of nowhere," she said. "Don't have a phone or a Poketch so I couldn't really… contact you beforehand, I guess."

"It's no trouble," he replied. "You're lucky to have found me here today, though. I'm only in Canalave for a few weeks due to a scientific meeting, you see."

Metchi nodded. "Right. I'd heard you were here, so I came to bring you… this."

She gestured toward a brown folder resting on the table in front of the man.

"So… this is what Willow left behind, then." Rowan picked up the folder and squinted at it. "To think he was being threatened by Team Galactic… it certainly explains why he'd been so absent in the scientific community those last few months."

Ah, right. Willow. It wasn't that she had forgotten about him since –technically speaking– she had been responsible for his death, but there was only so much time in the day one could devote to feeling guilty when 'surviving past tomorrow' was a pipe dream at best. So no, she hadn't exactly been wracked with grief over what she'd done lately, even if she should have been.

"I'm… really sorry," she said. "If I hadn't stolen those papers he'd probably be alive now."

Rowan shook his head.

"You're not to blame, Metchi. Willow's death was not by your hand." He opened the folder and began to skim through it absentmindedly. "It was an unfortunate event, and even more proof that Team Galactic needs to be stopped, no matter the cost. Your bravery in going against them speaks volumes of your character."

It was really, really fucking hard not to laugh. Her? Brave? If the tone of his voice weren't so earnest she would have thought that he was making fun of her.

"I'm with you on the whole stopping Galactic thing," she said. "Though… that's on you guys now. I'm done with it."

Rowan nodded to himself. "I assume that's why you've chosen now to bring me these papers, instead of right after you came into possession of them?"

Fuck. Now that was exactly what she didn't want to be asked… again. She was supposed to fall on the professor's good side, dammit. But how could she explain that she had absolutely no faith in him or the Association and that coming here had been her last resort? Maybe if she spun it in a gentler way…

"I… guess I was afraid that the papers would fall on the wrong hands," she said, feigning innocence. "Not that I don't trust you, professor, but I wanted to be careful."

"An understandable fear," he replied. "But an unfounded one. I promise I will do everything in my power not to let untrustworthy eyes fall upon this information."

Yeah, sure, promises. Because those always mean a lot, don't they? Metchi thought bitterly.

"Anyway…" She cleared her throat, wanting to change the subject. "Please tell me you can read what that says. If you can't then I think I'll just throw myself to the sea and be done with it, what with all the trouble I had coming here."

Rowan let out a deep, Ursaring-like laugh, the tips of his mustache twitching. "Ah… don't you worry, young lady. Engineering isn't exactly my field of expertise, but I know a lot of trustworthy people who could decipher these blueprints in no time." He took another look at the biggest one, full of white on blue shapes that Metchi had no hope of interpreting. "I assume this is the prototype of some sort of machine?"

She shrugged. "I guess? All I know is that it's really important to them, and it's what they needed all that electricity they stole for."

At that Rowan perked up, his eyes widening a bit.

"You mean the Windworks incident?"

"Yeah. All that electricity is meant to power that thing." She pointed lazily at the blueprint. "That's what they told us anyway."

Rowan's eyebrows formed a bridge over his nose as he stared down at the blueprint, his shoulders tightening for a moment. An intimidating sight, were it not because she'd seen him humming and cooking like a househusband not ten minutes before.

Still, he seemed to have come to some sort of realization. That expression betrayed it; it was one she'd seen a lot of times in people who were smarter than her, people who actually… thought stuff through and didn't throw themselves at whatever problems they had head-on like the dumb-ass she was.

"If that alone is meant to power this machine…" He began to mutter, still frowning. "…then what about the Eterna incident?"

Metchi couldn't help but frown at the name. Her hand unconsciously went to her stomach, where that scar was.

"Could you shine some light on this, young lady?" he asked, his tone as polite as anything. "You must know what their plan is, considering you were part of their ranks."

It was amazing the way he said that, with absolutely no malice or bitterness or… any negative emotion in his voice. He talked about her having been a terrorist as though it was nothing. Just a small mistake. Something she could atone for, even if she knew full well that was impossible.

She bit her lip and breathed in. This one would be difficult.

"They obviously don't tell us everything; otherwise a lot more people would've turned tail and ran," she said. "As far as I know, Cyrus needs a few concrete before he can complete his plan."

"And that would be…?"

Okay… okay. She thought she remembered everything. "Well… like I said, they need to build whatever machine this blueprint shows and also that energy they got from the Windworks. Also obviously Mesprit, Azelf and Uxie, like I told you before." She paused, looking down as she bit her thumb. What else? "Oh right; they're also after this experiment Charon did… some kind of ghost Pokemon, I think. It's supposed to like… mess with electronic stuff or something like that." She then shrugged. "That's all I know. Maybe the ghost thing has something to do with all that energy they tried to steal from those evolving Pokemon, and I know Mars' Ditto is also important, but they already have those two, so…"

"Hold on. What did you say?"

Metchi blinked. "Huh?"

"Did you say Mars and her Ditto?" The professor's face seemed to darken. "A Galactic member who called herself Mars was captured during the Veilstone incident, and escaped soon after. It seems she also murdered a few Galactic grunts two nights ago."

She knew that probably should have surprised her, but it didn't. It just baffled her. How long had it been since she'd checked the news?

"Figures. I always knew she was... y'know." She made an expression that perfectly illustrated what she meant. "Still, that's good news for you. It means Galactic is missing another piece to their puzzle."

Rowan and his Alakazam seemed to have a wordless conversation at that moment. She would have thought of it as them exchanging glances, but judging by the milky white of the Pokemon's eyes, he was blind. His type's mustache frazzled ever so slightly as he stared down at his cup, two silver spoons at its side and the coffee inside swirling slightly.

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"Raymond here tells me that you don't appear to be lying. That's good; it makes this a lot easier." Rowan placed both elbows on the table, steeping his hands in front of his mouth as he frowned thoughtfully. "There is however one last thing I would like to ask you; what, exactly, is Team Galactic's plan?"

There was something there, in between those two pair of questioning eyes and seemingly trustful glares that made Metchi doubt herself for a moment. But it's not like she had any other option. And hey, if they didn't believe her –and she wouldn't blame them if they didn't, considering how crazy it was– that was their problem, not hers.

After one last sip from her glass of water –because fuck, she wasn't used to talking so much– she told Rowan what she'd heard that fateful day when she inadvertently walked into the wrong corridor and heard what she wasn't supposed to.

She told him everything; the original role of the three Lake Guardians, the beings from beyond this world that have the power to re-write reality, the blood-red gems that will form a chain strong enough to drag them down from the heavens… and last and most important, Cyrus' plan to recreate the universe in his perfect image; snuffing out the very concept of Spirit and all traces of it within humanity.

To be fair to Cyrus, at least the guy was creative. You just… couldn't make this shit up.

She finished speaking with a deep sigh and a 'Yeah; I know, right?' look directed at Rowan. To the professor and his Alakazam's credit, while their eyes were wide with surprise, nothing in their expression indicated that they didn't believe her. Good. That made what came next slightly easier.

"That is… quite the motivation," said Rowan.

"Kinda surprises me you're taking it so well," she replied. "I mean… with all that stuff about Mesprit, Azelf and Uxie and all that."

Rowan shot her a knowing look. It reminded her of the look an old Delcatty would make, one who had seen and lived through enough in his life that even the strangest of situations failed to baffle him.

"I've studied Pokemon for over forty years. What makes you think I haven't already met all members of the Lake Trio, besides the fact that I obviously haven't mentioned it in public for their safety?"

She smiled back. "Fair enough, I guess."

Rowan looked down again, clearing his throat. "Though… I must admit, I am finding it hard to believe that so many youngsters would be swayed by the words of such a deranged man."

"He obviously didn't tell us that when we joined," she said, tapping her forehead with a 'Duh!' look on her face. "You saw that feed from Celestic, right? The footage of him talking to all the citizens and calling the Champion out. As crazy as the guy is, you gotta admit, he knows how to make good points and turn a crowd in his favor."

Rowan made a face, nose crinkling. "That is… debatable."

"I'm just saying; there's a reason people join." She shrugged. Then, once her two brain-cells reminded her that she was supposed to make a good impression, she added. "Anyway, he's definitely a prick and needs to go down. That's why I'm giving you these papers."

"We can agree on that, at least." Rowan looked at the blueprint one last time before putting it back inside the folder. "In any case, I cannot thank you enough, young lady. Any help toward fighting Team Galactic is greatly appreciated, and your contributions are nothing if not significant. If you wish for recognition…"

The face she made at that must have been truly something, because Rowan stopped on his tracks and formed an apologetic smile, lowering his hand to the table.

"I assume the idea doesn't entice you too much?"

She let out a nervous laugh. "Recognition is kind of the exact opposite of what I want right now."

"In that case, we can keep this meeting between us," said Rowan, smiling. "Still, I would like to offer you at least some form of reward for what you've done."

And there it was. Calm down, Metchi, you just need to ask for as little as you can while still making it enough to get back to Hoenn. And if you can, add that other favor on top of it. She steeled herself before replying.

"So… I might have kind of spent everything I had just coming here to give you those papers," she said. "And I don't really have a way to get back to Hoenn, so…"

"Ah. Money, of course."

Metchi could only stare as Rowan shook his head as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and then grabbed the wallet from the pocket of his coat and looked down at it, almost bored.

"You should have said so earlier. This is the least I can do in exchange for your bravery." With an absentminded flourish he took out a small bundle of bills and handed it to her. "Here. It should be more than enough to buy a cruise ticket to Hoenn, as well as anything else you might need money for both on the way and once you get there."

Mute was the only way she could have described herself at the moment. The weight of the bills on her palm was no more than the cup of coffee resting a few inches from her, yet it felt heavier than a lump of pure iron. It felt… wrong, almost. Like at any moment the money would burst into flames or rot or wilt into dust because her hands hadn't been designed to hold so much at once. It was simply wrong.

How much was it? Enough to comfortably survive for three months, not counting the cruise ticket that she had been planning to steal anyway? Maybe four months? More? She had no idea. Never in her life had she felt so out of her element, so utterly incapable of speaking back.

"This is…" She gawked for what felt like a minute before she came back to herself. "I can't… this is too much money."

Rowan swiped at the air with one hand, as though repelling the thought. "Nonsense. It's the least you deserve, Metchi. I actually feel bad that I don't have any more cash on me; if I did I would reward you much more handsomely."

"But…"

"Please. Take it, even if just to humor this old man." Rowan placed a hand under hers, then closed her fingers around the money with his other one. "In the name of my family, I cannot let such a deed go unrewarded."

Charity was not something Metchi was fond of. Yet something about Rowan's expression, about the absolute lack of judging in his eyes and that stern yet fatherly smile… she found it hard to say no. She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, answering as soon as she was able.

"Thanks. You're… a lot cooler of an old guy that I thought you'd be."

The tips of his mustache twitched in irritation for a moment, but it was soon replaced with an amused smile. "So I've been told."

At that the professor's Alakazam, who seemed to have lost interest in the conversation, wiped the table clean by levitating all the cups and trays on it and sending them toward the sink where they began to clean themselves with the water coming off the faucet. She couldn't help but admire his technique, despite being such an old Pokemon. Even when she was at the height of hers and Azelf's full power she would have never been able to levitate so many things at once, and with such finesse at that.

Azelf…

The thought turned sour in her mind immediately. She closed her eyes and swatted it off like an annoying fly, turning to Rowan once more.

"There's another favor I wanna ask, if it's okay."

Rowan nodded as he saved the folder inside the briefcase resting on the shelf next to him. "Of course. What do you need?"

With a twirl of her hand Metchi produced Lyserg's Pokeball and showed it to the professor, whose brow immediately furrowed at the old, rusty appearance of it.

"Yeah, I know," she hurried to say. "Been meaning to get a new Pokeball, but that's not the problem. My partner, a Tropius, got pretty hurt in a fight a few months ago. She's mostly healed by now but flying us all the way here from Pastoria exhausted her pretty badly and I think it might've opened the wound a little bit."

"A Tropius… I see." Rowan looked down, pensive. "Indeed, their bulky bodies are not meant for long stretches of uninterrupted flying, much less while injured."

Metchi grimaced. That would've been good to know.

"In any case, I don't see why you couldn't take her to a Pokemon Center," he added. "They don't exclusively offer services to trainers, you know. As long as your Pokemon and your Pokeball's ID number match you should be able to…"

His voice trailed off as he saw Metchi's face reddening, guilt written all over her face. A low sigh left his lips.

"She is not a legal catch, is she?"

Great. As much as she knew this part was coming, she still felt like she was swallowing a handful of nails when she opened her mouth to reply.

"Well… I was part of Team Galactic." She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "But I promise I've been taking good care of her! She's my friend. We've been through a lot together and she trusts me. Please, don't take her away or-"

"Take her away?" Rowan's voice went slightly high-pitched for a moment, an incredulous look on his face. "Oh, no, I apologize if that's what my tone implied. I can tell just from looking at you that you're not someone who treats their Pokemon with anything other than care and respect."

Metchi's face lit up. "Then, is there a way to…?"

"But of course. Here, a moment."

Rowan approached the shelf his briefcase rested on and began looking for something inside, the swish and swoosh of papers and doodads moving around filling the quiet room. Finally, he took something small out. It was a rectangular card the size of his palm, completely white except for a red outline. There was text emblazoned on it, but she couldn't quite make it out.

"Here." Rowan handed her the card, which she took with tentative fingers. "It's a provisional trainer's license. Present it to the nurse at the Pokemon Center and she will register you as a trainer for a trial period of a month, during which you will have all the rights and benefits any trainer would have." He smiled as he said that last part. "Which of course includes your own trainer ID. With it you'll be able to register that Tropius as yours, as well as transfer her to a more fitting Pokeball."

But Metchi had barely listened to that last part. She stared at the card she was holding like it was made of pure gold, a shocked expression on her face.

A memory came to her.

She was a couple years younger, her new Galactic uniform and its accompanying name as precious to her as her own heart. Saturn approached her with a smile and a Pokeball on his hand. It wasn't new or shiny. It wasn't anything special, yet he said… he said it was hers. Both the Pokeball and what it contained; they belonged to her. Metchi scrunched up her face, not understanding. What did he mean by that? Why was he just… handing a Pokemon away with a smile like that, acting like he didn't want anything in return? That wasn't how the world worked. Nothing was free. No one gave things away out of the goodness of their own hearts.

Saturn listened to her saying that, and laughed. He shook his head like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard and, once he could finally bring himself back, wiped a tear out of his face and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

We're family now, he said, beaming. And family helps family, no matter what.

That memory came to her as she stared at the provisional license, its weight along with that of the bills in her pocket almost as heavy as whatever was blocking her throat. She looked up at Rowan. Even though she technically had paid for this with those papers, Rowan's eyes seemed to have forgotten that already. She had a feeling that, should she have come to him empty-handed, the result wouldn't have been much different.

"I… I don't know what to say." She tried her best to smile, though it came out lopsided. "I wouldn't want you breaking the rules for me."

Rowan raised an eyebrow, his mustache twitching. "I'm not breaking anything, young lady. Rules are the backbone of our society; they must be firm and strong enough to sustain any blow against them, yet sufficiently flexible to bend when the situation calls for it. Like now, for example."

A small chuckle left her lips. As far as rationalizing went, that wasn't a bad way to do it. Yet she knew better. She'd broken rules more than a few times before; grabbed them by the spine and snapped them like twigs without a second thought. But it wouldn't do her any good to mention that.

"Thanks. Really." She saved the license in her pocket and helped herself to her feet. "Though I should probably go, if you don't mind. I wanna get my partner to the nurse and buy the cruise ticket as soon as I can."

"Of course." Rowan walked toward her, extending his hand. Fuck, how tall was he? Last time she'd checked she was almost six feet tall, yet the professor towered over her like an Ursaring. "I hope your trip is without complications. And if you ever feel that spark of rebellion flare within your chest once more, you're more than free to come back. We could always use someone as brave as you in the fight against Galactic."

Metchi shook his hand, a tired smile on her face. "Thanks, but I already tried that out and… it didn't really work." Just then it felt as though her shoulders and the edges of her smile became heavier. A hint of heat flashed behind her eyes. "I just… I just want to go home."

Rowan nodded. "It takes courage to retreat, too."

That's probably literally untrue, but okay.

"Oh, before I go." She let go of his hand, eyes going wide. Right, she needed to ask that. "Do you… happen to know a girl named Inyssa? Pretty short and wearing a stupid hat? Thinks she's better than everyone else?"

"I…" The question had startled Rowan. He blinked twice before replying. "Y-yes, I am Inyssa's official patron. Why do you ask?"

Shit. Probably shouldn't have insulted her, then. "Do you know where she is? Please tell me she hasn't gotten herself killed yet." As likely as that is.

A hearty laugh escaped form Rowan. "Ah… no, as much as she and her friend have thrown themselves into a Pyroar's maw time and time again, they are luckily safe and sound at the moment. I believe they left the city less than a day ago." He stroked his chin. "They're headed toward Snowpoint right now, if I remember correctly."

Metchi sighed. Great. Of course she'd just fucking missed them.

"May I ask why do you want to know that?"

She showed him a tired, smile, one hand on her hip.

"I have a friend that's been looking for her for a while now."