Dialga and Palkia. Twin gods of destruction and creation. Of time and space.

For long, our land had revered them as those responsible for the creation of our world, and even beyond. Statues depicting them dotted the country all over. Personally, I'd never had the need for gods. The strength of my own arms had always been enough for me to achieve my goals, to protect those who could not protect themselves.

As such, I found myself in a compromising position. The gods surely received requests and prayers from their devoted followers all over the land, which often went ignored. Surely they wouldn't spare any thought to the needs of a heretic like me.

As such, I decided to act the part. If they considered me a heretic, I'd do as a heretic would.

I would take their power for myself.

----------------------------------------

Hideout – 8:30 p.m.

Reiko really wished she had incense to burn.

Instead, she tore apart a few bags of the horrid instant tea they'd been drinking for the past few days and sprinkled the dry leaves atop the small ceramic containers, lighting them ablaze with a touch of her finger.

The last Pokeball on her belt grew hot, but she shushed it away.

I'm paying respects, she thought. Get off my back.

The living room was in complete darkness, with the exception of the small flames now rising from the burning tea leaves, casting a weak light on her weathered face. She let out a sigh, then knelt before the makeshift shrine. It was a disgrace. The mediums in Lavender tower would have smacked her upside the head for showing such disrespect, but there really wasn't much she could do.

They would leave in a few hours. A simple white cloth, two makeshift paper Shen Zhu Pai and incense made of tea leaves was the best she could manage in such short notice. Father would understand. He'd always been a pragmatic man.

"Please, accept my offering, as poor as it may be," she whispered in Kantan, closing her eyes. She joined both hands together under her chest. "Father. Brother."

The smell of burning leaves made her nose itch from the hints of blackroot and spices. Smoke began to permeate the room.

"I'll be leaving soon. By this time tomorrow, we might have destroyed Team Galactic… or us ourselves might have been destroyed." Her fingers tightened against each other. "I pray it's the former. I beg of you to pray as well, so that justice may finally be made.

"I have been graced… With opportunity, power and intent, so that I can bring the wrath of Cinnabar's Flame upon the one responsible for the destruction of our home. And now… I've been blessed with a weapon, as well."

She raised both hands palm up as though it were an offering, and a moment after the air itself vibrated and a long blade materialized with a purple sheen. It felt light as a feather, like when Mewtwo had offered it to her. She closed her hands around the scabbard and lowered her head, ashamed.

"Please, imbue Flicker with the intent of all those who fell at the eruption of Cinnabar. I offer them the honor dealing the final blow." She spoke with utmost respect and reverence, her voice unusually hushed. "I will be but the mortal carrier of their combined Wills. I don't trust myself to determine what is right or wrong anymore."

More than ten seconds passed in silence. The smell was starting to make her head swim.

"Thank you."

With a thought she made the blade vanish once more, then straightened her back so she was face to face with the spirit tablet.

"I know neither of you would approve of what I'm doing," she whispered, her tone back to normal. "But please… Watch over me tonight. I'm not strong enough. I've never been… Not on my own, at least."

She gave the room a few seconds more, then let go of the breath she'd been holding. Her shoulders dropped as though they weighed a ton. Exhausted, she raised both hands to put out the burning leaves.

The door flew open and she jumped, the tip of her knee less than an inch from toppling the makeshift shrine. She threw her hand to the side, air vibrating between her fing–

"Oh… Sorry."

She swallowed the breath she'd almost choked on, shoulders dropping.

"Palmer?" she asked, the edge of her lip going up in anger. "What are you doing here?"

Was that a plate in his hands? And that smell… even past the dizzying scent of burnt leaves she noticed the mouth-watering richness and spiciness of seared meat. It was hard not to bit her lower lip.

"I snuck into a nearby town and got some takeout for everyone," said Palmer, putting up a smile that tried its best to lighten up the mood between them. "Cynthia said she wanted us in top condition for our task, so…"

He shrugged and did that weird side-smile she'd seen in other Sinnohans when they were trying to break an uncomfortable situation. She frowned. On one hand, she wanted really badly to slap that expression off his face. On the other, though, it did remind her of Barry a fair bit. And even in her mind she couldn't be mad at that boy.

"I said I wanted some time alone. And why didn't Percy bring me the food, anyway?"

"He's still busy making the last recon rounds with Argenta. Should be back soon though," said Palmer with an optimistic smile. "And… are you sure you didn't mention that only to him?"

Shit. That was right. One of the rare occasions where her reluctance to speak to these people only brought them closer to her.

"Well, whatever. Thanks for the food."

Palmer picked up the hint and slid the plate into the table next to him, though he did not leave as she expected him to. Instead he frowned and raised his chin, looking over her. The following sneer from Reiko did little to stop him, not that she expected a man with curious and oblivious eyes like his to know much about tact, or fear. On that, he and Barry seemed identical.

"Ah… I guess I interrupted you while you were paying your respects," he said, expression growing somber. "I'm sorry."

She tried to be angry at him. She really did, but something about the complete and utter honesty in his voice made it impossible for her anymore. Not after the state she'd seen him in, back in Solaceon. Not after her talk with Mewtwo. So instead, she sighed and pretended to be slightly irritated instead.

"You're in luck," she said. "Proximity to the shrine means I can't be angry at you or tell you to fuck off in fear of disrespecting the spirits, so you get a pass for now."

He made a sound with his throat, almost a pity laugh. "I didn't know you were religious."

"No, but they were."

"Akechi and… Ye-jun, is it?," Palmer squinted, trying to make out the text on the sheets of paper. "They're very… ah, clever names, you could say."

Reiko turned to him quickly and opened her mouth to snap at him, though she wasn't able to find the words. That hadn't been… inappropriate, per se. Still, she didn't expect his response to be a stupid pun that only someone who spoke Sinnohan, Kantan and Johtonian would've been able to make. The nerve of this fucking man.

And yet… Why did she feel like smiling all of a sudden?

"Didn't peg you for someone who knows four languages," she said. "Or much at all, really."

"Not the first time I've heard that," he replied with a quick smile. "I'm… sorry if my joke offended you. I'm known to retort to that when I don't know what else to say."

She shrugged. "I don't care. Though you might have offended them by how horrible the joke was."

"Wouldn't be the first time I've made spirits groan at my sense of humor."

He took a couple of steps forward casually, his posture relaxed yet tight at the same time. Weary of her, but not wanting to show it. She didn't know what pissed her off more; that he was considerate enough to do that or that he bothered at all, knowing how bad he was at it.

"The leaves still burn a bit," he said, eyeing the shrine. "Mind if I offer my respects too?"

Her scowl grew harsher, but she bit down the first words that came to her. "You're gonna."

Taking that as implicit permission, Palmer approached and lowered himself to his knees in front of the shrine, the highest of his hair-tufts now at level with Reiko's stomach. She glared down at him, arms folded, refusing to move. Palmer brought his hands together, not in the usual way Sinnohans did to pray –palm against palm– but by wrapping his closed left fist in the fingers of his right hand, shoulders locked against his sides.

Reiko set her jaw. This was wrong. His was a very particular way to pray, one she'd only seen only Kantan people who had strong roots in Johtonian religious practices. It was how her parents did it. How little Ye-jun had learned to do it, before…

White hot anger spread from her chest, making her muscles tense like steel. For a moment, she forgot where she was. How dare he? A murderer like him, someone who'd done such harm to her region and its people, willingly choosing this way to honor two of its lost souls… it was as insulting as a spit to the face. She felt her hands curl into fists, her breathing getting harsher.

You'd have been angry at him if he prayed the wrong way, too, the calm part of her brain told her. You're looking for reasons to hate this man.

A sharp intake, followed by a few calmer breaths. It was fine. She'd given him permission, so even in this scenario it was her fault, in the end. Besides, his praying wasn't perfect either. He whispered low enough for her not to be able to pick up what he was saying. An actual Kantan would have known that you had to speak normally if you wanted the spirits to hear you.

Reiko frowned. Was that better or worse? Was she mad at him for having the nerve to try mourning them like she would or because he wasn't perfect at it? At least he made an effort, didn't he? That was more than she could say for every other Sinnohan she'd met so far, so why did it irritate her so?

She shook her head and let out a tired sigh. Being around Palmer was dangerous; the more she spent around him the more she didn't know if she truly hated him or not.

Finally, after almost a minute, he opened his eyes and relaxed his posture. "That should be enough. I made sure to include another joke at the end there; a much better one too, so they don't think I'm as unfunny as I make myself out to be most of the time."

Reiko had to forcefully suppress the muscles in her lips from twitching up. Dear Mew, what was with this man?

"How did you learn to pray like that?"

"Old lady at the Lavender tower taught me," he said casually. "Wouldn't stop beating me over the head with her cane until I got it right. Though it's been a while, so I'm sure I got something wrong."

Reiko unfolded her arms, changing her stance for the first time in what must have been minutes. The shock on her face was clear as day.

"You… went to Lavender tower?" she asked, incredulous. "But… Lavender didn't see much conflict during the war. When could you have…?"

Palmer, still kneeling down, looked up at her with an expression that seemed to border on amused.

"I've visited the Indigo peninsula plenty of times after the war," he said. "When do you think I learned to speak the languages?"

That was a great point, and Reiko hated herself for not having thought of that before.

"Then you went vacationing to a place you've previously invaded?" she snapped back. "You thought you could kill our people and then steal our culture just like that?"

Unfortunately, there was no bite to her remark. No real anger. The heat in her voice was all artificial, one she'd put there to at least pretend she was feeling what she was supposed to. In truth, she was more surprised than furious.

Palmer looked down, shame creeping up his face.

"That's not what I meant to imply," he said, shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry."

A part of Reiko wanted to be done with this conversation now, but the other part, the one whose curiosity tended to get her into trouble…

"Then why would you go back?" she asked. "Surely it wasn't because you felt popular there."

"No… I clearly wasn't," he said, drawing his lips into a line. "I've been called a lot of names every time I returned, all of them earned. Even been punched a couple of times. But I've never lied about who I was or what I'd done."

Reiko shook her head. "I don't understand."

Palmer leaned back, kneeling straight, and sighed in a way that made it clear this wasn't any easier for him to talk about than it was for her to listen.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"I wanted to atone," he said." It'd been a few years after the war. Everything was going fine. My wife and I had settled down in Twinleaf, my son was growing nice and healthy and I'd gotten my dream job at the Battle Tower. But still… the nightmares, they just wouldn't stop."

"The… nightmares?"

"They came every night. Pills, insomnia, psychic-induced REM-less sleep… none of it made them go away. I wasn't even safe during the day. Then there were voices. Like whispers in the wind, sneaking up behind me when I least expected them." He swallowed hard. "And every time they spoke to me, I swore I could felt it. The grief, pain, rage, every emotion that comes before the taking of a life. It was… like a curse."

Reiko swallowed a gulp of air, having forgotten to breath for a moment. "A punishment."

"And a well deserved one at that. But I guess I wasn't strong enough to live with it." A sad smile formed on his lips. "Weirdly enough, it seemed to vanish as soon as I left Twinleaf. Part of the reason I started traveling so much. But even with that, it wasn't enough. At the end of the day I still had to go back home, had to smile to my son and kiss my wife and go to bed knowing they would come for me as soon as I closed my eyes."

"Which is why you went back to Kanto," Reiko realized. "Was that the reason? You wanted to atone just because you were plagued by nightmares?"

"No," said Palmer, eyes narrowing into something that hurt to look at. "One day I realized that I feared the nightmares more than I wanted to be with my family. That's when I made the choice."

Reiko clamped her mouth shut. How the hell did you respond to something like that?

"I know I took the coward's way out. Maybe the right thing to do would've been to publicize all the horrible things I'd done and declare myself a war criminal to the entirety of Sinnoh. I could've given myself to justice."

"You had a son. A family to take care of," Reiko argued, a confused sort of anger in her voice. "I don't…"

She stopped herself. What had she been about to say; I don't blame you for it? Au contraire, she very much did. But could she really be crossed that he hadn't chosen that option?

What would that have done to his son? she thought. Would he still have that stupidly bright smile he carries all over the place?

Palmer nodded. "That's how I tried to generalize it too. But regardless, I knew I had to do something. So I did."

He stood up slowly, face grimacing in pain at kneeling for so long, exacerbating the lines on his face. With a sigh he dusted off his knees, then put a hand into his pocket and retrieved a brown, rectangular object the size of his palm and just about as thick. He flipped the notebook over and opened it up, revealing a page full of barely legible scribbles.

"What is that?"

"The world's most difficult to-do list," said Palmer with a quick, practiced smile. "Here, come look."

Reiko did, though not before shooting him a doubtful glare. The darkness in the room and her lack of experience with reading written Sinnohan made it hard to make out most of what was written on the page, but there was something she recognized without trouble; names. At least twelve of them on the first page and a few more on the other. They were distinctly Kantan, with a few Johtonian names sprinkled about, and each one was followed by a list of observations and random scribbles.

"What…?"

"Tzen," said Palmer, reciting the first name on the page. "Twenty-two. Enlisted trainer and supposed poison-type specialist. Fell at the battle on the beach of Fuchsia. Accidental cave-in of a nearby hill due to a Hyper Beam from my Salamance."

Reiko, all things considered, didn't think it possible for her insides to ever feel cold, but such corrections always came when she least welcomed them.

"A list of the people you killed?" she asked, voice thin and pale.

"Me or my squadron. Not much difference, since I was the one to give out orders."

He began flipping through the pages absentmindedly, head hung low and eyes devoid of their characteristic energy.

"At first, I went back to investigate. Association records, historian notes, other soldiers' testimonies… I left no stone unturned while searching for these names."

Reiko swallowed. It didn't come easy to her. "Then what?"

"Well… it depended on the person," he said. "The first step was always to find living family members and apologize to them. Rarely went well, but I refused to skip that step."

"I don't blame them," said Reiko, automatically. "If you'd shown up at my house I would've punched you in the face."

"Ha. That did happen a few times, like I said. There were a few pleasant exceptions, but it never got easy."

"What about those who didn't have a family?"

"Then I looked for some other way to apologize. Some of them had partner Pokemon who'd survived when they hadn't, so I looked for them. It was… harder to make them understand. None of them were happy when they finally got what I was saying but… in the end, I think I found a way to make it up to them, one by one." A small, almost invisible smile crept up his lips. "One of them has been a part of my team for years."

Reiko let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Must be the dumbest Pokemon in the world."

"Then it was meant to be," he said. "Like Pokemon, like trainer."

"Red seeks red," she whispered in Kantan. "It's…"

Once again, she stopped herself. Was it nice of him? Was it the right thing to do if he'd only done it because of his guilty conscience? Would the people he apologized to care? Reiko bit her lip, discomfort spreading from her stomach out. She hated this. Momentum was what kept her focused, what kept her rage and indignation from stagnating and fizzling out. The only way to control the Flame of Cinnabar, she'd learned, was to burn hotter than it.

But right now… she felt frozen, unsure. Her momentum smashed to pieces.

"Did it work?" she finally asked. "Did the nightmares stop?"

He rested a hand on the table, nodding weakly. "Took a while. But it got easier, the more I did it. The nightmares came less frequently and the voices quieted down a bit, and then…one day, they were just gone." He said it with a hint of incredulousness in his voice, as though he couldn't believe it himself. "Kind of a cruel twist of fate that it happened the day my son got started on his trainer journey. I could finally enjoy being with my family to the fullest, and then he was gone. But hey, can't win'em all, am I right? As long as I'm free of that…"

"You crossed everyone off the list?" she asked.

"…That's the thing. I… don't cross them out," he said, anxiously tapping his thigh with the closed notebook. "I go back every few months. I pray at their shrines and bring gifts and any help I can provide to the ones that'll have it, and I leave apologies for the ones that won't. I don't think I'll ever be done."

Then, he turned to her and smiled, anyway. It was like a gust of fresh air. He almost seemed excited at the prospect.

"Journey before destination," he said. "I'll never be done, but the nightmares are gone anyway, so I must be doing something right."

Reiko nodded absentmindedly. "So don't fix what ain't broken?"

"Precisely!" He raised a finger gun at her and winked. "And always keep a positive attitude. Those are the two first Palmer rules."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what are the other rules?"

"Dunno. I don't make the rules, I just follow them."

It was a clear attempt at creating some levity, but Reiko didn't feel compelled to laugh. There was still something…

"Does your wife feel the same way?" she asked, a sting in her voice. "Does she work as hard to atone as you do?"

She could physically feel the atmosphere drop to the floor. Palmer froze, smile dropping like it was made of lead.

"I…" He looked away. "Sarah is a… complicated woman."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Palmer sighed. "No, she doesn't." He shook his head. "She… doesn't have the free time I do, and even if she did, I doubt she thinks of herself as someone who could be redeemed for what she's done." Reiko frowned at that, but he hurried to add: "I'd… ask you not to hold it against her. No one works harder for the sake of making Sinnoh a better place than she does. If someone can prevent a war like that from happening again, it's her."

"I didn't ask you for all that," she spat out. "You don't have to justify her or yourself to me, anyway."

She didn't know why she said that, but Palmer seemed understandably taken aback. Now she was just being difficult. She knew that. But fuck it if this wasn't his fault for coming all unannounced and messing with her head like this.

And still, he smiled again, the tips of his shoulders going up from stifling a laugh.

"You remind me of her, sometimes," he said. "And… what if I want to justify myself to you? Maybe I'm looking to add another name to my list."

Now she was the one taken aback, though that was a very light way of putting it. She felt her mouth drop. Words failed her for a few seconds.

"What?" she asked, voice venomous. "You don't have to… You're not responsible for…"

"Responsibility ain't a binary thing, kiddo. One single person was responsible for the turning of the war. That could've been any of us." He made a gesture with his head toward the door. Cynthia. "I could've done that, if I'd bothered to try. But I was afraid of getting court marshaled or killed or worse, so I sat back and did what I was told. And like I just showed you, I'm still trying to atone for that."

He raised the book in front of his chest, shaking it a bit, eyes still on her. "So what do you say, Reiko? Think I could someday earn some forgiveness for you?"

Reiko sighed, and closed her eyes. Images flashed across her eyes. Towers of smoke, the smell of burnt concrete and sulfur, hundreds of Pokemon flying through the sky, only to drop like dead flies a second after. A white cloth being lifted, her father and brother's remains underneath. A long, grueling year of torturous training.

A fated meeting. A flame she swore she'd feed until it was the right time to unleash it.

When she opened her eyes again, her expression was unnaturally calm.

"No," she said. "Not yet, at least."

He drew his lips into a line. "I see. Then… there's some hope, at least."

Reiko rolled her eyes. For the first time since she'd met the man, the smile that formed on her lips came to her with ease.

"Help me stop Team Galactic tonight and we'll see."

She made her way toward the table and picked up her plate. It was still warm. Or was that just her hands? She felt Palmer's eyes on her back. The prick was probably smiling too.

"I'll do my best."

"Aim higher, in case that's not enough," she said, back turned to him. "And… thanks for the food, I guess."

She was halfway out the door when she stopped on her tracks, hesitated, then looked over her shoulder one last time.

"You're really good at butting in on other people's problems, you know that?" There was no sting to her voice as she said that. "Barry's just as annoying in that regard."

Palmer beamed, seemingly happy to hear that. "I wouldn't have expected otherwise."

----------------------------------------

Lake Valor – 9:10 p.m.

Lucas sat at the edge of the lake, alone.

The cold emanating from the water seeped into the marrow of his bones, but he refused to move or let himself shiver. He simply stared ahead at the icy mists, eyes tired and colorless. Night had begun to set in. A night without much moonlight, which meant very soon he would be in complete darkness in a place where such a thing was a really terrible idea, and also possibly deadly.

He didn't care.

Lazily, he made his sore neck click then looked up for about the tenth time that hour, seeking something in the gathering storm clouds above. A light, a shape, anything.

But nothing came.

Stupid, he thought, hugging his knees tighter. Why would he come back here? Just because it's where you met him? Yeah, like you matter to him that much.

Frustration grew from his chest through his veins like broken glass. Why would he want him back, anyway? Saturn had betrayed him. He was part of Team Galactic, he was a terrorist, he was…

His thoughts trailed off like wisps from a flame going out, no anger there to fuel them. No, that wasn't for Saturn. As much as he wanted to despise him, every ounce of frustration within him was directed at himself.

The past few days had been the longest of his life. No one but him knew. He'd tried to justify it by investigating the case himself, trying to find a way to track Saturn through his Poketch contact or learn anything from his previous conversations with him, but nothing came up. So there was no logical reason to let anyone know. It wouldn't get the Association a single step closer to catching Team Galactic, so why bother?

Except he knew full well that wasn't the reason. He was just scared. Scared that if he told the truth, everyone would come to the same realization he had.

That he was a fraud.

Rowan had only taken him in as an apprentice because he pitied him. His silver Pokeballs had only gotten famous because of a flaw in their design he'd been planning to remove anyway. None of his other research work measured up to that, either. And if it weren't enough, now he'd let himself be spied upon by a member of Team Galactic, one who –presumably– only approached him to get closer to the professor in the first place.

Then why didn't he take you too? a voice whispered. Why did he look so hurt when he ran away?

Lucas swatted away the thought with a shake of his head. It didn't matter. Saturn was gone, and Lucas hated himself for missing him so bloody much.

He was a failure, plain and simple. His parents had been right about him; it was in his nature that he couldn't do anything right. Lowering his head, he breathed in and swallowed that fact, keeping it trapped inside his ribcage like a second heart made of pulsing ice. He had to keep it there. Had to accept it.

"Rrrrrrrraa…"

The rumbling of his starter's voice reverberated through the ground, rising up his body and making him shiver at last.

"I told you I needed some time," he said, looking over his shoulder. "I…"

No words. He couldn't get anything more out, so he just sighed and shook his head.

"Rrrrra…" Torterra took another step forward, making the ground rumble under his weight. "Rrrrr…"

"…Yeah, you're right. Sorry, Archie."

Every muscle in his body protested as he stood up, creaking like straw being bent to its limits. Sleeping tonight would be hell.

"It's getting late. We don't want to get ambushed by yet another Drapion."

Archimedes' eyes went wide at the sound of that name. The leaves adorning the tree atop his back shivered as though ready to be fired and the Torterra looked all around for a moment, before realizing said beast wasn't actually there.

Despite himself, Lucas smiled. Archimedes always found a way to get that gesture from him, despite the circumstances.

"Easy, big guy. I was speaking hypothetically." He approached the Torterra and placed a hand on its massive head. The scales were cold to the touch. "Though even if I weren't, I reckon you could take on one of those now that you've learned a handful of ground-type moves."

Archimedes simply moved his head in rhythm with Lucas' pats, clearly not understanding much what his trainer was talking about. Lucas was fine with that. He'd always found that speaking to himself calmed him.

"You'd probably pick the Drapion up with your vines and toss them hard enough to reach the swamp," he said. "We wouldn't need anyone to save us this t–"

His smile dropped, memories of that day coming to him like a punch to the face. Archimedes looked up, blinking confusedly, probably wondering why his trainer had stopped petting him.

Lucas closed his eyes tight, feeling his body deflate from exhaustion.

"I'm sorry. I just… wish that day hadn't happened."

A tilt of the head and a couple of blinks. Somehow, Archimedes managed to communicate clear doubt with those gestures, though Lucas knew he was probably imagining it. The Pokemon's gaze went from his face to the belt tied around his waist.

"You're right," sighed Lucas. "If I hadn't come here that day, I never would've met Kevorkian and I never would've been able to make those silver Pokeballs that saved Inyssa and Barry's lives."

Archimedes continued to nuzzle his enormous head against his hand, and just then Lucas had a thought.

"Ah crap… today was Inyssa's birthday," he realized, panicked. "And I'm pretty sure she and Barry were supposed to have a Gym fight today. Jeez. Talk about busy; when she's not having Pokemon battles she's making the whole region panic by revealing Team Galactic's plans out of nowhere… What a girl…"

He couldn't help but sigh. Inyssa and Barry… The mere thought of them made a smile form on his lips. Unconsciously, he raised a hand to the cheek they'd kissed him on and felt a tinge of warmth start to fight back against the relentless cold enveloping him.

If they'd been in my place… I'm sure they wouldn't have screwed up like I did, he thought. They would've done the right thing, no matter what.

He'd been looking forward to saving them a second time. Been looking forward to another kiss on the cheek from them.

But now, even something as simple as that was out of the question.

He sighed, grabbing a Pokeball from his belt. "Speaking of, I should return you to your ball. I'll have Kevorkian fly me back to Canalave and…"

He froze. For a second, it felt as though the entire world held its breath. Then came a flash of realization like a Solar Beam falling on top of his head.

It was a miracle Kevorkian's ball didn't fall from his hand.

"Kevorkian," he whispered. "I… Oh my god…"

A flash of light exploded in front of him, retracting into the familiar form of his Skarmory. The avian Pokemon shivered at once, glaring daggers at his trainer. But Lucas didn't have time for his grumpiness right now.

"Kevorkian! I…" He swallowed. How could he ask this? "You… Do you remember when you were part of Saturn's team?"

That seemed to snap him out of his anger. The Skarmory tilted his head sharply and blinked a few times, then let out a soft yet metallic chirp. Happy.

Lucas bit his lip. That's right, he probably doesn't realize…

"Did Saturn ever show you the place where he works?" he asked, urgency in his voice. "A… building, I assume. Big, full of other people dressed like him?"

A few more tilts of his head, this time confusion. Lucas bit down his irritation. This wasn't his fault.

"The place where he spent most of his time." Lucas talked as slowly and clearly as he could. "Please, if you remember…"

It took a few more moments of blank staring, but finally a gleam of recognition seemed to flash across those eyes of his, and Kevorkian let out another cheery chirp. Lucas felt his stomach drop.

"Could you take me t–"

He stopped, unsure. Was this really what he wanted to do? What if they captured him? No, it was almost certain that he'd be caught as soon as he approached wherever Galactic HQ was. The most pressing issue was… What if they did something worse than capture him?

The professor is there, he reminded himself, furious. And…

He couldn't keep denying it. There had been regret in Saturn's eyes. Hurt. And more than anything else… He hadn't captured him. He'd let him go. Maybe he had a chance to save him, too.

You're just hoping that, a voice whispered, so that you don't have to deal with your mistakes.

So what? It was what he always did.

Lucas breathed in, the cold air feeling warm as it entered his chest. He looked at Kevorkian and spoke with no doubt in his voice.

"Can you take me there?"

"Skaaaaa!"

Kevorkian unfolded his wings, the sharp, silvery gleam reflecting what little light filtered through the clouds above. The wind swirled around him, expectant.

Lucas flashed him a tired, yet determined smile.

"Alright. To the sky, then."