It was quite the sight. A deconstructed hay bale in the form of a rudimentary “mattress” covered by a plain white sheet. More of a nest than a bed, the edges of the hay pile stuck out in a circle all around the sheet.

“So, Dean, what’s the plan with this…love nest?” Roger Oak’s incredulity was plain in the tone he used.

“How familiar are you with the concepts of teleportation, Mr. Oak?”

“Can’t say I have any familiarity with the concept. Far as I’m concerned, it’s magic.”

Dean’s chest seemed to puff a bit as he proudly waved a hand towards his work. “The key is familiarity. Have you seen any of the new Pokecenters being built by the League?”

“Again, can’t say that I have.”

“Well, let me give you a quick description then. They’re all standardized out front. Red roof, square building, sign prominently displayed out front marking it as a Pokecenter. Everything from what flowers are planted out front and how many windows there are is the exact same at each location.” Dean pointed at his rudimentary drawing that he had scratched in the dirt as he spoke. “Pokemon that can use Psychic Energy use this concept as an ‘anchor’. Teleportation can only be done if the Pokemon is intimately familiar with the location that they are teleporting to. However, being a Trainer is risky business. For those lucky enough to have bonded with a Psychic type, this would allow them a quick escape to the nearest facility.”

A small voice piped up from behind the two men. “So you’re using the same concepts to create a familiar anchor for a Psychic that is coming here then?”

Dean turned to face the boy. “That’s right.”

“But why are you calling one here?” Sammy hesitated, shrinking back. “Wouldn’t it be better if all Trainers just had one with them? You just got here and haven’t even done anything yet. No one should be hurt.”

“Enough, Sammy.” The boy’s grandfather snapped, “I’ve had just enough of the attitude that you’ve displayed today.”

Dean decided that now was a good time to try and establish some rapport with the boy. He clearly didn’t trust him for some reason, and taking advantage of his curiosity might be the best move to get a better understanding of why. “Woah, hold on now, Mr. Oak. Sammy didn’t offend. I can see he’s just curious.” He flashed his best smile to the lad.

“To answer your first question, I’m calling a…friend’s psychic Pokemon here in order to act as a translator. His name is Gram, short for Telegram. As for why all Trainers don’t carry one? Psychic types are naturally very attuned to the emotions and thought processes of people. You could even call them natural empaths. As a result, they’re rather - ah - choosy of who, if anyone, that they bond with.”

Sammy opened his mouth to speak. “Good, looks like my intuition was right again.” Dean thought.

“You keep using that word. Bond. Why?”

Dean pulled the be-starred ball from his waist. “Mind if I bring out my partner? May be better to show you than just tell you.”

Sammy looked up at his Grandfather’s face. His eyes had the slightest of glimmers. Roger Oak sighed deeply, “Alright. Not one to deny a learning opportunity for my grandson. Go ahead Mr. Rogers… HAH!” He bellowed, “Just realized we share a name there. Better stick to Dean after all. Thank you kindly for asking first.”

Dean took a step backwards, then pressed down on the button before tossing the ball into the air. “Come on out, soldier, give ‘em a good show!”

The ball popped and hissed as white radiant energy poured forth from the opening. The shadows in the barn fled as it coalesced into a crouched form. The golden crest upon the purple head rose and rose as the Machoke stood and cocked his arms above his head into a stereotypical strongman pose. Muscles roiled and flexed into cords of iron as veins stood out alongside red striations. Across the Pokemon’s chest lay pale scars in nearly a crosshatch pattern. Several indentations could be seen dotting its torso and legs.

“Sammy, Mr. Oak, meet Rooster. Rooster, Sammy and Roger Oak.” Rooster bowed, then changed his pose into one that emphasized his chest, arms resting on his hips. “Rooster here has been with me since we were probably around your age, Sammy.”

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Dean gestured at the scars. “Each of these scars is a symbol of something that we went through together. Every one a testament to our collective tenacity, his fearlessness, and his conviction to keep me out of the worst scrapes. I can tell you that this one was when he broke my fall when I climbed a bit too high and trusted a branch a bit too thin once.” Dean pointed at the divots, “These from carrying me through miles of iron hail.”

Rooster raised his head at the last, pride oozing from his every pore as Dean continued. “He willingly put himself into harm’s way for me. Sort of like your Nidoran, he more or less just decided to tag along with me one day. When I say that we have a bond, I mean to say that Rooster here is my friend, my partner, and a member of my family. He would die for me, and I would do the same.”

Sammy’s face grew contemplative as he processed the information. Dean could almost see the gears turning behind the boy’s eyes.

“Would you though?”

Dean barely caught the whispered question; it was so soft. Kneeling down to be at the boy’s eye level, he replied.

“A bond goes both ways.”

A silence settled over the group as Roger Oak swept the boy onto an embrace. “Alright, Sammy. Perhaps we should let Dean finish up here and find us something else to do.”

“No.” Sammy’s head shook. “I want to stay and watch.”

Dean shrugged at the older gentleman. “May as well stick around, Gram will be here any second now.”

Free from his Grandfather’s grip, Sammy looked up. “Mr. Dean?”

“Yes, youngster?”

Sammy grimaced at the title but powered on, “Why are you using a nest as an anchor, anyways?”

Roger clapped a hand to the boy’s shoulder as he cleared his throat. “I think we’ve asked enough questions for the moment, Sammy.”

“No! I want to know why!”

Dean blanched and stood in silence for a few moments as Rooster huffed and chortled behind him. “Think it’s so funny, eh, wise guy?”

The Machoke doubled over wheezing before reaching out a finger and pressing the button on his ball. He disappeared into a stream of red light that was quickly sucked away into the metal sphere.

“Why was Rooster laughing so hard?” Sammy’s grandfather’s attempts to stifle the endless stream of questions had apparently failed.

Dean scratched his neck, searching for an answer that would at once satisfy the curiosity of the young while avoiding sensitive topics. As he considered his options, a pressure enveloped the area. One moment the nest in question was empty, the next a golden skinned Pokemon rested on its covers. Its mustache waved as it settled down, smacking an inordinately large spoon it carried.

The Pokemon rapped the spoon on a nearby branch in a rhythm. Some were quick and sharp, while others allowed the metal to ring a bit.

--. .-. . . - .. -. --. ... ....... -- .- ... - . .-. ....... -.. . .- -. .-.-.-

Breathing out a sigh of relief at the welcome distraction, Dean smiled and introduced the Pokemon. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Gram. He’s what you call a Kadabra, and is my wife’s partner.”

.--. .-.. . .- ... ..- .-. . ....... - --- ....... -- .- -.- . ....... -.-- --- ..- .-. ....... .- -.-. --.- ..- .- .. -. - .- -. -.-. .

“He says that it’s good to meet you all.”

The elder Oak raised a hand as if to ask a question, but let it drop to his side. Sammy, on the other hand, was not stymied in the least.

“Is that morse code?”

“Correct, yet again, Sammy. Quite the scholar you’ve got there, Mr. Oak.”

“He takes after his father in that regard.”

-- .- -.-- ....... .. ....... .-. . -- .. -. -.. ....... -.-- --- ..- --..-- ....... -.. . .- -. --..-- ....... - .... .- - ....... -.-- --- ..- ....... -.-. .- .-.. .-.. . -.. ....... -- . ....... .... . .-. . ....... ..-. --- .-. ....... .- ....... .-. . .- ... --- -. ..--.. ....... ....... .. ..-. ....... -.-- --- ..- ....... .-- .. ... .... ....... - --- ....... -- .- -.- . ....... .. - ....... .... --- -- . ....... .. -. ....... - .. -- . ....... ..-. --- .-. ....... -.-- --- ..- .-. ....... ... --- -. .----. ... ....... -... .. .-. - .... -.. .- -.-- --..-- ....... .. - ....... .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. ....... -... . ....... .--. .-. ..- -.. . -. - ....... - --- ....... -... . --. .. -. ....... -.-- --- ..- .-. ....... -- .. ... ... .. --- -. .-.-.-

While none but Dean could fully parse what was relayed in the rapid taps and pings, the urgency was clear.

“Alright folks. Time for Gram and I to get to work.”