The next morning, after dragging herself out of the top bunk, Hayley went to the arena. Her heart wasn't in it, but the unfortunate reality was that she had more than herself and Connie to think about—she had three Pokémon under her care, and they needed her to keep going. She'd brought Ceres on with the promise of companionship, and she'd won over Barrett and Sen with the promise of as many battles as they could handle, and she couldn't put those promises on hold just because her world had turned upside down. And so, with her mind in a fog and her stomach full of lead, Hayley held up her end of the bargain.

At least the battles went fine. Hayley kept Ceres on the sidelines, because Ceres still needed commands to know what to do in a fight, and with her attention slipping, Hayley didn't trust herself to keep her from getting hurt. Barrett and Sen, though, were fine fighting on their own—they even preferred it. So Hayley chalked today up to a study in independence, and tried to pretend it was a decision she'd made on purpose.

Both Barrett and Sen had gotten the hang of detect, though they could only pull it off a couple of times per battle. Sen's execution of the move was more refined than Barrett's; he used it just as attacks were about to hit, and shifted only inches away so that not a single movement was wasted. Barrett, on the other hand, flung himself as far as he could to catch his opponent by surprise on the counterattack. He still couldn't anticipate as well as Sen, and often used the move too early, leaving himself open. When it worked, though, it really worked, and it had turned the tide of more than a few battles. As far as other moves went, Barrett's fire and cross chops were in top form, and Sen's confusion had dramatically improved, although he still preferred to throw things rather than hold and manipulate them.

Barrett was still better in an undirected battle due to his breadth of experience, but Sen, being a quick learner, was fast catching up. When Hayley called it quits at ten o'clock, their win/loss ratio had just about broken even. It helped that Petalburg's battle scene was less bustling than Slateport's or Rustboro's; the city wasn't exactly a tourist hotspot, and the aging, utilitarian arena wasn't a big draw for rising stars aching to show off. Most of the trainers here were like Hayley—good, but not spectacular, keeping their heads down and their noses to the grindstone until they were ready to take on Norman. If she could get her head back in the game, Hayley figured, she had a shot at bringing her win ratio back to what it had been before.

That was a task for later, though. Now, with her duty to her team partially fulfilled, Hayley had to go back to helping Connie.

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With her hair unstyled, her face free of makeup, and her red-framed glasses seated back over her eyes, Connie looked small. Over the past week, Hayley had guiltily wished over and over that Connie could go back to being the person she had known before—but this wasn't the Connie she had known before. There was no light in her eyes; she looked empty, diminished. She forced a smile as she was introduced to each lawyer, counselor, specialist, and doctor that met with her, but then she went back to staring at the floor, clutching Marcie and speaking only when spoken to. Through it all, Hayley sat next to her, trying to take Connie's mind off things with small talk in the waiting rooms, or filling in details for the professionals whenever Connie went quiet. She wasn't sure how much her being there actually helped, but she had to do something, so she kept on trying.

The news from the lawyers, it turned out, was good. Connie and Marcie had a clear-cut self-defense case, they said, and given Connie's age and inexperience, the panel that would hear their case was likely to be sympathetic. They would have to submit a statement in their own defense, and they'd probably have to undergo classes to prove they weren't a danger to anyone else, but the odds of license cancellation or Marcie being forcibly removed were slim.

The news from the doctors was less good. They prodded at Connie and Marcie for hours, moving them from exam room to exam room. They each interrogated Connie about what her connection with Marcie had been like, how it had developed over the past three months, and how it had changed over the past two days, then launched into a battery of tests. Either Connie and Marcie would be hooked up to electrodes or loaded into an MRI or MEG machine, and the other would have lights shone in their eyes, or styluses poked into their arms and legs, or be shown a series of pictures, or asked bizarre questions, all while a team of experts looked at the ensuing brain images and waveforms and murmured to each other in hushed voices. Finally, in an office that had been papered with scan results that Hayley couldn't hope to decipher, the lead neurologist gave her verdict.

"All of the tests do point towards psychic fusing." Connie's father let out a small gasp, while her mother's shoulders sagged. Connie clutched her fingers tighter around Marcie and stared determinedly at the table. "I know it's not what anyone was hoping to hear, but I think we should still remain positive. We've caught it early, and Connie and Marcie are both young, so the process should be mostly reversible."

"What do you mean 'mostly'?" Connie's mother demanded. Hayley flinched, but the doctor's gentle expression didn't falter.

"Imagine a tree that's had damage done to its trunk. With time, it'll be able to cover over the wound with new wood and bark. Though the scar may remain, the function—"

"Scar? You're talking like she has brain damage."

"It's not brain damage, at least not in the way you're thinking of it. I want to make that very clear. The cells of the brain are all still intact; the trouble lies solely in neural activity." The doctor held up two images, one of Connie's brain and one of Marcie's, with identical regions lit up. "Connie and Marcie's neurons have begun to see each other as belonging to one single system, and they're using Marcie's psychic ability to communicate as though they're linked together in the same body. This disrupts the neural network that we all need to function by allowing synapses to travel along circuits that aren't physically there. Already, both of their brains have begun to build pathways that reference each other, using the paired brain as a shortcut or crutch rather than making a complete circuit in their own bodies. If and when their connection is interrupted—say the two of them travel too far apart, or Marcie is recalled to her ball—all of the non-physical circuits will cease to function. Depending on what those circuits are linked to, the interruption can be anywhere from painful to deadly."

"Then how do we stop it?" Connie's father glanced between Connie and the doctor, harsh overhead lights catching the sweat beading on his brow. "If it's happening already, then—"

"Their brains will need to be coaxed back to seeing each other as separate entities," said the doctor. "The non-physical pathways I've described may remain indefinitely, and new ones will always be at risk of forming—that's the "scarring" I was alluding to earlier. But with the right medications, treatments, and therapies, the brain can build around those so that psychic interruption is simply uncomfortable, rather than critical."

"Isn't psychic fusing what happened to Liza and Tate?" Hayley spoke without thinking, and cringed as all eyes turned to stare at her. In a whisper, she added, "It's why they can't—can't be apart."

"Yes," the doctor finally said, after a long, agonizing pause. "Their case is especially severe, though, because it began at neurogenesis in the womb. You shouldn't use it to guess at how Connie and Marcie will turn out." With a soft smile, she added, "Liza and Tate's case has given us a lot of valuable data on the condition, though. I was one of the doctors who worked on them in their childhood, as are many members of my team. Connie's in good hands here."

"So where do we go from here?" Connie's mother asked. "What's the next step?"

"We'll review Connie and Marcie's scans and determine a treatment plan that will work for them. Expect a call from us in the next few days. In the meantime," she turned her attention to Connie, "you and Marcie should try to separate yourselves as much as possible—even a few feet will help, if you can't go further. Keep telepathic communication to a minimum, too. Also, Marcie has a lot of excess psychic energy as a result of her evolution, and burning that off will help weaken her telepathic field and slow the process down."

Connie remained silent and still, so Hayley jumped in. "Burn it off how? By lifting a lot of heavy things and stuff?"

The doctor shook her head. "Unfortunately, the Ralts line's psychic power is largely empathetic and telepathic, rather than telekinetic—it comes from a different part of the brain. Telekinesis is better than nothing at all, but to use up her energy effectively, Marcie needs a living target. A Pokémon rather than a human, of course, to avoid accidental injury."

Hayley balked. "You want her to fight?"

"I'm not suggesting she participate in a real battle," the doctor said. "At least not until Connie's license is restored and we know for sure how her being knocked out might affect their link. But training a move like hypnosis against an opponent that fights back is a safe way for her to tire herself out. A steel-type or dark-type would work best, because their minds are naturally shielded, but if you don't have one of them, anything except another psychic would be fine. Training against another psychic puts both parties at risk of resonance, which could be dangerous for both her and Connie."

Hayley looked at Connie, who was still hunched over in her chair. "Miriam has a Mawile," she said, more or less to the room. "Do you think that would work?"

At last, Connie tore her eyes from the desk. "I guess," she whispered—the first words she'd said in over half an hour. "As long as Marcie doesn't get hurt."

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Despite them all having been in the same class together, despite them all having ridden down to Petalburg in the same car together, Hayley had the bizarre feeling that she was supposed to formally introduce Miriam to Connie. She didn't, because, well, that was stupid. But maybe she should have, because it might have prevented the two of them sizing each other up like wary Poochyena as Hayley made her proposition.

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Right now, with her glasses and old clothes and air of palpable uncertainty, Connie mirrored Miriam far more than Hayley wanted to admit. Miriam stood with her arms crossed, while Connie kept hers at her sides and picked at the hem of her shirt. Marcie, glued to her leg, was staring at Yuna, who Miriam kept trying to herd behind her with one foot. Xena prickled with electricity as she swung her head between them, while Zero hovered completely motionless in the air. Finally, Miriam said, "So why do you want to beat up Yuna, again?"

"Not beat up,'" Hayley quickly supplied. "Just a spar where Marcie can use a lot of psychic techniques."

"What do you mean 'a lot'? Are you going to try and fry her brain or something?"

"No! It's just confusion and hypnosis, that sort of thing." Hayley glanced back at Connie, who flashed a thin, twitchy, completely unreassuring smile. "Marcie won't go too far. Right, Marcie?" Marcie inclined her head and blinked.

After considering this for a moment, Miriam waved Hayley closer. "Marcie freaks me the fuck out," she whispered when Hayley was within earshot. "I don't want Yuna to end up like that Machoke."

Hayley decided not to say that Marcie might be psychically eavesdropping on their conversation right now—or maybe just normally eavesdropping. Miriam wasn't great at being quiet. "You've fought psychics before. This shouldn't be any different."

"Okay, but those trainers didn't start those fights by talking about how their Pokémon are totally unstable—"

"She's not unstable. She just needs to let off some steam, like how Xena sometimes has to discharge her electricity." Miriam still didn't look convinced, so Hayley added, "If you'd caught that Abra in Granite Cave, you'd probably have to do the same thing."

"Well, I didn't catch that Abra. I wound up with Yuna instead—Yuna, for the last time, Zero is not food!" Yuna had taken advantage of the lapse in their attention to sneak over to the Porygon. It was floating just out of her reach, and she was crouched down like she was about to spring up and snatch it, jaw grinding and slavering with the promise of tasty rare metals. The moment Miriam scolded her, she stood up again and put her hands behind her back, her face the perfect picture of innocence as her jaw continued to drip caustic drool on the ground. Miriam groaned. "You know what? Fine. It's not like she wouldn't feed me to a psychic if she got the chance."

"Plus it'll be good practice, right?" Connie ventured, revealing that she was in fact still hearing at least part of the conversation. "For other psychic trainers, and Liza and Tate?"

"Yeah, sure. Just don't leave her brain-dead, all right? I still need her to beat Norman."

With that settled, they hashed out the rules. Yuna and Marcie would start on opposite sides of the yard, and on Hayley's mark, Yuna would move forward and try to reach Marcie. Marcie, meanwhile, would try to drive her back with hypnosis and confusion. If Yuna made it to Marcie, she would "tag" her with a light, blunt strike, and the round would end. Then they would reset, and the whole thing would start over again.

They each took their positions, walking over the low-cut grass. Connie's backyard was no League battlefield, but at least it was fenced to keep away prying eyes. Hayley stood along the fence at the rough midpoint of the field to act as a referee, while their other Pokémon gathered around her. Sen eyed Marcie, likely still curious about her psychic powers, while Barrett fixed his gaze on Yuna, hungry for a beatdown. Ceres stared into the middle distance, Xena's attention continued flicking between the two combatants, and Zero was as motionless and inscrutable as ever.

"Yuna versus Marcie. On my mark." Hayley raised one hand, then sliced it through the air. "Go!"

Immediately, Marcie's eyes glowed, and the air around both her and Yuna warped. Yuna shouted and shook her head, as though trying to physically fend off the assault. Miriam grit her teeth. "Don't let her get a grip on you! Run up and tackle!" With one more shake of her head, Yuna crouched down and lunged, jaw emitting a guttural snarl. Marcie flung out both hands and doubled down, her psychic tendrils clawing for purchase on Yuna's mind and body; Yuna pushed through like a linebacker plowing through an enemy team, but she got slower and slower as she went. At last, she froze completely a couple feet away from Marcie's hand, face contorted in rage as her limbs twitched helplessly. Marcie's eyes glowed brighter, the distortion around her horns increased, and suddenly, Yuna stopped struggling and stood straight up.

Connie smiled, and it was a real smile this time. "Make her dance."

Marcie drew one hand through the air, and as though she was a puppet on strings, Yuna followed. She held out one arm in front of her and one arm to the side, embracing an invisible partner, and began to waltz back and forth. Her face was slack, fully under Marcie's psychic influence, but some part of her brain must still have been free, because her jaw growled and thrashed from side to side. Its weight knocked her steps off-course, making her appear almost drunk as she staggered along the path Marcie laid for her.

"She's making you look like an idiot!" Miriam shouted, her own expression almost as enraged as Yuna's jaw. "Fight back and tag her! Come on!" Yuna's eyes focused briefly as Miriam's voice broke through, but Marcie furrowed her brow, and they glazed over again. In desperation, Miriam added, "I've got a motherboard with your name on it if you show her who's boss!"

That did the trick. Hunger and greed at last overwhelmed Marcie's psychic influence, and Yuna broke free. Marcie leapt back and scrambled to reestablish her hold, but Yuna was faster and tackled her to the ground. The grassy lawn wasn't packed hard enough to hurt the way a clay battlefield would, but Marcie still cried out and Connie still winced, as though she was the one who'd been hit. Hayley shot a hand back into the air.

"Round one's over! Back to your starting positions!" Yuna, though, took her time getting off of Marcie. She giggled as she slowly pushed herself to her feet, and her jaw chortled along, dripping a long strand of drool onto Marcie's face. Hayley, Connie, and Marcie all grimaced in unison, and Marcie sent Yuna tumbling away with a psychic blast. Still giggling, Yuna raced back to Miriam's feet and prepared herself for round two.

The session continued for over an hour. Eventually, Hayley stopped counting which round they were on. Marcie's new psychic reserves seemed almost inexhaustible, and Yuna was determined to overcome every form of mesmerism and trance that was thrown at her. She was made to dance, to hop on one foot, to walk along the ground using her jaw, and even to sing—everyone had to cover their ears at that last one. Miriam was visibly annoyed every time Yuna started doing something ridiculous, but Yuna seemed to see it as one big game, laughing gaily every time she broke through and tagged Marcie to end the match. Even Connie started chuckling quietly, despite the fact that Marcie was dead serious about the whole thing and refused to let so much as a grin flicker across her face, which somehow made it even funnier.

By the time the sun began sinking towards the horizon, Yuna was tottering around in a stupor, eyes crossed, still giggling to herself. Marcie had finally sunk to her knees and was breathing heavily, the distortion around her horns all but gone. Miriam was grumbling resentfully about how much junk she was going to have to find for Yuna to eat, and Connie, though still withdrawn, looked more like herself than she had all day. As for Hayley, her heart was light. Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

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The sunset was well underway by the time Hayley got everyone situated on the Pokémon Center practice field. It was a later start than she would have liked, but she'd promised Barrett they would do this today, so they were doing it today. Running through her mental checklist, she tried to think of anything she'd missed, and came up with nothing. She'd picked a field that put her as far as she could get from the few lingering trainers and the Center itself. She was dressed in a new fire-resistant long-sleeve shirt and pants, and had a fire blanket at her feet—all of which had been unprompted early birthday gifts from her mom, who had apparently spent the day biting her nails over whether Hayley was going to light herself on fire by accident. The ground was clear of anything that might possibly be flammable, and Ceres and Sen were off training in the corner, far enough away that they wouldn't get caught in an explosion but close enough that Ceres could still waddle up and take care of any accidents with water gun. Everything was set—at last, it was time to start teaching Barrett to use flame burst.

"You've come a long way, Barrett," she said. At her feet, Barrett stood stock-still, suppressing shivers of anticipation. "Remember three months ago, when all you could do was embers, or that tiny flame? You've done really well, and I'm proud of you. Flame burst is going to take you to the next level, just like fire spin did. But it's tricky, and it's dangerous. Mess it up, and you won't just hurt your opponent, you won't just hurt me—you might hurt yourself, too. Do you understand?" Barrett nodded eagerly, eyes gleaming at the promise of unparalleled destruction. "We're going to start small. And you have to follow my directions and do everything I say, especially if I say to stop. If you stop listening and do something dangerous, we'll stop working on the move and I won't let you battle for a week. Are you still listening?" Another nod. Hayley let out a long, slow breath and crouched down to the ground.

"Okay. In a way, flame burst is sort of a combination of fire spin and smog. But it's not exactly smog." As she spoke, she withdrew a stylus from her pocket and began scratching the shape of a Magby into the ground. "Because when you do a smog attack, what you're doing is making a bunch of smoke and poison in your stomach and breathing it out. When you breathe fire, you're making a really flammable gas and igniting it with a spark." She drew a circle in the stomach of the poorly-rendered Magby on the ground, then made a line up through the throat and out of the beak. "So for a flame burst, what you have to do is this. You start up a fire spin like normal, and keep the flames ready." In front of the Magby, she drew an orb. "Then you breathe out the gas that'll catch fire, without setting it on fire. Then…" She connected the "gas" line to the "fire spin" circle. "You pull your fire spin around that gas, forcing it into a little ball. If you do it just right, you can use the pressure of the fire to push away the gas from the flames, which stops the whole thing from blowing up. Then you throw the whole thing at your opponent." She drew an arrow from the orb, pointing away from the Magby, and drew another, larger orb at its tip. Around this one, she drew a series of pointed rays, like a child's drawing of a sun. "And when you're ready, you crush the flames in, and the attack explodes."

Barrett was enraptured. Unable to contain himself any longer, he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, spewing smoke from his beak. "All of that makes sense to you, right?" Barrett gave a shouting grunt, bobbing his head in affirmation. "Good. Now let's talk about why it's dangerous. First of all, explosions are dangerous, in a way regular fire isn't. You have to use this move carefully, or else someone can get really hurt. And second, like I said before, that someone who gets hurt might be you. It's really, really hard to keep a flame burst from blowing up before you want it to, and if you're not careful, it'll blow up right in your face. That's why we're going to start small and make sure you know how everything works before we even think about using it as an attack. Got it?"

Eyes dimming slightly, Barrett grumbled, but he nodded all the same. Hayley smiled at him and stood back up. "All right. Stay here, and I'm going to go over there," she pointed at a spot a few yards away, "so you don't hit me by accident. Remember, do everything exactly like I say, and you'll get the hang of it in no time."

As much as being in Petalburg felt like a step backwards, Hayley wasn't where she was three months ago. The fact that Barrett, despite chafing under her direction, still begrudgingly listened to what she had to say; the fact that she had two other Pokémon who were willing to step in if something went wrong; the fact that Miriam wasn't going to scowl and insult her the moment she went back to the dorm room; the fact that, at least in training sessions and battles, she finally knew what she was doing—she held on to these signs of progress with everything she had, and reminded herself that they meant she wasn't just some lost, struggling kid. She was a trainer, and as long as she remembered that, she could do this. She could do this.