Title: Scars
Author: Shadow/Phantomness
Pairing: Championshipping (Lance x Red/Ash)
Fandom: Pokémon
Theme: #39, Scar

Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: <> for telepathy, ** for thoughts, italics if a pokemon talks

Warnings: Shonen-ai

 

            “Lance…”

            “Yes, Red?” The Dragon Master asked, slipping his black gloves back on. He opened the door to find the Champion standing there with an unhappy expression.

            “I…” Red took a deep breath to steady him self. “I just got a phone call from Clair. Your grandfather’s dead.”

            “Oh.” Lance half-smiled. “I see. Did she make the funeral arrangements already?”

            “No, she’s waiting for you to go home and do it.”

            “Then I will. Thank you for notifying me, Red.” Lance slipped past him, and Red nodded mutely.

            Shouldn’t Lance be… well, sad?

 

            “So, you came. I didn’t expect you to.”

            Lance smirked. “I don’t owe that bastard any favors, but we’ll make it quick.”

            “As you wish.” Clair shrugged. She sighed. “Are you still wearing them then?”

            “Of course. I have no desire for anyone else to see what my loving grandparent did.” Lance felt his hands fist, and winced, as his nails dug into the thick fabric of his gloves. “Charizard. Flamethrower.”

            The dragon pokemon obeyed, setting the man’s funeral pyre up in smoke. The two of them stood in silence; before finally, Clair gave Lance a comforting smile and walked him back out.

            It was finished.

            If only all scars were vanquished so easily…

 

            “You’re back already?”

            Lance nodded.

            Red discreetly checked his watch. It had been barely three hours. “Oh.”

            “Did you miss me, Champion?” The Dragon Master asked, half in jest. “It matters little. The deed is done.”

            Something in his tone warned Red not to pry further, so he didn’t. After all, he’d only been Champion for three weeks and he didn’t want Lance to get mad at him. He still had to stay at the Plateau for at least six months!

            Red watched Lance, but he made no other motions, and finally, Red left the room and went back to work.

 

            He slowly slid his gloves off, eyes raking over the pentagram designs carved into the backs of his hands. He’d never wanted this power. He’d never wanted this madness. But he’d been too young to protest and they had bound it to him regardless.

            “If you wanted power so much, you should have wagered your own life, Grandfather.” Lance hissed. “But it means little now. You are dead and I hope the judges condemn you to eternal darkness.”

            Of course, there was no reply. Lance did not expect one. He picked up his pen and began to work on the next piece of legislation, unaware of the prying eyes watching from the security kiosk.

 

            Red shuddered. He quickly went back to work, trying to ignore the niggling sensation in his head.

            What were those things?

            They looked dangerous, and from Lance’s mutterings, Red deduced that Lance didn’t like them.

            Maybe they were a Clan symbol?

            He finished reading over the proposal, vetoed it, and then went online to search.

 

            Half an hour later, he had an answer. Thank goodness for Wikipedia. It seemed that what Lance had carved into the backs of his hands were essentially pokemon control markings. They seemed to serve the same function as gym badges, only the more they were used, the faster the user’s soul was stripped away.

            Somehow, Red did not think Lance wanted them very much.

            It might explain how Lance had become Dragon Master and Leader of the Elite Four so quickly, but at what cost? It seemed horrible, and Red didn’t stop to read the whole article since he was already feeling ill from the summary.

            They didn’t seem fake, so…

            Poor Lance!

 

            However, what could he possibly do about it? There didn’t seem to be a way to remove them, though you could choose not to use them.

            Red really hoped Lance was making wise decisions. But why was he thinking so much about the man? They weren’t really friends.

            The Champion sighed. He really was thinking too much about this. It was Lance’s problem, not his, and he shouldn’t butt in.

            He had other things to do, after all.

            Still, it didn’t stop him from watching Lance after that, and seeing him still walking and breathing gave Red some small measure of comfort.

            Why?

            Perhaps someday he would figure it out. Until then, he got to know the older teen better, when they chatted between battles, and he tried to ignore the way his pokémon seemed to know something he didn’t.

 

End Fic

Completed 3/29/07

Almost shonen-ai ^^ According to Crime and Punishment, pity is better than love for garnering affection, so! ^^

Lance: *Sighs*

Red: I’m so clueless!

Phantomness: Of course you are! *Beams* But in a good way

Red: *Sniffles*

Lance: *Smirks and molests Red* Now, now, don’t be like that

Shoyko: Angst! NOOOOO!