There were lights.

She knew there were. An inkling of them pierced through even her eyelids and she could see them faintly even with her eyes closed. How bright they were, she'd never know. She just couldn't open her eyes, even though, Arceus be damned, she was trying.

Or maybe she was just hoping there was light. Hoping she wasn't in the dark. Hoping that she would see light again, eventually.

And then his voice. “Delaney, you did it. You fucking did it. Now wake up.” He paused. She could hear a raspiness in his voice, as if he were crying, or about to. Him crying. Now that she'd like to see.

But she couldn't. Why couldn't she open her eyes?

“Delaney, please wake up,” he urged her, panic rising in his voice. “I can see your chest moving. I know you're alive. Please just open those eyes.”

“Stop staring at her chest, pervert,” she could hear Dax's higher-pitched voice say in disgust. If she could, she would smile. She could just imagine the looks they were giving each other. Dax was surely looking at him, utterly revolted and he was certainly rolling his eyes at Dax, if not burning a hole through him with his glare.

“Really, kid? You think now's the time?” he said, his tone turning icy. “All that matters right now is that she's okay. I don't know how to get her to wake up.”

“Lucas is on his way,” Dax said. “He's bringing the authorities with him. That guy Looker is eager to put Cyrus away for a long, long time. I just hope he thought to bring a doctor or something. Delaney's hurt pretty bad.”

“I have to get out of here before they get here,” he muttered. If there was any time to wake up, it was now. This was precisely the moment she had feared- the downfall of Team Galactic was the downfall of him as well. This was the part where he had to get far, far away.

But they knew this was going to happen. He had ruined her, she had ruined him.

But despite knowing this, she still was willing herself to open her fucking eyes, so that she could try to convince him to stay, or that maybe she should leave with him. She knew that was useless, though- she could never survive out there, cutoff from her father, her friends, her life. She had known from the beginning that this was temporary.

No matter how brightly the flame burned, eventually the wind would blow it out.

But damn it, the least she could do was open her eyes and tell him goodbye. Tell him to come back for her, or at least write her to let her know he was safe. Tell her whenever he moved on with his life, so she could do the same.

The hand holding Delaney's let go suddenly, and then she knew- this was it. This was her last chance to just fucking open her eyes!

But she was no closer to the light than she had been moments (seconds? Hours? How much time had past since she was laying there?) before. “I'm sorry,” said the wind. “I'll be thinking of you every day.”

And then nobody spoke for what felt like years.

She knew Dax was still there, but even his chipper, energetic self had nothing to say. He didn't grab the hand that he had left abandoned on the ground. He didn't take his post at her side. He didn't even try to urge her awake.

The next voice she heard was undeniably Looker's. “Whoa,” was all he could say.

What else was there to say?

When Delaney felt the light hitting her eyelids this time, she didn't have to fight them open. She would've rather had to battle to have to see her perfectly organized room in the late morning sun if she could have just opened her eyes that day, that day that had been approximately two hundred and two days ago.

Though these dreams didn't ruin the entire upcoming day for her anymore. Some progress is still progress.

Not good enough progress, though, in Delaney's book. There were very few possibilities for the upcoming day that wouldn't still leave her with a bitter taste in her mouth. She had to get her mind off of things. It was unlikely that Dax or even Lucas would be by to visit her, so her only option was to fill her day with meaningless tasks that served no purpose other than to direct her focus elsewhere.

Step one: go running around route 212 for an hour or so.

Pleased at having settled on a task for the remainder of the morning, Delaney hopped out of the bed, her feet hitting the plush pink carpet under her feet with a satisfying thump. She tossed the purple tank top and white cotton shorts she was wearing off to the side in a crumpled heap and fought the urge to pick them up. She had never liked the idea of anybody else cleaning her room, being a rather clean person by nature, but organizing (and reorganizing... and reorganizing again) her room always sent her off on cleaning fits, especially now that she was home from traveling, and some of the newer maids were complaining that they had nothing to do. She figured that they'd be glad for a break from cleaning the giant (and mostly empty) house, but apparently it had gotten to the point where Delaney was doing their jobs for them and they were worrying that the Caldwell family would render some of them useless and lay them off.

Blake would never do that, of course, and Delaney would never allow him to, but to assuage the younger maids' fears, Delaney once in awhile left a small pile of clothing on her floor, or purposefully left a cup on her bedside table, just to give them five minutes of something to do. Annette in particular loved an excuse to go into Delaney's wardrobe to get to her laundry pile and Delaney was happy to oblige... sometimes.

Now that she had nowhere really to go, the only use of her wardrobe was the chest of drawers that held her pajamas, sweatpants and exercise clothes. Delaney wandered over to it and grabbed a black pair of sweatpants and a simple blue t-shirt out of the bottom drawer. She glanced briefly at the rows of expensive jeans, shirts and dresses, but there was really no point in putting them on unless she was having visitors, and by visitors, she meant people other than Dax. Sure, every once in awhile, the somewhat vain blonde boy that she had met on her journeys, the boy who had become her closest friend, liked to remind Delaney that highly-ranked trainers should be doing more than just sulking around in sweatpants and how long has it been since you've battled with your Pokemon? Too long! At that point, Delaney would simply reply that she let them out every single day to exercise and that often, her Infernape, Blitzkrieg, went running with her around route 212.

But an hour's run isn't what you've spent months training for, Delaney. Your Pokemon should be fighting, and they should be training with the best, instead of sparring with random rich kids that come to see the garden.

Point one: Dax, though she would never tell him that he was right. Instead, she would tell him to shut up, and it was time to wander. The duo had made it a point to explore the wings of the elaborate Pokemon Mansion, the wings that nobody had been in but maids since the house had been purchased before Delaney was born. She was beginning to think her mother had been in some of them, though- once in awhile, they'd find a forgotten vase with long dead roses, or daisies, in a corner on a small, dusty table.

'Maybe Annette should go through those rooms instead of worrying about my laundry,' Delaney thought wryly. She slipped the exercise clothes on, debating on whether she should take Blitzkrieg with her or not. She finally decided not to, but mentally promised the Pokemon that later maybe she would ride her bike up to Hearthrome and take a walk with Blitzkrieg around Amity Square. It was a rather fun time, considering that the main visitors of the park were snooty old city women with their Bunearys and Pachirisus who did a double take when Delaney walked by with her Infernape.

Delaney didn't even look at her shoe collection gathering dust at the other end of the room, instead opting to throw on the worn out sneakers laying beside her bed. She glanced in the mirror and frowned a little bit. Despite the relatively small effect that the dreams were having on her (well, small compared to the nights she had spent over the first couple of months screaming and crying in her sleep), she still looked exhausted. Dark bags were even more noticeable on Delaney's pale face, gathering shadows below her wide violet eyes. She grabbed a comb from a vanity drawer and haphazardly ran it through her long pale hair. When she had been traveling and often in the sun, color had filled her cheeks and her platinum hair had gleamed in the bright light of the day. Now, though, despite how much time Delaney spent running around route 212, she just couldn't get that color back. She seemed as white as a sheet, from head to toe, every moment of every day.

She jogged casually down the main staircase, waving hello to Bridget and Aslynn who were heading up, more than likely to check on her room. She couldn't help but think to herself that Annette would be disappointed that she hadn't gotten there first.

The petite blonde girl, though, the youngest of the Caldwell family's help, was at the foot of the stairs, waiting for her with a big smile on her face and a small, square box in her hands. Delaney made a mental note to clear her closet of things that she knew she would never wear again and give them to Annette. She had taken a liking to the girl, who had started working at the house soon after Delaney had ended her journey. “Miss Delaney!” she shouted eagerly, despite the fact that Delaney had told her hundreds of time that she could just call her Delaney. “You have a package!”

“Who's it from?” she asked, scrunching up her nose in confusion. Probably Dax, sending her a scarf or a necklace or whatever from wherever he was at. Other than Dax, she couldn't imagine who would want to send her anything. She had been away from training for so long, and isolated from almost everyone, so it wasn't like she had a ton of friends or admirers just clamoring to give her presents.

“I don't know!” the young girl squealed. “It was just sitting on the porch when I went out to ask your father a question. How exciting!” Annette thrust the package in her hands as soon as Delaney reached the bottom step. Delaney chuckled to herself as she examined the package. Her name and address were printed carefully on the top, but other than that, nothing had been written.

She carefully opened the box, which had been loosely taped on one of the sides. It took her a moment to get enough of it off to be able to open the top, but once the box was open, she only had more questions.

Inside were a Pokeball and a note, folded over several times. But which to open first?

Delaney opted for the Pokeball, curiosity getting the best of her (though she was dying to know who had sent it, and hopefully the note said that). The idea that a savage beast such as a Magmortar or a Garchomp or whatever else (Delaney didn't even want to think of whatever else could be) with specific instructions to fry her as soon as it was released crossed her mind briefly. After all, Delaney was sure she was at the top of some shit lists.

Well, that was a risk she was going to have to take. She was just far too curious.

She hesitantly released whatever Pokemon was waiting for her, cringing a bit as a burst of white light was emitted from the ball. The light eventually got smaller though and eventually gave way to a small, blue Pokemon that Delaney had never seen before- and this was coming from a girl who had three empty spaces left in her Pokedex. Somehow though, Delaney didn't think this was one of those three.

The Pokemon looked up at her, blinking in confusion. Though most of his body was teal, his head and arms were white. His feet, tail and ears were navy blue. Judging by the baby yellow shell that rested on his abdomen, he was more than likely a water Pokemon. At any rate, he was definitely young and definitely needed some care. Delaney and Annette looked at the little Pokemon, who was staring back at them with wide black eyes. “What is it?” Annette finally asked, her once excited voice a bit quiet. “And who sent it to you? Professor Rowan, maybe?”

Delaney shook her head, a few strands of her ponytail coming loose. “I don't think so. The professor would've had Lucas deliver it, and you know who Lucas is.”

“Well, read the note, silly!” Annette squealed, regaining her peppy demeanor, more excited than Delaney herself to see what the Pokemon was.

Delaney couldn't explain why, but her hands were shaking as she grabbed the yellow piece of paper from the bottom of the box. The edges of one of the side was ripped, as if the paper had been hurriedly torn from some random legal pad. She took her sweet time unfolding the note, though Annette looked like she just wanted to burst.

All of the sudden, she was afraid to find out who it was from.

When she finally finished unfolding the paper, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself, though she didn't know for what. Finally, she allowed herself to read the words on the page.

It's an Oshawott.

Delaney's breath caught in her throat. Two hundred and two days without seeing him, hearing from him. Here he was. Right here. The letters that formed the words that her eyes were hungrily lapping up and her brain was trying (but failing) to digest- they were proof that he was alive, proof that he was free. Proof that she was still on his mind, just like he promised.

I know you'll have questions. I hope one day I'll be answer them, but now is not the time for questions.

Ironic how that was all she had. Questions.

You need to leave Sinnoh immediately. You aren't safe there.

I can't tell you why. I can't tell you anything. Just trust me. Get out of Sinnoh as fast as you can. The time will come when you won't be able to.

Delaney hadn't even realized that Annette had left until she knelt down by Delaney with a glass of water. “That wasn't Professor Rowan, was it?” she asked in a hushed voice.

All Delaney could do was shake her head. She couldn't speak. She definitely couldn't even think.

Come to Unova.

Her eyes wandered around the room, from Annette's worried expression to the still confused look on the Oshawott's face to-

“Delaney, is everything okay?” her father asked, offering her a hand to help her off the floor. Delaney hadn't even realized she was on the floor. He was dressed in his navy suit, which meant that he was on his way to an important meeting. Now wasn't the time to tell him about the letter.

His eyes fell upon the Oshawott. “What is this? It's not from Sinnoh, is it?”

“No,” she finally choked out. She cleared her throat. “He's from Unova. He's an Oshawott.”

“I'll take a good look at him when I get back. Crasher Wake and I are meeting to discuss the, uh, renovations to be made to one of the areas.” Or the area where Team Galactic bombed, but you know, tomato, tomAHto. “I'll be back in a couple of hours.” He paused, and took another look at his daughter. “Are you sure you're okay, Delly?”

Not that she had answered before, but that was probably a good thing. She managed a weak smile for her father and cleared her throat again. “I'm fine, Daddy,” she responded, clutching the letter in her right hand. “Everything is just fine.”

You need to leave Sinnoh immediately. You aren't safe there.