lilbluecorsola
Binky-boo! <3
~¤Recollecting Rainbows¤~ (A more-than-one-shot)
(I'm really sorry for trying to cheat the swear filter, but I honestly feel the story isn't the same without the swears. If this is majorly against the rules please let me know.)
This was originally supposed to be a sidestory of Chasing Rainbows, but since I know I'll never finish a complete chaptered Fanfiction, I decided to write it like this instead. I really, really like this story, so I wanted to at least post this, if nothing else.
More parts will be coming. There will probably be at least three in total, and storywise will be in reverse chronological order, since all except Part I were intended to be flashbacks.
So here's Part I. <3
Today a stranger stood in front of the Ketchum household. Well, not a stranger exactly, but he was strange in that his appearance didn’t fit in at all with the austere rustic scenery around him. Flaming red hair, a grand cloak, and eyes of brilliant gold gave him the air of a champion. But there was no way a person of his standard would come to visit this small house in a place like Pallet Town, the people thought, and so they passed on by. Small children stopped and stared, and whispered amongst themselves, but they all thought it was just some weirdo dressing up. It couldn’t be Lance. Not the Lance, head of the Elite Four, champion of two entire regions; Kanto and Johto. Naw, couldn’t be him.
So the dubbed stranger stood alone on the steps of the porch, staring at the charming front door and windows, the roses in the garden, and the little white picket fence. The calm, surreal world almost seemed to push him away, as if it sensed he didn’t quite belong in this kind of place.
He knocked on the charming front door.
“Can I help you?”
He started, and turned around to see a fair-haired young woman with a beautiful face, holding a basket of flowers in her hands. She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. There’s no one home right now, so I thought I should tell you.”
The man stared at her. “Hannah.”
“Excuse me?” The look he was giving her made her slightly uncomfortable. Who was Hannah?
He did a double take, examining her appearance again more closely, and shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Please forget about it.” He started walking, his cloak fluttering as he brushed past her. The girl turned and looked at the solemn figure carrying itself away from the house, clearly intent on never coming back. Her eyes lit up with realization.
“My mother’s name was Hannah,” she called, and he hesitated. “Did you know her?”
He turned, slowly. “You’re speaking in past tense,” he noted delicately.
“Yes. I’m sorry. Did you not know? She’s been dead for fifteen years.”
“No, I wasn’t aware of that.” He paused, searching for words he consequently suppressed. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It’s all right.” She smiled softly, realizing he was more in need of comfort than she. “I was actually on my way to visit her grave now. You can come if you’d like.”
He nodded, and trailed behind her as she continued on her way towards the edge of town, where the cliffs overlooked an ocean spreading endlessly towards the south. Far off in the distance, a dark haze indicated where Cinnabar Island lay.
The girl knelt in front of the grave marker, placing the flowers on the dark earth. The man stood aside, gazing at the haze in the distance as she spoke ordinary words of conversation he didn’t care to listen to. It wasn’t until long after she’d gone that he noticed her absence, and the fact she’d left the basket with a lone blossom still in it. For a moment, he hesitated. But there was no one watching, unless you counted spirits. So he took the flower and knelt before the stone, laying the bloom gently across. He tried to think of something to say, but despite being alone and confronted with recollections of the past, he couldn’t allow any words to escape his lips.
Hours later, Professor Oak trudged up the hill to find the man still there, his back resting against the stone as he still stared into the distance at the mist gathering on the sea. He stood immediately upon seeing the old man approaching, an expression of fear or panic revealing itself on his face for an instant. Then he quickly gathered himself and resumed formalities. “Professor,” he nodded in respectful acknowledgment.
The senior returned the stoic greeting. “Lance.”
There followed a minute of strained silence. At last the professor made a movement, towards the grave. As he passed, Lance noticed flowers in his aged hands. Was that his reason for coming here? Or an excuse?
“I’ll be leaving then,” he muttered, starting down the path. He knew he could just call out Dragonite to FLY him to wherever he wanted to go, but he felt that, like himself, a great dragon Pokémon would appear too impressive for this scene. Also he might feel sick if he tried to fly anyway.
“Are you going to talk to Delia?”
He stopped, though neither of them turned to look at the other. “She’s not home, right? I don’t see how I can talk to her without seeing her.”
“Then stay. Or come back another time. Or go and look for her. It’s been fifteen years, damnit. Why didn’t you come back?”
Lance whirled around, fists clenched as his tone rose in anger. “What about Hannah? Why didn’t anyone tell me she died too? I would have come had I known…”
The elder slowly rose to his feet, gazing at the boy, the champion, the stranger. “In all this time, why didn’t you come back? You could have seen for yourself how she was.”
Lance wanted to yell something defiant, like a child. But he wasn’t a child. Children were forgiven for their mistakes. And he didn’t want to be forgiven.
The professor’s ancient hand came to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s the way this town works. We don’t talk about things that happen outside our own world. Maybe it was too long ago – too late for you to understand.”
Lance didn’t say anything.
“At least talk to Delia. She’s been wanting to see you.”
“Sorry. It’s too late.”
“You’re a bastar d.”
“I know.”
Later, as he was leaving town on foot, Lance spotted the girl from earlier at the bottom of the hill where the Professor’s Laboratory resided. She was with a teenage boy with brown hair, and they were apparently having an argument.
“What do you mean you’ve never gone to visit her? Go today! I’m sure she wants to see you.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Come on, don’t be so stubborn.”
“Shut up! It’s my birthday too, you know!”
“Gary, I-“
“Shut up. I know I’m a bastar d.”
With that, he ran up towards the lab. The slam of the door could be heard from where Lance and the girl were standing. She looked like she was about to cry, so he went to her without thinking. Remembering he was carrying her basket, he offered it to her lamely.
“Um, you forgot this.”
She wiped her eyes and took it from him. “Thanks,” she sniffed, clutching the basket close to her chest.
A thought struck the man as he glanced towards the Lab. “…That boy just now. Who was he?”
“Oh, that was my brother. Sorry you had to see-“
“How old is he?”
She paused, staring into the empty container in her hands for a while. Then she looked towards the building as well, above which the sky was turning red and orange, with pale pink clouds drifting off towards the sea.
“He’s fifteen,” she answered softly.
“I see. Thanks.” Suddenly, without warning, he started laughing. Or maybe he really wanted to cry, but his body wouldn’t let him. Because it didn’t seem right to cry in a place like this.
Not in a place like Pallet Town.
(I'm really sorry for trying to cheat the swear filter, but I honestly feel the story isn't the same without the swears. If this is majorly against the rules please let me know.)
This was originally supposed to be a sidestory of Chasing Rainbows, but since I know I'll never finish a complete chaptered Fanfiction, I decided to write it like this instead. I really, really like this story, so I wanted to at least post this, if nothing else.
More parts will be coming. There will probably be at least three in total, and storywise will be in reverse chronological order, since all except Part I were intended to be flashbacks.
So here's Part I. <3
I.
Today a stranger stood in front of the Ketchum household. Well, not a stranger exactly, but he was strange in that his appearance didn’t fit in at all with the austere rustic scenery around him. Flaming red hair, a grand cloak, and eyes of brilliant gold gave him the air of a champion. But there was no way a person of his standard would come to visit this small house in a place like Pallet Town, the people thought, and so they passed on by. Small children stopped and stared, and whispered amongst themselves, but they all thought it was just some weirdo dressing up. It couldn’t be Lance. Not the Lance, head of the Elite Four, champion of two entire regions; Kanto and Johto. Naw, couldn’t be him.
So the dubbed stranger stood alone on the steps of the porch, staring at the charming front door and windows, the roses in the garden, and the little white picket fence. The calm, surreal world almost seemed to push him away, as if it sensed he didn’t quite belong in this kind of place.
He knocked on the charming front door.
“Can I help you?”
He started, and turned around to see a fair-haired young woman with a beautiful face, holding a basket of flowers in her hands. She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. There’s no one home right now, so I thought I should tell you.”
The man stared at her. “Hannah.”
“Excuse me?” The look he was giving her made her slightly uncomfortable. Who was Hannah?
He did a double take, examining her appearance again more closely, and shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Please forget about it.” He started walking, his cloak fluttering as he brushed past her. The girl turned and looked at the solemn figure carrying itself away from the house, clearly intent on never coming back. Her eyes lit up with realization.
“My mother’s name was Hannah,” she called, and he hesitated. “Did you know her?”
He turned, slowly. “You’re speaking in past tense,” he noted delicately.
“Yes. I’m sorry. Did you not know? She’s been dead for fifteen years.”
“No, I wasn’t aware of that.” He paused, searching for words he consequently suppressed. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It’s all right.” She smiled softly, realizing he was more in need of comfort than she. “I was actually on my way to visit her grave now. You can come if you’d like.”
He nodded, and trailed behind her as she continued on her way towards the edge of town, where the cliffs overlooked an ocean spreading endlessly towards the south. Far off in the distance, a dark haze indicated where Cinnabar Island lay.
The girl knelt in front of the grave marker, placing the flowers on the dark earth. The man stood aside, gazing at the haze in the distance as she spoke ordinary words of conversation he didn’t care to listen to. It wasn’t until long after she’d gone that he noticed her absence, and the fact she’d left the basket with a lone blossom still in it. For a moment, he hesitated. But there was no one watching, unless you counted spirits. So he took the flower and knelt before the stone, laying the bloom gently across. He tried to think of something to say, but despite being alone and confronted with recollections of the past, he couldn’t allow any words to escape his lips.
Hours later, Professor Oak trudged up the hill to find the man still there, his back resting against the stone as he still stared into the distance at the mist gathering on the sea. He stood immediately upon seeing the old man approaching, an expression of fear or panic revealing itself on his face for an instant. Then he quickly gathered himself and resumed formalities. “Professor,” he nodded in respectful acknowledgment.
The senior returned the stoic greeting. “Lance.”
There followed a minute of strained silence. At last the professor made a movement, towards the grave. As he passed, Lance noticed flowers in his aged hands. Was that his reason for coming here? Or an excuse?
“I’ll be leaving then,” he muttered, starting down the path. He knew he could just call out Dragonite to FLY him to wherever he wanted to go, but he felt that, like himself, a great dragon Pokémon would appear too impressive for this scene. Also he might feel sick if he tried to fly anyway.
“Are you going to talk to Delia?”
He stopped, though neither of them turned to look at the other. “She’s not home, right? I don’t see how I can talk to her without seeing her.”
“Then stay. Or come back another time. Or go and look for her. It’s been fifteen years, damnit. Why didn’t you come back?”
Lance whirled around, fists clenched as his tone rose in anger. “What about Hannah? Why didn’t anyone tell me she died too? I would have come had I known…”
The elder slowly rose to his feet, gazing at the boy, the champion, the stranger. “In all this time, why didn’t you come back? You could have seen for yourself how she was.”
Lance wanted to yell something defiant, like a child. But he wasn’t a child. Children were forgiven for their mistakes. And he didn’t want to be forgiven.
The professor’s ancient hand came to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s the way this town works. We don’t talk about things that happen outside our own world. Maybe it was too long ago – too late for you to understand.”
Lance didn’t say anything.
“At least talk to Delia. She’s been wanting to see you.”
“Sorry. It’s too late.”
“You’re a bastar d.”
“I know.”
Later, as he was leaving town on foot, Lance spotted the girl from earlier at the bottom of the hill where the Professor’s Laboratory resided. She was with a teenage boy with brown hair, and they were apparently having an argument.
“What do you mean you’ve never gone to visit her? Go today! I’m sure she wants to see you.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Come on, don’t be so stubborn.”
“Shut up! It’s my birthday too, you know!”
“Gary, I-“
“Shut up. I know I’m a bastar d.”
With that, he ran up towards the lab. The slam of the door could be heard from where Lance and the girl were standing. She looked like she was about to cry, so he went to her without thinking. Remembering he was carrying her basket, he offered it to her lamely.
“Um, you forgot this.”
She wiped her eyes and took it from him. “Thanks,” she sniffed, clutching the basket close to her chest.
A thought struck the man as he glanced towards the Lab. “…That boy just now. Who was he?”
“Oh, that was my brother. Sorry you had to see-“
“How old is he?”
She paused, staring into the empty container in her hands for a while. Then she looked towards the building as well, above which the sky was turning red and orange, with pale pink clouds drifting off towards the sea.
“He’s fifteen,” she answered softly.
“I see. Thanks.” Suddenly, without warning, he started laughing. Or maybe he really wanted to cry, but his body wouldn’t let him. Because it didn’t seem right to cry in a place like this.
Not in a place like Pallet Town.
* I've missed your writing and I'm glad you've come back. You still on AIM by the way???