Chapter 13
“
Great, he’s drunk again,” Shelton thought as Dorian plopped down next to her on the sofa.
The sweet smell of whiskey filled her nose as he crossed his arms and started staring at the floor. The smell hung on him like a stubborn rainstorm, unwilling to move along. She looked him up and down, taking in the sight of his tired eyes and unshaven face. His suit had a small amber stain near the collar and for some reason that slight imperfection annoyed her more than his demeanor. As the executor of Ronnie’s will started talking from the chair across from her she found herself trying to remove the stain with her eyes.
“Did you hear me, Ms. Street?” the mustached man asked.
“I’m sorry?” Shelton uttered, turning her attention back to the man.
“I said that Mr. Dvakna’s checking and savings account has been divided equally between the both of your Fidelity Trust accounts here in Pewter. The total comes to almost 224,000 credits each.”
“That’s fine,” Shelton nodded.
“An additional amount of 65,000 has been withheld from his savings account at Pewter Mutual until you dictate what you want done with it. Mr. Dvakna’s wish for that amount was for the both of you to agree to pay off the remaining mortgage on his home so that you would own it free and clear. If you agree, I will use the amount to pay off the remaining balance and divide the leftover credits between both your accounts. The bank already has instructions that ownership of the home would pass to both of you in the case of his death.”
Shelton thought for a moment. Paying off the home was the smartest option, especially when Ronnie left specific instructions that that was what he wanted. She didn’t think she’d be able to live there anymore but the potential resale value of the home would net them a healthy profit. She had no intention of selling the house anytime soon, but it didn’t hurt to plan ahead. She turned to look at Dorian to ask his opinion but he would not meet her gaze. Shelton kicked him lightly with her foot to get his attention, and he threw up both hands in mock exasperation.
“That’s fine, just go ahead and use the money to pay off the balance,” Shelton told the man.
“Wonderful, I should have the property paperwork for you to sign tomorrow morning, along with the receipt for the transfer of the remaining credits. Anyway, I was contacted by your former guardian’s attorney and he wanted me to let both of you know that another 225,000 credits would be deposited into both your accounts within the month. Apparently you were both listed as beneficiaries for his life insurance policy.”
“Okay.”
“Mr. Dvakna had three more points he wanted me to discuss with you. The first, was that all of his personal possessions would be divided equally between the two of you when you decide what you want to do with them. Second, was that legal ownership of his Kecleon would be transferred to you, Ms. Street, with the understanding that Kecleon has the right to choose which one of you to live with should you change your current living situation. The third and final point was that legal ownership of his motorcycle would be transferred to Dorian Dvakna. I can handle both transfers of ownership for the Pokemon and the motorcycle, and I will have the paperwork for both of you to sign tomorrow morning along with the property paperwork.”
“That sounds fine,” Shelton nodded.
“Would you prefer I come back to your residence or would you like to meet at my office?”
“We’ll come to your office. What time would be best?”
“I can pencil you in at ten, if that will work for you.”
“That sounds fine, thank you.”
The man stood to leave and lightly shook Shelton’s hand. He turned to do the same to Dorian, and then shifted uncomfortably on his heels as Dorian elected not to adhere to common courtesy. The man nodded to Shelton and started off towards the door. As he reached it though, he paused and came back to them, pulling two identical envelopes from his jacket.
“I almost forgot,” the man explained. “These were left for the both of you. They were inside Mr. Dvakna’s safety deposit box; the bank brought them to me when they saw that
the contents of the box should be turned over to you in the event of his death. Each has one of your names on them, so I assume they are his final wishes for both of you. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Shelton nodded.
The man left after that sentiment, leaving them alone in Ronnie’s living room. It was silent inside the quaint house, silent and completely still. She looked at Dorian but said nothing. He kept staring at the ground until a shape coming out of the kitchen caused both of them to look up. Shuppet, Nuzleaf, Machoke, and Growlithe shuffled around the corner, all wearing slightly similar expressions of sadness. They all took places in front of their respective trainers without a word.
They had buried Ronnie a few hours ago in a small cemetery in Pewter’s northeastern corner. The sun had been shining bright overhead in the deep blue sky. To Shelton, it was almost like the weather was mocking them. Usually the sight of the full sun and warm temperature made her happy, but it seemed almost cruel in contrast with the depressed atmosphere of the small group gathered to bury her former guardian. The people who came were mostly work colleagues and a few childhood friends, not much family seeing as how he and Dorian had been the last of their family name. It had been a nice ceremony of quiet song and gentle wind. Drying leaves rustled all around, their scratching sound overlapping each other to form a soothing melody. After he was lowered into the ground, Dorian had turned and walked away, leaving Shelton alone to receive condolences from the small group of people.
She sighed loudly to try and get him out of his funk but it didn’t work. He just kept staring down like a zombie. Shelton shook her head and looked at the letters. One was addressed with her name and address and one was likewise written for Dorian. She held his out to him but he didn’t take it. Frustrated, she threw it at his chest. After it fell down into his lap he tucked it into his pocket and got up without looking at her.
“Where are you goi-“ Shelton started.
“Out,” Dorian said simply, straightening his jacket and walking towards the door.
“Nunuz,” Nuzleaf called after him, climbing to his feet as his owner passed him.
“No, just stay here with them,” Dorian responded harshly. He was out the door a moment later, making no effort to hide his displeasure as he slammed the door loudly behind him. Shelton heard Ronnie’s motorcycle roar to life out front, followed by the sound of squealing tires.
Shelton felt her lower lip quiver slightly as Nuzleaf turned around and slowly walked down the hall towards Dorian’s old room. He shouldn’t have spoken to Nuzleaf like that. It was so uncharacteristic and careless. Shelton knew this situation was a heavy blow to Dorian’s livelihood but it didn’t give him the right to treat either of them so brashly. Didn’t he know that this was just as equally difficult for her? Granted Ronnie wasn’t biologically related to her, but he had been there the hour she was born and had taken care of her ever since; he was her father too. She looked at the three Pokemon left in front of her.
“Machoke, how about you go get Vibrava out of Dorian’s room and take everyone to the quarry?” Shelton suggested. “Take Nuzleaf with you too and try to cheer him up a little. In fact, take that Spoink’s pokeball with you too and introduce yourselves. Just go have some fun for a bit, I think I’m going to take a nap.”
“Choke, Machoke?” Machoke asked.
“That’s fine, but Nuzleaf is in charge and don’t be gone long,” Shelton answered.
Machoke shrugged and motioned for Shuppet and Growlithe to follow him. Shuppet sang her name softly and smiled at Shelton as she passed in an attempt to get the same gesture from Shelton. The ghost Pokemon ended up disappointed though when Shelton declined to give in to her good will. As they shuffled down the hall that led to Dorian’s room, Shelton quickly excused herself upstairs. As she neared the door to Ronnie’s room she heard Kecleon whimper softly from inside. Her bottom lip started twitching again as she heard the sound. Shelton forced it down again and kept walking; the sound of Kecleon’s crying growing fainter with each step.
She slid into her room and closed the door. Her old room was decorated like a martial arts extravaganza. Posters of Machamp, Throh, and Sawk occupied every inch of wall space. The belts she had achieved were hung from the ceiling in a way that made the ceiling look like a rainbow of discipline. Ronnie had left the room untouched since she and Dorian had moved out, though it was evident that he had kept up with the dusting. He had been just as fastidious as her, and every inch of her oak dresser and desk were polished brightly. Such a good man, such a good father. She could still hear his voice; still smell his scent of raw leather and sweet tobacco. He had been so proud of her when she started her classes, and he religiously attended every match. He had never disappointed her, not once in her life.
Her phone beeped from her pocket.
Shelton opened it and took in a breath; it was time. She settled down to the floor and crossed her legs, extracting a small pink sphere from the inside of her jacket. She rolled it around in her palm in an effort to shelve her thoughts and focus on the situation at hand. It was odd for her, wanting to do something so badly while at the same time scared out of her mind to follow through with it. It had been three days since Golduck had been absorbed into the hospital provided heal ball. He could be released now, and would presumably be conscious and coherent enough to function. Shelton pointed the ball to a space about three feet in front of her and pressed the release button.
Pink splashes of light bathed the room instead of the usual white as Golduck materialized in front of her. His shape formed with his legs crossed and his arms at his sides. As the last cascade of light faded away, Shelton’s eyes were able to focus again and she looked into the face of the first Pokemon she ever caught. He looked so much healthier than he did a few days prior. His feathers were slick and all in place, his plumage radiating a brilliant azure sheen. The stump of what remained of his left arm was heavily scabbed over but other than that he looked the same. As his eyes found her they immediately began to tear. He slowly scooted forward and wrapped his arms around her, a soft quack echoing in her ear as tears wet her shoulder. His chest rose and fell evenly as he breathed, relieving Shelton greatly.
“Duduck?” Golduck asked as he pulled back to look at her face.
“Yeah I’m okay,” Shelton said meekly. “Ar-Are you okay?”
“Golduck duck,” he replied with a small grin.
This time when her lip started quivering she made no attempt to stop it. She leaned forward and rested her head against Golduck’s chest. As she listened to his heart beat, Golduck gently started stroking her hair, his claws scratching lightly against her scalp. The two of them stayed in that position for almost an hour, oblivious to the time passing around them.
*********
Dorian knew he shouldn’t be driving. The edges of his vision blurred grey and green as he rocketed down the road towards the south side of Pewter. The blur started inching his way toward the center of his eye until he decreased his speed, thus allowing him to focus more on what he was doing. He had been drinking since about nine this morning and he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep the bike from swaying from side to side as he rode. The sun was setting to his left, setting the sky ablaze with a swirl of orange and red. Pewter City was rolling up its sidewalks; businesses were closing and people were settling down for dinner all around him. Dorian slowed down as he approached his destination, his eyes catching a bright silver flash to his right.
A Ledian and an Ivysaur were battling in front of the bar. Each had a trainer on either side shouting commands, one more strained than the other. The Ledian drifted and turned through the air like Golduck moved through the water. Every dip and dive was deliberate and precise; every silver wind attack hit the Ivysaur precisely where it was aiming. Usually Dorian would have thought twice before ordering an attack like that within city limits, but the Ledian’s trainer seemed to have complete confidence in his Pokemon.
“Ledian, mach punch!” the trainer shouted.
“Ivysaur, vine whip!” the other yelled back.
As Dorian watched, the Ledian corkscrewed its body up higher into the air and flipped over. At the same time, the Ivysaur dug its claws deep into the grass to anchor itself to the ground. The Ledian came down to meet the grass Pokemon shockingly fast with wings and right fist glowing a silvery white. Thick green vines erupted from the Ivysaur’s back and raced towards the Ledian as it dove. The insect Pokemon twisted sideways in the air to avoid the first three, but got caught by the last two and was quickly pulled to the ground.
“Led!” the Ledian shouted as it bounced lightly off the ground.
What happened next took Dorian by surprise and made him dismount. Just as the Ivysaur raised the Ledian up to bounce it against the ground again, the insect Pokemon spun rapidly forward, pulling the Ivysaur’s vines taught and yanking the Pokemon up into the air. The Ivysaur flailed its arms wildly as it started falling back towards the ground, just as the Ledian pulled the vines tighter and swung them down, which caused the Ivysaur to race downwards with increased velocity. The plant Pokemon howled as it smacked into the ground with a clap and bounced back up. With a growl the Ledian dropped the vines and raced forward. It swung a glowing right fist and caught the Ivysaur with a vicious uppercut to the jaw. The grass Pokemon emitted no grunt or shouts of pain, but instead flew backwards and landed in a heap by its trainer’s feet.
As Dorian started walking towards the bar he saw the trainer with the Ivysaur return his Pokemon and approach the victor. The man who won the battle with his Ledian started conversing with the other trainer, making no effort to hide his joy. He was of average height and slight muscular build, with close-cropped dark blond hair and dirty boots. As he gave his Ledian a jumping high-five, the snaps of his plaid shirt caught the sunlight and reflected pearly white. Dorian stopped as his hand closed around the handle of the door, a part of him wanting to go over and congratulate the victor while another part wanting to keep the voice in his head from yelling at him by drowning it out with more alcohol. As he stood in place trying to decide what to do, it came again.
“
Gone, gone, gone, GONE!”
Dorian grinded his teeth together and opened the door.
Much to his dismay the bar was brightly lit with plenty of people inside. Cigarette smoke drifted across the room in soft white waves above the heads of the assembled patrons, creating a fog that almost obscured the band playing in the corner. He crossed the floor and sat down on the squeaky barstool at the end of the walnut bar, hands scratching at the vinyl beneath him. The bartender acknowledged him and held up a finger.
“
He is gone, you do know that, don’t you?” a voice said in his head. “
The bad thing is that it’s completely your fault. You know that too, don’t you?”
“What are you having?” the bartender asked him.
“Whiskey, I don’t care what kind,” Dorian replied.
The bartender shuffled away to pour his drink. Dorian kept his head low and his eyes to the floor and tried the best to make himself as small as he felt. The man returned a moment later with his drink and he downed the glass quickly in an effort to make the noise inside him suffocate. The bartender raised his eyebrows and leaned down close.
“One of those nights, huh?”
“Yeah well, just keep them coming,” Dorian replied.
“Start a tab?”
“Yeah.”
The bartender walked away again to pour him another drink and he was left to himself. He knew the man’s name. Ethan Bernard. It struck a sour chord within him. The man had lived in Saffron City, the man had lived that close. The police had broken into the man’s apartment and came back with nothing but a name. The man that ended his uncle’s life had a name, and he had nothing. Ronnie was gone. He and Shelton had buried him today. The service had been nice; not grandiose or luxurious, it had been just Ronnie’s style. Dorian couldn’t bring himself to exchange pleasantries with the people afterward though, he just couldn’t do it. People giving their condolences made it real, and though he knew it was real, it just made it harder.
“Can I get a beer over here?” a voice called to his right.
Dorian turned and saw the trainer from outside seated two stools down from him. It was the man who had won the battle. He saw the bartender nod in the man’s direction and watched as he and his Ledian started excitedly talking to each other. Dorian stared without meaning to; he was so consumed with his thoughts that he didn’t notice how socially awkward he was being by boring holes into the man’s head. The man’s Ledian stopped speaking and pointed over to Dorian, so he quickly looked away and downed the last of his drink.
“How you doing, buddy?” the man asked.
Dorian didn’t respond and motioned to the bartender.
“I said, how you doing buddy?” the man asked again.
“Fine,” Dorian replied, only responding out of courtesy.
“You were outside a minute ago, right? Ledian here gave that Ivysaur a whooping, huh?”
Dorian didn’t respond again, hoping that his lack of response would deter the man from engaging him in conversation. His intent was foiled however when the man moved over another seat and turned towards him. Dorian turned and looked the man up and down. Pale, with a few scratches up the side of his neck; but the bigger focus was on the man’s pants. His jeans were so tight fitting that they acted almost as a second skin, and moved with the man’s muscles as he tapped his feet. The man’s Ledian hopped over from its seat and crawled across his trainer’s back, blue eyes deep and intense.
“Garrett Cayden,” the man said as he extended a hand.
“Dorian Dvakna,” Dorian responded. He shook Garrett’s hand lightly and turned his attention back to his drink.
“Dvakna? For some reason that’s familiar.”
“Well, I know I haven’t met you so I don’t see why that is.”
Dorian downed another drink and motioned for the bartender once again. The world around him was starting to move left and right. He closed his eyes and tried to steady himself but it didn’t work. When he opened them again the bar kept spinning. It was an interesting situation to him. He knew the more he kept drinking the worse his vision would get, but at the same time if he stopped drinking, reality would set back in. He could almost feel the voice gathering strength inside him. He tried to hold it down as he took another swallow, but it broke through nonetheless.
“
It’s your fault. He died because you found that shard. It’s absolutely your fault.”
“You drowning your sorrows, or are you just trying to get shithoused?” Garrett said as Dorian downed the rest of his glass.
“I’m not trying to be rude, but how about you just leave me the hell alone.” Dorian replied.
“What’s your problem?”
Dorian declined to respond to the man’s question and started running Ethan Bernard’s face through his head again, focusing on every wrinkle beside his eyes and every freckle on his nose. He looked up as the bartender approached again, and gave him an appreciative nod as he filled his glass. In his peripheral vision he saw the speckled form of Garrett’s Ledian climb down from his owner’s shoulder and sit down next to him. He turned to look the Pokemon in the face and stared into his reflective inky eyes. He saw his own face and looked down to the Pokemon’s face as it started to talk to him.
“Ledi, led, Ledian,” the Pokemon said quietly.
“What did it say?” Dorian asked.
“Well, ‘it’ is actually a he, and he says he feels like you’re down and down.”
“He’s not far off,” Dorian said, giving the Ledian a nod.
“Well, if it gets you out of your mood, I found out that my apartment back in Johto got broken into,” Garrett offered.
Feeling the need to shut the man up permanently, Dorian said, “My Uncle was murdered three days ago.”
An awkward silence followed that statement. The air itself felt thick after Dorian said that, and even though they were only three feet away from each other, Dorian felt like the distance between them stretched on for miles. Garrett finished his beer and ordered another. Dorian downed the last of his whiskey and held up a finger for another.
“That’s on me,” Garrett said as the bartender filled his glass again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Much appreciated,” Dorian sighed.
He knew the voice was coming again, but he didn’t know how to combat it.
“
Why did you bring it here?” the voice in his head asked. “
Did you see what that Scyther did to him? It should have been you! Why did you do that? He’s rotting now, you know. His skin is starting to decompose and he’s six feet under the ground.”
Dorian almost retched as the words echoed through his head. It wasn’t his fault, but at the same time it was. He had done this. The sequence of events had unfolded at just the right time to cause Ronnie’s death, and Dorian had been the architect. It was his fault, there was no one else to blame. He had brought that fu
ck
ing shard here and his Uncle was dead. He was dead like his father and he wasn’t coming back.
“That was your Uncle, right?” Garrett asked. “We saw that on the news.”
“Yeah, that was him.” Dorian groaned.
“Well that sucks buddy, I’ll take care of your tab tonight.”
“That’s a nice gesture, but I can handle it.”
The Ledian patted him on the back with two of his arms and smiled at him. Dorian glared at him. This wasn’t a time for smiling and good spirits. His Uncle was dead. Why didn’t they understand that? He had said it clearly. It should be obvious from his tone that he didn’t want to talk to them at all. Yet they insisted on trying to cheer him up. This had been happening since his Uncle died, and it annoyed Dorian to no end. He knew that he was wallowing in self-pity, but why did people feel the need to talk him out of it? Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?
“
Dead, dead, DEAD!” the voice inside his head said.
“Just shut up,” Dorian growled.
“What’s that?” Garrett asked.
“Nothing,” Dorian replied.
“Well, I’m sure he was a good guy,” Garrett said, motioning for another beer.
“The best,” Dorian agreed, echoing the man’s sentiment without meaning to.
“Probably a hell of a lot better that my father.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, my father was an interesting man, and prone to a few situations,” Garrett said with a laugh.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing really, buddy. It’s just good that you had a good Uncle is all.”
“I feel like you’re trying to imply something,” Dorian said, Garrett’s Ledian perking up at his menacing tone.
“Look, all I mean to say is that you should count yourself lucky that you actually had someone who probably gave a s
hit about you.”
“Well I guess you’re right.”
“Damn right I am,” Garrett said. He lifted his beer and took a deep drink. “To your Uncle.”
Dorian nodded and finished his glass. “Was your father not the best guy?”
“To say the least,” Garrett said with a laugh. He laughed a few seconds longer than he should have at that statement, which piqued Dorian’s interest.
“Care to elaborate?” Dorian asked.
“Not really, but I feel like it’d make you feel better so yeah,” Garrett started. “My father worked as a laborer back in Goldenrod when they were making the Gym out there. Him and my mother got married right after high school because she got pregnant with me. Well, this would be the beginning to a fairytale except for the fact that my mother died giving birth to me.”
Dorian flinched when Garrett said the word, ‘died’.
“Anyway, he made no effort to hide his displeasure at the fact that I was the result of his loss, and he made a habit of showing me as soon as I learned to walk.”
“What do you mean?” Dorian asked.
Garrett leaned forward and pulled his t-shirt to the side, showing a deep scar colored purple. “Apparently I wasn’t supposed to ask for something to drink, when I was four.”
“
Dead and gone,” the voice said in his head.
Garrett turned around and lifted his shirt to show him a horizontal scar across his back. “That was when I asked his permission to go to a friend’s house when I was twelve.”
“
It’s your fault.” the voice commented.
“I put an end to the s
hit when I turned fourteen and qualified to be a trainer. Got a few Pokeballs from the local professor in Goldenrod and here I am. He left quite an impression on me as it turned out.”
“What do you mean?” Dorian asked, the spins rolling across his vision again.
“I was scared for a long time after him. He’d come home from the jobsite and I’d hide under my bed. He’s always find me though, and to be honest I was even scared of Ledian when I caught him.”
“Ledi,” Ledian agreed.
“He was only a Ledyba when I caught him, but he still flipped me out,” Garrett said with a loud laugh. “Luckily enough the bastard got diagnosed with cancer two years ago.”
“Luckily enough?”
“Oh yeah, he can go fu
ck himself, wherever he is. The best day of my life was when I started challenging Gym’s with Ledian, and we haven’t lost yet.”
“Well good for you,” Dorian said. “You learned to deal with it. My experience was somewhat different but I can understand what you mean.”
“I don’t think you can, actually, beca-“ Garrett started, only to be cut off by Ledian moving over and crawling across his head. “Dammit man, quit screwing around on my face.” He pushed the Ledian off of him and started back up again. “Anyway, like I said he was diagnosed with cancer two years ago and the hospital called me when he slipped into what they thought would be his last day. He was stark white when I got there. Veins were big under his skin and he looked like a drug addict. He looked at me when I got there and I looked back. I saw the sadness in his eyes and what I thought was his best attempt at remorse.”
“So let me guess, you forgave him and put the past behind you?”
“Not really,” Garrett laughed. “I ripped out his IV and broke his jaw.”
Dorian was stunned. Garrett’s story had started as a kind of ‘road to understanding and forgiveness’ type story, but had suddenly detoured into a new direction.
“That’s what I thought,” Garrett grinned. “Be lucky you had a good father, because mine was nothing to brag about.”
“Why did you do it? I mean, I can understand you wanting to do to him after what he did to you, but he was dying.”
“Because I struggled with what he did for a long time,” Garrett explained. “He put a fear in me that affected every aspect of my life, even when I started my journey. Looking at him in that bed reminded me of myself. He was defenseless and weak, just like I was every time he decided to use me as a punching bag.”
Dorian turned back into his glass just as the voice in his head took on a softer tone. “He loved you, you know? It was still your fault, but you know he loved you…Right?”
“He took something from me,” Garrett continued. “I wasn’t the same after I left, and I couldn’t figure out why. He took away who I was, and as much as I wanted to forgive him, I couldn’t. He was a poor excuse for a man and he died like the bastard he was. As soon as they hauled me off of him I got myself back.”
Dorian couldn’t find anything to say. He felt like he should, but nothing came to mind.
“I’m not trying to put on a pity party buddy, but it sounds like he was a good man, so think about that instead of focusing on what you lost. It could have been a lot worse.”
“
He loved you so much,” the voice in his head said. “
He really did.”
“You’re right I guess,” Dorian said, trying to end the conversation. He felt tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes, warning him of the impeding flood. He finished his drink and pushed off from the bar. He stumbled backwards in his inebriation and almost fell but a strong hand from Ledian stopped him from collapsing. He motioned at the bartender with his right hand while making a scribbling motion with his left. He had to get out of here.
“Hey buddy, I got that,” Garrett offered. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Feel better man.”
Dorian nodded and spun around towards the door, his vision swinging from left to right viciously as he walked. A few patrons looked at him oddly as he stumbled out the door, the tears now flowing freely from his face. He burst out the door and stumbled towards his bike. Night had fallen and the stars were shining overhead which distracted him and made him fall face-first into the dirt. He pulled himself up and sat with the bike to his left, struggling to try and get rid of the voice in his head that had started back up again.
“
What would he think of you now? It’s obvious that he would be disappointed, but do you think he’d be ashamed too? He was such a good man, and you dishonor him with your behavior. You’re a real piece of shit Dorian, you know that, don’t you?”
“Just shut the fu
ck up already!” Dorian sobbed.
He pushed himself up and surprised himself by deciding to walk home instead of trying to ride. He lifted his phone and saw that he missed six calls from Shelton. Well, it could have been Shelton. He didn’t know for sure because of the way the screen blinded him when he looked directly at it. Dorian shoved the phone back in his pocket and started walking back home, trying to keep from tipping over once again. There was a sour taste in his mouth that became more pungent every time he took a breath. He swallowed saliva and gulps of air at a rapid pace but his mind refused to adhere to his plea to make sense of his surroundings. He drifted forward erratically, falling four more times until his former home came into view. Shelton had left the light on for him.
Dorian collapsed onto the front porch and suddenly felt pain as a long sliver of wood drove itself into the palm of his right hand.
“Fu
ck!” he screamed in frustration. He pulled the piece of wood out and stuck the wounded portion of his hand into his mouth. This was all that man’s fault. Ethan. The murderer. He had taken Ronnie from him. Worse than that, he had taken Ronnie from Shelton too. The man’s face flashed through his mind then. He had looked confident, he had looked happy. That bastard piece of s
hit. All for a piece of black glass. That man had murdered his Uncle and taken the shard off his desk. Dorian started dry heaving as he envisioned the man laughing at his plight. He was laughing at Dorian as he emptied the contents of his stomach to the ground below. The man was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face, just like Dorian’s.
“
He is a dog and he deserves worse than what the police want to give him,” the voice in his head suggested.
“Agreed,” Dorian said, following up the affirmation with another splash of vomit against the ground.
That last heave helped somewhat. He found himself now able to stop the world from spinning so badly. He still felt like his eyeballs were in a dryer, but now the speed had slowed down slightly enough for him to be able to make sense of his surroundings again. He took a long breath and stood up. The door was thankfully unlocked and he slid inside and immediately sat down on the couch. His legs were jelly and his heart was aching. His eyes couldn’t make sense of the features of the darkened room save for one item resting against the wall of the sofa. Dorian grabbed his Uncle’s guitar and placed it on his lap. He ran a hand along the smooth surface, suddenly getting a whiff of sweet tobacco. It was his Uncle’s smell.
He pulled the guitar upright and let his fingers slide along the strings. They were rough but slick across his fingers, and the touch memory of what it was brought a warm feeling into his fingers. Dorian started strumming the strings then, despite his drunken clumsiness, and began playing a tune that Ronnie had taught him almost twelve years ago. The melody soothed him more than the alcohol he soon learned, and his vision started to clear the more he played. He kept playing as Golduck walked into the room with his hand attached to Shelton’s. They both gave him the same look of bewilderment but he kept playing undeterred. Dorian smiled broadly at Golduck as he sat down on the loveseat, and grinned even wider at Shelton as she sat down next to Dorian.
“Are you ok-“ Shelton started, cut off when she realized that Dorian had no intention of stopping the soft melody. She realized what song it was and buried her head against his left shoulder. Dorian moved his head to nuzzle against hers when she started to cry and rubbed it softly. Shelton snaked one hand down and gripped his knee tightly.
Dorian kept playing until they both fell asleep.
********
Sunlight streamed through the open blinds and roused Dorian from his slumber. A heavenly golden glow radiated from the windows and painted the brown furniture a pleasant shade of amber. Shelton was cuddled up next to him still asleep, and Golduck was watching them both with heavy eyes. Dorian’s fingers were sore from the music he had played and he gently slid the guitar down to the ground and wrapped his newly freed arms around Shelton’s neck. The motion woke her from sleep and she opened her eyes. They looked at each other without blinking for a moment, and she hugged him tighter and buried her head deeper into his shoulder.
“Hi,” Shelton managed.
“Hey,” Dorian replied.
“Duduck,” Golduck chimed in.
Both said good morning to him and resumed their stare. Words passed between them without the need for vocalizing, and they both poured what emotion they had left into one another. Tears began to form in Dorian’s eyes and Shelton reached up and wiped them away before they had the chance to run down his face. He loved her for that.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dorian assured her. “I’m sorry for the way I acted, I just, I don’t know, I couldn’t.”
“I know.”
“I know you do.”
“He’s gone.”
“He is,” Dorian agreed.
“What do we do now?” Shelton asked.
“
He took something from me.” Garrett’s voice suddenly sang. “
I took out his IV and I broke his jaw.”
Ethan Bernard’s face flashed through his mind again as Garrett’s words rang loud. That man had murdered his Uncle over a piece of stone. That man was Garrett’s father, that man was the scorned Graveler, that man had murdered their father. The police couldn’t find him, and Dorian knew they wouldn’t. How he could know such a thing was beyond him, but he knew the man would not be found. He knew that the man was laughing at them wherever he was. That man, that Ethan was a murderer and a monster, and he was going to get away.
“I know what were going to do,” Dorian explained.
“What?”
“
He took something from me,” Garrett said in his mind.
“We’re going to kill him.”
“Kill who?”
“Ethan Bernard, we’re going to gut the bastard.”
“Believe me Dorian, I would if I had an opportunity, but we can’t kill him.”
“Why’s that?” Dorian asked.
“The police broke into his apartment and found nothing but his name. His face has been on every news outlet from here to Hoenn, and they haven’t found a trace of him.”
“Well, we do have one advantage over the police.”
“Oh really? And what’s that?”
Garrett’s words and his experience of mentally traveling to Orre and Castelia inched across his mind simultaneously.
“We know exactly where he’s going.”
********************************************************************************************************************************************
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4zCOHFrLVY
The link listed above is to a song on Youtube. Every so often when I post a chapter that is especially precious to me or the story, I'll post a song that describes it to me. I encourage anyone who's following the story to listen to the song, because I feel it describes what this chapter means to me. Not only that, but to me this is the song Dorian was playing when he picked up Ronnie's guitar
I guess it does give us a sense of guilt from Alakazam that he wasn't there to stop Ethan, but that could have been accomplished more easily later.
