The decision was discussed with the Elite Four and with Wallace, under careful scrutiny from Juan, who'd been asked to return from his retirement.

Steven had a compelling argument: he explained, as briefly as possible, that he was hoping to start an independent investigation, and that doing such would cut in on work-time as a champion. And when it came to picking between the welfare of the citizens of the country he was ever so proud of and between a title, well, the choice was terribly easy, wasn't it? He wanted to give the Elite Four a choice before he took active interest in the budding organizations threatening to tip the balance. Steven didn't anyone to misinterpret – he loved his job, and he loved being a part of the "family" they were. But if anyone was against him pursuing his personal interest, well, he didn't really care.

Glacia was the only one who came close to arguing back. She saw the reasoning and she accepted it, but her professionalism spoke higher. Of course, she amended, after she'd voiced her opinion, Steven wasn't obligated to remain the champion if he didn't want to. And she was in agreement with Wallace being the replacement; after all, he was a skilled trainer, and he he'd been a gym leader for quite some time now, which would only work in their favor if the media decided to complain about it.

After the introductory monologue, after Glacia's rebuttal, after the minor things – came the universal agreement. Phoebe, ever the sweetheart, sided with Steven immediately, and Sidney eventually joined in (although opting to inform everyone that he didn't particularly care who was champion as long as he could do his job without any distractions), leaving Glacia and Drake to consider things. Juan piped in, then, telling them that they should be more concerned with Hoenn than with what the media could concoct regarding the situation. Of course, that was his opinion, and he wasn't trying to manipulate anyone into picking anything. It was a heavy decision to be taken (even if Steven had warned them that their opinion would not be taken in consideration in case they were against him quitting), and … well, he only wanted to pitch in.

Wallace, while not a part of the League's board, wasn't as lenient. Of course he would do his best to replace Steven, but that didn't mean he quite agreed with the way he was dealing with the situation. If he didn't care about the board's opinion, why gather to discuss his leave in the first place?

Steven gave him a patient smile.

"The media's going to be on this as soon as we act on it, Wallace." His fingers traced an absent line on the glass surface of the meeting's table. "I'd rather know if I have the board's support or not. It would be quite unbecoming of me if I didn't know what to say to, for example, the Rustboro Times, would it not? I asked for a meeting not because I wanted permission," his eyes met Wallace's, a challenge in them, "but because I wanted opinions."

It was after that Drake nodded his assent, leaving Glacia to sigh and rub her temples.

"You never were the kind to be influenced," she said breezily, but she was smiling.

.

.

The meeting with the gym leaders was completely different from the one with the Elite Four—whereas in the elites were quick in their decision, not really bothering with details – after all, Steven was perfectly capable of taking care of himself – the gym leaders showed a myriad of reactions. Tate and Liza had been dismissed on the count of their young age, something Steven was thankful for, since he'd have a hard time approaching the subject of his safety in the same room as two twelve-year-olds.

Roxanne, Winona and Norman were strictly against it. In fact, Norman was the first to vocalize everything he thought was wrong with Steven's plan: the insolence towards the League and the gym leaders, the lack of planning surrounding his objective, and the vulnerable position he was going to put himself in – because despite his excellent battling skill, he was still a celebrity and he was still easily recognizable. What if the enemy were onto him? The fact was: Magma and Aqua had done nothing wrong yet, but that was something different. Roxanne agreed. What irked her more was how careless he was of his colleagues' reactions. Surely after six years of working alongside the same people, she would expect more respect than what he was giving them at the moment. She eyed him then; Steven allowed her the satisfaction of a sigh.

"I am siding with Norman and Roxanne," Winona said. "I trust your ability to plan on the run; that is not what worries me. I've known you for far more time than Norman has, Steven, I know how good you are with your head." She frowned, then, her light eyes on his. "What I find disturbing is how vulnerable you're willing to put yourself over two environmental organizations that have not committed any atrocities whatsoever."

Steven gave her a look. "They stole Devon papers."

Roxanne cut in. "The member admitted to working on his own. The organization was cleared of all charges."

Brawly, at her side, made a skeptic noise.

"Of course he was working on his own."

She ignored him.

"All the police have are witnesses' testimony. They searched through their offices and their warehouses, and found nothing."

"Why would someone want Devon blueprints? It's not like just anyone would be able to figure it out," Brawly said, crossing his arms and giving Roxanne a look.

"They're innocent until proven wrong," Norman said, but he didn't look too happy. "The organization is on trial at the moment. But we all know that, unless we find the blueprints' copies on their offices, no one's going to get jailed."

On the other side of him, Wattson seemed to contemplate his hands. When Norman finished, he began. "As the oldest leader here, I believe it's my duty to tell you youngsters that the champion-turned-martyr is not a new thing. It's silly, yes," he gave a small laugh, "but the champion of a region usually ends up being the one who fixes things, whether other people want it or not." Roxanne rolled her eyes. "That being said, I am a little surprised by your decision. What came over you to make you move this fast? You had a meeting with the board just yesterday morning, right?"

Steven nodded. "I think the faster we move, the better. And since I am the person who is most easily disposable," he didn't miss Flannery's and Winona's eyes fluttering when he struck the word, "I've taken it upon myself to investigate these organizations. As I am sure you all know, as the heir of Devon Corporation I am entitled to a large quantity of fame and that is not why I have been murdered in cold blood, has it?"

"Excuse me!" Winona exclaimed, aghast. "That is not comparable! As the heir of Devon Corp., you do not run around investigating shady organizations – and if I know you well, which I do, then I know you will find a way to infiltrate said shady organizations, and watching you take that risk is not pleasant, Steven!"

There was a silence. Steven couldn't help the shit-eating grin he had reserved for these occasions from creeping onto his face, and was about to retort that, well, he was sorry, but what he did with his free time was his own choice, and this was not a discussion on whether he should or shouldn't start investigating Aqua and Magma – when Flannery's nervous voice interrupted the tense mood.

"If I may ask, what's your plan? From the way you're talking, it seems you're expecting to be killed on this," air quotes, "investigation." Her eyes were wide as she locked them onto his. He couldn't look away. "Why not side with the police instead of taking it up by yourself? If time is not of the essence, do you think maybe … you could take the safer route?" She exhaled, then, a little desolate. "You're the Devon heir, I'm sure you could press them into hurrying things up."

He smiled at her. "I don't expect being killed. There are risks I am willing to take, but I doubt anything as serious as that could happen. Besides, there are very few people who could kill me. I have faith in my skills as a trainer."

"There are other ways to kill a person," Norman said curtly. "You don't need a pokémon to take someone's life. It would do you good to remember that, Steven."

Brawly raised his hand, "Uh, yeah, how did we get to 'murder' from 'investigating nature buddies'?" He scratched at his neck absently when the table turned to look at him. "I think we're overreacting. If Aqua and Magma turn out to be pulling a Rocket on us, then I'd guess that'd be pretty manageable. We have the cops to help us disband them. If they're just fanatics concerned with volcanoes or coral reefs, then I say let them be. They can't do anything just by stealing Devon papers."

"The Rocket situation was anything but manageable," Roxanne retorted, eyes wide. "I don't know if you remember – it's been ten years since then, if I'm not mistaken, but even after Team Rocket was disbanded in Kanto, they gathered in Johto once again. And," she sniffed, bitter, "the police didn't do much then, did they? Johto was saved by an eleven-year-old."

"I remember! Wasn't that embarrassing for the PD," Wattson piped in, chortling with laughter. "I mean, saved by a kid twice? At least it wasn't the same one! That'd be painful!"

"Um, I think we're drawing away from the issue here."

"Flannery's right," Wallace said. Steven did not miss the way Winona's eyes narrowed. "I don't think things need to be hurried that much. I also agree with Brawly – I think we're making this out to be a sharpedo when it is only a magikarp. Steven is more than capable to look after himself and it's not going to be our fussing around that is going to convince him to abandon his quest."

"You're the water specialist, aren't you?" Winona asked, a lot of bite in her voice. "Don't tell me you've forgotten what comes after a magikarp. This might look like a silly thing when you put it into those words, but the truth is Magma and Aqua have been steadily increasing their funds and they have chosen not to publicize them. We're dealing with a large group of people who probably hate each other and have a lot of power on their hands. And what they want Devon blueprints for, I can only imagine. They're getting ready for something."

Steven leaned back on his chair. The problem with leader meetings was that they became very personal, very fast. None of them argued for the hell of it, though (and thank god for that, otherwise he'd be here forever), but some people were as stubborn as a mule…

Flannery, between Wattson and Norman, was chewing on her thumb nervously, watching Winona and Wallace play verbal tennis with each other. It belatedly struck Steven that it was probably the first serious discussion they'd had since she joined the gym leader ranks, and he felt a little guilty for putting her on the spot without any previous warning.

"Excuse me," he said, raising a hand. Winona and Wallace paused, turned to look. "I am going to propose a break. This discussion is getting a little heated," he pointedly looked at the dueling duo, and felt a small amount of satisfaction when he noticed the slight flush on both their cheeks, "and I am getting a little impatient. If no one opposes, we'll continue this in half an hour."

Roxanne opened her mouth to argue, but Brawly leaned to the side and whispered something in her ear, and she closed it again.

"Great." He offered the rest of the gym leaders a smile, and pulled out his pokénav, warning his father that he would most likely be late for their dinner.

Wallace and Winona continued their discussion in hushed tones, while Roxanne, Brawly and Wattson headed to the coffee machine, leaving Norman and Flannery at the table. Norman clearly didn't want to spend any unnecessary time inside the trainer's school (an improvised place for the meeting), and so excused himself and walked out of the room, also pulling out his pokénav.

"Is it gonna be that dangerous? The mission, I mean."

Steven looked up from the screen of his pokénav, almost startled to hear Flannery's voice. She usually kept to herself during the meetings, unless it was something regarding her town or the terrible droughts that sometimes happened during the summer, so it was strange (though not unwelcome) to hear her opinionate.

"I don't really think so. Winona is simply a little too concerned about my well-being." He pocketed his pokénav, leaving his message unfinished. "It's not as if I'm the only person on the team who's willing to put himself in danger. I'm just the only one who won't be slowed down just because my colleagues are concerned about me."

"That's not the way it should be," she said, her nervous hands fidgeting in her lap, and then added, "Um, well, in my opinion, of course."

He couldn't help but smile. "Then how should it be?"

She looked surprised to hear him interested. "Well, first of all, why go alone? I'm guessing that if you and the police worked together, you'd accomplish more than if you did everything by yourself. I'm not saying you're not capable of taking Aqua and Magma apart by yourself, but … I don't know. It seems so extraordinary." She brushed her hair away from her downward eyes. "It's something I wouldn't dream of doing. Maybe that's why I'm so concerned."

"So you're concerned?"

"I—of course I am! We all are…" She reddened, but nodded surely, her eyes on his, and Steven had the slightest urge to abandon his mission, right there, right then, but then he found Roxanne's downward grin, and the sentiment was lost.

.

.

The meeting ended in a bit of a sour note, but he managed to get his point across. He'd have to keep them all updated – as if he weren't expecting that – and Winona made him promise to mark his checkpoints with Wallace, just so they'd know where he was. Steven didn't really like being so controlled, but he figured this was the best he could get. It frustrated him, yes, but he was between a rock and a hard place; not informing his colleagues and doing this on his own would probably spur Winona into sending a search party for him, or something equally silly, and that would defeat the purpose of the whole thing.

Wallace and Norman had stayed behind, inconspicuously meaning to give Steven a bit of advice – Wallace had just been grilled by Winona, and while it hadn't been pleasant, it gave him a clear view into her head, and jeez, was she pissed off about his whole mission-quest-thing. Wallace didn't really want to take a side, because he liked to think he was a pretty good friend of Steven's, but he kind of owed Winona anyway, and… Well, he was sorry, but he was going to abstain from taking a side, if that was okay with him.

Norman, on the other hand, was perfectly fine with taking sides. He didn't quite forgive Steven for putting them all on the spot like that, but he could see where Steven's worry was coming from. Petalburg's police department had once gotten complaints about something going on in the woods, and Norman hadn't been able to take any action … His hands had been tied, and he didn't want to see Steven's hands get tied too – that was his reasoning. Sure, everything had worked out thanks to Brendan (he smiled a little, here), but what if it hadn't? He'd much rather have Steven step out of his position temporarily while things were dealt with.

After the discussion died down, they bid their goodbyes. Steven pulled his pokénav out of his pocket and called his father, apologizing for the lateness; something had come up with the gym leaders' meeting and – no, what did he mean he wasn't going to – but – well, no, he understood, of course he did. Why not call him when he was done? Okay, okay, they'd schedule something in the future, then. Goodbye—yes—he'd call later.

Perfect. Another dinner missed because of work. It wasn't an unusual occurrence; with what his father being a president and himself occupying a major position in the battling world, they hardly saw each other nowadays. And usually, that was alright with Steven. There weren't many people he had to answer to, but he owed his father the benefit of answering if he called. And if he didn't, well, Steven didn't mind. They both had busy lives and—

"I won't let you walk home. Are you crazy? It's nighttime already and you didn't even bring your full team!"

He turned around, a little confused to hear Roxanne's voice. He thought she'd been one of the first to leave. Beside her was Flannery, looking a little afflicted.

"I'll be fine – Roxanne, I know the Rusturf tunnel like the back of my hand," she replied patiently, closing the zipper on her jacket and pulling out her hair from under the collar. "It's not like it's hard—it's a straight line! How do you think I got here?" she asked, then, smiling cheekily.

The chat cut off when the two women noticed him standing by the door of Rustboro's school.

"Still here?" Roxanne asked conversationally. "Going to have dinner with your father? Send him my regards, will you? The latest version of the pokénav OS suits me wonderfully."

"Sorry, I'll have to tell him some other day. He has something scheduled for tonight." He gave her an apologetic smile. "I believe I'll be spending my night in Mauville – Wattson's asked me to scan the southern road, make sure New Mauville is still locked down."

"Perfect!" she said, eyes glinting, and Steven had to stop and wonder if the introduction to the greeting was nothing more than Roxanne testing him to know his plans, "Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind flying Flannery home. It's not a long way from Mauville, after all."

Flannery looked surprised. "I – I don't need a lift! I've just told you—"

"I'm fine with it," he said, bringing his hands up in an appeasing gesture, "It's a long walk from Rustboro to Lavaridge, after all. Did you make it here on foot when you came?"

"Well, no, Winona gave me a ride, but—"

"She stormed off after the meeting," Roxanne explained.

"Then it's settled," Steven said, and it was.

.

.

He came to realize, sometime after, that Roxanne's request didn't end at a lift – he'd left Flannery in Lavaridge after a particularly awkward fly there (she had trouble figuring out where to put her hands; she'd settled for grabbing at the back of his skarmory), and when he returned to Mauville, Wattson delivered him both the keys to New Mauville and another question: was going on alone absolutely necessary? Steven said yes, he thought it was best to go on alone, and he also thought he'd left that perfectly clear when he presented his intentions to the gym leaders.

Well, yes, of course, but … Wattson fidgeted for a while and then came forward: Steven was probably going to have some company on the run. They'd talked with the board, and they accepted it immediately, which meant he was undoubtedly going to be pressured into taking another trainer with him.

He pressed his lips together. He didn't particularly like being pressured into things – and Wattson nodded and said he knew that—everyone knew that, but it couldn't be helped. No one wanted to see him go off on his own, especially when they knew just how independent he liked to be! That was just a recipe for disaster.

Well, then, who did they want him to bring? He grit his teeth and crossed his arms. There wasn't anyone else who could be excused from gym duties; after all, Juan was already filling in for Wallace, who in turn was filling in for him. Drake, Glacia and Sidney wouldn't give up on their work just to run around chasing bandits with him, and Phoebe simply wasn't cut out for morality-related agendas.

Oh, but there was; he was forgetting someone, Wattson said, with an uncomfortable smile, and that someone was Flannery's grandfather, Moore. Steven blanched: he had to be joking – Moore was far too old to run around with him. Wattson burst out laughing at that. No, he was misunderstanding. Moore wouldn't be running around with him. Moore would be filling in for Flannery! It was a solution that pleased everyone, really, and … well, with Flannery around, Steven would have to be careful, wouldn't he? Besides, if they worked together, they'd work twice as fast—

Yes. Steven realized what this was all coming down to.

He bid a curt goodbye to Wattson and sailed down to New Mauville, checking if the doors had been tampered with.

It was all kinds of unfair; what the board and the leaders expected him to do was to ease on the mission. Flannery was new to her job, everyone knew that. She was capable, yes, but still blooming, and it would be expected of him to slow down his pace, it would be expected of him to be twice as careful, because it wasn't just his safety on the line.

He cursed under his breath (and missed the blue and red graffiti on the boards by the trees entirely).

.

.

Moore was a few inches shorter than Steven, but he felt taller, even despite the slight slouch (age didn't forgive, Steven thought). The Lavaridge gym was still clear and dry – still closed, it was early morning – and it gave off an aura of sternness, without the mist to fill the room. Steven wondered if the fog machines had been an addition, post-Moore era, but didn't want to ask.

"I understand you are to take my granddaughter in a mission," he said, keeping his tone just the right kind of light, not too much. Steven nodded and watched Moore smile. He'd worked with Moore before, but the man usually kept to himself. He was a good trainer, with strict moral codes and a sense of honor; he also wrote poems, which were sometimes published in the Daily Lavaridge.

Steven didn't like writers. They had a way with words that rivaled his own.

"She will be your responsibility, yes?" Another serious nod. "For how long?"

"I am not yet sure. It would all depend on how quickly we worked," he replied. "How do you feel about that?

"How do I feel?" Moore laughed, smooth and cheerful, like a retired war veteran with fifteen grandkids. Steven didn't know where the comparison had come from, but it was flawless. "My dear boy, it seems to me you are asking me for permission to take Flannery with you on this mission, hm?" He must've made a face, because the older man continued, by means of explanation: "She is the one you need to convince, not me." A sigh, wistful, one of those 'boys-will-be-boys' kind of sigh. "I know she might be a little naïve in the ways of the world, but you'd do well not to think her childish, Steven. She's got a head on her shoulders."

He knew that. Flannery's biggest (and seemingly only) flaw was her low self-esteem. It prevented her from speaking out, acting out, like a disease. He was nothing if not observant, and Flannery was easy on the eyes. Of course, he'd rather dive head-first into Mt. Coronet before assuming his point-of-view to the gentleman before him. He was bold and secure, not sleazy. From the way Moore was looking at him, though, Steven could piece together that his own opinion on the man's granddaughter was already known. Perhaps they'd been for a while now – Moore was a part-time member of the press, and the press didn't forgive. He was the suave champion and she was the beauty of the nation; there was something about the two of them that fueled the sordid tabloids.

He didn't swallow, but he wanted to.

"I'm going to open the gym now," Moore said, easing on the pressure. "It seems there is a queue for battlers, and I wouldn't like to keep them waiting."

Ah, yes. The Brendan fight. He remembered how hard she'd taken it.

"Flannery hasn't been taking challenges for the last few weeks."

"Is that right?" Moore raised his eyebrows, flicking the switches on the wall to the on position. "I wasn't aware."

Steven didn't rise to the bait, just nodded. "I shall take my leave for now, Moore." They shook hands, twice, casually strict. "I'll keep in touch with the elite four and the gym leaders – you included, of course."

"Good luck," Moore said, and Steven pushed through the doors, into the blinding sunlight of the quaint village.

With one Moore down, there was just another Moore to go. He checked his watch, still a little unsure of where to go; Flannery was probably by the pokécenter, so he headed towards it. Steven only hoped she wouldn't be in the hot springs. He didn't want to interrupt anything (especially anything that involved personal, naked barriers), just after discussing Flannery with her grandfather.

Thankfully, she was by the counter, chatting with the nurse. He waved at her as the doors slid open, and the nurse gave her a saucy grin before she vanished into the back rooms. Flannery greeted him with an awkward smile. She smelled of soap and her hair was damp. He didn't know why he'd noticed it in such detail.

They went through the good-morning-mechanics and jumped straight to the finish line: the mission. He could tell she was nervous about it, from the way she fiddled with her hair and with her fingers.

"Have you been coerced into accepting this mission?" he asked, curious, when they sat down. She brought wide eyes to his, and he felt the need to calm her down. "I only meant you look nervous." He let his hand rest inches from her own and she followed it with her eyes. "Did someone ask you to take this mission?"

"Well, of course – the whole gym leaders' board asked me to go with you. As a safety." She glanced at him, her smile thinning. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"I didn't mean—" he said immediately, letting the words float, surprised when she didn't interrupt him in her usual manner, flushed and embarrassed. He composed himself and continued. "I didn't mean to imply anything about your intelligence."

"It's the way you talk, you know," she said, and didn't look away. Was this what Moore had meant when he'd said she had a head on her shoulders? She skipped from blushing maiden to fierce fighter in seconds, an imperceptible shift in balance, cotton and steel. "You're a little condescending." She raised her hands, then, assuaging, a reflection of her shy demeanor flashing by. "I mean – you're kind of allowed to be, since you're a cut above me … I know I'm young, but so are you; this is all about experience. I know the reason I'm going with me. I'm not as experienced as you. Not by a longshot. That makes me a handicap." She sighed, wearing a self-depreciative smile. "I won't ask you to put yourself in my position, because I know you wouldn't be able to."

Steven felt guilty, but just flexed his fingers. "You have a choice in this."

"And my choice is yes," she said cuttingly, reddening when she took notice of her tone. Flannery looked like she was about to apologize, but then she let her eyes fall. "I know you want me to say no. But I'm … I want to grow up as a gym leader."

"And you feel like this is the best way for you to do so?" he asked, searching for her eyes. It was a cheap shot, but it was a shot nonetheless. "By risking your life?"

She reddened. "I won't be risking my life," she said, and let her eyes meet his, "because I trust you enough to burden you with the task of keeping me safe."

Steven felt his cheeks heat terribly, but said nothing; just nodded tightly.

.

.

They started planning their schedule the following day, because Steven had to meet his father and because Flannery had to meet her grandfather. Steven and his father had shared a nice meal, a nice scotch, a nice evening, and a nice discussion.

He'd left to his apartment after that, mind whirring. What Steven wanted to know was – what had Moore discussed with Flannery? Had they discussed battle tactics? Secret mission tips? Or had the older man talked about him? It seemed he had some ideas about Steven. Ideas which weren't quite true, but weren't quite false, either. He wouldn't bother correcting him, either way. His opinions about Flannery would be kept away for now.

.

.

When Steven landed, Flannery greeted him with a chipper smile and a firm handshake, true to the determination she'd shown him the previous afternoon. They entered the pokécenter, sat down; Flannery pulled out a notebook with an embarrassed smile.

"I'd rather write it all down, if it's okay with you."

It was, of course.

"So," she said, "how do we do this?"

"We choose which team we infiltrate first," Steven said, but phrased it like a question. "I… Last night, I had dinner with my father. He's a great strategist." Steven smiled slightly, without realizing he was doing it. Flannery smiled back. "He suggested splitting up." He held his breath for a second, watching her. She didn't react, so he continued. "I thought it could work. Let's hypothesize: you're a fire-type trainer – you can infiltrate Magma easily enough. They're fond of ground and fire-types, after all."

Flannery nodded. "But where would that leave you?"

"I've collected a fair amount of pokémon during my journeys. And even so – the intelligence reports on Aqua say that they use dark-types, as well. It wouldn't be a stretch to sneak in one steel-type. The lower-ranks work in groups, but the high-ranks don't. If I managed to snag a high-ranking position, I'd be free to use a steel-type."

"Well, that works. In theory."

Steven gave her a look, and she shrugged, her eyes on the blank notebook.

"I mean, I doubt Archie's going to keep everyone in a tight leash, but that doesn't mean there won't be rumors," she said. She was drawing something on the corner of the page; Steven didn't think she was doing it consciously. "In a shady organization like that, people are bound to trash-talk each other to get promotions."

He leaned back on his plush chair, smirking. She had a point. Flannery caught his expression when she sent him a glance.

"You weren't the only one to discuss things," she said sheepishly, and then noticed the drawing she'd distractedly created. From what he could see, it looked like a pokéball. She scratched it off quickly, her face red. "My grandfather was quite insistent with his advice, really."

"I know what you mean." And he did. His father could be quite stubborn. "So you're saying we should go to extremes as to avoid recognition."

"Yeah," she said, and sent him a look that asked him if he was daft. Steven felt the tips of his ears heat. "I mean – you're the most famous person in Hoenn." She went back to scratching over the pokéball sketch. "And even if you weren't, it's not like you wouldn't attract any attention—" Flannery's eyes went wide. She averted her eyes to him and then to the pokéball, barely visible underneath the pencil lines. "Er, I mean—"

He leaned into the table again, cupping his cheek with his hand. There was a little something about watching her turn pink that made the corners of his mouth twitch. It had been a while since the last time he'd flirted with someone; Steven made to hinder her further, but then he thought of Moore's eyes on his, the stern way he shook hands.

"Yes," he said, finally, "I took that into consideration. We're both famous. However, it's not as though hiding our identities would be impossible. It'll take some time reaching an important rank – that is, it'll take some time until we find something worth calling the police about. That's what I'm worried about."

"About … if we're too late," she completed. Steven nodded, and they shared a grim silence. Flannery set her palms against the glass table, her eyes glinting. "We have Brendan's help! When I lost—" she let the words fall, and began the sentence anew. Steven didn't even blink. "Anyway—he told me he'd met a few of those guys in the Petalburg woods and in Rustboro. He could help us!"

"He's as famous as we are, at least in the Aqua-Magma circles. He's been battling them since his first badge," he counter-argued. "It would be a waste of time bringing him into the mission."

But she didn't back down. "That's not what I mean. Brendan's a little too young to be brought into this mess." Steven secretly agreed – the boy was on his way to his sixth badge already, but he was just fourteen – however, he chose to remain silent; he didn't want to break the roll Flannery was on. "What I meant was – I gave him my pokénav number. He could contact us with his info, if he came across any mischief. He's battled a number of grunts already – plus he's a great trainer. He could be our eyes outside the organization."

Steven leaned back again and allowed himself to smile.

"That's brilliant."

Flannery smiled back, and pulled a few hair strands behind her ear. "Thanks."

.

.

He flew back to Rustboro when night fell.

"I have a favor to ask," Steven said, after knocking on his father's office door. The older man glanced at him, surprised, and set down his fountain pen.

"Business?"

"Technology."

His father smirked. "Ah, I see things went well with Flannery."

Steven ignored the innuendo. "They did. We leave in two days, if we manage to wrap everything up tomorrow. But I didn't come here to plan."

"Of course," said his father, nodding sagely. "I'm guessing you're looking for the fake ID sets." He got up from his chair, motioning for Steven to follow. Steven didn't roll his eyes, although he wanted to – he knew Devon Corp. like the back of his hand, but his father always acted like he didn't. Some things would never change. "We had a few requests from the secret police back in Sinnoh. You're lucky we saved some prototypes."

"What did they want them for?"

"Confidential purposes." His dad chuckled. "Everyone knows it was because of Team Plasma, though." He pushed through a door after flashing his ID card to the reader on the wall. "Anyway, we have a couple of those stashed away in the discontinued section. They're too expensive for the masses and a little too dangerous for us to sell them to the wrong hands. They're for police use only, at the time."

Steven had read the files; he knew exactly what the sets brought with them. "Do they still bring the handcuffs?"

"You only care about the gadgets," his father remarked, with a sigh. "But yes, they still bring the handcuffs."

.

The following morning, after he'd had breakfast, he flew to Lavaridge once more. Flannery had still been asleep – he'd woken her up when he'd called, asking her where she was.

"I'm sorry," she'd said, anxiously, trying to brush her hair away from her face. He'd been able see her closet in the background. It had been colorful and full, an organized mess. "I didn't think you'd be here so early."

He'd resisted the urge to tell her it was just half an hour until noon. Perhaps because she was wearing an over-sized T-shirt. He hadn't been able to see the rest – he'd have to speak to his father about the small optical range of the pokénav camera, one of these days. He'd wondered if she was wearing any pants, and then he'd wondered why he'd wondered if she was wearing any pants.

Steven had harrumphed to clear the air, then. Flannery hadn't noticed.

"I'll wait by the pokécenter," he'd said, and she'd cut him off quickly.

"Come over, and I'll fix us breakfast." She'd looked apologetic, and he had still been staring at her T-shirt, so he'd ended up saying yes.

.

.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?"

Steven looked at her softly. She still smelled of shampoo, but she'd been ready by the time he'd arrived.

"I've already eaten."

Flannery smiled at him sheepishly, and took a bite out of her toast. True to her word, she'd been fixing breakfast when he rang the bell to her house. It was a quaint house, tiny enough to be cozy and large enough to be impressive. It was well-decorated, too: large pastel rugs, white curtains, a large grandfather's clock, made of expensive-looking wood. He wondered the house had been Moore's, before he'd retired to see the world.

"I've brought you something Devon Corp. developed for the Sinnoh police," he said, gently switching the subject. "It's a handy make-up set." He clicked the briefcase open; she watched attentively. He explained the basics to her briefly, covering only the latex layers' part. Flannery looked transfixed at the sight of the skin-colored rubber, and even more so when he explained that it would peel away if pulled on. The hair dyes were self-explanatory; he didn't bother explaining those.

"What about those?" she asked, pointing at the tight, colorful balls lying next to the dyes. They were the same size as a pokéball.

"Changes of clothes." He shrugged at her disbelieving stare. "They use the same tech as a pokéball. It takes a while for a person to get used to it, I know. But you should see a police officer slip out of those when it comes the time to arrest a felony." He allowed himself a smirk. "There are quite a few videos online of a member of the secret police switching back and forth. They're amusing to watch, or so Sidney tells me."

Flannery decided she didn't want to try them on, after seeing the videos. "The mask and the dyes will be enough," she said, putting her pokénav back into her pocket. "This looks like it'll make you dizzy."

"It does," Steven said gently. "You get used to it after a while."

.

.

The light-hearted part was regrettably cut short after she was done eating. Steven pulled a map out of his bag and unrolled it on top of her kitchen table while she set things in the sink.

"There's been talk about a new cave near Lilycove," he said, pointing at a blue square, eastern of the town. "It used to be just sea, but apparently the cliff caved and an entrance just showed up."

"So, team Aqua's settled in Lilycove. What about Magma?"

He made a dry noise with his tongue, and felt a small jab of irritation.

"I don't know. They've made a far better job at covering their tracks than Aqua. The last anyone's seen of them was in Slateport, after talking to Brendan." He noticed his hands were closed. He opened them, before Flannery noticed. "We'll head out to Lilycove first and find out more about Aqua. They should know where their counterparts are hiding."

She nodded, but he noticed her hesitation.

"Is there something bothering you?"

"I just—" she exhaled, "—what will I do in Lilycove? My only pokémon are fire-type. I won't be of much help if we need to battle."

"I'd like to think I'd be capable of holding a few low-ranks back," he replied breezily. "Besides, there's no need for you to come with me. You can back me up from the city. In fact, you could scour for leads in the town while I search the cave. If the cave turns out to be nothing but a natural grotto, then we will have to find some other place. We'll plan things better once we get there."

"Lilycove is swarming with team Aqua," she said, crossing her arms. "We'll find something for certain."

Steven nodded, but thought she didn't sound too sure of herself. He wanted to set his hand on her shoulder and tell her he'd take care of everything, but that was a big responsibility and he wasn't sure he had come to terms with having someone appointed to drag him back. In the previous couple of days, he'd forgotten about Flannery's function – she was there to keep him in check. But suddenly, he'd remembered; he was sure that was why he was feeling so sharp today.

Steven sighed, and only noticed he'd done it when she asked him if everything was fine.

"Yes," he lied, easy and smooth, and kept telling her about what they'd do tomorrow.

They were finished by nighttime. Steven had the strangest urge to try and dissuade her from going, once he'd noticed how shaky her voice sometimes got, or how many times she needed to harrumph to get it back under control. It would have been easy reaching a topic of introduction – you know, you don't have to do this if you don't want to – but something about the way she followed his fingers with her eyes, when he tapped them against the map … something told him Flannery wouldn't give up the mission just because he'd ask her to.

So he just told her that he'd pick her up tomorrow morning, preferably before eleven, if she managed to wake up on time, and smiled when she reddened.

.

.

Steven hadn't been to Lilycove in a long time. It wasn't a particularly interesting city for trainers; where the casually-dressed trainers would have gathered were stylish girls and prim-looking boys instead. Contesters. Steven took a sweeping glance across the contest house and leaned to the side.

"I don't think Aqua would take any of these," he whispered.

"You're right," Flannery replied, with a nod. "Unless they were looking to sell them in the black market."

"Like scout girls and cookies."

She giggled at the comparison, but stopped abruptly. "That wasn't very funny."

He apologized.

They headed for the counter. The woman there gave the two a glance and told them that contests were finished for today, why not come back on Saturday? Steven raised an eyebrow and asked why there weren't any contests tomorrow. They usually had one a day. The lady gave him an appraising look and then smiled, explaining that tomorrow they'd be having a Battle Tent exposition. They were being built around Hoenn – if they didn't know – and they needed some publicity to get things started. The contest houses had offered to take them in for a day or two. After all, a lot of trainers passed by the contest houses. It would be perfect publicity.

Steven took this in and looked around.

"So tomorrow there are going to be battles instead of contests? How are you going to rank the trainers?" Flannery asked.

"We have a schedule posted by the door," she said, leaning over to better show them. "We've classified the pokémon by level."

Steven glanced at her. "Thank you," he said dismissively, and walked towards the entrance with brisk steps. Flannery followed shortly after. "The higher-leveled matches are in the afternoon."

"Do you think this is why they're all over town?"

"I wouldn't put it besides Aqua to steal pokémon," he said, taking out his pokénav and snapping a picture of the schedule. "But I don't think this is it. Let's make sure the grotto's not actually occupied. If it is, then Aqua has a reason for being here – Lilycove is a commercial city. There's not much battling activity around the center." He turned to her. "Our best chance is enter the battles tomorrow and get one of our pokémon stolen."

Flannery paled. "I – I don't—"

"I'll catch one by the edge of town. Preferably a water-type. It's easy enough putting a tracking device on it." He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'd never ask for such a sacrifice."

She smiled back, watery, but didn't say anything.

"Let's get to business. I'll go catch us something – you keep watch by the beach." They were lucky the weather was so nice; if it were raining, she'd stand out much more. As it was, she would only be a girl at the beach.

Flannery smiled a real smile this time, and said, "See you there."

.

.

He found a couple of tentacool near the water, and a mightyena on the grass. There wasn't much to pick from, so, after an hour had passed, Steven returned to the city with three new pokémon. Flannery would keep the mightyena, he'd keep the tentacool; after all, he had to be a water-type trainer from now on. The sooner he started getting used to his new teammates, the better.

Flannery was by the beach, her jeans rolled up to her calf and her shoes off. She looked a little embarrassed when he got there, and composed herself quickly. She didn't, however, put her shoes back on.

"I caught you a mightyena. Aqua uses those too." He handed her the great ball. It sparkled in the sun. "How did it go with you?"

She didn't point with her hand, but nodded towards the cliff up north. "There's definitely something there. They aren't even being subtle, you know." She shrugged, sending the water an uneasy look. "There was a guy over here training wailord. When I asked him what he was doing, he just told me he was working." She shrugged again. "And then he started saying that he worked for a super-secret team that would save the world and asking me if I was interested in joining. Apparently, I look like I'd be a" she chuckled and did air quotes, "wild one."

Steven felt his ears burning. "Could you identify this guy?"

"I guess so," she replied, phrasing it like a question. "Why?"

"Just to know who's on lookout duty," he lied. "The sooner I start knowing who's doing what, the better."

"Oh, I didn't think of that." Neither had he.

"Anyway – was that all?"

"Oh, yeah, pretty much. He trained the wailord – there were three of them – for half an hour more, and then just jogged around a bit. When I'd gotten here, he'd already started, so I'm not sure how long they stay on lookout duty. He finished at four-fifty, and since I got here at four …"

"It's most likely one hour. They must patrol the beach at that time."

"Okay, but why just at that time?" She looked down at her feet, half-buried in the sand.

"It's the time the PD patrols the coast." He pointed at the horizon line. "The Lilycove police invest a lot on aquatic vehicles, since it's a commercial town on the border. There's bound to be some trafficking."

She watched the water, looking slightly astonished. "Wow, I had no idea … Lavaridge has nothing of the sort. All we get are rock swindlers, and those are easy to scare away."

He was about to say that Lavaridge was nothing but tourists and old-people, but stopped himself half-way. It would do him better to remain more than polite – Flannery was clearly very proud of her hometown.

"So they're keeping an eye on the police. I'd guess they have a way to communicate with headquarters. Did you check him for a walkie-talkie?"

"He was dressed like a civilian – no walkie-talkie on him. He did have a backpack, though."

Steven sighed and shook some sand out of his shoes. "Okay then. We can check out the lighthouse. We'll be able to see the whole beach from there."

.

The lighthouse was south, but not far. From the top, Steven could see up until the rocks up north, where the dark mouth of the fallen-in cliff started. The sun was starting to set. In an hour, maybe two, night would fall. Where had time gone? Steven didn't really know, but when he checked his watch, he realized they hadn't had lunch. He glanced at Flannery, and found her staring outside one of the many glass panels. She didn't look particularly hungry, but perhaps she'd just forgotten about it – with all the excitement, he wouldn't put it past her to be too focused on the mission. His stomach felt a little too light when she leaned into the window, her hair falling in front of her eyes.

"We should spend more time here," she said, brushing the red strands out of her eyes. "It's a great vantage point. I can see forever from up here."

He nodded. "We'll come back tomorrow morning, then. Before the battling."

"About that—" she turned her back to the glass, still leaning on it, and stared at him, "—we're supposed to lose, right?"

Right, the trackers. He'd forgotten to request them to his father. "I'll take care of it when we head down to the pokécenter." He pulled his pokénav out, wrote it down. "We still don't know if Aqua's going to attack the contest house."

"Well, maybe we should be sure?"

He glanced at her.

"How so?"

"Why not infiltrate their base?" Flannery said, and her eyes widened when she noticed the look on his face. Steven hurriedly closed his mouth. "I, well, I mean, it you don't think it's a good idea—"

"No," he cut in, smiling, "I think it's a wonderful idea."

.

.

They returned to the pokécenter after another hour of beach-watching, all thoughts of dinner forgotten. He asked his father for the tracking devices to be mailed to him, sent Wallace a quick email, and didn't think about taking her out to dinner, not once. Instead, he'd hid inside the bathroom, dragging her along, locking the door behind them and pulling out the Devon disguise sets.

Steven helped her with the end of the mask, pressing his fingers into the connection between her cheekbone and her ear. Flannery was looking at everywhere but at him, but she wasn't blushing – or if she was, he couldn't tell. The latex was too thick to let the blood show. Steven looked at the mirror when his hands left her face. He looked like someone else, too. He supposed that was the whole point of a disguise, but all that was left of him was the color of his eyes. He didn't like seeing his hair so colorful, didn't like seeing himself being someone else.

In the end, he was the only one to dye his hair. Steven had reached the conclusion that she'd hardly be recognized just because of her hair, and Flannery hadn't seemed interested in dyeing it, either. There were red-haired people everywhere, he'd told her, when she asked him if she really had to. Gray-haired twenty-five-years-olds, not so much. So he dyed his hair. The package had lied – it read brown, but it was more honey than anything. And he looked like a little boy with his hair like that.

"What's wrong?" Flannery asked, pulling her hair back into a tight bun.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Are you ready?"

She nodded. They exited the pokécenter bathroom looking nothing like the people who'd entered it, twenty minutes before. Flannery ran her hand across the back of his neck when they were outside, and Steven turned to her, eyes wide. It was already nighttime, thankfully.

"You had some dye on your neck." She ran her hand across the fabric of her trousers.

"Oh," he whispered, grabbing at his neck. He cleared his throat and picked up the pace. "Let's start with trying to infiltrate the cave. You'll have to guide me through this."

When they reached the beach, it was empty. Steven thought it was strange; it was almost summer, and there was no shortage of love-struck couples wanting to bask in the magic of a night under the stars, listening to the waves and breathing in the smell of the sea. Perhaps it was because it was new moon. There wasn't much of a mood. It was too dark.

The rocks piled beneath their feet. Flannery was far more skilled than he was at hiking, and she reached the mouth of the cove before him. Her breathing was as normal as ever, too. The leggings she had on were casual, black, and tight. He noticed that when she climbed, her calf did a little skip. He decided to keep that to himself.

Inside, it was dark enough that they had to get their flashlights out. The light bounced off the water on the floor, which had gathered into tiny pools, and off the metal doors on the end of the cave. Steven thanked the spirits for the low tide – neither of them had pokémon that surfed on them.

"You were right," Steven said, "they aren't being subtle at all."

She smiled, but she was too nervous to be able to hide her anxiety. Her smile was too watery. He set his hand on her shoulder before he could think about the many ways the gesture could be interpreted. Flannery inhaled loudly and set her shoulders.

"Let's go."

"Let's."

The two of them reached the entrance carefully. From what he could see, there were no cameras, and no fancy card readers. Just a basic lock. Steven kneeled down and peered into it at the same time he searched around in his bag.

"You can pick locks?" Flannery asked, whispering into his ear. She sounded impressed. He nodded. She didn't pull away; when he side-glanced at her, he found her eyes fixed on the two small hooks he was inserting in the lock. She was a few inches away, close enough for him to smell apple.

He took more time than he should have, picking that lock. It was a regular old lock, nothing special, but he still took his sweet time with it. Flannery only pulled away when it clicked dryly.

He set his hand on the handle and turned it slowly – it was well-oiled, thankfully, which allowed him to open the door and peer in. There were metal crates all over the warehouse-like room, but it was the dim green light spilling from one of the corners that told him what he needed to know.

"See that light?" he whispered, pointing. "That's a warp panel. There's a network at work here. We need to find the one that leads into Archie's office, or something just as good."

"How do we know which ones lead where?"

Steven resisted the urge to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "That's the problem. We don't."

.

.

The compound was thankfully empty. Steven came to the conclusion that wherever Aqua had their members' quarters, it certainly wasn't here. The two of them still looked out for security cameras and night-guards, though; when one of the two broke into the boxes spread across the warehouse, the other was positioned a little ways back, keeping an eye on the corridor.

They'd just come across what seemed to be the starter's kit for new members when the flat, yellow color of a flashlight raked across the floor and walls. Steven was elbow-deep into the card box, pulling out striped sweaters and blue pants, and Flannery was leaning against the wall, looking livid. The two exchanged a tense glance, and he pulled his arms away from the box, bringing the clothes with him and nodding towards the large steel crate on his left. Flannery nodded back and padded towards him, falling to her knees beside him.

"What do we do?" she whispered, so quietly he could hardly hear her. She was breathing through her mouth, at least.

"Put these on," he said, handing her one of the uniforms he'd taken out of the box. Flannery stared at the striped sweater and then at herself, and Steven looked towards the opposite wall. He started to pull his jacket off, and then his shirt. He could hear Flannery fidgeting with her own clothes, but he kept his eyes on the wall. The flashlight was getting closer.

The Aqua shirt was a size too big for him, but the pants were just right. The circle on the wall was getting smaller, more focused, and he pulled at his collar. He could feel the sweat gather on his palms.

Flannery grabbed his arm, a little too tight. "This is the men's uniform," she whispered. Steven turned to look, and found her wearing a shirt way too large. It didn't stop at the ribs, either; he felt his stomach lurch. "What now—"

"Rick?" called the man holding the flashlight. "Rick, is that you?"

Steven's palms had never been so sweaty. He thought about Meteor Falls, about how cool the upper levels were, about how fresh the rocks felt against his palm, and then he took off his shirt and whispered an apology to Flannery before he pulled both of them to the line of light. Her feet caught, and her hand tightened around his forearm, but he didn't let her fall. His arm snaked across her waist. The two of them gave the flashlight a narrow-eyed, surprised glance. They couldn't tell who was behind the sparkle.

"Rick, what are you—" the man with the flashlight started, but didn't finish. Flannery squeaked and let go of his arm, throwing her hands up. Steven didn't let go of her waist. "Oh." The guy with the flashlight gave a long, suffering sigh. "Get dressed and go back to work before I report you. If you see Rick, tell him he needs to deliver his report until six AM tomorrow."

And with that, he turned away, and continued his patrol, muttering under his breath (they caught the words "doing it everywhere" and "shameless"). He let go of her waist, turning away from the flashlight guy, and found her open-mouthed, her eyebrows high on her forehead. The lights were green and dim and it looked as though they were in a horror movie, but Steven had never felt as glad to be in the dark; his face felt uncomfortably warm. He shrugged, keeping it cool, and was about to get dressed again—but suddenly she was laughing. She was laughing and she couldn't stop, her hands pressed into her mouth, her eyes closed and her nose wrinkled.

Eventually, he laughed with her.

.

.

The two of them found the archives' room a little later. They decided to keep the clothes, even if they hadn't found a woman's uniform for her. Flannery had tied a knot near her right rib and pushed it back, under the shirt. He'd looked away while she'd fixed her outfit. He didn't really know why – it wasn't as if it was too different from her usual choice of attire. Maybe it was because of the circumstances of it all.

"I can't believe that worked," she'd repeated amusedly, under her breath, while the two of them traveled through the panels. She'd gotten a little woozy the first time, but she was fine now, she didn't need to hold onto his shirt for balance anymore.

Steven looked away from the report he was holding, setting it on the table.

"All we have are financial reports," Flannery said, flipping through the pages with a bored look. "Half of which I don't understand."

"They're just account balances, they don't mean anything. If we want their plans for the future, we're going to have to ask a member."

She blanched, almost letting the dossier on her hands fall. "But – it'd be easy to spot us."

"Team Aqua has about three-hundred grunts. What are just two more? If anything, we're new recruits. We only have tonight to make sure we can track them. If they end up not stealing pokémon tomorrow, we won't be able to track their movements." He leaned against the metal table, letting his shoulders fall. "In which case, I'll have to infiltrate their ranks. That means I won't be able to help if anything happens while you're infiltrating Magma."

"I thought you said you were going to infiltrate Aqua either way," she said, and her tone was a little accusatory. Steven gave her a look.

"My father suggested splitting up, not me. I don't plan on leaving you alone. The whole point of being with you is to prevent me from doing something stupid." He waved a dismissive hand towards the reports. "These reports won't help us with Aqua's future endeavors, just their past ones. If we want to get anywhere, we need to change our way of thinking."

She sighed. "You know I'll trust you for most things. But this sounds way too risky. What if they recognize us? Not as champion and gym leader, of course, but as outsiders?"

"The guy before didn't say anything. I doubt everyone knows each other."

She bit the inside of her cheek and leaned on the table a little further. There was a pause. Finally, Flannery nodded. She looked obviously uncertain. Steven smiled, just because.

.

.

The plan was to find the guy named Rick and ask him for guidance. It hadn't been spoken about at first, but Steven was counting on Flannery's attractiveness to get them off the hook. It was scientifically proven that pretty girls were let off the hook pretty easily.

She'd made a confused face at him when he told her she'd be the one to talk to Rick, and asked him why. Steven had given her a look, because, come on, it was obvious. She was pretty good-looking – even with the mask on. He'd eventually told her so, and she'd promptly stiffened and stared at him, aghast. Maybe she'd even been blushing; sadly, he couldn't tell. Not with the latex mask. … He'd come to resent the thing. And even more, he allowed himself to admit that.

The two of them had searched about the rooms and Flannery called out Rick's name when they found a grunt. There had been a tense moment, because Rick hadn't turned right away; what if it had been the wrong guy? They didn't know any other names. But, thankfully, he really was Rick (Flannery had almost sighed in relief).

So here they were, trying their best to look like two newbie Aqua grunts, while the guy in front of them – a nondescript grunt, looking like every other male member – impatiently told them about their tasks. They needed to clean up the archives (someone had made a huge mess in there), and if they wanted extra pay for the night then he'd have them guard the submarine. It wasn't a hard job; they just had to stand by for a couple of hours until the morning shift traded places with them.

Steven gave Flannery a look at the sound of the word 'submarine', but she was looking at Rick with a small smile. Steven suddenly remembered he hadn't had dinner; his stomach lurched. He focused on something else. He'd have to call Captain Stern and confirm that this was his submarine. He'd heard something on the radio, but he hadn't paid attention. Now, he regretted it.

"Actually, we aren't supposed to clean the archives until tomorrow," she said, and brought her fingers to her mouth, making a big show out of biting her nails. Rick's eyes softened, and he gave a look around the room before his shoulders straightened.

"Well," he said, giving her a smile (Steven barely managed not rolling his eyes), "fine. But it'll have to be done tomorrow night. We need to get stuff done, but the day is full. Don't forget we're going to be at the contest house for the afternoon. Make sure to catch some z's after you trade shifts."

This time, when he sent her a look, she caught it, because her wide eyes searched for his first.

"Promise," she said, after a small silence, and then smiled at Rick. He smiled back – didn't notice how strained the corners of her mouth were.

.

.

Rick took them to the lowest floor. For a long, long minute, Steven thought the other man would stay there with them, but eventually he bid his reluctant goodbyes (mostly to Flannery). He watched him go into the green panel behind the crates, and waited for a few seconds before addressing Flannery.

"This is the submarine they stole in Slateport," he whispered, leaning against the metal grate that separated water from floor. He could see the security camera leering at the two of them from the corner of the room, but he wasn't close enough to identify the model. He couldn't tell if it could pick up sound or not. Flannery opened her mouth, and he cut in, "Just remember we're being watched. Careful with what you say."

She closed it, and then tried again.

"What are we gonna do now? Are we gonna stay here until morning?" Her eyes were on the camera as she whispered.

"First of all, please relax. You're just guarding a submarine. Just make sure it's not going anywhere." Flannery swallowed and loosened up, her shoulders drooping. "Okay, great. Now – I don't plan on staying here until the shift changes, but … That camera's going to make it hard for us to leave without any explanation."

There was a contemplative silence.

"Bathroom break," she whispered suddenly. "One of us can leave."

"I'm not too sure about that. I didn't see any bathrooms on the way here. It would be suspicious if someone questioned why you weren't doing your job. Remember you can't say you're looking for the bathroom – members know where it is, they don't need to look."

"Right," she huffed, and turned her back on him, staring at the submarine. She smiled, then. "Why not hijack it?"

Had Steven been a lesser man, he would have laughed. Instead, he said nothing, just glanced at her.

"I mean, it's not like a submarine has keys. It would be worth a shot."

"If we couldn't steal it, we'd have to reemerge. They'd probably ambush us by the time we climbed out of the water."

She took one glance at the security camera and sat on the metal fence. Steven was mildly impressed at her balance. The fence only reached his waist, but it definitely wasn't thick enough that just anyone could sit on it. Her hands gripped at the bar, whitening at the knuckles, and she straightened her back. Her arms were tense; they were her anchors.

"Okay, sure, but let's say … Hypothetically, a grunt is sitting on this fence." He paused, then nodded, going along with it. "It's just a grunt, really, not someone you expect much out of. After all, this grunt – she's just guarding a submarine. It's not like it's suddenly going to spring to life and swim away."

"Where are you going with this?" he whispered, but he couldn't help the smile creeping on his lips. Maybe because she was grinning back at him.

"I'll get there, jeez," she whispered back, and laughed a little, low and quiet. Her feet were dangling. "So, anyway, it's not like the guy at the control room would send someone down here just because a grunt is sitting on the fence. It's normal to get tired, and since there are no chairs around …"

Steven nodded. The two of them were still smiling at each other, and he felt a little silly all of a sudden. But he didn't stop smiling.

"I think I know where you're headed."

"Great," she replied, "because, hypothetically, this grunt doesn't know how to swim. And if she happened to fall back and maybe hit her head on her way to the water, her partner would have to jump in after her."

"Of course. It would be common courtesy."

"But he'd be a little shocked at first. She'd have time to sink deep down into the water."

"Which means he'd spend a long time looking for her," he said, and his smile broadened as he looked away. "Hypothetically."

"So they'd have time to check out if the submarine hatch opened or not. Not that they would, of course—"

"—of course not—"

"—but the time her partner would spend swimming after her would be more or less the same."

"Yes." He was starting to feel the familiar feeling of adrenaline, seeping across his body. His hand drummed on the metal bar he was leaning against.

"So."

"On the count to three. I'll wait five seconds after you hit the water. Then I'm coming after you."

"It's a deal. Don't leave me hanging," she said, with a smile, and for a split second Steven wondered if this was the same girl who'd acted so nervously around the other leaders, the same girl who'd blushed when they'd made their first plans, the same girl who'd followed his advice. And then it passed: she let go of the bar, lifted her legs up, had the care of looking surprised— and then she hit the water.

Steven startled, following his role. He needed to buy time, so he did: he leaned over the fence, grabbing at it. He looked around the room first, frantically, and at the water later. He counted to three, and then dove in after her.

The water was surprisingly cold, but clear. He mentally thanked the mayor for ordering such strict environmental measures – he would have to send him a letter of thanks one of these days, because the water was so clear he could see every twist of her red hair as she swam towards the submarine. She looked over her shoulder, her hair a cruel fan of red, splaying around the water despite the elastic keeping it tight, and motioned towards the hatch, shaking her head.

Steven hurried, kicking his feet. His shoes were uncomfortable, slowing him down. Flannery was a prolific swimmer – she'd gotten to the submarine very quickly.

The two of them grabbed at the metal circle and tried swinging it open. She exhaled when she pulled, but cut her breathing short as soon as she'd started. The hatch was impassive; Steven pulled at it, trying to get it to unlock, but it didn't budge. Flannery leaned her head to the right, brushing her hair away, and widened her eyes, pointing frantically at the massive lock welded into the side. It wasn't something he could pick – and even if it was, they'd left their clothes and their backpacks inside an empty card box. There was nothing he could do.

Steven almost cursed. Archie must have gotten it welded there after hijacking it. It made sense when Steven thought about it, but it was still unexpected. Who in their right mind would steal the submarine from their boss? The man had been properly paranoid, and Steven hated him for being so.

Flannery pulled on his arm, pointing up, breaking him out of his thought train. They'd been under for too long now. Any more time wasted, and it would be far too suspicious. Steven nodded at her and swam up. By the time they were close to the surface, he pulled her close to him and surfaced. She didn't have to be told to act knocked out; he felt a wave of appreciation when he felt her relax against his chest.

His hand pulled at the metal bars on the fence, bringing the two of them up. He laid her down on the floor, and gave her face a quick glance, just to check if the latex had peeled off with the water resistance. It hadn't. He breathed in in relief, and was about to help her up when a quick succession of steps sounded from behind him.

"What the hell!" Rick bellowed, his hands on his head. "What—the—hell—happened!"

Steven gave him a look from where he was kneeling, next to her. Flannery's eyebrows twitched, just slightly, and he surreptitiously linked his hand with hers, just in case.

"I don't know," he replied dryly, "she was sitting there and suddenly she just fell into the water. I think she hit her head."

Rick's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "Is she breathing? Oh, god, oh god—if Shelly hears about this we are royally screwed over, man! Do something!"

Steven stiffened. Flannery's hand gripped his, hard.

"What do you suggest—" he began, and Rick suddenly cut him off.

"Wait! I kind of know CPR," the other man said, and kneeled on the other side of her, suddenly. Her nails (however short she kept them) dug into his hand, but she didn't change her facial expression, not one bit. Steven started to feel cold. A drop of water started to roll over his forehead, and into his eye. He rubbed it off with his wrist, quickly.

"What do you mean, kind of?" Steven asked, putting his free hand on Rick's shoulder. The skin of his wrist was a little darker than the rest. Damn, the hair dye was rubbing off! He hoped it would last until he reached the pokécenter. "If you don't know how to do it properly, then don't do it at all—"

"We don't have time for this," Rick said, and his voice almost cracked. Steven felt sympathetic, because even though Aqua was the enemy, he was still worried about someone dying … Even though Flannery was not dying at all.

The grunt was probably panicking just enough to avoid noticing the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the way her neck quivered when her pulse sped up (thank god for that, Steven thought), but, eventually, Rick made to lean over, and Flannery's nails dug even deeper into the back of his hand. Steven pushed him off, gave him a hard look, and said: "I'll do it."

And before Rick could question the legitimacy of Steven's CPR training, he leaned over Flannery, opened her mouth with his free hand, and pressed his lips to hers. Her hand stiffened. In fact, the whole of Flannery stiffened. Steven pulled away and slinked his hand out of hers, placing both on her sternum. It only took him one slight push – he didn't want to hurt her – and she opened her eyes, coughing and sputtering quite convincingly.

Rick slumped against the fence, looking relieved and defeated at the same time. He gave a long sigh.

"Thank god," he let out, under his breath. "Thank god."

"Yes," Steven said slowly, not pulling his eyes away from her. "Thank god."

Flannery leaned her forehead and her elbows against her raised knees, letting her hands cradle the back of her head. Steven wanted to say something, but he couldn't; Rick was right there.

"Are you okay?" he asked, instead.

"Just catching my breath," she replied, in a whisper. Steven could only see her ears and the line of her jaw, where the mask ended. The difference between flesh and latex was too obvious – her ears were as red as her hair, but the rest of her face was as pale as the skin of her arms.

His stomach curled in on itself. He needed food, fast.

.

.

When the hysterics died down, Rick ordered Steven to take Flannery to the pokécenter, just in case. It wasn't like he was in shape to do his job, now that his uniform was sopping wet like that, and it wasn't like they didn't have replacements, anyway. The morning shift would just have to come in two hours early. Steven blinked. What time was it? Rick answered that it was a quarter to three, and then ushered them out. It was bad enough that this whole incident had happened, but he wasn't going to get the blame for the two of them getting pneumonia or something, so, yeah, they should head out to the pokécenter immediately! If she felt better, then they would all meet in the contest house at three. If not, well, then Rick would check up on her before that. Was that okay?

Flannery said yes, it was okay, and Steven cut in and said they'd be going now. Rick asked them if they wanted him to take them up, and Steven said no, he didn't have to, who would keep the submarine safe until the other shift got here? They'd be fine on their own. After all, he hadn't drowned. He was just a little wet. Nothing much.

And with that, the two of them headed into the warp panels, stopping only by the card boxes to pick up their clothes.

.

.

If the nurse had been surprised to see two wet trainers walking in at three AM, she hadn't shown it. All they got was a level stare; two seconds later, she was back to her magazine. Steven wondered if the Lilycove night life was fascinating to the point where the nurses were already used to aberrations like these.

They walked inside the corridor that led to the rooms. Their shoes made wet noises, but Flannery didn't even laugh. Steven felt disappointed.

The journey back had been less than graceful. They'd stopped outside the exit doors to take off the Aqua uniform (they clearly couldn't return to the pokécenter with it on), which had been more awkward than the first time they'd switched clothes around each other. Then, there had been no patrolling grunt to distract them of the sheer awkwardness of it all.

Steven had kept his eyes on the scaly rock walls, of course, completely turned away from her while he took off the dripping outfit. He'd only turned back when she'd said she was done getting dressed. It had been the first time she'd said anything to him since the CPR session.

It didn't bother him that much. It hadn't even been a proper kiss; just the press of his lips on hers. It felt clinical, like a cardio-pulmonary-whatever was supposed to. But she hadn't said anything to him the whole journey back. Steven had wondered about what to say to her, to lighten up the situation, but his head wasn't cooperating. And neither was his stomach. He hadn't eaten since breakfast – and neither had she.

Flannery was searching her bag for her key-card when he finally steeled himself.

"Would you like to have breakfast?"

She paused, looking at him curiously.

"Breakfast? … But … it's three AM."

Steven shrugged. "I haven't eaten in a while. And neither have you. It would do us both good to grab something to eat. Besides," he lifted his index finger, "we can sleep in tomorrow. Aqua is only going to the contest house at three."

Flannery shifted her weight from one foot to the other. He waited, feeling a little more nervous than he should have. Maybe because he kept thinking about what Moore would do if he knew about him getting handsy with his granddaughter.

"Deal," she said, with a small, tired smile.

.

.

They found a diner downtown. Steven offered to pay. Flannery didn't insist on splitting the bill; perhaps because she knew him enough to know that he didn't want her to pay, perhaps because she thought he deserved to find his way into her good graces once more. He wasn't too sure. The problem with the kiss incident was that they hadn't counted on Rick's interference. If Steven had somehow come to the conclusion that all of it would culminate on a kiss, he would've at least warned her. Flannery seemed the type to be embarrassed over something like that – and she was. He could tell, too. It was all over her face, when he caught her staring, when they'd bumped hands on their way to the ketchup. It didn't help that he kept remembering how cool and salty her lips had been.

Steven contemplated his fries. He wasn't a huge fan of fast food, but he hadn't eaten in almost a day, and it wasn't as though anything else was open. All that time he'd spent without an appetite had caught up to him. He'd already wolfed down two burgers and a coke. Flannery, on the other side of the table, had already eaten two cheeseburgers and was on her way to the third. He was mildly impressed at her stomach's capacity.

"I'm sorry for kissing you without your permission," he said, out of the blue, surprising even himself – but Flannery had turned red all over, so it wasn't so bad. He stared at his plate.

"It's okay," she said, setting her cheeseburger down. "Rather you than Rick."

The realization of it made him glance at her. Watching her eased his mind; she was clearly more flustered than him. He felt his lips pull into a smile, and didn't really know why.

"Err, I mean," she started, reddening even more (he didn't think it possible), "you know what I mean."

He was too tired to tease her further, but he committed the fact that she played with her hair when she was embarrassed to memory.

"Of course," he said, smoothing over everything. She stared at her unfinished cheeseburger and pressed her lips together, setting it down.

.

.

The next day, they dressed their – thankfully already dry – Aqua uniforms under their clothes. It was a tight fit, and Steven felt a little too swollen, but he decided not to complain. Flannery's uniform was only half his own – she was fine with wearing something on top.

The contest hall was full by the time they got there, a little behind schedule (the latex masks had taken longer than last night to put on). Steven leaned against the wall and scanned the area, searching for Rick. If they didn't see Rick, well … things would get a lot tougher. Who was Aqua and who wasn't? Flannery pulled on his arm, pointing toward the berry crushing machines.

"Over there."

Steven nodded and made for her to go first. Rick saw them as they approached, and gave the two of them a casual wave.

"Glad to see you once more! How was last night? I take it you crashed at the pokécenter." He glanced at Steven, a brief look, and then settled his gaze on Flannery. Steven rolled his eyes. "Did anything happen?"

"Oh, um, no, just standard health check. They wanted to know if I was prone to colds." She gave Rick a nervous smile. "In the end, I fell asleep. St—ah, um—Dave didn't wanna wake me up, so he ended up sleeping there too." Rick gave him a suspicious look.

"Beats the beds at headquarters," Steven let out, under his breath.

"He has a point," Flannery continued, seamlessly, "I haven't slept so well in days! Plus – free food! Great pancakes they have here in Lilycove."

The other man seemed to consider this, and then shrugged.

"Anyway, it's a quarter to three." He turned to the rest of the people by the berry crushers, signaling them to come closer. Steven tried seeing if he could recognize anyone – like the grunt who'd stolen the Devon papers – but he soon came to the conclusion that he had never seen any of those members before. "Let's start splitting up. You four cover the exit. You eight, each four take one stage." He turned to the rest: two women, one man, and the two of them. Flannery started fiddling with her hair. "You're coming with me," he said, pointing at Steven, "the rest of you wait for Archie. He'll tell you what to do."

Steven felt his spine crackle with goosebumps at the mention of the leader's name. Archie was going to be here and they didn't have a plan. "I'm just gonna go to the bathroom before we start," he said, dryly. Rick gave him a look of disbelief and then shrugged.

"Fine, meet me by the grand stage when you're done."

Steven waited until he was out of sight, and then he took Flannery by the wrist, pulling her through the crowd. She looked slightly confused, but continued following him into the bathrooms.

"This is the men's—"

"Archie is going to be here," Steven said, cutting her off. His hands were on her shoulders. "This means we need to lay low. You need to stick with your group the whole day. If you need to contact me, just text me."

"I—"

"This is important. Archie is in control of everything. So far, all of Magma's activity has been in direct response to Aqua's."

"So Aqua's the main offender?" She slumped against the stall's door, bringing her hand up to run through her hair.

"This was why I wanted you to join Magma – they're on the defensive. Chances are Aqua's the one who set everything into motion." He sighed. "I don't want to duel Archie right now. We'd be discovered before we could find out anything else. So, from now on, we'll lay low. If anyone asks, we met before Aqua and we joined together. Perhaps it'll be a good idea to say that we're dating, or that we are childhood friends – that will give us a motive to be together."

"I… W-What about names?"

"Well, you took care of picking one for me," he said, and smirked when she brought her eyes to his in a rush. "How about I pick one for you?"

"I—that was just because I accidentally called you by name," she said, and he knew she was red all over, he just knew.

"How do you feel about Rose?"

"I don't know!" Oh, she was blushing terribly. He could tell by the tip of her ears.

"It's settled then," he said, and allowed himself the pleasure of chuckling.

.

.

"Took you long enough," Rick said, when Steven got to the grand stage. When he didn't reply, the other man continued. "Oh-kay, so here's the deal. You and I are going to stay on either side of these doors until Archie and the rest of the team come marching in."

Steven nodded. "What then?"

"Well, Archie's going to make a speech, basically. This is just a diversion. Didn't you attend the mission briefing?" Rick stared at him, wide-eyed. "You seriously need to get with the times, Dave. Anyway – while Archie gives the speech, the rest of the team is going to spread out through Mt. Pyre." Rick leaned against the wall, smiling contentedly. "By the time Archie's done, we run out of here and meet the others. Once we have the red orb, we're pretty much done."

Steven nodded, feeling the pit of his stomach glaze over with ice. While the two legendary orbs at Mt. Pyre weren't one of his favorite subjects to discuss, Steven knew enough about them to understand that they would do no good on Archie's hands.

"Meaning that while the police are busy with interviewing the panicking masses—"

"We'll be one step closer to a better world," Rick finished, and smiled wider. Steven did not answer.

.

.

When Archie arrived, Steven had already updated Flannery on the mission briefing. She'd replied with a quick 'okay'; he'd taken it that she was busy, so he hadn't pressed on. His job had been easy so far. All he had to do was to keep an eye on the doors until Archie came in. He had given Rick a tight nod once he had walked past the stairs to the grand stage.

"Let out your pokémon," Rick said, pulling his jacket away. "Nobody goes out without Archie leaving first."

Steven nodded, breaking out the two tentacool he'd caught on the first day they'd gotten to Lilycove. They blinked at him. Steven had only let them out to tag them with the tracking device; their confusion was understandable.

"Guard the exit," Steven said, "and don't leave. Threaten anyone who tries to leave, but don't hurt them. Clear?"

They gave him a lazy look and settled on each side of the door. Steven nodded at them and spun on his heel, sweeping the room with a look. The audience was being coerced into their seats; the trainers on stage were fighting against the Aqua administrators. Steven could recognize them; Matt and Shelly, the red-headed duo of doom.

The first trainer – a blond girl who looked about twenty – was already being pushed into a corner of the rink by a grunt. Her linoone wouldn't hold on much longer, and it seemed she was out of usable pokémon. On the other side, two trainers were battling Matt's two mightyena. They were, unfortunately, psychic types – Steven knew they wouldn't last much longer. The fourth trainer was battling Shelly's golbat. He figured Shelly would lose the first fight, since number four had an electrike, but he doubted any of the trainers there would be able to fend the entire team off. His hands closed at the thought that he could help them, but he shouldn't. He couldn't just throw all his work away (even if it wasn't much). They were finally starting to get somewhere.

He looked away, toward the audience. Most people were looking mildly frightened by the presence of the striped sweaters, but they weren't panicking, which was good. Steven wouldn't be able to stand idly by if someone panicked to the point of becoming a liability to Aqua's plan.

Rick gave him a wave, and Steven turned to the doors just in time to see Archie enter. He was wearing his usual dark-blue ensemble. His stomach tightened. It would be so easy to just—

"Keep an eye on these," Archie said dismissively, handing him a couple of pokéballs. They were dark-purple; Steven thought of Devon prototypes and seethed inwardly. So this was why they'd stolen the papers. The master ball. "Just one is worth more than your house."

Steven knew for a fact that that wasn't true. His apartment in Rustboro was very expensive. He took them wordlessly, doing his best not to send Archie a scathing look. The other man was already on his way, taking wide steps, marching inside the stage even while Matt took the two trainers away by their arms. The man was about 6'2'', with large shoulders and thick arms. The mustache made Steven think of the truck drivers in Vermilion City, Kanto.

Archie leaned into the microphone.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." Steven kept an eye on the crowd. Everything was fine. "I am Archie, leader of the pro-ocean organization, team Aqua." He took the time to walk around the stage. Steven almost scoffed - the delusional grandeur types never really lived to see the light of day - but then remembered that this was what Archie wanted. He wanted to stay here for a few minutes, attract the police, and then raid Mt. Pyre. "How do you feel about the ocean?"

He paused, like he was expecting an answer. There wasn't one.

"We are working together to try and create a better life for people." He brought his arms up, like he was embracing a very large wall. The crowd was slowly becoming restless. The members were standing all around the stands, making it impossible for anyone to leave. And if someone managed to, they'd have to go through him first.

Evacuation would be simple. Archie first, then the admins, the high ranks, the grunts. Steven wasn't sure what he was supposed to be; he'd assumed that Rick thought he was one of the higher-ranked grunts based on the way he treated him, so he would play the role of aloof lower-class boss. It wasn't something he was used to - usually, he had the final word in everything.

Steven sighed, leaning against the back wall. He wondered if he was really going through with this.

In the third from last row, an old man got up in a hurry. Steven followed the grunt who attended to him with his eyes.

"Sit down!"

"I need my wife—"

"Sit down! You're not going anywhere, old man," said the blond-haired grunt. His hand was on the man's shoulder, trying to keep him down.

Steven pulled away from the wall and set his hand on the grunt's shoulder, doing the same; the young man gave him an acidic look, but didn't comment. "Relax." He turned to the old man. He seemed to have some trouble breathing. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"I have a heart condition, but my wife's the one with my pills." He gave Steven a thankful look, despite everything. His eyes closed, for just a second. He opened them in the next. "All of this commotion is getting to me. I need to leave."

"No one can leave," Grunt said, squaring his shoulders. "We have express orders not to let anyone leave—"

"Well," Steven said coolly, taking advantage of his height to look down at him, "if you'd rather explain why a man died because of you, Archie is right there. You can take it up to him, if you'd like. I will be escorting this gentleman out. I doubt it will change anything if one person doesn't listen to our leader's pro-ocean speech. After all, Lilycove is a coastal city."

Steven left with a small smile, holding the doors for the older man.

.

.

The trouble came after that. The older man – Guillermo – had sat in one of the many plush chairs in the empty lobby. Steven had wondered what had become of the receptionists, but he'd focused his attention on Guillermo instead. He was sixty-seven, a grandfather of three rambunctious kids, and a retired fisherman. He loved the sea. Steven stood idly by while the Guillermo caught his breath, but after a few minutes of silence the doors opened. Archie exited the room, backed up by five other Aqua members.

Rick was on his immediate left. He gave Steven a look.

"You and I need to have a talk about dos and don'ts."

"Very well," Steven said, returning his tentacool to their pokéballs. "I would have assumed you would rather leave before the police come, but if you feel a priority check is in order …" He let the words linger.

Archie gave him a sarcastic grin. "You know what to do next, I believe. Don't be late, or I'll dock your pay." Their shoulders brushed. Steven was leaner than Archie, but he was taller. "And the next time you are caught fooling around with that sweet-looking red-haired girl, I will move you to Sootopolis and you'll never see her again. Remember we have a very strict non-fraternization policy, boy."

Steven allowed himself to smile. The threat was anything but subtle, but he thought it funny that Archie thought he could separate the two of them.

He left. Steven carefully watched him go; Rick didn't do as much as to look at Steven after that. Was it guilt? Had Rick been tattling to Archie? Steven would probably never know. He didn't particularly care, either. He had to leave before the police arrived. Mt. Pyre was five minutes away if he used his skarmory, but he needed to be sure Flannery was alright before he left.

As if on cue, the other two doors opened; the teams came marching out. Flannery gave him a casual wave, but she looked a little off.

"Hey," Steven said, and when Shelly – who'd only gotten out of the room now – gave him a look, he cupped Flannery's face with his hands, bringing her eyes to his and checking if the mask was still in place. It was, but he only noticed a few seconds after. Flannery's ears were pink. "Are you alright?" he added, and then let his hands lower to her shoulders. Shelly was still staring.

"Oh – um, yes," she replied, and then whispered, "How did it go?"

"It went okay. Archie thinks we're dating. Rick must've told him something. Which means now you are in danger of being used against me. I thought you should know."

"They're headed to Mt. Pyre now. We're in different groups from now on. Margaret – our group leader – told me I had to stay with her at all times."

"I know. It's the same with me." Steven pulled away, gave her a look. Shelly and Matt were coordinating the exits. They were talking in hushed tones. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"We need to get out of here. I think they know we're not really working with them." Her voice was shaky.

"They do. I'm sure of it." He grabbed her hands. They were warm and soft and much smaller than his own. It made something inside him slide, like butter on a hot knife. "Listen, you have to leave. I need to stay with Archie and make sure he doesn't steal the orbs."

"He's only taking one," she said, voice tight with something he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Magma's already taken the other one."

Steven cursed under his breath, and Flannery looked surprised, but he didn't really care about politeness at the moment.

"Take my skarmory and request a meeting. Talk with Wallace and Brendan and then say something to me."

"I'm not leaving you behind," she said, hiking her chin up and entwining their fingers, making a challenge. It was a terrible for her stubborn streak to manifest itself. Steven shook his head, but she cut him off. "The point of me being here is to prevent this. If I leave, you're coming with me." Her fingers were tight against the back of his hand. Her hand was so small. "Brendan is on Mt. Pyre right now. Let him handle it."

And Steven – against all odds – let her drag him out of the contest house. Matt's and Shelly's eyes were on them as they left, and Steven smiled bitterly at them before closing the door behind him. He had the distinct impression that Flannery had smiled, too.

.

.

The two of them flew to Mossdeep. Steven had explained he had a house there, and it was closer to Sootopolis than Lilycove was.

Steven didn't really know what Archie had planned for Sootopolis, but he had talked about it and just that was enough. What was there? Was it a secret base? Or was it there that their plans culminated? He'd decided not to think about it too much. Inevitably, they would need to wait it out; it would be best if he didn't fry his brain over one word.

Flannery told Steven that Brendan had called her while on Mt. Pyre; Aqua had already been there. The teams had already stolen the orbs by the time he'd gotten to the top, and he was sorry for that. He would spend the night at Lilycove and fly to Slateport the next morning, follow up on Captain Stern, who had called him earlier in the afternoon. Steven told him that was fine, and thanked him – he'd already done too much already.

Flannery was in the kitchen making coffee when he finished showering. His hair had smelled of sea water and hair dye for a whole day. To smell his simple shampoo was terribly nice and reminded him of the long weeks he'd spent training for the championship battle. It was weird having someone in his kitchen, especially when that someone was Flannery. His house was too Spartan for a girl like her, he thought, and didn't really know why.

She turned on her heel, opening one of the higher cabinets (probably looking for sugar), and her eyes widened when she saw him. Steven pulled the towel away from his neck, letting it hang on one of the chairs.

"Oh, I didn't hear you enter. I made us coffee." She looked away from him quickly, very interested on the floor tiles all of a sudden. "Where do you keep your sugar?"

"On the left," he offered, and watched her stretch upward. She had dimples on the end of her back, and he caught himself staring after a long, long time. Flannery's ears were all red when she finally found the sugar. "I take mine black, by the way."

She nodded at him while she sat, pushing the saucer in his direction.

"What are we doing now?"

"I'm going to read up on Mt. Pyre folk. According to Brendan, the old caretaker couple there say that the orbs are required to maintain the balance of the land, but he isn't sure why. I'm not sure how that reads out, but I should probably do some research. Other than that, there's not much we can do." He leaned back, stirring his coffee. "We should keep in touch with Wallace and Brendan at all times. Other than that, I am at a loss for what to do next."

Mossdeep had never been too hot in the spring; he wondered if it would rain soon. The air was thick and hot as if it were summer. Steven ran a hand through his hair, sighing, and then unbuttoned the first button of his shirt. He moved to unbutton the cuffs, as well, and noticed Flannery's eyes were on his collar.

"I'm—gonna take a shower," Flannery said, getting up and walking out with a fluid, quick movement.

Steven took a sip of his coffee, smirking just so. It had been a while, but he was no beginner to the awkward cat and mouse game that was flirting. By the looks of it, Flannery was, and that only made him want to tease her more. He knew that would be stupid, of course; they were on a mission, and it would be unwise to start anything in the middle of it. But he still thought about how fresh and cool her mouth had been, and it was silly to pretend that he didn't. And it was stupid because that had hardly been a kiss, that was almost clinical and—

"Where do you keep your towels?" she squeaked, from the doorway. "I tried looking for them, but …"

"I'll show you," he said, and took the lead with a crooked smile.

.

.

Flannery was a late sleeper. He woke up at seven thirty, took a quick shower, and when he was done with breakfast he left her a note telling her he would be at the local library. He'd bring lunch, and he hoped she didn't mind take-out food.

The library was a small place. Steven had never set foot inside it before. He was a fan of reading, but he'd never had the time to visit. He was used to picking up books from Rustboro's library, a huge, tall building that was the top pick of the academic folk. Mossdeep wasn't a very large town, if you didn't count the large area the space center took up, but it was by no means a backwater place. The library was modest, but had a lot of categories. Steven stuck around the folklore bookshelves, making a decent pile of books before sitting down and trudging through them.

There wasn't much about Mt. Pyre. Steven learned about the underwater markings of the Sootopolis-Mossdeep trenches, learned about the beginning of Mt. Chimney, learned about the abandoned ship's story, but when it came to the orbs, there was little to no information about them. Their origin story was sketchy at best.

According to the older people, the stones had been found at the very top of Mt. Pyre, long after it started being used as a burial site. The ruby and the sapphire had then been placed on stone pedestals, as a form of adoration. Back then, rare metals and stones were terribly unusual and were regarded as spirits' offerings. There was something about it having a calming effect on dangerous pokémon, so the grounds around the mountain were great training places for aggressive animals. But other than that, there was nothing else.

He left the library feeling frustrated and hungry; he picked up Chinese and went straight home. Flannery was thankfully already awake – he didn't want to wake her up. The window in the guest room was open, and she'd done her bed as well. He smiled to himself, and knocked at the kitchen door before entering.

"Good morning. I trust you slept well?"

Her hair was down. He set the carton packages on the counter.

"I did, thanks. Is that Thai?"

"Chinese. I hope you like it." He really did.

Flannery's mouth inched to the left, in a pucker. He thought about her lying on the Aqua hideout floor, her fingers digging into the back of his hand.

"I'm not a fan," she said tentatively, and when she noticed his face she backtracked. "It's alright! I don't—I can make something for myself!"

"I haven't been here for a while." It had been long enough for the house to have that closed smell he always associated with his villa in Sinnoh.

She faltered, and then perked up.

"I'll go shopping! Does Mossdeep have a market?" Flannery looked like a little girl on Christmas Eve. "I never have the chance to cook fresh fish back in Lavaridge!"

"I'll go with you, then," he said, pulling his keys out of his pocket and smiling.

.

.

The trip to the market was uneventful. Flannery moved and bargained like a connoisseur; Steven felt very impressed at the reflection in the hallway mirror when the two of them entered, two bags in each hand.

The take-out food was already cold. He picked it up and chucked it in the trash while she asked him where the frying pan was. He watched her cook with utensils he didn't even know he had. Flannery turned out to be a wonderful cook. He decided he would like to try out her cooking after he served himself for the third time. Afterward, he put the silverware inside his washing machine, and poured two glasses of red wine. The bottle had a fine layer of dust around the glass, but Flannery didn't even care.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, after she'd drunk her first glass. Her face was already a little pink, but had to be looking for a blush to find it. "I forgot to ask if you found anything about the orbs."

"Nothing important other than they have a soothing effect on rampaging pokémon." He took a sip and leaned back on his chair, rolling up his sleeves to his elbow. She followed his hands with her eyes. "I'm going to text Phoebe, see if she knows anything about them. She's a fan of the occult, perhaps she'll know more than we do."

"No rush," Flannery said, with a smile. "I wouldn't mind staying here for the rest of my life."

Steven blinked, feeling the back of his neck turn hot. She looked out the window that led to the terrace. He doubted she'd even noticed she'd said it, but he had, he had, and now he had to set his glass down to avoid spilling wine all over his slacks. He played with his napkin, thoroughly analyzing the folds and creases in the paper.

"Oh," she drawled, with a tiny voice. "I didn't mean – I meant—"

He held up his hand, too embarrassed to look at her. He'd never experienced second-hand embarrassment before, but it was terrible. He was thinking about how she'd look wearing one of his t-shirts, or maybe how she'd look watering the plants outside, or maybe how she'd look leaning back on a chair, wearing a summer dress and setting her bare feet on the table. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to focus on something else, but then he made the mistake to glance at her. Flannery was red all over, her eyes wide in embarrassment, her mouth tight.

"I'm really sorry. I'm getting a little tipsy."

Her blush tipped into her neck and collarbones, sipping beneath her shirt. His brain shut down.

"It's alright," he was going to say, but instead he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, just enough to taste the wine there. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth when he pulled away, tracing it with his tongue. Flannery's eyes were as wide as saucers, and the red of her face deepened into crimson. He blinked, then, his mind reeling in and making him realize his previous course of action.

He was going to apologize when he saw her suckle her bottom lip as well. He pulled her left hand away from her lap with a careful pull, and his thumb drew a soft curve across the back of her hand.

"Sorry." It felt like he had to. It was quite the ungentleman-y thing to do, to steal a kiss like that, but –

"Don't be," she whispered, after a small silence, and so he leaned in again. This time, Flannery replied.

.

.

The following morning, he woke up at nine; a record, for him. He let her sleep in once more. He showered, had a light breakfast, and returned to the library once more. He'd left his laptop in his apartment, back in Rustboro, but he couldn't be bothered to make the trip back just to get it. In the meantime, he'd use his pokénav or the computers in the library. He sent Wallace an e-mail in which he described their progress, from the night they spent inside Aqua's hideout to their current predicament – their hiatus. He also contacted Phoebe, asking her if she knew anything about the Mt. Pyre orbs.

The woman at the counter gave him a smile when he checked out of the computer, but Steven couldn't be bothered to smile back.

When he returned, she was still asleep. It was already noon, so he headed inside his room, knocking on the wood with two fingers. She stirred awake and smiled at him, running a hand through her hair.

"Good morning," he said, smiling. "Or should I say, good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," she replied, smiling. She looked a little embarrassed, and – he noticed, with a large degree of satisfaction – tired.

"I only came here to wake you up," he explained, bringing his hands up. She turned pink. "I've already contacted Wallace and Phoebe. We should get an answer today, but I'm only checking my e-mail tomorrow." He'd deactivated his internet after the second month he'd spent away.

"This feels like a vacation," she said, bringing her arms up for a stretch. He could see her collarbones and her bare shoulders poking out of the sheets, and he had the urge to kiss her, so he did. Flannery stiffened, and when he pulled away she was blushing. "What was that for?"

"Do I need an excuse?"

She didn't have an answer for that.

.

.

Wallace called him in the afternoon. Steven excused himself and took the call in his veranda, closing the door behind him. Flannery was reading something he'd brought from the library to read while they waited for news, a book about Hoenn lore.

"Hey," the blue-haired man greeted, "how's it going over there?"

"You read my mail."

"I did." He nodded. "Listen – are you two going to stay in Mossdeep forever? Norman tells me Brendan's aiming for Tate and Liza's badge, so you should keep in touch and meet up. I'm pretty sure he's waist-deep into Aqua and Magma. He's the one who knows more about them, I'm sure." He paused, then, stared at Steven's shirt. The two top buttons were undone. "Is it hot in Mossdeep too?"

"Yeah," Steven said, raising one eyebrow. "What about Ever Grande?"

"Right now, it's bearable. But I'll tell you now – the temperature across Hoenn has been climbing. It hasn't rained in days, too."

Steven leaned against the railing. Inside, Flannery turned a page. Her eyebrows were furrowed.

"It's like it's summer," Wallace added, and then squinted at Steven. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing," he lied, loosening his collar. He hadn't worn his ascot tie in days. "How are things with the other gym leaders?"

"Apart from the heat, everything's been fine." Wallace sighed. "Moore wants to know how Flannery's been doing. She didn't call him last night, like she always does, so he told me to ask you if something happened. Judging by the smile you've had on your face since you picked up, I'm guessing something did."

Steven ignored him. "It feels nice taking a break once in a while. How are the media treating you? We've been off the radar for three days now."

"Pick up a newspaper or buy a TV, Steven. Everyone's been asking for you and Flannery. There are a lot of ideas going around. My personal favorite is how you two eloped and are honey-mooning in your villa." Steven smirked despite himself. "After the first romantic notion between you two came up, everyone forgot about the new champion."

The media – of course. That was why Aqua had been on the lookout for the two of them. Two persons of interest missing and two extra grunts? Archie was all but dumb; he'd put two and two together. He resisted the urge to sigh and rub his temples, annoyed. Days of planning out the drain because of the media. Figured.

"Funny," Steven said, and was about to throw in a snide remark about Winona when Flannery knocked on the glass. "I'll call you later."

"Don't break anything," Wallace said, and hung up, smiling like a naughty little kid.

Steven made a motion for her to come outside. It was hotter outside than inside, but the smell of the neighbor's flowers was pleasant. Flannery was still holding the book.

"Sorry to interrupt," she started, and opened the book where she'd marked it with her finger. "I found something I think you should look at. See here – this guy talks about legendary pokémon! I haven't heard about these since grade school." Her finger underlined a paragraph. "'Kyogre and groudon are thought to be the original makers of the land and of the sea. The first caretakers of the Mt. Pyre shrine apparently found a link between the rare stones and their behavior. The two of them haven't been since ever since the stones were found. According to pokémon professors, the two are most likely hibernating or keeping away from humans, since it is already usual for legendary pokémon to shy away from contact.'" She closed the book again and took a long breath. "What if – and this is a big what if – but what if Archie and Maxie want to wake them up?"

He said nothing. Flannery bit her lip, taking it as a sign to go on.

"I mean, it's like, the stuff we learn in kindergarten or something – kyogre made the ocean and groudon made the continent. What if they want to use the legendaries somehow? I wouldn't put it past Archie to try and expand the ocean."

Steven inhaled the smell of jasmine. "We underestimated them. They're not doing it for themselves." He felt a headache coming in. "They actually believe that either cause is the best outcome for the world."

"We need to act," Flannery said, all stubborn and determined like he knew she was. He leaned back further, feeling tired and old and bitter. This wasn't just about money and battling; this was about interfering with dangerous pokémon who could flatten a city or drown a mountain. This was about very serious battling, this was about old tales and desperation.

Flannery was looking at him, searching for an answer.

"I'll drop you off in Lavaridge tomorrow. Check up on the volcano and request a meeting with the other leaders."

"And you?"

"I'm going to Mt. Pyre. I want to talk to the caretakers. And then …" He looked towards the horizon, taking in the sea and the sand and the sky. The water met the beach with calm strokes. He wondered why someone thought things weren't perfect the way they were. "And then I'll figure something out."

.

.

It was ten in the morning when he landed in Mt. Pyre. He'd already dropped off Flannery – it felt strange not having her following him around, but he pretended it didn't bother him. They'd only been together for a few days, but it felt like much more. He wondered why, but shook out those questions when he landed.

The mountain looked different without a grey sky behind it. Steven had only been there four or five times, but the weather had always been foul. Mt. Pyre was usually a harsh climb, and a particularly misty one, so he felt slightly out of it when he got to the top and the sun was bright in the sky. Wallace had been right; the temperature, which had been crispy and clear in the morning, had now risen abruptly.

The old man was outside, tending to the empty altar. It looked sad, somehow, without the colorful glint of the stones to liven the white stone. He gave Steven a warm smile and something to drink.

"We don't get many visitors these days, champion. I'm sorry to say that the orbs aren't with us right now."

"I know," Steven said, taking the glass. The water was cool. "I'm here because I want to know what they're for."

The old man smiled.

"My father was the caretaker of this shrine, just as his father was the caretaker of this shrine. It runs in the family. Eventually, you learn how to take care of things." He turned away and waved at the cliffs around them. "The legend goes that the orbs maintain the balance. The blue orb soothes the ocean. It asks it not to drown the land. The red orb sets the boundaries of the land. It tells it where to end. The two of them are not to be separated. They are like – forgive me the cliché – like an old couple." His eyes crinkled in amusement. "Even if they bicker at times, they mustn't be torn apart. They've spent their life together; it would be cruel to separate them before the end has come."

Steven blinked at him.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"My wife and I, we've been married for sixty-four years. When she goes, I will go shortly after. It's how things go. Either one of us would do our best to be together." He breathed in, closed his eyes. "The orbs are the same. No matter what the cost, they will find a way to join one another."

"No matter what the cost," Steven repeated, more to himself than to the caretaker. "Hypothetically, what would happen if kyogre and groudon were to meet?"

"They would fight one another."

"What would the consequences be?"

The old man nodded at the horizon. Steven could see Fortree and the sea, and, if he looked to the left, he could see the route that led to Mauville. It wasn't a splendorous sight like Mt. Coronet, or Mt. Silver, but it was breath-taking all the same. Mt. Pyre was too small for him to see Rustboro, but he could see the Rusturf hills. From where he stood, he saw Hoenn, complete.

"You're looking at them," he said. "This is the highest point in Hoenn after Mt. Chimney. You can see most of it if you look carefully."

"I see," Steven replied, because he did.

.

.

He had five unread emails when he got to the pokécenter and accessed the wireless network. One was from Phoebe, two from his father, one from Roxanne, and one from Birch. Phoebe had sent him an email with a few tips on how to get more info on the orbs, but Steven had already learned enough about them, so he skimmed it and read the others. His father had sent him the two newest financial reports, and Birch had asked him if he could spare a steel-type for research. Roxanne's email was the only one who was remotely interesting.

Apparently, she was requesting a meeting on the account of the weather. The Weather Institute had called her to say that summer was coming in early. This wasn't uncommon; Roxanne liked knowing things about her country to the point where it turned obsessive. What was uncommon was that the Weather Institute had backtracked this morning, claiming that coastal cities like Lilycove and Dewford were being assailed with heavy tropical storms. The tides had turned, as well. The truth was, they were at a loss for what to do for the very first time.

Steven gave her a curt reply and told her he'd be in Rustboro tomorrow morning. When he was done, he wrote Flannery an email, but in the end decided against sending it. They'd see each other tomorrow morning; they could talk then.

Steven had come to the realization that his decision to kiss her hadn't been the best one. He was interested in her, but he didn't know if it was something physical or if he was just about to fall head over heels for her. Flannery didn't seem like the kind of girl who would kiss just anyone. Maybe he'd given her the wrong impression, maybe she'd thought that he wanted a deep, meaningful relationship. They had discussed nothing – they'd been far too busy kissing away the stress that had piled on.

He was used to one-night things – in fact, he didn't know what Flannery expected him to do next. He hadn't called, but neither had she. From his point of view, Flannery was one of the shy girls who expected the other party to call, but Steven never did.

He'd been an idiot. He was an idiot.

He closed the door of his house and leaned against the wall, cradling his head in his hands.

.

.

Rustboro was too hot and he hadn't slept well enough for the heat. In two days, it would be June, but Rustboro was near the sea, and was usually fresher than cities like Lavaridge or Petalburg; the stifling dryness was unexplainable. Once Steven arrived, he shrugged out of his jacket and took off his cravat, folding them under his arm. The meeting would be in the trainers' school, by the gym, and Steven hurried his step because he knew it had air conditioning. He'd get there twenty minutes early, but he didn't care.

He opened the door and came face-to-face with a sopping wet Winona. She flung her hair out of her eyes, glaring. Steven closed his eyes for just a second, while she did so, just to avoid getting splattered with water.

"Good morning," Steven said, in the politest tone of voice he could muster.

"I hit a storm on my way here," she explained, voice icy, even though he hadn't asked. "The weather's all wonky. Dewford is having a heat wave and Lilycove is being flooded. We have to do something about this."

Steven nodded and followed her to the closest table. Someone had written teddy loves dolores on the corner. He thought about Flannery for one fleeting moment, and his finger traced the sloppy heart beneath the words before he could push her out of his mind.

"What's the situation in Fortree?"

"Regular. Route 119 has been experiencing some warm fog, and the river's been growing because of the rain, but nothing the rangers can't manage. They've been changing shifts regularly to keep anyone from being unprepared." She sighed, twisting some wet hair around her finger. "They can't be there forever, though. We need to do something, and fast."

"Where's Wallace?"

The corners of Winona's mouth tightened just so. "If you must know, he's in Sootopolis. He said something about being busy—"

"Busy's fine," Steven replied, waving a hand, "that just means he's doing something. He doesn't want to be bothered. You know him."

"And it's precisely why I know him that I'm worried." She turned accusatory eyes to his. "Look what happened to you and Flannery, staring down Archie and being questioned by a team of Aqua members!"

Steven's fingers tightened.

"Oh, yes," Winona said, her hands pausing at her waist, "I know all about it already. No thanks to you, since the only person you ever email is Wallace. Flannery was kind enough to answer my questions, of course." She leaned in closer. "What is wrong with you? How could you let her go alone with a team of Aqua members knowing that something could go wrong?"

"I take risks," Steven said, the volume of his voice steadily rising.

"They held her against a wall and told her they knew who she was, Steven," she finished shakily. Her eyes were wide, but not as much as Steven's.

"What?" He kneeled into a chair, sitting without even looking. Winona leaned against her table.

"Lilycove PD called Wallace yesterday and said that they'd managed to arrest some woman, Margaret, who worked as a head for a large group of grunts." She blew her hair away from her eyes with a tight sigh. "Aqua knew Flannery and you were missing - as I'm sure Wallace has told you." She paused, then, frowning in confusion. "Didn't she tell you?"

"It's the first time I hear this." He played it back, remembering the moment. "She said she thought they knew we weren't with Aqua, but that was because we were too obvious." He brought his hand to his mouth and tapped his chin. "What did she tell you?"

Winona's eyes were still wide with fury.

"Margaret," she spat, "had orders from Archie to separate the two of you. You were deemed the," she did air quotes with her fingers, "dangerous part of the duo, so they just went on with the show in your room. Like everything was going according to plan."

He was breathless, and didn't know why.

"What happened to her?"

"Margaret questioned her." He ran a hand through his hair at the sound of the news. It explained everything. Why she'd been so shaky when she got out, why she hadn't been as bothered by his show of affection as he'd expected. "That's probably why she didn't want to tell you. It was the whole shebang, too – her shoulder still hurts."

He wondered if she'd felt like it had been her fault. Jesus, and he'd kissed her just one day after that, he'd kissed her and he'd dipped her into his couch, and his hands had stuck onto the small of her back, and her hair had been all over the crème surface, red and soft. God damn, she'd been hurting and he'd been stepping all over her feelings because he thought she was pretty. Because of the way her face looked when she laughed, because of her collarbones and the way her shirt settled two inches beneath them, lean and perfect. Because he'd wanted her. Hell, he still did.

Steven cursed under his breath, holding his head in his hands, feeling the pull of his skin.

"What did they do to her?"

"You should ask her yourself." Her tone was clipped, so he thought perhaps it would be best if he dropped the subject. "None of this would've happened if it weren't for you."

"None of his would've happened if it weren't for your interference in my mission," he said, bringing his eyes to hers. He hadn't been this angry in years, not since his father told him he was next in line for the CEO position at Devon Corporation, whether he wanted to or not. "She got hurt because you pressured her into taking this job. She got hurt because she was there and I couldn't—" his voice broke and he grit his teeth. Winona was staring at him with a slackened jaw, and he realized belatedly that she'd never seen him so anxious before. "Why did you need to get her into a mission like this? When you knew something could go wrong?"

"They didn't get me, Steven," Flannery said, from the door. Her hand was still on the knob. Steven's stomach clenched like a fist at the sight of her furrowed brow and tight mouth. "I took this chance not because they wanted me to but because I wanted me to." Her voice was trembling, like she was cold. From the corner of his eye, he could see Winona look away, toward the blackboard. "I'm not a baby. I thought I'd left that clear when we were planning things."

"I didn't mean—"

"You implied I can't stand up for myself!" Her eyes were bright and Steven knew that, had Winona not been there, he would already be leaning her against the door and kissing her, his hands on her waist. He flexed and folded his fingers. "There is a difference between being unable to act and choosing not to. The room was full of innocent people. I wasn't going to—"

"Did they hurt you?" He hadn't noticed doing it, but his hands were on her shoulders, and he'd walked several steps to where she stood. Winona was turning away now, absent-mindedly tapping at her pokénav, pretending the two of them weren't there. "I didn't mean to—" he cursed under his breath, and saw her widen her eyes in consequence, "I don't know what we're doing, and – I like knowing what I do." His hand touched at her jaw, brief, before settling on her shoulder, cupping her neck lightly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want to. Because I knew you'd overreact."

"This is not overreacting," he said, even though he knew he was in the wrong.

"It is," she breathed, reddening when she realized how fatherly he was being. He reddened too, feeling a bit too foolish and like the nice guys in movies. His hands dropped from her face to his hips in a dry movement. "I didn't want to make a mess of it, especially since you decided that we'd be better off skipping town." Her eyes turned at the ground and she sighed. "I didn't want to screw things up. I knew it was important, and – and I didn't want to be the thing to screw up the mission you worked so hard for—"

His hand slid through her hair through the nape of her neck, and a second later his lips were on hers. Flannery squeaked, her hands darting to his chest, flattening against his shirt, but he'd missed her, and so he pulled her closer, snaking his other arm around her waist. Her spine arched, her shoulders bumped against the door of the school, and he pressed his hand against her jeans, until he could tell when she inhaled.

It wasn't enough.

He pulled away just to watch her, just to see if she was as pink as he imagined her being, and then leaned in again. His hand fell from her neck to the small of her back, and he slowly removed his left from the pocket of her pants. Flannery was still stiff, still shocked, and he won another small noise out of her when he licked at her lips.

"Steven," she whispered, when he pulled away to let her breathe. His forehead was against hers, their noses bumping, his tongue smoothing over her lips when he brought it to lick at his. His palms straightened against the door. He wanted to be home and not in a school. He wanted her to be home with him.

"I'm still here," Winona said from her table. Steven's stomach dropped as he closed his eyes. Flannery didn't seem capable of figuring out words, so he harrumphed and turned to the flight specialist. "We have a bet going on, you know."

"Really."

"I owe Wallace twenty bucks," she said, like she was discussing the state's educational system or the complicated hierarchy of a pack of mightyena. She looked down at Steven, even though he was much taller than her. "I hope you're satisfied with yourself."

Steven didn't answer her, because Flannery opened the door and ran out, her right hand at her mouth.

"Sit down." He didn't. The woman sighed and settled for patting his shoulder. "She's not Cynthia, Steven. In all the years I've known her, she's never talked about boys. I shared a room with her in college – there was nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. She's serious about you if she lets you kiss her that way." Steven could feel his cheeks blush. "Don't go after her."

"I wasn't planning on it," Steven lied, and Winona smiled, because she knew.

.

.

He stared at his wrist watch until Flannery reentered. She looked fresh and not like someone who'd been kissed senseless by him, which made him relax in his seat, but just slightly. Norman had been the third person to walk in, followed by Wattson and Juan. Roxanne, Brawly, and Flannery were the last to get there.

Steven followed her with his eyes, but made no attempt to begin a conversation. Besides the usual greetings, none of the gym leaders – save for Wattson – seemed to be in a mood to talk. He understood Norman's plight (after all, he'd been defeated by his own kid, that had to hurt), but Juan was looking tired and even Wattson's pep seemed weaker. When Wallace finally arrived, seven minutes late, it became obvious why.

"We have a situation," he said, and sat on the teacher's desk, defeated.

"We have a plan," Steven said, in reply, and Wallace winked at him.

"That too."

.

.

The benefits of being Wallace's closest friend ended at 'always being there for you'. The downsides of being Wallace's closest friend began at 'I know everything there is to know about you and so I will help make you a better person, even if you don't agree with my decision'. Wallace could be driven and determined if he wanted to.

This day, he'd wanted to.

Steven glanced at his left side, where Flannery was sitting, resolutely ignoring him, and then to his right side, where Wallace sat, looking out the window like it wasn't his fault that Steven was stuck with the one woman he didn't want to be stuck with right now. She made him do stupid things. Very stupid things. And he didn't know if he wanted to be stupid or not. She made him worry about her when she clearly didn't need to be worried after, she made him behave like an adolescent boy with jealousy issues, she made him … imperfect.

The cable car groaned, metallic and heavy, and he found himself leaning on her while they made the curve. Wallace's elbow was on his shoulder, pressing him harder against her, and he turned his head to glare at him. They were on their way to Mt. Chimney. Even though Steven was perfectly capable of flying there, Wallace had insisted that he come with them instead of waiting for the two of them. Steven had started to say no and pulling out his pokéball. The next thing he knew, Wallace had pushed him into the cable car and sat next to him.

"What if the volcano is the same?" Steven asked in a monotone voice, using his clammy hands to push against Wallace's side instead of Flannery's. "Roxanne said that the Weather Institute didn't accuse anything."

"One step at a time."

Back at the school, Wallace had refused to answer Steven's question, only willing to share the first step in his plan. Split the team and search through the many natural wonders of Hoenn. Mt. Chimney, the Ever Grande Waterfalls, the sea floor, the abandoned ship. It was nothing new; a scouring. Steven had told him Brendan had already scoured half of Hoenn looking for Aqua – Wallace's plan was foolish.

"We're not looking for Aqua," Wallace had said, wagging his finger in an over-the-top way. "That's the beauty of it!"

"Then what are we looking for?" Norman had asked, impatient and short-tempered. "Magma? It's all the same. Plus, we have no jurisdiction."

"Matter of fact, we do," Roxanne had said, pulling a case file from her bag. "Archie and Maxie are being searched for vandalism and theft. They're small charges, but they're set in stone. They'll land the two in prison for a few months, for sure. And then, while they wait, the police act on it and find the true crimes – fraud, money laundering in Johto, bribery, embezzlement, forgery, counterfeiting. Plus trying to set up riots in commercial towns like Lilycove and Slateport."

"What about trying to destroy the world? How much does something like that go for?" Brawly had drawled, and Roxanne had given him a look.

"Anyway," Wallace had interrupted, clearing the air, "just do me that favor, will you. Three-man groups: Winona, you try getting some help from Liza and Tate, tell them about the situation." She'd nodded curtly. "Norman, you take Brawly and Roxanne. Wattson and Juan, you'll work together as well. Flannery, I'm sure you won't mind staying with me and Steven."

And Flannery had stared at Wallace, her lips parted in shock that someone would be so shameless as to say something like that after knowing everything that had gone between her and Steven. But she hadn't said no. So here they were, sharing a cable car to the top of Mt. Chimney, because Wallace could still have his fun. Perhaps, Steven mused, this was his revenge for being put on the spot when Steven had stepped down from his job. Yes, that was probably it.

"One step at a time," Wallace repeated, rubbing it in.

.

.

It had been confirmed that they would be looking for peculiar weather activity. Everyone was already fairly sure that kyogre and groudon had been found by the two teams, and Flannery had told them about the book she'd read when the two of them had been in Lilycove. Roxanne had huffed and pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered, how could she be so stupid, of course, it was so obvious!

Wallace had smiled, and nodded, and then said that he'd reached the same conclusion after talking to one of the Sootopolis' Cave Restoration Comitee members. They were very linked to Hoenn's lore; after all, Sootopolis was, supposedly, the cradle of Hoenn. Everything had come after it. So Wallace had assumed that if something was about to go down, something that involved catastrophic climate changes and tectonic movements, then Sootopolis was the place to go. He'd been right; the caretaker of the cave had indulged him and rewarded him with some old tales and a guided trip inside the cave. Steven found the similarity to his own journey into Mt. Pyre amusing, but had refrained to comment on it at the time.

So Wallace had figured that they were to keep in contact with the Weather Institute, to track down the legendary pokémon Aqua and Magma had awokened. Their signature abilities were dead giveaways for their location, right?

"So why are we here instead of tracking them?" Steven asked, and was unable to clear the bitterness out of his voice. Wallace had left clear that if Steven wanted in on all the fun, he'd have to oblige. Steven hated obliging.

"Because," Wallace said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "we need to make sure the vulcano doesn't erupt. In case it does, I think we're the most capable trainers in Hoenn. We're going to deal with this. Besides, we have the other leaders helping us out. I even gave the elite four a word of advice on how to deal with the weather."

Steven had to admit he was right. Even if Flannery wasn't as good a trainer as he and Wallace, she was still excellent, and she knew the terrain as well as the back of her hand. He gave her a look, feeling the back of his neck shift into that familiar burn he'd already started to get used to. He'd come to realize it happened when he wanted to kiss her, so he chose to ignore it. He didn't like feeling so focused on just one person, not when the world was so wide and there was so much to see. She scared him.

"So now we wait," he said, and Steven looked away, into the lava.

"This wasn't the best of your ideas, Wallace," Steven said, and allowed himself a smirk.

"Think of it as a camping trip!" the other man said, raising his hands. "Just us and nature – when was the last time we appreciated Hoenn for what it is?"

He could tell when Flannery gave Wallace a look, her eyebrows high on her forehead. He knew that look, too; it often happened when Wallace revealed his less serious side, when he spoke loudly and waved his hands around. Most people were used to soft, elegant Wallace, and didn't know how to react to small-town, enthusiastic Wallace.

"For how long are we going to stay here?" Flannery asked Wallace. He wondered if she was ignoring him. She hadn't given him a word yet. "I'd like to see my grandfather. Er, if it were possible," she added, in a hurry, eyes wide. "Besides, there's a volcanologist who comes here every day. Lavaridge is in good hands."

Her head was held high and Steven concealed a smirk at the sight of Wallace's confounded face, but in the back of his mind, he wondered why Flannery hadn't said it before. It would have spared them a trip to Mt. Chimney. An awkward, awkward trip.

"Really?" Wallace asked, surprised, and then backtracked. "Well, of course—I didn't mean—well, this makes a dent in our plans, doesn't it."

"I told you this was ridiculous," Steven said, and, this time, he didn't bother looking casual.

"Yeah, but you always tell me that." He ran a hand through his hair. "Well, if that's the case, then I suggest splitting up and grouping up with the rest of the leaders. I'll have to give the volcanologist my number, of course."

This time, Flannery very deliberately gave him a sharp look. She looked like a child scorned, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

"I have his number," she said, as though it was obvious – and it was, that was the beauty of it. "What kind of a gym leader would I be if I left my hometown without even knowing what would be going on?"

This time, Wallace blushed, and apologized, and Steven laughed. Flannery glanced at him, and then flushed, uncrossed her arms, and looked like she was about to apologize for her tone, but she didn't. He gave her extra points for that.