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The realization gave her something to focus on and she sat up a little straighter, listening out. The sounds of the festivities had died off completely, with only one familiar voice rising above them all. Letting the scarf fall from her face, she made a hand sign, concentrating some chakra to her ears. This temporarily enhanced hearing could only do so much, picking up small snippets here and there. “You witnessed it”, “what you saw”, “our argument”; it was all she needed to hear to connect the dots. 

They’d witnessed what happened. Of course they did, she’d been screaming like a crazy person--was she a crazy person? Everyone was going to think so after that shitshow. She could imagine their reactions, the way they all muttered to one another with their judgments of her. By this time she had long tuned out the rest of Morty’s address to the crowd, her senses once again filled with the sounds of her descending into panic.

She wanted to get up and run again. Run all the way back to Goldenrod if she had to and board the first Magnet Train back. No, even better, summon her Crobat and fly away, without even the possibility of having to see another human face. But she couldn’t do that. Her kids needed her, though who knows how they’d look at her now after watching her fall apart like that. What were they saying behind her back right now? What was anyone saying? She didn’t need to hear Morty to know that any attempt at damage control would fall away to the nature of human gossip.

She didn’t need to think, she already knew. A young up and coming leader who’d been given the position by Daddy, not worthy of having earned it herself. And like the impetuous child they’d assumed she was, she’d had a temper tantrum on their poor, innocent, perfect human being of a Gym Leader. This wasn’t some mistake she could ignore and bury with the one or two people that experienced it. It had been broadcast for a city to see and they were all likely looking down on her, just as Morty was.

It had crept up on her before she even knew it. Her muscles were tense, her lungs desperately gasping for air, the black buzzing tendrils fully encapsulating her brain and squeezing it, threatening to burst. She couldn’t run, she couldn’t hide, she couldn’t even reach into her belt to summon her Weezing’s comforting gas. All she could do is sit there, hunched over and shaking with her face buried in her scarf and cry. It manifested in the form of sharp gasps and silent screams but the tears still ran, smearing against the pink fabric balled tightly in her fists.

Once when she was a child, she’d accidentally consumed a beaker of distilling venom, believing it to be one of her fanciful colored drinks. While the liquid wasn’t fatal, it wasn’t pleasant either and she’d spent the rest of the day bent over a toilet while her mother had screamed at her father about his irresponsibility. The budding shinobi didn’t even have the energy to worry about it though as she continued puking and projecting into the porcelain bowl nonstop. She’d thrown up the liquid and her lunch and her breakfast and yesterday’s dinner and every drink she’d had and just kept heaving and retching nothing but water and stomach acid until there was literally nothing left.

And that’s what she was doing with her emotions today. Every new wave of panic brought on another retch of quiet screams or silent sobs. This incident had been the beaker of poison, sure, but soon she was heaving up every worry and anxiety that had been building and brewing inside of her over the years. Burying your feelings under the guise of ‘control’ can only hold out for so long.

But just like her childhood incident, soon, there was nothing left to retch. As the last wave of her attack rode itself out, she shuddered out what little remained. In the end, all she could do was slump inward on herself, with no energy even to tremble. She sat there, heavy and motionless as her breathing slowed to a deep, tired rhythm. A dull pain thudded against the back of her skull, buzzing in a way she hadn’t felt in...who knows how long. Ever? There were hints of it in her past, but never like this. Was she going crazy? Maybe she was. Maybe she went crazy like mother dearest had. Would she wake up one day and feel the urge to run away too?

In the end, all the questions could do was float through the black emptiness of her mind, hitting walls but making no purchase. She moved on autopilot now, slowly lowering the cloth from her face so she could breathe better. Slowly, a hand reached up and took out the band holding her hair back, letting the thick purple clumps cover and hide her face instead. By the time Morty arrived, she merely sat with her knees to her chest and her arms draped listlessly over her knees, curtained head hanging between them. She didn’t lift it, even as the medium made his presence known.

Her Toxicroak, who had watched in confused horror just as frozen as her master, almost went to step in between them protectively. At the gesture, and Janine’s silence, she reluctantly stepped to the side, wringing her hands nervously as she looked between them. Janine did not acknowledge him but that didn’t stop him from speaking first anyway.

If she was listening, she certainly wasn’t making it known. What might have elicited a snide remark, a defense, or even a grimace from the usually fiery kunoichi instead brought about nothing. She merely sat there in a slump, exhausted and devoid of any of her trademark energy. However, at the mention of the townspeople, she gave the slightest of a wince, her first give that she was in fact tuned into what he was saying. It didn’t last long as the silence and stillness fell over her again. Soon enough, it did for him as well as his offer hung heavy in the air.

After what seemed like an eternity, she inhaled sharply through her nose. She lifted her head slightly, though away from him, not daring to show her face. When she finally spoke, it was in a gravely murmur. “I’m fine. I don’t want to go back to your place, I don’t want tea, I want...”

She paused for a moment. What did she want? After a couple seconds, she let out something of a breathy, bitter laugh as she scrunched up a chunk of purple hair in her fist. “Y’know what I want? I want some fuckin’ answers.” 

“When I first...appeared as I was,” She said carefully. She’d always hated the phrase ‘coming out’ and wasn’t about to use it now. Still, as she continued on, her already exhausted filter lessened. “You were...going through some stuff. I didn’t really know what, I just know that’s just when you were doing your thing and I was doing mine. And you know what, whatever, fine. But when you came out of it, you weren’t really like Falkner. You didn’t just...take me for who I was, but hold onto the old. You...you acted like you didn’t know me. That I was an entirely new person.”

“And if I’m being honest? I guess I appreciated that. A couple others did that and you know what, it worked. But I realized soon...without our history behind us, you are really fuckin’ obnoxious. No more inside jokes, no more understanding, just this weird dynamic where you double down on your friendship with Falkner while totally leaving me behind in the dust. And don’t even get me started on all the bullshit with Falkner cuz I might--”

She cut herself off, huffing loudly. She didn’t know if Falkner had ever talked to Morty about his feelings and the way they act as a couple just short of being one and how much that messes with her best friend-- but for once this wasn’t really about him. She was quick to change the subject, shaking her head. “But here you are now, saying you care for me when I’ve done nothing but be an asshole to you. And it wasn’t on accident either, I’ve been so mad at you for so long and I could never get anything out of you for it. Always patient, always kind, precious sunshine little Morty,” she grunted obnoxiously. She gripped her hair tighter.