hello, darlin'

Hustling as quickly as possible, she headed straight in the direction she saw Gracey going the night before. The morning sun was bright, but she felt no hangover - only anticipation for what was to come. Soon, the cowgirl’s home was rising into view.

Coming up to the cozy cabin, she saluted the blonde with a ‘good morning’, and bowed to the parents. They seemed like charming people, not out to exploit her, which was a refreshing change of pace. She was incredibly grateful to them for giving her a chance, and would do whatever it took to make a good impression. Afterwards, Gracey ushered her to follow to the stable.

"So, Clair, do ya know anythin’ about ridin’ a Rapidash?" 

She shook her head hesitantly - she didn’t want to appear like a novice, but it was the only way for her to learn. Anticipating some sort of surprise. she watched on as Gracey unlatched the doors and led her inside. Housed within the stable were a beautiful collection of Rapidash, each one gleaming with glory and a raw beauty. Together, they visited one off to the side.

"Daddy just bought this one a little while ago from a fella who packed up and left town… We haven’t named him yet, since we don’t plan on keepin’ him."

The blonde took hold of Clair’s hand and placed it gently on the muzzle of the creature, before continuing.

"Mama said you can borrow him for a while, so I guess that means you should give him a name!"

Clair became somewhat nervous, being put on the spot. She racked her brain for a name, but couldn’t think of anything right away. Looking into the face of the majestic beast, she could see a curiosity lingering in the horse’s eyes.

"He looks like a ‘Domino’ to me," she said, abruptly but somewhat surely. His eyes spoke of past adventures and disappointment, much like her own sordid past. But like Clair, he seemed to be a sturdy one - picking himself up after each tumble.

“Whatcha got on the agenda for me, boss?”

"We'll start with the basics!" Gracey declared, hefting a heavy leather saddle off of it's wall hook. She nodded toward the one that hung directly beside it. "You can borrow that one, there. Now just fix Domino up with it, but make sure all the straps are on good n' tight!"

Dragging the saddle over to her own Rapidash, the cowgirl quickly hoisted the weighty hunk of leather over onto the pokemon's back, quickly securing the straps. She returned to Clair to oversee her handiwork.

"Yes, yes, my name’s been Roark for the past nineteen years," he answers curtly as she stammers out his name one more time. "Ain’t no other Gym Leaders in Sinnoh with that name. If you want a battle, I’m afraid the answer is no. I don’t have Pokemon anymore…" His words trail off and briefly he feels the sting of jealousy stab through him. The other day, he saw his Tyranitar—HIS Tyranitar he raised from an egg—loyally following around some other trainer.

But it’s not like they’ll talk to him if he asks for his Pokemon back, anyway. The girl introduces herself as Gracey, someone he definitely doesn’t know from anywhere else. He wonders what she’s doing all alone in the mine at night. He’s about to scold her for being so reckless, but then she answers his question.

A… story?

What in the world are the miners saying behind his back? Nothing unkind, he hopes.

"What kind of story would that be?" She’s shining the flashlight right in his eyes, and he squints, but only out of habit. It doesn’t really hurt him to stare right into the beam of light. "I hope it’s not one of those embarrassing ones."

Suddenly, she extends her hand out to him as if to shake it.

Roark blinks.

He doesn’t remember the last time he felt the touch of another human. A bit too eagerly, he grabs for it… only to have it slip right through her palm.

He bites his lips and his eyes water. Like everything else around him, this girl only serves to mock him. She probably isn’t real. He’s probably snapped after having been down here for so long.

"Nothin' embarassing," she assured him with a sigh. "They were more or less just ghost stories..." She paused, her green eyes fixed on his face. If he really was a ghost, she didn't want to offend him. "The miner, he said he'd heard footsteps deep inside the mine, or somethin' along those lines... and when he went to investigate, there was nobody there."

She gasped as he reached for her outstretched hand, only for his fingers to slip right through hers--all she felt was an icy cold sensation. Looking up, the crestfallen look on Roark's face broke her heart.

"I’d rather be all alone again than be with someone who don’t exist…"

The pair sat in silence for a couple of seconds. Gracey didn't know what to say. If anything, that last gesture had proved that he truly was a ghost, but she wasn't afraid of him--all she could feel was sympathy. But what could she do?

"Hey..." she murmured softly in a poor attempt to comfort the boy. "I don't reckon there's anythin' I can do to prove I'm real, but..." She sighed, tugging on the ends of her hair awkwardly. "I guess I'll just have to take my word on it. You don't have to be alone anymore."

She smiled weakly at him. That wasn't enough. She couldn't even fathom how long Roark had been alone in the dark, but she was sure a few sympathetic words would be little comfort to him.

Kellen cracked a wide grin, and the sailor couldn’t help but laugh uproariously at Gracey’s comment. “You’re right, cowgirl! I’m obviously a saint despite everything that I’ve done, right? St. Kellen, I like the sound of that! Wahaha!” Shooting the blonde girl as schmoozy wink, the sailor wiped a tear from his eye, secretly grateful that Gracey wasn’t judging him like the others. She had a spine, this cowgirl did!

Kellen could only gape in surprise as Gracey got up in his face again, a sudden indignant look on her face, her green eyes flashing in the ocean breeze. 

"I would’a turned ya down if I’d known you’d throw me back into the ocean!”

The sailor felt a blush coming on as Gracey seemed unaware of the closeness of their faces, so he firmly grabbed the blonde’s shoulders and moved her back on the Wailmer, a smug look on his face.

"First of all, cowgirl… I can hear ya loud an’ clear. Second of all, ya didn’t have to be on my dock in the first place or accept my lessons! An’ third of all… I like the spunk, but are ya ready for lesson number three? Wailmer, Aqua Jet!”

A great mass of bubbles shot out from behind the Wailmer as the groaning Pokemon rocketed towards the shore happily. The salty wind whipping at his hair and a big grin on his face, Kellen kept Gracey on the Pokemon with a brawny arm as the Wailmer skidded across the coast. “See? The ocean is the best, and once ya accept that… you’re a true sailor! Eat waves, landlegs!” the sailor crowed as he and Gracey raced towards the shoreline, spraying beachgoers with water. The Wailmer skidded to a rapid stop, and Kellen quickly tried to prevent Gracey from going into the water a third time, grabbing her around the waist and lightly giving her a push onto the dry sands, falling off of Wailmer in the process. Unfortunately for the sailor, the tide broke as he lay in the shallows, covering him with sandy water. Kellen slowly got up out of the beach muck, a brooding expression on his face.

When her blush began to subside, she turned back to face Kellen once again as he spoke, puffing her cheeks out in slight annoyance. First of all, he was calling her cowgirl again. Second of all, she had already apologized for that--hadn't she? Well, maybe not... While she was suddenly distracted by the task of remembering whether or not she had apologized to Kellen for trespassing onto his property, she managed to tune him out for a second until his thundering voice made it impossible to ignore him any further.

"Wailmer, Aqua Jet!"

"W-Wait a minute!" Gracey cried, her eyes growing wide. But it was too late; the giant pokemon had already begun to race toward shore with a sudden burst of speed that took the cowgirl completely by surprise. She would have fallen off had it not been for Kellen, who held her steady with one arm.

She held her breath the entire time, preparing herself in case she did fall into the water--however, when the Wailmer came to a sudden stop, sending both passengers flying through the air, the cowgirl couldn't contain her high-pitched shriek of terror. 

Before she knew it, a large pair of hands hand pushed her off-course, causing her to land on soft sand rather than in the briny shallows, where Kellen landed. She sat there for a moment, her green eyes scanning his sodden figure as she realized that he had pushed her to safety, sacrificing himself in the process.

Well, maybe it wasn't quite that dramatic, but that was the basic idea.

Gracey laughed as Kellen's statement mirrored her own exaggerated thoughts, standing and brushing the sand from her mostly-dry clothes. What was this game they were playing, where they went back and forth, each one owing the other something?

A low growl caught her attention, and she looked over to see Sable dragging her boots through the sand by her teeth. The cowgirl took her now completely dry boots from the Poochyena, patted her softly on the head as thanks, and promptly called her back into her poke ball.

"Well, Kellen..." she grinned, straightening up to face the tall man. "Just lemme know what I can do to repay ya!"

His emotions further change into curiosity as she says his name. He stops in his place and scans her trembling figure. Roark has no need for light or even the ability to see anymore, yet he is able to make out her outline despite the pitch blackness of the mine.

He can’t recognize her, and it’s been forever since he was back up to the Gym. Nobody even acknowledges his presence anymore, even if he’s standing right there.

Why, even his own father went to the place where he took his fall and he didn’t notice him no matter how much he cried out!

His father doesn’t visit anymore.

Roark lets his anger and vengeance subside, and he walks up to the girl, blinking.

"Wait, you can hear me?" he asks, feeling the slightest twinge of hope that maybe, for the first time in a long while, he’ll finally be able to speak with another human being. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

He kneels to her level and fishes through her backpack, finding the flashlight and flipping it on. She’ll definitely need that if she wants to get out. Maybe that’s why she’s scared.

Then again, it’s partly his fault, too, swooping in before checking if it was the right person.

"Wait, you can hear me?"

"Y-Yes?" she whispered, her eyes blinking uselessly in the darkness. She had given up on trying to find her flashlight for now; she was trembling far too much, and she was afraid that if she did find it she might drop it and be trapped in that underground labyrinth forever. She gulped as the voice questioned her further. It sounded much less malicious than it had before, much to her relief.

Suddenly, a light flipped on in her backpack. It was her flashlight. She reached in and took hold of it, hesitating to pull it out of her bag. What would she see when she shined the light in front of her? Would she see a monster? Would she see nothing at all?

"My name's Gracey," she finally said, still holding the light within her backpack. "I came here lookin' for you, Roark."

Finally, taking a deep breath, she removed her hand from within her backpack, bringing the light out with it. The cavern suddenly became illuminated by the artificial yellow light, and she saw him.

Just a normal person, just like her, it seemed, except... something was strange. He wasn't casting a shadow.

"R-Roark?" she gasped, her green eyes widening at the sight. She almost couldn't believe her own eyes, yet there he was, kneeling before her. Her grip tightened around the plastic flashlight as she realized she hadn't answered his final question.

"I... I don't know you, really..." she admitted, mesmerized by the person she saw before her. "I'd only heard a story from an old miner, and I came down here to investigate for myself..."

Y’know, if you’re lookin’ for a job to get ya started ‘round here, I might convince my parents to let ya work on the farm!

Suddenly, her face beamed. The intoxicated feeling fled from her blood, as she listened to the young girl continue.

Why don’t ya come over for breakfast in the mornin’ to meet ‘em? I’ll let ‘em know you’re comin’, they won’t mind.

"Gosh you really are an angel! Absolutely, yes!” she replied, almost instantly. Hearing the young girl’s offer made her heart jump. Clair was a hard worker, not that she had the opportunity to do legit business before now. But the change within her was stronger than the loneliness that was there before.

"I sure will!" She smiled back down at the girl, who was waving and going in the direction of her home. "See you in the morning, Gracey! G’nite! And thanks for everything!"

She entered the dilapidated, old inn, run by an elderly couple who couldn’t afford to make renovations. Checking in at the service desk and paying with what she had, Clair was led up an ill-lit staircase to her room. 

The cowgirl grinned as Clair called her an angel, not quite expecting that kind of gratitude from the older girl, although she was sure that finding a job opportunity so shortly after arriving must have been a huge relief to the outsider.

"Alright, see ya in the mornin', Clair!" she called, giving one final wave before turning away. She had spent a bit more time with Clair than she should have, but she was sure that she would be able to get all her chores finished in time if she hustled. Besides, Gracey was the quickest cowgirl in town! She started into a jog, her boots kicking up dust as she quickly made her way back to her family's farm.

~

The next morning, Gracey's mother prepared a hearty breakfast of fruit, eggs with biscuits and gravy, of course served with a pitcher full of fresh moomoo milk. Clair had arrived, just as planned, and met her parents. Her father hadn't been particularly pleased with Gracey's rather lengthy recess in town, but the cowgirl had worked her practiced daddy's-girl-charm on him and convinced him to hire her friend, at least until she got onto her feet.

"So, Clair, do ya know anythin' about ridin' a Rapidash?" the blonde asked conversationally as she led her new friend up to the private stable behind her parents' cabin. She unlatched the large doors and slid them open, revealing a rather large barn. On one side there was a tall stack of large hay bales, and on the other side was where the Rapidash were kept. "If ya don't, you're gonna learn today!"

She walked up to one of the Rapidash, motioning with her hand for Clair to follow. Placing her hand flat on the creature's wide muzzle, she turned to the blue-haired woman with a grin.

Kellen had been staring out into the waves, truly feeling at peace with the ocean. However, Gracey’s statement made him grit his teeth and blush a deep red, snapping him back into reality. Planting a hand firmly on Wailmer and frowning, Kellen faced Gracey with an eyebrow raised.

"Look here, cowgirl. I go pushin’ ya into the blue, I plop ya on this Wailmer, and you still can’t tell that I’m not a good guy? Look…” Kneading his forehead, Kellen produced his Team Aqua bandanna from his pants pocket, brandishing it at Gracey. ”… I’m even a member of Team Aqua, for cryin’ out loud! We want to flood the world someday, you know!” In his fit of passionate speech, Kellen leaned closer to the blonde, a pulsing vein pumping out of his forehead. Noticing their proximity, the sailor quickly dropped his head.

"Listen… decent fellas have to follow all these rules to keep bein’ decent. Kellen doesn’t do well with laws or rules, he wants to blaze his own trail. I’m not one of them heroes or good guys, got it? An’ if ya don’t believe me after all I’ve put ya through, ask the landlegs on the shoreline. No wonder I come out here to get some peace an’ quiet."

She seemed oblivious to how close their faces were before the sailor quickly moved away, asking her a question she wasn't sure how to answer. She hadn't really thought of why she had decided to accept Kellen's offer to teach her to sail. The truth was that she had a very forgiving and accepting nature, and she hadn't thought much of it.

"Well," she started, turning away from him nervously, looking out toward the rocky shoreline. "No one's all good, or all bad. Even the worst folks have a bit of good in 'em, somewhere deep down." she sighed, absently twirling her damp hair between her fingers. "Sure, it might be naive, but... I wanna believe that everyone can be good."

She looked up suddenly, leaning in toward the brawny sailor with a frown. Their faces were inches apart as she spoke again.

"And I didn't trick ya!" she blurted, crossing her arms. "If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to pay me back for helpin' you out--and I would'a turned ya down if I'd known you'd throw me back into the ocean!"

"Rowdy place, you got here. I kinda like it." She turned to Gracey, giving an appreciative smile, before looking back over the sea of people. It was a celebration for everyone, those who’d made it this far. Who knew to what extent, but for now, the night was young.

As John came back with her drink, in all of its tangy goodness, Clair reached over to an ashtray, where a short was resting. She fished for a box of matches in her pants and lit the sucker, before exhaling (away from Gracey) and saying, in a comfortable tone, “I hope you don’t mind, it might be a while. ❤”

Over the course of the next hour, Clair had downed three or four drinks, laughing loudly to the jokes being tossed around at the bar, dancing in her chair to the music on the piano. The atmosphere welcomed her in, and she almost got a sense of belonging. Giving another wink to John, she closed her tab. The woman then checked over on Gracey, who had been so incredibly hospitable all night, and motioned for them both to make an exit.

Waving to new acquaintances and the Sidewinder in general, Clair stumbled out of the saloon before catching her balance on the front porch. ”That was awesome!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and giving a little, drunken twirl. She looked out at the vast expanse of stars blanketing the western skies.

Cheerfully, she turned back to her new blonde friend, who had been a saint for putting up with her for this long. “Thanks for showing me around, I..I really like it here!” Her fears of coming off vulnerable were long gone.

Then, they exchanged a smile, and not just any smile, but a smile that stuck; not like those given in passing, or when one feels obligated to give one out of respect: this one was heartfelt. It was the strangest feeling she’d ever felt. Clair couldn’t think about shelter, or food, or even her past at this point.

Although she typically shied away from the saloon, she quite enjoyed her time there, mostly due to the company of her new blue-haired acquaintance. She followed as Clair stumbled out of the bar, watching the wobbly woman to make sure she didn't fall over.

The two parted ways in front of the hotel, where Clair ascended up the stairs, mouthing a silent 'thank you' before turning to enter the building. Gracey turned, as well, preparing to make the short walk back to her family's ranch. A sudden sadness made her stop, though. She barely knew Clair, but the part of her that longed for a friend that she could relate to made her want to ensure the newcomer's future in Driftveil.

"Wait!" she called, turning around quickly, catching the drunken woman just before she disappeared into the wooden building.

"Y'know, if you're lookin' for a job to get ya started 'round here," Gracey started, her green eyes glinting in the hot sun. "I might convince my parents to let ya work on the farm!"

She paused, wondering if Clair would take her up on her offer. She didn't want to come of as creepy, after all, but as far as she knew Clair had no other connections in the budding town.

And like an animal, he wants to kill the person who did this to him. He won’t have any peace until that person shows himself to his face and accepts his fate.

He was never a violent person before, but people change. Being trapped below the earth and never seeing the sunlight… it can… do things to you.

He takes his circuit around the mine in the dead of night. It’s the same one he’s taken for years, the one he can’t escape. As expected, no one’s there. He can’t even feel the presence of a wild Pokemon around him.

The Pokemon don’t seem to like him anymore. Whenever he’s around, they flee. Why, one time a miner even came down with his beloved Rampardos and the creature just panicked around him and ran back up to the surface.

Broke his damn heart, it did.

As he walks down another stone corridor, he sees something interesting.

Light.

But as soon as he sees it he hears a sound of glass shattering and it flickers out into oppressive darkness again.

It’s good enough for him.

Roark finds it’s very easy for him to move nowadays, like he doesn’t have a body. He feels no hunger, needs no sleep or drink… everything is strange.

But here he is.

That person.

The one who strangled him from behind, clubbed him with a cast iron shovel, hacked him open with a pickaxe, threw him into the water where he almost drowned and succumbed to hypothermia—

He broke his back on the fall, and his arm, and both his legs, and his frail neck. Being in so much pain and almost dying… it does things to you.

They say the perpetrator always comes back to the scene of the crime.

Now is the time for his revenge.

He lunges forward and wraps his icy fingers around the intruder’s neck, eyes narrow, intent to kill. But suddenly, he stops.

Even though he can’t see the person in front of him, he knows this is the wrong person.

"No... You’re not the one I want. Get out. Get out now."

Gracey froze. Her fingers trembled as her eyes swept the area in front of her uselessly. She could see nothing but blackness in front of her.

"W-Who's there?" she stammered, slowly beginning to back away. The heel of her boot caught onto a protruding rock and she found herself falling, once again. Falling hard on her behind, she clutched her knapsack tightly to her chest in an effort to comfort herself. Her entire body trembled from a combination of cold and fear.