Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” a voice screamed in the mind of the sleeping Templar Sheriden.

The non-binary person jolted awake from their nightmare. It was the same as before, the same as always. Orre. 2011. The mission. The boy. They knew exactly how it would play out, exactly how their life would be ruined. And yet…they couldn’t stop it.

It was 2014 now, a sweltering, humid beginning of summer in the midst of Littleroot, Hoenn, and it was time for work. Templar yawned and got up into the shower in their three-room hovel, washing their long dark brown hair and their body. They put their hair into a set of pigtails and got dressed in a recently washed lab coat, a white, knee-length pleated skirt, white leggings, a pair of worn tennis shoes, and a green bandana across the top of their head. Not exactly the fanciest clothes, but it was all they could afford after the incident…

Another yawn. They felt so tired, but they didn’t want to sleep. Nightmares plagued their sleeping lives; they didn’t want the nightmares to plague their waking lives, too.

They shook their head. Thinking about such things would only detract from their work as a Pokemon doctor. They had two patients to see today, and they needed their mind cleared for them.

They walked to the laboratory that housed Professor Birch and his son, Brendan. It was a fanciful lab that did the latest experiments, had state of the art technology, and yet also served a dual purpose: it was where all of the sick and injured Pokemon stayed until they got better…or didn’t. Templar was under no illusions; the two patients they saw weren’t going to get better. They would have adapt to their disabilities.

Like Rusty. Rusty the Treecko, who knocked at the window with a single paw.

“Yo, open up, Templar,” he called, his sightless eyes swerving in their direction behind his sunglasses.

Yeah, about that. Rusty was completely blind, and not at all born that way; he had been on the wrong end of a Zigzagoon’s claws. How he knew it was Templar that was arriving, they had no idea, but it was worth mentioning on the chart. Maybe he was finally starting to use his other senses, maybe do things differently this time.

However, Templar knew what the Treecko really wanted: his past glory as a battler. He was one of Birch’s best young Pokemon fighters before the Zigzagoon incident, and they knew that it was the one thing they couldn’t give him. While nobody could question his heart, they had every right to question his eyes.

Surprisingly enough, their other patient, Valentyna the Mudkip was also at the window with Rusty. Normally, the two were never together; they heavily disliked - if not outright hated - each other, and would refuse to be in the same area together. For them to be in the same area and not fight each other…it must’ve been really important.

Templar opened the lab door, and Rusty quickly ran to their location, knocking himself down as he ran into the wall. Thankfully, he appeared none worse for the wear and jumped into their arms. Valentyna appeared later, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, Templar!” Rusty squeaked cheerfully.

Valentyna gave Templar a wave with one of her quadrupedal paws and said, “Hello, Templar. Rusty and I had a proposition.”

Templar sighed and deposited Rusty on the ground, before making sure to face the Mudkip. Valentyna was very much hearing-impaired, if not outright deaf, but she could read lips, and the clinician knew the gist of sign language.

“What kind of deal are you two trying to make?” they asked in a suspicious tone, making sure to sign for Valentyna.

“We know your financial status,” Rusty said calmly.

Templar frowned. “That’s not yours to look at!” they snapped, causing Valentyna to look down and Rusty to timidly take a breath.

“It’s just…we want to help you, Templar,” Rusty said, choosing his words carefully. “You’re the only person here who actually looks at us like we mean something.”

“You treat us well,” Valentyna finished. “We wanted to do everything in our power to help you as you’ve helped us.”

“If this is leading up to battling, my final answer is a big fat fucking ‘NO’,” Templar spat. “To both of you! Rayquaza Almighty, I swear to fucking gods, you’re getting on my last nerves with this! I will not be responsible for your deaths!”

“And we want to live our lives,” the Mudkip said. “You are quickly running out of money; we know this. You barely have enough to pay your bills, nor enough to afford basic necessities. Don’t think we didn’t notice you getting food from Brendan every time you worked with us; you probably don’t recall the last time you had three good meals in a day.”

Templar remained silent, stony, almost. Secretly, they knew that the two Pokemon were right. Their funds had all but run out, and they still couldn’t pay at least three million of the 3.5 million fine and lawsuit. They did remember when they last had three good meals a day: in the Hoennese Marine Corps as a medic, but that was years ago, where Brendan had also served. Now Brendan worked for Birch, and he got them the job at the clinic, got them the hovel they lived in, and dropped off food as much as he could.

But it wasn’t enough, and they knew it.

Templar sighed. “I can’t do it,” they said flatly. “Professor Birch would murder me.”

“You don’t have to ask; I cleared it with him.”

Templar jumped, blushing at the new voice, the familiar voice of Brendan, who wore a lab coat, sneakers, and jeans, a white beanie over his light brown hair.

“If you can beat me in a battle with Rusty, I’ll give you a Pokedex and pokeballs,” Brendan said, his gray eyes gleaming.

“Why do I need pokeballs?” Templar asked in confusion.

“Because I want you to help other Pokemon like you helped Rusty and Valentyna,” the young man said simply. “We’re doing a roving clinic, but Dad’s needed in Littleroot doing field work, and I’m busy with fieldwork of my own. I trust you, Templar, to expand your very own clinic. It’ll make all of us money, you’ll get to help other Pokemon, and Rusty and Valentyna can test their skills against trainers.”

“Not just trainers: gym leaders,” Valentyna said excitedly, as she read Brendan’s lips.

Templar froze, their eyes as wide as full moons. Gym leaders. Norman. Their asshole of a father. Their asshole of a father who kicked them out at age sixteen when their teacher outed them to him.

“Templar?”

No. They couldn’t face him, they just couldn’t.

“Templar?!”

No, no, no, no, no…

“TEMPLAR!”

They went back to wakefulness, completely shaken. “I can’t get the gym badges,” they mumbled.

“Why not?” Rusty asked.

Brendan shared a sympathetic glance with Templar. He had long known about Norman and what he did, long before their father had testified against them at the trial.

“That’s confidential,” Brendan said to the two Pokemon.

“Why?” Rusty asked.

“Because sometimes, it’s for the best that you don’t know everything about everyone,” Brendan explained patiently.

“Fine, let’s fucking go!” Rusty shouted impatiently, scaring the Taillow outside the lab out of their nests.

“...Maybe we should fight somewhere other than the lab?” Brendan suggested. “I know you know absorb, and you’re…well, visually-impaired, so wrecking the place wouldn’t be smart.”

“Like the outskirts of Littleroot?” the Treecko asked.

“Works for me,” Templar said with a sigh. “I have ten potions, so-”

“No, you can’t use more than three,” Brendan said. “Using more than three potions means you automatically lose. Remember the Stone clause?”

Templar sighed; they had completely forgotten about the Stone Clause. It was something that the famed Stone family developed to make sure battles didn’t turn into a slog-fest. Nobody could use more than three items in battle, and trainer battles could only have as many Pokemon used as the other trainer had. Anything else was an automatic forfeit, and the loser had to give away money.

“Got it,” they said, as they walked over to the outskirts of the town, a place filled with tall grass that contained all sorts of Pokemon, like Poochyena, Wurmple…and Zigzagoon. Templar had no idea how Rusty would react, but he seemed far more excited than fearful.

“Ready, Templar, Rusty?” Brendan said. Both nodded. “All right, c’mon out, Heather Feather!”

An orange feathered chicken-like mon with three feathers on its head - a Torchic - popped out with a happy chirp, while Templar’s confusion at the nickname must have been evident, for Brendan said shyly, “I’m not good with nicknames, okay?”

“What’re we doing today, boss?” the Torchic twittered, oblivious to his - Templar had no idea why Brendan had named a male Torchic that, but it wasn’t like they were in charge of it - flustered trainer’s tone. “Are we kicking Templar’s ass this time? I’m down for that!”

“We’re fighting against Rusty this time. Don’t hold back because he’s blind; Templar needs to learn how to battle with him and Valentyna. Now go!”

“All right, Rusty, what attacks do you have?” Templar asked nervously.

“Pound, leer, and absorb. Don’t you dare have me use absorb on a fire type.”

“All right. Pound him, I guess?”

Rusty missed with the first one. “Dammit!” the Treecko spat as Heather Feather scratched him hard. “OW, RAYQUAZADAMMIT, THAT HURT!”

“Bossman told me not to hold back,” the Torchic clucked simply. “Can’t disobey the bossman!”

“Rusty, focus on what you hear,” Templar encouraged, spraying a potion on Rusty in the process. “Focus on HF’s heart, focus on the steps he takes. Focus, and when you think he’s near, pound him!”

Had Rusty been able to close his useless eyes to concentrate, he would’ve…but he used his trainer’s advice to his advantage. He lashed out with a fist, hitting HF in the chest before the bout devolved into a slap fight with the blind Treecko flailing around wildly, occasionally hitting HF, who cowered into a ball and took each shot like a punch-drunk boxer.

“Oh, come on, Heather Feather,” Brendan sighed, calling off the match with a white flag, a staple for trainers.

Rusty was still flailing about, and Valentyna said, “Fight’s over, dumbass!”

“Did I win?” Templar and Rusty asked simultaneously.

“Oh, yeah, you won,” Brendan said, a distant look in his eyes. “Here’s your Pokedex; that’ll identify you as a member of the Birch clinic and help you identify and catalog certain medical issues with each of your Pokemon.” He handed a large red box-like item as well as ten red-and-white spheres. “And here’s ten pokeballs to get you started.”

“Thanks, Brendan,” Templar said. “Everything you and the professor have done for me…I’ll pay it back to you, I promise.”

The odd trio left on the road, leaving Brendan and Heather Feather all alone.

“Bossman, you did hold back,” the Torchic said. “I know peck, but you never used it. Why?”

Brendan sighed. “Because Templar needed it,” he admitted. “They needed some sort of confidence boost, something to help them get on their feet. And after the trial, after the prison sentence…I couldn’t leave them behind. A true marine never leaves another marine behind. I don’t care that Templar was a disgraced marine; I couldn’t leave them.”

“Disgraced?” Heather Feather’s face was full of confusion. “How?”

“You don’t want to know, HF.” Brendan’s face was haunted, seeing something only he could see. “Some bodies are better left buried.”

Chapter Text

Templar let out a sigh as they walked down the route with Rusty and Valentyna right behind them. Both the Treecko and Mudkip were bickering like small children, despite being adolescents. Well, their mother had once said that teenagers were a lot like overgrown toddlers, and after hearing the two snipe at each other, for once in their life, they could definitely see her point of view.

“Look, I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re the shit, Val; you’re not,” Rusty snapped, making sure to face his counterpart so she could read his mouth. “I’m the star of the show, got it?”

“Star of the show?” Valentyna retorted, giving him a middle digit in front of his face. “You can’t even see! How do you think you’ll be able to fight if you can’t see in front of your big, ugly snout?”

“I don’t need to see to kick your ass, bitch!”

“Just try me, asshole!”

Templar returned them to their pokeballs with another sigh, only to have them pop back out to continue the argument, ignoring the clinician-in-training entirely. They simply returned their two Pokemon again, and this time, neither of them went out.

They let out yet another sigh. Seeing Rusty and Valentyna argue like this was a lot like…a lot like Norman, their father, arguing with them.

They froze, a flashback driving its way into their mind, taunting them, tormenting them. They felt the years slip backwards, from twenty-three, all the way back to when they were sixteen, in their parents’ living room, shuffling their feet, as they fearfully wondered what they wanted from them.

Their father came into the room alone instead of their mother, a stern look on his almost normal face. With his combed black hair, cold blue eyes so dark they were almost black, and sinewy frame, Norman could’ve passed for a man ten years younger than his thirty-six years of age.

“Marvin,” he began, using their deadname, his eyes burning into their very being, “do you know why you’re here?”

“No?” Templar’s younger self asked in confusion. “Dad, I-”

“No.” Norman’s voice hadn’t risen a bit, but the tone made it perfectly clear that this was a mere formality, that whatever punishment he decided would already be meted out - even if they were family. “I had a talk with your teacher, Mr. Huber. He told me something really interesting.”

Templar’s heart plummeted to the pit of their stomach. “What-”

“Don’t you dare talk back. No, you know perfectly well why you’re here, what he told me: you seem to think that you are something called ‘non-binary’? That you don’t have a male or female gender, which is something that every human being alive has? That you don’t consider yourself my son, is that correct?”

“Dad, please-”

“You have no right to call me that, you horrible thing. I have no child. Now get out, and don’t you pack anything; I own everything you have. Get the fuck out of my house.”

Templar shivered at the flashback ending, and they noticed a Poochyena whimpering in the grass, Rusty and Valentyna looking at it with eager grins on their faces. Rusty flung himself at the Poochyena like a berserker, hitting another Pokemon instead, followed by another, and another, causing a bunch of Zigzagoon and Wurmple to flee out of the area, screaming about the crazy gecko.

“Val, calm them down!” the Pokemon doctor shouted.

The Mudkip looked at them in confusion as the Treecko continued to attack basically the entire route.

“CALM THE WILD POKEMON THE FUCK DOWN BEFORE WE MAKE ENEMIES OF THE ENTIRE ROUTE!” Templar screeched, while signing desperately to the water salamander.

“Oh, right, I’m on it!” Valentyna yelled before calmly talking down each Pokemon Rusty had attacked - which was an absolute ton.

Rusty was about to use absorb on a Zigzagoon before Templar yelled, “That’s enough, Rusty, just stop!”

The grass-type gecko crawled over to them with his head bowed. “Did…did I screw up?” he asked quietly.

Meanwhile, the Poochyena hadn’t moved from its spot, still whimpering in an emotion that they recognized: pain.

“Just…we’ll practice somewhere else, okay?” Templar said, trying to keep their cool. “I need to catch this Poochyena, see what’s wrong with it.”

“Okay, I can do a pound, and-”

“No. Just…let me throw a pokeball.”

“Oh…” Rusty said, looking completely despondent; even Valentyna refused to make a smart remark at his expense, after seeing how down he looked.

Templar tossed a pokeball, and a few moments later, the Poochyena was theirs. A pink icon telling them that the Poochyena was a female adolescent popped onto the screen.

“Okay, time to send you out…Carmel,” they said, as the pokeball opened.

Carmel the Poochyena whimpered, refusing to open her mouth, which immediately clued Templar in to potential diagnoses; Poochyena and Mightynea tended to feel out everything by biting, and according to their Pokenav, Carmel only knew tackle and howl.

“Hey, girl, I’m going to have to have you open your mouth for just a tiny bit,” Templar cooed. “I need to see what’s wrong, okay?”

The Poochyena kept her mouth shut, whimpering with fear.

“What if she’s, like, mute?” Valentyna asked.

“It’s not muteness, that I’m sure of,” Templar said with a sigh as they brought out their limited medical equipment, including a stethoscope, a thermometer, and other necessities for any Pokemon doctor worth their degree.

They accidentally brushed against the side of Carmel’s mouth, causing the Poochyena to howl in pain and reveal what was wrong: four impacted wisdom canines growing into her secondary canines.

“Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry, baby!” the Pokemon doctor exclaimed regretfully, petting Carmel on her back. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…”

“Hurts…” Carmel whined.

“I think I can have a soft food diet for you,” they said. “If you have soft, pureed meat, would that be okay for you?”

“Yes,” the Poochyena mumbled, feeling the endorphins from being pet, leaning into her trainer’s body.

Templar only felt more guilty. They knew that they didn’t have nearly enough funds to do a surgery on Carmel’s teeth - and that wasn’t even including potential hearing aids for Valentyna in the mix - but nonetheless, they continued petting Carmel before putting her into her pokeball.

“I’m sorry.”

They turned around to see Rusty, his ruined eyes behind his sunglasses no longer able to shed tears, and yet…they knew that if he could, he’d be crying.

“I blew it. I utterly blew it…” he said, his tail between his legs - a clear sign that he was feeling serious sadness.

“No, you didn’t, Rusty,” Templar said gently. “You’ll learn how to take advantage of your senses. You’re still focusing on seeing your opponents when you have to utilize other ways.”

“Unless I hit the wrong Pokemon again,” he said bitterly.

“Hey, buck up!” Valentyna said, patting the Treecko on the back. “There’s plenty of Pokemon we can fight.”

“No, you’re not fighting, Val,” Templar said seriously.

“Why not?!” the Mudkip snapped. “Is it because I’m deaf?”

Templar signed, making sure Rusty couldn’t tell, “It’s because Rusty needs a shot of confidence; he’s really hurting right now. And I need you to help with Carmel, since she’s new. I can’t think of anyone better than you to show her and the others the ropes.”

“I…understand,” Valentyna said with a reluctant sigh. “You better keep your word, though; I wanna fight as well.”

“You’ll get your fights, Val. First, Rusty gets a crack at it, and then, once we get to Petalburg, I promise you’ll have your fights.”

“Wait, really?” the Treecko asked.

“Yeah,” Templar said reassuringly.

“Thanks! I won’t let you down this time!” he squeaked, running north…past Oldale.

“You’re going the wrong way, Rusty!” Templar cried out.

“Wait, huh?” Rusty asked before a Wingull plopped on the ground next to him. The Treecko jumped in shock, using an absorb that hit the seagull-like Pokemon, who let out a hacking cough of a cry.

“Templar, throw a ball!” Rusty shouted.

They immediately threw a pokeball at the Wingull, catching it in a trice. The icon turned a bright blue, relaying that the Wingull was a male child.

Templar was tempted to send the Wingull out to see what illness he had, but that cough…it concerned them a great deal.

Count an isolation room as one more thing I need.

“Did I do a good job, Templar?” Rusty asked cautiously.

“You did,” they said in a warm tone.

‘Thanks! Told you I could fight with the best of them!”

“We should probably go to the next route,” Templar said to Rusty.

“Damn right! Maybe Val found us a Lotad or a Wurmple?”

Valentyna did not find a Lotad, Seedot, Wurmple, or even a Surskit. They found a small white creature with a green protrusion on its head when Templar and Rusty walked over.

“Um, hello, hello, am I entering your human mind?” a voice in Templar’s head asked.

“Who’s saying…oh, a Ralts,” they said in realization, a bit annoyed at the Ralts’ unnecessary intrusion. “What’s your gender, if you have-?”

“Intersex.”

Templar’s eyebrows raised. “That’s a new one,” they said, trying to remain calm and not snap at the Ralts for reading their thoughts.

“My name’s ‘Stan’. I heard that great men had that name, and that’s what I want to be: great.”

“Fair enough. I can probably-”

“Help me with transitioning? You are a doctor, after all, are you not?”

“Please don’t read my mind again, Stan.”

“Sorry, bad habit. But yes, that would be nice. I assume you need to capture me?”

“Yes.”

Stan immediately went into a spare pokeball and when the capture was signaled (with a blue and pink icon signifying that the Ralts was a teenager), they popped out. Templar looked at the Pokemon under their care.

“I need you guys to be away from me,” they warned. “I have to check on this Wingull child, and I’m worried he’s contagious with something."

“Fair enough,” Rusty squeaked, scurrying over to Valentyna, Carmel and Stan, before vanishing from sight.

Templar opened the pokeball, revealing a bedraggled mess of a Wingull, coughing up a fit.

“Hey buddy,” they said in a kind, reassuring tone. “Does ‘Feodor’ work as a name for you?”

“Yes,” the Wingull said, his eyes scared. “I feel kinda yucky…”

“I’m going to help you feel better, okay, Feodor?”

“Okay, um…are you a guy or a girl?”

Templar froze. They tried not to glare at Feodor; he was a child who didn’t know any better. Still, the misgendering stung.

“I’m not a guy or a girl,” they said after a long pause.

“But you’re a people, not a Pokemon…” Feodor said in genuine innocence and confusion, before letting out another cough.

“Think of…hmm…how about…a Staryu? They aren’t a male or a female. I’m a human version of a Staryu, just without any cool and awesome water and psychic powers, okay?”

“Okay?” Feodor’s tone told them that he didn’t completely understand, but they could deal with it. First, they had to find out what was wrong.

“I’ll need you to open your beak very wide,” Templar said gently as they got out a thermometer, a flashlight, and a doctor’s mask and visor, preparing themself for their first solo checkup. They could do this, they knew they could!

The Wingull opened his beak wide, and Templar immediately knew the cause as they checked with the thermometer and saw the abnormally-high temperature: Chlamydiosis. An STD to a human, potentially fatal to a bird under stress, a bird who had flu-like symptoms, and a danger to all of their Pokemon, if he wasn’t in an isolation room - something they did not have.

Well, shit…

Chapter Text

Templar had returned Feodor back to his pokeball before sending out the others. Their Pokemon looked back at them with caution.

“Is everything all right?” Valentyna asked.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Templar said, trying their best to lie. After all, what the hell could they say? That Feodor was sick with a potentially fatal disease that could infect the party if they didn’t get an isolation room?

Valentyna gave them a knowing look but said nothing.

“Oh, I know you’re a fucking liar,” Stan said in their mind contemptuously. “Let me guess: you wanted us to feel better about the disease-ridden bird not giving us infections or whatnot? Or is it something else?”

“STAN, I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT!” Templar screamed furiously. “It’s beyond fucking unethical!”

“And in this case, I’m right,” the Ralts said coldly. “And when I’m right, which I always am, I think it’s unethical not to share information.”

“There’s a difference between what I can share - stuff I took an oath to keep private according to all medical morals and ethics - and what should be shared. And you’re barging into people’s minds without caring about their own personal matters. That is unethical to the extreme.”

“If you don’t like it, then screw you! It’s not like I’m going to stop when my safety is threatened by liars like you. What else are you hiding from us all, Templar? You’ve got a huge memory block on-”

“GODSDAMMIT, STAN, FUCKING RETURN!”

They held Stan’s pokeball, their hand shaking as the Ralts kicked and screamed before going in. They were tempted, beyond tempted, to step on the damned thing with Stan in it, but they had an oath to keep, even with little shits like the Ralts mucking things up.

They looked at their party. Carmel and Rusty were flinching from the noise; Valentyna was flinching from the ferocity of the vibrations. All three looked genuinely terrified of Templar.

“Don’t worry, it’s not-”

“Go away…” Carmel whined, her small tail curled as far beneath her legs as possible.

Templar sighed, realizing that they had just punted away all of the trust that their Pokemon had in them, not sure if they were going to get it back.

“Rusty, you’re fine with Pokemon batting the people on the route?” they asked.

“S-sure thing, Templar,” Rusty said with a nervous laugh.

They needn’t have worried on that part, at least; Rusty worked through a young boy by the name of Calvin (who asked them for a Pokenav number. Not that they could give it at the moment.) and the other three trainers on the route as swiftly as a hurricane would move through a warm body of water. They were quite proud of the Treecko; he had listened to the other Pokemon before striking with multiple absorbs and pounds.

“Now am I going to fight,” Valentyna asked as they crossed into Petalburg.

“On the next route,” Templar promised.

“And the gym?”

“No.”

“Any reason-”

“I said ‘no.’”

“Fine. Still, looks like he’s setting up challengers, so-”

Templar’s blood ran as cold as ice on a February night as they saw their father, and it grew colder still when they knew he saw them, as they returned all of their Pokemon.

“You.” Norman’s voice never raised, but Templar suddenly felt like a small child again, stepping on eggshells to avoid the hammer from coming down.

They looked down at their feet as they mumbled, “H-h-hello, s-s-s-”

“Stop stuttering and look me in the eye when you talk.”

It took all of Templar’s courage to attempt to look at their father, and it wasn’t enough; they immediately looked down again, trying not to flat out cry their eyes out like a newborn.

“Wearing a goddamned skirt, you embarrass me,” Norman said in a cold tone as he walked over to his child. “And I thought I told you to look me in the eye.”

Templar looked at him, stricken with terror as a wild Deerling in the sights of a hunter, seeing the gun cock, and then-

Then the flashbacks. Gunshots screaming through the air, striking Private First Class Lazard in the groin and stomach, Templar’s hands covered in blood from trying to compress the wounds, a horrible, unnaturally-high-pitched shriek from the mortally wounded man echoing in their brain, screaming for his mother as a toddler would until his last breath had ceased, dying right in Templar’s arms. A young girl, maybe eleven, close to Corporal Leu, an explosion, and both of them had disappeared in a shower of gore, the explosion, but from the girl, the girl had on a suicide vest…

“Look at me when I talk to you, Marvin!”

Templar bit their lip and barely managed to look into their father’s eyes.

“What are you doing out here, Marvin?”

“I’m…w-working. F-F-F-F…for…the B-Birch clinic.”

“Funny, I didn’t think useless things worked.”

“I…m-m-my Pokemon…they wanna f-fight you.”

Norman laughed. It was not the laugh they used in front of the cameras, the kindhearted, jovial laugh the public had grown to expect from him, far from it. This laugh was one that ripped itself out of their father’s throat unwillingly, the sheer disgust behind it enough to make Templar cower more.

“Your warped, crippled Pokemon want to challenge me?” he said. He never sneered at anyone, but Templar knew that this was as close as he came to doing so. “Hardly a challenge, I’d say. But then again, you’re using to killi-”

“Um, Mr. Plains?”

The voice was small, timid, frail, and Templar turned around as a small boy with green hair and large baby-blue eyes walked over to them.

“Well, you must be Wally Braccio.” Norman’s entire personality was turned on its heels, a switch in the back of his mind when he was suddenly smiling and jovial again. “How are your parents doing?”

“Um…th-they’re o-okay?” Wally said, his hands fidgeting nervously.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, I’m more than willing to do so.”

“I-I’m being sent to Verdanturf. B-boarding school. I th-thought I’d be l-l-lonely by myself, so I…wanted to catch a Pokemon companion. But…I’ve never done it before, and…I don’t know how.” The boy was trembling, clearly nervous as hell.

“Well, you heard that, Marvin?” Norman said, his glare boring into Templar’s very being, even though they instinctively cowered, their eyes fixated on the ground like a child in the midst of being screamed at. “Why don’t you watch over Wally? I’ll give him a temporary Pokemon to help him catch whatever strikes his fancy. Norman handed over a pokeball that contained a Pokemon - what looked like a Zigzagoon - and a set of twenty unused pokeballs.

“Wow, you’ll…really come with me?” Wally asked Templar.

Templar was so tempted to refuse. It wasn’t like they had time. It wasn’t like they knew Wally or his parents or anything about him. Still, getting away from Norman, even for a little bit…

“I will,” they said.

“Thank you.” The boy’s eyes were filled with gratitude as they walked over to the grass.

“Your name isn’t ‘Marvin’, is it?” Templar had barely noticed that Wally had spoken, and they were almost silent out of shock.

“...No. No, it isn’t.”

“I figured not. What is it?”

The Pokemon clinician sighed. “Templar Sheriden.”

“Well, it’s good to meet you, Templar.”

You wouldn’t say that if you knew anything about me.

“Hey, Templar, what’s that Pokemon?”

Templar saw an exact copy of Stan, down to the gender, yet…maybe a little less confident and brazen than their Ralts was.

“That would be a Ralts. He should only have growl at this stage, so you might as well send out your Pokemon. That’s the key, after all: send out Pokemon, order them to weaken the wild Pokemon, and throw a pokeball.”

“Thanks for the advice, Templar,” Wally said, before sending out Norman’s Pokemon: a female Zigzagoon.

“Norman, I told you,” she began before looking at Wally. “Oh, another young trainer I’ve been lent to in order to capture a Pokemon. Let me guess: you want me to use tackle, right? And when the Pokemon in front of me is clearly weakened, you should probably throw a pokeball, right?”

“Any chance you could be a little less condescending?” Templar asked coldly.

“You wouldn’t believe how many young trainers Norman does this for who have absolutely no idea how to throw a damned pokeball, let alone fight. Nobody except Norman and his trainers are any good at battling around these parts.”

“Um, are we going to battle or…” the other Ralts began before the Zigzagoon tackled him, driving the breath from the psychic Pokemon.

“You’ve got this, Wally,” Templar said in an encouraging tone.

Wally nodded, throwing the pokeball at the Ralts. Three shakes later…

“It’s…my own Pokemon,” Wally said in disbelief. “My…Ralts. Thank you, Templar.”

They nodded in response. “We better…go back.”

“Yeah…I’ll go back to my…folks. And you don’t have to go back to your father. He doesn’t deserve you if he’s going to deadname you like that.”

It then dawned on Templar that Wally somehow knew because…

“I understand,” they said. “I’ll visit you when I get to Verdanturf, I promise.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

The two started to walk back in silence, and it was then that Templar saw…

“Brendan?” they asked.

The younger Birch grinned as he finished treating an injured Lotad.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” he said in a happy tone, as the Lotad paddled away. “How’s the clinic coming along?”

“Carmel the Poochyena has four impacted wisdom teeth, and Stan the Ralts is intersex and wants to transition to a more masculine body. Feodor the Wingull’s not out because he’s ill with chlamydiosis.”

Brendan’s eyebrows raised. “Impressive. I assume you’re helping this kid catch a Pokemon?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, you two are doctors?” Wally asked.

“Pokemon clinicians, to be more precise,” Brendan said warmly.

“Cool!” Wally’s eyes were all but sparkling like dew in sunlight. Maybe not particularly natural, but Templar wasn’t about to complain. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a trainer, and…well, doctors are awesome people, and Pokemon do need doctors, after all. So, Templar, are you going to become, like, say, a nurse at a Pokemon center?”

Templar’s heart sank. Wally was a good kid in almost every way from what they saw of him…but they knew he couldn’t know the truth. One look at Brendan sadly shaking his head, and they came up with their answer.

“No.”