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The end of things. A pokemon fanfic by Rocko

DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 3: When the Storm came...

I continued to weave the truck up the gravel road, avoiding the washouts in the track, and keeping as much distance to the drop off to the left. Not a place where you'd want to meet someone coming in the other direction, certainly. Not that it was likely. There is nothing up here but trees, rocks and pokemon.

No further information had been sent by HQ on the origin of the noise heard earlier in the higher reaches. It could have been anything, from something wild and big, to a natural disturbance. But poachers were always a concern, and not investigating was paramount to wholesale slaughter, if they were involved.

I'd been on the road over 2 hours already, so reached back to grab a drink from my cooler. Taking a big swig of the cool liquid washed some of the road dust from my throat, and I readjusted my sunglasses to keep the glare under control. People often assumed that the high reaches were misty and wet, and they often were. But they could be equally glorious, on the days when the sun broke through the clouds. I would live here for the view, if nothing else. It stretched on endlessly. No smog, or dirt, or other "advantages" of living in the bigger towns. Here, you were on your own, and had no one to answer to.

I remember once coming up during our training to check out a spectacular waterfall formed by snow melt, that only flowed a few weeks every year. It fell from the upper cliffs over 300 feet, crashing into an ice cold pool at its base. I'd walked to the edge of the pool standing on the sandy gravel at its edge, and could see deep into its crystal depths the carp swimming there. A good place for fishing, I thought, regretting for a moment that I'd left my rod and gear back at home. Perhaps not swimming, though, until late summer. It would have to be almost freezing in that water. I don't mind the cold, but there's a limit.

I heard soft steps coming up behind, crunching through the gravel until the tall figure stood beside me. I looked over to Storm, who looked back and grinned, before pointing to the dark shapes circling in the water depths.

"Lunch?" he asked, hopefully?

I grinned at him and shook my head. "Not today, mate. Left the gear at home"

He shook his head and started to walked off, grumbling something about other ways to catch lunch than fishing gear. I ignored his bitching, and went back to admiring the scene.

Suddenly, a paw to the back sent me flying into the lake.

I plunged into the freezing water pretty deep, before struggling to the surface, spluttering and gasping for air, and cursing him loudly while treading water.

Swimming to the water's edge, I was suddenly grabbed by the shirt collar and pulled out by a strong grip, to stand dripping and shivering on the bank. Glaring at the widely grinning typhlosion standing near me, I was about to explode, when he looked at me again and said "So what about now? Got lunch yet?"

So I did what needed to be done. I reached over and pushed the big bastard in to get it for us.

After all, revenge is a fish dish best served on an open fire, grilled to perfection. We had our lunch, and both sat, dripping and chilled, while we ate it.

It was a brilliant day, after all.

The wet fur smell stinking up the place, and muttered comments on "taking forever to dry" that dominated the conversation as we ate was only the icing on the cake.

___________________________________________________________________________

"So, you can talk, huh?"

"Yep"

"That's pretty cool"

"Yep"

"Are you going to say anything besides Yep?"

"Nope"

Smart arse. You can gather nothing had changed there from the moment we'd met each other.

We walked back through town towards my house, down the main street, with Storm frequently stopping and looking through the shop windows. He seemed inexhaustibly curious about everything he saw, almost like he'd never seen such things before.

For all I know, perhaps he hadn't. Who am I to stop him enjoying himself.

Nurse Joy had kept him in the pokemon centre for a further 5 days, until the bulk of his wounds had began healing. The stitches still needed to be removed in another 3 days, but she felt he was able to leave, provided he kept the physical exertion to a minimum. I'd visited him every day, whenever I was able, and spent at least a few hours after school with him.

At first, he was reluctant to speak with me, but with some gentle coaxing, he began to open up, responding with questions of his own.

Turns out he'd come off second best in an argument with a charizard. While the big reptile couldn't touch him easily with his flame, it didn't stop him belting the hell out of the smaller pokemon, before leaving him bleeding and battered to die in the forest.

The quilava had regained consciousness some time later, realising he was in serious trouble. In his near delirious state, he began crawling desperately and painfully through the forest, trying to find somewhere he could recover. With his strength quickly waning, he managed to find the small clearing I'd stumbled into, only to collapse onto the wet grass in exhaustion. Losing consciousness for a while, it was only my noisy, stumbling progress through the brush that woke him up and had him crawling into the bushes to safety. But that was as far as he went. Collapsing completely, and in agony from his injuries, he couldn't help but cry out in pain, gaining my attention and resulting in his subsequent rescue.

"So, how'd you learn to talk?"

"Went to school, read a book, and learned my letters. How's anyone learn to talk?" he snapped back at me, glaring before dropping his eyes and turning back to the bakery window where he stood drooling at the contents of the window.

Touchy subject, there. I left that alone for the time being.

In general, when discussing himself, he was pretty reticent. He asked a lot of questions about my life, and family, my dreams, but was taciturn in providing information on himself in return.

I didn't push him too much on it. It was clear there was some pain there, and who was I to drag it up.

We're all allowed our privacy, and we all have our hidden pasts.

"So, what now?"

"Back to the forest, as soon as I can"

I stopped for a moment before gazing down, grinding my foot into the concrete beneath me. I knew what I wanted to say, but I was almost afraid of the answer I might receive.

"You don't have to go back there if you don't want to, you know"

He turned to me and looked into my face quizzically, before cocking his head and muttering a reply under his breath.

"Why? Do you know an alternative?"

I stared down at him for an instant, wanting to ask him the obvious. He could stay with me, if he wanted. I wanted him to. I needed him to. I needed a friend pretty badly, and he was the friend I needed.

So, I gathered up my courage and blurted out the first thing that sprang to mind...

"Do you want a donut? They're really good here!"

He looked back at the window, then back at me, went to say something, stopped, raised his eyebrows again, and replied "Umm, sure. Yeah, I'd like that a lot"

So, we bought donuts, which were really as good as I said, and walked the rest of the way to my place, where he stayed with us and, over time, became a member of my family.

Nothing more needed to be said.

Continued in Chapter 4: Decisions made.