Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pikachu thought Tim was oblivious. Painfully, horribly, oblivious.

It was obvious he wasn’t doing so well - Pikachu could tell just by looking at the kid. The posture, the attitude, just the way he held himself now; it had all changed. Changed into something horribly sad, something a bit too insecure and uncomfortable. It looked like Tim was having trouble living in his own body (which was ironic, considering many things).

After Tim’s release from the hospital, the boy’s partner made sure to listen to Lucy’s talk to the doctor, and apparently, this was all supposed to be expected. As much as Pikachu hated it, there were going to be issues, and the fact that they were starting to crop up now was absolutely terrifying. Shit, he’d never dealt with having an entire kid to support before, much less serious emotions. Maybe joking about these ones, in particular, wasn’t in his best interest. Nonetheless, Pikachu could feel something coming closer. Something.. wrong. So, so wrong.

-

Tim was in pain. So much pain. He didn’t know what caused it, but sometimes, laying in bed late at night had its perks. Like staying up for hours and thinking about things that he could have said or done while his Dad was still around. Speaking of staying up late, he’d been doing that a lot lately; more than usual. At first, he just chalked it up to just being him going to bed too early - so he started going to bed at ten instead of nine. And then ten turned to eleven, which turned to 12, which turned to two, which… well, it kind of just went on until many nights went by without Tim getting a wink of sleep - and if he did, it was uncomfortable, leaving him tossing and turning for hours without showing any signs of stopping. So, he began to think about his most important memories from the past few months as he tried to sleep - mostly about the science facility and his “adventures” into that area. But sometimes he’d think farther back; to a time before the Parade, to a time when he was blissfully ignorant and never noticed how truly miserable life was about to be. Like… just before he got the call about his Dad. When he went Pokemon catching for the first time in 10 years.

It only hurt a little to not be able to bond with Pokemon like he used to. Just a little. That’s what he kept telling himself, at least. Well, what did he really expect? You don’t do something for a while, you lose your spark. Maybe it was the Pokemon. But was it really? Maybe it was him. Jack’s words just kept echoing in his mind.. “The perfect Pokemon.” What does that even mean? Perfect? For Tim? Nah, not even in the slightest. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, it was just one Pokemon.

But if it wasn’t a big deal, why did it crush his spirit as much as it did?

That’s all he can think about tonight. He can hear the sounds of the city through his open window, the cold breeze making him shiver as he blinks to adjust his contacts to the dim lighting. The moonlight spills onto the hand he’s holding up in front of his face, dark skin bruised from that day in the tall grasses. Or… was it from something else? They were faded enough to be from that day, that’s for sure - so that’s what he goes with. Damn, it wasn’t supposed to hurt this much, but even the smaller Pokemon can be stronger than they look. He wasn’t careful enough, and look where it got him. Another injury to add to the collection from that week. He practically looked like a painting canvas at this point. Except… the pain felt like it burned every time he would see his body in the mirror. He just wanted to scratch at his skin until the marks went away and stopped reminding him of what happened that day.

But yet, Tim kept thinking as he observed his own bruises, thinking about this small situation and how to led to this big ordeal. And he kept repeating to himself: there was no particular reason for the Cubone to not want to be caught, just that maybe he didn’t weaken it with a Pokémon of his own first. Or because this particular Pokemon could just tell that Tim would be a no-good, lousy trainer.

He stops himself before he gets carried away in his thoughts. He tries to forget but as he closes his eyes at another fruitless attempt at sleep, he quickly remembers. Remembers… something.

The scene at the tower. Cold air rushing around him. His fingers, dragging through the broken glass of the window, sticky with blood and grabbing out for something to latch onto. He yelps in pain and hisses as the glass buries itself deeper into the palms of his hands and the pads of his fingers. And slowly, a small, brown, beady-eyed Pokémon that’s just a bit too familiar looks out over the window down at him.

The Cubone lets out a small squeaking noise and one by one, the small Cubone above him brings its weapon down on each of his fingers, and Tim is hopeless, and soon he’s just barely holding on by one hand, until,

He jerks back into reality.

His heart still pounds with adrenaline and his whole body shakes as he stands up.

Tim, perhaps too quickly, decides to head out to the kitchen to get water. He shuffles his feet along the hardwood floor of his Dad’s old apartment to the kitchen, where there’s a dim light and perhaps too many empty coffee cups on the counter. Pikachu is sitting on the counter, poring over notes, and the Pokemon’s ears perk up as Tim enters the room. He sees his expression fall, however, upon getting a better look at the kid.

There’s a tight, emotionally charged tension between them. As Tim quietly shuffled to the fridge and gets his water, he hears Pikachu put down his pen and shuffle his papers to the side in hopes of a conversation.

“You all good, kid? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Tim closes the fridge and smiles halfheartedly at the Pokemon, looking down at the floor and huffing at the weak attempt at humor. “Yeah, yeah, I’m all good. I’m all good.” He repeats himself, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of this and not the other.

Tim then simply gives Pikachu a single nod and heads back off with his water to bed.

-

And that’s the exact moment when Pikachu started to worry.

Chapter Text

Of course he noticed. It was impossible not to notice that something was wrong with the poor kid. Lucy was asking about him. Lieutenant Yoshida was asking about him. Even some other Pokemon were asking about him.

And yeah.

It really %#!%ing sucked.

Sometimes days would go by without a word from Tim. He’d hole himself up in his room and would only come out for food and water; sometimes Pikachu could hear him crying at night, abruptly, after what he assumed was a nightmare.

Humans weren’t made for the kind of combat that Pokemon were. And since Tim had been attacked by many Pokemon on the day of the Parade, when they’d go out in public Tim would glance around nervously at every Pokemon they’d pass by (though he tried to make it discreet). Sudden noises would send him into a panic, though Pikachu hadn’t personally seen Tim past anything beyond being shaky and hyperventilating. Every time, Tim would walk away and come back red-eyed, tired, and very out-of-sorts.

After the Parade (they’d decided to start calling that day the Parade, to make sure they didn’t directly address it. Also, Pikachu thought it sounded badass), he had decided to stay in the city with Pikachu and finish the work his father had started. Because, even though Harry was technically Pikachu, he was gone. His memories and body were both wiped, now all that was left was his soul fused with Pikachu. There wasn’t much else to it. The kid had good reason to be upset, and Pikachu was just a constant reminder that Tim’s parents were both dead.

So, yeah. Pikachu was definitely worried for Tim.

Probably should have been obvious by now.

Every morning they had had a routine. They didn’t need to tell each other, but they always knew what it was subconsciously. Go out in the morning, get coffee, work on the case they were assigned, and then go home and have dinner. It was repetitive, but repetition was something Tim seemed to cling to for dear life after the Parade. Sometimes they’d do something different, of course, to ease Tim out of his shell slowly, but after that, Tim would need days, sometimes weeks, to recover from the new things that came from the change in schedule.

Today, Pikachu had made sure they got the whole day off so he and Tim could have some time to just talk about what he was going through. After a small trip to a special place.

They were out for coffee at their favorite coffee place. Jigglypuff, seemingly never offstage, was singing in the background, and there was a Kadabra behind the counter on shift with the regular bartender. Just their perfect, normal routine.

Pikachu looked up from his empty glass of coffee and turned on his barstool, looking to the left. Tim sits to his left on a barstool, looking down at his coffee. Spaced out, unmoving, tuned out, whatever you wanna call it. He wasn’t all there. Which only increased his own concern about his partner’s well-being. If the night before was concerning, well, this was just making it worse. To put it very lightly.

“Hey, kid, you wanna go to the Flea Market after this?” He didn’t mean to speak so suddenly. Whatever. At least his voice was gentle as to not startle Tim. The boy sitting next to him looked up from his coffee cup with a confused expression on his face.

“Flea Market? Don’t we have work to do?”

“Nah. Figured we’d take the day off. You can call in, right? I’m kinda…” The yellow Pokémon motioned to his own body and chuckled, but his face fell when he saw a look of hurt on Tim’s face.

”Right. Sorry, that was uh, insensitive of me…”

Pikachu shifted around his seat in discomfort and felt his ear twitch a couple of times. Yeah, the whole dad-dying thing wasn’t the greatest thing in the world. Could probably live without that. But something didn’t sit right. Tim’s sleeping habits lately have been absolutely atrocious. Okay, okay, yeah, that was hypocritical considering he himself hadn’t slept well in weeks. But that was beside the point. Pikachu had noticed how the kid’s eyes had grown noticeably darker with each sleepless night that passed by. He had also noticed the messy hair, mismatched socks, jagged nails, and unbrushed teeth. Oh, and also the fact that Tim had worn the same jacket now for months, and he wasn’t even the one that did the laundry anymore.

Nail biting, insomnia, carelessness, and extreme levels of apathy! Awesome.

...God, he sounded like a dad when he said all that together. Maybe Harry wasn’t totally gone after all. Haha.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Tim mumbling a response.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

Giddiness filled Pikachu’s tiny heart as he jumped out of his seat and hopped up on Tim’s shoulder eagerly. The 21-year-old stood up from his red barstool, tossing some cash on the counter for the barista and sluggishly pulling on his backpack. Pikachu sits on his shoulder in silence, patiently waiting for his partner to get ready. It takes about five minutes to gather everything, with Tim’s body moving very slowly, like Tim’s mind was already working overtime on something else, and this was just a background to whatever-the-hell was happening up in that brilliant mind of his.

The two detectives hop in their car and begin the trip to the Flea Market. The city flew past as the rolled on down the highway, buildings blurring into block of colors whizzing behind. Even simple things like that put Tim in distress, Pikachu had figured out. Tim missed his hometown a lot recently, staring out subway windows longingly at the rolling fields they would pass. Especially since the Parade, he had also seemed hesitant to set foot anywhere close to central Ryme City.

The Flea Market seemed perfect for a small trip. At least, Pikachu hoped it would be.

___________

Pikachu beamed with joy as they got out of their car, and began walking from the parking lot to the Market. His red cheeks crackled happily with electricity as he crawled up Tim’s back, his small fuzzy body draping itself his shoulders and burying his nose into his neck. He let out a small sigh of comfort as they made their way around the farmer’s market. The sun was still rising, and the concrete looked orange from the glow. Not a cloud in the sky as the crisp air bit the tips of Pikachu’s ears. This was very refreshing weather. He hoped that Tim felt the same way.

They stopped at the item booths first. Once in a while Pikachu would perk his head up at a small trinket, to which Tim would notice and make an offhand comment to Pikachu about space in the apartment, mostly along the lines of,”If you buy this we’ll have to clear out a path like they do in Hoarders,” and other witty one-liners. It was nice, finally seeing Tim come out of his shell. It may have been due to the kid missing his hometown that he’d opened up at the market in particular.

Pikachu felt his eyelids droop. It had been at least two hours since his last coffee and a small crash was beginning to settle in. Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed up all night. He grabs a dollar bill from Tim’s wallet and jumps down to the ground.

“Hey, would you be good here for a minute while I go get a coffee from that booth over there?”

Tim shrugs,”Whatever, man, go do your thing, I’m all good.”

Pikachu gives him a nod and hops away to the booth. He hands the crumpled-up dollar bill to the Kadabra behind the counter, who grunts and turns to make the coffee. The entire area had the scent of coffee wafting throughout, which was just what Pikachu needed to perk up his day. The constant issues Tim was having exhausted him, but this was his son (???) he was talking about. He’d give up so much more than just this for the kid in a heartbeat. There was something good on it’s way for them, he just knew it.

He grabbed his coffee, nodding a small thank you to the Kadabra, and waddled off to find Tim when he heard something interesting. The whoosh of flames around the corner, then a yelp of surprise. In curiosity (and also slight worry), Pikachu rounded the corner of the booths and almost choked on his coffee. Tim was standing next to a booth, standing up very rigid, his arms folded around his torso. A Charizard sat behind the booth, smoke still twisting out of its mouth.

“Oh, jesus christ.” Pikachu breathed

Pikachu trotted up to Tim and tugged on his pant leg, but Tim was rigid, staring nowhere in particular, his eyes glazed over. Dammit, he’d probably started panicking again. He hopped up on Tim’s shoulders and stroked the kid’s hair, leaning close to his ear.

“Hey, kid, I know you may not hear me, but we should go to the car, okay?”

Tim, surprisingly, nodded, and started walking in the direction of the car. Thank god. Pikachu hopped off Tim’s shoulder and onto the counter with the Charizard.

“It’s not your fault, don’t feel bad, alright?”

“Thank you. I hope your partner is okay.”

“Me too. Me too.”

___________

It had been a good hour since the event with the charizard. Tim was just sitting, doing nothing, in the driver’s seat of the car, staring forward through the windshield. Pikachu sat in the passenger seat, staring up at him in worry. They’d left the house at 10:00. Now it was 2:00. Yikes.

Pikachu had many questions. A lot of which would be considered insensitive and extremely inappropriate for the situation they were currently in. He could say a lot of things. Should he even say anything? He wasn’t sure. The one thing he was sure of was that he’s wanted to help Tim, but now, in the moment, he was absolutely terrified that he would mess up or make things worse. So he settled on an apology instead.

“Tim. Listen.. uh.. I’m sorry for bringing you here. I really..” He sighs,”I, ahh.. shouldn’t have left you alone like that.”

Silence, then.

There were a lot of times where people use the phrase ‘burst into tears.’ Pikachu never really understood that phrase. But when he blinked and Tim was shaking with tears, he suddenly understood. Tim’s hands were balled into fists, pressing into his eyes and wiping them with so much pressure that, sooner than expected, his eyes were puffy and red. He kept sniffling and shakily inhaling in between sobs. Pikachu felt a pang of guilt. He hopped onto Tim’s lap, the other immediately wrapping his arms around him and lifting him up to his chest, against his neck. Pikachu sat there in the embrace as his partner shook.

He didn’t know how much time passed before he finally calmed down. He didn’t honestly care. All that he was worried about right now was Tim.

“I’m sorry, kid.” He mumbled.

“Not your fault. I got scared, not a big deal.” Tim sniffled. Pikachu leaned back against the steering wheel.

“You’re crying. You dissociated earlier. There’s something wrong, Tim. Is it because of the Parade, or..”

“The Charizard... It just reminded me of everything that happened… I dunno…”

Pikachu made eye contact with Tim, this kid who saved his life, this kid who practically saved all of Ryme City, and felt something between pride and disappointment. Not disappointment in Tim. Of course not. He felt disappointment in himself, in Tim’s friends, in this city, for not seeing that the person who’d saved them all was hurting as much as he was. But also pride, that despite this, despite everything, Tim was still here and alive and willing to let Pikachu see him like this even if he didn’t want to.

“Tim…”

“Dad. There’s something wrong with me.” A tear ran down Tim’s cheek. The yellow Pokemon reached up and wiped it away.

“I know, kid. I know. You’ll be okay. Maybe not now, but one day. I promise.”

He had to get this kid some help.

Chapter Text

Weirdly enough, Tim wasn’t too mortified that Pikachu had seen him breakdown. As a matter of fact, he was half relieved that he was finally being helped by someone. It really wasn’t his favorite thing to be alone with his thoughts, constantly brooding in his room into the wee hours of the morning. It was, however, his favorite to finally have someone to help him. Pikachu had taken to sleeping in his bed like anyone’s Pokemon partner would. Sometimes Tim would wake up and find that he had taken the other and held him like a teddy bear during his sleep. And he couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy it, because he really did; he had definitely been sleeping better because of it as well. Things were definitely looking up for him.

Pikachu also seemed to be doing better. He’d moved on from giving Tim sad looks and wordless support, and trying to be a partner and a parent at the same time (because honestly, Tim himself was trying to figure out their relationship too), to actually helping Tim treat his mental health. And Tim could not be any more grateful. By keeping it real, being honest, pushing him to leave the house, and motivating him to accomplish everyday tasks, Tim’s healing process had begun.

It was nowhere near perfect - sometimes Tim still couldn’t sleep or leave the house when he had to - but any progress helped Tim feel like he was still human. At least he could walk around the house and not suffer in his room, alone. At least he could eat some vegetables and fruits, and keep them down and not get sick at the thought of the Parade.

At least he was making some progress, and that was all he needed to keep himself going. And it seemed to motivate Pikachu as well.

A few months after the Flea Market, they had woken up and gotten coffee like usual. The two sat at a booth this time, sitting across from one another. They talked of their recent jobs and the chains of illegal Pokemon fighting rings, they talked about Lucy and her recent accomplishments in the press. All that fun stuff. Then, after their lengthy conversation, Tim look up at Pikachu and asked a question that would end up rerouting their entire day.

“Hey, whatever happened to Mewtwo? You knew him at least a bit, right? You probably know where he went.”

Pikachu shifted around in his seat uncomfortably. Tim studied his partner’s nervous eyes as he spoke,“Yeah, I know where he is. Wanted to take you to visit, but I didn’t think you’d be ready quite yet. I thought you’d need time, especially after what happened.”

“I’m ready, I think. I don’t.. uh..” Tim nods and takes a sip of coffee,”I don’t want to hide from the past anymore.”

After this, Pikachu doesn’t respond and just stares. Tim glances around nervously and starts to stutter an explanation, in a bit of a panicky tone. He was somehow incredibly good at rambling on and on about things he was interested in talking about, especially when he hadn’t talked about them in a while. He had tried to avoid that question, he really had. But his curiosity had grown far too much and he felt that, if anything, if he could see Mewtwo again without freaking out, then he could conquer any obstacle his mind would give him.

As he explains this to Pikachu, he sees the Pokemon looking at him really hard, as if trying to process what he was saying. Tim tried to avoid eye contact but fails horribly. Their eyes meet and there’s a sudden understanding of what they both are thinking.

-“Let’s take the day off.”

-“Let’s not go to work today.”

____________

According to Pikachu, Mewtwo had moved back into the Torterra forest after the Parade, where he was when he’d first revealed himself to the two. Of course, there were some uncomfortable emotions involved with returning to the area - most notably, when Pikachu almost… fainted? Died? He wasn’t sure what would have happened. All he could do was be thankful that Mewtwo was there to save his partner from, one, whatever fate was approaching him, and, two, the last piece of his father that was left.

It was funny how ironic it was that he was thankful for Mewtwo before, considering now he could hardly see a goddamn plushie of him at the supermarket and almost go into a full-blown mental breakdown.

Tim thought he was ready. But now he knew that no, he wasn’t in the best of minds to meet the genetic experiment. But he had to do this. They’d come so far, and to turn back now would probably make Pikachu upset. To make himself fine again. He just wanted to be fine again.

They hadn’t ever really seen Mewtwo since the Parade- Well, at least Tim hadn’t. Pikachu, on days where Tim would lock himself away, would leave the house for hours at a time. To give Tim some space, he was told. Now he could only assume that Pikachu would come here on those days instead, and Tim couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. Pikachu was probably hurting just as much as he was, if not more even, and he just left him to fend for himself like that. How selfish could he be?

“What’re you thinking about? You look upset.” He heard Pikachu ask from the passenger seat. They’d taken their car out to visit Mewtwo, and ever since the Parade, the old labs and Torterra forest were blocked off by Mewtwo as to not be disturbed by humans any longer. He’d only let.. a very selective group of humans in, Pikachu had told him, and he was apparently on that list. Surprisingly.

“Nothing, nothing, just a little nervous is all.”

“Well, sure, that’s understandable. Dude nearly killed you.”

Tim let out a small laugh,”Yeah, maybe I’m not as ready as I thought,” He felt his partner suddenly grow tense,”...But I need to do this anyway.”

The atmosphere relaxed a bit,”Good thinking, kid. You’re really… You’re really doing great.” He could practically feel the pride emanating from Pikachu, who stood up in his seat and reached up on his tippy-toes to see where they were.

“Oh, it’s here, it’s here!” He jumped up and down on the cushion in excitement,”I haven’t seen the big guy in months, can’t wait to see how he’s doing!”

“Big guy?” Tim snorted, unlocking the car doors and grinning,”Are you two really that close of friends?”

Pikachu rolled his eyes in response, getting out of the car and jumping onto the hood to be visible to Tim.

“Of course not. Any and all progress we made as “friends” - or whatever you wanna call our fricked-up relationship - was lost when Harry’s memory was permanently wiped. All he can do for me is tell me what I was like, and listen to me ramble on about nonsense. We aren’t really friends or even colleagues per se. He kind of just operates as a therapist to be honest.”

“Ah.” Tim nods in understanding, suddenly feeling very solemn. Either way, he holds out an arm, to which Pikachu climbs onto his shoulders from. His partner points the way with his tail to where he needs to go. His car beeps as he locks it and then saunters over to where Pikachu was pointing. It was just a wall. A very, very tall concrete wall.

“Here? Really? Hate to break it to ya, but there’s no doors, chief. So now what do I do?” Tim says sarcastically. Pikachu, once again, rolls his eyes.

“Run through it, of course. Like Henry Potter or some shit, Tim-o. You ever seen Henry Potter? Lemme explain it to you. In the first book-”

“Okay, shut up.” Tim interrupts in a joking tone. Taking a few steps back, he readied himself by propping a leg behind him and putting weight on it for the push-off. He inhaled and then darted forward, yelling at the top of his lungs every step of the way as he braced for impact. But the impact never came, and Tim opened his eyes that had been squeezed shut.

“What the hell?” He mumbled to himself.

Memories flooded back into his mind and Tim felt himself shudder. He didn’t want to look. But he did.

A long road of dirt stretched out in front of him, through the valleys between large concrete ridges jutted up from the ground, which, he could only assume, were the brims of Torterra shells. There was some space between each ridge, so Tim could tell that these were smaller than the ones they’d seen before; only about half as tall, about the size of an average two-story home. Tim had been frozen in place for about a full minute, so Pikachu nudged Tim to keep moving forward - a habit he’d taken to doing in order to reassure Tim when he began to freeze up. Pikachu took a paw and ruffled the other’s hair, something else that seemed to comfort him as well.

Tim took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to reassure himself that what he was doing was for the best. He slowly, cautiously, took a few steps forward, his eye darting around the area. He scanned each Torterra shell for any indicator of movement, trembling.

“Hey, it’ll be alright, kid. Just keep on moving, alright?” His partner says softly. Tim nods and continues walking along the path, a bit less cautiously than before. Soon, he’s walking with full confidence and soon passes the first two Torterra.

A bush, in between two ridges they were passing, shook suddenly. Out hopped the most petite baby Bulbasaur they had ever seen. They let out their ‘awws’. It let out a small squeal in reply and extended one of it’s vines. It struggled to keep the large vine steady in the air but, with effort, it gave a shaky wave over. Tim seemed to understand, since this had happened before, and, hesitantly, he took an unsure step off the dirt path into the mushy grass.

As they passed through more leaves and trees, trudging through the two shells, more Bulbasaur joined in their “parade”. Morelull flew into the air, their pink and purple mushrooms tingling with faint light as they descended into a valley between the shells. This was getting too familiar too fast.

Tim feels Pikachu look at him. He was apparently very obviously uncomfortable, because Pikachu began to look concerned.

“You good, kid?” He whispered to Tim.

“Yeah… It’s just that when I went through here last, you were dying.” He said quietly. Pikachu looked down, and their trudge continued.

____________

It had been at the very least half an hour when they reached a very familiar flat rock, surrounded by a small creek. A crowd of Morelull were huddled together on it, but upon seeing Tim and Pikachu, they dispersed, flying into the air and squeaking at the two. Tim looked at Pikachu and made a face, to which his partner shrugged.

The Pokemon that had led them there marched away, leaving the two to sit there for what seemed like hours, just waiting.

“So what do we do now?” Tim finally broke the silence.

“Well… Mewtwo usually only shows up if I have… Actual, real problems,” Tim began to interrupt, but Pikachu continued,”So typically I just sit on the rock and wait. Or put the subject of my grievance on the rock. Seems to do the trick.”

“What’re you suggesting then?” He replied in a shaky voice. He could feel his stress and anxiety increasing by the minute.

“I don’t really know…”

They sat there for a few more minutes. Then Tim stepped forward, propped his hands up on the rock, and sat himself down.

“That… works.” Pikachu responded. Tim wasn’t sure if that was sad or funny.

In mere seconds, the Pokemon they had waited for sped around the corner of the canyon. It’s eyes slightly widened in mild surprise when it saw Tim sitting on the rock.

‘Greetings, Tim. I did not expect to see you here.’

“Well, it took a lot of time but,” Tim sighs,”I had to eventually.”

‘I feel much emotional distress from you…’

“I uh…” Tim’s voice cracked,”It’s been rough lately. For sure.” The Pokemon only nodded slowly in response.

“Tim here wanted to just check up with you, I think,” Pikachu interjected,”Seeing you without breaking down is a huge milestone for him.”

‘I see this. Thank you for coming to see me with confidence; though I feel,’ Mewtwo looked Tim up and down,’that you are quite anxious at the moment.’

Tim nodded,”Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

‘You and your father have a bond now, I can tell. I am sorry I could not separate them for you. But as I said, if you do not wish to lose your father again, it is in your best interest to keep them together. Him and his Pokemon, living as one.’

Tim felt nausea rock every part of his body at the last sentence. It was too similar to something he had heard before. When was that…? The Parade? And again, like in the months before, he was back in the city. On the Skyscraper, still getting attacked by the shapeshifting Pokemon- and he heard the booming voice of Howard Clifford over the city, killing Pikachu, fusing everyone. Humans and Pokemon, living as one, literally. Everyone was depending on him and his partner but he was hanging off the side of the building, useless, powerless, worthless-

“TIM!”

The human boy looks up from his knees, which had been drawn to his chest during his short panic. Pikachu sat at his feet, his paws placed on his partner’s legs and eyes wide in panic. He felt wetness on his cheeks and realized he’d been crying. Goddammit. He didn’t need any more of an explanation than the context clues he’d picked up on.

Swinging his legs off the rock, he turns his body toward Mewtwo with his head held down.

“Excuse me.”

He’s flustered- and panicking- so he leaves, Pikachu following worriedly behind.

Chapter Text

When Tim would shut himself off for days and days on end, it struck a sensitive chord with Lucy. She really worried for her partner sometimes, but as of late, his mental health actually seemed to be improving. He even visited her office once- granted, he left soon after because of a “migraine,” (according to the expression on his Pikachu’s face, that certainly wasn’t the case.)- but it was nice to see him out and about, nonetheless. She was very aware that she wasn't the most emotionally available woman on the planet - maintaining a public persona almost 24/7 really did a number on her natural personality - but she really was trying. Up until a couple of days ago, Lucy honestly thought that Tim believed he was the only one affected, which pissed Lucy off. Was she not the one taken and held captive by those Greninja? Was she not there too when Pikachu almost… well…

But then she got a visit from Pikachu - or Harry? She wasn’t sure what to call him - and based on a note the Pokemon had written (she couldn’t understand him like Tim, sadly) he wasn’t doing as well as they thought. And she realized. It was so, so much worse than she had thought. At first, she almost blamed his dad. For not caring enough to do as much as he could. It was his JOB, after all, to look after his partner. But would he not be taking care of him to the best of his ability already? The pain in the Pokemon’s eyes was evident, so Lucy tried her best to eliminate any prejudices she may have had, as hard as it may have been.

She wasn’t entirely sure to what extent Tim was hurt by the events of the Parade. Based on what she knew, he was getting better. But now, she knew the reality of how it felt. The fear she saw in Pikachu’s eyes when Tim left her office. It felt real now. She could feel the fear not just in her own heart just looking at the guy, but in the room. The pure aura of terror pressed up against her pale skin as she approached the figure of Tim, curled up in his bed, unmoving. His cold, dark room was no place to house someone healing from such events. But as her cold, shaking hand reached out to pull the heavy blanket off Tim’s body, she flew back in shock when Tim sat up quickly, breathing quickly, and screamed at Lucy.

“Don’t touch me!” He yelped, scooting back to the corner of the wall where his bed had been situated.

“Tim, oh my god, are you okay?!” Lucy breathed. Her throat seemed to close up and no more words could escape it as she studied her boyfriend’s frightened face. There were dark circles around his wild and frantic eyes. His usually short, well-kept hair was all messy and out-of-place, showing signs that he had not washed it in a few days. His skin was shiny with natural oil that had accumulated from sweating, likely from nightmares mixed with the fact he had not consumed any of the food Pikachu had left of his desk for him. He was hungry, alone, hot, and afraid. How could she tell all this in just one look? It was practically her job. She was supposed to take note of what she saw in front of her, down to the smallest detail. And Lucy didn’t like what she saw in front of her in the slightest bit.

“Please, stay away..” Tim responded, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence as he buried his head in his hands and began to cry. Lucy stood, shocked, and sat on the edge of his bed, fully prepared to comfort him.

“Okay, Tim, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. I respect that. But I’m not going to leave you here to starve to death.” Lucy was surprised at how stable and confident her own voice sounded, despite how terrified she was for the other’s safety.

A long moment of silence passed between the two passed. Lucy studied Tim’s face more, while Tim sat with his knees to his chest, trying to control his ragged breathing. After a bit, she saw him relax his tense body and let his legs stretch out onto the rest of his bed. Lucy smiled a sad, sympathetic smile she was sure he’d seen one too many times. She watched as he rubbed his watery eyes and drew in a slow breath.

“What if,” He said, clearing his throat of the raspiness,”I hadn’t done it? What if I had stayed in my hometown, selling insurance, like I planned to do? What if,” Lucy felt the tensity build in the pause Tim took,”What if my dad never died?”

It would have been funny in any other circumstance - he almost sounded like a five year old asking about a lost toy, and it was cute, in a way - but with each word he said, Lucy could almost feel Tim’s pain growing. And there was too much.

“I don’t… That’s a heavy question, Tim…” Lucy finally managed to choke out.

“I’ve been asking myself those same things every damn day,” Tim interrupts,”Sometimes I feel sick, I can’t eat, sometimes I don’t want to breathe anymore because of what I did. What if I had stayed with my Dad when I was younger? Would he still be alive? Lucy, what if all this is my fault?” Tim’s voice was building, his volume increasing with every word,”My dad died because of me, he’s not here anymore, every day I feel like I’m forgetting more and more of what he looks like because I didn’t keep any pictures of him and - and… oh god.” Tim’s voice breaks and he’s a sobbing mess. Tears trail down his cheeks in what feels like waterfalls as he reaches out for Lucy like a child asking his mother for a hug. She takes him into her arms, her face not even beginning to communicate the sheer pain she felt for the broken man in her arms.

What felt like hours went by.

Tim’s sobs had devolved into quiet sniffles and occasional moans. His arms were wrapped around Lucy’s back, she was pressed up against him and holding on for dear life despite the uncomfortable position she had been put in. Anything for Tim. God knows he needed it.

“Tim, I can tell you one thing,” Lucy’s rare, soft voice finds its way into the mix of silence,”You can’t change the past. It sounds cliche, but it’s the truth. What’s done is done. Whether it’s your fault or not, I don’t care, because you’re still Tim. And you never want to hurt anyone. Except obviously,” She pulls back, sliding down her hands to Tim’s forearms, and looks him meaningfully in the eyes,”Yourself.”

Tim’s face instantly falls from a crying mess to a guilty mess. His gaze falls away from Lucy’s face and to the mattress they were sitting on.
“Look at me right now, Timothy Goodman.” Lucy sternly ordered him, gently putting a finger under his chin and making him look up at her.

“I don’t care if I have to come here every single goddamn day to help you. I don’t care if I have to force-feed you or drag you by the ear to your therapy sessions - You’re going to start eating properly. You’re going to get therapy. And you’re going to heal from this. Listen to me, now,” She inhales deeply, closing her eyes momentarily before looking back at him.

“You. Will. Get. Better. Please, for the love of god, take care of yourself. Not just for me, though,” She jerks a head out the door of the bedroom,”There’s a Pikachu out there that really needs his partner back.”

Tim was silent for a long time.

“I actually need you to promise me something.”

Lucy raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I don’t want to die here. I don’t want to let myself die like this,” Tim swallows and takes a long, shaky breath, staring with tired, dreary eyes into Lucy’s,”Promise me I won’t die here. I can’t.”

“I promise, Tim. I promise.”

There’s a silence once again, but a calm, more serene silence that drifts over the two lovers and settles on their minds, letting them know that everything will be okay. If they just help one another.

“Now… Let’s get you into the shower. That’s our first step.”

Chapter Text

When Tim woke up, rather than Pikachu in his arms like usual, he only felt warm blanket under his hand. He sat up groggily and rubbed at his right eye with one of his hands, slowly letting them adjust to the light coming in through his open window. Scanning his room, he saw that his door was open.

“What the hell, dad…” He mumbled. He reached his arms upward as he stood up, feeling his muscles tense, relax, and finally he felt awake and refreshed.

It had become common at this point for him to call Pikachu ‘Dad’ in most situations (when they were alone, of course). He was still getting used to it, since his partner wasn’t really human (or his Dad technically speaking), sometimes he’d receive strange looks from those who didn’t know, so Tim would keep this to a minimum. But after Lucy (sticking to her word and dragging him to every single therapy session) had gotten him to therapy, and after an extensive, emotionally taxing talk with his therapist, Pikachu had told Tim that “if it helps you cope better than being alone all the time, do whatever makes you feel best.” So that’s what he’d begun to do. He’d get a small panic once in while, but there was not technically any reason for him to panic anymore, so though he was starting to feel more relaxed around his partner, somehow he still felt the compulsion to shield his anxiety from his friend. Luckily, though, he hadn’t holed himself off in his room for about.. two months.

Tim felt the floor creak beneath his feet as he wobbled his way down the hall of his apartment and into the kitchen. Surprisingly, he saw the dining room table already set up, something that had never happened before. There was takeout coffee from their favorite coffee joint, orange juice, and a large pile of hot pancakes in the center of the table. At least 30. He couldn’t quite eyeball it - either way, there were too many. Two spots were set out - for himself, and Pikachu he was assuming - and a small, breathy laugh escaped from his throat. Then, a noise came from behind him.

“Wasn’t sure how many you wanted, so i just made the whole box.”

Tim turns and sees Pikachu trotting in with two plastic grocery bags. He quickly walks over and grabs them, seeing as they were very large- maybe too large for his partner to carry, oh my god, how far had he walked? - and placed them on the table. There was syrup and butter in one bag, and a small box in the other.

“Yeah, we were out of that stuff, and this,” Pikachu took the small box and dashed away, shoving it in a kitchen drawer,”Is for later. We have the day off, by the way.”

Tim looked from the drawer, to his Dad, to the table, and back to his Dad.

“You alright, kid?”

He wasn’t sad. There wasn't anything wrong. So why-

The dam broke. Tim crumbles to his knees and folds an arm around his torso, using his free hand to cover half his face. He wiped gently at the corner of his eye as large tears rolled down his cheeks. It was a very quiet cry, (almost inaudible if you weren’t looking at the kid) but it looked like Tim wasn’t sad at all. This wasn’t a panic, he could tell because of his calm heartbeat and absent headache. Nonetheless, Tim looked absolutely pitiful as he leaned his body down and lets his face touch the floor, wrapping both arms around his torso and wailed.

“Woah woah woah woah woah.. What’s up, Tim?” He heard Pikachu say gently. There was a long few minutes of Pikachu pressing his fuzzy body against Tim’s shoulder, in an attempt to comfort the crying man.

“I’m - I’m,” Tim drew in a shaky breath,”so happy.”

He smiled but still let out a few more breathy cries. Tim feels his partner place a paw on his head and ruffle his hair.

“Well that’s all I could ask for.” He hears his partner’s voice waver for a moment.

“Hey, uh, Dad,” Tim clears his throat and shuffles in his seat,”Thank you. For, uh, sticking with me through this whole thing. I know it wasn’t easy. For you or for Lucy.”

His partner smiles,”Of course, Tim. You’re not quite healed yet, but I know you’ll get there one day. And even if you don’t, that’s okay. We all need time and you’re taking yours.”

“Thanks. It means a lot to me, Dad. Can we eat now, though?” Tim felt his stomach growl. Pikachu chuckled.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”