Chapter Text
They stayed there on that wall for what must have been hours. Burgh cried, quietly and constantly. She would have preferred screaming, recriminations, a vow to never speak to her again. These kind of soft, desperate sobs… it was raw, private grief. It felt like a violation to witness it.
Shadow kept hold of his hand. She didn’t know what else she could do. She watched the fire trucks, their lights vivid against the smoke. It was an interesting process, watching the fire gradually being put out. She’d half wondered if someone was going to question them about it, but no one approached.
The sky was grey with the dawn when Burgh finally disentangled himself. Her side felt cold, where he’d been. He swiped at his eyes, his head held low.
‘Are you okay?’ Shadow asked.
‘I will be. Eventually.’ Burgh sniffed. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’
‘We should probably go home. It’s almost dawn.’
‘Dawn…’ Burgh lifted his head. ‘Lord Arceus. Shadow. You need a tetanus shot. Or – or antibiotics, or – something.’
Shadow lifted her arm. Burgh’s scarf was still wrapped around it. She hadn’t noticed the pain from the bite. Buried too deeply beneath everything else. ‘I guess.’
‘We should go.’ He looked towards the remains of the fire. She saw that horribly bleak expression cross his face again, before he pressed his hand over his eyes. When he looked back at her, he was composed. ‘There’s nothing left for us here.’
*
The lady in the A&E was gentle. She’d washed out the wound, bandaged it carefully, and given Shadow a prescription for antibiotics. Shadow had felt like she was watching the whole process on a video screen. None of it felt real.
By the time she and Burgh were finally walking home, the sun was fully up. Castelia City was shaking itself to life. The traffic was picking up, rumble of engines, beeping of horns. It felt like every second door they passed was a coffee shop, releasing that sweet scent into the morning air. A gaggle of children passed them, obviously on their way to school.
‘I could sleep for a thousand years,’ Burgh said.
‘Yeah,’ Shadow mumbled. ‘Some night.’
The Gym looked just the same as they’d left it. She thought longingly of Burgh’s apartment. Somewhere quiet and safe, where she could pull a blanket over her head and sleep for as long as she wanted.
Burgh went to unlock the door, but it gave under his hand. He frowned. ‘The Gym Trainers must already be here… I’ve lost all track of what time it is.’
The Gym Pokémon were already up and moving around. They chirped out greetings as Burgh and Shadow moved through the Gym. As they entered the final battle room, to head for his apartment, Shadow heard a familiar voice.
‘Kerry, Clarence, head down towards the docks. I’m going to contact Officer Jenny to see… if…’
Elesa was standing in the centre of the room. She was surrounded by all four Gym Trainers, Clyde, and a gaggle of Pokémon. As she caught sight of them, she trailed off.
‘Burgh?’ she said, her voice thick with disbelief. ‘Where have you been?’
A grey blur streaked across the room. Shadow was about to take a step forward, get between it and Burgh, when she recognised it for what it was. Pawniard crashed into her legs, clutching onto her with both arms, head buried against her leg. Once, her instinctive reaction would have been to push it away. But there was only exhaustion where her indignation would have been. She reached down and lifted Pawniard up. It nestled in against her, making soft, anxious sounds.
‘Hi, everyone,’ Burgh said. ‘What are you all doing here?’
Everyone started to talk at once, most of it sounding angry. Burgh flinched. Elesa held up a hand for silence.
‘Clarence got here early this morning,’ she said. ‘He found Leavanny standing guard over a strange Pokémon. The Gym was empty and you weren’t answering your Xtransceiver, or the phone in your apartment.’
‘I waited a little while,’ said Clarence, ‘in case you’d gone off somewhere, but there wasn’t any sign of either of you. So I called everyone else to figure out what to do.’
‘You’ve been gone for hours,’ Kerry said. ‘I called Elesa, because I know she has a spare key to your apartment, and she said she could come up to the city early, and by the time she got here you still weren’t back, and –’
‘And you weren’t in your apartment,’ said Elesa. ‘No note, couldn’t contact you, your partner Pokémon wasn’t with you –’
‘And I was,’ said Shadow.
‘Right,’ said Elesa. ‘We were going to send out search parties for you.’
Burgh was fiddling with his Xtransceiver. He frowned as it lit up, beeping with message after message. ‘Ah… I think it was turned off…’
‘Turned off?’ Elesa pinched the bridge of her nose. After a moment, she stepped forward and threw her arms around Burgh. ‘I’m just glad you’re okay… Why do you smell like smoke?’
‘Oh, it’s a long story.’ Burgh held onto her for a moment longer than necessary. ‘Shadow, where to even start?’
Shadow lowered her head. Concentrated on Pawniard, on squeezing it a little closer to her chest. ‘Dunno.’
Burgh started to explain what had happened. Hearing it aloud didn’t make Shadow feel any better. Hearing it again made it clear. She’d been so stupid.
When he trailed off, there was a stunned silence.
‘We need to tell Officer Jenny,’ Elesa said. ‘Now. If Team Plasma’s set up a base here…’
‘You won’t catch him,’ Shadow mumbled.
‘Even so,’ Elesa said. ‘Better to raise the alarm.’
‘Do whatever you want,’ Shadow said. ‘It won’t make a difference.’ Nothing that anyone could do was going to make a difference anymore.
‘You think he’ll leave the city?’ Louis said, looking at Shadow.
‘Yeah.’
‘So the exhibition doesn’t have to go ahead.’ He looked relieved. ‘So we can just –’
‘Oh, no!’ said Burgh. ‘It’s all been arranged! Which means that tonight is no longer about apprehending a thief. It’s about appreciation! About art! About you!’
‘No,’ said Louis, ‘oh no, no, Burgh, I can’t do this –’
‘Of course you can!’ Kerry said. ‘This is such an opportunity for –’
Shadow couldn’t take it anymore. The attention of the room was on Louis now. There was no need for her to be here. She made herself invisible, Pawniard too, went for the doorway. Walking, and then running. Needing to be away. Anywhere but here.
‘Shadow?’ she heard a voice call. But she didn’t know who, and she didn’t look back to check.
*
The apartment was quiet. Empty.
She let Pawniard down. Stumbled towards the couch. Her legs didn’t feel as though they could carry her any more. It was a relief to collapse, boneless, and close her eyes.
She’d failed.
She’d failed.
It ran through her head, over and over, a confused mix of guilt and shame, roaring flames and scuttering Pokémon, Zinzolin’s cruel smile, the grunt running into the darkness. Eventually it all blurred into sleep.
It must have been a long while later when she was woken up. The light had changed, the shadows at different angles. Burgh was crouching beside the couch. He must have slept, showered, changed – he looked much better than when she’d last seen him.
‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘Are you okay? You’ve been up here most of the day.’
Shadow nodded. Her mind felt tangled, slow, and her body just ached.
‘The exhibition’s going to start soon. Do you want to come down for it? I think Louis could use all the support he can get.’
‘No.’ She sighed. ‘Take Pawniard. To protect you.’
‘Seems like the danger’s passed, no?’
He’d said it lightly, he meant it as a joke, but Shadow shrank from it anyway. She turned, pressing her face back into the pillow. ‘Just take Pawniard.’
‘I…’ Burgh went quiet, and she couldn’t guess what the expression on his face was. ‘If that’s what you’d like me to do, Shadow… You know where the apartment phone is? The Gym phone number is written beside it. You can call down if you need anything, I’ll come right up.’
She said nothing.
‘Shadow?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sleep tight. I’ll tell Louis you said good luck.’
And he was gone. Shadow pressed her face into the pillow, and closed her eyes.
*
It was night when she woke up. The apartment was dark and silent. Pawniard was curled up against her side – she hadn’t even noticed it coming back, or settling in. The exhibition had to be over by now. She wondered if it had gone well.
She couldn’t carry on like this. Couldn’t keep carrying this guilt in her chest. She had to find some way to expunge it. Some way, somehow.
She got to her feet before she had time to think about it. Pawniard looked up, sleepy, but she waved it back.
The door to Burgh’s bedroom opened at a push of her fingers. She’d never been in here before. Unlike the rest of the apartment, he’d put in at least some effort to make this room seem nice. Carpet underfoot, big bed, plush pillows against the headboard. He’d strung up a line of fairy lights over the bed, and their faint light painted the room in a cozy yellow glow.
Burgh was asleep, curled on his side. He looked vulnerable like this, in a faded old t-shirt, curls spread across the pillow, mouth slightly open. She could cross the room in a moment, crush his throat, and that would be the end of him.
Maybe she should sleep closer to him. What had she been thinking, letting him go to the exhibition with only Pawniard for protection? What if Zinzolin had shown up? Another wrong choice, another disaster narrowly avoided.
The mattress was soft beneath her knee, as she climbed onto the bed. Leaning over Burgh, her arms braced either side of his head. ‘Burgh, wake up.’
Burgh turned, his arm hitting into hers. He blinked, and then smiled up at her, soft and sweet like the dawn breaking over the horizon. ‘Hi there, gorgeous.’
‘I need to tell you something.’ Now that she was here, she was shaking. A tremble in her limbs she couldn’t hold back.
‘Sure. Anything.’
But she couldn’t find the words. They were trapped in her throat, a nest of brambles pressed against her lungs.
He blinked a few more times. The expression on his face went from blissful to dawning suspicion. ‘I, um, I’m dreaming this. Right?’
‘No.’
‘Shit,’ said Burgh. ‘Fuck. I, uh, hi! What do you need, Shadow? Why are you in my bed?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry about your art, about the warehouse, I’m sorry I didn’t catch it, I’m sorry, I knew how much it meant to you, I should have tried harder, I –’
Understanding sparked in his eyes. ‘Let me sit up,’ he said.
She shuffled backwards. Burgh sat up, and pulled her into a hug. His body still sleep-warm, his curls soft and ticklish against her neck. Shadow didn’t reciprocate, just sat there stiffly. Staring into the distance without seeing anything.
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘It’s okay. I know you tried. That’s what matters to me.’
‘I should have tried harder. I should have gotten them back for you. I should have –’
‘Do you think I could ever have looked at them again?’ he said. ‘Knowing that you’d died to get them back to me? My paintings are important to me. But they’re not worth the cost of your life.’
‘Why?’ she said. ‘I’m not your friend.’
He squeezed a little harder. ‘Not just you. Anyone.’
‘But it’s all gone,’ she said. ‘How many years of your life was that? How many memories? Because I made a mistake. Because of my stupid plan.’
‘Shadow –’
‘If I wasn’t here, none of this would have happened.’
Burgh said nothing. Just tapped his fingers for a moment, like he was thinking. ‘Could I show you something?’
‘… If you want?’
‘I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.’ He let go, pulling back enough to look her in the eye. He looked anxious. ‘Promise not to get angry?’
Shadow tilted her head. ‘… Okay? What do you want to show me?’
‘Let me up.’
She climbed off the bed. Burgh threw off the covers and followed her. He was wearing pyjamas, she realised. The top had a Galvantula printed on it, while the bottoms were covered in a pattern of tiny Joltiks. He flicked on the lamp beside his bed.
‘There,’ he said. ‘Up the stairs.’
The stairs… ‘You’re letting me into your loft?’
He nodded. She hung back, uncertain, so Burgh took the lead.
The loft was organised chaos. Tables were pressed against three of the walls, leaving an open space in the middle of the room. Large windows looked down towards Castelia Bay. The walls were hung with pamplets, posters, advertisements for plays, for Pokémon exhibitions. One table was covered with paints and brushes, while another was piled high with rolls of canvas and sketchbooks. There were lamps scattered around, with bug-patterned lampshades – Karrablast here, Larvesta there. In the centre of the room, a canvas was propped up on an easel. It wasn’t finished – he’d just started to sketch something in with pencil.
‘There’s a line between inspiration and voyeurism,’ Burgh said. His voice sounded high, nervous. ‘I try not to cross it, if I can, but sometimes the muse strikes. I try to be respectful –’
‘You haven’t drawn me naked or something, have you?’
‘No!’ He pressed his hands to his face. ‘No – I – nude modelling is – Anyway! That’s not what I wanted to show you. It’s this.’
He led her towards the canvas in the centre of the room. Shadow looked at it closely. Buildings, yes, the collection of squares in the middle of the canvas were buildings, but she didn’t quite understand the jumble of lines above them, or below. But there was something familiar about it, all the same.
Burgh was gathering papers from a nearby desk. Reference images, she realised, as he held the first of them out to her.
‘That night,’ he said quietly. ‘You told me about your favourite memory. I kept thinking about it.’
The pictures in her hands were of the Village Bridge. Swatches of colour, test sketches. She looked back at the canvas, her heart leaping into her throat. She could see now what it would be. The Village Bridge, the river beneath it, the stars above it.
The aurora, filling the sky, reflecting in the water.
‘Oh,’ she whispered.
‘You were right,’ Burgh said. ‘About art. About the process. I won’t pretend I’m not upset about what I’ve lost… but that didn’t happen because of you. You showed me the way out of my art block, Shadow. You helped me feel inspired enough, safe enough, to create again. There’s no greater gift an artist can receive.’
‘Oh,’ Shadow said again.
She’d never felt the need to keep anything. But some greedy part of her was flaring to life. She wanted to watch him painting, watch the piece come to life under his fingers. Every gorgeous detail of it, the only beautiful night she’d ever had, recreated painstakingly by hand, for her, for her. She wanted to keep the painting, hide it in a secret room where no one would ever be able to touch it, keep it safe for ever.
‘Is that… okay?’ Burgh said. ‘I know some people don’t… but you said it was your favourite… so I figured…’
‘It’s nice,’ she managed at last. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘Good,’ Burgh said, sounding relieved. ‘I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret from you, or anything. Sometimes, early in the process, I don’t like to tell anyone what I’m doing, in case I end up running out of steam… But this one’s going to stick the course. I can feel it.’
It was more than just want for a canvas. It felt like a faucet had been forced open, deep in her heart. Want for a place, for a person. All these things she’d trained herself not to need. She was not a person, in Team Plasma, not something to be provided for. She did not need, did not want, did not think, did not feel.
But she wanted the painting.
She wanted Castelia. All its wild chaos, the constant never-ending flow of people, of Pokémon, she wanted the golden sunset over the pier, the art galleries, the ice-cream place, the square, the Gym, the ships bobbing gently in the water. All of it. She wanted to stay.
She wanted Burgh.
Wanted him in a way that would ruin her. In a way that brought this from mission-punishment-mistake to something worse, to something she would be destroyed for, unmade for, cast out forever for.
She could never indulge this want. Never. The fallout would be catastrophic, the costs far too high for both of them. It was a want she would have to keep to herself, never speak of. If she were to do this right, she would never acknowledge it at all, even in her mind.
But she could bend the rules. Just a little.
Just once.
Shadow stepped forward. Burgh started to move backwards, but he went still when she took his face in her hands, tilted his head back. She kissed his forehead, feeling the warmth of him, lingering a moment longer than she strictly needed to.
‘Thank you,’ she breathed.
‘I, I –’ Burgh squeaked. ‘I, um, I take it you like the painting?’
‘Mm.’ She went to pull away, but Burgh took her wrists. Lifted his head slightly.
His mouth was soft against hers. Pleasure and alarm shrilled through Shadow’s body, in equal amounts. She needed to pull away, she couldn’t indulge this, but he was leaning into her, and he tasted of toothpaste and he smelt like apples and –
And Ghetsis would peel the flesh from her bones, if he ever heard of it.
‘No,’ Shadow said, pulling away. ‘No, Burgh.’
Burgh startled backwards, flinching like he’d been slapped. ‘I – I’m sorry, Shadow, I thought… I didn’t mean to –’
‘That can’t happen,’ she said. ‘Between us. Not ever. If word ever got back to Team Plasma… I would be punished for it. Destroyed. It can’t happen.’
‘Team Plasma…? Team Plasma’s not here.’
‘I know. But someday, I’ll have to go back. I don’t want to make that harder than it needs to be.’
Burgh looked crestfallen. He seemed vulnerable, small, in those thin, ratty pyjamas. ‘Shadow… do you really think losing a friend would be any easier?’
‘I’m not your friend.’
‘Yes, you are. You can pretend otherwise all you want… but I care about you. I’m glad you’re in my life, even if you’re going to leave it someday.’
Shadow said nothing. He kept telling her this. Kept saying these ridiculous, sappy things, as if… as if…
‘Shadow,’ Burgh said softly. ‘What do you want? Really?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said automatically.
‘It does to me.’
‘You keep saying that.’
He took a step forward. Wary of her personal space, keeping a gap between them. ‘I say it because I mean it.’
‘You’re ridiculous.’
‘What do you want?’ he said again. ‘No Team Plasma in the equation. What do you want?’
It was quiet up here. The soft light of the lamps blurred everything at the edges. The canvas beside her. The only friend she’d ever made standing in front of her, waiting for her answer. No one else to hear. No one to punish her.
‘To stay,’ she whispered. ‘Forever.’
‘So stay,’ Burgh said. ‘Stay here with me.’
‘No!’ In a flash, she’d crossed the space between them, pressed a hand over his mouth. She leaned in close, almost hissing the words. ‘Maybe you can survive it, Burgh, but I can’t. I have to leave you, tomorrow, next week, whenever. You’re right. It’ll be hard enough to lose a friend without wondering about what else I’ll have to explain to Ghetsis.’
Burgh didn’t move. He looked sad.
Shadow lifted her hand. ‘Okay? Don’t… don’t offer me the chance to stay. Don’t try to convince me. It’s too hard.’
‘The option will always be there,’ he said. ‘Any hour of the day or night, if you change your mind.’
She was terrified that she would. That she would give in. It would mean losing everything, her siblings, her purpose, her sense of honour, the principles on which her entire being was founded. Giving up everything she was. For what?
For the chance to be happy.
Pathetic.
‘About the painting,’ Burgh said quietly. ‘I didn’t want you coming up here at first, because I didn’t really know you. But if you wanted to come up here now… I wouldn’t mind that at all. It’s nice to have company when I’m creating.’
She would have to go back to Team Plasma someday. She would have to slot back into her true life, put this aberration behind her. She could bring nothing with her, except memories. Memories of nights up here, in the golden quiet, just the two of them, Burgh’s expert hands moving over the canvas.
Memories.
It was all she would ever have.