A/N: Information from this story may contradict information from HeartGold and SoulSilver. I came up with and wrote parts of this story in 2006, and like it the way it was in my mind back then. Besides, I haven't played through those games yet.


This chapter is rather incoherent. At this point in the story, so is Silver. He is not fully aware of the difference between what he's saying out loud and what he's just thinking, either, and that remains throughout the story. Use context clues.

I'm using Japanese names because I think believe in respecting the names that the original creators gave their creations, and also because I have this weird autistic-ish kind of thing that ever since I was, like, six, the concept of name changing has just irritated me to no end. It just gets under my skin. I have no idea why. And no offense to autistic people and I have no idea if that phenomenon is common among them or anything. Anyway.

And also, I listed Gold/ Ethan/Hibiki/ as character 2 because he makes the most sense to list, but this story was intentionally designed so that the second person could be any of the protagonists. So let it be whoever you want.

Anyway… enjoy the fic. :D

So it is you. I thought I recognized your voice from the stupid interviews that are always playing on the Pokémon Center TV's. How funny it is that I always run into you. But I don't feel like talking to you right now. What would I be able to say?

I can't call you a weakling, because you're the fricking Champion and I'm not.

I can't call you pathetic, because you've succeeded at every tiny goal you've even remotely desired, and I live alone in a cave.

I can't call you stupid, because you've known all along what I just can't learn.

But I can't call you strong because you've only accomplished what you've accomplished because you live in a world where cotton candy grows on trees and the ground raises itself to make it easier for you to step on it.

I hate you.

You are training your Miniryu, I see. Togechick is perched on your head watching. All your other Pokémon must be too high-leveled for Miniryu because you're picking on random Zubat instead of having your Pokémon spar. It's not really a fair fight for the Zubat. I don't get it. You're supposed to be the pinnacle of moral perfection, but attacking wild, weak Pokémon in mass amounts was always something I associated with my old ways. Back when I was bad.

But…

Oh, yeah. I still am bad, aren't I?

Can't you stop reminding me of everything I've ruined, for once? I kick the ground.

"Who's there!?" You spin around, alarmed, and see me.

I hate you.

"Silver!?" You question. "Is that you?"

Of course it is. Who else hates you?

"Dude... what are you doing here?"

I live here, stupid.

You blink. "Here? In the cave?"

That's what I said, isn't it?

Your face is slightly hidden by the dark but I can see that you're a little incredulous. "Um... oh. Well, what's up, then? You wanna battle or something?"

No.

"Ya sure? No offense, but you look like you need to blow off a little steam."

I said no, idiot.

"OK, OK. Sorry. Just asking. Err... is it just me, or are you acting a little more evil than usual?"

What am I supposed to say to that idiotic comment?

"I mean, I know you've never exactly been a cuddly teddy bear, but you look like you want to kill someone right now."

I glare at you, but you don't look scared at all. Your eyes almost soften and you clear your throat, off-handedly recalling your Miniryu back to its Poké Ball.

"Look. Sorry," you say. "I was just being a jerk. All wittiness aside... what I was trying to ask was, are you OK?"

I can't say yes because I'm not, I can't say no because that would mean I want your sympathy.

You take a few steps towards me and I fold my arms across my chest.

"Geez... look at you. You're, like... nothing but skin and bones. And you're covered in dirt." You raise your eyes so they level with mine. "Something really bad happened, didn't it?"

Don't you dare start that with me. I've seen the way you act on TV and I know you're a hypocrite and you don't care about ANYONE but yourself. Well, maybe your Pokémon, too.

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

No. I hate you. I hate you. And you BETTER take a step back right now and leave me alone or I'll -

"It might make you feel better!"

You can NOT make me feel better!

And I am clutching your collar, yanking you. You gasp in fear. And then I thrust you. You gasp as you fall, and then you land and pebbles scatter.

I told you I don't want to talk about it.

Now do you believe me?

Champion?

Um, Champion?

Your Togechick is about you use Metronome on me.

We're in a cave.

That's not in anyone's best interest right now, genius.

Champion?

Champion? Champion? I drop to my knees and shake your shoulders. Wake up! Don't you dare mess with me you stupid weakling because I know I didn't push you that hard. Champion?

Champion!

You don't get up.

-

Don't get me wrong, I still hate you. But I can't just knock you out and leave you to bleed alone. I have that much decency, at least. Though I wonder if you would do the same for me.

So. Yeah. This is my crevice. The one little corner of the world I can go to that doesn't spit me back out. And honestly I'm starting to regret ever bringing you here. You don't need a crevice. You have the whole fricking universe already! Now you're taking up space in my crevice, too. And you probably don't even appreciate it. You're probably going to wake up in a few minutes and start complaining about the cold or something. And then you'll leave and go home to your happy family and million friends and tell them that you got kidnapped by a weirdo who lives in a cave. You have such a stupid pathetic storytelling complex it makes me want to destroy every TV that shows interviews with you.

I hate watching your interviews. You sound so unbelievably phony it makes me embarrassed to even know you. Someone asks you for advice and you're like,"Never give up!" Because, of course, just because you managed to get everything you ever wanted, totally means that everyone else can have whatever they want. And if they don't have everything you have, they just didn't try hard enough. It makes me sick how you think you're so much better than everyone else that way. Has it ever occurred to you that some people might have tried just as hard as you did, and had bad luck?

And the same goes for everything else you say. You think you're so wise, but you don't even know what you're talking about. "Do your best!" "Be yourself!" "Friends are the most important thing!" It's like you absorb all these quotes from self-help books and children's programs, and just spit them out at random. And that's why I don't want to "talk about" my problems with you. Because when you said, "Talk about it!" it was just a sample of your inspiring-quotes collection and you didn't want to hear a thing I had to say. Maybe you wanted me to talk, but you didn't want to listen; you just wanted to spew another quote at me and then go on your way thinking about how cool it was of you to be so kind to a hopeless wreck like me.

I know how you are.

Hmph. If you were awake right now you'd be denying it. Your eyes would widen and your mouth would drop in protest, and correct me in a hurt voice, "But Silver, that's not true! I'm sorry you feel that way, but I do mean the things I say, and I really do want to help you feel better!"

And maybe I would have believed you.

Except I already fell for that. And I'm not going to fall for it again.

You probably wonder what I'm talking about. I'll tell you. I'm talking about that time in the Team Rocket base in Chōji Town. I was taking them on for my own reasons and happened to bump into you as well. Because of course you had to show up and wipe them out yourself. Of course you had to be the hero.

Did you know that by the time you got there, I'd already wiped out half the base on my own? The better half of the base, I'll add. Those grunts you were taking out were my leftovers. Anyway. I was taking a short rest when I happened to run into your pink-haired friend Wataru. He asked what I was doing there - the idiot had the nerve to mistake me for a Team Rocket member at first. We ended up in a battle. I lost. Of course I did - all of my Pokémon had lost at least half of their health from fighting the endless amount of Rocket Grunts that popped out of nowhere every time I walked by a statue. Anyway. He beat me at an advantage and gave me a speech about how I needed to treat my Pokémon with love and trust. He was right of course. I'll admit that now. But this isn't about him. This is about you.

I crossed paths with you a few minutes later. I was pretty ticked off from losing, and ticked off from Wataru's lecture. I took it out on you. And while I was yelling at you, your eyes widened. You cocked your head, listening to me. And you said something I never expected you to say.

"I'm sorry."

And I glared at you. What was that supposed to mean?

"Look, Silver. I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot," you said. "But neither of us is the enemy here. We both came here to stop Team Rocket. So can we just... call it a truce? Partner up for now?"

I considered it. You'd caught me off guard. But I finally shook my head.

"No," I answered. "I don't know why the frick you're here, but as for me, I have a personal score to settle with Team Rocket. I don't need anyone tagging along. So just leave me alone."

I meant what I said - I didn't want you weighing me down and stealing my victory from me. But at that moment I began to wonder why I hated you so much. You really hadn't done anything to me. You gave my name to the cops, but that could be forgiven. You were a stupid small-town kid who'd probably been raised on safety videos that told you police were your friends and you probably never knew any better than to tell the cops whatever they wanted to know. So, whatever. I didn't have to like you, but there wasn't any real reason to be so mean. Maybe we could have a truce. Maybe.

"Well, all right then, Silver," you said, sounding almost disappointed.

I ran past you. Wataru had left my team in awful condition. I intended to go to the Pokémon Center and run back to finish the team off, but by the time I returned, they were already gone and their generator had been shut down. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. I'd lost my chance.

Stupid pink-haired freak.

As I began to walk back towards the exit, I overheard voices coming from the other side of the wall. I paused to listen. It was you and Wataru, chatting away.

"I wonder what happened to that red-haired boy," Wataru said.

You scoffed. "Silver? Why do you care?"

My heart began to pound.

"I'm worried about him," Wataru said. "He needs to learn to treat his Pokémon with kindness."

"Worried!" You exclaimed, almost laughing. "Don't. Trust me, I know Silver. He's such a freak! He'll start acting violent if you so much as say hi to him. Worry about his Pokémon. He could get eaten by an Ursaring for all I care."

And that's why I know better than to trust you with anything.

Now, don't get me wrong and don't feel guilty and don't start apologizing. You didn't hurt my feelings. You didn't even surprise me - I learned long ago that no other being would care if I got eaten by an Ursaring. It just made me mad. There you were, being a hero, liberating Pokémon and saving the world or whatever you were doing - and you couldn't even admit that you were just as finicky and hateful and human as those Rockets you fought. And the way you talked about me - "I know Silver." I mean, what? No, you don't know me! You've probably spent thirty collective minutes with me. Not including right now. Considering you're unconscious and all.

Talk about it, you said. Are you sure? 'Cause I'll assure you, I - unlike you - have a lot to say. But I - unlike you - don't have multitudes of paparazzi and fans that want to listen. No one wants to hear about an almost champion who almost defeated Team Rocket and almost saw the legendary beasts sleep. Hmph.

Talk about it? Fine. I'll talk about it. Isn't that what I'm already doing, anyway? I'll admit it: I am human. And somewhere inside me there is a natural human longing to be recognized as who I am. My brain knows that telling you anything about me would be foolish because you don't give a darn, but I do wish you would know. That's what it's like to be invisible. You probably don't know that feeling. The feeling that you can walk out on the street, and no matter how many people you see, you'll never find someone who knows you. You just get the urge to see someone and grab them by the collar and scream at them, "I have a name! Remember me!"

Talking. I do miss talking. I never did it very much. But I did talk to my Pokémon every night, back when they were with me. Not all of them understood everything that I said, but I think they listened anyway. They listened just because they knew I needed them to. How can you ask for a better friend than that? Someone who will listen to you even if they can't understand. I miss them so much. Words can't even describe how much I miss them, and how sorry I am for ruining it all.

Why shouldn't I talk to you? I'll talk. I'll talk because I'm a pathetic wreck and I need to talk, and because you're here to talk at. Of course you'd probably laugh your head off if you listened to the things I'm about to say. Or maybe you'd realize what a hypocrite you were and feel guilty about it your whole life and I'd be the one to laugh. Or maybe you'd just nod your head and say, "I see" and then retell one of my stories in one of your interviews and attach a stupid life lesson to it so it would appear in an inspirational documentary.

But there's no use in maybes. Because you're not listening. You're unconscious. And by the time you wake up, you'll forget me just like everyone else did. And everything I've told you will become just as void in your mind as something you never even heard.