It has been a week.

Diamond is still sobbing silently at her feet, trying to apologize. She wants to kick him up and demand he stop such unsightly actions. Yet she finds comfort that she was not alone.

A month drifts by, but she does not leave her mansion. The cream walls turn to steel bars in her mind; punishment for letting him slip through her fingers. Why she held on to him so precariously, she does not know; perhaps she never believed he could leave.

He did.

Nearly a year passes, and Dia has found love. The girl is lovely; crimson, waved tresses; bright amber eyes that shine with happy splendor. Platina does not see her in such a way-she sees unruly, blood-colored strands and peculiar glaring eyes. She sees the girl as an enemy, someone that took away her last friend. She is alone. And then she weeps, for she realizes why Dia loves such a girl.

Her spirit is not unlike Pearl's.

Several years float by-she does not know the year nor does she care. Her age is but a trivial matter, her health a passing problem. She avoids Dia's love, for every time she sees her eyes they remind her of the familiar determination she has missed.

Half a decade since he disappeared; her health still has not been restored to perfection. Her family pushes her into many arranged dates, hoping she will carry the Berlitz legacy on. On each date she attends her hair is a mess, skin sickly. She no longer used etiquette; and at the end her dates always leave without a second glance. She disgraces her family, she knows, but it does not matter.

Five years fly by like a dream. Dia has married, but she has not. She hardly wants to, for she will wait forever for Pearl. When the Time Pokemon takes you away, you must have all the time in the world. She knows this, and waits patiently by the window in the kitchen. Cooking occupies her time, for she wishes to celebrate once he returns.

The foods go moldy on the oak table.

She has grown old; her hair is no longer the lovely blue, her skin has sagged, and her slow melancholy way of walking has now transitioned into a sad limp. Dia is happy-why can't she be as well? Her bony finger tremble over the pokegear, in the process of dialing Pearl's number as she used to. Memories of humorous conversations and joking threats linger in her mind, and she pushes call.

He does not answer, and later she supposes she should not have expected him to.

Dia and his wife have perished a year prior, and Platina feels her heart slowing with every waking moment. She is confined to bed, and in her times of sleep, she dreams of them. Together, the three of them-or just two. In the rare moments of her waking, her vision is clouded with visions of their young days, full of joy and carefree walks.

She no longer expects him to come back.

One perfectly ordinary day, she awakes, her chest heaving with pain. Her eyes-they were still an ocean hue-water while her hands clutch the wool blanket desperately. She is dying, she knows. Her vast knowledge has not diminished, though her dreams have. She has given up hope. He has gone. If he were to ever return she would not be there to greet him. Platina prays he does not mind the mold on the food she has left him, for her mind does not remember that she had rid of the oak table years earlier.

Her misted eyes pick up bright blue swirling into her room, yet she does not realize their significance.

He tumbles from the portal, smiling at the familiar surroundings before noticing her obvious age. He looks no different from eons ago, when he was plucked away from them in one fatal accident.

She smiles through the pain, because suddenly she is young again.

Hello. This was kind of hard, because at times I noticed I had started typing in the past tense. If there are any mistakes, please point them out. I read some of Music Intuition's fics, so suddenly I had this desire to write again. This is haughty, if you cannot tell.