pokemon; Salt Water | Paul/Dawn
Dec. 3rd, 2009 03:26 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kitsuneasika.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
breakingdreamsTitle: Salt Water
Pairing: Paul/Dawn
Summary: The silence is a claw, freezing something aching in her chest.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.
Notes: This is my first Pokemon fanfiction, and I'm actually quite happy with it. It was super easy to write— the words just kept flowing. Also, some vague Pikachu/Buneary is in there.
Salt Water Traveling alone is so different, Dawn thinks. It's quiet, so quiet without Brock and Ash and Pikachu and all the others to fill the air with chatter. She still has her own Pokemon, yes, but it's not the same, something she's much aware of when she catches the longing look in Buneary's eyes.
It's the worst at mealtimes. There's not convenient table to sit at, no masterful cooking— only a blanket and some simple food she's managed to whip up. She's not a bad cook— just look at her Poffins— but she's no Brock. And while she eats there's none of Ash's chattering and Brock's comments, and there's not even that many interruptions before she has to pack up and get going again.
There's no Team Rocket bugging her either. She never thought that the day would come where she would miss them, but she never realized a journey could be so quiet either. So quiet, so lonely like freezing claws have wrapped themselves around something in her chest.
She wonders why she chose a different league from everyone else, why she couldn't go to Hoenn like Zoey or Kanto like May or off to some unknown place, like where she is now, except with Ash and Brock. Here she meets people and makes friends, sort of, but it's not the same. Not the same at all, even when Piplup puffs up with pride and chides some Pokemon he's so confident that he's better then.
When she sees Paul, she almost forgets that she doesn't like him and he's never noticed her. She opens her mouth, ready to call out to him, only to stop as he turns and walks out of the Pokemon Center without ever seeing her. And then she remembers that they've never been close, but finds herself wishing because she's desperate for a familiar face, any one at all instead of everyone new new new.
At the next contest, she fails after the first round. It's not her Pokémon’s fault; it's hers, because she wasn't thinking about the contest or her Pokemon or how to make them shine.
She's thinking about Sinnoh, about Ash and Brock and Brock and Ash. She repeats their names under her breath like a mantra, the words coating her lips like salt water, thick and heavy and bitter. Ash. Brock. Brock. Ash. They’re life rafts to keep her from drowning in the aloneness, the complete silence, when even her Pokemon can't help her.
They should be here, she thinks. Cheering for me.
Only Piplup and Buneary remain from Sinnoh— Piplup because he's her friend, her first Pokemon friends, and even if she wanted to leave him behind he'll stay by her anyways; and Buneary, because she would rather be lonely with Dawn then lonely by herself, surrounded by Rowan and Pachirisu and all the other Pokemon Dawn's caught.
When she sees him again she doesn't say anything, just stands there. It's not like last time, a glimpse from across a crowded room. There's no way he can miss her. He stands straight, like he always does, looking straight ahead as he walks towards her. She holds her breath and—
he walks past her, without a word or even a hint that he's seen her. It's then she realizes that she's nothing to him. It's always Ash that has been important, Ash's eccentricies he's been interested in, and without Ash she's not even worth a glance.
Instead of her fists tightening, like they would have done once, she sighs. And Piplup looks worriedly at her and she wishes and she wishes— she can't say it out loud, even to herself, and instead she chants. Ash. Brock. Brock Ash. Over and over in her mind. Before, the names were like a fire, trying to melt away the cold loneliness with the lines and curves of their names. But they're like embers now, barely leaving a mark as she grows cold.
Ash. Brock. She wonders what they would say now, what they would think if they saw her here, freezing in her loneliness to the point where she even yearns to see Paul's face. Brock. Ash. But if they could see her, she wouldn't be so lonely.
It wouldn't be so quiet.
Ash. Brock. She meets the shoreline, and for a while it's loud, oh so loud that it makes that frozen part of her sing. She and her Pokemon play in the surf, laughing and having fun and splashing each other and making sandcastles that are washed away in seconds and for the first time in a long while Piplup doesn't look so worried and Buneary can forget about who she left behind.
Then Dawn looks up, and there's no one watching her, waving at her from the beach. The water is cold, so very cold, and this time the salt on her lips is real, weighing her tongue down with bitterness. Brock. Ash.
She's not almost glad to see Paul the next time she does, she is glad. It's only for a moment that their paths cross, and then he's walking away as he so often does, and suddenly, ridiculously, she's glad that those random meetings aren't restricted to Ash, it can happen to her too. She's important enough.
She doesn't think about it. He's almost out of sight when she moves, when she follows. She jogs so he's a little closer, then drops back to a normal speed. Piplup looks up at her, as if trying to discover what she means by this, why she's doing this, but she can't tell him.
She doesn't know herself.
He doesn't seem to notice she's there. For days they walk like this, with her just far away enough that it's clear they're not traveling together. When they camp, she sets up far away from him, so all she can see is the light of his campfire. When they stay in a Pokemon Center, she always enters ten minutes after he does.
When he trains his Pokemon, she half-expects him to at least glance at her, as if he expects her to challenge him about his methods. But he doesn't and she doesn't and when it becomes too much for her she gets up and moves away and trains her own Pokemon, her own way.
There hasn't been a town with a contest for a while, so when they hit a town with a gym she's confused as to what to do, as first. She doesn't know whether to wait outside or at the Pokemon Center or to just give up and leave or what. Finally, she just follows him inside, after the battle starts, and just sits there and silently watches. It’s familiar, oh so familiar that she feels warm.
She's not entirely sure it’s only because of the familiar.
He wins, of course, and she knows this, has always known that he's good at what he does even if she doesn't agree with how he does it.
Ash. Brock. She doesn't repeat their names so often now. It's still quiet, because he never speaks to her, never acknowledges her existence, but it's no longer freezing her. Not completely. Somehow, just having someone there, even if they're not close, is enough to dull the scream of the quiet. It's presence, not noise, she realizes, that she's been longing for. She's still a little lonely, and she can still feel the salt water, heavy and bitter on her lips. Brock. Ash. But for the first time, she realizes salt melts ice.
Ash. Brock. She wonders what they would think, if they saw her now. Following Paul like a shadow, a lost Growlithe. Brock. Ash. She wonders what Paul thinks of her, an annoying little girl he can't shake off. The thought embarrasses her, but it's not enough to make her stop. He's familiar now, even more then he was before, and she's not sure what she would do if she didn't see him often, if she didn't see the light of his campfire at night.
She wouldn't know what to do if she lost him.
He stops in his tracks one day. She almost doesn't notice, taking another half-step before she looks up and sees him, unmoving. He turns halfway, and looks at her, straight in the eyes for the first time since Sinn— no, since ever. Another cold, a more bitter one, creeps into her stomach and spreads through her veins. This is it, she thinks. He's going to demand to know what I'm doing, why I'm following, and then he's going to be gone. The cold creeps up to where she's frozen, and grasps it more tightly in its claws.
Forever.
She wants to squeeze her eyes shut but she can't, she can't do anything but look back at him. Look and wait.
Minutes pass, with he looking at her and she looking at him. She wonders why he isn't saying anything when Piplup jabs her hand with her beak and through the sudden pain she realizes he's not planning to.
She's unsure but Piplup looks at her, as he's saying she should hurry up and it's then she and takes the first step, the hardest step, and looks back at him.
His expression doesn't change, and she takes another step, walks until she's right there, by his side. Only then does he turn, starts walking again, and in her surprise she almost left behind. Then she catches up, jogs until she's right by him once more.
She doesn't know why he's doing this— he's a loner, it can't be because he's lonely too— but she's glad for it. Maybe he's not so bad after all, she thinks, and she's not surprised to realize she already knew that.
She wonders what Ash and Brock would think, again, but for the first time the thought makes her smile. She looks at him, still smiling, and although his expression doesn't change she thinks she can see something shift in his eyes.
That night, they sleep around the same campfire. For the first time in a long time she hears someone breathing as he sleeps, and frozen piece of her feels warm in a way it never did before and—
she falls asleep, still smiling.
Pairing: Paul/Dawn
Summary: The silence is a claw, freezing something aching in her chest.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.
Notes: This is my first Pokemon fanfiction, and I'm actually quite happy with it. It was super easy to write— the words just kept flowing. Also, some vague Pikachu/Buneary is in there.
It's the worst at mealtimes. There's not convenient table to sit at, no masterful cooking— only a blanket and some simple food she's managed to whip up. She's not a bad cook— just look at her Poffins— but she's no Brock. And while she eats there's none of Ash's chattering and Brock's comments, and there's not even that many interruptions before she has to pack up and get going again.
There's no Team Rocket bugging her either. She never thought that the day would come where she would miss them, but she never realized a journey could be so quiet either. So quiet, so lonely like freezing claws have wrapped themselves around something in her chest.
She wonders why she chose a different league from everyone else, why she couldn't go to Hoenn like Zoey or Kanto like May or off to some unknown place, like where she is now, except with Ash and Brock. Here she meets people and makes friends, sort of, but it's not the same. Not the same at all, even when Piplup puffs up with pride and chides some Pokemon he's so confident that he's better then.
When she sees Paul, she almost forgets that she doesn't like him and he's never noticed her. She opens her mouth, ready to call out to him, only to stop as he turns and walks out of the Pokemon Center without ever seeing her. And then she remembers that they've never been close, but finds herself wishing because she's desperate for a familiar face, any one at all instead of everyone new new new.
At the next contest, she fails after the first round. It's not her Pokémon’s fault; it's hers, because she wasn't thinking about the contest or her Pokemon or how to make them shine.
She's thinking about Sinnoh, about Ash and Brock and Brock and Ash. She repeats their names under her breath like a mantra, the words coating her lips like salt water, thick and heavy and bitter. Ash. Brock. Brock. Ash. They’re life rafts to keep her from drowning in the aloneness, the complete silence, when even her Pokemon can't help her.
They should be here, she thinks. Cheering for me.
Only Piplup and Buneary remain from Sinnoh— Piplup because he's her friend, her first Pokemon friends, and even if she wanted to leave him behind he'll stay by her anyways; and Buneary, because she would rather be lonely with Dawn then lonely by herself, surrounded by Rowan and Pachirisu and all the other Pokemon Dawn's caught.
When she sees him again she doesn't say anything, just stands there. It's not like last time, a glimpse from across a crowded room. There's no way he can miss her. He stands straight, like he always does, looking straight ahead as he walks towards her. She holds her breath and—
he walks past her, without a word or even a hint that he's seen her. It's then she realizes that she's nothing to him. It's always Ash that has been important, Ash's eccentricies he's been interested in, and without Ash she's not even worth a glance.
Instead of her fists tightening, like they would have done once, she sighs. And Piplup looks worriedly at her and she wishes and she wishes— she can't say it out loud, even to herself, and instead she chants. Ash. Brock. Brock Ash. Over and over in her mind. Before, the names were like a fire, trying to melt away the cold loneliness with the lines and curves of their names. But they're like embers now, barely leaving a mark as she grows cold.
Ash. Brock. She wonders what they would say now, what they would think if they saw her here, freezing in her loneliness to the point where she even yearns to see Paul's face. Brock. Ash. But if they could see her, she wouldn't be so lonely.
It wouldn't be so quiet.
Ash. Brock. She meets the shoreline, and for a while it's loud, oh so loud that it makes that frozen part of her sing. She and her Pokemon play in the surf, laughing and having fun and splashing each other and making sandcastles that are washed away in seconds and for the first time in a long while Piplup doesn't look so worried and Buneary can forget about who she left behind.
Then Dawn looks up, and there's no one watching her, waving at her from the beach. The water is cold, so very cold, and this time the salt on her lips is real, weighing her tongue down with bitterness. Brock. Ash.
She's not almost glad to see Paul the next time she does, she is glad. It's only for a moment that their paths cross, and then he's walking away as he so often does, and suddenly, ridiculously, she's glad that those random meetings aren't restricted to Ash, it can happen to her too. She's important enough.
She doesn't think about it. He's almost out of sight when she moves, when she follows. She jogs so he's a little closer, then drops back to a normal speed. Piplup looks up at her, as if trying to discover what she means by this, why she's doing this, but she can't tell him.
She doesn't know herself.
He doesn't seem to notice she's there. For days they walk like this, with her just far away enough that it's clear they're not traveling together. When they camp, she sets up far away from him, so all she can see is the light of his campfire. When they stay in a Pokemon Center, she always enters ten minutes after he does.
When he trains his Pokemon, she half-expects him to at least glance at her, as if he expects her to challenge him about his methods. But he doesn't and she doesn't and when it becomes too much for her she gets up and moves away and trains her own Pokemon, her own way.
There hasn't been a town with a contest for a while, so when they hit a town with a gym she's confused as to what to do, as first. She doesn't know whether to wait outside or at the Pokemon Center or to just give up and leave or what. Finally, she just follows him inside, after the battle starts, and just sits there and silently watches. It’s familiar, oh so familiar that she feels warm.
She's not entirely sure it’s only because of the familiar.
He wins, of course, and she knows this, has always known that he's good at what he does even if she doesn't agree with how he does it.
Ash. Brock. She doesn't repeat their names so often now. It's still quiet, because he never speaks to her, never acknowledges her existence, but it's no longer freezing her. Not completely. Somehow, just having someone there, even if they're not close, is enough to dull the scream of the quiet. It's presence, not noise, she realizes, that she's been longing for. She's still a little lonely, and she can still feel the salt water, heavy and bitter on her lips. Brock. Ash. But for the first time, she realizes salt melts ice.
Ash. Brock. She wonders what they would think, if they saw her now. Following Paul like a shadow, a lost Growlithe. Brock. Ash. She wonders what Paul thinks of her, an annoying little girl he can't shake off. The thought embarrasses her, but it's not enough to make her stop. He's familiar now, even more then he was before, and she's not sure what she would do if she didn't see him often, if she didn't see the light of his campfire at night.
She wouldn't know what to do if she lost him.
He stops in his tracks one day. She almost doesn't notice, taking another half-step before she looks up and sees him, unmoving. He turns halfway, and looks at her, straight in the eyes for the first time since Sinn— no, since ever. Another cold, a more bitter one, creeps into her stomach and spreads through her veins. This is it, she thinks. He's going to demand to know what I'm doing, why I'm following, and then he's going to be gone. The cold creeps up to where she's frozen, and grasps it more tightly in its claws.
Forever.
She wants to squeeze her eyes shut but she can't, she can't do anything but look back at him. Look and wait.
Minutes pass, with he looking at her and she looking at him. She wonders why he isn't saying anything when Piplup jabs her hand with her beak and through the sudden pain she realizes he's not planning to.
She's unsure but Piplup looks at her, as he's saying she should hurry up and it's then she and takes the first step, the hardest step, and looks back at him.
His expression doesn't change, and she takes another step, walks until she's right there, by his side. Only then does he turn, starts walking again, and in her surprise she almost left behind. Then she catches up, jogs until she's right by him once more.
She doesn't know why he's doing this— he's a loner, it can't be because he's lonely too— but she's glad for it. Maybe he's not so bad after all, she thinks, and she's not surprised to realize she already knew that.
She wonders what Ash and Brock would think, again, but for the first time the thought makes her smile. She looks at him, still smiling, and although his expression doesn't change she thinks she can see something shift in his eyes.
That night, they sleep around the same campfire. For the first time in a long time she hears someone breathing as he sleeps, and frozen piece of her feels warm in a way it never did before and—
she falls asleep, still smiling.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}