A/N: So I wrote this multiple-chapter fic for LJ's pokemonbigbang contest. It was so much fun to challenge myself like that, and I love the way this story turned out. Huge thanks to my beta, quotemyfoot, this story would be nothing without you!

Other notes... The way I formatted this (and practically everything I write) is in a series of scenes, alternating between current time (the basic storyline of B/W) and N's past (headcanon!). Also, when I was writing this I listened to David Cook's new album This Loud Morning pretty much on repeat. It's a good album. I don't know how much that contributed to the story, but I thought I'd mention it.

Please read and review!

Disclaimer: In the second flashback scene, Anthea and Concordia sing a song to N. I did not write the lyrics of that song. They were written by David Norona for Eric Whitacre's choral composition, Sleep. I sang it with my choir last year and it's a beautiful piece - the lyrics stuck with me and fit in so perfectly with this story that I couldn't help but include them.

They are eleven when they first meet him. Ghetsis brings him to the two sisters as a mere toddler clinging to his father's arm, and he pushes the boy unceremoniously towards them, forcing him to walk on his own. He is so small, so scared, that he can do no more than stumble.

"This is the purpose for which the two of you were born," Ghetsis says. "Two women could never be my heirs, so I sent you away until I needed you. But this boy… this is N. He is three. Take care of him. Anything you need will be provided at my discretion. Your brother – your lord – depends on you and rules you."

Ghetsis's cold eyes fix on his son's terrified ones. Though their color is the same, the lights behind them could not be more disparate. Ghetsis leaves without looking back, and N watches him go, wide-eyed.

The twins trade a glance. They are only eleven. They are just girls, hovering on the cusp of becoming women. But then they see N, and as one, they kneel to the level of someone even younger and more helpless than themselves.

"I am Anthea."

"I am Concordia."

They both smile.

"We love you, N."

Even from a distance, he could easily tell that the crowd was moved. He could see it in the little things, feel it in the strange thickness that spread through the air as Ghetsis spoke. Discomfort traveled in waves as real as light and sound, and it was as contagious as laughter, as disease. Heads were turning, people were fidgeting, and the murmuring that filled the courtyard never grew loud enough to cover Ghetsis's voice. A single consciousness had agreed to be riveted by his every word.

N watched it all with discerning eyes. He had not seen much of the world yet, but he had seen this. He had been raised with this feeling. Unconsciously he palmed the new Pokéball at his belt, turning it over absently in his hand. The side that had been nearer to his skin was warmed by his body heat; the other side was cool, exposed to the autumn air.

Ghetsis's final words echoed through the courtyard. He and his followers departed. N waited. The disconcerted crowd, the tension in the air… N's breath came in a trembling rhythm, shaken by anticipation. Goosebumps prickled along his arms as, slowly, the anxious listeners dispersed.

Only one person remained. N frowned. Lingering after one of Ghetsis's speeches was atypical, practically unheard of – Ghetsis's aura discomfited his audience so much that they always scurried back to their lives with dark thoughts lingering in their memories. No one liked to stay at the scene. But here, someone hadn't moved a muscle. It was a young girl, too, with lots of bushy dark hair and a brand-new bag slung over one shoulder. A whole minute passed, and the girl didn't move, so N, curious, approached her.

She noticed his approach at once and watched him grow nearer with a guarded expression.

"Who are you?" she said boldly, before N could speak.

"Is that a polite way to greet a stranger?" he said, flashing her a small smile, one that he had only begun to practice in the past few months.

"Well, excuse me for being a bit wary after that," she said, jerking her head at the courtyard's raised dais. She crossed her arms and scowled.

So she didn't agree with Ghetsis. And she was adamant and strong-willed.

"It caused quite the sensation, didn't it?" said N.

The girl appeared to relax a little, but like those times in his past when he knew an injured Pokémon didn't yet trust its savior, N could still sense the girl's unease. "It's just unbelievable," she said sadly. "Don't you think? How anyone could say that about Pokémon, our lifelong friends…"

"Unheard of." His voice was easy, almost pleasant, and yet his fingers began to tremble slightly; he tightened his hands into fists to still his rising emotion.

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding. She shivered. Then she extended her hand with a smile. "My name's White. I just started my journey – I'm from Nuvema Town."

"So you have your own Pokémon, then?"

"Yeah!" she said excitedly, bringing out two shiny Pokéballs. "Do you? I see your Pokéballs there, on your belt – you do! We should have a battle!"

"And you think that's kind to these Pokémon?" N said coolly, his eyes locked on hers. "Forcing them to fight and harm each other? Our lifelong friends, as you called them… participating in such senseless violence, perhaps against their will, purely for our whims?"

The girl, White, despite all her earnestness, could only stare at him for a moment. Then she blinked. Her keen eyes narrowed dangerously. "So you're one of them, too. Those Team Plasma idiots." Her tone was sharp, though she barely moved her lips. "I don't believe that rubbish. My Pokémon are my friends, my companions. They fight for me because they love me, and I them – our passions are the same! They're happy with me, fighting with me!"

N smirked. "Prove it."

She released her two Pokémon with astonishing speed. An Oshawott and a Lillipup, both sparkling with health and vitality – and in their eyes was something else entirely, something beyond the physical.

"Lily, you first," she said, and the Lillipup bounded forward.

For once, N's heart began to beat just a little bit faster. It was an odd, tight, and unfamiliar feeling, these nerves. He released Purrloin first. With just a flick of their wrists, the battle began. Claws and teeth glimmered in the setting sun as they flashed out, raked across fur, then slipped back to defend.

"Tackle, Lily!"

"Assist!" yelled N.

A thunderbolt shot from Purrloin and caught White's Lillipup by surprise. The little Pokémon took the hit directly and crumpled, badly singed.

N relaxed, sure the round was over. But then the little Pokémon struggled slowly to its feet, breathing hard, but with eyes still shining with that strange spirit. The Lillipup barked and growled, and N's ears rang. Blinking, N ordered another attack at once.

"Pursuit, Purrloin!"

"Dodge it and use Sand Attack!"

Blow after blow, the Lillipup hung on, so bravely – until finally, it could take no more. N's heart cringed to see such a courageous little creature fall so wearily, but that, of course, was always the consequence of a Pokémon battle. Purrloin, too, was weak and battered. White's determination didn't waver. She picked up her Lillipup with care, kissed its cheek, and returned it to its Pokéball.

The tenderness in her motions and her whispers made N, for a second, forget to breathe.

But no – this was a battle – there could be no "happy" relationship, nothing touching, between Pokémon and trainer during something as a brutal as a battle.

"Go, Oshawott!" White said fiercely. "Water Gun!"

Purrloin was down at once. N winced. He had been careless. Calling Purrloin back, N took a deep breath, his next Pokéball clutched tight in his palm.

"Zebstrika! Go!"

He had this. Type. Power. Experience. He expected to see White blanch, then perhaps try to cover it with bravado and courage in the face of the impossible. But he, N, would always know the truth; there was no way for her to win.

"Razor Shell, Oshawott!" screamed White.

And then he heard it. Amongst the battle's chaos, the voice of White's Pokémon resounded in his ears, in his mind, in his soul. It sang a long-lost melody, echoing from the Oshawott's every step and attack, from every gleam in its eye, from every determined cry. White's Pokémon, somehow, despite its imprisonment and its cruel labor… was singing for her, more strongly and beautifully than N had ever heard before. N swore his heart must have skipped a beat, perhaps more, for what else could leave him so breathless once again?

"Now, use Tackle!"

White's voice should have snapped N back to reality. But she, too, became part of her Pokémon's song. Their voices resonated in harmony.

N knew he was lost; he could only call out a few feeble attacks. Zebstrika collapsed, and White and Oshawott were both breathing hard, flushed with joy at their inconceivable victory. White jumped up and down in glee, celebrating like a child - she was a child, really. N silently retrieved his fallen friend. While White hugged her Oshawott, N approached her, struggling to form words.

"I thought…" he began, then paused. "I heard their voices. I thought it would be impossible, to hear such…"

Passion. Beauty. Spirit. Love. The simplest words wrenched his heart into shapes he never knew it could attain, filled unknown gaps in his chest, and pressed painfully against his skin.

But it couldn't be. No Pokémon could ever feel that way about a human. As moments passed, as the anomaly faded into memory, N recovered himself.

"I don't understand you," he said at last. "But we will meet again, I am sure. I… I hope to hear your Pokémon again. I never expected… But still. My beliefs hold. It is unjust, it is wickedness at its worst, for us humans to confine Pokémon in Pokéballs. They are too magnificent, too glorious for such a world as this…"

As he spoke, his dream danced before his eyes. His words began to spill out in a rush. "My name is N," he told White as he stared into the future. Her face still lingered, even in his ethereal dream. "Pokémon should be free. They should have a world of their own, since this one, shared with our incompetence, will never be satisfactory… They will have a free world, a world to suit their wildest dreams…"

N blinked. His vision vanished, but White was still there. He extended his hand to her, but White did not take it. Her frown was more curious than hostile as she looked at him, almost studying him, it seemed, as if she were trying to figure him out.

"Well. Until next time."

With that, N nodded once more, turned, and departed. His heartbeat sounded unusually loud in his ears. Though he didn't look back, N could feel White's penetrating gaze following him down the road.

Concordia sits on the edge of N's bed, Anthea at her feet, leaning against her legs. N is cradled amongst pillows and blankets so only his face and green hair are visible. Warmth settles into his limbs; he doesn't want to move. If he moves, the sheets are cold.

"The evening hangs beneath the moon,
A silver thread on darkened dune
With closing eyes and resting head
I know that sleep is coming soon…"

Concordia picks up the next lines, her voice less pure than Anthea's but her words more precise.

"Upon my pillow, safe in bed
A thousand pictures fill up my head
I cannot sleep, my mind's aflight,
And yet my limbs seem made of lead."

"If there are voices
In the night
A frightening shadow
Flickering light…"

"Then I surrender unto sleep
Where clouds of dream
Give second sight…"

"What dreams may come both dark and deep
Of flying wings and soaring leap?
As I surrender unto sleep,
As I surrender unto sleep."

Their mixed melodies linger, repeat, build. Their voices blend to a soothing rhythm, soft but all-encompassing, as if they were the only sounds in the world. N's eyes are struggling to remain open, but in the tiny slivers of green still visible, they can see that he is at peace.

"So. We meet again, White."

He'd recognized her by her bushy brown hair and torn-up denim shorts, standing outside the Nacrene City Gym. She looked contemplative – until she heard his voice, and whipped around, eyes wide.

"You – N!" she said. "What are you doing here?"

He strolled casually up to her, though understandably, she was a little bit cool towards him. But something about her made him smile. "Same as you, really. Searching. Learning. Becoming stronger. Our goals are only the slightest bit different. Would you join me for a coffee, White? It's chilly out," he said, gesturing at the nearby café.

"You're unbelievable," she said. She didn't accept his offer, but nor did she turn around and leave him. She kept her distance as they walked down the road and into the café. Her lips pursed when N, without asking, paid for both coffees. They seated themselves at a table for two in the corner of the porch, tucked away from the other guests.

"Why are you following me?" she said without preamble, crossing her arms tightly.

"Why did you come with me just now?" he replied, and she frowned but didn't answer. "I'm not following you. But I told you – our paths are similar. It is inevitable that they will cross."

"I'm not doing anything like what you're doing! You're trying to – to - "

She seemed unable to find the words to describe his apparent treachery. N met her eyes steadily. "I want you to hear me out, White," he said. "Our ideals are closer than you think."

"I'd never - "

"No, listen. Your Pokémon… I can hear their voices. I heard your voice. Love… that's what I heard. In all my life, I have never heard such passion in a Pokémon's voice. It was so perfect."

"What do you mean, you can hear them?" said White. "I mean, everyone can hear them, but that's not what you meant, is it?"

"They speak to me," N said emphatically. "I can hear what they say in words as clear as yours, White. I hear it through my heart. I've been able to understand Pokémon's speech for as long as I can remember."

White uncrossed her arms and rested them on the table. "How can I be sure you're telling the truth?"

"Because I'm right, aren't I? Your Pokémon said they loved you. That's what you told me, too." He could tell by her expression that he was beginning to win her over with his argument. "See? It really is the truth. I can hear them. But such a situation as yours, such love between Pokémon and trainer, is so rare. With the vast majority of those who call themselves Pokémon trainers - they are simply captors. Jailkeepers. I want to learn the truth."

"What truth?"

Her words were less sharp, less loud. Her eyes were wider, too, cautiously inquisitive. N leaned forward. He was speaking quickly now.

"The truth of the thoughts and feelings of Pokémon inside Pokéballs. The ideals of every trainer. Because when Pokémon are confined… I can no longer hear their voices. Don't you think Pokémon are happier when they are free? Isn't that why they fight so fiercely before being confined in a Pokéball? Close your eyes, White. Envision a perfect world, where Pokémon, in all their glory, roam free and happy forever. Can you see it? A perfect future?"

Across the small table, White's eyes were indeed closed. There was no angry tilt to her eyebrows, and her lips were no longer quite so thin. She was a very pretty girl, smooth skin and a heart-shaped face – and to N, her beauty became all the more pronounced now, even with the slight frown she wore as she contemplated his future. One of her hands rested on the table, so N took it in his. Her eyes opened – they were blue, a pale contrast with her dark hair – and there was no longer fire in her gaze; she stared, confused and cautious.

"Can you see it?" N said again.

Her fingers twitched. She dropped her gaze. "It's not right," she said. "The separation… it's not fair."

"But it's necessary."

She shook her head. "But all this talk… who are you to do anything about it anyway, N?"

He thought suddenly of his 18th birthday and his coronation, of Ghetsis slowly lowering the weight of Plasma's crown onto his head, of the trembling in his arms as he knelt there, all his hopes and dreams weighing heavily on his shoulders…

Something buzzed, and White jumped, pulling her hand away from N. "Oh!" she rummaged in her bag for a moment, pulling out a small device that N, with a heart-stopping jolt, recognized as a Pokédex – and then she finally found what she was looking for: a cross-transceiver. "Hi, Cheren, Bianca," she said into it. "Yeah, I'm in Nacrene City. Really? Well, maybe we can have dinner. Yeah, sure, Cheren, good luck with that. Um… is it all right if I call you back? I'm, um… Yeah. Bye!" She slipped it back into her bag. "Sorry," she said, reaching for her Pokédex.

N caught her hand once more, but this time, he didn't linger there; smoothly he slipped the Pokédex from between her fingers and opened it. "So," he said quietly as he browsed Pokémon data. His fingers shook with the effort of holding it still instead of slamming it into the hard cobblestones below. "You plan to… confine many Pokémon in Pokéballs, many that won't even know you, just to fill another slot on this machine."

White snatched her Pokédex back. "That's not what it's about! It's about learning more about them because we care about them. They're our friends."

"I would think you would want to give your friends the best, would you not? Freedom?"

"I…"

"You asked who I was to do anything about this," N said. "You're right. I am not strong enough yet. My friends and I… we don't yet have the power to create the right equation, the equation to save the world. We need more power… Power to make everyone see the truth. And I know where I will find it. Reshiram."

White frowned and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Not… the hero's Reshiram?"

"The very same. The hero who created Unova in partnership with Reshiram. I will befriend Reshiram, and I, too, will be able to create a new world… Reshiram will be the last Pokémon to ever be confined. And I have a feeling, when such a time comes… you could be there, White. Perhaps you and I will be friends, in this new world."

White stood up so suddenly that she knocked her chair backwards, but neither of them reacted to the resulting crash. Heads turned, and whispers broke out in the patio; White's cheeks turned pink as she looked fleetingly at all the other patrons, all watching her. N rose slowly. When she passed him, trying to hurry away, N caught her arm, keeping her momentarily close. Her eyes flashed up to meet his. She jerked her shoulder to free herself.

"Thanks for the coffee," she said quietly. "I'll…"

She trailed off with another awkward glance at the curious crowd. But there was no hate in her eyes when she looked at him once more. When she departed, N's heart was pounding inexplicably, staring after her as she walked away, her head high and her back straight.