First of all, this is slash. If two loving adults who happen to be of the same sex offend you, you probably shouldn't read this. I noticed that RoarkxRiley is a rare pair and that makes me sad, so welcome to Haganeshipping hell. Follows mostly video game canon, but with some Black 2 stuff and an alternate continuity of Ruby thrown in the mix (if that makes sense... eh, you'll see!). Rating's subject to change, but it's T for now, mostly for language and subjects that are... unsavory in polite conversation.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon. But, man, it would be sweet if I did.

Strange House

or,

Stopping Short of Perfection

Rin Fang

Chapter 1: Letters to Riley

Roark

I have always and forever will maintain that Rock-Type Pokémon are my favorites, but I can't help but beam from ear to ear when Pelipper arrives at my PO Box with the mail. It's not so much the Water Bird I care for—it's what it represents.

For the past few months, the post office has been the only place I've shown myself besides the gym, Oreburgh mines, maybe the Sinnoh Underground on occasion, and a select few other places.

Pelipper's mail is the highlight of my day, and by the time I unlock my PO box my arms are trembling with excitement. Then comes the sinking feeling I get, then the fear that he might have forgotten me as I rifle through a mountain of useless magazines and troublesome bills, and finally the burst of joy when I finally catch a glimpse of the envelope with the familiar seal on it.

My heart pounds at a million miles an hour as I race on home to my apartment, only offering a wave in return to my coworkers as they greet me on the streets. My lungs burn with the acrid mining town air, but it feels refreshing to me, in a way. Down to earth, I guess. Old, somewhat decrepit buildings loom above me, the only modern architecture in the sooty place the Pokémon Center and the Mart.

Oreburgh is an old, blue-collar sort of city. Most of the people here are involved with the mines in some way, including me. It's a life of hard labor and little pay, but the citizens here are modest, honest folk. This is my home, and I will stay here no matter how smoggy the pollution gets (well, it's gotten better since most of the mine machinery was replaced by the help of a tribe of friendly Machop, so I think I can rest easy).

The building my apartment is in is almost a hundred years old, and an elevator has never been installed. I run up three flights of steps, and by the time I reach my room I'm wheezing and my knees are knocking together with trepidation. I can barely fit the key in the hole—my hands are trembling too much—and I slam the door shut and lock it when I do get inside.

My apartment is messy. My equipment and clothes are strewn all about, and my bag blocks the entrance to the bathroom. Paper plates are in the sink for some reason, and an incubator with two Cranidos eggs in them blocks off a whole section of the hallway. There are shelves everywhere, cluttered with books and papers and Poke Balls, and my lead Pokémon and friend, Rampardos, is sleeping on the couch, torn up and sputtering out cotton stuffing from where his claws and spikes pierced the material. The only thing organized in the whole place is my fossil collection shelf, a shining beacon in a Tepigsty. A desk lamp illuminates it, and the various beautiful patterns of the fossils cast complex shadows on the floor.

Without waking Rampardos, I race to my bed. It's somehow even worse than my apartment, scattered with yet more papers. They're all written on, notes in the margins and slashes made through sentences with pen. Half of the letters are written in red ink, and the other half is written in blue. I have at least forty more of these letters in my desk drawer, but these ones are my favorites.

In red ink, are copies of my correspondences to him.

In blue ink, are his replies.

And I treasure every word.

Before I open the newest letter, I begin my nightly ceremony of reading my previous favorites. I start at the first one he ever sent me. His handwriting is cramped and kind of swirly, almost illegible even, but I can make it out:

Hello, Roark!

How are you doing? I haven't seen you in years. I hope you are well. I dearly regret missing you at the Survival Zone when you were at the Battle Frontier a couple weeks back. As I'm sure you can attest to, work unfortunately comes before friends in this society we live in, and what I thought would be a simple commission to join challengers in double battles at the Battle Tower has turned into a life-consuming job! I'm certain you remember Lucas, right? The child has decided to become a Frontier Brain instead of the Sinnoh Champion. An odd choice, but I don't blame him. Champion is quite an exhausting duty. I'm helping to train him. Obviously, the boy is quite talented, but he needs to learn how to draw out the speed of a Pokémon. I understand Cranidos evolved recently? Lucario is still with me, but one day I found him clutching an egg! I guess he found a girlfriend… have you found a girlfriend yet, Roark? Your friend from Eterna City is cute. Anyway, I wish you luck on your position as Oreburgh Gym Leader and foreman of the mine. You have quite a bit to be proud of, young man.

Sincerely,

Riley

Riley can ask some rather invasive questions, but he means well. Smiling, I put down the letter, and pick another one up. My response:

Riley!

What compelled you to write so suddenly? Is Dad using you to spy on me again? Haha, just kidding, of course. It's great to hear from you, but you do have my Xtranceiver number, don't you? I would've liked to stay on the island a bit longer myself, but the lowest-tier gym leader always has the most challengers. It's a fact. Sometimes challengers even show up without making an appointment—I have to scramble all the way up from the mines to battle mode just for them. Lucas was one of these people, but he's a good kid. I guess he got to learn the system better eventually. It was embarrassing getting beaten by him the first time, but now that I have two years' perspective on it, I'm glad I could play part in preparing a prodigy such as him... still, had I my usual partners, I bet I would've crushed him first time around! Yes, Cranidos did evolve into Rampardos! He's not as cute as he used to be and he can't sleep in my bed anymore since he's too big, but he's still my best Pokémon. Oh well, I still have twenty Cranidos in the back of the gym if the mood to look at one ever strikes me. Don't you dare tease me! Gardenia and I are just friends… and it's not like you have a girlfriend either! Anyway, thank you. I've missed you. I hope to see you again someday.

Sincerely,

Roark

The next letter is his reply to mine:

Roarkie, Roarkie, Roarkie…

Do you always assume I'm just your father's little lackey? Believe me, if Byron had known half the things I let you get away with when I watched you as a kid, he would've had a coronary! As his friend, I can't let that happen to him, now can I?

Here he drew a little smiley face emoticon. I crack up at it, since it seems like silliness is the kind of thing he'd never do in real life, but I know him better than that.

No, I write to you because you are my friend as much as Byron is. You have grown into a fantastic young man and I embrace your friendship with open arms. Yes, I do have your number, but I prefer to write. After all, you can keep letters forever. You are far from a "low-tier gym leader," Roarkie. The level you work at might not be the highest, but you perform an honorable function—introducing young trainers to the professional world. Besides, when you're with your permanent team, I'm sure you're anything but weak! You're honestly not missing much not being at the island. The currency here—Battle Points—is inflated to all hell! You must fight seven trainers for three Battle Points… really now!? I'm glad I'm only doing this for the love of the job. I don't actually need the money, you see.

That's a no-brainer. He's a millionaire; maybe he has even more money than that. He comes from old wealth—the heir of Canalave Industrial, Sinnoh's biggest heavy industry conglomerate and main employer of the average lower middle-class workingman. It's mainly an iron milling business, but it has branches invested in other forms of energy, such as coal mining, which is my area of expertise. Canalave Industrial is so huge that it even has mills and processing plants in the region of Hoenn, and there's talk of expanding to Unova. Both my Dad and I are employees; him in the iron mills in Canalave City, and me in the coal mine of Oreburgh. To this day I have no idea why Riley decided to befriend but one of his thousands of employees and his young son, but most people can't bloody understand why he does what he does anyway. Maybe it's because he's a Pokémon trainer like us—and he's a damned good one at that. That's what I always figured.

Oh, okay, you got me! I don't have a girlfriend either, but you should keep looking—although most fish in the sea are Magikarp, you might just find a Feebas!

Your friend,

Riley

And I read through the letters like this, one by one. Slowly but surely the conversation deepens from lighthearted small talk and the letters take a darker tone. In these letters, I spill out my heart to him, and he listens. He never tells me any of his problems, but maybe he doesn't have any.

Riley is very secretive, but I like that about him.

And I'm not saying he's perfect, but he's kind of perfect.

Eventually I come to my letter from last night. It's been badly photocopied, so much that the words are harder to make out than Riley's handwriting:

Riley,

I don't know what to do anymore. I feel very tired. When I do get rest, I have nightmares. Last night I dreamed about a girl. She was looking for an Abra… she seemed so sad. She wandered through her house and found her Abra with her dad, and he was blathering terrible madness about being unable to escape his own nightmares. The Abra tried to eat his dreams, then, to make the nightmares go away, but he screamed and rose up like an angry wave. I've been having this dream a lot lately. But that's not important. Now I know why Dad first asked you to be the leader of Oreburgh Gym. I'm not cut out for this. I lose more battles than I win everyday, and I don't even care if I win or not anymore. Lately I haven't even been much interested in digging for fossils… am I just starting to hate Pokémon or what? If this keeps up, I'm sure the Sinnoh League will revoke my position, and really, the only reason I'd even fight to keep this job is to avoid Dad's admonishment. This makes me feel horribly selfish, like I have squandered your gift… I have no drive for anything. Maybe I ought to be a scientist instead of a Gym Leader. I think it's possible I may have wasted my life on arbitrary hobbies and I'm just realizing that now. I don't know. Riley, please call me. I value your words but I need to hear your voice again. Please don't take this the wrong way. Every word I read of yours makes my heart pound and my cheeks flush. Your letters fill me with an indescribable anxiousness but overwhelming happiness, even despite these bitter things I write. I never knew how much I valued you as a friend until you wrote me. Thank you, Riley. I don't know what I'm feeling, but I need you.

Love,

Roarkie

And really, who knew that these sad words could bring me so much happiness? Despite my insecurities, despite my exhaustion, I know I have a friend somewhere. This letter is probably the messiest of all of them; I cross out sentences and scribble over words madly to hide them.

Finally, the moment of truth comes. I open his newest letter and savor every word, every stroke that he made with his pen.

Oh, Roarkie…

We all get lost in life sometimes. You are young yet, and the young often don't know what to do with themselves… half the time I don't know what to do with my life either! There is a world beyond mining and Pokémon battles. Contrary to popular belief, not being a trainer does not make you useless. You are a smart person, Roark—explore your interests and feel the world with a new perspective! I also refuse to believe there's such a thing as an "arbitrary hobby." We would all go mad if we didn't have anything we cared about, regardless of how silly it may seem—wouldn't you agree? I recommended you as a Gym Leader because I saw true potential in you. I partially also refused the position because I'm established, but more than anything I want to see you fly. However, did you know that Gym Leader burnout is rather common? Don't feel you'd ever be squandering that opportunity I gave to you—if anything; I should be indebted to you for taking the whole Gym Leader thing off my hands. I'd go insane if I had to settle down. No, sir, I'm not ready for that yet! I'll be honest; it hurts me to know that you're feeling such depression, but it also makes me happy to know that you trust me enough to tell me. Roarkie, I doubt that you could ever hate Pokémon. Even when you were a kid and was vehemently against training to be a Gym Leader, you loved playing with the wild Pokémon when you visited me on Iron Island. Do not let that spark of passion fade, Roark, even if you ultimately decide not to be a trainer.

I'll be frank. Byron will be disappointed, but you are his son. It might not seem like it sometimes, but he loves you to death, and ultimately, he will accept you and your life choices for what they are. I can vouch for this. He's always talking about you. Sometimes the things he says are less than complimentary, but he mostly gushes about you. And in my opinion, he has every right to.

I think you are fantastic. I know I can trust you to overcome any hurdle. You did help defeat Team Galactic two years ago, didn't you? Without your kick-start, Lucas would have never succeeded… but this isn't about Lucas. I am honored beyond any words to have you as my friend. I believe you'll shine no matter what, but you must keep that flame of passion alive!

Don't fret. You'll get to see me very soon.

Love,

Riley

P.S. Don't feel silly telling me about your dreams! That one you had sounds quite worrisome indeed! I need some more time to think about it though, so I apologize for not addressing it tonight.

I take a deep breath and squeeze his letter close to my heart.

Riley is kind.

Riley understands.

Riley is my friend… Riley is my friend!

My trembling reduces to a light shaking, but still it's hard for me to write as I pen my reply:

Riley…

You make my head spin.

RING!

I snap back into reality and reach for my Xtranceiver in my back pocket. It rings once, twice, each time louder and more desperate, it seems. My heart skips a beat and I pick it up.

My Xtranceiver wallpaper is of Riley when I last saw him, four years ago. He's standing with me outside a park, and I'm smiling from ear to ear. Rampardos-neé-Cranidos is in my arms, and Riley's Lucario is wrapped around his leg. Dad took the photo, I remember.

Maybe it's him! Maybe he really did call! I press a button and read the number on the caller ID.

And my heart sinks.

It's Volkner.

He's been calling me thirty times every day since it happened.

I haven't returned any of his calls yet.

Immediately my happiness fades away and I curl my lips in disgust. A knot forms in my stomach and I get off the bed, and I walk to the mirror, and I look at myself.

I'm so tired.

People say I have bright eyes but the lights are out now, and my normally well-kept hair is a ginger mess. Riley's words leave me and again I'm filled with doubt and apathy, and…

Someone knocks at the door.

"Hey, Roark!" calls a familiar voice from the great beyond. "Get your scrawny arse out of bed and let me in!"

I sigh and compose myself, and I answer the door. In the hallway stands a short girl with a weird orange and black bowl cut. She wears a black turtleneck, forest green cape and cutoff capris. Her amber eyes twinkle with mischief and she grins, holding a bag up to my nose.

"Hey, Roarkie!" greets Gardenia in a singsong voice. She points her finger at me playfully and skips right in. "Oh, what's that?" She indicates the incubator. "Are you finally raising something other than ugly Rock-Types?"

"Yeah, thanks for the advance notice that you're visiting, Gardenia," I answer sarcastically, hiding any indication of my mood. "And no. Those belong to the other trainers at the gym. Grass-Types suuuuuuuuuck, by the way. Rock-Types have good offense, and are great additions to teams to get victories, not that you'd know with your wimpy little radishes and stuff. And they're not ugly. I think Cranidos is adorable. Just look at those stubby little arms. Awwwww."

"God, you're weird. Oh, it. Is. On! Rock-Types are weak to Grass-Types, for your information, Fossils Glasses! And it's called 'Oddish,' not 'radish,' idiot." She lightly punches my stomach and sticks her tongue out at me. "To show you the superiority of the Grass Pokémon, I challenge you to a battle right now!" She takes the stance she does when challenging opponents at her gym in Eterna City. Being bombastic is part of the job.

"Not right now."

"Wow. Lame. Anyway, I brought you some dinner. I got poffins for Rampardos, too!"

"Why?" I raise an eyebrow.

Gardenia laughs and acknowledges the mess around us. "Because you have no idea how to take care of yourself and your dear, dear friend Gardenia is kind enough to not let you rot!" She waltzes to the kitchen and opens the pantry. "Exhibit A: Roarkie's pantry. Instant ramen. Potato chips. Soda pop. Great diet! Exhibit B: the rest of your apartment." She stops when she sees the fossil case and bursts into laughter. "Ahahaha, oh Arceus, are you still obsessed with your little fossil thing? They might call you 'Roark the Rock,' but maybe a better name for you would be 'Roark the Dork!'"

"Because 'Master of Vivid Plant Pokémon' is so cool, too. Seriously, why are you here?"

"I actually just wanted to tell you about my trip to Unova. I didn't make it into the Pokémon World Tournament finals, but I saw a lot of the gyms there. They're like you wouldn't believe! You could take a few lessons from them. Your gym is pretty shitty."

"At least mine's functional. Mine doesn't have a stupid, non-sequiter gimmick like clocks. Clocks! In a Grass gym! I liked your gym better before the renovations."

"Don't talk to me like you know crap about design, Helmet Hair."

This is the core of our relationship. Gardenia insults me, and then I insult her back. We mercilessly harpoon each other, but that's the point. Our spats are just for show. Gardenia is one of my best friends, even if she does like the worst Type.

"Anyway, can we eat? Here, Rampardos! Catch!"

Rampardos is awake now, no doubt stirred by the commotion, and he snaps up the poffin Gardenia throws at him.

"I hope you like salad. You're probably not familiar with the concept of vegetables since you're always too busy to feed yourself properly, but it's good. Roark the workaholic, that's you. Roarkaholic. Hey… don't groan! Okay, groan. That was pretty bad…"

I get out some paper plates and forks and she serves the salad. It's spinach, lettuce, and carrots with vinaigrette. There are also curly noodles in it. It's much better than instant ramen, but I won't give her the satisfaction of her knowing it.

We chew a bit, and Gardenia talks a bit. We chew a lot, and Gardenia talks a lot. I can't get a word in edgewise, but Unova sounds interesting. Apparently there are Pokémon there that can't be found anywhere else.

The evening goes well.

That is, until the stupid Xtranceiver rings again.

It rings once. It rings twice. Five times.

Gardenia says, "Aren't you going to get that?"

I shake my head.

Gardenia says, "It's Volkner, isn't it?"

… So that's what this is about. I knew she wouldn't come all the way out from Eterna City just to shoot the crap. I flip open the Xtranceiver, and it's Volkner all right.

"What's Flint been putting you up to?"

I should've known she'd join the dark side.

Gardenia raises an eyebrow and sets down her fork. The Xtranceiver is still ringing. Suddenly, she lunges out and wrestles the phone from my hands, pressing talk against my will.

"Hello… oh, hi, Volkner!" she starts casually over the receiver. "Yes… yes, this is Gardenia. No, you didn't call the wrong number. This is Roark's Xtranceiver. Uh-huh… yeah, actually, he's sitting in front of me right now. I think he'll finally talk to you." She smirks triumphantly and holds the phone out. I grab it away from her and scowl. On the other end, I hear Volkner take a nervous breath.

I hang up and throw the Xtranceiver across the room.

Gardenia's jaw hangs loose and she shakes her head in disbelief. "Seriously? Seriously?" Her tone is distressed, now, and she folds her arms, curling her lip in disapproval. "That was a major dick move. And the Golden Dick Award goes to Roark for his astounding achievement in douchery!"

"None of your business!" I snap. I rise and fold my arms as well, challenging her. "You don't even know Volkner that well! Why the hell do you care what happened?"

"Sinnoh's League is more tight-knit than you think! Okay, then, look at it this way: it's not for Volkner's sake, it's for yours!" She beans me on the head. "If you want to know, I saw Flint at the PWT, and he was all like…" She puffs her hair, trying to imitate his Afro, "'Yo, Gardenia, you live close to Roark, right? Volkner's being all emo again because he's not returning any of his calls. Go on over to Oreburgh and see what's up, 'kay?' And I was wondering why my normally nice and sweet friend was being a douche. No friend of mine is allowed to be a douche!"

"I can take care of my own problems," I hiss. By now she's surpassed the point of being just annoying to outstaying her welcome.

Gardenia's hands move to her hips and her voice rises, dropping all pretenses of fake cheer. "Oh, really? You think you can, now do you? You think you can solve your own problems when these days all you're doing is staying at home? I've heard how much you're losing, lately. You haven't made the effort to even call anybody, everybody thinks you're dead, and you look like a complete wreck. See? Even Rampardos is worried about you!" She gestures to Rampardos, his head cocked and eyes full of concern.

"Rampa…" he gargles.

Gardenia takes a deep breath and sits back down, massaging her temples. "Look, did you guys have a fight or something? What happened?"

"Nothing happened!"

Like she's going to buy that.

"Look, I've just been really busy lately, okay?"

"So you can't talk to your friend for five minutes…" She moves to the bed and picks up a letter. My eyes widen. "But you can write all these letters? Who's this person you're so obsessed with?" She turns the letter over so I can see some blue text. "Is this Riley poisoning your mind or something?"

That's the last straw.

I lunge toward her and rip the letter from her hands, bearing my teeth. I get between the bed and her and snarl, "Don't you dare talk about him that way… And don't you read another word!"

"Whoa." Her expression shifts from frustration and concern to slight fear. She puts her hands up in surrender. "You're acting so weird lately, Roarkie." Her voice trembles.

No. Don't cry.

"Hey." I fix my tone as much as possible and let my stance relax. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm being a weird jerk. And I am a douche. I gladly accept the Golden Dick Award. I would like to thank the Academy."

"Oh, come on," she says after a bit, regaining her composure. "You're not normally a douche. I'm not mad at you," and her voice calms down as well. "I mean, you didn't do anything to me, and it probably was wrong of me to pry. But I'm just trying to look out for you. I don't know what happened between you and Volkner, but the only way you're ever going to make it any better is if you talk to him."

She doesn't know what she's talking about, but I've already been a complete little shit tonight. I just nod and tell her what she wants to hear. "You win this round, Gardenia. I'll call him sometime, I promise. It's just that…" My hands ball into fists and I break eye contact with her. "I can't face him right now." My volume quiets down several notches, and then she knows.

"Oh…" she starts out nervously. "Did Volkner… do something to you?"

I nod again. Sate her curiosity, but be vague.

"He did something bad to you, didn't he? I can see it in your eyes."

Well. Sort of. It's a difficult situation. I don't give her an answer either way. I just stand there. I kind of want to tell her what happened, but even I can't face the truth. I don't even feel secure telling Riley.

"He's not the whole problem," I continue honestly. "These last few months have gone down pretty badly for me."

"That bad, huh? You wanna talk about it?"

I shake my head. "No, I'll be okay."

"Is your hand giving you trouble?"

I nod and flash my scarred right hand at her. Three months ago I was in a mining accident that left me with a pickaxe splintering the bone where it stabbed me. The doctors said I was lucky to have a hand at all after that ordeal, much luckier to have had it fully recover, but there's a constant aching in it now. Still, it's humiliating that the mine safety supervisor couldn't even protect himself.

"Yeah, that sucks. Take some painkillers or something. Well…" Gardenia pauses thoughtfully. "Getting back to Volkner, I think that if he's calling you so much, then he really wants to apologize. Give him a second chance, okay? I know how stubborn you can be, Roarkie." She forces a smile and ruffles my hair.

If he wants to apologize so much, he can damn well say it to my face, but I don't want to worry her anymore, so I smile as well.

"All right, I'll see what I can do."

"That's the spirit!" She pumps her fist. "Anyway, I'm sleepy. I'd better be getting home now. Also, are you mad at me?"

"No."

And that's the truth. I'm really not mad at her anymore. I feel more tired than anything else.

"Good!" She smiles.

"And thanks for the food."

"No problem, junkfood-ivore! You get out more often now, okay, and come see me sometime! And don't get too obsessed with your new boyfriend."

"Ha-ha, screw you. Riley's just my Dad's friend and my old babysitter. He insists on writing letters because he's old-fashioned as hell and refuses to let me grow up. Fine, I'll come to Eterna sometime soon."

"I've got you trained so well." She winks at me and runs off, calling over her shoulder as she descends the steps. "And you'd better keep your promises or I'll have to humiliate you in a Pokémon battle again!"

"Except I'll win!"

With that, I slam the door shut and breathe a sigh of relief. That's enough excitement for one night. Rampardos, sensing that we've made up, curls back up on the couch. Now that I'm alone, I walk to my bed, grab my pen, and pick up where I left off.

It is quiet here in Oreburgh. Below the sooty skies, all is calm.

Pelipper's mail delivery is the height of my day.

As a final word of note, I'm brand new to this fandom (only been playing the games a few months, oi), so if you see any inaccuracies here, please don't hesitate to point 'em out! I know I took some... uh, liberties with Gardenia, but the only thing I've ever been able to gauge out of her personality from canon sources is that she really, really digs plants. I like to imagine her as the meddling and energetic, yet true sort of friend. Merci for reading, and adieu!