Because I'm still kind of upset about the ending.

This is also on AO3! It is now complete as of 8/17 so I figured I should post it here, too.

xxxx

It's strange.

In the beginning when he'd first met the electric mouse, Tim never would have expected that he'd actually miss him and his annoying voice once Mewtwo changed him back into his father.

His father. Pikachu had been his father all along, and of course they have the same voice...but it just wasn't the same. He still can't believe that he hadn't recognized the voice of his own dad.

He guesses that's what years of not talking or seeing each other does to an already-strained relationship.

It's only been about three days since he and Pikachu had thwarted Howard's plan to merge people with their Pokémon, yet it feels longer. It seems like no one remembers that particular part of the plan; only that Howard had done something awful by experimenting on Pokémon, and he wasn't about to try and remind them. He's pretty sure Harry doesn't remember a thing about being merged with Pikachu, either, judging by the way he'd been so confused about wanting coffee all of a sudden.

His father is back to normal in his original human body, and that was the way it should be.

So why does he still miss him? Why does he have the horrible thought that deep down, he just wants the smaller, yellow detective back?

'Normal' Pikachu is with him in his childhood room, curled into a ball at the end of the bed. He peeks an eye open as if he can feel Tim staring at him.

"You can understand what I'm saying, right?" Tim asks softly so as not to startle him too badly out of his slumber.

Pikachu tilts his head curiously, confirming to Tim what he feared. Detective Pikachu would have responded instantly.

"Well...maybe not understand actual words. But you know what I'm feeling, right?" Tim asks, just to be sure.

Just like the Bulbasaur herd that had led them to Mewtwo for help. Now that he knows the truth, it's crazy to think that's all the psychic had wanted to do; he's forever grateful to Mewtwo for bringing his father back safe and sound, and Pikachu just as much.

"Pika!" Pikachu himself chirps happily in response, jumping up and placing his two front paws on Tim's lap. He nuzzles Tim's shoulder gently with his nose, glancing up at him with a bright smile like he knows what Tim is thinking.

Tim smiles in return, albeit with a sad one. He reaches for the tiny detective hat he'd left next to his bed where he would always be able to see it, placing it carefully in between Pikachu's ears.

The Pikachu glances up towards his forehead, his eyes lighting up with joy that it's back where it belongs...but Tim isn't sure that this was the right Pikachu to be wearing it.

"I wish I could still understand you. I wish..."

I wish he was still here, Tim finishes the thought. It's wrong, but he can't seem to help it.

He has to tell himself that they are the same—his father and Detective Pikachu are the same person. He might not be merged into a Pikachu body now, but he's still the same Pikachu he'd known, even as a human.

"Hey, kid."

Tim tenses for a moment, half expecting that when he turns around, he'll see another certain Pikachu with a hat.

But all he sees is his human father standing by the bedroom door—the way it's supposed to be.

Tim cringes. How long had he been standing there? Did he hear him talking with Pikachu?

"You want to get a coffee before leaving?" Harry asks, almost tentatively as if he's afraid of asking at all.

You want to get a coffee? Detective Pikachu's words echo through Tim's mind. He would never be able to sit down and not think of him, especially as his dad enjoyed a cup. They had shared so many similarities, yet he still hadn't picked up on the signs.

"I..." Tim hesitates, glancing down at normal Pikachu. The electric mouse's smile seems to fade as he attempts to come up with something reasonable to say, if only to make it sound like he's not trying to avoid his own father. "I kind of have to get going, Dad. It's not really professional to just quit your job without any kind of notice."

Two weeks was always preferred, but he had just up and left. He'd intended to go back home after saying goodbye to a father he'd originally believed was dead, but then he'd run into another certain detective who had convinced him that Harry wasn't dead. He'd never even bothered to let his boss know or use any vacation time.

Well, there went that promotion; he's lucky he hasn't actually been fired, the company being understanding of his family emergency situation. He just needs to go back and gather his things, and maybe say goodbye to one or two co-workers he had said hi to at least once every day in the morning. He doesn't want to leave a bad impression.

Harry nods in agreement, but Tim can still see disappointment lining his face, and he feels terrible.

"We better get going," Tim says. He can't be late for the train, or else he'd be stuck in Ryme City another day when he needed to take care of things before coming back—because he was. He was just going for a few days, and then he would be back with his father and Pikachu again.

They could get to know each other better while working as detectives like he'd suggested, and then maybe he could even consider...staying? For good? But only if that's what he really wanted, as his father had assured him. He doesn't have to stay, but he really does want to try.

Getting up from the bed, Tim nods towards Pikachu for him to follow.

"Pika, pika!" he squeaks eagerly, leaping off the bed to scamper besides him.

The disappointed look on Tim's face is enough to send a bit of worry shooting through Harry. Had he missed something?

"You know you can always talk to me, right?" he asks uncertainly.

Like I used to with him, Tim can't help but think.

"I do, Dad. I really do," he reassures his father with a smile, though he can't help but feel it's a little strained. If Harry noticed, he doesn't say anything.

"Well...we should get going, then. I wouldn't want you to leave anything left undone back home," Harry says before following behind Tim.

His son turns around suddenly for a moment, eyes hopeful about...something. Whatever that something was, Harry isn't sure.

"Hey, Dad?"

He pauses behind Pikachu, eyes glinting with hope that just maybe, Tim wants to go for that coffee at the last second.

"Do you remember anything...weird from the last few days?" Tim asks, and Harry's stomach sinks.

All he can do is shake his head, unsure of what kind of disappointment he'd be bringing his son.

"What do you mean?"

So he really doesn't remember a thing.

Tim shakes his head. "Never mind."

Harry only watches as Tim prepares to leave, heading towards the apartment door.

"Pika," Pikachu whispers, standing next to his partner and staring up at Harry with sad eyes. He glances back down at him, and the detective can't help but feel the mouse knows something he doesn't; he wishes he could understand.

What's wrong, Tim? You can tell me, he wants to say, but he had already said something. He doesn't want to pry, fearful of possibly pushing his son away again.

xxxx

Harry stands with his son at the station while they wait. He wants to say something to try and break the awkward silence, but he honestly can't think of anything clever or meaningful.

"I'll be back soon," Tim finally says to break the awkward silence.

Harry nods. He has to reassure himself that his son isn't leaving permanently; he's going to come back. He doesn't know for how long, but Tim wants to stay with him. He actually wants to stay, and that was quite a difference from when he'd first tried to get him on the train to come live with him. Whatever had happened that caused them to be brought back together, he's grateful even if he can't remember.

"I have to get things ready for you here too, so...this is a good start."

He needed to get everything ready so that Tim could begin his work as a detective. The weird thing was that when Tim had first suggested the idea, the mouse had seemed more excited than he was at the thought of his son following in his footsteps. He also has to make sure his apartment is more suited for his son now that he's older; he'd call Tim later and ask if it would be okay to get rid of the Pikachu ears.

"You want to take him with you?" Harry asks, nodding down towards Pikachu himself.

Tim pauses for a moment, and Pikachu's ears twitch. He gazes up at Tim, tilting his head to the side in the most adorable way possible.

"You really mean it?" Tim asks, just to be sure.

It wouldn't be the same as he imagines talking with Pikachu on the train, only to receive no response. He doesn't care that other people would look at him like he's crazy. He can't understand Pikachu anymore, but he could try when no one was looking.

"Thanks, Dad," Tim answers, kneeling down to Pikachu's level. "You want to come with me? We'll be right back."

Pikachu's eyes brighten, and his ears perk up.

"Pika!" the fluffy creature squeaks in excitement at the idea of traveling with his partner's son. Of course he'd already done it once before, but Tim has to wonder if he truly remembers; he knows for sure that his father doesn't. This might not be the same Pikachu, but he could use the company anyway no matter how much it hurt.

"See you soon, Dad," Tim says fondly when the train arrives—a moment too soon for his father.

But Harry knows it's going to be okay as they embrace, because everything was back to normal.

Everything was as it should be.

xxxx

Relief pours into Tim when he sees that thankfully, there's not another Lickitung on the train, or even the same one that had given his face a good lick when he'd first arrived in Ryme City.

"Jack is going to be so surprised when he sees you with me," he says as he takes his seat. The smile never leaves Pikachu's face, and the yellow bundle sits up so he can look out the window.

From denying for so long that he needed a Pokémon and failing to catch a Cubone, Jack would probably be over the moon that he'd finally found a partner.

If Jack was still even there. He'd been planning on leaving like everyone else, after all. He was the last person to stay.

But he's not my partner anymore, Tim has to remind himself about Pikachu. He's my father's partner again, now.

Maybe he could go back and try to find that Cubone, though Tim isn't sure if he would be able to live with a Pokémon that had tried to kill him twice—the second time technically being that crazy Ditto that almost made him fall off the ledge. Still...

He's brought back to reality when he feels something soft crawling slowly into his lap as the train begins to move; he doesn't really mind.

"Is your Pikachu alright?"

Taken from his thoughts, Tim looks to the side to see a lady sitting across from them, her expression concerned. He looks back down towards his father's partner, and doesn't notice anything wrong at first until Pikachu glances up at him.

"Pi...ka..." the Pokémon groans weakly.

Frowning, Tim takes a closer look at Pikachu. He assumes at first that the Pokémon is just sad he's leaving Harry, but then he sees the way his eyes are droopy and that he's not really sitting up straight.

The poor thing didn't look too good, like he hadn't gotten much sleep all of a sudden and was fighting to stay awake. Weird; he'd been just fine when they first got on the train only moments ago.

"Hey, Pikachu, are you alright?" Tim repeats the lady's question to him in a whisper, concerned. He doesn't care that she's probably looking at him like he's crazy—like he thinks Pikachu will respond to him with actual words.

"Pi..." Pikachu responds slowly. He glances up slowly towards his partner's son, his strained face not looking any better, and Tim's worry deepens.

"You might have to take him to the Pokémon Center when we arrive," the lady suggests, and Tim shrugs uncertainly.

"I think he just has an upset stomach. Maybe he ate something he wasn't supposed to this morning," he comes to the conclusion, though he doesn't see how. He'd been with him all morning.

He continues staring down at Pikachu, watching for any other signs of illness. "Think you can hold on until we get there?"

Pikachu is just barely able to glance up at him for a moment before turning his head away, though Tim can see his eyes close. He doesn't press him any further so he can get some rest.

But if he didn't feel better by the time they arrived, Tim would take him to the Pokémon Center.

He doesn't want anything bad to happen to his father's partner.

Not after everything they'd gone through.

xxxx

One minute he'd been driving, and then the next...it's all blank. He can't recall anything from the time when he'd blacked out in the car and then waking up—to him what felt like only minutes later.

Tim actually being happy to see him was quite a surprise—a nice one at that—and almost made up for his missing memories. He thought about going to the doctor, but then decided against it. He feels fine otherwise, and Tim hadn't seemed to notice anything odd about him; there was just the sad way he looked at him for some reason.

Why? It's like he looked at him and saw someone else, and the reminder made him sad. But Tim hadn't mentioned anyone joining him on his journey to solve his disappearance except Lucy Stevens, the reporter he'd recently met, but he was saving Tim the awkwardness by not asking anything more about her. All he knows is that she does her job well, reporting to everyone in Ryme City about the wrong that Howard Clifford had committed.

He'd experimented on Pokémon.

Somehow, he feels connected to the case. But for some reason, he just can't remember.

He can't remember anything aside from driving, blacking out, and then waking up back in his apartment like nothing happened, the most shocking thing being that his Pikachu and Tim had been there waiting for him, both looking equally concerned yet relieved that he was okay. Of course, the person who seemed most surprised had been Lieutenant Yoshida when the man saw that he was alive and well after being convinced that he'd been dead for so long.

The case was closed.

Happy tears had been shed, he'd apologized for hardly ever being there, and they even hugged. But after that? Harry isn't sure what had gone wrong. Things seemed to be going well at first, but then...Tim had just shut himself out again, and Harry has a bad feeling that it has something to do with him.

He opens the door to his apartment. It's quiet, almost too quiet without his Pikachu trailing behind him like he normally does, but he welcomes the silence that allows him to think.

The first thing he decides to do is make himself a coffee—still one of the only things he's been able to think about, for some weird reason—and sits at his desk to try and comprehend the mess that he still needs to clean up. Whether that mess meant all the papers littered on his desk or making things right with Tim, he isn't sure.

He brings the coffee to his mouth to take a sip, unprepared for a strange voice that enters into his mind without warning.

"Put down the stapler, or I will electrocute you."

Harry gasps, grabbing the desk with a hand to try and recollect himself. The coffee spills over all the papers, much to his dismay, but that doesn't seem as important at the moment.

What just happened? What was that voice? But before he can even begin to process the strange and unexpected occurrence, it happens again with almost no warning just like the first time.

"It's my father's place! That's why I was there, why were you there?"

"...You're Harry's son?"

What's happening? Harry has no choice but to question again, his head swimming. Why was he seeing blurry images in his mind like this? He can't exactly make them out very well, the strongest color he can make out being yellow.

"Then how do you know you're a detective?"

"Well, I can feel that in my jellies!"

His stomach cramps, and he has to hold it tenderly with both hands as the burning pain intensifies. He gets up from his seat, rushing towards the bathroom to avoid making another mess that he doesn't want to have to clean up.

"I'm not here to find my father, I'm here to say goodbye!"

"Hey, there's no one to say goodbye to!"

Harry sighs in relief as the images begin to subside, but the pain in his stomach doesn't leave.

It only gets worse, forcing him to lightly squeeze his sides to try and fight the awful burning sensation until it finally disappears along with the headache and weird 'flashbacks' if that's what they could even be considered. He was having a tough time remembering what had happened from the time he'd driven, blacked out, and then woke up in his apartment. Tim hadn't really told him anything he might have known.

Who had been talking? It sounded like Tim, but who had he been talking to? Was it the little, yellow blob he could barely make out?

The weirdest part was that it sounded just like him.

His voice.

Harry doesn't understand, the confusion only growing and getting worse.

What are jellies? That particular question doesn't seem as important, but it's still confusing; probably slightly more confusing than the rest of the questions he has.

Looking up at the bathroom mirror, he's shocked by how it suddenly seems like he hasn't had any sleep for days, which is partly true. He's just glad the images and burning pain in his stomach are gone, at least for now...he hopes they won't come up again.

Maybe it was something I ate.