I'LL CALL YOU

SILVER

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is going to be much more widespread than the original, so I'll say it. Yes, the original. I did a version of this before a couple months ago back when my interest in writing was at its newborn stages on ffnet. The story got much more positive feedback than any other story of mine even to this day; yet my inner editor hates it. There's so much more that could be done with it. So, as a side-project for my fits of Writer's Block for Sinnoh Stories: The Legend of Volkner (previously known as Great Favor – Volkner's story). If you've yet to read it and like this first chapter, give it a look because it IS still my main project.

Enjoy reading -

[[Chapter 1: Gift]]

If there was a word to describe Silver at this place in time, it would have been "desperate", though not at all in a humorous way. If he were to summarize himself though, he would have said "just fine".

But he knew it not to be true. He only held one thought on his mind for all of the day in recent times, but one who knew it would have had to admit it was logical; when one was happy for someone else it was simply how they felt.

"So, Blue..." he muttered. "I'm happy for you. Really. I wanted to give you this. Made personally by me." He then extended an empty hand, glaring at himself – with a self-consciousness he would normally never let show – in the mirror. He let loose a sigh. "Just not good enough!" he exalted, and turned around. He supposed he shouldn't be trying this just yet. After all, he hadn't even started on the gift.

Procrastination was a weakness of his when he was nervous. And when the situation wasn't life threatening and all. Now he had left himself with precisely three days to finish a week-long job, but he supposed the forces of his love would pull him through.

Brotherly love, of course. He wouldn't dare become romantically involved with her; he wasn't interested in it. Because brother-to-sister was all it would ever be.

He sat down at the chair close by the mirror and placed his hand upon the sewing machine, sliding the cloth underneath. He sighed once more as he thought back to the past they shared together; how he had met her and just what he had gone through with her. What gave them their unbreakable bond.

He was done for the day. His hands ached, despite their experience in physical activity; he had been working for hours, too lost in his own thoughts to even notice it. He hadn't even noticed the pain in his hands until he got to the point of unbearable. It was like he'd just gone on autopilot: the skirt was now done. He shook his hands as if it would help but, as he knew, it didn't. He was to go to bed now.

A mist took over the area and soon he was in another place.

His knees hit the ground with a soft thud, causing him to cry out. His entire body trembled as the holes in the knees of his pants caused his bare skin to touch ice, and in no metaphorical way. This was a literal frozen water on the floor. A chuckle occurred behind him, and he felt his hair be grasped by a frigid hand. Another one slammed down a metallic object on his face which he recognized through the eye-holes to be a mask.

He heard another voice.

"... Who is he?"

It was obviously female. It sounded a lot like his mama, innocent and soothing to him. It was like he had known her all his life and it had been two seconds since he even realized she was present.

Another lift into the skies of dreamland occurred. This time, he was opening his eyes to a dark room with a blurry vision. His body was moist with sweat and he came to the realization he was moaning. Then the blurred vision cleared away and Silver was in his own room again, something that would normally comfort him but instead disturbed him. He had a short nightmare with an enigmatic ending, and that was all he could recall.

He sat up and slid his legs to the side, slowly rising out of his bed. He cared not that he was naked from the waist up; it mattered not, as no one was around to see his thin chest, evidence of puberty evident in the hairs in between his nipples and the slight bulge of muscle all around. He reached up and smoothed out of his ragged red hair.

He walked out of the bedroom and began sewing again. His hands hurt, but he wouldn't stop 'till the shirt was done too.

Three days past. His hands still hurt a bit from the extensive work he had put into the sewing, but pain was something he was used to. He had to endure it an awful lot.

Now he was ready. It was the time of his life he viewed most important, to finally have done something to show his appreciation for her and the gifts she had given him. None were physical gifts either. She knew him better than that, to think material possessions mattered to him. He would be happy with nothing, and for most of his life he hadn't had anything.

Anything but her.

He supposed he was obsessed with her. To himself, he would gladly admit it. What person wouldn't be obsessed with her? She possessed a unique grace, an elegance to her movements and beauty in her body and soul. A wonderful girl who had done nothing but give to him.

He was going to give back.

He finished up the buttoning of his jacket, a black one with a red line down the center, one of those that you buttoned up by pressing one button with an extension into another with a depression. His ragged hair was smoothed out to the best appearance possible. As usual, he wore jeans. The only difference in his attire was the bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled briefly as he reached into his pocket and thrust forth his arm, pressing a thumb to the button on the ball in hand to send forth a ray of light which materialized into a black bird, its amber irises focusing on him. It seemed to understand, but Silver spoke commands either way.

"Murkrow. To Blue's house."

He hung onto the yellow talons of the bird, an experience all too familiar to him – only in his memory did he hang onto anything bigger, and in this he had wanted to drop.

One hour on the dot had passed, then Silver lowered Murkrow to the ground with a slight tug. He shook his hands once more like it would help the pain, then returned Murkrow with a press of the button in the center of the ball. He stuffed it in his pocket, and went to knock on the door.

With the force of his knock, he came to realize the door had been swiftly shut; leaving it barely closed, and the force made the door open. A sudden pang of doubt entered his mind then – she couldn't have left already, could she have? Her cruise was tomorrow. Nervously, he pressed on further, deciding he could take the embarrassment and possible anger from her if he walked in on something.

The lights were all turned off in the house. Its normally sea blue wallpaper was almost pitch black in the morning time's lack of illumination. Suddenly, his eyes focused upon a small splotch that made his heart begin to beat in his throat; even in the darkness he could tell that the wallpaper had a small splotch that stained it crimson. It was dried blood.

"Blue?" he called out, his voice a bit shaky. "Hello?"

He was in that house for about ten more minutes before he came upon the clue that set his fear in motion. He let loose a horrified, rasping gasp as he walked into Blue's room in desperation, noticing almost immediately in the bare light given by the window above the table which it sat upon... that cold metallic mask.

"... no," he whispered. "... no, no, NO!"

He turned around and walked out of the room, an icy chill sending itself down his spine.