In one hand are flowers in the other an umbrella. He's reminiscent of a scale ready to dip at any point to fall into an abyss of his own creation, but for now, the scale is stable. He watches for a moment complex emotions washing over him more than the rain ever could. He's swift in his movements, but silent in his approach. The woman would find herself pelted by the storm no longer, he'd take her place in this, the umbrella would find itself over her head. It is, in his eyes, the least he can do.

He's worse for wear, even under the shadows of his hood one could see bags and bruises alike if only in half measure. Truly the state of his body is deplorable, and so he's chosen to hide as much of it as he can.

"Hey...I" He pauses unclear on what exactly to say, And so he determines actions are more suitable.

Slowly with his free hand, he removes his coat revealing himself to the woman beaten and all. Cuts and bruises adorn him purple and black contrast against his dark skin.

There's worry on his face, "You shouldn't have waited in the rain, not without an umbrella at least You'll get sick."

Rain pelts him droplets sliding in and against his wounds following the grooves of his face before gravity drags each drop further down only to be absorbed into the blacks of his shirt.

He's surprised she isn't done with him, that her first instinct is concern as opposed to anger, The warrior Stormy Silph, worried about him a man who was so committed to taking away everything she loved. She reaches out to him and he resists grabbing her hand choosing to watch it recline, the hesitation is something he instilled in her. 'I don't deserve her' A thought that'd replayed between his mind and heart no less than a million times is played once again. The look in his eyes now isn't one of fear or panic both have long since left him, no there's a weariness now, a warrior with no battles left to fight but not quite willing to give up his blade.

"Hey Stormy, there's someone I'd like you to meet." The questions involving his wounds were overlooked entirely treated as if he hadn't heard him. "You'll learn everything along the way. I promise." Eyes move to the sky now as if to observe the droplets as they fell.

"You deserve that and so much more."

She agrees and for that he's thankful.

He leads her down a path he feels he hasn't walked enough, despite confidence that he could get to their destination blindfolded.

He's left with a new question, where does his story begin? Or rather for this audience where should he start it? For his unending verboseness, a man of a million words that could be said in five he cannot decide. The irony is almost palpable.

"A year ago my life changed, but I suppose this tale begins earlier."

"My mother is the strongest woman I've ever known. She was born in a body too frail for her personality. But despite that, she was this town's gym leader for 15 years. Over the course of those 15 years, she had and raised me. Never once until she absolutely had to did she ever even consider retiring." He can't help but laugh, those days watching her come home beaten from countless battles only to have her cook, play, and love him.

"And when she couldn't she fell hard. We lost a lot when she was deemed unfit to continue the gym. The league fed us to an extent. It's how we managed to keep our home, but for the cost of her treatments on top of my educatio-" he feels himself getting lost in the minutia of his life, "Life was tough after mom retired. And her son only made life tougher. I spent my youth rebelling, doing whatever I could to escape this place. Can you imagine living with someone, your son, who hated this place? A place you gave so much of your life fighting for daily; the home that you loved unconditionally? Dealing with this petulant child who dreamed solely of grander horizons, who was so content to let this place burn and die if it meant a shot at getting him out of here, and still having to provide for him, having to love him?"

He's shaking now whether it's from the cold or anger is unknown. But somehow the rain has lightened, or at least it has on him. The umbrella covers them both now to an extent.

"But she does. She does sit without ever complaining. She makes sure he's fed and clothed so he can continue his tantrums another day. But with age comes a modicum of wisdom and slowly he begins to realize how much she's done for him, how much he cares about her. In time he dedicates himself to making it easier for her. To make sure she doesn't have to worry about anything anymore."

"But that can't happen overnight. The resources needed to become the person he needs to be are expensive. Still, for her son's dreams, she makes it happen as she always did. Years pass and finally the money spent pays off, but not without taking its toll and more. My mother grew sicker in those years. Money for medicine went towards textbooks and tuition. Even so, he was finally in a place where we could turn the situation around.

And for a while I did." Wet shoes clatter against wetter stone. They near their destination now.

"I managed a job with Devon Corp, through them I was able to supplement our income. Their benefits allowed a plan where she finally received the facilities she'd lacked for years. She'd made more progress in months than I'd seen in years, real progress." You could hear his heart breakthrough his voice. His shoulders rise with his chest as it heaves unevenly. A hand steadies itself on a nearby tree before he pushing forward.

"We got caught in Slateport during the war. When Blacephalon came it blew us apart we didn't stand a chance."

When I regained consciousness I saw two things my mother impaled by shrapne and Fernando Silph. Protected by one of the creatures we pray. Guarded by a literal deity before ignoring us to fight. I screamed out. Begged for any kind of help, any kind of assistance. But people like us, don't matter in the grand scheme of things.

I spent an hour wandering the battlefield searching for any kind of assistance, begging the league stepping over bodies petitioning for help. But all in power cared to fight. No one had time for us, we were forgotten numbers, casualties to be counted later.

My mother never regained consciousness.

Still there was a chance to save her. If I just had the money, and I was so close Stormy. I was so damn close." He grits his teeth recalling his multitude of failures.

I spent the next months gathering funds. taking on whatever project I could, extra jobs whatever it took to save my mother's life. But in the aftermath of the battle. Devon was bought out by Silph and it was decided that my research wasn't deemed worth continuing. With no means of continuing my mother's treatment that's how her story ends.

Like a candle in the night.

Betrayed by a league that didn't care enough to watch after its veterans.
Betrayed by a system that couldn't keep its citizens safe.
Betrayed by a company that solely profited from its wars.

And
Betrayed by a son too stupid, and too weak to ever make the system work for him."

Finally, they've made it to their destination, a grave in a field of graves - all indistinct. This one Read 'Gloria Sharp' in some indistinguishable gothic font. This was the culmination of her life.

"When I buried her I made two promises to myself.

The first was I'd change the powers that be. I'd save as many as possible from ending up like me. To protect those that their protectors had betrayed in their ignorance. I'd use my knowledge to help build a region safe for everyone regardless of status.

The second was to completely and utterly, destroy the Silph name. The family that only served to gain as people died, I'd show those war profiteers what it truly felt like to be powerless, by any means necessary."

He lays the bouquet of yellow and white against her grave before finally turning to face Stormy, "Thus I joined an organization that I believed could help me do that." He steps away from the umbrella now choosing to submerge himself in the rain.

" Elite 4, and Elite Ranger Stormy Silph, My name is Miles Sharp, I'm a head scientist for Team Rocket." There's no joy in the reveal. There is want, there is pain and there is love.

The story had yet to truly end, but perhaps this is all she needs to hear.

What?

He'd come this far prepared to be put in cuffs, to be locked in the darkest cellar the league-owned, and it owned many. For the ruby-eyed woman to finally realize what he'd known since first laying eyes on her that night in Slateport. That she deserved better, more than he could ever provide.

She stands here at the precipice after all this, hearing his promise to kill not only her, but her cherished family. She still reaches out towards him, and through the falling rain, she says words he's thought to himself again and again.

"I love you."
He begins to break.

No longer can he resist her, pulling her body into his in a single instance. Fresh wounds burn and scream as wet bodies collide, but finally, finally he holds her -- arms glued against her back as bodies remain pressed together. It lacks the grace he's spent years honing, it's ugly and raw, but it is real. In the way, his body shivers and heaves on repeat, like drums in a song. She's become a leyline for his soul counteracting the ephemerality of his existence.

How long they remain in silence he cannot say, but eventually, his heart settles enough that he continues.

"It wasn't long after that I found myself on a job. Discontent with the world, doing whatever it took to accomplish the goals I set for myself prepared to die. I was a machine in a world that'd become a shell of itself.

In those moments, I met someone.

She was a spark at first, someone warm, easy to talk to. But in every second I spent with her I realized what I thought to be a spark was far brighter than I could scarcely conceive. A spark became a light, and a light was now an immortal flame." Even wet and cold he can still feel that fire deep in her core the warmth of her skin fighting against the frigid rain.

" In time she became my hope, what I believed humanity could be. Someone whose ideals, tenacity, kindness, and willingness to protect superseded even my own. At every point, I watched how hard she worked, how much of herself she gave to a world that never cared enough to give back. I fell in love with her. " His voice is almost a whisper now, barely louder than torrent consuming them.

I wanted... I wanted to be the arms that held her when she fell. A place to return to on the days the world she fought tooth and nail for became too inordinate. But time after time she proved that she was stronger than the many pieces she fought against and I was the one weak constantly needing to be saved.

Even now, with all my cards on the table, knowing that I am little more than a poison to her, she reaches out and she says, 'she loves me' knowing full well what that means.

But I suppose that's why." He shifts back meeting her eyes for what truly feels like the first time.

"For all I've done to try and forget I know I can't run from this. I don't want to, because whenever I close my eyes all I see are pictures of you, Stormy Silph, the woman I swore to kill, but would die to keep alive."

"Stormy, I love you and all that you are, and I'm so sorry.

When he falters she lifts him, his head hangs low but her hands find themselves latched against his collar straightening it underneath the downpour, as if to pull him up, to tell him his fight is not yet over.


"Don't ever be sorry for the hurt that the world has brought upon you, Miles Sharp. Be thankful that you were strong enough to overcome it because that is what courage is."

Those thin fingers with unbridled strength and gentleness then rise to his icy cold cheeks warmth finally brushing against those self-inflicted wounds, punishments doled out to his own body. Their eyes meet once more ruby and slate now melding against each other where they once clashed.

They're left in a murky grey now, the future was cloudy not with doubt, but with the realities they both faced and the challenges they brought. Even so, she uses the word 'we' and never before has it been so powerful because it meant despite what could be endless murkiness, shadows that could drag on indefinitely she states with confidence only known to her that they would face that unwritten future together. It's enough to bring him to tears, his smile shining even in the overwhelming weather.

"Come hell or high water, I'll always be in your corner Stormy. On the grave of my mother, this I promise you." He was hers in mind, body, and soul. She faced the spectre of his revenge and hadn't faltered. She met it as only she could, reaching her hand out into that darkness deeper than she could imagine at the time.

He remembers something he'd said on their first date, overlooking Slateport's nightscape.

“I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive. My mother used to say all it takes to save someone is a reach of the hand.

"Stormy Silph, my hero."

"Stormy I love you."

He whispers repeating the statement if only to hear the sound of the words through those silent sobs. Her fingers trace his jawline now, and like a stray, he leans into her kindness craving it. With each second that unflinching warmth she embodies grows like a furnace consuming coal.

She pervades further fingers moving from tired eyes down to his finger locking, interlacing against them. He nestles his head against her neck the warmth of his breath grazes against her nape almost rhythmically, it matches the steadying drum of his heart.

"Let's go home."  For what was his, was hers.

Lips press against bruised knuckles, and he wants nothing more than to be with her now, to show her how much she meant to him because words only go so far when conveying feeling. Nut she pulls away ever so slightly to bring him away from the countless bodies beneath them. Least of all his mothers. The tension begins to lighten as the rain slows, no longer a fierce downpour, but a light shower cleansing purifying the shadows that remained between them. He looks back at the bouquet left on that generic grave. and he promises to return soon, perhaps Stormy would join him, to meet the love of his life officially, though he supposes Gloria Sharp had seen everything she needed to know about Stormy in the minutes prior.

He follows her closely, both of them soaked beyond measure. Her raven hair slick with water. He thinks back on this mighty game fate had played with them, their countless meetings over the months neither knowing who the other truly was. The astronomical chance on the two having met as they did bonding and loving despite their ignorance, and choosing to love further in spite of those truths becoming what they were today.

Inseparable.