the climb isn't like it was before. it may be nerves. it may be foreboding. it may be something as childish as the fact that sam hadn't texted him back. he'd set up the appointment, but he can still remember the gut-wrenching feeling he'd had, the anxiety attack that had come upon him, at their last meeting. 

he doesn't keep up with current affairs, not when his world is so small, so he hasn't seen the coverage showing clips of sam, alongside other heroes, protecting the region from the fury of legends. 

it's early morning. knox wouldn't consider himself an early riser as much as he would an insomniac. but the circles have lightened since the last time he'd met with the strange ferryman. his withdrawal symptoms have been kept at bay, for now.

it's with a clear head that he approaches the base of the mountain. he takes the soft hand of one of sam's gardevoirs; captain does too. and then pikachu and trainer are at the top of the mountain, glass doors sliding before them, an eclectic reception center welcoming them in.

samuel carter

☉

when sam hears the doors open he turns to look above his dusclops at the one who enters. the sight of knox has sam smiling a very lazy, but grateful, smile.

"oh... that's today, isn't it?"

there's a small laugh given as he turns, shooing his boos away as they disperse and go back about cleaning and dusting the place. his body is littered in dirt, some scratches and scrapes. the more serious wounds were tended to before he was allowed to leave the mountain, thankfully.

"good morning." he greets with a smile, despite his own exhausted shamble of a self. "i see you made it up okay."

the gardevoir bows and teleports back to the bottom of the mountain without being asked. she's efficient and sam adores her for it.

knox prescott

he does not expect to find himself greeted by sam. he'd anticipated a bit more time mentally preparing himself. that the man would be behind a closed door, seated at a desk, anywhere else but - 

here. 

and the shock of suddenly seeing him helps him chase away his anxieties. that's the thing about knox. he's good around people. and sam is people. so the charming smile comes out and he has a quipping remark, but then he notices the bandages, the scrapes and scratches, and the bruising. 

he closes his mouth, simpers, and says, "i see you didn't?" 

'that's today, isn't it?' ouch. that one still stings. he scratches the back of his head, about to tell sam that he's fine with rescheduling if need be, but captain clambers off of his back and hops over to sam so that she can sit at his feet. 

samuel carter

☉

as if he isn't bruised, batter, and worse for ware, he bends down and gives the pikachu a scratch where he's researched a pikachu enjoys being scratched. because yes, he had to research it. he's never owned one himself and he's heard horror stories of electrifying cuddle sessions where somebody scratched wrong.

being that he wanted to see more of knox and his pokémon, he did a little reading. totally natural. or so sam excused.

"the trip up this mountain wasn't what did all of this to me."

glancing over at the coffee pot, he gives the small duskull, charon, a smile as he makes his way over to take the cup of coffee she'd made from her ghostly hands.

"thank you," he tells her as she haunts on over to the dusclops and directs his cleaning elsewhere for the time being. "though it's a bit strong today..."

charon knew he'd needed it, though. he began adding some sugar, but mostly cream, to the cup.

"would you like some?" he offers knox, moving enough for knox to come and make himself a cup.

knox prescott

captain certainly notices the change in sam right off the bat. she makes a squealing noise that knox has only ever heard her make around Summer Atreides and he watches with raised brows as she exposes her belly for more rubs. and now that she's content with her morning, and with the fact that knox is staying on the mountainside, she scampers off to curiously watch sam's ghost-types as they work.

he takes a cup and adds just a touch of cream. he's never been much of a fan of sweets. too sharp, too vivid. but the buzz, albeit unnecessary, is welcome to his brain. 

he looks at sam over the rim of his cup. "so what did? one of your ghosts try to drag you to an early grave?"

samuel carter

☉

sam snorts through his nose at knox' jest, a smile forming. it's the first smile he's formed since the whole terror had started.

first he was abducted, saved by Rory Faust, and now he's had to endure a giant raid with a primal pokémon and time travel...

damn hoenn, calm down.

"primal groudon from the past."

the words sound fake, made up, and he looks to knox with a faded smile.

"last night, groudon grew primal and in frustrated tried to destroy mt. chimney. there was an odd sun in the air, and when attacked, time leaked out and began affecting the mountain. we destroyed what caused groudon's rise, we calmed the beast, and otherwise helped to save the region."

a small shrug and sam was, in fact, still frowning.

"week before that i got abducted and nearly experimented on in odale town."

the memories flashed through his mind, vividly. he remembered every detail, could almost feel the darkness from the abduction and the heat from mt. chimney. it made his hand shake, coffee beginning to quake in his cup. he didn't even realize it was happening, eyes watching the pikachu and duskull play with the doofus of a dusclops.

knox prescott

hard as he might try to separate himself from the growing threats of the region (especially since he's part of one of them), it still comes back to wash over him. that new year's night yawns at the corner of his vision. but it's whisked away as he focuses all of his attention on sam.

it's easier now that he has some money in his pocket, now that he can buy pure. 

he knows that look - that far-away look that people get when they're thinking about the bad. the past and its hauntings, something he's all too familiar with. but he's the king of forgetting, and of moving on, and so it's his hands that settle sam's own. 

his own coffee is left abandoned on the table. sam's hands are warm. funny. he hadn't expected that. "if i knew that's what you were into, i wouldn't have waited so long to come see ya again."

he steps in front of sam's field of view. "you wanna head to your office or whatever? some place less...open?"

samuel carter

☉

the hands on his are like ice cold water across his back. he stiffens, eyes finding the ice in the form of sharp blue eyes inviting him into a more private room.

truth be told, he wanted that. he wanted to curl up in his bed and chant the many different rhymes he researched helped with the ptsd, and the anxiety, and the stress.

but he soldiers on, because that's all he knows how to do. it's what keeps him awake at night. that, and the nightmares. the vivid, eidetic, memories and the constant loneliness he'd always thought never bothered him.

so without a word, he gives a nod of confirmation and takes the coffee with him. around the desk, into the back office. it's where he keeps his records. it's orderly and neat, everything where it belongs. a line of files along each of the walls, some shelves are empty, the shelves and records he's converted to digital files. the small desk is on one side and a window sill with a makeshift couch-bed is on the opposite wall. a blanket is neatly folded, a pillow on either side leaning against the arms.

he sets the cup of coffee down on the desk and then takes a seat on the couch. they're about five feet apart, the desk and the couch. it's a small little office, usually where his now tired gardevoir sits and gazes out at the sea.

sam removes his capsules from their holsters, setting them along the desk next to his coffee.

"thanks."

knox prescott

and because he has no one when he is the one with shaking hands, with vision lost looking elsewhere, he must become that for someone else. he lives as he does so that one day, he might face his mirror, that one day someone kinder will offer him their solace. his methods, selfish as they may be, are still genuine.

so he follows wordlessly behind sam and he wonders at these newfound revelations. time travel. primal groudon. it wouldn't surprise him to know that summer knows all of this and more. she's content, like and their father, to control the family business, but all that power must intrigue her. 

as he enters sam's abode, he is struck by how humble it is. the couch and its pillows are lovingly well-worn, providing a comfort in a nostalgia he's not familiar with. he's never loved something so carefully before. 

he withdraws a couple of pokeballs from his hidden belt and drops them to the floor. they roll and then release their inhabitants before slapping back up into knox's waiting hands.

"pari, isla - meet sam." the electric-type rodents stand at attention and then approach the other trainer without caution. both of them scamper up into his lap and nestle. 

"something told me to bring them today. guess i know why." he takes a seat on the couch beside sam, closer to the opposite arm rest in case he wants space. 

"we can wait, if you'd like," he says. "the will, i mean. if you'd like to talk instead..." he trails off, looks up. 

samuel carter

☉

when knox releases his pokémon, another revelation is thought of. keldeo picked him that day, chose him, agreed to go with him.

it's terrifying, it's confusing.

the two electric type rodents are adorable and seeing knox so gentle with them, not anxious or scared, has sam relaxing a bit more.

the space is appreciated but he doesn't pay it mind, moving closer to give small scratches if allowed.

"i wouldn't even know where to begin if i were to talk about it all." it was so much, it was all such a blur. he remembered if vividly but his brain was overloaded.

"some work might do my thoughts some good. give them structure, order."

because at the moment, they were pure and unfiltered chaos.

knox prescott

when he wants to forget something, when he wants to make the world make sense again, well, he finds someone willing and shuts the rest of the world out for a few hours. he doesn't offer that though. something about this is softer. more fragile. 

terrifying.

"work it is then." he splays his palms. "so let's talk about death." his smile is warm, lilting at the corners. 

samuel carter

☉

oddly enough, it's the darkness of the joke that has sam laughing. really, truly laughing, as if he'd just seen one of those ridiculous feline pokémon videos on loop.

"death," he smiled fondly, like greeting an old friend. "something i'm far more familiar with."

he sits up enough to reach a few things on his desk, his notepad and pen, then leans back on the arm of the couch to face knox.

finally, he meets knox' eyes with an all to familiar steeled business expression. one that's void of terror or confusion. one that's stable, but mundane.

"alright, so. in the case of your death, you want anything and everything that is tied to your name, left to whom?"

knox prescott

his smile widens into his signature, boyish grin. sam's laughter brings a lightness to the room and dispels an intensity knox hadn't even realized was there. suddenly the distance between them doesn't seem as irrevocable. 

that's it. let them walk away from the mysticism and the supernatural. let the world shrink until it's pressed to sam's office door, until they're the only two people in the world and nothing else matters.

except, of course, for why they're here. his sister's name presses on the tip of his tongue (after all, she may hate him, but she'd take good care of his pokemon), but he remembers his false name and pauses. 

"i...well, fuck." he clasps his hands together and looks at pari and isla, already dozing off. fuck it. 

if he ends up in prison, at least he's not technically involved with his family anymore. "hate to ruin your penmanship there," he says, pointing to the script sam has already put to the page, "but i have to be honest with you." you deserve that much.

he musses his hair (something he does when he's stressed) and looks into sam's eyes as he says, "i feel like this'll get in the way of the legality of things, but knox fletcher's not," he pauses, "my name." 

samuel carter

☉