Pepin the EEVEE at a hopping trot beside him, Barnaby strode through the wooded path ahead of him, already quite close to his destination: Fiorelli Floristry. It would be another evening spent in the company of Elisabeth Fiorelli - or, at least, that was the plan.

His EEVEE suddenly halted in its tracks, its leporine ears on a swivel, as if it heard something startling.

"Pepin? What's wrong, little one?"

And then Barnaby heard it, too.

Unfettered screams, distinctly feminine. Continuous and utterly heartbreaking. Whoever it was, they were in terrible pain.

Not one to ignore someone obviously in extreme stress, Barnaby gestured for Pepin to lead the way. The little EEVEE bolted forward and into the undergrowth, making a beeline for whatever awaited ahead.

The trees clustered together now that Barnaby found himself off the tended trail; it was difficult to navigate but, eventually, the foliage thinned until a small clearing lay before him.

In this open space was a woman, head down and hands over her ears. Even now, she was still crying as loud as her voice would allow.

Barnaby approached, concern overtaking his usual wariness. Not wanting to appear too intimidating, he lowered himself to one knee. Pepin was there, too, mewling kindly and pawing at the woman's leg.

It was then that Barnaby noticed: her azure hair, the color of a sweet summer sky, and the familiar lilt to her cries.

"Summer...?" A hand reached out to cup her jaw, tilting it upwards to confirm what he'd already suspected.

"Darling, what happened?" Barnaby's voice was low and soothing; he wanted to calm her, not stoke whatever flames had ignited in her heart and caused this breakdown.

Summer Atreides

☉

Summer didn't realize her screams had signaled someone to come to her. Though, she didn't know that her screams were echoing loudly in the clearing of the forest. Her voice began to crack from the overuse, yet she tried to get noise out.

She felt weak. All of her control, everything she had worked for, slipped from her fingers in a matter of seconds. Death's door was knocking, and she could feel him there.

Merrick, standing there, with an outstretched hand, calling for her.

"You don't deserve to be there, my darling Summer. Come with me. You know only I can make you better."

Summer's chest was tight, but at the same time it felt like her heart was beating so quickly that it was going to pop from her mouth and beat on the ground. Her stomach twisted with nausea, and she lost her stomach contents in a violent wretch.

"I can't breathe. I can't breathe!"

She heaved, chest working to bring in air like it was punched from her lungs. Her hands jumped to her throat, shaking violently, as she tried to inhale.

That's when she felt a paw on her thigh, followed by a familiar voice.

"Can't breathe-" Summer managed to get out, her breaths coming in puffs this time as she hyperventilated.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, down her neck, staining her clothes. She looked at Barnaby as he turned her face to him with wide eyes, absolutely terrified.

"Barnaby..."

BARNABY FINCH

☉

Most assumed him to be prissy and uptight. It was true, to an extent, and exacerbated when in his journalist persona. But as vomit spilled onto the grass besides her - as the telltale acrid smell of sick filled the air - Barnaby didn't even flinch. He'd seen much worse, after all.

That didn't stop him from gently rubbing her back, though. Or from taking her hand and squeezing it softly.

"Sshh. It's me, Summer." He cooed, removing a handkerchief from his pocket and lightly cleaning around her lips and chin. Anywhere there were traces left from her retching.

"Come now, let's get you away from here." To distract from her breakdown and also to put distance between whatever had caused it. The terror in her eyes was unlike anything he'd seen before in his friend. Was she being chased? Could someone be after her? Barnaby wasn't sure, and that unsettled him.

"There's a cottage nearby. We can go there for the time being." Here he began to stand, still grasping her hand so as to help he to her feet as well. Then, if she'd allow, he'd scoop her into his arms. Not for the first time, and under very different circumstances. But that memory seemed so very long ago.

Summer Atreides

☉

This wouldn't be the first time BARNABY FINCH had seen Summer break down. They had run into each other at a festival once, around New Years. Casey Fincher's disappearance was still fresh, and work was piling on her.

If she could think clearly, she'd remember how she had cried into his chest, hidden in the alleyway and how he offered his comfort to her then too.

It only seemed fitting that he had found her once again. Summer wished that he wasn't there, because she was at her worst. She looked pitiful, horrendous. She was ashamed.

But part of her was glad that it was him and not someone else, because he'd seen her at her worst. He could see her again.

She felt a hand on her back, soothing her as she finished bringing up whatever vile substances from her stomach out. Her hand was pulled to his, and she breathed. For once since this panic struck her, Summer Prescott breathed.

"Barnaby..." she whispered again, though it came out more of a sad whimper.

Summer allowed him to swoop down and pick her up, resting her head against his chest as he carried her away to the cottage he spoke of. She had no clue where she was or where she'd run off too. All she knew was that she was tired now, but her friend's arms around her brought a certain feeling of safety that she didn't have before.

"Where am I?" she asked weakly, keeping her eyes shut but listening for Barnaby's voice.

BARNABY FINCH

☉

Ever the helpful companion, Pepin lead the way back from whence Barnaby had come, stopping every few pawbeats to look back and make sure his master was following. The slit in the underbrush from where Barnaby's legs had pushed through before was still evident, even in the dwindling light, so it made for a steady but slow journey.

“Elisabeth Fiorelli’s cottage.” Barnaby responded quietly, pressing Summer closer to him. He wasn’t sure if she was even aware of Elisabeth Fiorelli’s existence. They were both ROCKETs, of course, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were acquainted. Truly it did not matter, though, as Barnaby’s aim was simply to soothe and distract.

“It’s a quaint little flower shop.” He continued, the thrum of his voice likely reverberating from his chest and through her. “Surrounded by beautiful fields.”

Just as he said this, they broke through the tree-line and came into view of Elisa's home. True to his word, the fields around the property were as lovely as ever.

“I like to come here to get away.” Here he unlatched her gate, letting the hinges squeak open, before sitting in the familiar bench swing within the small front yard.

A moment passed in almost-silence. Although Barnaby did not immediately speak, the sounds of singing insects, the whisper of wind through tree branches, the quiet mewl of his EEVEE settling in beside them - it all filled in as background noise.

Barnaby cradled Summer in his arms. Stroked her hair. Allowed her the time she needed. When she seemed more composed, he’d eventually ask in a calm, low voice:

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Summer Atreides

☉

Elisabeth Fiorelli... Summer knew Elisa. She wouldn't necessarily say that she knew her very well, but the two knew each other well enough to be considered friends, she'd imagine. However...

"Is she here?"

While she liked the woman, she didn't want to show her the tears streaming down her face. How she had been panting and screaming, a disheveled and horrible mess. She was never a mess, and no one was allowed to see her like this.

Except, for some apparent reason, BARNABY FINCH.

The rumble of his voice through his chest, against her face and her body, was soothing as he cradled her, sitting down on the bench in the garden. Summer could feel the sun now, a warmth on them as she closed her eyes and rested soundly in his arms.

Content, for the moment. She no longer could feel sticky blood or iron in the air. Her father's words were gone from her ears, replaced by chirping birds and the buzz of insects flying from plant to plant.

Dare she admit what happened to her father to Barnaby?

"Barnaby..."

Summer paused before opening her eyes and looking at him.

"If I tell you something... would you promise not to judge me? Or see me as a different person?"

BARNABY FINCH

☉

His eyes shifted to Elisabeth Fiorelli's cottage and found it to be rather extinguished: the lights were off, the curtains drawn, her Pokémon noticeably absent from most of the property.

"No, she's not." Barnaby replied, assuaging Summer's worries of being found by the florist.

This assurance only deepened his morbid curiosity, however. Ever the journalistic mind, he couldn't help but wonder what had brought Summer to her literal knees. What was it that she couldn't share with other ROCKET members present? Barnaby was ready to hear the gruesome tale... but instead of divulging immediately, Summer Atreides asked for a promise.

BARNABY FINCH rarely made promises.

He found them too restricting. Too easily broken and therefore lacking meaning. How could he guarantee his idea of her wouldn't be morphed by this new knowledge? And yet...

"... I promise." Said with all the sincerity in the world. With all the concern and empathy in his guarded heart.

He truly did care about Summer, in his own way. She had grown on him despite their rocky start. But would this affection be enough to trump whatever dark secret she was about to disclose?

Summer Atreides

☉

Summer knew that BARNABY FINCH could be lying. He could've said that he promised just to hear what she had to say before leaving her there, reporting her to whatever authorities he wanted to... or worse, ending their friendship then and there. She knew that he held a lot of power in that moment to strip her of her power and her newly gained company.

Yet, she trusted him... right? He was one of the few that she found herself able to trust. And maybe she could trust him with this as well.

"I killed him. I killed my father."

Summer's eyes were shut tight as she spoke, as her mind replayed that night in her mind again. Suddenly, she couldn't smell flowers or grass anymore. She couldn't even smell Barnaby anymore. It was the smell of iron, blood that reeked around her, and her face grew pale.

"I took a gun, and I ended him. He kept tormenting my brother and I. He killed my brother's ex-lover and pinned the blame on me to get Knox to come to the hideout. And he was going to kill my brother... I couldn't take it anymore."

Fresh tears began to slip out of her eyes again as she sniffled, pressing the heels of her hands to her skull.

"He always told me he loved me. But why would he do that? Why did I... what's wrong with me?"

BARNABY FINCH

☉

It had to be something this grave, hadn't it? Otherwise Summer Atreides never would have allowed anyone to see her in such a state.

And grave it was. Patricide. As all the gory details spilled from her lips as if purging the sin from her body, Barnaby did as he always did. He observed quietly, he listened without interruption. All while his facial expression remained unchanged. He was awful at surprise parties because nothing surprised him anymore.

Summer was a criminal. To what extent she had broken the law previous to this divulgence he wasn't sure, but it mattered little. She was a ROCKET and ROCKETs were expected to have the fortitude to kill for their cause. So that aspect of her story didn't faze him.

Her spiral into self-doubt, however, did pull at Barnaby's heartstrings.

"It sounds like he was a terrible man who deserved the fate you bestowed on him." Tricking her? Plans to kill her brother? There was no redemption for someone like that.

"Blood ties do not guarantee love, nor genuine affection and care." That was a lesson Barnaby had learned long ago, but one Summer was just now having the unfortunate experience of learning firsthand.

"There are people in this world whom only use those around them, no matter who they are. Takers. Manipulators. If I had to guess, your father fit the bill." He stroked her hair, but didn't attempt to move her hands away from her eyes.

"So... no, Summer, nothing is wrong with you." A gentle finger went to swipe a falling tear from her cheek. "You're free now."

Summer Atreides

☉

Summer waited to hear his reply. An outburst, curses, panic... any of it. She almost expected him to throw her from his arms, to rush and report her right away. She didn't want him to. Of course she didn't. But paranoia ate at her heart, threatening to make her sick.

Yet there was only Barnaby's hand running through her hair, a soothing motion that made her want to sob even more. Because as he spoke to her, Summer knew that he was there for her.

Her intuition had been right to trust him. She pulled her hands from her face, looking at him with a child-like expression. "You're free now."

"I'm... free?" Part of her didn't believe that. Yet, she echoed his words, waiting for him to say it again.

"Barnaby..." A soft whimper left her throat as she sat up to wrap her arms around him, bringing him into a tight embrace. Because, in that moment, she didn't know what she'd do without him there to comfort her. To tell her it was okay.

She didn't deserve his friendship and kindness.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for any wrong I had ever done to you. You're someone I treasure so dearly. I can't thank you enough for helping me. I don't deserve your friendship," she said quietly, though she rested her head in the crook of his neck as she held him close to her.

"I love you, my dear friend. Please don't ever leave me..."

Their relationship had started in a strange way, but now Summer was certain. Her friendship with Barnaby was something to last a life time.

BARNABY FINCH

☉

Summer leaned up to embrace him, wrapping her shaking arms around his neck, and Barnaby did the same in kind. His hold on her was steadfast yet gentle, allowing her to hide her face away from the world as long as she needed to.

"Sshh. It's alright, Summer. You don't have to apologize for anything." Whatever wrong she may have done to him in the past - drawing a knife on him came to mind - was all but a distant memory to him. Summer Atreides was a pleasant blush in his mind now, a shoulder to lean on, a friendship to enjoy.

"I love you too." And it was true, in a way. As close of an approximation as someone like BARNABY FINCH could get.

"And no, I won't ever leave you..." He continued, stroking her powder blue hair as she nuzzled deeper into his neck.

"Promise."

Summer Atreides

☉