He is always working.

At home, snuggled on the couch with Tempest Quinn, he still stirs the moment the phone vibrates in his pocket. His husband knows as well as he does what the distinct tone indicates: business. He is, at least, apologetic in the way he disentangles himself with his lover and heads for the hidden door to his laboratory.

It's not a long journey to ground zero, and the air is warm.

He does not tread often on the ground where the Tree of Life once stood. It's hard to face what had become a blood-soaked battlefield and the grave of a friend. The resurrection of another, only he'd come back wrong.

For Rocket, Gavin will go anywhere.

Gloves shield his hands, and he carries at his side a bag full of various equipment. When he reaches the Crystabloom, however, he takes a moment to marvel at its size. It's tiny, peeking up through the rocky earth like a last memory of the sylvan glade that had once stood here.

"How'd you find it? The glow?"

Gavin tilts his gaze skyward to acknowledge the circling predator before returning his amber gaze to the other underboss.

"There's certainly very little remaining," he says of the Infinity Energy that had once been in overwhelming abundance here, "but perhaps wisps have been left behind."

A tiny, struggling, incredible rarity bloomed before them.

"I don't think this is a reflection of things to come. I think it's a remnant of what was."

There's something sad about it if he were to dwell, but he doesn't. He crouches down, beginning to work at its roots.

A strange smile touches his lips. It reminds him not of his mother's garden, which only brought bitterness, but of the witch hazel that would bloom in defiance of Circhester's snows. Bright orange blooms like tiny winter suns.

He retracts his hand from the root and gets up, stepping back.

"Rotom. Photo."

In case it doesn't make it.

It'd be a shame to forget such a beauty.

Returning to his task of unearthing the Crystabloom's roots, he nods absently in response to the question.

"Help it grow, take samples to see what reserves it might've drawn from. If we can find out what allowed it to grow, maybe we'll have an easier time cultivating Hearts in the future."

Sygna Suits were all the rage in Hoenn nowadays.

"Sure, I've got extra gear in the bag. We just have to be careful not to damage the root."

"I usually stick to hydroponics. Less mess."

His basement laboratory had an entire section dedicated to the cultivation of berries, guarded by a lazy Leafeon who spent his days napping beneath the lights and nibbling the dying growths from the plants.

"Success has been limited." He doesn't seem disappointed; science was a process. It could take years to see worthwhile results, but that made them all the more rewarding. "In rare cases, a new bulb has been produced, but there's been difficulty in keeping it stable. None of them have lasted particularly long."

This, however, was a natural Crystabloom, no matter how small. Perhaps they'd have more luck with it.

Gavin laughs at the retort. "You know how much of a pain gardening is in Fallarbor? Great soil but the fucking ash. Terrible for the lungs." It didn't help that he'd been smoking for a decade.

They finally unearth the last of the Crystablooms roots, and Gavin transports it carefully into the container he'd brought with him.

"I grabbed one from Blackstone." That was one of the perks of them being M.A.G.M.A directors; the resources of the Division were at their disposal. "Already got the suit, though I've yet to try it out."