What might have been?

After spending the past couple years adjusting to monocular vision, Aurelie found it exceedingly strange to have two working eyes again. Where there had been limitations on her field of vision, now there was a constant and far greater flow of visual information from her right. She could have wept to realize how much she'd missed it.

With her expanded eyesight—or perhaps just the insight afforded by hindsight—she saw difference in the reality unfolding before her now. The way her brother regarded her now with wary respect. How he and her mother didn't smile secretively at each other the way that she remembered. How conversations between the two of them no longer fell silent when Aurelie entered the room.

When the contest began the next day, Aurelie noticed, too, day after day, that her safety glasses never changed. And there were never any Pokemon in the workshop with her but her Flareon and Klinklang. That too was strange, for she'd acquired a small menagerie since arriving in Hoenn, and it startled her sometimes not to have her Sealeo watching for dangerous flames or her Tinkaton evaluating alloys by her side.

So much had changed for Aurelie. And yet, in the workshop itself, so much stayed the same.

Aurelie threw herself into the work of forging the elaborate, exquisite flamberge rapier—the weapon that she'd always wanted to make and yet couldn't bring herself to complete afterward—with fierce joy. She stacked, cut, and folded the 200-layered Damascus steel with almost lover-like devotion, before hammering and shaping it into a long, slender rapier blade.

With delicate, well-balanced hammer taps, she sculpted the signature flowing, undulating curves that epitomized the flamberge blade, allowing it to parry and catch other weapons. The quenching process went as smoothly as could be. She honed the tip and edges to razor fineness and meticulously perfected the balance and feel of the blade.

The finishing touch was the elegant, eye-catching swept hilt with swirling quillons to protect the user's hand on the comfortable, wire-bound grip. The hilt was capped with an intricately carved, twisted pear-shaped pommel for counterbalance. No other ornaments or decoration did the blade need, for it was imbued with the functional elegance of a weapon that needed to be in motion for its true beauty to be perceived and appreciated.

After a solid month, working on nothing else, Aurelie was ready to present her finished rapier as part of her father's competition. She had never been more tired or felt prouder of her own handiwork. At the same time, her younger brother had finished his own submission: an absolutely stunning set of necklace, bracelet, and earrings, adorned with hanging pendants of stained glass and faceted crystal, with delicate dried flowers held within.

"Incredible, as always, 'Tate," Aurelie told him, sincerely, if a little ruefully. "Definitely fitting for the genius prodigy of the family."

Her brother laughed and shook his head. "Oh, shush, you. But thank you! Your rapier looks wonderful too." They shook hands again, and he gave his distinct, sweet smile. "May the best metalworker win!"

And with that, their submissions were in the hands of her father. He asked them about their processes and methods. He studied their two very different pieces in intense, painstaking detail. He tested them in ways appropriate to their natures.

They waited. They watched him. They sweated. And they waited some more. Finally, after most of the day had passed, their father made his announcement.

And Aurelie still lost.

What should have been...

It hurt so much to lose.

The loss cut just as deeply as Aurelie remembered, striking her with an impact of a powerful hammer blow and searing her heart with white-hot disappointment, disbelief, frustration, and anger all at once. In a way, it was worse than the first time, the reality she remembered, because she'd done her absolute best. Nothing had gotten in her way or slowed her down; nothing had gone wrong.

And yet that helped too, because Aurelie knew she'd done her absolute best and seen the result. Her blade had been very, very good, as her father told her emphatically and sincerely, but it just hadn't been quite good enough. There were no excuses, no ambiguities, and no uncertainty—only the truth, shining as bright and sharp as steel itself.

With that truth, that knowledge of what would have been, came the sorrow, the acceptance, and finally, the release of a tension that she hadn't even realized had been gripping her for years. At least, now I can stop lying awake and wondering, Aurelie thought, tasting the bitter salt of her own tears. This is what would have been. What should always have been.

Strangely, after all that, she felt better.

Especially when she saw her brother was initially just as stunned as she was, as if he hadn't been sure of the outcome himself. She couldn't begrudge him jumping up and down and cheering in excitement and joy; she would've done the same herself. After that, though, the very first thing 'Tate did was run over to her and give her a big hug.

"Congratulations, 'Tate," Aurelie whispered in his ear, meaning it. "You deserve it. All of it. The workshop is yours. Father was right to leave it to you."

To her surprise, then, her brother shook his head. "No, Lili," he replied. "The workshop is ours. This business, this workshop belongs to you just as much as it does to me. We'll be co-masters together and work together just as we've always done, with frequent consultation and consensus."

His generosity shocked her to her core. How is it possible? Aurelie thought incredulously, thinking of the sabotaged safety glasses and the sneaky Sableye she was still sure had been his. A few words, and the outcome changes so much? A promise of honor and fair play, and we become partners instead of bitter rivals and enemies?

"Of course!" she exclaimed, both eyes glowing with delight and eagerness, just like his. "Yes, a thousand times yes! I'll make the blades and tools, and you make the art, and we'll lead this workshop and family into a new era of prosperity and innovation together."

And so they set up shop together. It wasn't always pretty, and it took a lot of work to achieve a certain harmony between their goals, for her brother was a traditionalist in many ways, while Aurelie wanted to shoot for the moon and sell to the highest bidders. But they forged their partnership with the same care and attention as they did their masterpieces, and it stayed true and strong, tempered by wisdom and love.

It was a far happier ending than Aurelie could ever have expected. Far happier and better than she really deserved, she suspected. And if her rewritten story could have ended there, it would have been—if not exactly perfect, but satisfying. Happy.

But somehow, she knew all too well that this wasn't the way her story would end.

"Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

Almost immediately, the business and workshop of which Aurelie and Tate were now co-masters started losing money.

Never in a thousand years would she have expected this to happen, and the shock of it nearly took her breath away the first time she looked over the books and saw the red numbers herself. How was it even possible? She and her brother were both working at an intense pace around the clock, fulfilling orders and custom commissions right and left, with no shortage of inspiration and motivation.

Yet, somehow, the workshop's expenses still kept exceeding its income, and Aurelie had no idea why. Her father and mother had worked together for decades and managed a comfortable middle-class lifestyle while raising two children, without working themselves to the bone. Aurelie and Tate were younger and newer to the business, but surely, they should've been able to break even, at least.

At first, Aurelie tried to reduce costs wherever she could. Then she tried raising prices. Nothing worked. Her brother's expenses still soared, despite the superlative creations he diligently crafted every day, and money continued flowing out like the Couriway Town falls.

Aurelie began feeling desperate. She did not want to fail this miraculous, joyous second chance. As their need for money ballooned, her scruples began to dwindle and wither away.

So, when Kalosian aristocrat and fencing champion Julien Demassieux strolled through the door requesting a new épée set, foil, and saber, Aurelie hesitated. I should say no, but...we need the money, she thought. When he told her how much he was willing to pay, the word "Yes" came out of her mouth without even consulting her brain.

It was a great windfall for their workshop and kept them afloat through the month, and Aurelie couldn't find it in herself to regret it.

When BARNABY FINCH commissioned a set of clever concealed weapons, Aurelie did a double take at first. But then she named her price, and the man didn't blink an eye before agreeing. She swallowed hard, steeled herself, thought of the workshop's balance sheet and the delicious challenge of the combat knives, sword cane, bladed umbrella, and multi-tools, and said yes.

Afterward, her family whispered worriedly about whom exactly she was making all these weapons for and what uses they would be put to. But it was hard for Aurelie to put much credence in their concerns now, when they accepted the food, presents, and materials she bought with the money. It felt as though these unusual commissions were all that kept the workshop profitable.

When Elisabeth Fiorelli—or, as Aurelie knew her, Lisa Bortiforte, the wife of a merchant prince from Camphrier Town—came into the shop, swathed in silk scarf, luxurious fur coat, and mink-lined suede boots, the red-haired smith was ready for anything. The beautiful blonde requested to transform an heirloom ring into a poisoned weapon, and Aurelie's eyes lit up. She did exactly as Lady Bortiforte asked—and then, with her brother Tate's help, added an assortment of additional transforming rings that popped up with spikes, blades, or clever capsules that could hold venom, powder, or other...mixtures.

"Are you sure about this?" Tate asked her as she prepared to present the fruits of their work to Lady Bortiforte.

"Yes," Aurelie replied firmly. "She'll love it. It's exactly what she asked for, but even more deadly."

"But...Lili...it just...you know what they say about her...and her husband...and you made these things..." He stared at her unchanging expression, started to say more, fell silent, and then shook his head and threw his hands in the air. "I just don't know! It's so unlike you to do this! Are you...are you sure?"

"Yes," Aurelie repeated, her voice softer now but even firmer than before. "This is what we need to do. This is what I want to do." And as she said it, she knew she was speaking the truth.

"Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

When a League officer eventually came to see her, Aurelie was only surprised that it had taken them so long. Probably she just wasn't important enough to merit more attention. The man in the suit flashed his badge at her, and she readied herself for any accusations.

But what he said instead took her completely by surprise. "Sorry to bother you, Miss Lefevre, but I'd like to ask you some questions about your brother Argentate."

"'Tate?" she repeated, her brow furrowing in puzzlement. "What about him? What's going on?"

"Are you aware that your brother's bank accounts and credit cards are completely drained?" the officer asked. "Currently, he's on the verge of losing all his possessions and declaring bankruptcy."

Aurelie's jaw dropped in astonishment, and she mutely shook her head. She'd never paid any attention to her brother's finances and said so aloud. The man nodded, as if he'd expected that response.

"How well do you know Sam Fontaine?" he asked, naming her brother's current boyfriend. When Aurelie confusedly replied that she'd only met him a handful of times, he went on, "Are you aware that Sam is a known dealer and smuggler of illegal narcotics and other dangerous drugs?"

When she gasped in unfeigned shock, the League officer continued, "We suspect that your brother has not only become addicted to drugs because of Sam's influence but is also participating in the drug dealing business too. We know for a fact that he's been financing Sam's lifestyle with his own money." He pulled out a stack of papers from his briefcase and laid them out on the table. "You can follow the money trail here...and here...and the money starts flowing here..."

"And what do you want from me?" Aurelie demanded finally, losing her patience.

"We need to bring in your brother," he said. "He and Sam seem to have gone into hiding, perhaps because his money ran out recently. So if you could do us a favor for us, please text your brother and tell him to head home."

Aurelie took one look at the officer in his dark suit and sunglasses, with his blank, cold stare, and pulled out her phone. She quickly texted her brother that League officers were after him and he needed to get somewhere safe, perhaps even outside Kalos if he could. I have to, she thought. I love him, even if he lied and is an idiot. He's family.

A few minutes later, a voice crackled on the officer's earpiece, and his eyes narrowed. Then he stood and pulled a pistol on her, releasing the safety with a click. "You're under arrest, Miss Lefevre, for obstructing a League investigation. You have the right to remain silent..."

They must have been monitoring her brother's phone! Seeing the pistol pointed at her, Aurelie reacted impulsively. Instead of going quietly, she rushed at the agent and tried to knock the gun out of his hand. It went off, shooting her in the right foot with a searing burst of instant agony. The red-haired smith fell over with a scream, and the agent shook his head pityingly.

She was taken to jail, where the wound in her foot went septic. To Aurelie's horror, it soon had to be amputated, and she spent all her jail time and short trial in the infirmary, feverish and delirious. She was sentenced to two years in prison for obstructing an investigation and resisting arrest.

How did this go so far? she thought in bewilderment when they led her away, put her in an orange jumpsuit, and confined her in a cell whose door shut behind her with a metallic clang. My brother... Our business... My foot! How did I lose it all so quickly? How did all this happen?

At first, Aurelie was lost in a deep depression, distraught over this devastating sequence of events. Only a few things penetrated the fog of her misery. Without her, the family business quickly went bankrupt, and her brother and Sam were arrested not long after and imprisoned for life. It was said the shock of it all contributed to her father's heart attack, which left him bedridden for months.

When the guards eventually started letting her use pencil and paper, she began drafting new, impossible creations she would make someday: tools, weapons, armor, decorations, even jewelry. The beauty and joy of them took Aurelie's mind off the loss of her foot, which hurt even more than the loss of her eye. A cheap prosthetic was mounted after a few months, and she could get around using a cane, but nothing felt even remotely the same.

At last, her sentence was done and Aurelie was released. As she stood outside in the daylight with all her belongings in a cardboard box, she told herself sternly not to weep or snivel. But it was hard. I have nothing, she thought. What do I do now?

"Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

When she was released, Aurelie wanted nothing more than to be an ordinary smith again. She'd missed it intensely and dreamed nonstop during her imprisonment of reestablishing the family business, but for herself alone. Just like it was in Hoenn, she thought, remembering the reality that she'd come from like a distant—yet persistent—dream.

Just like in Hoenn, she knew she would need a lot of startup capital to set herself up. In the real world, Aurelie had obtained it only by joining Rocket. But that had been in Hoenn, where she was a stranger, whereas in Kalos, her family's names and accomplishments were widely known. Surely, in this timeline, she shouldn't have any problem finding willing investors.

Oh, how wrong she was.

Unfortunately, because the Lefevre family as a whole was well-known, her own family's disgrace and financial collapse was also common knowledge. Apparently, none of the forges run by Aurelie's aunts, uncles, and cousins in Lumiose City, Shalour City, or Couriway Town needed an extra pair of skilled, experienced, reliable hands. Nor did their homes have any room for her, despite her poverty.

Despite her anger and outrage, Aurelie could hear it in their voices and read between the lines of their messages. With the taint of illegal drugs, smuggling, and misfortune hanging over her, she might chase off clients or bring bad luck to their workshops. Metalsmiths had their own superstitions—and could she blame them, when she whispered a prayer to Arceus and Heatran every time she quenched a blade?

It was the same with her steadiest, most faithful customers before her imprisonment, the banks she approached for loans, and the vendors who'd worked with her family for years. In desperation, Aurelie turned to updating her resumé for the first time in years and applying for work as a materials engineer or metallurgist. Everyone rejected her. She found herself staring at the possibility of working at Dairy Vespiqueen or Sawsbucks, the only places that might probably accept her.

Then, one day, she remembered the more dubious clients who'd commissioned weapons from her in those last weeks before her arrest. At this point, Aurelie was willing to grasp at even the slenderest thread of hope, the faintest chance. She cautiously reached out to the most recent client, the one with the most extensive commission, whom she remembered the most clearly: Lisa Bortiforte, whom she had recognized immediately from the real world as Elisabeth Fiorelli.

To her shock and gratitude, she was actually able to make an appointment to meet with her.

Lady Bortiforte received Aurelie in her exquisitely appointed corner office at Bortiforte Industries. The red-haired smith couldn't help feeling gawky and out-of-place amid the graceful, fragile, yet businesslike furniture: an elegant mahogany escritoire with dozens of pigeonholes filled with notes and paperwork, a matching chair with gilded ornamentation, a stained-glass lamp, and a dozen irises in a crystal vase. The regal blonde gazed at her over steepled fingers, her emerald eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

"Mademoiselle Lefevre," she said coolly, arching an eyebrow. "I must admit, I hadn't expected to hear from you again. Please accept my sympathies for your family's misfortunes since we last spoke."

Aurelie squeezed her eyes closed for a moment and then nodded, focusing on keeping her balance with her cane. "Thank you, Madame. And please accept my condolences on your loss," she added, recalling her husband's recent death in the news.

Was there a flicker of Lady Bortiforte's eyelids? "Thank you," she replied smoothly. "Well, Mademoiselle Lefevre, you requested an hour of my time. What do you wish to discuss?"

This was Aurelie's chance. She briefly described her current predicament, which drew no reaction from Lady Bortiforte. "And then I remembered your commission. I thought, surely, you might have need of more than a few knobbly poison rings. I would be willing, more than willing, to work as your personal craftsman of weapons, jewelry, tools, whatever you needed. If you ever wanted someone willing to make anything you could ever need from metal, this is your chance."

"Ah," the blond woman said simply. She turned in her chair slightly, and Aurelie was surprised to see a Leafeon on her lap, which she petted absently as she spoke. To Aurelie's dismay, she went on, "I'm afraid I've no need for anyone like that, Mademoiselle Lefevre."

The red-haired smith felt her heart sink. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry to have wasted your time." She started to turn to leave.

"I have not dismissed you yet, Mademoiselle Lefevre," came the swift lash of Lady Bortiforte's retort, her steel-hard tone bringing Aurelie up short. "I have an eye for the...unique. Your rings were fine work. I recognize your expertise and your difficult circumstances.

"What do you know of Bortiforte Industries, Miss Lefevre?"

Aurelie blinked and stammered out an awkward reply, something about security equipment and alarms.

"Close enough, I suppose," the blond woman answered, the corner of her mouth curling upward in faint amusement. "We manufacture sophisticated security solutions for some of the wealthiest and most prestigious companies and organizations in Kalos. Your metallurgical expertise would be valuable for many of the physical systems we deploy to secure critical keys, documents, and Pokemon. Can you design as well as construct, Mademoiselle?"

The redhead eagerly nodded. A ghost of a smile passed briefly across Lady Bortiforte's face. "Very well. Submit your resumé and credentials for a position with our division for lockers, safes, and cages. I promise you'll be considered fairly, despite your record."

With that, Aurelie had to be content, and in all honesty, she was. She did as Lady Bortiforte suggested and was elated when she was accepted. It felt strange reporting in for work her first day, with her new ID badge and key card, but it was a relief as well.

And if it meant Aurelie was working for Elisabeth Fiorelli in this timeline as well as in her own world, well, perhaps that wasn't necessarily such a bad thing?

"Some things are in our control and others are not."

After a few weeks of applications, interviews, and practical skills tests, Aurelie was relieved to receive an email from Bortiforte Industries with a job offer as a hardware development and testing engineer.

Lest she doubt the reality of the offer, not long after Aurelie accepted, she was swiftly inundated with paperwork to fill out and sign. Nondisclosure agreements, conflict of interest statements, employee invention forms, tax forms, benefits and insurance documents—none of which she'd ever needed in her family's workshop. Who knew a real job could be so complicated? she chuckled ruefully.

On her first day, Aurelie sat through several meetings, had her photo taken for an ID and security badge, drank a lot of surprisingly excellent coffee, and hobbled through a tour of the huge, complex, stunningly futuristic facilities. Gradually, she settled into a daily routine. Going to work every day in an office didn't feel nearly as alien and uncomfortable as she'd expected—in fact, it reminded her strongly of prison.

After two weeks, she received her first paycheck from Bortiforte Industries. Eyeing the paystub, Aurelie frowned. I feel a little...dirty, almost. Like I've sold out, somehow, she thought. But...it's hard to be upset about being able to afford a full fridge and a solid roof over my head.

The first few projects she worked on in the lab were various high-tech safes and security lockers. Under bright fluorescent lighting, she and the other hardware engineers designed and constructed what were essentially big metal boxes with embedded circuitry, smart locks, electronic sensors, and exotic fail-safe mechanisms. As Lady Bortiforte had anticipated, Aurelie's knowledge of metallurgy and alloys stood her in good stead for building strong, durable, lasting, yet versatile containers.

It was unexpectedly absorbing work, and more challenging than she would've expected. Aurelie worked hard and put in long hours perfecting numerous safes, lockers, cabinets, and locks. A few months later, she was recruited to work on cages for capturing and detaining dangerous Pokemon, which was even more novel and difficult—and exciting.

I never thought I'd enjoy being away from the forge and anvil. And yet, I'm...happy? she reflected one day. How is this possible? Has it always been possible, and I never guessed? It was a strange thing to learn about herself, at this time in her life.

A year later, Aurelie was assigned to a new supervisor. Her projects gradually began shifting in tone, her team members being replaced by unfamiliar faces. Instead of building safes, the focus now seemed to be on breaking into them.

She found herself increasingly working on saws, drills, Pokemon accoutrements, and other equipment designed to infiltrate safes, vaults, treasuries, and safety deposit boxes—sometimes covertly, sometimes destructively. Her paychecks started increasing around the same time. It took her some time to realize she'd been quietly transferred to an entirely new department, one with a decidedly criminal purpose.

When she first realized this, the redhead was stunned. And then she remembered—not only was this company run by this timeline's version of venomous Rocket underboss Elisabeth Fiorelli, but Lady Bortiforte had even first approached Aurelie herself to make poison rings. There were rumors about the untimely recent death of her husband too, the company's previous CEO.

Given that, it made sense that the company might be engaged in dangerous and illegal dealings too.

It was unsettling, to be sure. Even scary, considering that Aurelie had already been to prison and didn't want to go back. At the same time, though, she found that she was enjoying designing and making these machines and devices. She was enjoying working at this company, being an engineer, even on the shadier projects.

Besides, if I quit, I'd just go back to being a disgraced former bladesmith with no connections and a damning conviction record again, she thought with a shudder. If I blew the whistle...well, who's to say I wouldn't be in just as much trouble as anyone else involved? And if I go back to prison, I'd probably be there for a long, long time.

On the other hand, if I stay and keep working here... In her current position, Aurelie enjoyed stability, money, respect, and comfort. Her conscience wasn't particularly troubled by these incursions to rob or spy on the rich, powerful victims, either. Especially when she was having fun in her work.

After all this soul-searching, though she said nothing, it seemed like Aurelie's supervisor and coworkers quickly understood that she knew and yet wanted to stay. They smiled more at her, their conversations became less guarded and cryptic, her projects became more ambitious and underhanded, and her pay kept increasing.

She might not be a good person, but her life, surprisingly enough, was in its own way a rather good life.

History finds a way.

Three years later, Aurelie paused before the glass doors of the Bortiforte Industries headquarters to flick snowflakes out of her hair before stepping inside. She caught her breath at the spectacular decorations, with a towering tree covered in lights, hanging snow-globe lanterns, fragrant pine wreaths, and faceted crystalline ornaments everywhere. Slot machines, roulette wheels, and gaming tables dominated the floor, testament to the opulent Casino Night theme of this company Wintertide party.

She scanned the crowd with wide, admiring eyes, taking in the gorgeous gowns and dashing tuxedos that transformed her everyday colleagues into glamorous luminaries. Everyone here was a high-ranking employee at Bortiforte Industries: managers, directors, administrators. And now, I'm one of them, Aurelie thought with a satisfied smile.

"Welcome to the party, Director," a woman in a snowy gossamer dress said to Aurelie, beaming. "And may I say, congratulations on your promotion to the directorship! We've never had the Department of Security Engineering and Espionage be headed by someone so young before."

For a moment, Aurelie was startled to hear the full name of the department she now ran, instead of its usual shortened, sanitized version as the Department of Security Engineering. Then she remembered that everyone here surely was aware of—if not involved in—the company's morally grey pursuits. From thievery, hacking, and spying to blackmail, extortion, and even a little illegal Pokemon experimentation, Bortiforte Industries had its finger in many fascinating, illicit pies.

"Thank you very much. It's an honor to be here," the redhead replied graciously, before stumping past. Despite her new prosthetic right foot, she still used a cane to walk, partially for better balance but also out of fondness for the sword blade she'd forged for it inside.

For a while, she happily mingled with her colleagues and peers, drinking, dancing, and partaking in the the lavish Kalosian buffet. Eventually, Aurelie made her way toward the wall where each department's achievements for the year were listed. The redhead no longer felt a pang of conscience as she surveyed her triumphs in infiltrating supposedly unbreakable vaults and safes and finding valuable information to manipulate politicians, judges, and celebrities.

By now, her work felt right to her. A world of covert crime was where she belonged—both here and in Hoenn. History finds a way, she thought, reviewing the events in her current timeline that had led her here. The exact nature of Aurelie's criminal activities and connections had changed, but the nature of her own personality and inclinations had not. I am who I am, no matter where or when I am, I guess.

As she came to this realization, she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Some champagne, madame?" a vaguely familiar male voice, which she took to be a waiter's, asked her.

"Yes, of course," Aurelie said at once, turning around. Then she gasped when she saw the supposed waiter, whom she recognized immediately despite the many years that had passed since she'd been pushed through his portal into this strange world.

It was Father Winter.

"Unfortunately for you, there's no champagne left," he purred. "Thank you for all your assistance, though. We've got all the data we need. Time for you to go back now!"

And before Aurelie could even utter a word of protest, let alone resist or struggle, a shimmering portal opened beneath her feet and she fell through, tumbling and crying out, to land unceremoniously back in her own timeline again.