“I… can’t make any promises,” she said. June didn’t want to make the other man worry necessarily. Or put herself in danger. But… money did not come to her freely. Risk was a necessary component of her life—anyone’s. She already struggled with promises for Annalise. Him? Impossible.

“But… I’ll try,” she offered.

The dream shifted. Changed. They could both feel it. Soon, they’d awaken and they’d be taken away from wherever this was. Returned to their own lives. June didn’t want to go, and she didn’t want to say. This was all too much, but it wasn’t enough. Why did it have to be steeped in the faults of the past?

Maybe it didn’t have to be.

“I think you’ll try,” she said. Their eyes locked. An urge sprouted in her mind, something almost taboo. A mockery of everything Howard wanted. But a necessary step to truly make things possible.

To forgive was to forget, or something. She didn’t know how the phrase went. “But… don’t worry about me, for the first bit. Convince Matchstick first– and then we can see what happens. She hates your guts. Wants you dead.”

“Good luck, Howard.”

As her mind traversed the dreamscape, and everything faded from reality–

So too did her memories. Left behind and burned, like the bridge Howard did months ago. But when a bridge burned, all it did was remove a path. Things were meant to be broken down and rebuilt. It was up to him to figure it out. She’d be dead weight now.

For the better.

–

“Ugh…” June suddenly clutched her head. It hurt like a mother fucker. Sun pierced her eyelids, which she opened with reluctance. They flittered against the resistance of reality, yet she insisted. Oh, right. The bus stop. The one she’d been at in December. Yet it was perfectly convenient to take a nap in. No one remembered it existed.

Like her. Well, almost true. Outside the thin panel of glass was both a Corviknight and Talonflame. They both examined her with careful, cocked heads. Incessant chirps echoed through the small space and made everything worse. “What’s your deal?”

“Squaw!” Matchstick hopped across the ground, straight up to June. She shoved her head aggressively into the delivery-woman’s chest, who had no choice but to give the bird a comforting pat. It’s like they hadn’t seen her for a while. That didn’t make any sense though.

She’d only been out for an hour or two, right?

“Caw.” Knight answered. Not like June could understand Pokémon, but she pretended he answered. So… it wasn’t? But it felt like it was. Almost perfectly. But something tugged at her brain, her mind. A memory forgotten, a dream that begged to be released from its prison. June frowned.

“Feels like I’m forgetting something important,” she looked to Matchstick, “are we late on a delivery or something?”

“Squaw!”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Squaw squaw!”

“Hmm…” June pulled her arm away and fished out her phone. It clicked awake, and she scrolled through the logs. No, no, no… yea, there was a bit of backlog, but nothing outstanding. None from Howard though– a surprise, since he loved to bother her with stupid shit. The tower came to mind.

Maybe she should shoot him a text. She flicked up, then tapped on messages. He wasn’t there. Weird. She checked the tabs, then contacts, and finally blocked people.

“Oh, that might be it,” she tapped on his name. Then, she hit ‘unblock’.

‘Are you sure you want to unblock howard slayte ?’

“No idea how that happened,” she muttered as she hit confirm. "Must've been on accident in my sleep, somehow."

---

howard slayte

FORGET
Claiming my Flygon for Shadow Pokemon

Her scheme was taboo. He would not have agreed to it. Yet in this shifting dreamscape, in this mockery that ameena abadi had concocted to play with the hearts of people while she chased her ultimate goal, all Howard could do was accept June's decision.

It felt wrong to push her away again, but this would not be forever. It was merely the razing of an old building so that something better could be formed. Even so, it still felt like treason against an ideal that Howard held as sacrosanct. The razing of the past to create a brighter future was a contradiction, but he would bear it.

"I'll find a way." It was a vague promise, unreliable, yet the path to forgiveness was an oft untraveled road. With Matchstick, he'd find a way. "I'll see you on the other side. I'm dying right now, but I'll get better."

He broke eye contact and turned away.

"June." He turned back. "Thanks for not shooting me. ■■■■■■■■■"

The rest of the words from his mouth turned to static as the tin soldier's dream collapsed.

—

When his eye fluttered open, it was stained in an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of every hue between red and blue. The hospital room was silent, save for the beep of machinery that droned on and on into infinity. Howard was familiar with the sensation. He had dealt with it for almost two months.

Regice, then Registeel, then this. The sensation of remembrance felt heavier than any fight with a titan.

"Fuck." He sat up in his bed, rubbing his eye with an odd expression. What was this? Anger? Annoyance? Despair?

No, it felt more like hope.

When was the last time he had felt that? Before Dewford, surely. The desert had offered the admin a glimpse before the steel titan had stolen it away, leaving the archaeologist with the reminder that humanity had not created their defenders alone.

Yet this was not about them. This was about her. This was about himself.

"I can fix this." Monitors beeped sporadically as Howard rose from his bed. Wires and tubes popped away as staggered to his feet. "I can do this. I walked across a fucking desert in steel, I can walk down the hall. I'm a grown ass man."

Shirley stirred from her nearby nest and looked at him quizzically. He smiled wryly and continued forward, his reflections distorted in the mirror as he continued his incessant march forward.

He owed this to her. Even if she forgot, he would remember. It was his duty to her, to himself, and to her Pokémon. Nobody deserved to forget the path that had led them to their current point, lest they turn around and walk back the way they came.

"I will fix this." A white streak of hair danced in front of his eye as he stepped into a silent hallway. He found a phone and unceremoniously pawed at the keypad, dialing for a number. His vision swam. The recipient of this call would hate him for it, but it had to be done.

It had been their idea, after all.

"Grigori." Howard's voice was raw, unused. "I need a delivery."

---

june sleigh
REMEMBER.
ILLUMINA GHOLDENGO