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Lumiose was the kind of city that never slept.
Even at night, the streets were alight with agitation and artificial lights all over. People and Pokémon moved through the bustling avenues lit up by street lamps as if trying to outrun morning, holographic screens replayed an ad for the latest Pokéstar blockbuster, Pidgeys fought for scraps of bread until a Fletchinder swooped over and stole the last piece. In the distance, the clash of trainers partaking in the grand ZA Royale echoed between buildings as bystanders watched and whooped with excitement. A policeman descended into the catacombs with a lit flashlight, shadowed by scrappy kids that had that childish smile that came before playing a prank they know will get them into trouble. Two men walked by the canal, hands intertwined and a head resting over the other’s shoulder in unashamed warmth. No one gave them a second glance.
Once, Prism Tower would have been the crown jewel of this night fever. A glorious monument that had stood for millennia at the center of the Kalosian capital, renovated a few years back with a sleek white futuristic appearance. A glorious sight of modernity with glass panes all over and shimmering lights that lit up the dark like a lighthouse of beauty and extravagance.
Once.
South-West of where the Tower once stood however, was a building of stark contrast.
Hotel Z was an establishment as rich in history as the city itself. A modest six-story building, just tall enough so that its rooftop stood above any nearby construction. A couch, a chair and a café table rested on top, arranged in such a way as to have a clear view of Prism Tower. The facade had a modest appearance, with simple white stone overrun with ivy and vines that covered the cracks in the age old masonry.
And tonight, under the pale light of the moon, far above the noise and excitement of the vibrant life of the city, a door slammed open.
Morgane stood in its opening, posture tight, right hand squeezing around the handle as if trying to crush it. She was breathing heavily through her nose, her eyes unfocused.
She sported black hair with golden balayage styled in a flyaway short cut, a long bang hiding most of her right eye. Her left was colored olive-green, with a black eyeliner hiding the dark circles that lay underneath and a single beauty spot below. Her pale face was littered with freckles, the multiple small punk metal earrings in her ears reflected the artificial lights shining from another rooftop.
She was dressed nicely tonight. Morgane had gone for the “classy punk” aesthetic most of the city knew her for, that charmed the high society of the SBC while still making her look like she belonged with the Rust Syndicate next to Corbeau. She wore a clean black blazer with repeating dark-gray damask motifs over an all-black blouse that Naveen insisted on tying firmly at the neck. It was paired with matching chino pants with similar motifs to the blazer, and had traded her usual boots for black loafers borrowed from Lida. Her fingerless gloves were off for once, serving no purpose in the casual event downstairs. She had wanted the outfit to scream “proud”, “controlled”, yet still “herself”.
Now, the entire look would have made her blend into the night if not for the light of the stairs.
Morgane closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing her hand to unclench the door handle.
Pressure left her body all at once. When she opened her eyes, she meticulously closed the staircase entrance and reached for a switch on the wall, turning on a small night lamp that stood on the small table by the door.
Now alone, she slouched over the northern railing, bare hands grabbing the metal bars, and looked over the bustling city.
It felt peaceful, somehow.
Prism Tower still stood at its center, in ruins.
The cataclysm that almost ravaged the city - that she prevented, she noted with a hint of bitterness - had stripped down Kalos’ crown jewel to its bare metal skeleton. Vegetation and rust had grown all over in the wake of the life energy that once coursed through it. Four poles that were once living defense mechanisms, taller than buildings, stood next to each foot. Its top, once a beacon of Kalos’ elegance and beauty, was now the ruins of a giant gaping maw that never got the chance to close. Two beams extended from it, once designed to concentrate and fire the power to end life, now served as bird perches for flying Pokémon.
No light came from it, nor from the natural park that had formed below. Nature had reclaimed Mankind’s arrogance once more. A single holographic barrier was raised around it, separating people and wild Pokémon.
Morgane didn’t close her eyes. She kept watching on, as if expecting the tower to come alive with the power of an ancient weapon once again. A weapon that was built by the very man that-
She shook her head. She came here to forget about him. This didn't help.
Pivoting around, she leaned her elbows against the railing and gazed up at the night sky. Artificial lights blotted out the stars, but even still, the moon was visible.
She hated feeling this way.
AZ had taken her in a little over two years ago now. He had found her digging through the trash, desperate for food.
She remembered the fear, getting caught and expecting the police to be called on her. She remembered the whiplash, seeing the tower of a man - twice her size despite slouching over, so tall that his clothing were made of multiple pieces sewn haphazardly together - smile a kind, patient smile he had learned over thousands of cursed years forced to roam the Earth. She remembered him giving her a room and food, free of charge. She remembered the distrust, the warmth, the love.
Was it all fake?
The door to the roof slammed open once more.
“There you are!” Urbain exclaimed with a smile. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
He stood in the entrance, a hand loosely resting on the handle, the other on his hip. His posture was infuriatingly casual, matching his choice of outfit - the usual blue sports top with white joggers and light red running shoes, as well as his late mother’s brown jacket. His hair was messy, a light blond bed-cut with red trims. He wore the style of a man with no care in the world for people’s opinions. Certainly not dressed enough for the event.
Morgane rolled her eyes and shifted, turning her back on him to gaze once more over the night city.
“I’ve been here for like, two minutes,” she responded, dry. “Don’t get your pants in a twist.”
His footsteps echoed in the rooftop as he moved over next to her, leaning against the railing with a posture that looked as effortless as it should have been uncomfortable. His irritating smile didn’t drop.
“Come on, don’t be like that,” he teased. “The party downstairs is for us two, you know! Of course people notice you going missing. It’s not every day we save Lumiose City, right?”
She looked at him for a brief second - and barely prevented herself from flinching. His entire being was way too close for comfort. His dumb face held an edge of calculation few people noticed. Urbain gave off the impression of being both naive and dense, trusting to a fault. And he was. He once borrowed money from the mafia because he thought the boss looked like a nice man.
But on top of that, he was also really good at figuring people out.
Getting under their skin with a friendly smile and drawing out an inner truth even they didn’t suspect. Lower their guard and reveal their inner selves with ridiculous food and boundless friendliness.
She hated how exposed it made her feel.
Morgane snarled, shifting further away from Urbain.
“Big deal. People will survive without me for a few minutes. They’ll be fine.”
She could feel him frowning without even seeing his face.
“... Will you?”
Her hands clenched the railings.
There it was.
The concern. The care.
She had left the party because she could not look anywhere without being reminded of his absence. How wrong it felt to celebrate without him here, watching quietly from a chair in the corner, a smile on his face, cane on his lap and Floette at his side. How fake the smiles and laughter felt.
She couldn’t stand it.
“Yeah,” she lied. She didn’t even spare a glance towards him, eyes fixated on Prism Tower in the distance as she nodded anyway.
“Leave it alone,” she wanted to say. She didn’t.
Urbain stayed silent for a painfully tense moment, as she could feel his scrutinizing gaze figuring her out. She forcefully relaxed her shoulders and looked away. Only too late.
“Yeah, I don’t believe it,” he said bluntly. “Come on, what's wrong?”
“Buzz off.”
“Nope!”
She turned back towards him with a growl.
“I said buzz off, Urbain. Go back to your stupid party, I’m fine.”
“Not without you I won’t!” He smiled cheekily, teasing. “Come ooooon, you can tell me.”
“Stop!” Her fingers tensed around the railing so hard it hurt. “I-”
“Is it the party?”
That threw her off. She flinched as if attacked, taking a step back and looking at anywhere but him.
“N-no the… the stupid party is fine,” she said, only keeping the edge of her voice from breaking through sheer will. “Lida and Naveen have put a lot of effort into it and half of Lumiose is here. It’s fine.”
“So you say,” he leaned towards her, an amused eyebrow raised. “And yet you’re here. Not there.”
“I told you to buzz off, Urbain,” she raised her voice and crossed her arms. “Why can’t you-”
“Leave you alone? Not until I know what’s wrong-”
“I don’t need your help, Urbain!”
“I know, and I’m still helping you.”
“For f- I DON’T NEED YOU TO FIX ME!”
He stood stunned, mouth agape and eyes wide. His posture finally betrayed a hint of tension, she noted with twisted satisfaction.
She seethed at him through bangs of hair. Her arms and hands were sprayed wide at her sides, fists closed.
Her wrath didn’t subside.
“I’m sick and tired of your ‘hero complex’ bullshit dude, seriously. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want it! Just-” she cut herself off.
She closed her eyes and looked away, holding back words she knew she would regret. Anger stayed brewing strong. She contained it inward by tightening her fists in a desperate attempt at control.
“Just leave me alone. Okay?”
Unfortunately, Urbain always was quick to recover.
“Wha- hey come on, where is this coming from? I just wanted to-”
“Help!?”
His mouth shut so fast it made a clump sound, no doubt as he realised his mistake.
“Oh, because ‘Mister Hero’ here decided to play pretend I must need him to fix what’s wrong with me, huh!? All my problems will magically be solved by midnight then! Well, tough shit dude. The world doesn’t work this way. Sucks to be us, right!?”
“But, I-”
“Shit happens, Urbain. That’s it. And you can’t just make every situation better with a smile. Children still get hurt by those supposed to protect them. Kids still go hungry on the streets. People still die. That’s life. If you want to be a hero so bad, then great! I don’t care!”
She pointed a finger at his chest.
“But do it far away from me.”
…
Her throat was thick. The fight left her, exhaustion taking over. Urbain stood frozen like a Deerling caught in headlights.
She turned her back on him, slouching back against the railing and staring at the horizon.
She was tired. And angry, still. But mostly tired.
“I- I… I didn’t mean to,” his voice cut through the silence, so quiet she barely heard it. “I swear.”
She stayed silent. He gulped.
“Is… is this about A.Z.?”
Her blood ran cold.
“Don’t.” Her tone was clipped, desperate.
“You’re… you’re still mourning, aren’t you?” His was careful, gentle.
“Seriously,” she raised her voice. “I said don’t, Urbain.”
“It’s- it’s okay to miss him, you know?”
“Fuck off.”
His scrutinizing gaze was still on her, seeing too deep. Her whole body was locked up with tension, her posture was closed off, she couldn’t take her eyes off of Prism Tower - and she knew he filed it all like pieces of a puzzle he was trying to solve.
Again, she could feel her temper start to boil.
He leaned back over the railing, matching her posture with the loose nonchalance he so effortlessly performed. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion she couldn’t place.
“I didn’t know you cared so much about him.”
“I don’t,” she retorted, dry.
She felt him frown without even seeing it.
“Bullshit.”
“I don’t!”
“And I don’t believe you.”
“I said that I don’t! I-” she groaned in annoyance and turned back to him, fire in her eyes.
“I don’t care! He was a psycho, Urbain. One who lived for far too long, that hid things from us! Just so he could play puppeteer while WE solved all the mess HE made in the first place!”
He winced, tensing up.
“You don’t mean that-”
“I do!”
She didn’t.
“I fucking do! He was there, and now he’s gone. There’s nothing more to that. I don’t know how else to tell you: I don’t fucking care, Urbain. He used us. Deal with it.”
“Come on, you’re not being fair,” there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice now. “You can’t blame him for-”
“For what, for lying to us!? He knew he was dying for months, Urbain. Months. He knew it, from the start. He wouldn’t make it past that night. And he didn’t tell us shit. Not about the weapon at the center of the city - that HE built, mind you. Not about his incoming untimely demise. Did you forget that he commissioned Naveen for a new suit, just so he could take it to his grave!? Did you forget that he arranged the funeral!?”
“I know!” he finally shouted. His temper was rising too. “I- Don’t you think I know!? But how can you be so angry about this? He mattered to us all. He mattered to you, too! Don’t pretend he didn’t!”
Her eyes widened for a second as she took another step back, recomposing herself in a flash and turning away.
“... I was an idiot for ever thinking it could be different,” she quietly admitted, voice breaking. “He reached out his hand, and I was a fool for taking it.”
Her fists uncoiled.
“And now he’s dead, Urbain. He was here, now he’s not. Simple as that. I don’t care anymore.”
Silence filled the rooftop. She could hear the heaviness of his breathing, disbelieving. The echo of laughter from the party downstairs, carried through the wide open door to the stairway he hadn’t bothered to close.
A sudden pressure seized her right wrist.
She pivoted and pulled back her arm on instinct, her eyes meeting Urbain’s. There was hurt and determination in there. He didn’t let go.
“I don’t buy it.”
“Oh fuck off!” She pulled back harder, breaking his grasp, and pushed him back with a shove. “How many times do I have to tell you!?”
He stumbled backwards, a hand finding the railing to stabilize himself. His expression didn’t change.
“You can pretend all you want, I know you’re lying to yourself.”
She groaned and put a hand to her head in annoyance, the other squeezing the railing tight.
“You’re impossible!” She yelled. “I! Don’t! Care! Why is it so hard for you to believe!”
“Because I know you!” He retorted, yelling back. “Because we’re a team!”
She huffed a dry laugh.
“Is that what we are, now!? A team? Oh, leader my leader!?”
“Wha- of course we are!” He flinched back, taken aback. “Forever and always!”
“Come on, save us some time. Drop the humble act, oh great hero of glorious glory,” she mocked with a tone fit for theatrical performance.
He looked almost offended at that, she noted with pride as he rolled his eyes up to the sky.
“Again? Where do you even get that? We worked well together, didn’t we?”
“Oh, did we!?” She all but barked in his face. “I distinctly remember you losing our duel, right before the Ange, and still insisting to go inside, because you just had to do it, didn’t you? Because it just fed so well into your little ‘hero’ narrative, didn’t it!?”
“That’s-”
“And look how it worked out!” She gestured at the remains of Prism Tower. “While Mister leader of Team MZ was busy playing ‘videogame princess in distress’ inside an ultimate weapon, who do you think had to pick up the slack, huh!?”
“I-”
She kept pressing onward, not giving him the chance to speak.
“And so, now we’re a team, right!? When it’s convenient for you!? Like you didn’t just abandon us!?”
He frowned. “But-”
“Don’t you dare pretend you didn’t. Monsieur Urbain finally finds his grandma, and turns out she’s the fancy CEO of Quasartico! So of course now that he’s taking over the company, what time does he even have for his friends!?” She pressed closer, getting in his face with a finger at his chest.
“Who cares about them anyway!? Leave them all behind, right!?”
“Like you didn’t!” He finally bit back.
“Where were you, when A.Z. died!? When we mourned his death, when we had to carry on? For the Hotel, for Floette? You locked yourself in your room for a week-”
Her vision went red. Morgane didn’t even register what she was doing until she was there, a fist grabbing the collar of his coat, pushing him against the railing. She was breathing heavily, her left arm ready to throw a punch.
She looked into his eyes. She saw deep, immediate regret. And fear.
Fear was the worst part.
Her breath quickened, her vision blurred. She looked at her hand on his collar, at her fist, shaking.
She hated herself for it.
She let him go, already turning away as he hit the ground with a grunt.
She looked at her palms, trembling.
“... Morgane.”
She glanced at him. He was kneeling, cautious. As if approaching a dangerous wild Pokémon.
Dangerous.
She should say something, apologize.
“It’s okay,” he whispered.
It wasn’t.
Her hands coiled back into fists.
She ran.
Her body moved forward before her mind even caught up.
Urbain realized what she was going to do only a beat after, pushing off the ground.
“MORGANE!” He called, hand outstretched.
He missed her.
She jumped over the railing, plummeting into the dark embrace of Lumiose’s night.
Urbain stood silent, breathing heavily as he heard the sound of a Poké Ball opening, the flap of wings and the cry of a Noivern. He rushed to the railing, only to see a figure riding off the Pokémon into the night.
He messed up.