Delia had lost track of time days ago.
She'd engrossed herself in her work, both research and doing Ailsa's bidding, which ironically, Delia found empowering. After the debacle with Elementary Three, she was more careful.
Delia could easily analyze the situation and direct the teams to where they needed to go within a moment. But that wasn't the reason Ailsa was proud of Delia, the reason was that she'd learned to identify a lost cause when necessary.
It broke Delia's heart but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Delia was hoping to share her theory with Spencer and work again after such a long time. But the news of his disappearance had been unsettling, of course, she wasn't supposed to know it.
Delia had overheard her conversation with Charlus, Alain, and her son.
Her son, who was barely grown-up was fighting in war because his parents had dropped out of their war. Their burden had fallen to his shoulders.
Delia sighed as she engrossed herself in the ancient texts she'd requested from Ailsa, the stelae's, and the manuscripts were written when the Xovier was first founded.
"You know," Grace said, "I think you should bite the end of your specs."
Since most of her work was theoretical, Delia had made Grace's patient room her own office. She was sitting on a chair feet away from her reading in her glasses when Grace had interrupted.
"Why?"
"Just... do it." Grace had a certain mischievous smile on her face which Delia didn't like.
She, however, did do what was asked of her. Delia bit the end of her black spectacle.
Seeing her, Grace mimicked an arrow set out to pierce her heart. "I bet if James was alive right now, he would make sweet love to you right here on this table."
Delia looked down in embarrassment, Grace had resorted to humor as the prime source of entertainment as her health worsened. She tried to put on her brave face, which fooled most but not Delia. After all, she'd spent too much time with the black-haired to be fooled by her false projection of bravery.
"Here," she tossed Grace the Unown.
"Again?" Grace exasperated, "I've already done this like a hundred times, I'm telling you your toy doesn't work."
"It's not a toy, it's an m-unown! And this time, try to connect."
"Potato-po-tah-to," Grace grabbed ahold of the omega unown.
A sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to connect with the omega. But no matter how hard her forehead creased, the golden Omega didn't bulge. It sat quietly in her arm like a pet rock.
"It's not working," Grace sighed, "are you sure it's not dead?"
Delia sighed as she got up from the chair, leaving behind hundreds of scrolls she was translating. She sat at the end of Grace's bed and took ahold of the omega.
She looked at its fine features with curious eyes, the sunlight piercing through the glass bounced off its surface and directly into her eyes.
"Were you desperate?" She asked, quoting Gary.
"As desperate as James when he was trying to get you to go out with him."
"Says the woman who got knocked up by Mark Jorum."
The omega didn't bulge but the two best friends broke into a laugh.
Samuel remembered the last time he sat on the cliff overlooking the violent shores of Haldfest.
It was weeks ago.
He'd just had a violent fight with his estranged wife in front of God knows how many people. She'd questioned and abused his work and intelligence in front of his colleagues and son.
He felt bad for what he did to Ailsa, he took in her anger, when he first saw her after so many years, quite peacefully.
But there was a limit to his patience. And she'd crossed it so many times.
As he walked towards the cliff, he saw a familiar figure sitting on the edge of the cliff. His shoulders were dropped in exhaustion and pain. Samuel curled his hands into a fist as he neared his son.
"Can I sit?" He asked polity.
Charlus was more taken aback than he pretended to be, but he managed to keep a straight face. "Oh... sure."
Samuel sat down next to his son with a grunt. They sat in complete silence and watched the sun melt into the hauntingly beautiful water of the Haldfest. Samuel had raised Charlus all by himself, away from the Chamber— Ailsa's watchful eyes.
Of course, he'd spoiled him along the way. Samuel had failed as a parent much like Charlus had, but he could still tell when his son was plagued with troubles.
This was one of those moments.
"What's troubling you?" Samuel asked his son.
Charlus refused to face his father, a sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head. "Nothing," he lied.
The white-haired man was brainstorming his mind to come up with a childhood story, wherein in the end, he would turn out as a perfect father who was capable of reading his son's mind and body expression.
But Samuel wasn't a perfect father, he'd failed his fatherly duties spectacularly. When Charlus had left Gary at his doorsteps, he should've tried to understand what was going on inside his mind instead of blaming him.
There were many things that Samuel regretted, but failing to understand Charlus was still at the top of the list.
"You can tell me, Charlus," He said.
"I don't have to."
He bit his lip in sadness, of course, Charlus didn't want to share. His father had failed to listen to him when he needed him the most, he wasn't going to make the same mistake again.
"Am I a bad person?"
Samuel's eyes lit up as the words came out of his son's mouth. He repeated his question in his mind over and over again but every time it ended up sounding more stupid than it had the first time.
It was true that Charlus hadn't turned out the way he'd expected him to. Samuel had hoped for the perfect life for him, the one he was denied. A wife to grow old with and a son to watch grow up.
That was his first mistake. After all, what was the perfect life for Samuel wasn't the one Charlus wanted to have... it wasn't the one he'd deserved.
"No," said the white-haired man, "you've made some... terrible decisions in your life but that doesn't make you a bad person... it makes you... human."
Charlus noticed the disappointment on his father's face. He had been the reason for it for so long that it had become a norm. By now, he had come to peace with his identity as the screw-up.
"Terrible decisions... you're talking about Gary?"
"I'm always talking about Gary," Samuel said.
Charlus let out a deep breath, "You're still angry with me?"
Samuel was supposed to nod yes but instead, he shook his head. "I feel sorry for you. You missed an opportunity to see your son grow into this... this amazing human being."
He was supposed to feel sorry, it was only natural but Charlus didn't regret any of his earlier decisions. Leaving Gary had been a choice, it wasn't some spur of the moment crap. If he were to relive the moment he dropped the five-year-old boy in Pallet town, as much as he hated himself for it, he would make the same choice again and again.
He loved his son but sometimes, love meant letting go.
"You're not sorry," Samuel deduced.
Charlus shook his head. "Not one bit."
"Is that why you asked whether you were a terrible person?"
The brunet nodded. He'd always known the answer, but the recent conversation he had with Grace had raised some old flags.
"You know how every Pokémon has a different power?" Sam said, "how a squirtel can't use thunderbolt and a Bulbasaur water canon?"
"Is this another one of your lectures?"
The professor smiled, "Yes, be attentive, or else you'll get a bad grade."
Charlus sighed and played along.
"Just because a squirtel can't use thunderbolt doesn't mean that it's a freak or abnormal. Every Pokémon has a different set of abilities, they have their special powers."
The brown-haired frowned. "Where are you going with this?"
Samuel smiled, "Every Pokémon is unique... two Bulbasaur's are similar, two Charmander are similar but a Bulbasaur and a Charmander can't be compared. Just because they're unique doesn't mean they're freaks, son."
He was pushing his luck but Charlus couldn't help but ask, "You aren't ashamed of me then?"
His father affectionately put his hand around his shoulder, pulling his son in for a hug. "You're unique Charlus, much like your name." He broke into a laugh.
At that moment, Charlus couldn't help but shed a tear or two. He'd spent years carrying around the weight of being the family disappointment; calling himself the Black wooloo of the Oak family and Arceus knew what else. After he left Kanto, he'd never spent more than a week at any place. He figured that if he never got too attached to someone, he wouldn't be able to disappoint them.
Charlus had a long history of disappointing people, there was James, Bethany, his father, and his son.
It wasn't much but it felt good to have one name off the list.
"I'm so tired, dad."
Samuel rubbed his shoulders, "I know, son, I know."
That was before Charlus had the island to look after Spencer Hale. They were supposed to be back days ago, one could only assume that something terrible had happened.
Samuel sat down at the edge of the cliff, without Charlus, it felt so extraordinarily ordinary. But there was nothing he could do, after all, his son was gone and he was at the cliff all alone.