-1- An Implausible Proposition, As Told By Maggie.



I guess the worst part of being eliminated is obvious: it hurts like hell.

It's not like I didn't see it coming; I'm not completely blind. But, seeing it coming doesn't change the facts of the matter.

A referee stood above me and told me what the judges decided. My score was too low to qualify for the next round of the event. I gathered myself up and stumbled out of the circle. Life orbs really take it out of you, but if you're a regenerator mienshao, that's usually what you're going to bring with you. If you have teammates, that is, who can give you the essential moment you need to catch your breath and recover. My trainer had not gone shopping for anything more appropriate for me to use when fighting alone, yet. I didn't stumble toward my trainer once I got off the floor, though. Manny got it in his head that he was bad luck and never watched me fight. Apparently it goes back to when he was a kid on his first summer journeying; if he can't leave completely he'll at least turn his back.

At the rim stood the victors, Anton and Franz. This competition was supposed to be size-two teams, but Manny released his other pokemon a few days ago. It was his starter, a serperior. They got along okay, but Manny lost his old job to cut-backs and he couldn't afford to feed us both on part-time. Between us living off of the battery inside our balls or someone striking out alone, the choice was easy. Caleb loved the wilderness and hated being cooped up inside, even if Carthamus Township was the pastoral village that Fenchone Plantation used to be before it built-up. I think he went north to Nybomy, but that's his story to tell.

Anton stands about a head taller than I do unless I straighten my legs up. That's not counting his mane which adds an extra half. He looks a lot less imposing with his hair down though, like I saw one time after he got hosed, literally, by a cocky vaporeon. As I approached, their trainer, Sheila, was walking away to wait for the next set of pairings to be posted on the big board, and Franz was walking the dog behind her. Franz usually carries a yo-yo instead of the large washers or holed pendants that a hypno typically prefers. I guess he's easily bored, but also easily amused. I tried to avoid him when I could because he communicates with telepathy; as a fighting type, everything he transmits to me is at least three decibels louder than he probably realizes.

I like talking with Anton, though. He and I, and Franz, are called "mute" by our trainers. Whoever coined that term either found humor in irony or was taking out his frustration that he couldn't understand us. Anyway, with there typically being at least one "talker" in any group, it's nice to be around our own kind, so to speak. I can't explain it, but when you get that T.M. that lets you speak to them burned inside your head, it changes you a little. Maybe more than a little.

Anton was deliberately ignoring me as I came to stand beside him. He does that when he hits me harder than he needs to. It embarrasses him to lay-out an acquaintance with a pure type disadvantage in front of many familiar faces in the crowd. But, after the time he pulled his punch, let me break his illusion and know for certain that he wasn't his fighting-resistant partner, and pay him back for countless times before, he would rather blush beneath his fur and ignore me in an unapologetic way than risk looking like a chump again. When he does this, I poke him in the ribs until he breaks form.

"Okay, quit doing that."

Poke.

He bristled and faced me. "Hey, I mean stop!"

"Make me stop." Poke.

"I already won our match. Lose respectably."

"Don't you mean, respectfully?"

"No." He glanced away, but the ice was broken.

The zoroark and I chatted about a lot of nothing for a few minutes. I forget the details. Mostly we shared tidbits about how our trainers had been treating us and how often we got to go on the road, which was rarely if ever. For many pokemon, that's part of your trainer growing up; either you get traded down to siblings or cousins and have to decide if they're worth obeying, or you get turned loose, or you wind up as a pet of some sort. I'm comfortable enough with the domestic lifestyle, but that's partly because mine is among the species who are at least somewhat human-shaped and compatible with their devices. My paws are articulate enough to be useful around a house. Caleb barely had flippers and it was driving him mad.

What I do remember is what happened next. Manny finally showed up. I noticed him out of the corner of my good eye as he approached from my bad eye's side. He thought I couldn't see him check his speed and try to spy on us for a moment before interrupting. When he did, he asked if I wanted to talk a little longer. I didn't want to make Manny stand around, but before I could shake my head no, Anton softly barked a noise to me that sounded like "lee stah," an approximated "please stay" from Manny's language spoken for Manny's benefit.

Manny patted me on my upper back just forcefully enough to make me take a small step forward, toward Anton. "You two share some secrets, I'll be back in five minutes."

Anton watched Manny walk around the gym toward the big board and say something to Sheila. Without turning to face me, he blurted out, "they want us to become mates."

My eyes opened wide at that.

"I've heard mine talking about it with yours on the telephone, and I think Franz is in on it, too. It's hard to keep a secret from him overnight even if she didn't tell him directly. Well, want to do it for them?"

My reaction wasn't very tactful, and it struck a lot harder than it should have, since I had not found a moment to discretely remove the life orb. My shoulders sank after I realized that I had fake-out slapped him for insolence.

He glared at me, looking truly hurt. "What did you think I meant? To couple right here in front of the village people?"

I felt silly, letting my whiskers droop. "No. No, but I don't want you to be my mate."

Anton became angry, furious. "You're not my first choice, either. You're half blind, you stink like nasty chemicals that humans think smell like fruit because you use their fancy shampoos, and you're not a very good fighter. Do you think I want to make mienfoos with lame stats?"

His words were hurtful. His always were when he got upset. This time, because maybe he knew, maybe because he didn't. He would not tell me unless I laid it out first, though.

"Anton, I didn't hit you because I wouldn't have you. You are a fine choice and any female would be a fool to turn you down. I know you want to make your trainer happy, and right now, she sees how you get around the females you like and realizes your mind and your body are both aching for a companion. It's not that I don't want to mate with you. I've, I can't believe I'm saying this, I've thought about it a few times. Okay, a lot of times. But, as much as I want to mate with you, I don't want you to be my mate."

"I know," he grumbled at me.

"What?"

"You want him."

His gaze swung from my face to that of my trainer in the distance. He knew. I felt very embarrassed; very small. I felt guilty. I felt like a traitor. In that instant I wished I'd shouted my consent when he asked. Even if he had meant what my dirty mind thought of when he asked, I would drop to my paws and offer myself to him right then and there if that would somehow be the cost of getting a second chance to say yes to his offer to be my mate and not admit in not so many words that all those times when I was alone and tried to pleasure myself to an imagined vision of Anton, I could never get over the edge unless I thought of Manny instead.

I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I was turned and made to walk away. Anton was guiding me away, which was good since the next round's combatants were filtering toward the circles.

He sat me down at a table near the most-distant circle, which would not be used during the final rounds, and took my paw with his own, seated at my left. "He isn't the kind of trainer who would accept your love physically, is he?"

I spoke more of a squeal than a word, although to humans only the tone's meaning would be noticed. "No. He thinks it's perverse. Even when the pokemon can talk and they're both clearly happy together, he still believes that a human being attracted to something so different is a sign of a mental problem or something."

"I'm sorry he feels that way. If you know this, though, why are you holding out? Why would you—"

"Why would I turn you down when I know he will never look upon me with the kind of love I have for him, when I know that you've been trying to make it look like you haven't wanted me since the first time I beat you up; when I know that we would make a happy couple together?"

Anton only nodded, twice, sharply, and subtly. He also sniffled.

"Because Anton, I have a little flame of hope burning inside me, and until I can put it out it will never stop nagging at me. That, if I can just find some way to get him to see me for who I am, and who we could be together, that he would want to be part of Us. So many times, he's given his heart to women and they've stomped on it, and he's always come back to me for support. Dammit, I don't want to be his comforter anymore! He uses me for my compassion when he's hurting but when I want him, it's always master/pokemon. It's not fair! I accept him. Why won't he accept me?"

I began to sob a little. Anton tried to put his arms around me, but I slipped beneath and away.

"No. Thank you, but, I'm not going to use you for comfort, too. I love—like—no, yes, I love you too much to make you feel what it's like to hold close someone who won't love you back because of some some stupid little hang-up."

Anton rested his arms on his legs and leaned forward, which was not much of a deviation from his usual pose. "Do you really believe that?"

"Huh?"

"That, if he could see you for who you are instead of what you are, that he would want to become part of You, together?"

I rolled my eyes; sorta. "It's impossible."

"Do you really believe that?"

Anton had never spoken to me with so serious a tone.

"No. But if I had the opportunity, I would try anyway."

Anton rose, brushed my eyes clear of welled moisture, and walked me back to an area near the lobby where we found our trainers waiting with concerned expressions.



A couple weeks passed after that day at the gym before anything came of it. I had almost completely forgotten, distracted by my chores and my hobbies.

Manny unlocked the front door and entered. "Mail call! That includes you, Maggie!"

There is a division of direct-mail marketers who specialize in targeting domestic pokemon, but they only care about talkers and pokemon who have been given agency over a portion of their trainers' League accounts' funds. I don't say their words and I don't spend their money, so what would be coming for me?

Like many domestics who have need for pockets, I carry a small bag that rests beneath my arm with a strap over my shoulder. It contained a thin stack of index cards with pictures, icons, and meaningful shapes on them. Some pokemon that are allowed to refuse, or on the contrary are denied, S.T.M. treatment learn crude sign languages. Neither Manny nor I found learning to sign within our abilities. I flashed two cards meaning, "mine, what?"

"Yeah, it has Anton's name and Shelia's return address on it, addressed to you. Maybe he wants to make peace after whatever happened between you two at the gym last time."

I took the letter and turned away.

"Hey, do pokemon write?" he asked.

I shuffled through my cards. This would need five. "No T.M., therefore, talk only."

Manny nodded and sifted through the rest of his mail while our flatmate stumbled out of his bedroom. Paul worked nights, sometimes long ones. We suspected he might be a vampire. He would creep through his door, staying in shadow, take his mail, and return to his coffin until sundown. Maybe he slept in a proper bed, but we never had the guts to ask or peek inside. All that mattered to us was that he paid at least two-thirds of the rent in exchange for never being bothered when he had the do-not-disturb tag on his door. Except for the mail, of course. Sometimes he received something "urgent," and would slip a reply envelope beneath his door about an hour later. The extra portion of the rent that Paul paid also bought him Manny's service delivering said letters to the mail office before the day's afternoon collection.

Inside the envelope I found a blank sheet of paper folded around a small electronic storage chip. I sneaked into Manny's room and borrowed his music player. There was no music on the chip, though. Instead it was a recording of Anton's voice.

"I have discussed your situation with Franz. He believes he can give you a chance to try anyway, if you truly want to. It will require significant use of hypnosis on both you and your trainer. If you really want to do this, you must run away from home, compelling him to look for you, and when he does, Franz and I will take care of him for you. As I said, Franz must hypnotize you too. It will be a lengthy process, so we must do this when no one will notice Manny's absence. Overnight, before a day he does not work would be best."

He caught me when I re-entered his room, replacing the music player.

"Was it music?"

I shuffled through my cards. "No sound."

"Oh? He must've made a mistake. Do you want to go tell him? Fenchone's not that far away and Paul slipped a couple letters through the gap so at least one of us has to get out of the house in the next twenty minutes."

I held up two more. "Different, day."

"Keep giving him the silent treatment and you'll hurt his feelings, but that's between you and him. I'll be back in a little while."

Manny reached out with his left hand and stroked me along the right side of my neck, from my ear to my shoulder. A caring caress was nice, but I wanted a hug, or even a kiss. A dull one would be enough.



That night, I barged into his bedroom. As long as the T.V. was on, it was okay. I tossed a cushion on the bed near his feet and hopped up. For a short time when we were both smaller, I was allowed to sleep at the foot of his bed, on a folded up sheet in a spare pillow case. When we got bigger and the bed didn't, I was sent to sleep on the couch, and there I was to stay. Caleb kept bedroom privileges, stretched around the bed's legs like a living moat, until shortly after Manny moved out on his own; until he tried making a go of having a live-in girlfriend. Caleb saw himself as Manny's protector, for obvious reasons, and dismissed from that duty, he stopped feeling like he had a purpose in the home.

Every few days I'd try to find a way to get T.V. time to turn into a ticket for me to get back in there. If I fall asleep first, I wake up later having been replaced on the couch. If I try to stay up, eventually he sends me away. No later than when certain special programming comes on the premium channels. My ears and nose both work better than his do; it's silly for him to fib to my face that he's going to go to sleep now, sending me back to the living room sofa. I write it off as humanity's affinity for boasting pridefully about counterfeit achievements.

I heard the door's lock click behind me as I slowly trotted down the hallway. That weekend, whatever it was that Franz and Anton figured out, I was ready to try it.



Manny barely dodged the plate that I threw at him, and some of the macaroni made contact across his chin. I wanted to stop and apologize for almost hurting him, but it was critical that I stay in character. I knew that all he heard from my mouth was structured static, but it felt good to tell him everything I told Anton, and more, and I needed to seem as angry as possible to make running away seem plausible. When he started to ask me why I was yelling at him since he knows that I know that he does not understand the sounds of my voice, I saw in his eyes something I had not seen in years, not since he was much younger.

He was an adolescent then and I was still considered a new acquisition, but we bonded immediately and I worked hard to evolve during the winter, and failing that during the spring, so I would be ready to make a good showing during our first complete summer together. He met a girl during that school year, and while I was sneaking off into the woods to fight with wilds and ferals hoping to return full-sized, he was sneaking off down the road a few blocks to spend time with her.

One day it happened, and when I recovered my senses after my transformation, I ran home as fast as I could. On all fours, even, to get there just a little bit faster. I came home to a wreck that didn't even recognize me at first sight. Manny acted like it was a home invasion when I rushed toward him, only realizing it was me when I started hugging him instead of slugging him. He tried to be happy for me, and we did have a little celebration with ice cream and stuff, but he was barely holding together through the evening, and fell apart that night.

She was the first to break his heart, and I was the first to put it back together again. He looked at me with those eyes and asked me if I would ever make him feel bad like she had. I denied with a confused tone, because I could not even imagine doing anything to him that would make him so sad. In that instant I knew I loved him. I wrapped my arms and their dangling lengths of pelt around him tight and pulled him close. I licked his neck. I kissed his cheek. I kissed his lips. He kissed them back. His bedroom door was open at the time.

Nothing strange seemed to happen until I was recalled at bed-time. That confused me, but I thought maybe his parents were a little wary of what I had become. The adorable teddy-bear 'foo they knew was now a lean mean exotic known to replace lucarios on some league teams. When I was released next I doubled-over with stasis sickness. Three weeks had passed.



I groped at the table for something else to throw, but I would not risk another close call when all that was left in reach were forks and knives. I couldn't look into Manny's eyes anymore; I was hurting him in the way I promised never to. I ran into his bedroom, slammed the door, ditched my purse, and exited through the window before he could catch up and follow me inside. I glanced back to see him sticking his head through the window I left open behind me and calling out my full name. I dropped low and I ran faster, north to Fenchone.

It really wasn't too far, or it was but I was keeping in good enough shape that I was merely exhausted instead of dead-tired when I got to Shelia's home near the southern outskirts of Fenchone Plantation. Anton met me outside and told me that Manny called earlier, expecting that I might go there for refuge. Obvious, but according to plan. Intercepted, Anton led me to an old storage shed nearby. Franz was there, ready to begin my hypnosis, while Anton disguised himself as myself, preparing to lure Manny when he arrived in town.

Franz explained why I needed to be mesmerized as he indicated where I was to sit. "For your master to see you as something other than you are is trivial, but you must never allow him to lose faith in his perception. For example, the illusion would become inconsistent if you spoke our words or used our abilities." He laid me back against a sack of mulch, and let dangle his yo-yo. It had a iridescent holographic pattern that was quite hypnotic in its own right. "I will alter your mind so you will not consider your powers casually. Also, your tongue will flap to make sounds that are of humanity, but it will form bogus words with the texture of a foreign language that he does not understand, so that you know not their grammar or syntax will not expose you. You are adept to communicating with him despite words, so trust in that, but be careful not to do so with familiarity, or he may grow too suspicious."

He had more to say, but I don't consciously remember anything after that until I awoke from the hypnosis. Manny was then beside me, also in a deep trance. Anton told me he used my appearance to lure him into a place with no witnesses, then took the appearance of a biker thug and clobbered him unconscious. He instructed me to leave the shed, but to stay nearby so I could "help" Manny when he awoke from his trance shortly after sunrise. He also warned me to always stand up straight to look the right height, and to be careful, as to anyone but Manny, I was still a mienshao.

Franz and Anton left Manny where Anton struck him, took his money from his wallet both as a service fee and to ensure the mugging seemed legitimate, and went home to get a little sleep before the new day began. I would do without. I had to be there the moment he awoke, since his first vision of me, a human me, shaking him sensible was already implanted and had to be fulfilled for this scheme to work.