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Espionage was never Lance’s forte.
There was no denying its usefulness, though; intelligence was the heart of every operation’s victory, and it was no exaggeration to say that Lance would not be alive this long, had he not been protected by correct information that guided him in every villain-thwarting mission.
So, for someone whose brute nature specialized in kicking down doors and blazing into illegal headquarters with his three Dragonites, Lance felt horribly wrong-footed when he froze before the opened door, instinctively planting himself flush against the wall when his ears caught, “Tell me then, Silver: what are your plans for your future?”
There was a pause, and Lance found himself holding his breath for a painful stretch of time until Silver finally croaked out, “My future?”
In that moment, every cell in Lance’s body screamed at him to turn around and slither back toward the direction he came from; pretend that nothing was amiss, as if he did not just grasp a heart-stopping question spoken to his son. One that, apparently, flipped not only Lance’s world for the matter.
A parent, especially a non-biological figure who stepped up midway in a child’s development, has no right to be privy of every small, minute detail that went down in their child’s life— this, Lance understood and accepted wholeheartedly. The Dragon’s Den was, quite literally, the equivalent of the Unovan Dream for every aspiring dragon tamer; you get the elders’ seal of approval here, then you could make it anywhere with your indestructible Dragon-type team. What laid beneath such prestige, however, was a difference in what entailed between being raised as a child and trained as a dragon tamer by Blackthorn City’s finest specialists, and…
The horrendous lack of privacy for all hours, along with the limited freedom that a child could get there? Both aspects forsaken in the name of grooming the best dragon experts that history has ever seen, debuting young proteges to boost the clan’s honor?
Living there from a young age was not for the faint of heart, and if it were not for his admiration for dragons themselves, Lance would not turn out the way he was now— harsh and tough as he was ruthlessly forged to be, but behind closed doors, he considered himself to have a more humane, kinder side to balance out the elders’ influences on him. It was sufficient to say that he was born into this world as a human child, but he came out of Blackthorn City’s cave resembling the dragons that he loved more; suppressing a lot of his past anger in his heart, but only acting on them once someone foolishly entered his den.
No child or mentee of his would undergo that suffocating strictness, Lance had promised to himself.
It was an oath Lance was keen on keeping until the very end. Besides, Silver was far from the troubled child that he claimed himself to be, early on in their relationship; his son defied both his self-depreciating words along with what his bloody past had taught him to be, coming out as a sweet teenager that Lance only learned to become at a much older age.
There was no need for him to be a helicopter parent, or even to keep his son on a short leash like what the elders had done to Lance, but then…
Geeta was not the only one who had a similar concern: Lance, too, has spent many times studying Silver, watching his son lose baby fat and gain with it a gleam of wiseness in his lilac irises, and wonder about what he wanted to do, after their stint in Pasio came to a close?
“Any particular path that you want to take? The journey doesn't end just because you've beat your regional Champion in Pasio,” Geeta ventured on, blissfully unaware of the extra set of ears listening from the other side of the wall. “You can travel the world and see what other regions have to offer, become a professional under an expert's tutelage, or maybe settle for a civilian job. Perhaps you can even be a reigning Champion and bring your home’s Pokémon League to greater heights. The possibilities for your future are endless, so what will your choice be?”
Once more, silence blanketed the tense air, much too prolonged and deafening for it to be anything but an honest mistake.
Lance despised himself for inching toward the door, once he heard Silver take a measured breath.
“I... I don't know,” Silver admitted, sounding very much like the child he still was; unsure and hesitant at the face of a brave new world, of a clean slate that was entirely his to make a home out of.
This was usually the time for adults to pat the youth in the back and say there’s still time for you to figure it out, kid, but Geeta was never one to back down. Humming, she pressed on, “What do you mean?”
“I just never thought that far; never really had the luxury to do so, until I came to Pasio recently. My focus has always been about how to survive day-to-day, even after I got my Trainer ID,” There was the sound of fabric rustling and falling into place, which probably meant that Silver was shrugging his shoulderness. Even without seeing him, Lance could sniff the fakeness out of his casual calm; with the leaps of progress he has, opening up to someone new was still a work in progress for Silver. A twist always awaited him, in every story, but Lance never saw this one coming from his son's mouth: “The end goal for me will always be to become the strongest Trainer in the world. I just haven’t figured how to get there, or what I want to do after I achieve that title. I'll also need to ask Lance about this, too.”
Lance’s breath was punched out of his lungs, even though he was quick to slap his hand over his mouth, lest he wanted to ruin his secret spot.
Apparently, he was not the only one devastated by the implication hidden between Silver’s words.
Ignoring the fact that this was the most words that Silver has spoken to her, Geeta zeroed in only on what had caught her interest. She almost seemed hesitant, though, when she finally broached her curiosity, all awkward and stiff as she wondered, “Champion Lance? And why would you need to discuss your future with him?”
“Well, he’s my dad,” Silver replied, as if that truth alone would give Lance the opportunity to monopolize his life, down to the decision of his precious future. The dragon master felt sick to the stomach, and he instantly replayed each memory that he formed with his son, all while questioning if he was the one who had instilled this misleading idea to Silver. How else would he explain the history that he tried to eradicate repeating itself in this very moment? “I thought you knew that already?”
“I see,” Geeta softly acknowledged, speechless in a way that Lance has a feeling she could understand, too, as a fellow adult. The last thing that he heard from her as he slipped away was, “I suppose these things should be discussed with family, first and foremost.”
Knowing Silver’s lingering tendency to shoulder his burdens by himself, the million Pokédollar question, for Lance, was this: when would his son be comfortable enough to approach him about his future?
Now that the crowning ceremony was finished, their celebration party finally kicked off, starting strong with Ethan, Lyra, and Kris throwing themselves onto Silver for a group hug. For once, Pasio’s newest Neo Champion simply chuckled at the affection he was showered with, and he fielded the stream of praises and challenges thrown by other guests with the same, genuine gratefulness, too. Lance had his time already to congratulate his son, so for now, he watched on from the adults’ dining table, tracking every shift in Silver’s expression from the corner of his eyes.
Lance was not the only one whose gaze was glued to Silver, as it turned out.
“Did anyone at the G-Men ever tell you that you’re a terrible spy?” Geeta started, locking their eyes as she took a sip from her champagne flute. The warmth in her tone betrayed her cheeky insult, and so did her choice of speaking in a whisper. Perhaps it was no coincidence, Lance thought, that the only empty seat left in their area just so happened to be the one right next to him. “You know that Lear has every tiled floor polished enough for it to practically be a mirror, right?”
Caught red-handed, Lance could only smile somewhat woefully. Geeta never left any stones unturned, even if it was his shadowy figure that was outed by his own reflection. “If it’s worth anything, I was only supposed to fetch him so that we can start the party. I wouldn’t have guessed that you were talking to him.”
“Mhm, of course. You accidentally stumbled upon a much interesting prospect, instead,” Geeta proposed, the shine in her azure irises sharpening into a dangerous glint, when she leaned close to peer deep into Lance’s soul. As a dragon tamer, Lance always ensured to carry himself with grace, enough for the people around him to look at his caped back with respect. To the innocent, his regalia became a symbol of hope; to the villains, it was a daunting terror to encounter. No one has ever made Lance feel small, with or without his full getup, except for Geeta tonight. “How convenient that a talented, emancipated youth just so happened to be mentored and doted on by the Blackthorn clan’s prized gem. Is that the only thing that Silver is for you: your next successor in the long line of dragon masters?”
The other Champions that shared their table were too absorbed in their own conversations to notice the deathly grip Lance has on his flute, knuckles morphing white and ready to crack the glass’ thin stem with a snap.
“Did nobody in Paldea’s Pokémon League ever tell you that you won’t get an honest truth by antagonizing others?” Lance challenged, rising up to her taunt with a scowl on his face. Call him a hot-headed fool to take her bait, but he was not going to be dragged by someone who only knew his son in the span of a week. “Did you stop for a second and think, as a parent, of how saddening it was to hear that your child doesn’t allow themselves to dream about their own future, all because their reality never allowed them space to just live and survive? Or how gut-wrenching it is, to hear the insinuation that they aren’t allowed to choose their own paths from their own lips?”
In his pettiness, Lance expected Geeta to at least flinch back; maybe put a dent in that perpetually-poised calm she always seemed to control. What he got, instead, was a smug, pleased smile that bloomed on Geeta’s lips and threw Lance in a loop, as if he had stepped onto a booby-trap that did not explode on his face. The puzzle pieces finally clicked in place for him when she airily replied, “I can’t, because I’m not a parent by any means, but I did manage to seek a truthful answer out of you, no?”
The fight left Lance’s body as soon as he registered her teasing tone, and if he was close to Geeta like a friend, this would be the moment where he would kick her seat back with enough power to dangerously tip it over. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lance took a long inhale and groaned, “Arceus, you’re killing me here, Geeta. You couldn’t have just asked me like a normal person?”
“And where would the fun in that be for me?” Geeta joked, looking just as ready to playfully jab her bony elbow into his arm. Before she could even reach his space, she suddenly froze, the change near-imperceptible to anyone who had not been studying her intently just before. Lance’s sharp eyes caught the same, small disturbance as the one she saw in the Battle Villa ballroom: Silver had carefully inched himself out of the crowd, fleeing the scene quietly as soon as he thought that no one was looking, disappearing like a wispy shadow in the swallowing darkness.
Something must have shown on Lance’s face, then, as Geeta shifted to grasp his clothed arm instead. Her next words were as gentle as the encouraging squeeze in her touch. “I know that you’re a good man, Lance, and that’s exactly what makes you a good parent. If there’s anyone in this world who can show Silver that he can carve and own any path that he wishes for, then it’s you.”
It felt a lot like getting a push from his back to run ahead, releasing the coil winding tight inside of Lance’s stomach, once he realized that not all was lost— that this, most importantly, was salvageable. Standing up, he flashed a genuine smile at Geeta and was surprised by how naturally it came, knowing that they barely passed the point of being friends. Saluting her, he then bid her goodbye. “Duty calls, then. Thanks for the pep talk.”
Behind him, Geeta quietly raised her flute of champagne in Lance’s general direction, praying for the same outcome as the worried dad.
Anyone else would claim it as being predictable, but Lance liked to think that he just understood his teenage son well, enough to instinctively have a few guesses ready about where he would hide, in this kind of situation. The location has to be tucked away from unwanted eyes, but leaving enough room for fresh air and a view of the sky’s beautiful canvas, for it to not be constricting.
That was how Lance ended up on the Battle Villa’s vacant rooftop, letting his gut feeling guide him along a flight of dimly-lit, deserted stairs, finding the door’s steel lock broken through with scratch marks from a set of three, lethal Pokemon claws.
With the starry night as his silent witness, unbothered by the freezing winds nipping at his exposed skin, there his son was: Silver leaning his crossed arms against the metal railings, his suit jacket flapping languidly with the wind, lilac irises already set on the door as if he knew to expect company. His son looked at Lance like a child who recognized, then, that a crucial talk was imminent between them, and it was not one that he could weasel out of, either.
No one was supposed to be here, so only muted, yellow lights lined the edges of the rooftop floor, bare from anything else except for the heavenly bodies’ distant glow. The closer he stepped into his son’s space, that delicate illumination was what aided Lance in catching the misty sheen reflected in Silver’s eyes, highlighting his flushed nose and the sniffle he unsuccessfully hid, too.
Lance was no stranger to grief, but it still had the gall to sneak on him undetected, punching his breath out of his lungs once it dawned on the older man that, calm and composed as he may be on the outside, this issue weighed heavier than Silver was letting it show.
Now was the time to make good on that promise Lance made for his future kid.
“I’m guessing that Geeta snitched on me?” It was a brave thing to start a conversation, but the upper hand that Silver hoped to get vanished when his voice came out all wrong, wet and hoarse around the edges. Head shaking, Silver looked away, gripping the railing with white-knuckled fists. “I shouldn’t have answered her question like that. That was an idiotic mistake on my end, I’m sorry.”
The pang in Lance’s heart went off like a bomb; Silver had said nothing wrong, and yet for a reason beyond Lance’s grasp, it was drilled in his son’s head that truthfully admitting his uncertainty was a damning fault.
“No, she didn’t say anything. To be frank, I’m the one that’s supposed to be apologizing here, Silver,” Lance interjected, determined more than ever to make everything right, as well as to sweep away the sadness that had no right to haunt Silver tonight, of all days. Carefully, Lance rested both hands on Silver’s shoulders, the act deepening the confused furrow in his son’s eyebrows. “What actually happened was that I walked in on your conversation with Geeta, when I looked for you before the party started. That’s how I learned of what went down. I should have walked away, gave you the privacy that you deserve… but I didn’t. I owe you an apology for that.”
There was a pause, as Silver's piercing gaze landed on him, and it was ironic how oxygen seemed to evade Lance when they were currently outdoors. He mentally prepared for rightful backlash, or even for a verbal fight to occur, but the apology flew right past Silver, as he tilted his head at Lance.
“You were curious to know what I’d say,” Silver pointed out, stating it less like a question, and more like a fact; as if it was perfectly fine for a parent to violate their child’s privacy that way. Once more, Lance was left disoriented by how well his son was taking this, especially when Silver added, “And it’s your right to know, anyway.”
Lance made the mistake of not reigning his self-control harder before this conversation unraveled; he regretted it the second the gasp escaped his lips, as Silver shrunk in on himself, as best as he could under his grip.
But how could Lance not be aghast, at all the things Silver has said to him in the span of 5 minutes?
As a bad omen crept into his mind, Lance started to evaluate his earlier conclusion, coming to a half-baked conclusion that, maybe, someone prior to Lance was responsible for fallacious Silver’s beliefs this way. It was the only theory that made sense, to explain just how deeply-rooted this belief actually was.
“I am curious, but that still doesn’t excuse my behavior,” Lance repeated, trying his best to not visibly wilt when Silver’s puzzlement did not lift up, a war still waging behind his lilac irises. He owed it to his past self, and to Silver, to make things right, and so Lance took a sharp turn, letting Silver’s shoulders go as he carefully laid out, “You must know, Silver, that while ideally, a parent should be informed about future career and life decisions that their child will eventually make, it doesn’t entitle the parent a right to snoop behind their child's back to learn beforehand about their decisions, let alone to dictate what their child should be. There’s a distinct difference between them.”
Yet another silence stretched on, and as if time had slowed, Lance could parse the shift inside of Silver, once he recognized that all these puzzle pieces in his hands did not match; of two notions that existed when only one held the truth, both vying for its place in his mind. Silver glanced at Lance, then, much like a boat would at a lighthouse to guide it in a foggy night, as he hesitantly trailed off with, “I don’t follow?”
Okay, Lance thought, gathering his courage before he launched into his next step. There is hope.
“It’s okay if you’re still taking the time to figure out your future,” Lance slowly spelled out, because that was an important detail that he needed to smooth out, first and foremost; the crux of this whole dilemma. That mayhem brewing inside of Silver fought harder, when clarity was so close within his grasp, his eyes widening at the change it carried. “And it’s also okay to be whoever you want to be, for your future. I only ask that you make decisions that stay true to yourself; ones that you make for your own happiness and well-being, and not for anyone else.”
The sound of a needle could be heard if it was dropped at this very moment.
“Huh?” Silver murmured, as his eyes sharpened into a crazed look, torn in the way that people became, when they stood at the brink of a collapsed world, not sure if the crumbling reality they witnessed was even real. It made sense, with the mad scramble for words that his son fathomed next. “I-I don’t understand. I thought you'd eventually want me to go down the same path as you: train long and hard enough in the Dragon’s Den to become a dragon tamer, or become someone important enough in the Pokémon League of some region, or maybe… both. Wasn’t that one of the reasons why you adopted me? Because one day, you'd need a heir?”
Those questions dragged Lance into the same whirlwind that dragged Silver down, tilting his world off its axis, because where in Arceus’ name did his son get that deranged idea?
“What? Silver, no, that’s not—” Lance stopped himself, at a loss for words, because he never once mentioned anything about this. Strangers like Geeta may assume so, but it made Lance doubt himself all over again, on whether he has said enough about how loved Silver just the way he was; as his pure-hearted, kind son. The question that was burning in his mind came tumbling out, then, said in a shaky, raspy whisper of disbelief. “How'd you even come to that conclusion, Silver?”
Silver flinched like Lance was wielding a sharp knife aimed above his heart, ready to cut him open and see if he was, actually, worthy of holding the title of being his son deep inside.
The thing that no one told Lance about parenting was this: more than once, he wished for the ability to turn back time, just so he could avoid seeing the agony that drowned Silver’s lilac irises, dark and raging like a stormy sea. Arceus, he would use that power to save Silver from Giovanni's abysmal parenting skill, if it meant that his son could experience life without his past dimming his wonderful shine like this.
“But that's literally why I was brought to this world: Giovanni was looking for Team Rocket’s scion, and he wanted his bloodline to continue it,” Silver countered, his breath choking around the heartbreaking epiphany before him, unable to comprehend that a child could be born for the most mundane, but fundamental life source instead: love. “Isn't that what parents want from their kids— someone to keep their legacy alive?”
Pictures swarmed in Lance’s mind, then, of the elders at the Dragon Den and a younger version of Giovanni, their disapproving glares and smug smiles warping together into the personification of a family curse; two different spectres who lingered like scorch marks from a fire, tainting vulnerable hearts with blackened scars.
In that moment, it was hard for Lance to not see himself in Silver, when his son had been wrongfully raised in the same way as he was— born to fulfill a purpose, and punished if they ever thought of becoming anything but their fake destiny.
That was why Lance had branched out to the Pokémon League, going as far as to leave his original stamp in a world that had no influence from the elders he served: to recover a part of his life that could be entirely his, and it became the best decision he has ever made all his life.
He could not completely shield Silver from such a twisted childhood, but Lance could do so now, before it became too late like it did for him; direct his son to a path full of the care and support that he rightfully deserved, and to eventually make him believe that he would not be loved any less for who he chose to be, in the future.
Even if it took a long while for such a message to sink in, Lance would gladly repeat it again and again for the small, young child whose innocence and youth should have never been corrupted this way.
“Not everyone, Silver. I'm not going to force you to be like me,” Lance carefully murmured, being mindful when he laid his hands back on Silver’s small shoulders, moving slowly and gently as he pulled Silver into a tight embrace. Silver let himself be engulfed in his arms, relaxing into it like a child who finally registered that he was back in his safe space, in the warmth of his parent's love. “That's why I never talked to you about enlisting in the next batch of students that the Dragon's Den will train as dragon tamers, nor have I ever drilled you about being a good enough battler to one day be an Elite Four, or even a Champion.”
“But why?” Silver clarified; one last roadblock for him to conquer, the truth that he never knew laying on the other side of it. Slim arms clung loosely around Lance, then, clutching weakly onto his cape, as if his son dreaded what his next question would bring to the table; like Lance would ever disappear from Silver’s life, for the simple reason of his son wanting to understand his place in this perplexing world. He wiggled apart from their hug, enough to face Lance as he repeated, “I'm your son, though?”
“It's precisely because you’re my son, Silver, that I want you to live freely. My legacy can live on in other ways, but if you do wish to take on that honor for me, then you don’t have to follow in my footsteps to do it. I don’t expect you to be any version of yourself that you don’t like,” Lance replied, and it was as easy as breathing, to say all those things he wished he heard as a child to Silver, and just as rewarding to see the relief wash over his son, erasing their traces of decade-old trauma like an incoming wave would at words written on sand. “Knowing that you're alive and looking forward to your future is already enough for me.”
“Oh,” Silver said, and finally, clarity settled where it belonged, releasing the weight and doubt that he had carried for so long in his next exhale. Lance found himself smiling, even as his son blinked back tears and shyly confirmed, “So you're saying that I'm free to do whatever I want, in my life?”
“Yes. Your life has always been fully yours, Silver. All you need to do now is to live it how you see fit,” Lance nodded, joy blooming in his heart when he caught the hope that he delivered lifting Silver’s spirit; the sun that a child like him has desperately awaited, after living a life under gray clouds. “I never took you in because I wanted a child to be groomed to be the next… me. Yes, I saw potential in you to become an amazing Trainer, but more than that? I just knew that you’re a good kid, and no matter what your past says, I was already fond of you because of that.”
Lance stumbled back a step, when Silver launched himself back into the hug, and no words were needed, then, when the way he looped his arms told everything the father knew his son wanted to convey. He let him be, hugging the boy all while patting his back, waiting until his son was ready to emerge, once his tears had dried and his shoulders stopped shaking.
When Silver untangled himself, he grinned up at Lance, unashamed of his reddened eyes and flushed nose, eyes glinting with mischief as he playfully quipped, “Maybe being the next Ice-type Elite Four isn’t so bad. That 4x advantage against your team sure sounds tempting to me.”
Somewhere deep in Lance’s heart, he could feel the younger version of himself being rescued, too, by the hope that he extended to Silver, knowing that he kept his promise, in the end.
“I think you owe Ethan a dance first, Silver,” Lance snorted, laughing along with Silver as they made their way back to the party, leaving their pain where it belonged. “Come on, Neo Champion. We can afford to celebrate for one night first before you start conspiring against me.”