Dr. Elara Frost stood near one of the computer terminals, her tablet in hand, blonde hair catching the overhead lights. She looked up as we entered, and her eyes went immediately to Gible in my arms.
"Oh, thank god," she breathed, crossing the room quickly. "When Professor Oak called and said there'd been an attack, I thought—" She stopped herself, professional composure reasserting itself. "Is Gible alright?"
"He will be," I said. "Nurse Joy patched him up. Just needs rest now."
"Let me see." She gestured to the nearest examination table, and I laid Gible down carefully.
The little dragon was still unconscious, breathing slow and steady, but his scales had that healthy crimson gleam again.
Elara pulled out a small scanner and ran it over Gible's body, checking vitals and structural integrity. "Amazing. The regeneration is perfect. No residual damage at all."
"Modern medicine," Oak said. "Hyper Potions have come a long way in the past decade."
Elara nodded, but her attention was focused on Gible, on the way his scales had reformed, on the subtle differences in coloration where new growth had occurred.
She took photographs, made notes on her tablet, and fell into that analytical mode I'd seen before.
And then Cynthia stepped closer to the examination table, and I felt the room's temperature drop several degrees. A sudden chill crept up my spine.
"Remarkable specimen," Cynthia said, her voice carrying professional assessment. "The typing change alone is unprecedented. You must be very proud of your documentation, Dr. Frost."
Elara's fingers paused on her tablet. "We documented everything thoroughly. Professor Oak and I spent weeks analyzing the transformation."
"Oh, I read your paper." Cynthia's tone was pleasant, but there was something underneath it. "Comprehensive observations. But tell me—did you determine what triggered the change?"
"The mechanism is still under investigation," Elara said, a defensive edge creeping into her voice. "These things take time—"
"Time. Yes. Or experience." Cynthia moved to stand on the opposite side of the examination table, directly across from Elara. "I've studied Dragon-type genetics for two decades. Legendary specimens, ancient lineages, and evolutionary anomalies across four regions. When I look at this Gible, I see patterns you might have missed."
Elara's expression tightened. "We had no reference point. This was completely novel—"
"Novel to you, perhaps." Cynthia ran a finger along one of Gible's scales, examining the texture. "I've encountered similar phenomena in Sinnoh. Different presentation, same underlying principles. Genetic plasticity, environmental triggers, bond resonance."
"If it's so simple, Champion," Elara said, her voice going cold, "perhaps you should have been here to help. Oh wait—you were busy in Sinnoh doing... what exactly?"
Cynthia's smile didn't waver, but her gray eyes sharpened. "Managing an entire region. Handling Champion duties. Research on a scale you can't imagine. Things beyond your field observation."
"How convenient." Elara set her tablet down with more force than necessary. "You can criticize our work from a distance without contributing anything yourself."
"I'm contributing now." Cynthia straightened, and even though she and Elara were roughly the same height, something about her posture made her seem taller. "My expertise. My experience. My personal attention to this fascinating case."
She glanced at me as she said "personal attention," and I felt suddenly uncomfortable in a way I couldn't quite articulate.
Elara caught the look. "Your personal attention."
"Is there a problem, Doctor?"
"You just arrived." Elara's hands clenched at her sides. "You haven't been here for the daily examinations, the careful observations, the bonding between trainer and Pokémon. You haven't seen the dedication, the hours of work—"
"And yet I saved both their lives today," Cynthia interrupted, her voice still pleasant but with an edge now. "Where were you during the attack?"
Elara flinched as if struck. "I was—that's not fair—"
"Fair? I'm simply noting that proximity doesn't equal importance." Cynthia took a step closer to my side of the table, closer to where I stood. "Sometimes what matters is being there when it counts."
"And sometimes what matters is consistency," Elara shot back, moving around the table to position herself between Cynthia and me. "Being present every day. Not just sweeping in dramatically."
"Is that what bothers you?" Cynthia's smile became knowing. "That I 'swept in'?"
"What bothers me is—" Elara stopped herself, seemed to realize she was about to say something she'd regret.
"Yes?" Cynthia prompted. "What bothers you, Dr. Frost?"
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Oak was watching both women with the expression of someone witnessing a chess match they didn't fully understand.
Ash had backed away toward the starter Pokémon habitats, clearly uncomfortable. And I stood there between them, holding my unconscious partner, trying to figure out how a discussion about research methodology had become... whatever this was.
"Samael is Professor Oak's grandson," Elara said finally, choosing her words with visible care. "He's my colleague's family. And he's young—"
"He's eighteen as of tonight," Cynthia's statement prompted a realization that affirmed its accuracy. "Perfectly capable of making his own decisions."
"Decisions about what, exactly?" Elara asked.
"About who he spends time with. Who does he trust? Who he finds... interesting."
I had the distinct feeling they weren't talking about research anymore.
"You're ten years older than him," Elara said, her voice dropping to something dangerous.
Cynthia laughed, the sound somehow both amused and dismissive. "I'm twenty-eight. Hardly ancient. And age brings experience in many areas."
The manner in which she expressed herself caused my face to flush.
"This is inappropriate—" Elara started.
"What's inappropriate," Cynthia interrupted, "is you presuming to speak for him. Tell me, Doctor—have you actually expressed your interest? Or are you just upset someone else did?"
The room went very, very quiet.