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He credits it to Lt. Surge. The man possibly saved his life when no one else seemed to care. The man was the first one to show up at the gym when he was employed by the League, coming to check on the “son” that beat him so easily all that time ago. When Green corrected him, Surge laughed and said that Red failed multiple times trying to fight Raichu with Pikachu. Now eleven-year-old Green latches onto that with eagerness he didn’t know that he could feel, and he misses the look of surprise on Surge’s face. The boy notices that for once, the call of the Void doesn’t seem to be that loud and pulsing in his head. Surge’s voice overwhelms it. His hugs shut it up.
Surge takes a temporary sabbatical. With one gym undergoing reconstruction anyway, he tells them not to call him for challengers unless they have five or more badges. Green is present when he brutally shuts down the Elite Four, and he knows that he misses something with the looks that pass between them all. Just the other night when Surge stayed at his apartment, he stared at a knife for a bit too long, and it vanished the following morning. His basic painkillers for headaches were gone. Surge promises him better methods (for what, he's not entirely sure), and although he didn’t like it, Green reluctantly agrees. How can he argue with Lt. Surge? It’s Agatha that asks him if he’s okay with the gym leader staying with him. Green’s eyes go wide, and he nods rapidly. He wants to stay with him? What kind of person would want to stay with him? Even his own grandfather refused to leave Pallet Town to come be with him, and Daisy was too busy with… whatever she did. Red has fucked off to who knew where, citing something about training and generally being too good to associate with the rest of them.
The warm laugh and hug that he gets when he enthusiastically says yes to Surge staying with him makes him happier than anything he thought possible.
For the next two years, Lt. Surge stays with him at the gym, and he realizes, slowly, that the sadness that he felt when Red beat him seems to be lifting. He wonders what would happen if he died less and less. He stares at pills a little less and doesn’t wonder what it would be like to push a knife into his skin. His skin doesn’t itch quite so badly for some kind of release. He expresses this one night to the Lieutenant, and Surge gives him a warm smile, messing up his hair—“Hey! I can’t impress girls if you mess up my hair!”—and telling him that they’ve got some similar issues. That, of course, piques Green’s interest that he could have anything in common with the large military man at the age of fourteen. It takes another few days before Lt. Surge sits him down.
“Son,” he said, sitting with him in the middle of the gym after an intense workout, and there’s a certain warmth that has never been there before, “when I first finished with the war, I had thoughts like yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“That I couldn’t do a damn thing right. That I was a failure. That no one would miss me if I was dead. Different reasoning, but the same thoughts.”
“That’s stupid! Everyone would miss you!”
He gets a warm smile, calming and unsettling at the same time. He’s not sure that he likes what Lt. Surge is implying about being able to read him so easily. “Everyone would miss you, too, but you don’t always believe it, do you?”
Green pauses, looking mildly shocked, then looks away, flustered and still sweating from training with his Pokémon. He doesn’t respond at first. Yeah, no. He doesn’t like that the man manages to figure out what he’s thinking just by looking at him. Surely he wasn’t that easy to read… but maybe the Lieutenant just has more experience in looking for stuff like that.
“I know that you will…” he eventually says, and Surge laughs, pulling him into a big hug and starting an unfair wrestling match. It ends with him on his back, out of breath from laughing and trying valiantly to overpower the man with muscles bigger than a Machamp or Primeape.
“Damn straight I would! Which is why I’m staying here with you. I know that feels to think no one would miss you.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“My raichu,” Surge responds, helping him up to his feet despite being out of breath. “I lived for him. And I’m here to make sure that you live for yours, too.”
Green wrinkles his nose. “I’ll show you living for my Pokémon!”
No, it doesn’t really make sense, but he shouts it anyway. He summons Eevee for another round, this time trying to tackle Surge with her, and they both end up winded, Green giggling and Eevee chittering happily as Raichu sits on his chest to pin him. He looks at the Lieutenant and beams back at the grin he sees. Red is nothing more than a passing thought that he dismisses almost as soon as he catches it.
The next day, he calls him Dad without even realizing it. He doesn’t see the surprise on Surge’s face or the small, private smile that creeps over his lips.
“Thanks, Dad!” slips from his lips as easily as Eevee's name when the older man slides a plate of breakfast in front of him.
It takes another year to gently pry the man’s memories of war from him. Lt. Surge talks fondly of one of his men who played the guitar during downtime when he had one nearby. Green gets a guitar and signs up for lessons while Surge has to return for a challenger who calls himself Gold. After he himself loses to Gold, he throws himself into his practice to make sure that Surge will be appropriately thrilled with the present. It keeps the voice of failure quiet, despite Gold being his first loss as Gym Leader. That Christmas, the League gets together a few days before, before gift-giving, and he sneaks his guitar to the place where they’ll be celebrating. After all the presents are distributed, someone mentions curiously that Green didn’t get Surge one, knowing how enthusiastically he gave out all the other presents that he bought. Green breaks out the song that he practiced, the song that the Lieutenant’s men so favored, something about the war being in color and the innumerable bodies that they had to deal with, and sings it for the gym leader despite the butterflies in his stomach that make him want to puke.
He’s never seen Surge cry before, and he panics at first, thinking that he messed up until Surge wraps him in a hug tighter than anything that he ever had, almost not getting the guitar out of the way before he was crushed.
“I love you, son,” comes the quiet whisper, and it unties something in Green’s chest that he didn’t know was knotted. He hugs him back tightly, and he realizes that the way that Surge calls him “son” is different from everyone else that he addresses.
“I love you, too, Dad,” he comments back, under his breath so that no one else hears, and he hears the man break down farther into tears.
The rest of the league is awkwardly silent, having never seen such emotion from the man… having never realized that he was capable of such emotion. He is always the gung-ho military man who demanded military perfection, and while he is well-loved by the league, it is nothing like the scene before them.
Green gets Lt. Surge’s love, and he takes it greedily, hungrily, basking in it. He’s fifteen at this point, and he’s never felt better. His grandfather is a distant memory, and he’s left all of Pallet Town behind to become the best gym leader that he possibly could. Red is pushed from his mind with a vehemence that he didn’t realize until he hears that Red is back in town, and he doesn’t even get upset over it. Surge is with him, and they’re having dinner that night in Vermillion City (since he has a Pokémon that flies and routinely gives Surge shit for not having one).
He’s sitting in Surge’s apartment, flopping on the couch and laughing at how exasperated the man seems to be getting that Green has limbs everywhere and won’t give him any space. A Pokémon dancing competition is playing on their TV from another region, and Green considers going to enter his own Pokémon with Surge. There’s pictures of the two of them around the place, and he has his own bed, his own supplies, his own life here with him, with the man that he calls Dad, and there’s an apartment back in Viridian that’s much the same. The doorbell rings, startling them both, and Green sits up to drape himself over the back of the couch to watch as the other man answers the door, the competition now in the background as he waits curiously to see who is there.
“Lieutenant,” comes the nervous response, and he watches Surge’s back straighten a bit.
“What can I do for you, son?”
There’s a pause. “I--I was told to tell you and your son that the league champion is back in Pallet Town.”
There was silence. Green watches with bated breath.
“Thanks for the update, kid. Have a good night.”
The door is shut. Green meets his father’s eyes. There’s a heartbeat, and then the man says, “They couldn’t have told us that at the next meeting? The league needs to get their shit straight. I’m off the clock right now. If they want a welcoming party, then they can ask for one tomorrow.”
Green exhales. All the bitter hatred that he expected to feel withers out in a violent death, and he feels giddiness suffuse through him, filling him with warmth that pulls his lips into a grin before he realizes it. He doesn’t care that Red is back in town, even after everything that they went through, and he yelps when Surge pushes him off the back of the couch onto the floor. Or maybe he doesn’t care because Surge pushes him off the back of the couch onto the floor. Eevee, or Umbreon, as she evolved into, comes leaping to his assistance and pounces on his father-figure. All the negative emotion that he used to associate with Red’s name is nothing but a faint memory in the face of Surge and Raichu wrestling with him and Umbreon.
So the next day, he returns to the Viridian Gym, grinning as he races up the road with his Pokémon, a brief workout, something to get their blood pumping, all of them trampling up the pathway to the large building. Time to start his job. He has a near-perfect challenge record at his gym, and he yelps when he runs face-first into a stopped Arcanine. The Pokémon barks, zipping away to stop at the door and "win." Green swears and chases after, Umbreon at his heels chittering happily.
He stops when he sees a familiar face staring at the sliding doors. He blinks curiously, watching as his old rival turns around and stares at him. Green waits for the hatred, for the bitter anger that he used to have, to bubble over and sour his day before it’s even started, but… there’s nothing that comes. He just stares, and Red stares right back, Pikachu scampering down his shoulder and sniffing at Umbreon.
“You’re the one that wanted to see him, and you won’t even say hello?” comes the dry voice behind Red, and Green looks to see a Pokémon that he’s never seen before.
What was it called? Mewtwo? Something like that. He vaguely remembers the papers from the Cinnabar mansion. He immediately goes on the defensive, and Red throws an irritated look to the Mewtwo. There’s something like hatred bubbling up inside him at the idea that Red managed to catch such a Pokémon, but then Umbreon is nipping at his heels and Arcanine is growling, and he realizes that it doesn’t fucking matter because he has his Pokémon and Lieutenant Surge. He has a damn family, and he’s not going to throw it all away just because Red got an(other) awesome Pokémon.
Green makes a click of his tongue to break up the staring contest the two seem to be having. “What are you doing here, loser? Finally decide to come down from your mountain and brag about your newest addition to your team?”
Red looks as if he’s sucked on a lemon at Green’s words, and he can’t help but laugh. His old rival shakes his head and meets his gaze.
“Mewtwo…” comes the quiet, raspy voice that he didn’t realize that he missed. “...is an asshole.”
And that, that is what does him in. He shrieks with laughter, that Red has been struggling with this Pokémon who doesn’t just bend over and kiss his ass. His arms are around his stomach, and he’s leaning on Arcanine to stay upright as he breaks down in laughter beyond anything that he’s ever had.
“Met your match, Red?” Green manages to squeak out.
“He cheated,” comes the growling response. “I could not escape the Master Ball.”
That just throws him further into laughter, into knowing that something so simple as being a decent socialite might have helped him, but nope. His response was to throw his best Pokéball at the creature and skip the fight. He’s on the ground with laughter, red in the face and gulping down air desperately as Umbreon and Arcanine lick his face in concern. He’s never laughed like this before, but the idea of a Pokémon giving Red so much shit that he just used his best Pokéball and called it quits was so insanely entertaining. By the time that he’s finally able to breath and sit up, Green looks directly at Mewtwo.
“I like you. I’m Green Oak, Viridian City gym leader. Glad there was someone to give Red hell while he was off hiding on the mountain.”
He stands up and holds out a hand to Mewtwo, who looks at it with mild confusion and obvious distaste.
“It’s a handshake, a friendly one. I’m sure that you could beat my ass if you wanted. I’m just saying hello.”
It’s an odd feeling to shake a hand with a Pokémon, but Green decides that this asshole has potential as he lets go and opens the gym doors for another day of appropriately crushing everyone. Most trainers save his gym for last anymore. It makes him feel good to know that he’s the one that everyone stumbles on.
“Well, welcome back, Red. I take it that you’ve already visited Gramps and your mom, so welcome to my gym.” He puts his hands on his hips and whips around to face the man. “My gym! Lt. Surge helped me put it together. Better than being a Champion, for sure. I get to meet so many people!”
Red just hides the small smile on his face. Mewtwo flies past them, and Green watches as the Pokémon takes it all in.
“It looks vastly different from the last time that I was here,” comes the quiet comment.
“I’m not the shithead that ran it before. Giovanni can burn for all I care. This is my gym, and no Rocket is going to take hold here ever again.”
Mewtwo looks at him, indifferent and disinterested, but clearly with some thought running through his head. He humphs as he starts walking off. They can follow him for once if they want to chat. He starts the coffee and steals a donut from one of his ace trainers before he moves back to his office. Sixteen, and with his own office and gym. How’s that for being successful? Champion or no, he was good. He offers out the chairs or the futon (which he’s slept on before) as he boots up his computer.
“Whatcha doin’ here?”
He looks at Red, who avoids his gaze. Mewtwo gives them all of thirty seconds of silence before huffing and looking at them, irritated.
“He missed you quite badly.”
“Hm? An’ how thu oo know?” Green pushes, typing in his password as the donut hangs from his mouth.
I can speak telepathically, comes the voice in his ear, and Green pauses for a second before grinning, causing the donut to drop, and he yelps as he scrabbles about to catch it. He places the donut on his desk and swallows before waving a hand dismissively and bringing up the calendar. He is supposed to have the weekly meeting with his trainers in thirty minutes.
“Well, la-di-freaking-da, aren’t you special?” Green goads, and he flops back in his chair. “So can my Alakazam if I really need him to.”
Mewtwo grunts in annoyance, and Green turns his attention back to Red, who is looking at a picture of him and Surge.
“So… why has the Champion of Kanto--” and that garners a flinch, interesting, “decided to grace my humble gym with his presence?”
There’s a pause, and he watches Red’s posture deflate. There’s something almost… defeated about it, but surely there hasn’t been anyone who has beaten him. The only trainer that’s gotten past him is--
He slams his hands down on his desk. “Gold beat you? How?”
Red shrinks down.
“You’re still employed as the Champion, though!”
A pause.
“He beat you up on the mountain, didn’t he? An unofficial match, so it wasn’t officially registered.”
Red covers his face with his hands.
“So you came back for a real match and beat him, otherwise you wouldn’t be the Champion anymore.”
He meets red eyes when they looks up at him guiltily.
“Are you, too, telepathic?” comes Mewtwo’s voice, and Red huffs, pulling out a nasty looking Pokéball that must be the illustrious Master Ball.
“No, I’ve just had years to learn how to read this loser’s thoughts. We were rivals way back when, and best friends before that.”
“He was quite afraid of your hatred upon returning,” Mewtwo ignores the glare that gets him from Red, “which is why it took him so long to approach, but you do not seem to bare ill will toward him.”
Green shrugs. “Six years is a long time to mature. Lieutenant Surge works with me now when he’s not busy with his own gym.”
Red raises an eyebrow, and Green looks at him, pointing a finger. “Hey, I’m living my best life here. Don’t be jelly just because you wasted six years on a mountaintop in the cold. You should hear his war stories, by the way, because those are amazing and horrifying. I didn’t even know people could be that bad.”
Mewtwo huffs, and Green rolls his eyes at him. “You’re lucky that you have Red that caught you. Otherwise I’d be sassing you so hard right now, Mr. Angsty. Instead, you got lucky to have this quiet motherfucker as your trainer.”
“I… can put him up,” Red offers, offering out the Pokéball.
Green waves it off, watching as Mewtwo tenses. “Nah, I don’t care. ‘Sides, he doesn’t seem to like being controlled.”
Red shakes his head, settling back in the chair and staring at him. Green meets his gaze and stares right back, and he hears more than sees Mewtwo go wandering out into the hallways. Let the poor thing go explore. He has more important things to address, like the man in front of him.
“So, why grace me with your presence?”
Sure, Mewtwo gave him away, but Green’s a bit more cruel than that. He wants to hear Red say it. His old rival flushes and looks away, quiet, and he can outwait him. He knows that Red will eventually pop.
“I have a meeting in twenty minutes, so…” he trails off, looking expectant for just a moment before he starts gathering the things that he needs for his meeting. It’s not going to be long. There’s not much to go over. Most trainers don’t make it past his aces, and only one got past him, so really, it’s just a review of budgeting and last week’s trainers and telling them all to get better while telling them that they’re doing great. Things get a lot more interesting when he faces only the strongest of the strong. Umbreon is enjoying a nice retirement with his new team employed. She and Pikachu are curled up on the futon. Well, wrestling on the futon.
“I’m… sorry,” comes the quiet words, and they make Green pause in the shit that he was going to give him.
Green waves a hand dismissively. “Eh, I was an asshole back then. I kind of deserved it. So for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I treated you that way, too. But that’s over now. Surely you didn’t come all the way here to apologize to me.”
Red seems to pause and then reaches down to his belt. There’s more than six Pokéballs, but he figures that the ones toward the back are the ones that don’t get used. He unclips one--a simple, standard Pokéball--and Green tilts his head as Red fidgets with it.
“I…” the man takes a deep breath, centering himself, and Green jumps in.
“Hey, man, don’t worry, all right? I’ve forgiven and forgotten. Took a lot of work, yeah, but… Lieutenant Surge is a pretty amazing guy. He’s helped me. You don’t have to apologize.”
Red shakes his head, holding the ball out. “No, I…” he pauses, exhaling shakily and looking away. “...thought of you.”
“I swear to all Pokémon that if this is some stupid joke, I’m going to jump you right here,” Green comments as he gently takes the ball.
“I didn’t… catch it,” comes the quiet comment. “It… agreed to come.”
Green looks confused, holding the ball delicately. “Then… it just… agreed to be put in the Pokéball? Have you told Gramps--” and that got a flinch from his old rival, how curious, “because that seems like something that he’d want to research.”
Red shakes his head, meeting his gaze. “No. Professor Oak… doesn’t need to know.”
Green looks down at the ball with a curious expression. Now he really does need to know. There’s--he checks the clock--ten minutes until his meeting, and he holds this mysterious Pokémon delicately in his hands. Is it really enough time to get to know the Pokémon that agreed to be caught instead of battling it out? He studies the ball and his rival for a few seconds before he hums, rising.
“Then let’s go let it out, shall we?” he asks, grinning. “I have to prep in the main gym for the meeting anyway, so we might as well let it out there. Come on. We’ll order breakfast afterward. Sound good?”
He’s at the door before he hears Red stand, and he pauses at the question.
“You’re… not mad?”
He stands in the door frame then looks over his shoulder to see Red staring at him. He studies him for a few seconds. Everything has changed.
“I won’t lie,” Green says. “I was suicidal for a while.” Red looks alarmed. “But Dad--Lieutenant Surge--caught me before I could fall and helped me get back on my feet. It’s not your fault that you’re good with Pokémon. I’m better with people anyway. We were both too young to make that journey, and the league is still surprised that we did regardless. They’re looking to put age restrictions on those going for the gym challenge to give them a few extra years to mature.”
Red looks somewhere between alarmed, panicked and unsure.
“But I’ve moved past it.” he smiles, moving to place a hand on Red’s shoulder. “And so should you. I’m willing to be friends again if you want to, and things are a lot different from six years ago.” A pause. “Now come on. I wanna see what’s in the Pokéball.”