My Charitable Professor - Pt.1

When I came to, the floor wasn't as uncomfortable as I remembered... It wasn't as cold... Nothing hurt!

I sat up on the bed, realizing I was in one! "Professor!!" the title crossed my mind as the only coherent thought I could hold. Was I with him when any of that happened? ...Was it all just a daydream I had in the café? My memories were blurred – as was my vision: my hands danced before my eyes as I moved them, leaving a trail of broken image. All my senses were numb!

But I felt my way through the bed until they were sufficiently recovered: it was a great mattress, much greater than Sycamore's. The only color I could process around me was white, in everything: sheets, pillows, bed, ceiling, floor and distant walls... it felt like a mute, smothering dream!

"Ohh? Up already?" I heard his voice coming from behind me... but was he there? It sounded far, shrouded by a metallic echo as it penetrated my ears and reverberated inside my skull.

I couldn't turn to look at him because I didn't know where he was – I moved my eyes quickly from one side to the other, but all I got was a blurred vision and an extreme headache. He laughed lightly, probably of my state. I tried to move...

"Hey now... be a good girl and lie back down, won't you?" I detected a confusing feeling over my shoulders – was it his hand touching me? It took my balance away, pulled me back. I felt like I was struggling, swimming in wet cement. His laugh echoed on as I widened my eyes, trying to make him out through my wild blindness.

"I can't let you get up now, so close your eyes and return to sleep!" the voice whispered into my ears – the sound was wet and metallic again... it hurt my head! I covered my ears, attempting to block them in an automatic response to the confusing pain. But was that even Sycamore's voice? I couldn't tell... the rhythm and the words matched his, but at intervals the pitch was so grave my brain immediately pictured a nightmare thing encircling me in its monstrous arms and keeping me from moving! Could he really laugh like that? Agony was all I could feel, thrashing through noisy, constrictive sheets and going nowhere.

"Stop trying so hard, darling..." he whispered lightly... the sound still managed to hurt me "The more you stir, the more it will hurt..."

I covered my face at last, and thought I could scream out my torment... but I heard what that failed attempt produced: an almost animal-like groan...

A numb pressure moved my hands away, possessed my forehead... It lingered there long enough for the nerves to process it was his touch, his skin weighing against mine, holding my head down and helping to at least stabilize the pulsating headache.

"A tragedy..." he sighed "The effects are devastating, are they not? Humans are not meant to get caught up in their Pokémon battles, Anne dear..."

I forced my eyes, and managed to make out his silhouette through the whiteness – he sat by my side, at the edge of the bed. It looked like a shadow... if I stared at it too long, I feared I might see something inhuman!

"You are currently suffering the effects of a Butterfree's sleep powder..." he explained in a composed tone, sounding quite like a doctor would "A potent relaxing substance that merely depresses the nerves of Pokémon into deep, untroubled sleep..."

I squirmed in agony – it was anything but untroubled! Detecting that in my agitation, Sycamore's arms weighed more on top of me, and he talked on, narrating my anguish:

"In humans, however, the side effects can be ghastly! High fevers... Tremors... Hallucinations..." I felt what I barely made out as his hand running across me, feeling me... Not seeing him through it all made his proximity terrifying!

"Terrors..." he added, intensifying his tone. His fingers pulled the hair back from my forehead "It causes the desired effect for the first hour, but when sedation is past, it leaves you with a quite inflamed meninge..."

He held my head again – though it felt like he tried to help, something inside me said otherwise. I squirmed.

"Make it... go..." I think I managed to speak – though I had been trying to use my voice to no avail since he entered the room.

I think he heard me... but hesitated nevertheless.

"Sleep it off, darling! It is the best remedy, after all!"

The cursed sheets were back on top of me. I struggled them away.

"Make it stop!!" I pleaded through my strangled breath.

Sycamore's touch was still there, as was his silence now. Somehow, his silence made it even scarier. I heard him sigh.

"Please..." I begged, as I felt he was holding out on something.

I couldn't see his face – but the contours of his head were right there. He watched me in silence. Did he wonder on something? Was he figuring something out? Was he deciding if he should? ...A confusing, scared crying began creeping its way up my throat.

"Alright, darling..." he sighed heavily, his voice sounding troubled "...But I still recommend you take some hours to sleep!"

He went away, and returned long minutes later – I did not hear him come in, or sit on the bed again – I merely felt his hand weigh on my forehead and I shuddered with fright as a response. That made my too tensed, too stretched muscles ache.

"It pains me to watch you now, it is true..." he sighed, seeming to talk to himself "But a lesson should be a lesson... How many times must I tell you?!"

My heartbeats picked up as something painfully wrapped around my arm, strangling it tightly. My irrational reaction was to try and yank it off – Sycamore pushed my hand away, held me down, contained my thrashing as best as he could until it started subsiding.

"Darling, do you want the serum or not?" he gently reproached me back into rationality. I stopped moving, he diligently proceeded...

His fingers held my arm in place – I knew what was coming. I hated needles – especially when I couldn't see them.

"This will only hurt a bit..." he murmured in his focused attention. I braced myself – the needle penetrated my skin, the exacerbated nerves making it feel like tearing! I groaned in pain... the liquid slowly burned its way inside my veins.

Sycamore untied the tourniquet and pulled the syringe out. "It should only take a minute or two now..."

I heard him place his tools on a metal tray, and I heard him walk away – normal hearing slowly returned as the fog began dissipating.