(Do not favorite my work if you are not going to decently comment, it's disingenuous to artists/writers who like positive feedback on efforts.)

Well, it's been about half a year....and I guess 'cause Pokemon Unite came out I guess would be an excuse to put another chapter out. A lot of people seem to view the story chapters but comments are sparse, so the story doesn't get too much support.
Still, whatever, guess I can just throw another one on here and see what happens.

In this chapter, Purple meets with the PokePoofs creator and boss, who gives him a little story about who he is (in a general sense, as who he really is is teased in an easter egg here), and why such a thing as PokePoofs was made in the first place. So, previous chapter, we saw how the diapers were made, and in this one, we get why. So there ya go.

Also touching up those typos in the chapters too.


Chapter 7 The Top of the Bottom

I still couldn't believe it. I was meeting Mr. Wyatt. THE Mr. Wyatt. The man who created Poke-Poofs. The man who made my hometown what it is today. The man who...made the whole way of life that I had been born into.

After Rotom's tour, Jemma had been waiting for me at the other end. Well, more specifically, she had been walking up to meet me, as if she had timed her arrival perfectly with it's conclusion. From there, I was hustled into an elevator, notably different from the ones I'd seen the public use, with an an attendant who ran it. They didn't speak a word to me, merely made gestures and activated the elevator's controls.

My head began reeling, again, from the possibilities as to WHY I had been asked to come in. I didn't really have anybody to tell, like Jean, Monte, or, eh, even Lillian; an extra opinion on the matter could have been helpful. Mom had said I should go...like it was a great honor to get a call up from the CEO. But now, on the precipice of the moment, I was bombarded with the realization of how to feel.

Should I be thrilled? Concerned? Afraid? Like Mew, I had only seen Mr. Wyatt from a distance at public functions, a comparison that I realized blew my mind. Was he kind? Strict? Scary? And why would he want to see me? What did I do? Was it something wrong? Something...more positive than that? What did I do to earn his attention?

The elevator stopped, and suddenly I was hit with the feeling of vertigo without looking down. I had unintentionally distracted myself with all the thoughts as to why I was here and what was to become of me. I looked to the attendant, dressed in a rather fancy suit compared to those of the business variety, who proceeded to gesture to the room ahead.

"Mr. Wyatt is in the next room young sir," he said, voice leveled and calmed. "When business is finished, simply push that button over there," he directed, pointing at a gold-colored switch on the white leftmost wall. "Um...now's the time...to leave the elevator young man."

I exited purely automically, hearing the elevator doors close behind me and the near-silent whir of it's descent. I gulped, unsure what to do as I looked about the initial room. It was a small square, white walls with golden rims and corners. Overhead was a large silver chandelier, but with bulbs instead of candles (boy that would have been macabre), and I saw a security camera in one corner, protected by an upside-down dome of...glass I guess. There was an oval mirror affixed on the left and right walls, I guess for guests to get one final look at themselves, for scraggy hair, shirt wrinkles, and nose buggers before meeting the main man.

I looked...fine I guess?

Except, for the purple hair.

I felt a strand that was dangling between my eyes, surprised I was concerned about my appearance. I dressed like any kid, to be sure, but things like colored hair for my age didn't seem too common. Thought people did things like that to rebel against parents or something, like tattoos or clip-on piercings. Obviously, I knew that wasn't the reason for my hair, but would Mr. Wyatt think lesser of me by mistake?

Hmm...maybe I'm thinking too much on it...back to the room...back to the room.

Aside from that, there wasn't much,save for the big double doors ahead. They had the same ornate style as the rest of the room, imposing and rich. It wasn't so much intimidating by what they were, but by how much they could have cost. The doors frames and overall structure had to be modern...but inlaid in the middle was a metal...picture of some sort; like how I've seen pictures of ancient ruins with pictures in stone. The metal picture was half-bronze, half-silver, split down the middle. Hundreds of different Pokemon were dotted around it, some I recognized, others I've read or seen pictures of, and some I think I haven't seen before....

"Interested in the mosaic are you?"

I jumped, literally, I'll admit it. I had whipped about and placed my back against the door. Looking about, I spotted the intercom just to the side of the doors that I had missed. I was holding my heart, panicked...the old man voice had come in so clear, I thought an Abra had teleported him into the room.

"M...M...Mr. Wyatt?" I breathed out, completely forgetting I might have to push a button for him to hear me, like I'd seen in old movies. Man, I felt foolish. Then again, could you blame me? This was the Poke-Poof CEO I was possibly hearing.

"Yes...are you going to stand there admiring my threshold, or are you going to come in?"

I heard a small click, something I may not have heard if I wasn't so close to the door. I quickly rounded, starring at the door in a different fashion, hesitation rather than wonder. I looked down to the door knobs...which looked like weird...giant round opals that also looked very expensive. A thief could come here and not even enter the room to make a fortune...

This was it. This was the moment. I tried to discern what I could from the two sentences Mr. Wyatt had said. Old enough to be out of my generation, check. Ominous in how he sounded that really freaked me out, check. Nearly giving Poke-Poofs a reason to keep human diapers in this room for young visitors like me? Check...dang it.

"Nothing ventured...nothing gained," I mumbled to myself, quoting a favorite, old film noir film.

I opened the door into a...what...was this...?

The previous room had been decorated richly for the sake of, well, richness. The door picture was cool, but was clearly worth a fortune, and the mirrors on each side had made me feel self-conscious. It was the entryway for a corporate pioneer, a power-move chamber for observation and judgement.

But...beyond that was...I don't know...

Instead of marble, the floors were wood. Instead of an abundance of electric lights, there was a huge brazier burning in the middle, with little foreign-looking lantern pillars doting around the room. Between them, there was a pebble pathway bordered with grass---I felt it---real grass, not fake.

In one corner, there was a jacuzzi built into the floor, which at least touched on the rich guy thing...with an Seadra snoozing along it's surface, causing bubbles with it's...spit thingy mouth. It appeared to be wearing some kind of water-proof diaper, but I had to admit that it looked rather strange on the Pokemon's body.

Tilting my head, I looked back at the brazier which looked a little thicker than fire should...yeah, there was a Magmar laying down in there, mixed with the flames. I spotted it thanks to the fire-proof diaper strapped around it's middle. It wasn't asleep like the Seadra, I saw it eye me for a second, but went back to relaxing or lazying in the fire.

Looking to my right, I saw more real grass...but even more than that, I saw topiary. There was what seemed to be a horse, maybe a Ponyta, some...kind of human I guess, and table all made out of shrubbery. I also saw their maker, a Scyther wearing a diaper with leaf indicators on it, using it's sickles to make precision cuts. I was close enough to have been regarded, but the Pokemon seemed really focused on it's...hobby?

Two others DID notice me, however, sitting in an area nearby that was littered with...were those bean bags? What kind of rich guy has bean bags? But, from the Pokemon laying in them, they seemed to be more comfortable than the standard. In one was a Chansey, who was looking at me with with a perpetual smile, and seemed to be resisting the urge to come over and hug me in the Chansey-way. It was wearing a Center-style diaper, which made me wonder if Chanseys were one of the first Pokemon that Poke-Poofs had catered to.

The others diaper was more modern, with little thunderbolts over the padding, and while a lot of people knew what a Chancy was, everybody in the PokePoofs industry probably knew the one wearing it.

Laying down, front paws crossed over in a rather regal manner, was Gleam, Mr. Wyatt's Jolteon. Unlike these other Pokemon I wasn't expecting, I knew I should have seen Gleam at some point if I was meeting Mr. Wyatt. He brought his Jolteon to every public appearance I remember seeing, the spiky Pokemon being a somewhat permanent resident at the man's side. I guess that means...Gleam was rather special to Mr. Wyatt.

Gleam stared at me with his violet eyes, discerning rather intently, as if looking into my soul. I was a little intimidated, less by his padded appearance, but more by the possibilities of what the owner of those eyes had experienced. If he knew Mr. Wyatt for such a long time...wonder what his story was...my life probably paled in comparison.

I just stood then, transfixed, till the Chansey nearby whispered something to the Jolteon, which made him look back, then to me again. With a furrow of his brow and a tip of his head, he seemed to indicate that I should look in a direction I hadn't focused on yet. I decided to take his gesture and look.

Near the back, past an open set of glass doors, was a large fountain on a balcony where it seemed...a small group of Pidgey had congregated around, drinking from it. They weren't diapered, which I think they should have been...which meant...were they WILD?

Near them, stroking the feathers of one, was not a sharply dressed man I had been expecting. No, this person was wearing something like a brown coat, mixed with a bathrobe...something comfortable, but not formal at all. Wrapped around his neck was a white scarf, which looked a little well worn. Laying on the seating portion of the fountain was a bowler cap to match. In one hand was a golden-rod cane with black bolts around it, furthering my suspicion about the Jolteon.

I looked to the Pokemon in question for further direction. Obviously, that must be Mr. Wyatt, and surely he heard me coming in yet had not acknowledged me. Gleam lowered his head onto his crossed front legs in exasperation, looking back at me and repeated his gesture as if to say 'get over there would ya?'

I decided to be quick about it, power-walking by the concentrating Scyther, annoyed Jolteon, and hug-wanting Chansey. I slowed as I neared the fountain, reminding myself that those HAD to be wild Pigeys...apparently they had heard my rapid footwork, looked my direction, and took off. The one near Mr. Wyatt was slower, making sure to move out of the old man's reach before taking off...as if it didn't want to accidentally whack him with a wing.

"Oh! Sorry!" I reflexively said, stopping and straightening up.

"Oh that's a pity..." the old man near the fountain remarked, reaching down to pick up his hat and put it over his gray hair. "Oh well, they'll be back, always are."

Mr. Wyatt turned, and I saw the typical sight of an old man before me...albiet one that looked like he took good care of himself. His face and hands had wrinkles, but no boils or the like that also came with age. As he came closer, though, I noticed there seemed to be...quite a few old scars on the hand that held his cane, and one or two on his face. My mind was already racing to recalculate my impression of him...

"Ah...hrumph," Mr. Wyatt said, coming to a stop and placing both hands on his cane for balance. He didn't say anything for a long while, the sound of the snoozing Seadra, and the clipping of shrubs from the Scyther, being the dominate sounds.

"So...you...are definitely the purple one."

I blinked, then remembered that now, because of my hair, I guess that was true.

"Oh...right," was all I could say.

Mr. Wyatt gave that old man chuckled, something that makes you think there's something stuck in their throat but there's not. "Bet you weren't expecting all this when you walked in did you?" he asked, looking around the strange room.

"N-no," I admitted, sharing the glance. From this position...I realized it was a lot like the districts in town...water...fire...grass...there were places for Pokemon in here. "Guess...I didn't think that---"

"---an old man like me would like a little...naturalness?" Mr. Wyatt suggested to the answer, smiling.

"Y-yeah."

"Pff," the old man breathed, waving a hand. "I just did that whole 'show of money' bit because that's what my board members suggested. Said the whole natural-thing was not very...corporate," he told me, shrugging.

"Can say that again," I remembered, looking about. "It's...nice."

"Still expensive," Mr. Wyatt chuckled. "But, the cost was not solely for me..." he said, looking slowly about the room.

"These Pokemon...they're all yours?" I felt compelled to ask, looking about. I didn't have one myself, and having this many Pokemon for one person...not sure a single person in town have this many. One person, one Pokemon. That's usually how it was, it was the 'normal', except for groups in services like firefighting, police, or the like. But...

"They are...my companions," Mr. Wyatt informed me, seeming to correct himself half-way, to a proper answer. I found that peculiar. "We've been through...a lot together, especially me and old Gleam over there, right Gleam?" he called over to the Jolteon.

"Jolt..." Gleam replied, deadpanning his face, as if he didn't want to confirm something so obvious.

"Right right, I'm old too, don't get your diaper in a tussle my friend," Mr. Wyatt chuckled. Gleam didn't seem insulted by that, which, I guess, meant the back and forth was something common between the two. Mr. Wyatt turned his head, looking back toward the fountain as if he was waiting for something.

"You're...not what I expected Mr. Wyatt," I admitted, after the old man seemed to have gone on pause for nearly a minute.

"Hmm? Oh, you can just call me Wyatt," Mr...Wyatt said, turning his attention back to me. "And I'm not surprised, I hardly get visitors...outside of business, which makes an old man even older," he admitted, starting to make his way past me, following the circular path I had just noticed the pebbles made around the brazier. I decided to follow, which I guess was the right choice.

"Mm...naps more than the common Meowth you do," the old man remarked to the relaxing Magmar in the brazier as he passed. The Fire-type glanced at him, gave a small grin.

"Maaaaagmar," it remarked, looking over at the jacuzzi nearby with the sleeping Water-type in it.

"You mean the one who swam us out of a tsunami more than once? HE has an excuse to sleep," Wyatt told the Magmar as we passed the sleeping Seadra.

"....mar," the Magmar coughed, shifting the fire and sitting up, diaper crinkling. Admittance of fault perhaps?

"That's what I thought," Wyatt chuckled, continuing along the path as I followed. I glanced between the Magmar and Seadra for a quick turn, realizing something. Tsunami? WHAT?

"Ah, Snip..."

"Scyth!"

We came near the Scyther who, at Wyatt's voice, stopped what he was doing, gesturing toward the human-like shrubbery. Wyatt paused his walking, and I did the same, one hand on the cane, the other running slowly over his mustache. It was taking longer than I thought, the discerning looks, so I looked myself for a moment...was the shrub suppose to be...Wyatt?

"Am I that fat?" Wyatt eventually said, blinking.

"Scy..." Scyther groaned, throwing up it's scythes, one unfortunately cutting both the extra bulk from shrub-Wyatt's midsection...and his nose. "S-scyther!" the Grass-type shouted in alarm, his jaw falling at the mistake.

"Oh, it's quite alright Snip...I'll make sure to get a new batch for you to work on," Wyatt said, patting the Scyther's back.

"Scy..."

We passed by, the Scyther taking a sit on it's padded rump, closing it's eyes and seeming to meditate the disaster away.

"Don't mind Snip...he's a perfectionist in his retirement," Wyatt whispered to me. I nodded along, understanding in some way. Wait...retirement? From what?

Then we came to the bean-bag area, where Chansey and Gleam were. Wyatt took to sitting beside Gleam, taking several seconds to get down into seating position, I would have helped if I didn't think I would slip up or something. Wyatt may not look so old...but I didn't want to test it by trying to help and making him fall face first into the grass.

When he finally did sit down, sighing at the effort as the cushion of the bag depressed and firmed, he gestured for me to take a seat across from him. I did so, almost understanding the true comfyness of these bags (that they weren't bean bags, but softly cushioned with some soft material), before Chansey reached over and finally gave me a hug that she had been aiming to get me with (probably had been giving me the stalker eyes when I was rounding the room).

After I recovered from nearly being choked to unconsciousness, and the Chansey settled back in it's seat, I looked over at Wyatt, who had a slight grin on his face from my suffering. I glanced over at him, trying to smile weakly, figuring I should ask the big question now.

"Umm...Mr. Wyatt."

"Just Wyatt."

"Right...umm...why am I here?"

"Ah, yes," Wyatt remarked, looking to Gleam beside him. They gave each other a focused stare, as if Gleam already knew the reason too. After a few seconds of that, Wyatt reached behind himself. The cushy bags we were seated in were encircled by a smooth wooden boarder, and just now I noticed there were pictures propped up on the side where Wyatt was. He selected one of them, holding it in his hands fondly.

"Tell me...what do you think of Pokemon young man? What do they mean to you?"

I blinked, glancing without turning in the direction of every Pokemon in the vicinity. Was...that why I was here? That...was a weird question.

"Umm...I...like them?"

"That all?"

"Well...I mean...they're all over town...and they're all friendly...I mean, I don't really know what---" I cut myself off, trying to figure out what Wyatt wanted with that question.

"Why not have one of your own?" Wyatt inquired.

I grunted, looking off to the side. Yeah, seemed everybody but me had a Pokemon in town, and everybody else was wondering where mine was. "I...well...just haven't found the right one I guess...?" I tried to answer. Wyatt seemed to want something specific, but I had no idea what it could be. These questions...it was like the beginning of an interrogation or something.

"What if I were to ask YOU that question?"

Another line from a noir film, just like the venture line, entered my head. Pretty good lines in there, and actually...that may work.
"...what about you Wyatt?" I asked, grimacing in preparation for him enforcing that I answer. To my surprise, Wyatt smiled, looking to Gleam, then to the picture in his hands.

"Partner, friend, ally...competitor...en--" Wyatt started, dropping off the last word I didn't catch. He still smiled, looking up at me, and then holding out the picture to me. "This...is what they mean to me."

I took the picture, being delicate with it, and turned it around so I was looking at it correctly. My eyes widened as the realization kicked in of what I saw. There was a young man in the photo...and aside from the youthful look, black spiky hair, and casual outfit, I concluded it could have been Wyatt when he was younger.

Further evidence was the Pokemon around him. None of them were diapered, which I thought was unusual, as it was the norm to me...but aside from Chansey, they were all the ones in this room...along with a Jinx and a Dragonair I guess I hadn't seen yet. They were standing in front of some kind of...shrine that was obscured by their closeness in the picture. They all had smiles on their faces, an indicator that whatever this moment was, it was a happy one.

I smiled at the image, but was confused. This...just looked like how other people took pictures with their Pokemon...what was Wyatt trying to---then I saw it there on young Wyatt himself. On his belt were the familiar looking red and white orbs I'd seen on television and merchandise.

Those were Pokeballs? Did that mean...?

"Yes," Wyatt remarked. I looked up, seeing him and Gleam looking at me, the former petting Gleam's head affectionately. "Before all this...I was a Pokemon Trainer."

I slumped a bit in my seat, amazed, but not shocked. The Pokeballs sealed it, but my suspicions were aroused by the fact that they weren't padded up...and the strange realization that all the Pokemon in this room, including the Jynx and a Dragonair I hadn't seen, were early generation discovered Pokemon. People had known about them from before I was born, they were well documented. If Wyatt had bonded with Pokemon like this a long time ago...well, him being a Trainer didn't seem so far off. Still...

Wyatt chuckled. "Yes...I know. It's not like I keep it a secret or anything," he remarked, shrugging. "But it's been so long that people forget and nobody really asks."

"But...I hear a lot of people say that...Pokemon fighting is...well, not good," I said. Honestly, while I preferred films and shows with Pokemon, when it came to fighting, it seemed somewhat taboo in Berryton. Details aside, it was...kind of the polar opposite to what PokePoofs seemed to do for the relationship between people and Pokemon.

Wyatt nodded lightly. "I can not blame people for saying something true," he said, scratching Gleam's neck as he spoke. "I was a trainer a long time ago. A very good one, plenty of adventures, with many friendships and many..." he began, drifting off, his eyes going a bit distant as he seemed to remember things.

Then he was back again. "Like others, I wanted to be a Master, competed with others to become the best, to capture every Pokemon out there," he continued, smiling half-heartily. "But...funny as it seemed, it's a rather impossible dream."

"It...is?" I asked, the youthful thought that most things aren't impossible showing on my face.

Wyatt shrugged. "It depends on your goal. New Pokemon are discovered with every new generation, and as it grew...well, one of my generation comes to realization that such a goal of catching every Pokemon in the world is something that falls to every new Trainer beyond us. It's a task made solely for the youth."

I blinked, unsure how to take this information. It seemed like a conclusion Wyatt had made, though his experiences, but I didn't have enough of whatever it was to understand fully. "Did you...call me here to make me a Trainer...?" I asked, a little concerned.
Wyatt shook his head, dropping his hand from Gleam, the Jolteon moving over to lay his body on the old man's legs. "I WAS a trainer young man. My...path changed," he informed me.

"Changed?" I asked, realizing he might clear up why he wasn't one anymore.

"Yes. Being a Trainer is a calling with many paths. I battled Pokemon, I caught them, competed in great games of challenge...I didn't think any different from other youngsters these days," he chuckled, waving a hand in front of himself as if he were excusing me from that group. "I began my journey with my starter Pokemon, an Eevee, who soon became this Jolteon right here," he remarked, patting Gleams back, feeling the Electric-Type seeming to chuckle in it's throat.

He smiled at the thought, as if he was back in those first few days of Trainer-ship. Then his eyes grew distant again, and his face contorted a bit uncomfortably, as if recalling a memory he wasn't too fond of...

"One day, far into my journey...an incident happened."

"...was it a battle?" I asked after he didn't continue immediately.

"No...it wasn't a battle with a Trainer," Wyatt answered, shaking his head lightly, though he wasn't looking me in the eye still. "It was something else. A...very difficult moment that caused me to re-evaluate my choices, and the ones for those I called both friend and family."

Wyatt looked down at the Jolteon laying across his lap, and I saw Gleam was looking off into the distance with the same expression Wyatt had on. "It was during that trial-some time...my closest companion, my partner thought all my years of chasing the dream of Master, was gravely injured."

I flinched, looking at Gleam. Starters were with trainers from the beginning, I knew that, which meant that he was talking about the Jolteon. I gave a quick glance around the Pokemon, trying to spot any old, grievous injuries (I later considered that the old ones on Wyatt may have pertained to the moment he was skirting around). There...didn't SEEM to be anything wrong with him at all.

Wyatt smiled lightly. "Centers, herbs...I tried a lot of things, but the cause would not leave. The end result of things was...was that Gleam here had to wear diapers."

I blinked, taking that in for a few seconds, and then feeling like I had been tricked, though I knew that wasn't the case. Diapers on Pokemon was so normal to me, and such a presence in town, that I didn't even make the connection that Gleam had been injured in a way that he needed them for medical, rather than 'natural' reasons.

"At the time I was...uncertain how things would turn out for us then. Heh, a great Pokemon Trainer who's main Pokemon wore diapers? Everywhere we went, there were certainly gawkers and hecklers that commented on it. They made fun of me, of him, of all of us," Wyatt revealed, trying hard to keep a smile. He slowly petted Gleam's head again, and I looked at the Pokemon sympathetically...guessing how people may view our city from the outside. They'd probably laugh at our padded Pokemon and call them names or...

"After taking so much of it, I realized how much it was hurting my friends. Gleam, bless his heart, still tried to battle for me, putting on a brave face, though many Trainers found him to be a joke, even if he manged to win despite his condition. Eventually though, I decided, I had to change things." Wyatt patted Gleam on the back of his diaper, then the rump, using his other hand to still pet the Jolteon from the other side.

"So...after my wife passed on, I journeyed far enough away, where my reputation didn't touch, and found myself here. Settling, I decided that my calling wasn't to TRAIN Pokemon to fight, but to HELP them bond with humanity," he told me, smiling a bit more honestly as he looked over at the diaper taped to the Jolteon. "I had a son, and a grandson. My son he...went on to become a Trainer too, and I have yet to see him for so long. My best memories was his childhood. Hm hm, my wife always said I was a Trainer to eschew my duties as a father heh heh," Wyatt remarked, laughing full heartily.

"I changed plenty of diapers, that's for sure...and when I started to do it for Gleam, I realized that eventually, a son, or a daughter, must see to their own dreams. Pokemon, however, are companions that can bond to you for life. Trainers prefer to battle with them, and yes, some Pokemon enjoy that, I won't deny that it does not strengthen a bond," he told me, holding up a hand in case I would interrupt on the Trainer thing.

"However, after what happened to Gleam, I didn't want fighting to be what bonded us. I wanted it to be our friendship, a doting-ship on par with the love we show our families," he said, patting and looking at the diaper on Gleam again. "Diapers are commonly associated with infants, but it's also the garb of innocence, of the ones who need to be cared for and loved by the one who changes them," he told me. "Pokemon are generally not infants, of course, heh, but in being diapered, they rely on us. Even the most dangerous Pokemon on record could rely on a human to help them with such a task. And through it, they bond, as this whole city is evidence to."

As I listened to Wyatt, I slowly started to understand why Poke-Poofs had made such an impact on people and Pokemon. While there may be some embellishment to how Wyatt was explaining his passion, I kind of got it. It made sense...Pokemon here relied on humans, and vice-versa. Violence wasn't what put them together...it was caring for each other.

"I began all this for Gleam, so that he knew I would embrace his injury and would stand by him no matter what," Wyatt continued, patting the Jolteon again. "Instead of mockery, he's seen like all the others...though to me, he's still my special little guy," he added, lowering his head to the Jolteon's back, probably hearing the beat of the Pokemon's heart.

"Jolt," Gleam muttered, as if the 'little guy' comment was a bit much.

"Oh yes, you're much bigger now," Wyatt chuckled.

I watched as they went back and forth a few times, thinking on what Wyatt said. He started this whole thing because his Pokemon, his friend, got hurt. He used to be a Trainer, fighting and capturing, probably, with Pokemon like those I had seen in town. Now? He's the maker of Poke-Poofs, the diapers that have brought Pokemon and people in this town together...closer than maybe anywhere else.

I realized, looking around at the padded Pokemon in the room, that Wyatt must have gone through so much with these guys...a journey wrought with fighting, and now they seemed just as happy with everyday, padded lives. They shared one life together.