Steven Stone stood in the facility's observation control room, watching the security feed replay for the third time. On the screen, Lazarus crouched beside Umbreon, deliberately eating Pokémon food pellets before allowing his own Pokémon to consume some, then delivering the partially eaten bowl to Sidney's Absol.

  It was so simple. So obvious in hindsight that Steven felt almost embarrassed for missing it.

  "Why didn't we think of that?" he muttered, pausing the feed as the Absol cautiously approached the bowl.

  Dr. Martinez, the facility's head researcher, looked up from her notes. "Sir?"

  "The food demonstration. Proving it's safe by eating it himself first." Steven rewound the footage again, watching Lazarus's methodical approach. "Two years we've been trying to get that Absol to trust our food offerings, and none of us considered the most basic trust-building mechanism in existence."

  "We followed standard protocol," Dr. Martinez said defensively. "Consistent feeding times, high-quality nutrition, minimal human contact to reduce stress—"

  "Standard protocol for Pokémon who haven't been systematically conditioned to view all human contact as potentially lethal," Steven interrupted, not unkindly. "This case was never going to respond to standard approaches."

  He leaned back in his chair, considering the implications. Lazarus's displaced status had always been fascinating from a theoretical standpoint, but this was the first time Steven had seen concrete evidence of how knowledge from another world could translate into practical solutions.

  The mental scan reports from Alakazam had been frustratingly vague, limited by the careful conditions Lazarus had negotiated. But they'd revealed enough: a world where Pokémon didn't exist, but where other creatures did. Creatures that might share similar psychological responses to trauma and trust-building.

  "Have you reviewed the questioning transcripts with Alakazam?" Steven asked.

  Dr. Martinez nodded, pulling up a tablet. "Limited information due to the subject's negotiated restrictions, but some interesting details. His world apparently had creatures called 'dogs' that share behavioral traits with Pokémon like Mightyena. And 'cats' that parallel species like his Umbreon."

  "Animals," Steven said quietly. "Not Pokémon, but animals with similar pack dynamics, trust mechanisms, fear responses." He gestured toward the screen where the Absol was now eating from the bowl. "Which means his knowledge of rehabilitation techniques might be more broadly applicable than we initially assumed."

  The security feed showed the Absol finishing the food and retreating to their corner, but with notably less tension in their posture than previous recordings had captured.

  "It's working," Steven observed. "Not a breakthrough, but measurable progress. They're eating, and they're not showing the hypervigilant stress patterns from yesterday's footage."

  "Should we adjust our protocols based on this approach?" Dr. Martinez asked.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Steven considered this carefully. "Not yet. Let's see how far Lazarus can push this methodology before we start implementing facility-wide changes. But document everything. If this succeeds, we'll need to understand exactly why it worked."

  He stood and moved to the window overlooking the containment level. Somewhere below, Lazarus was continuing his patient work with one of the most damaged Pokémon Steven had ever encountered.

  The risk assessment was still astronomical. Sidney's Absol had put three trained professionals in the hospital during routine maintenance. They were dealing with Elite Four level strength channeled through a psychologically shattered mind that perceived every interaction as a potential death match.

  But for the first time in two years, that Absol had accepted food from a human source. Not because they were starving – though malnutrition was certainly a factor – but because someone had taken the time to prove the food was safe.

  "I want Lazarus to have whatever resources he needs," Steven said finally. "More of that Wyndon food, extended facility access, whatever equipment or support he requests."

  "And if the approach fails?" Dr. Martinez asked quietly.

  Steven was quiet for a long moment. They both knew what failure meant in this context. The Absol's condition had been deteriorating steadily. Their violent episodes were becoming more frequent and unpredictable. The facility's ability to safely contain them was reaching its limits.

  "Then at least we'll know we tried everything possible," he said. "But I'm starting to think Lazarus might have insights none of us considered."

  He pulled up the case files on his tablet, reviewing the treatment attempts over the past two years. Traditional Pokémon psychology, medication trials, environmental modifications, even consultation with specialists from other regions. Nothing had worked.

  But none of those approaches had been based on understanding how to rehabilitate creatures that existed in a world without Pokémon centers, without the cultural framework of human-Pokémon partnership that defined their society.

  "Schedule daily briefings," Steven instructed. "I want to know immediately if there are any developments, positive or negative. And arrange for additional security measures – discrete ones. Lazarus is taking a considerable risk, and I want extraction protocols in place if things go wrong."

  Dr. Martinez made notes on her tablet. "How long do we give this approach?"

  "As long as it takes," Steven replied, then reconsidered. "Or until it becomes clear it's not working. But given what we've seen in the first session..." He gestured toward the security monitor where the Absol's empty bowl sat in the center of their cell. "I think we might have underestimated what's possible here."

  The truth was, Steven had become invested in this case on a level that probably wasn't professionally appropriate. Sidney's Absol represented everything wrong with the previous administration's approach to Pokémon welfare. Allowing situations like this to develop, then warehousing the victims when they became inconvenient.

  If Lazarus could succeed here, it would send a message that extended far beyond one traumatized Pokémon. It would demonstrate that even the most severe damage could be addressed with patience, understanding, and the right approach.

  "Sir," Dr. Martinez said hesitantly, "there is one concern. The approach Lazarus is using... it's completely dependent on his personal involvement. If something happens to him, we'd be back to square one."

  Steven nodded grimly. "Another reason to ensure his safety. But also another reason to document everything thoroughly. If he succeeds, we need to understand the methodology well enough to train others."

  He looked once more at the security feed, watching the Absol settle into what appeared to be genuine rest for the first time in the facility's records.

  Sometimes the most complex problems required the simplest solutions. The question now was whether simple solutions would be enough to undo two years of systematic psychological destruction.

  Only time would tell. But for the first time since Sidney's arrest, Steven felt genuine hope that this story might have a different ending than the one everyone had been expecting.