Wow, my first pokemon fic that I actually judge to be net-worthy. (My first pokefic was written many years ago when I was about 13, and mainly involved the mistreatment of Ash Ketchum, and I avoided the subject since) I hope you enjoy it. Not so much Rocket Shipping as maybe Rocket Kayaking, but hey. Also, I don't know if James' last name IS LeBlanc, but I've seen it used in other fics and, to be perfectly honest, I'm not going to lose any sleep over it.

Disclaimer:

*DC walks along a street of some description, walking along whistling happily and wearing a jacket with 'I own Pokemon' written on the back. Suddenly, he is leapt upon by a rabid gang of Nintendo vampires and beaten horribly with issues of Nintendo power. When he regains consciousness, he discovers the jacket…is gone…*

BLACK, WHITE, AND RED ALL OVER

Chapter One – 'Whump'

James Leblanc's life began to change one sunny day with an abrupt 'whump', which was accompanied by a gust of wind that blew Jessie's hair straight out behind her. She looked up from her ground-staring based scheming, and looked over here right shoulder, where James there was not.

Which would not perhaps have been so disconcerting if James was not to be there. However, since James was meant to be there, or, at the very least, that was where James had been last time she looked, Jessie was puzzled indeed by the void to her right that displayed all the properties for being an absence of James. She looked over her left shoulder just to make sure he wasn't there, and there he was not. Jessie frowned, and stopped walking. She certainly didn't remember digging any trap-holes in this road, but maybe she had done it in her sleep. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. She looked around behind her to check the road for sudden holes. Or James, whichever presented itself first.

 As it transpired, there were no gaping holes in the road, but to her consternation, what she did see was James' legs thrashing helplessly beneath a rather large orange, black, and white beast. He was being attacked by a wild Pokemon!

'Meowth!'

The Feline in question looked up from his newspaper, which he had found yesterday wrapped around the fish and chips they had liberated from what James had insisted was 'A Facist Chipshop Regime'. The paper was only a few days old, and Meowth had decided to try and catch up with recent, vinegary events.

'Huh?'

'James! He's being savaged by an Arcanine thingy!' Jessie dithered, hopping uncertainly from foot to foot. On the one hand, she'd rather James wasn't horribly mauled by a large fire breathing dog, but on the other hand, she wanted to be mauled by a large fire breathing dog even less.

'James? Savaged? Arcanine? Being? An? He's? By? Thingy?' Meowth asked distractedly. 'Well, it ain't nothin' he ain't already used ta, tanks to Victribell.' He commented, returning his attention to an article in the paper detailing the chase and capture of a pair of Rockets, 'Believed to be the infamous Butch and Cassidy', who had stolen several painstakingly gathered crates of Evolution stones, and made off in a waiting Helicopter. They had been pursued by a group of Pidgeot riding police officers, who successfully captured the two poke-terrorists, although several crates of Evolution Stones had been lost in the process. With Butch and Cassidy at least temporarily incapacitated, Meowth wondered idly if there were going to be any more high profile, high risk jobs coming their way. Doubtful, he thought, given how low they ranked in the bosses esteem.

 Meanwhile, Jessie stopped her dithering when she realised with a bone chilling fear that, y'know, chilled her bones and stuff that James hadn't let out a single scream or cry for help! Could he be stunned? Winded? Unconscious? Braver than she thought? Stupider than she thought? Any or all were possibilities, and she bolted forward to aid her steadfast companion and long-time friend, willing to risk life, limb, and painstakingly styled hair to do so. And then she heard a sound that stopped her dead in her tracks. Well, obviously not actually dead, because that would be counterproductive to the plot, such as it is, and not actually stopped, because she already had a pretty good momentum going for a less in a miniskirt that could conceivably be mistaken for a thick belt, and she skidded a good half a metre before she ceased forward motion. 

 But regardless.

The sound that she heard that astonished her was James' rather unique giggle. Now, Jessie was not an expert on feral dog-type attacks, but she was pretty sure the victim wasn't meant to be giggling like that. In that particular mixture of caution and curiosity that only slightly injured the proverbial Meowth, she crept forward. The Arcanine was enthusiastically licking James' face with a tongue roughly the size of the cardboard tube you find at the centre of a kitchen roll. Now that she was in a clearer mental state to pick out details, she realised that the Arcanine's tail was wagging hard enough to sweep the leaves clear of the dirt behind it. James, in turn, had his hands lost in the Pokemon's mane, stroking its head and neck happily.

 'Are you going to introduce us to your new friends?' Jessie asked acidly. James pushed the slobbering head away, tussling with it playfully as he flashed an innocently joyous smile at her. That was one of the things about James, Jessie noted. When he was happy, everyone knew about it.

'I don't have a clue.' He admitted airily 'But aren't we just getting along fabulously?'

Without warning, the Arcanine flipped itself onto its back and looked imploringly up at James.

'Do you want your tummy scratched? Yes you do, don't you?' James cooed, obliging it and simultaneously proving once and for all that extended association with dogs affects the brain in mysterious ways.

 'My Growlithe loved this too.' He explained, catching a glimpse at Jessie's expression of mixed confusion and resignation. The Arcanine barked happily, and since having a 6'03" Dog, weighing in at 342 lbs bark loudly in your ear is quite an experience, James sat down heavily, with the air of one who thinks they might have gone temporarily deaf.

 Meowth, who by this time was standing warily behind Jessie, had been piecing things together. Or, has he would have put it, 'Toggeda'

'James, ain't your fancy house round here somewhere?'

'What? Uh…about two or three days that way?' James guessed uncomfortably. He had been trying not to think about the proximity of The Dreaded Jessiebelle. Meowth nodded thoughtfully.

'So if da paper is a coupla days old, and if it'd take ya about tree days ta travel dere by foot…Say, James, what was da nickname of ya Growlithe?'

'But I've told you before, Meowth.' James pointed out, puzzled and rubbing the Arcanine's belly again.

'Indulge me, wouldja?'

'Growly.'

At that name, the Arcanine twisted onto its legs and leapt at James, nuzzling and slobber-bathing him with renewed enthusiasm. Finally, understanding glowed in James' green eyes, coupled with hope and, most probably, mild concussion.

'Do you mean…Could this be…Growly?' he asked wistfully.

'Reckon so, James. Take a look at dis!' Meowth said, tossing him the paper, some deepdown genetic instinct telling him that it might not yet be a good idea to go over to James, who quickly scanned the article and took in the relevant points, as well as the lingering smell of potato-based goodness doused in enough salt and vinegar to incapacitate trainers with lesser constitutions that our blundering, bike-ganging bullies, to use alliteration.

'Well?' Meowth said impatiently.

'The smell is making my eyes water.'

'Da article, ya yutz.'

'Oh. Well, it certainly all fits, but…There's only one way to find out!' He said decisively, standing up. 'Meowth, hand me my phone!'

'Ya don't have a phone.'

'Good work, Meowth! In that case, to the nearest town! Jessie, hand me the keys to our top secret ROCKETMOBILE!'

'We don't have a "Rocketmobile" either, Einstein.'

'Oh…Then I guess we walk, right?'

'Right.'

'Good.'

'You're really on form today aren't ya, James?'

'Oh, shush.'

Later, in the nearest town, James was struggling with small change in a phone booth that had become intensely crowded with Jessie and Meowth in there as well, as well as the Arcanine trying to force it's way in as well. Finally, he succeeded in dialing the number and inserting the change, and waited for somebody to pick up. Happily, this did not take long.

'Hello? Leblanc estate.' Came an elderly voice, who James recognised at once. Unfortunately, he realised he had been away so long he had actually succeeded in forgetting the name of the butler.

'Hello…Butler.' He said cheerfully, desperately racking his brain for the man's name.

Well, obviously not actually rack-torturing his brain for information, because…Oh, you get the idea.

'Master James! Is this really you?'

'Of course its me, Mr…uh…Butler.'

'You've never called home before! Have you decided to come home? Are you in trouble? What's wrong?'

 James laughed nervously.

'Oh, please. I don't need an excuse to phone my…Butler…do I? I was just wondering how everyone was. You know, mother, father, Growly…'

His voice crackled through the speakers hidden in one of her numerous dressers. The Leblancs recorded and tapped all incoming phonecalls as a matter of course, and she blessed her good fortune that she had left the equipment on. A faint smile crossed her lips, and had James been there, he would have called it sinister. But then again, James would not have been there for any reason, so call it sinister if you wish. Or not.

'Jacobson?'

'Yes, ma'am?'

'Be a dahlin' an' trace the call fer liddle' ole' me, wouldja hun?'

'Of course, ma'am.' The butler bowed slightly and left

'Ya won't be getting' away from me again, James Leblanc. We will be married, and soon, ah'll know where ya are.' Jessiebelle whispered contentedly, and began to brush her hair in measured, even strokes. As she always did, as she had been told to do, and how she would soon be telling James to do…

TO BE CONTINUED! At some point. *Coughs*

Well, there we go. Let me know and such.

 Oh, and just to clarify a coupla points for people, I'm not insulting dogs or dog owners. Being one myself (A Dog-owner, not a dog), I'm allowed to take pot-shots. And such and such.

 Well, peace out, check out my other stuff if you feel particularly inclined to, and I'll catch you later!

 DC