Death, Doom, Despair, Etc.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon and I'm not making any money.
She was so pale; that was the first thing that struck Ash as he entered the room. Pale and still and somehow smaller than usual. Perhaps it was because Misty had always had such energy, such life, that it had made her seem larger- no, thought Ash, that's 'has' and 'makes'... she isn't dead or anything. Just sick.
Or maybe, said a tiny part of Ash's brain that most of us call common sense, she seems smaller now because you are standing up and she is lying down. After all, people who are standing do tend to be taller than those who are lying down.
Ash ignored that part of his brain, as he always did. He wasn't quite sure what it was good for, because all it seemed to do was tell him stupid things that he didn't really want to hear.
Instead, he turned his attention back to Misty, lying on the bed. Her spiky, bright orange hair looked even more vivid- something he hadn't thought possible before- against the white sheets and her skin, which was almost as white except for a hint of a feverish flush in the cheeks. I knew she should have gone to the doctor's earlier, Ash thought miserably. That was not, however, strictly true. In fact, it wasn't really true at all. He had insisted that she go to lunch with him and Brock and Tracey and May even though she didn't feel well, because they couldn't reschedule their little reunion (it'd been hard enough to schedule in the first place) and who knew when she'd see any of them again? Well, that had been the reason he had told her, anyway. The real reason was that he was broke and he needed her to come along so that he could use her money to pay for his lunch. She usually gave it to him when he asked, and if she didn't, he stole it from her purse when she wasn't looking.
But anyway, during lunch Brock had kept saying that she didn't look well, and Misty had kept brushing him off, insisting that it was just a bit of a headache, maybe because of the cloudy weather. Ash, too, had insisted that there was nothing wrong with Misty, because he'd wanted to be able to stay for dessert. So they'd waited, and now... now it was too late. The doctor had said there was no cure, nothing he could do but give her pain-relief medications and hope for a quick recovery.
But what if she doesn't recover? thought Ash, and tears welled up in his eyes as he contemplated what life without Misty would mean. What if she dies? If she was gone, who would cook for him? Who would clean? Who would do his laundry? Who would read maps for him if he got lost? Who'd shop for groceries, pay for things, find stuff for him, tie his shoes? Not that he needed any help tying his shoes anymore - he'd pretty much got the hang of it now. Really. But the only other people he knew that would do any of those things for him, let alone all of them, were his mother and Brock. Pokémon Masters were far too cool to live with their mothers, and moving in with Brock would just look too weird. No, if Misty died he'd have to do all of that for himself.
And life just wouldn't be the same without Misty, without her insulting him and yelling him and hitting him over the head all the time. It wasn't that he actually enjoyed this, but he had been enduring it since he was ten, and it had become so much a part of his life that he would almost miss it. Well, maybe not miss it, exactly, but it would be... strange, not having her around to use him as a punching bag.
The tears that had been welling in his eyes spilled over and ran down his cheeks as he contemplated a bleak and Mistyless future. She had been an almost constant fixture in his life for so long. She'd gone away sometimes, but she'd always come back in the end. He wasn't quite sure when their friendship had turned into something else, something more- Misty claimed that it had been love all along, but Ash was convinced that he hadn't been in love with anyone when he was ten, let alone Misty. In fact, if you'd so much as said 'the L-word' to him back then, he probably would've thrown up, or at least pretended to.
I never did tell Misty I loved her, he realized suddenly. And now... I might never get the chance. I don't know if she can hear me, but I'll say it anyway, he decided. It might even miraculously cure her! It always works in the movies. Or maybe I ought to cry on her or something- it worked for Pikachu and me... but maybe she'd have to be dead for that to help.
"I love you, Misty," he said, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "Please don't leave me."
Misty's eyes fluttered open. "What'd you say?" she asked weakly.
"I said, 'I love you, Misty. Please don't leave me,'" Ash repeated, his voice gaining strength and conviction.
Misty gave an exasperated sigh. "Who said anything about leaving? Yeah, I'm pretty pissed off about being forced to go to lunch, and I know you've been stealing my money when you spend all of yours, but... dammit, Ash, I've got some kind of forty-eight hour flu, so if I'm going to dump you, it'll have to wait until I can stand up without my head exploding in pain. Speaking of which, can you go get me an aspirin? My headache's back."
"Um..." said Ash, reluctant to get out of the chair he was sitting in (and he'd just gotten comfortable, too!).
"Let me rephrase that," Misty said irritatedly. "Get me some aspirin right now, or else!" She sat up in bed, brandishing her mallet threateningly, then said, "...ow," and lay back down.
"Okay, okay," said Ash, hurrying to the kitchen to get some aspirin from the fridge. Or the breadbox. Or wherever it was that Misty kept it... where was it, anyhow?"
"HURRY UP AND GET ME THAT ASPIRIN ALREADY, ASH KETCHUM!" yelled a voice from the bedroom.
Ahh... she's recovering already, thought Ash happily as he searched through the kitchen cabinets for the aspirin, contemplating the healing powers of love.