A/N: Hi, all. Well, I've decided to get back into writing in the AAML/Pokeshipping ficdom, because it's been a very long while since I've written any story in it whatsoever (nothing at all written, in fact, since I last finished "Letters" back in September last year). I know many of you are itching for me to get back to writing my main Chosen One series and kick off where I last left it at Book IV, but sadly that probably won't be happening anytime soon. I've been working on three huge fics since that time – two in Star Wars and one in The Walking Dead – so regular updates to Chosen One Book IV is unfortunately out of the question. It's still on hiatus, but don't think it's cancelled – I wouldn't do that ever.

Those of you who have followed me since the first books of my Chosen One series will probably notice significant changes in my narration style, especially in emotional qualities. I've completely abandoned the old POV switching that I've used in Books I to IV, as I've found that it's distracting and irritating for some readers. Readers in Pokeshipping ficdoms appreciate it somewhat based on what fic it is, but readers in Star Wars ficdoms absolutely despise it and find it annoying, so I've decided to write always in 3rd-person narrative, except for some "thought sections" which are italicized in first-person.

As I've mentioned, this is a novelization of MiyaToriaka's doujinshi, "Destiny and One Dream", and I'm writing with her personal permission/blessing. I'm sure a lot of you have seen/read it already, but if you haven't, visit her page on DeviantArt and check it out for yourself. There's some slight changes I've made in this fanfic version of it: Ash and Misty are married, not just dating for a month; Ash is living far away from home after Misty's death, as he lives secluded and shuns his friends later – even Pikachu; the story goes deeper into what happens in the time between Misty and Ash's deaths; Misty's death scene has been slightly altered; and Ash is far, far more melancholy and depressed than in the Doujinshi. I've added some elements and touches from Barry Lyndon (1975 film) in that regard.

Anyway, that's enough explanations from me. Hope you enjoy, and please leave your reviews, especially if you're one of my old reviewers – I'd love to hear from you guys again.


Destiny and One Dream

Chapter 1

You'll always be there for me…won't you, Ash?

Heheh…there you go again, always promising to protect me no matter what. You think you're Arceus or something?

Ash…can't breathe…eyes darkening…

Ash…I love you…I love you…

"No!" the young raven-haired man yelped in fear as he lurched forward off the sweat-drenched pillow and mattress of his bed. His knuckles went white and his untidy nails dug into his quilt with immense pressure, causing the veins in his hand to bulge up in panic. He quickly spun left and right almost like a madman, desperately searching for that precious person who was no longer there. His mind coming back to reality, he let out a somber sigh as he stared down at the pillow besides his that would be forever empty, no matter how much he wanted it to be occupied once again.

Exhaling deeply, he fell backward and slumped himself back onto the damp mattress, not caring in the slightest about the fact that he had himself covered by a doona despite the hot and humid summer air which breezed through the window. It was a moonless night, but then again every night felt the same with her gone forever. There was nothing to live for, now that his beloved wife was taken away from him. Nothing to smile about or to look forward to. His previous victories during his journey to become a Pokémon Master – even winning the title of Kanto Champion itself – were completely meaningless now that she was no longer here. Despite the fact that his body and dark blue pyjamas were soaked in cold sweat, he never removed the quilt. His skin was as hot as fire from the heat, but on the inside everything felt as cold as death. It had been the same ever since he witnessed the life leave his lover's eyes.

Suicide was a thought that always lingered in the back of his mind…ever enticing, ever whispering to him with gentle and soothing tones, promising him an eternity of peace and happiness with her. But of course he couldn't do it; couldn't subject his loved ones, especially his parents, to experience a loss as traumatic as he had. Despite his shunning them and repeated and upheld attempts to break off all contact with them – even Pikachu, whom he sent away to his parents and never saw again – and live completely in seclusion and anonymity, he could never bring himself to take his own life.

Restless and unable to fall asleep no matter how hard he tried, he lurched his arm to his right hand side towards the bedside counter. His fingers brushed against the cold glass of a bottle of whiskey which he eagerly grabbed and brought to his mouth. He drank it enthusiastically, until he overdid it and began to cough and splutter as his hand rushed to put the bottle back down. It fell out of his grasp as he brushed it back onto the counter, landing on the carpet below and staining it.

Cursing silently at himself for his clumsiness, he shuffled in his bed and extended an arm down to retrieve the bottle. Unable to see properly in the dark, his hand instead knocked against the handle of the top drawer of the counter. He stopped, suddenly locked in inner conflict. His head groaned at him, imploring him to ignore the feelings festering in his heart and to drown away his sorrows by reaching for the bottle of whiskey, while his heart begged him to open the drawer to remind himself of what he had truly lost.

Sadness and anger gripped him as he begrudgingly opened the drawer with his right hand and turned his body sideways to look into what lay inside. He reached in and pulled out a small picture frame, the glass broken from one of his previous fits of rage, as well as a blackened handkerchief. He brought the picture to his eyes, and there before him was the gorgeous image of his wife in her heavenly white wedding gown, standing by the famous Cerulean Cape with the sea extending far behind her. The gown fluttered backwards with the wind, adding to the already breathtaking beauty that was Misty Ketchum, whose pristine smile still haunted his thoughts. The portrait was dampened in various small places with the tears of the widowed Ash Ketchum, and he hastily put the picture back in the drawer for fear of further destroying it.

Then, he fondled the handkerchief in his hands so tenderly, almost scrunching it up against his heart as his tears fell onto it. The very same handkerchief she gave him all those years ago when they first parted ways. The old pink cloth was now dark and blackened, and he had never bothered to wash it. And why should he have, when it was all he truly had left of her?

Looking back on that fateful day, Ash couldn't help but chuckle at his foolishness. Trying in vain to stop all that blood from seeping out of various parts of her torso which was riddled with glass, with a petty little handkerchief. That same blood which soaked the handkerchief that day was still on it now, close to a full year later. He never tried to wash it – it felt…wrong to do so. As if he was trying to wash away his own guilt of not being able to save her. Of being so stupid and unaware of what was happening before it was too late.

The dry and cracking handkerchief reeked of blood, death and decay, but he didn't care. He cradled it against his chest, and wept into it before finally returning it to its proper place and closing the drawer. He buried his face against his dead wife's pillow. Still, after so many months had passed, he could smell the captivating aroma of her hair. It drove him crazy. Almost insane. His fingers curled up and he scrunched at it, enraged that his stupidity and inability to act was the cause of his own misery.

Determined to not let the scent of his wife be destroyed by his own musk, he lurched back onto his own pillow and wrapped his face in his hands. An eerie and weak light caught his attention from the side of his eye and he looked leftward, beholding the sight of the full moon which revealed itself from behind a waft of clouds. It was easy for him to have dismissed this night as a moonless one, because he didn't care at all about it. In fact, he wished it was a moonless one, because the very sight of the full moon made his blood boil as his mind conjured up memories; painful memories of that night when Misty looked up at the full moon one night and reminded him that the morning after would be the day they first met.

To think that his beloved Misty was taken away from him on their true anniversary – the anniversary of their fateful first meeting. Someone up there had a sick sense of humor, indeed.

Fatigue and sleep overtook him at last, and Ash's eyes which were so full of hate and anger drifted off into a passive lull. As always, he was plagued with the nightmare of the events of that tragic day which would haunt him for as long as he lived.


A/N: That's the end of the first "intro" chapter. The second chapter will be longer, and kick off with a flashback to the events which led to Misty's death the previous year. This fic will also, as I've mentioned before, go deeper into what happens after Misty's death: Ash's change in personality and the rift between him and his friends/family.

I've got end-of-year exams coming up really soon, so this will probably be the last thing I'll get to write on anything until the middle of November. So until then, please leave your reviews, and I'll see you all again soon!