Author's note- I wasn't really planning on this being a thing, but I needed a way to get past a mild case of writer's block, and I wanted to write a Jessie story. I'm not sure how far I'll continue with it, but for now, I hope you enjoy!
Jessie was first aware of the light, one that seeped in red shades through the skin of her eyelids, buzzing on and off with the pain in her head. Pain- yes, there was an ache, she realised, and finally connected this with her own consciousness. She was awake.
For a while she resisted the idea, bringing her legs closer to her chest, hiding her face under her knee to try to shield it from the stinging light. After a few minutes, however, Jessie came to the reluctant conclusion that going back to sleep was impossible in her current state, and forced herself upwards into a sitting position. Her limbs seemed to resist the movement, shaking with exhaustion. She ignored the feeling and looked around the room. There was a single bed that, for whatever reason, she didn't appear to have slept on, a circular wooden table with a few chairs by it, and two doors coated in white paint. Other than that, her surroundings were strangely bare.
"James? Meowth?" Jessie called out tentatively, cringing at the loudness of her own voice as it trembled in her skull. No one answered.
"Where the hell am I?"
She could remember going to a bar, drunkenly playing darts with two people she'd never met, and not much after that. A glance downwards revealed that she was wearing most of her Team Rocket uniform, besides the white jacket that displayed the tell-tale logo. Jessie licked her dry lips; her mouth still held the unsavoury aftertaste of alcohol. With considerable effort, she staggered to her feet and walked sluggishly towards one of the doors, which was open just wide enough to reveal a toilet and sink. It took her a few attempts to turn on the tap, which she drank from without hesitation as soon as it produced water. Her thirst quickly faded, and she returned her attention to the unsettling fact that a large part of the day before was missing from her memory. "I must have had a shitload to drink," she mused, nervous at the concept of having completely blacked out. That couldn't have been good for her.
And god, the pain. It stabbed its way back into her focus, so sharp that for a moment Jessie thought she might collapse. Wincing, she grabbed onto the side of the sink, gritting her teeth as head swirled with a queasy lightness. She'd had hangovers before, but they'd never been quite this bad- certainly not as painful. Jessie's eyes rose to the mirror in front of her. It was too dark to see properly in the bathroom, so she hit the switch on the wall, wondering just how bedraggled she looked. The room lit up, and she couldn't help but gasp at the reflection staring back at her.
Predictably, her eyes were framed with dark circles, and her complexion looked pale and clammy; what shocked her was the clump of half-dried blood just under her hairline. Dark blue bruises surrounded the wound, marbled on her forehead.
"That'd explain the headache," Jessie muttered, smirking through her growing concern. She raised a hand to the spot, touching the side of her temple first gently, and then with a little more pressure to test the injury. It wasn't unbearable, but even grazing the area around the cut hurt badly. Whatever had hit her had obviously hit her hard.
Backing out of the bathroom, Jessie surveyed the floor for signs of a weapon- of something that might explain what had happened. An almost smoky light was pouring in from the half-curtained window (one which bore view to nothing but brick wall), which- combined with the flickering bulb above- illuminated the room just enough to see with relative clarity. When she couldn't see anything on the uncovered floorboards, she crouched down, peering underneath the bed. Her satchel was there, somewhat eclipsed by the handgun lying next to it.
Jessie stared at the weapon. Was this what had hit her? Surely not, unless her attacker was strange enough to place it under the bed after knocking her out. That left her with the other two explanations she hadn't immediately dismissed as ridiculous: either someone else had left it here, or she had.
She leant in closer to inspect the surface of the gun, and was scared but unsurprised by the fact that it was free from the shallow grey lining that covered the planks around it. The lack of dust could only mean that it had been placed there recently.
"Shit," she said quietly. Guns were nothing new to her- she'd been taught how to shoot during her training at Team Rocket, and she'd even had them pointed at her on a couple of occasions. But she'd never woken up next to one before. That was definitely unfamiliar.
Panic started to well in her gut, making her tense up with adrenaline. Jessie scowled at her own reaction, irritated. She wasn't that easily shaken. No. She could sort this out, easy.
Her gaze drifted down to the satchel, hidden further back in shadows. If by any chance she had touched the handgun, leaving it here covered in her prints for anyone to find would be a disastrous move. There were gloves in her bag, which would let her handle the weapon without further incriminating herself; Jessie reached under the bed and took hold of the leather strap. She placed the satchel on her lap, and realised after a brief inspection that the pattern on the side was different, and that there were too many buckles, which were gold instead of silver.
It wasn't hers.
"Shit!"
Too exhausted to react further, Jessie settled on glaring at the bag. She guessed that at some point the evening before, she'd mistakenly taken it with her- and now some stranger was probably prancing around with her belongings. At least she'd had the sense to leave her Pokemon back at the cabin. Jessie sighed, undoing the metal clasps of the satchel. Maybe there'd be a wallet for her to leaf through. She flung the cover open, and took a few seconds to fully realise what she was looking at.
Stacked horizontally, neatly pressed against the crimson lining, were wads of money, held together by white strips. Anxiety, excitement and confusion battled for pride of place as Jessie's eyes skimmed over the cash, taking in its sheer quantity. Then, as if someone might be watching, she let the cover fall back into place. Had she been in a better state, Jessie would have taken longer to ponder under what circumstances such a fortune had fallen into her possession, but the pain in her head combined with the sickness that rattled her limbs rendered her unable to properly concentrate.
Mindless action took over- she was detached, textbook besides the slight clumsiness of her movements. Jessie found a scrap of cloth in the bathroom, which ripped into two pieces before using to gingerly pick up the gun. Holding the firearm between her covered thumb and forefinger, she turned on the safety with her other hand, and proceeded to empty it of bullets. The task was frustratingly tricky when carried out through a layer of fabric, but she eventually succeeded in unloading the gun. She tipped the bullets from the centre of the cloth into a side compartment of the satchel, storing the gun in the main section on top of the money.
It occurred to her, when she had closed the buckles of the bag and slung it over her shoulder, that she could simply wipe the gun clean of any prints it might be carrying. Wipe it, dump the bag in the nearest river and forget about the entire thing. But to do so, Jessie was sure, would leave her constantly wondering, doubting what had happened, what connection she really had to the weapon. Had she shot? Wounded?
Killed?
If she had, she would like to know about it. The concept frightened her, but Jessie's steely determination didn't fade. Stoically, she looked ahead at the wall, telling herself that she was going to deal with this. Too bad if she didn't like what she found out.
Too damn bad.
Once more, Jessie thought of her team mates. Surely her absence had not been lost on them. They were most likely looking for her by now. Judging by the sounds of light traffic outside, it must have been some time around noon, and she felt a growing urgency to find her two partners, to check that they hadn't been hurt too.
An abrupt despair threatened to close her throat, so she hurriedly swept the thought aside, no less sure of its possibility but knowing that she couldn't afford to dwell on it. After adjusting her hair a little to cover the injury beneath it as effectively as she could, Jessie left the apartment through front door, nudging it shut behind her with her heel. She cautiously looked around her, bracing for some kind of ambush, but was met only with weathered flowery wallpaper and empty space.
The flight of stairs leading to the ground floor was through what looked to have been a lobby, now trashed with empty beer cans and stubbed out cigarettes. Jessie walked by the torn-up furniture, pressing the satchel against her hip protectively as she began to descend the staircase. Each carpeted step let out a muffled creak under her weight, and Jessie thought that the sound might have been eerie if it were not for the sunlight. All the while, she held onto the bannister, still giddy. Just staying upright felt like a huge effort; her legs didn't shake, but the lightness in her head threatened to topple her balance regardless.
She sat down on the bottom step, letting her head drop into her hands. Though she hated to be rendered so suddenly weak, the relief of the break outweighed her resolve to plough onwards, so she allowed herself a few minutes' rest. The same floral wallpaper from upstairs overlaid the walls around her too, though this time in a pastel yellow that faded into white in the more worn out areas. Jessie busied herself momentarily with studying the intertwining, two-dimensional flowers, working out the sequence of the petals, how often they repeated. Before long, she noticed a mark disrupting the pattern- two marks.
"Bullet holes," she thought, oddly apathetic to the realisation. Standing up again, she moved forward to check if she'd been mistaken, and then to the double doors leading outside when she found that she hadn't.
Without her fully realising it, Jessie was unable to focus. Her vision tinted with pulsating bursts of white as she turned around, disorientated, trying to make sense of everything.
Doors. Blood on the ground. Hers? Yellow flowers. So pretty...
She clutched her scalp, yelling out. Brightness enveloped her completely and faded into black. Even then, Jessie could see swirls of colour against the darkness. Saw the constantly morphing shapes as she felt her body hit the floor. They slipped away as she did.
Her awakening dragged out unpleasantly. Jessie first opened her eyes to her own ragged coughs, but then found herself drifting into consciousness again, and again, each time perplexed that she wasn't already awake. She couldn't remember having fallen asleep, only her numerous falls out of it, and the experience unnerved her.
Almost as a reflex, her hand darted out in search of the satchel. Sitting up, she registered that it was beside her, the strap still around her shoulder. The intensity of the light hadn't changed notably, which Jessie hoped was an indication that little time had passed- either that or she'd been unconscious for an entire day. Though she didn't feel any more hungry. That was likely a good sign. Furthermore, her head, whilst still distinctly painful, felt a lot better. Jessie checked her limbs for any damage, figuring that falling over certainly wouldn't have done her any good. Apart from her left shoulder, which seemed to have taken the brunt of the fall and ached whenever she moved it too much, she appeared relatively unscathed.
Hesitantly, she stood up, preparing to sit down again should she need to. The dizziness returned, but dissipated soon enough, and Jessie found that she was able to walk without any real difficulty.
She relished the cool air once outside, not caring that it was polluted with car fumes. Then, after walking through the maze of alleyways for a while, Jessie reached a main road, and grinned as she realised she knew where she was: just a few blocks away from the bar she'd been at the night before. While not exactly bustling with life, the street was occupied by a few pedestrians. Jessie felt weirdly reassured by their presence. Just seeing other people was a welcome reminder that the world hadn't changed.
Now all she needed to do was find the other two thirds of her team.