Tick, tock.
Jessie rolled around on her bed, tossing and turning, the crinkling of the crisp, pink sheets loud in her ears. How long has she been awake, trying so very hard to sleep? Twenty minutes? Thirty?
She was restless.
Sighing, she sat up.
Tick, tock.
She looked up at the clock, scowling. Every tick it made, every tock, felt like taunting to her. She growled, grabbed a pillow to cover her ears, and lay back down again, back to her quest for sleep.
Tick, tock.
The sound rippled through her, filling her ears. The clock, she thought, it persists. Check me, check me, it says. Don't you want to know what time it is?
Tick, tock.
Fine.
She took the pillow she'd wrapped around her head and threw it angrily into a dark corner of the room.
Inhale, exhale. She bit her lip anxiously.
She stepped off the bed, stood up, and looked at the clock, trying to decipher it this time.
It was 3 o'clock.
Three! What could be taking him so long? What?
A simple scouting task. That was it. Surely even he wouldn't get hurt on that?
But it's been two hours, her mind whispered. Aren't you worried?
Jessie walked back to her bed and sat on the edge, rubbing her temples. Where are you, James?
Could he be...hurt?
A tight knot formed somewhere in her gut. No, no. Just no.
Unbidden, images flashed before her mind's eye: of Ursaring mauling him, of Arcanine roasting him alive, of rogue Sneasel clawing those beautiful green eyes out...
Panic washed through her.
She put her head in her hands and sighed. She breathed in deeply, the cold air of the room filling her lungs. She willed herself to stay calm.
It's okay. Nothing's happened. She closed her eyes, begging dreamland to whisk her away, away from this world where he could be hurt...
Tick, tock.
At the sound, more images appeared before her mind's eye; more violent and more frightening than those before. Her right hand closed around a fistful of bed-sheet, gripping it so tightly her nails dug into her palm. Letting out a shuddering sigh, she grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at the clock.
It shook on its nail, its rim clinking against the wall. Clink, clink, clink. She listened to the sound for a few moments, sitting ramrod straight, moving not a muscle. And yet, the knot in her gut seemed to tighten with each passing second.
Suddenly, she was possessed by a mad urge to rouse the scratch-cat, to drag the furball from bed and go looking for her blue-haired partner. She stood up, walked over to the rack in the corner, and lifted her trench-coat from its hook, fumbling slightly.
Suddenly, though, she froze.
I will not go on this purposeless quest, especially at this hour. She put the coat back where it was. He's fine. He's a grown man. She walked back to her bed and laid down, curling up into a tight ball. Sleep, oh sleep, take me away...
Sleep did not come. How could it, with her mind in such a state?
Why are you so worried?
She growled—or was it a whine? Desperation dripped from the sound. The beating of her heart was loud in her ears.
Tick, tock.
Enough, she thought. Growling ferally, she grabbed another pillow, the last of them, and threw it forcefully at the clock.
It shook violently, then fell to the floor with a loud crash, the sound echoing through the room. It shattered.
Silence. In silence, voices whisper.
He's hurt...
He's lost...
You'll never see him again.
The panic in her gut intensified. With a jolt, she sat up. That's it.
She lurched from the bed and groped in the dark for her trench-coat, lost in her panic. Finally, her fingers found the smooth cloth. She pulled it off violently, making the rack shake and spin. She grabbed her hat from the bed, and pulled it on.
She dashed out of her room, throwing the door open and hastily putting on the trench-coat. Her breathing was heavy, and her nerves were shot. Absolutely shot.
Remember training, remember...'be calm in dire situations'...'be calm'...
Calm?
She thundered down the stairs, making the whole building shake; their little hideout seeming to tremble with her.
Thud. Thud.
Jessie rushed to the main door, fully ready to run around the whole of Unova in search of her best friend.
She threw open the door, sprinting out and running into...somebody.
They bowled over, she and the unknown being, crashing into the grass. What is this?
Warmth, and familiar things...
That electric touch, that rosy scent...
Calm settled over her, taking her in its arms, soothing her frantic heart. Is...is he...?
She opened her eyes, which she had shut tight, and saw two green eyes filled with shock.
Oh. It's you.
She felt his nose brushing against hers.
Shakily, she propped herself up and examined the man below her. His blue hair...there were leaves in it, and grass. His face was dirty and smeared with something dark. His uniform is torn at the hem.
He was alright, though. And his eyes...bright as ever. A small smile crept into her lips.
It belied the utter happiness within.
She realized their position, and blushed. She got up off him, stood, and offered her hand.
He took it, his hand enveloping hers. When was the last time they held hands? She felt tingly, for some reason. She pulled her up.
His feet rustled the grass as he struggled to get up.
For a moment, they just stood there, staring, both of them smiling awkwardly.
The sound of their breathing mingled with the symphony of the night.
Then, she scowled. "What took you so long?" She growled into his face. He winced.
James put a hand behind his head and smiled sheepishly. "I...got lost." His eyebrows scrunched up. "You were...worried?" He looked puzzled.
"N-no, I-" She turned away, heat creeping into her cheeks.
She tried to compose herself, and faced him again, trying to look him straight in the eye. No dice. "The tablet. It's with you, yes? I, uh, needed it."
He pulled the tablet from inside the bag over his shoulder. The surface of the little device caught the moonlight. "Oh, this? It...ran out of batteries."
"Oh."
"Uh, yes..."
They stood there, the awkwardness tangible.
Finally, she broke the silence. "Go to sleep, it's late. Tomorrow's mission will be grueling." Her expression was stoic.
"Y-yes, ma'am." He put the tablet way and looked at her expectantly.
"What?"
He gestured to the doorway in response.
"What? Oh..." She had been staring at him, she realized. Shoot.
She turned on her heel and marched back into their hideout. She stomped up the stairs again and made her way to her room. She stopped in front of the door.
She opened the door, softly this time, and crashed onto the bed. She sighed, and curled up, not even bothering with her trench-coat and the fact that the bed had no more pillows.
Silence. In silence, one listens.
She heard his soft steps as he climbed the stairway and entered his room. She heard his door click.
Silence again, save her breathing. Deafening, deafening silence. If I could throw a pillow at the silence...
She almost missed the clock now, it and its ceaseless ticking. She looked at the shattered mess at the foot of the bed, all that was left of it. She frowned.
It was almost company.
She sat up and sighed. Company.
She stood up, walked across the room, and opened the door.
A/N: Aaaaaaand there it is. Hope it didn't suck too much. I...tried to improve the characterization. I really did. It's still a little off, don't you think?
*awkward smile*
Alternative story title: "She fucking hates clocks." Ahaha! I laugh at my own fic.
So...review, criticize? Flame? FEEDBACK. I live on it. Pleez?