Letting her bike crash to the ground, Misty kicked off her shoes and walked to the river's edge. Sitting down on a patch of grass, she stuck her feet into the river and let the cool water rush through her toes. Normally, she came here to find solace in the one thing she loved more than anything, but now, she wasn't so sure if it was helping her like she hoped it would. Then again, she wasn't exactly helping herself by coming to where she was sitting now; but something had pulled her here. Maybe, to reassure her that the river was still there. That something had remained stable in her suddenly changed world. For, in the last three hours, everything around her had changed.

"I had a feeling I would find you here," she heard a voice behind her say.

When she turned around, she spotted Brock standing by a tree watching her. His expression looked about as expressionless as hers had been all day. She knew the reasons, too. They both did for that matter. Nothing, it felt to her, would be able to bring that smile back to their faces. Not after what had happened.

"Hey," she replied, her voice shaky and unsure.

Unconsciously, she pulled her feet from the water and brought them closer to her, wrapping her arms around her legs as if she was protecting herself. From what she was protecting herself from, she wasn't sure. More pain?

Without another word, Brock walked over and sat beside his friend. Not a word was uttered as they both stared at the river flowing past them. And although Misty wanted to be alone to begin with, she couldn't help but feel a little better knowing that her best friend was here with her.

"I keep waiting for him to hop out of the river and take my bike," she finally said.

Knowing what she was referring to, Brock gave a weak smile, trying to find something positive in what happened. Deep down, though, he wanted the same thing to happen just as much as she did-if not more for her. He had always known the feisty red head beside him to be a strong, almost unbreakable girl. As he had learned in the last couple hours, though, Misty was a lot more fragile than he had thought. The worst part for him was that he didn't know how to help her. There was only person she needed now. One who knew what to say to cheer her up and get her back to the Misty they all knew and loved. He wasn't here, though, and he wasn't about to come rushing down the river.

"He always knew how to make an entrance," he commented, not really sure what else to say.

"And an exit," he heard Misty say barely loud enough for him to hear. He wasn't quite sure what she meant by that statement, but he knew better to press the issue. She suddenly turned to look toward him, her eyes filled with curiosity. "Brock, how-how did it happen?"

The question threw Brock off. He thought the last thing Misty would want to know was what had led their best friend to his passing. He couldn't help but wonder why she wanted to know when he knew knowing would probably hurt her even more. Plus, up until the last three hours, she had never asked about him. It had always been something unspoken between the two of them ever since the day he left them four years ago. For her to even be talking about him was odd, but for her to ask what she had was even weirder.

"He was traveling through a cave when there was an explosion. He… he got trapped in a hole by the boulders that fell. It was only a matter of time before..." No matter how hard he tried, Brock couldn't find the strength to finish his sentence.

Misty just looked at her friend, her eyes filled with grief. She didn't understand how something like that could happen to her friend. She had traveled with him before and they had been in worse situations. Together they had survived all those. But this time, he had been alone and stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Team Rocket saw the whole thing happen," Brock added, much to Misty's surprise. Although, at the thought of Team Rocket, she instantly felt anger begin to boil inside her. If Team Rocket had been there then they must have caused the explosion that resulted in his death. And if this was true, she didn't think she could ever forgive them for taking away the one thing she loved. "They managed to move one boulder that created a hole large enough for him to give them his Pokemon. They tried to save him, but the other boulders covered the hole back up. They were too heavy for them to move no matter how hard they tried."

At the statement that his Pokemon were still alive, Misty felt herself perk up, more interested in the story than she was before. "Is…is Pikachu alive?"

"I don't know," Brock replied. Misty felt her shoulders slouch in disappointment. Knowing the electric mouse she had grown to love was alive would give her more hope than she had before. "Ms. Ketchum only told me that Team Rocket had called the police-anonymously, of course- and told them what happened. They were long gone before anybody found him. I guess later on they left a message with Professor Oak saying they had his Pokemon."

"Oh."

"They didn't cause this, Misty. They did everything they could to save him."

Brock didn't know why he felt he had to defend the criminal organization that had followed his friend since day one. But something about her tone and reactions caused him to feel that maybe, Misty was blaming Team Rocket for what happened. It made sense too, considering when he first found out, he had blamed them, too. But somehow, he knew that even Team Rocket wouldn't do something like that. They were petty criminals, not murders. Plus, they had tried to save him when they could have just left him and not told anyone, taking Pikachu and his other Pokemon with them.

"I should probably head back to the gym. They're probably wondering what happened to me," Misty said, her voice breaking through Brock's train of thought.

Standing up, Misty pulled her shoes back on and walked over to her bike. Hopping on, she couldn't help but glance at the river one more time. She still hoped he would come rushing down the river an injured Pikachu in his arms.

"I think they'll understand, Misty," Brock assured her.

Knowing Misty pretty well, Brock had anticipated her neglecting to tell her sisters what happened so, he had taken it upon himself to quickly call them on his way here and fill them in on what happened.

She just simply nodded, not really hearing what he said. "Bye, Brock." Glancing away, she rode off, leaving Brock at the river's edge.

OOOO

Once again, Misty found herself sitting next to Brock, not really sure what was going to happen next. She had gotten a call from Professor Oak the night before asking her to report to Viridian City that morning. Apparently, Brock and Gary had also received that same phone call.

They were all seated at a round table with Professor Oak facing them, his face expressionless. Despite having been dragged inside, he still hadn't told them what was going on.

"Thank you all for coming down here so quickly. I understand this might have been an inconvenience for you, but it was necessary I met with you three immediately," Professor Oak explained, his expression unchanging. As he looked around, he noticed the confused looks of the people in front of him. It was then that he realized that in the rush of everything that had happened, he had neglected to tell them why exactly they were here. "I brought you guys down here because I needed to give you some things, and I figured Viridian City was closer for all of you."

Four years, and this is how we finally hear from him: through Professor Oak, Misty thought angrily.

"Here we go," Professor Oak announced, picking up the piece of papers in front of him. "The things I have listed below, you have a choice in if you choose to accept them or not. If you choose not to, and someone else accepts the responsibility, it will be handed over to he or she. If nobody does, then it will be dealt with another way."

Misty, Brock and Gary all glanced at each other, unsure of what to expect. What was Professor Oak giving them?

"Brock," Professor Oak called. At this name, Brock instantly perked up, "With the exception of Pikachu, I am giving you Ash's Pokemon. I know that you will take care of them and be a great trainer for them." At this, Professor Oak pulled three Pokeballs out of his bag and slid them over to Brock, who accepted them without a word. "These are the three Pokemon I received from Team Rocket. All of his other Pokemon are back at the lab, and you are more than welcome to keep them there if you need to."

He very well knew that it would be difficult for Brock to take care of all of Ash's Pokemon on his own. Plus, he didn't think Brock had a big enough place for all of them. In addition, it would only help Ash's Pokemon if they were able to stay in a place they were familiar with while they adapted to the change in trainers.

"Where are the missing two Pokemon, Professor?" Misty asked, taking notice of the difference. "Shouldn't there be five?"

"Ash only had four Pokemon on him when he died," the Professor explained.

Taking into account what the Professor had said, Misty still found it very odd that this was the case. Ash was an experienced trainer who always had six Pokemon on him at all times. For him to only have four seemed odd. She didn't intend on saying anything, but something wasn't adding up.

Once the exchange had been completed, Professor Oak returned to the papers in front of him. "Gary, I know you've been looking for something to do, so I'm putting you in charge of the training school Ash opened in Viridian City," Professor Oak told his grandson. After rummaging around in his pocket for a few seconds, he pulled out a set of keys and placed them on the table. "Team Rocket told me he opened it two and a half years ago, and that he takes any trainers who want to learn, or just need a little extra help."

Through researching, Gary had heard trainers talk about the training school located in Viridian, but he had never known who ran it. So, it was safe to say that he was slightly surprised to find out it was run by his long time rival and childhood friend. He noticed that Misty and Brock seemed even more shocked than he was. Unlike them, Gary had actually heard from Ash after he suddenly disappeared. He just never imagined that the last time he would see Ash would be when he called two weeks before.

When he called, he never said much about himself, only asking how his friends were doing. He never wanted to talk about much, keeping secrets from Gary that he refused to reveal or talk about. Whenever Gary would try to convince Ash that he should call his friends, he would tell the researcher that he eventually would. He just needed more time-time that, unfortunately, had run out before he had done anything.

"I'll take it over," he replied, snatching the keys off the table and stuffing them in his pocket. Although he hadn't always gotten along with Ash, he owed it to his friend to try and continue something he had worked so hard on.

"I also found this in his backpack," he added, pulling what looked like half of a Pokeball out of a bag sitting next to her. "If I recall, it was very important to both you and him."

Picking up the old and beaten up object, he pulled the other half out of his pocket and put them together. He remembered that day so well, it being yet another day when he and Ash had gotten into a competition over something pointless. Despite having been at each other's throats that day, they had both kept a half to remind them of the rivalry they shared. And as Gary examined the old Pokeball, he couldn't help but feel as if a huge purpose of him being a trainer had suddenly disappeared. He no longer had someone he had to constantly stay ahead of.

As it suddenly dawned on Brock and Gary that Misty was the only one left, they couldn't help but feel pain for her. They knew she had always been special to Ash and Ash special to her, so they could only imagine how hard this was for her. Misty knew it too, but she didn't know what Ash would have to give her.

"Misty, I'm giving you Pikachu," the professor told her. "You two were very important in Ash's life, and I think it would help you both if you had each other."

Pulling a Pokeball out of his pocket, he slowly slid it across the table and toward Misty. As it sat there in front of her, she just stared. As weird as it sounded, she was afraid to pick it up, worried that Pikachu would break free and wonder where its trainer was. If he did Misty would have to break the unfortunate news to the pokemon that its trainer wasn't coming back. What confused her even more, though, was why she had been given Pikachu. Why not Brock, who had received Ash's other pokemon to? What was so special about her that Professor Oak was positive she would be the ideal trainer for Pikachu?

Noticing Misty's uncertainty, Brock slowly picked up the pokeball and hit the button in the center. The light traveled from the ball to the center of the table where a Pikachu materialized in front of them. Realizing it had been sprung free, Pikachu began to search around for its trainer, scared by the unfamiliar environment it found itself currently in. When it spotted Misty and Brock, Pikachu gave out a cry of joy before bounding over to them. Noticing something was off with his surroundings, he stopped a few feet from Misty.

"Pikapi?" it asked them, tilting it's head to the side.

Although Brock understood what Pikachu wanted, he and Gary remained silent, allowing Misty to answer.

"He's not here, Pikachu," she told the little mouse, her voice cracking as she tried to hold back the tears.

Slightly understanding what she had said, Pikachu quickly became confused as to why Misty was telling him Ash wasn't there. Sensing the sadness in its trainer's best friend, Pikachu became even more worried, concerned as to why Misty was so upset. Pikachu knew how Misty felt toward his trainer, so for her to get upset must have meant something was wrong with Ash.

"Pikapi! Pika!" it yelled, it's voice all frantic.

"Pikachu," Brock spoke up, knowing Misty wasn't going to say anything, "Ash, he…he didn't make it Pikachu. Team Rocket got you out, but they… they couldn't save him."

At this, Pikachu finally understood what had happened. Little tears started to fall down his cheeks, his sadness becoming to strong for him to try and hold back. Before Pikachu could run off or sink deeper into sadness, Misty scooped him up in her arms and pulled the little mouse close. Although she still couldn't understand why she had been given Pikachu, she couldn't help but think it was because Professor Oak was right. She would need Pikachu as much as Pikachu needed her.

"Pikapi pi pi pi?" Pikachu squeaked, moving his head so he could look at Misty's face.

Unlike before, neither Brock nor Misty understood what Pikachu was asking them. This was a new word neither of them had heard Pikachu ever say. While the two words separately were words they recognized, put together they couldn't understand the meaning.

"They're okay, Pikachu," the professor replied, being the only one who understood what Pikachu was inquiring about.

"You know who Pikachu's talking about?" Brock asked, surprised.

Realizing his slip up, the professor quickly retraced his steps. "Pikachu was asking about Team Rocket."

Although Misty and Brock were pretty sure that wasn't Pikachu's word for Team Rocket-and that Pikachu probably wouldn't care much about Team Rocket-they didn't want to press the Professor at such a delicate time. Plus, before could ask further questions, the Professor Oak continued on.

"There's something else," he announced, causing all three of them to look up. "I found these in his backpack."

Once again, Professor Oak reached down beside him and pulled out a pink handkerchief and a worn looking lure. Without even being told what they were, Misty instantly knew what was sitting in front of her. She had given him these long ago, yet she had no idea that he had kept them that long. Grabbing them off the table, she examined them in her hand, letting her fingers trace the outline of the lure. She hadn't made one of these since she had sent him one.

"Thank you," Misty replied.

"Did you give anything to Ash's other friends?" Gary asked, knowing that Ash had friends other than Brock and Misty.

"I have mailed them their items," Professor Oak replied. "Other than that, there is nothing else I have for you. Team Rocket gave us the address of Ash's apartment in Viridian City, so sometime in the near future Delia is going to go clean it out."

"Tell her to call me," Misty said. "I'll go with her. She shouldn't have to go there by herself. It'll be too hard."

"Alright, Misty. I'll be sure to let her now." Standing up, the Professor pushed in his chair and grabbed the piece of paper off the desk. "Thanks again for coming down here. If you ever need anything, please let me know."

OOOO

The first few days seemed to go by painfully slow. Having closed the gym for personal reasons, Misty hadn't done much of anything except lying on the couch in her pajamas, watching reruns of league battles. Brock had stopped by her apartment a few times to check on her, but they both knew that no amount of trying to cheer her up was really proving effective. When he would come over, they would sit on the couch with Pikachu and watch Ash battle. She knew what the outcomes for each battle were-she had been there in person-but just seeing him the way she remembered comforted her.

Sometime later that week she received a phone call from Ms. Ketchum detailing her plans of going to clean out Ash's apartment. Just as she had told the professor earlier, knowing this was a tough time for Ms. Ketchum, she quickly obliged. So, later that day she found herself in her car, driving to some unknown apartment located in Viridian City. If she'd known he had been that close the entire time, she would have reached out and tried to visit.

When she arrived at the apartment, she spotted Ms. Ketchum and Brock standing outside waiting for her. Since they hadn't spotted her, Misty took the time to observe them from afar. They were chatting-probably making small talk while they waited for her-giving weak smiles as if to convince the other that they were doing okay. Ms. Ketchum, always bright and full of energy, looked almost dead, and for once, old. The stress of the situation had definitely gotten to her, as Misty spotted some grey mixed in with her auburn strands. Her friend Brock looked cold and distant, as if he was lost as to what to do. Just like Misty had for him, he had tried to stay strong for Ms. Ketchum. This, however, was proving to take its toll on him, as Brock looked like he hadn't slept in days. Then again, neither had she.

"I'm here," she finally announced as she stepped out of the car.

At the sight of her, they both exchanged weak smiles. Locking her car, she walked over to them and waited for further instructions. She didn't really want to talk small talk today; she just wanted to get this over with.

As if Ms. Ketchum understood what Misty was feeling, she nodded her head confidently before leading the way to up the steps and down a hallway. They took the elevator to floor number three before stepping out and following Ms. Ketchum to apartment number 304. Pulling out a key, Ms. Ketchum put it into the lock before turning it. When it was unlocked, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. Despite the door being open, though, none of them dared enter first.

When agreeing to help Delia with cleaning out Ash's apartment, Misty hadn't anticipated what she would be feeling now after getting her first glance at it. She hadn't heard from her friend in four years, and now she was about to step into an apartment she never knew about filled with a life of his she never knew about. She didn't know what scared her most: what she would find, or what memories would cloud her head?

Finally Brock stepped into the apartment, breaking the invisible barrier between the life of their friend Misty and Brock knew and the one they didn't. When they entered the apartment, the first thing she noticed was the coat rack standing alongside the wall. It was barely filled, its contents consisting of a blue hoodie and an umbrella. While Ms. Ketchum and Brock ventured into the kitchen, Misty decided to take another route and head for the other rooms-specifically the bedroom. Why she wanted to check it out, she didn't know. Maybe she hopped that it was where he had been hiding everything that would explain what happened in the past four years.

After walking up a small set of steps, Misty found it snuggled in the right corner of the floor, its door wide open as if it was inviting her to walk in. The bed was the first thing she spotted with its unmade covers almost falling off the bed. Nearby, she saw some shirts scattered haphazardly on the floor. If anything, the state of the bed and the clothing only proved to her that even though she hadn't seen him in years, he was still the same, even down to the day of his death. Although, she had to admit, the room itself looked a little too clean for Ash.

On the wall across from her was a sliding closet that was slightly ajar, as if someone hadn't shut it all the way. Tiptoeing over the clothes scattered on the floor, she made her way to the closet. Sliding it open she felt a sudden rush of sadness and pain when she saw the pile of his old clothes neatly folded, a red and white hat sitting on top. There had been a reason she hadn't brought Pikachu with her. She knew it would be tough on her seeing everything, so she hadn't brought Pikachu in order to spare him the sights and smells of his deceased trainer.

This was his, she couldn't help but think as her fingers traced the green L on the front of the hat. Quickly looking at the door, she almost expected him to walk in and catch her going through his stuff. The moment she had entered the room she almost sensed eeriness to it. She didn't expect him to suddenly appear in front of her in a ghost form. But that didn't stop her from believing that he was watching her from somewhere she didn't know.

As she searched deeper in the closet, she found an old picture frame lying on the floor. It had a picture of her and Ash taken shortly after he had returned from Hoenn. Grasping the picture in her hand, she walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Setting the picture in the box she had to carry the things she found, she grabbed his pillow and pulled it close. She didn't care what she was doing; she needed this. The second the pillow came centimeters from her face; her nose was filled with the smells she knew to be his. That's when she finally gave into her emotions and let herself cry.

The crying had quickly escalated into sobbing as she started shaking, her sadness morphing into anger. Anger at him for leaving her; anger at herself for never searching for him-for blindly thinking he would return on his own. So why was it that when he finally decided to contact her weeks before his death, she had pushed him away, not wanting anything to do with him? Now, of course, she regretted it more than anything. If she had only known what would happen, she could have spent a few more weeks with him and maybe even stopped him. But just like the fact that he wasn't going to walk into the room to collect his dirty laundry, she had to accept it wasn't going to happen.