A Princess in Disguise

Green eyes shining with happiness, James twirled, his skirt billowing prettily in the afternoon breeze. He loved dressing up. In his regimented childhood, he had never been permitted time to pretend or play or imagine, but at last he could fully indulge his taste for elaborate costumes and disguises.

He wore a full skirt of Delft blue, a white blouse with puffy sleeves and a matching blue and white checked apron. Silky white stockings and blue high-heeled shoes decorated with bows completed the ensemble. The wig he wore was blue as well, though a very much lighter shade than his own hair, tied up with blue ribbons and bows. He carried a shepherd's crook, also decorated with ribbons, in his hand.

Jessie loved dress-up as much as her partner did. She was dressed as a little shepherd boy. She wore lederhosen with shiny brass buttons and elaborately patterned suspenders. Her thick red hair was hidden beneath a straw hat. She carried a horn.

"What do you think?" James asked, glancing at the third member of the team.

"Da twerps will never reconnize ya," Meowth assured him.

They looked, he thought, like a matching set of salt and pepper shakers.

Jessie's plan was to convince the twerps that they were shepherds who have lost their sheep. The twerps, helpful if rather dim-witted, would split up to help them find it, giving Team Rocket the chance to snatch away Ash's beloved and powerful Pikachu. Then Team Rocket would discard their disguises and reveal themselves, deliver their carefully choreographed team motto, and sail away with Pikachu in their getaway balloon. It's was a plan that couldn't possibly fail.

Jessie took out a compact mirror. She smiled at her image in the mirror. No costume could disguise her beauty.

"Let me see," James said, reaching for the mirror. He looked at his own reflection. He wasn't quite perfect. Something was missing.

"Glitter!" James said, his voice rising an octave in excitement. "I have some silvery blue glitter that will look beautiful sprinkled over my wig. Everything's better with sparkles!"

He had left the glitter with their other supplies in the basket of their balloon and raced to retrieve it.

"Hurry," Jessie called out. "The twerps will be here any second!"

James tripped over the peg that tethered the balloon to the ground and fell flat on his face. Hardly pausing to dust himself off, he dove into the basket of the balloon. In his haste, he threw out the other supplies. The grass in front of the balloon was strewn with clothes, make-up, and pots and pans (but no food) by the time James finally found what he wanted – a plastic envelope of shiny bluish metallic glitter. He stood up, slightly dishevelled but triumphant, waving his precious find. He took out a handful of glitter to sprinkle on his wig, but the glitter was blown away by a strong wind.

The basket lurched suddenly, and James clutched the side of the basket to keep his balance. When he had tripped over the spike, he had accidentally released the balloon He was far above the ground, much too high up to jump. The wind was picking up, and there was nowhere to land safely, even if he was able to bring the balloon under control.

Below he could see Jessie jumping up and down with rage at James's incompetence, which had scuppered her otherwise flawless plan. Meowth waved, and James waved back. The twerps have arrived as well and were standing in the clearing. They pointed and laughed at the out-of-control balloon of their arch-rivals.

"You could try to help instead of laughing at me, " James muttered to himself, although Ash's idea of helping would probably involve James being zapped by a thousand volts from his little yellow electric rat.

The balloon headed out over the ocean. The water below was choppy and James was beginning to feel alarmed. Of course, he's been in danger before, dozens of times, but usually Jessie and Meowth were there, and it was a lot easier to be brave when they were around. The coastline was receding rapidly, and the rest of Team Rocket were barely visible dots on the horizon. He was alone.

The first drops of rain spattered on his beautiful blue skirt. There was a rumble of distant thunder. James considered ditching the balloon in the ocean, rather than taking a chance with the approaching storm, which was driving the balloon further and further away from the shore. He was not sure whether the balloon basket will float. Despite years of swimming lessons (and every other kind of lesson), he'd never been more than an adequate swimmer.

Fortunately, he spotted another possibility. He was approaching a small island. James manoeuvred the balloon closer to that speck of land, knowing that this was his best chance. There was no real beach to land on, only rocky shoals, and then forested land and James's best chance didn't seem like much of a chance at all. Then he spotted a field. There was no time for finesse; he had to make a crash landing. The balloon touched down on the field, but the winds picked it back up and sent it straight towards a grove of trees. James jumped out before the balloon hit the trees. He landed awkwardly in the dirt. The balloon crashed into the trees, which ripped a long, jagged tear in its silk. The basket crashed hard against a tree trunk. What remained was little more than kindling.

The rain began in earnest now, and James got to his feet, looking for shelter. He avoided the grove of trees, which seemed in his disordered state of mind to be dark and malicious, ready to do to him what they had already done to Team Rocket's balloon. Instead, he burrowed into a haystack, making himself a comfortable cave, and waited for the rain to stop. He soon fell asleep.

I can't believe that James could be so selfish!" Jessie said, putting their meagre possessions in a pile. "Taking our balloon on a joy ride just when we were about to finally catch that darned Pikachu."

"I don't think dat was a joy ride," Meowth said. "Jimmy looked pretty scared..."

"Well, then he was careless and that's worse. You're sure he landed on that island over there?"

"Dat's what I saw t'rough the binoculars. Looked liked a rough landing, though. Maybe he had to stay to fix up the balloon."

"Well, I'm not waiting. I'm going over to the island to get him."

"How? We ain't got a boat and we ain't got the money for the ferry."

"Some criminal you are, if you can't solve a little problem like that."

"So you've got a plan?"

"Yes," Jesse said. "We're going to be buskers. I'll be the ventriloquist and you'll be my dummy. We'll have the money for the fare in no time."

Not as bad as he feared, Tom thought, as he surveyed the damage done to his crops by the storm. The farmer was a tanned and muscular young man, with white-blond hair and a multitude of freckles. His faithful Growlithe was at his side.

Spotting the wreckage of Team Rocket's balloon, Tom walked towards the woods to take a closer look. He frowned in annoyance. Someone was going to have to clean up the mess, and he suspected that someone was going to be himself.

His Pokemon growled and Tom turned around.

"What is it, Growlithe? Is there a Rattata in the haystack?"

Tom went to the barn to get his pitchfork. Jabbing it into the hay, he called out in a threatening voice, "Come out, you filthy creature!"

There was a distinctly human cry from the depths of a haystack and then a face appeared.

"I know I need a bath," James conceded, "but there's no need to be rude."

Tom saw a lovely young girl. Her wig was covered with straw and askew, so that Tom could see locks of real hair underneath, which was periwinkle blue, much prettier than her wig. Her dress was torn and dirty, but everything about her said that she was no humble farm worker. No real farm worker would walk through muddy fields chasing after sheep in high-heeled shoes and white stockings. What Tomas saw was a spoiled little princess masquerading as a shepherdess.

It must have been her balloon destroyed by the storm; he imagined a little rich girl's diversion – an amusing balloon ride – gone badly wrong.

Growlithe warily eyed the stranger, his growl barely audible.

James held his hand, which was bleeding, grazed by Tomas's pitchfork. He couldn't remember the last time he ate, and he was thirsty, and his body ached everywhere, and the sun was very hot and bright. He winced against the glare.

James extricated himself from the hay pile and dusted himself off, surreptitiously rearranging his wig. He swayed slightly, squinting at Tom in the bright sunlight. .

"I don't feel very well," he said in a tiny voice. "May I have a glass of water?"

James forgot that he was supposed to be a woman and he spoke in his own voice, but Tom didn't notice, because the oddly-dressed stranger had turned ghastly pale beneath her heavy makeup. James collapsed, and it was no aristocratic swoon: there was nothing elegant or graceful about the way he went down. Belatedly, Tom jumped forward to catch him just before his head hit the ground.

James was not out for a long, and when he woke up, Tom's face was above his, haloed by the morning sun. The farmer looked concerned.

"You have a bump on your head the size of a hen's egg. You didn't tell me you bumped my head."

"Did I?" James said vaguely, "I don't remember doing that.'

"You probably hit your head when your balloon went down."

"I don't have a balloon," James said, stubbornly sticking to Jessie's story. "I have sheep. I'm a shepherdess and I have to find my lost sheep."

Tom smiled, bent down and held out his hand. James took it, and the farmer pulled him to his feet.

"My name's Tom, what's yours?"

"Jamesina."

"We'll look for your lost sheep after breakfast. When did you last have something to eat?"

"The day before yesterday," James said, too dazed to lie. "I wanted to fit into this skirt and besides we didn't have any money to buy any."

"Spent it all on clothes, did you?"

James nodded, a bad mistake, but Tom was better prepared this time and grabbed him before his knees gave way.

"I think I'd better carry you."

"I'm a lot heavier than I look. I can walk."

"And I'm a lot stronger than I look," Tom said, scooping James into his arms and striding vigourously towards the farmhouse.

Growlithe followed a few paces behind. It sensed that there was something wrong about this stranger and that made the Pokemon uneasy. He didn't seem to be a danger, but still he was not what he appeared to be.

To James's secret disappointment, he and Tom were not breakfasting alone. Katy had freckles and white gold hair just like Tom, but she was much more formidable than he was. Tom's eyes were kind and caring, but Katy's grey eyes were cold.

While their guest was eating her (third) bowl of oatmeal, she regarded Jamesina sceptically. She was not a shepherdess. If her ridiculous outfit was not enough proof by itself, a few questions had quickly revealed Jamesina's totally ignorance of sheep and farm life.

Desperately trying to change the topic from agriculture to anything else, James commented on a Pokemon dozing in the corner of the kitchen.

"What a nice Squirtle. Is he yours?" he asked Katy.

"Definitely not. I prefer grass-type Pokemon. .Tom found this Squirtle when it was baby, too young to be by itself. It must have been separated from its mother. My brother has a habit of taking in waifs and strays," she said pointedly looking at Jamesina.

James had assumed that Katy was Tom's wife. He was so pleased to find out that she was only his sister that it took him a while to realize that he has been insulted. He was not a waif or a stray. It was true that when Tom found him, he was penniless lost and alone, injured and hungry, but he was also a member of Team Rocket. He was (or would be someday) a criminal mastermind.

"There's isn't a real Pokemon Centre on the island, so I sometimes look after sick, injured or abandoned Pokemon," Tom explained. "I do what I can, but I send any really serious cases back to the mainland."

He shot an angry glance at his sister.

"Isn't it time for you to go to work?"

"Not quite yet," said Katy. "Unlike my brother, who just putters around the family farm all day, I have a really important job. I work for the famous and renowned Professor Linden, the expert on grass Pokemon. He has many rare and exceptional grass-types that are found nowhere else in the world."

"I love grass-type Pokemon. I have a grass Pokemon of my own, a Victreebell."

"A Victreebell," Katy said, for the first time warming up to her brother's latest acquisition. "My very first Pokemon was a Weepinbell. I was so proud of her when she evolved."

"Why don't you let your Victreebell out?" Tom suggested. "He can play with Growlithe."

"I'm still training my Victreebell," James admitted. "He's not always well-behaved."

"A bit rambunctious, huh?" said Tom. "We'll go outside, then."

He led James out to a wide and inviting green lawn bordered by neat flower beds. Growlithe gambolled in the grass, and Katy, who had apparently forgotten that she had a very important job to go to, released her own Treecko to join him. They looked expectantly at James.

James pulled out a Pokeball and released Victreebell, who showed his affection for his owner in its customary fashion.

"No, no, don't! Stop that! Stop eating my head!"

James's voice was muffled, but distinctly unfeminine, as he struggled to get the grass-type Pokemon to let go of his head. He could hear the distant sound of Katy's uncontrollable laughter. Blindly, he stumbled into Katy's prized flower beds, trampling the blooms and painfully scratching himself on her rose bushes.

Finally the Pokemon released him. James's wig had fallen off and his make-up had dissolved. There was no disguising it anymore. Jamesina, Tom's princess in disguise, was a boy. Red-faced with embarrassment, James bolted, his Victreebell at his heels.

After a moment of stunned surprise, Tom followed.

"Don't bother," Janet called out. "That little fake is already gone. You don't need to chase him away."

"That's not what I'm going to do."

James hid himself in the darkness of an old shed, waiting for nightfall so that he could skulk away without having to explain himself to Tom. Victreebell, sensing that he was in disgrace, had returned to his Pokeball, but Weezing kept his owner company and was doing his best to cheer him up.

"I should have just torn off my wig and told him from the start that I was James from Team Rocket. It was stupid to lie. But it's so much harder to be Team Rocket when Jessie and Meowth aren't there. I can't be Team Rocket all by myself."

"Weezing," said Weezing sympathetically.

"Jamesina," Tom called. "Is that you?"

"My name's not really Jamesina."

"I know that," Tom said, "but I've got to call you something, and I don't know your real name."

"I'm sorry for tricking you."

"You didn't trick me. From the moment I saw you, I knew you weren't a shepherdess. You were much prettier, much more glamorous than any real shepherdess. I thought at first you were a princess in disguise.

Then you fainted, and I picked you up and I knew the real truth. Not a shepherdess, not a princess in disguise, but a prince! So much better. I like princesses, but I could only really love a prince!"

James smiled.

"My real name is James."

"Hello, James."

Tom was smiling too, and James noticed the adorable little crow's feet around his brilliant blue eyes – have to get him some really strong sunscreen, he thought – and then he was in Tom's arms and Tom's lips were pressed against his, and James's capacity for rational thought, never particularly great, disappeared entirely. It was his first kiss – well, no, not technically, there had been Jessebelle of course and a few others – but it was his first kiss that really mattered. He was lost in the sheer bliss of loving someone who loved him back.

Being with Tom was so much better than any dream that James ever had or could have. It was so good that it had to be real.

The guileless adoration in James's eyes made Tom feel uneasy. He wished he'd had the luxury of taking things slowly, of getting to know his beautiful visitor better, but after a long period of abstinence, it had taken every ounce of his willpower to resist making love to him in the dirty dusty shed – to hold off just long enough to lead him back to his bedroom. With his delicate girlish features and lithe athletic body, James had dropped out of nowhere and into his life, as if created in that instant specifically to tempt him.

"I hate to love you and leave you," Tom said, "but, despite what my sister thinks, I do have work to do. You're welcome to stay. I'll be back around lunchtime."

He got out of bed, heading towards the shower, and James's eyes followed him. James could have loved Tom no matter what he looked like because he was kind and gentle, but Cupid had taken no chances. His lean, muscular body was as beautiful as his soul.

"I'll make you lunch," James promised rashly, momentarily forgetting that his cooking skills hardly extended beyond boiling an egg.

"You don't have to do that. You're my guest. You can borrow some of my clothes if you like. They'll be a bit big and they aren't fashionable, and of course they're men's clothes."

"I don't wear girl's clothes all the time," James said. "I hardly ever do. Only as a disguise."

"A disguise?" Tom asked curiously. "Why would you want to disguise yourself?"

"I meant like a costume. I like to dress up. I know it's a bit silly. You don't mind, do you?"

"I don't mind. I like everything about you."

"Dere's da balloon, but where's Jimmy?"

"He can't have gone far," Jesse said. "not in those heels. Let's ask that local yokel if he's seen James."

None of Tom's clothes fit. They made him look like a child wearing his father's clothes.

James was tempted to raid Katy's closet – she was more his size – but he could imagine her reaction if she caught him. Katy's sarcasm was even nastier than his partner Jessie's fits of rage.

James felt the tiniest twinge of guilt at the thought of Jessie and Team Rocket but brushed it aside. He was too busy exploring Tom's house and imagining himself as part of Tom's life. Tom would give up farming (which James thought was awfully dull) and he and James would open up a luxury spa and rehabilitation centre for Pokemon.

James opened a door to a glassed-in porch on the side of the house. The windows were open to let in the sun and air. The porch, he decided, would make a perfect solarium. All that really needed to be done was replace the worn lawn chairs with smart chaises longues. The future solarium already had its first patient: a Charmander with its arm in a sling, enjoying the late morning sunshine.

"How are you?" James asked. "You must be one of Tom's waifs and strays, just like me. Are you getting better?"

The Charmander nodded, and James took the seat next to the Pokemon's, He would just rest for a moment, and then he would get busy and make Tom a magnificent lunch to pay him back for his hospitality. James closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin and envisioning a long row of rare and prized Pokemon, each one with a wealthy owner willing to pay a fortune to make sure that his Pokemon got the best possible care.

There was a chime, sweet, soothing, and pure, and James felt perfectly content, perfectly happy. Opening his eyes, he spotted a Chimecho, and jumped to his feet to meet the healing Pokemon.

"Your voice is so beautiful!" he told the Pokemon, "I've always wanted a Chimecho ever since I was a boy. I bet Tom loves you a lot. This shows how well matched Tom and I are. We even like the same Pokemon!"

"Get away from my Chimecho, you thief!" Toms yelled.

Startled, James looked out the window and saw Tom coming towards him, waving a pitchfork menacingly. Jessie and Meowth took up the rear.

"You're with Team Rocket!"

"You better believe it," Meowth said. "We're very high up in da organization."

"Katy's told me about you. Team Rocket is always up to no good – trying to steal the Professor Linden's rare grass-type Pokemon. That must be why you came to the island!"

"That was his plan all along," Jessie lied, "but he wasn't expecting the storm to crash our balloon."

"I want you gone, off my property, before I call Officer Jenny and have you arrested for trespassing."

"I was going to make you lunch..."

"Fine, we're going." Jessie said, dodging past the farmer's waving pitchfork and grabbing James's arm. "Help me, Meowth. You push and I pull!"

Working together, they managed to drag him off the porch and across the lawn, heading for the road.

""But... but...I really like him. I think that maybe I'm in love..."

"Don't be absurd. You hardly knew him. You can't fall in love with someone you've only known for a few hours.

Besides you don't want to be stuck on some poky little farm in the middle of nowhere, looking after Bulbosaurs with upset tummies, when you could be part of Team Rocket. What you really want is power and money and success. What would the boss think if he knew that you nearly threw away our glorious future for some hayseed from the sticks!"

James turned back. Tom was watching their departure, his face stony and impassive. Half-heartedly, James waved good-bye, but Tom's stern expression did not change.

"I guess you're right."

"Of course, I'm right. First thing to do is for you to get rid of those AWFUL clothes."

James changed into his Team Rocket uniform. He left Tom's clothes in a neat pile for the farmer to find. He started to walk away, and then turned back, impulsively grabbed Tom's shirt from the pile and stuffed it into the bottom of his backpack. He was, after all, a thief.

Tom was furious with James but even more furious with himself. He trusted too much; he fell in love too easily; he allowed other people to take advantage of him. Katy was right – he was too soft-hearted and emotional.

Storming through the house, he destroyed all evidence that James had ever there. He tore the sheets from the bed that they had shared and stuffed them in the laundry hamper. He broke the bowl that James had used, not even noticing the cuts on his hands as he picked up the shards of broken glass and threw them in the garbage. He grabbed the clothes that James left behind, that ridiculous costume, and that too went into the garbage. He slammed down the lid of the garbage pail, but a little square of Delft blue poked out.

Tom pulled the skirt out. It was made of real silk. It would be a waste to throw away something so beautiful and fine, and he was a thrifty farmer, who hated waste.

Tom smoothed out the wrinkles, carefully folded it, and put it the bottom drawer of his dresser.