A/N I wrote this at about thirteen years (my age). As such, it is filled with corny cliches, and way too much sweet and tender love scenes. This story holds a very special place in my heart. It was the first story that I ever finished, and the only one I never showed to a soul. Please be kind. I do not write like this now (though some of it I wish I did still). This story is incredibly important to me.

As a side note, if that makes you leave you will be MISSING OUT! It may be written by a thirteen year old, but the imagination that went into this was beyond what I usually use. This is a deep adventure story, with plot and romance that is unique. Though I'm not trying to brag (really). Also, if you're thirteen or younger, I mean no disrespect. Imagination is ripest at these ages. Keep writing if you do so.

Warning: If you do not like AshxMisty or DrewxMay, you will hate this story with all you possess. Please leave the page. If you like these couples and enjoy the occasional overly cliche sweet moments, chances are you will love this story.

Alright enjoy. Review! I sincerely hope that this story is enjoyed. It's honestly the only reason that I am posting it.

He was lying on his back on an empty bed. White sheets covered the bed, but common luxeries ended there. Nobody would believe that the room was the living quarters of a young child. There wasn't a toy in site, nor anything that a boy might enjoy. A few scratchy blankets were heaped in a pile on the floor, pushed off of the bed because of the heat. There was no pillow, but he didn't care for them anyway. . . . That was what he told himself. When something went wrong his common reasoning to himself was that he didn't care. Because in order to make it through he had to not care. Caring made it harder.

Slipping out of bed in a scratchy jeans and a green sweater that seemed significantly larger than it was supposed to be for one so small, the boy stealthily tip-toed to the door and hesitantly placed his ear against it. He didn't want it to happen, but he had to hear. Noise came at him from down the hall outside his room, then down the stairs that led to a small kitchen. Screaming. A girl was screaming, which was quickly followed by various crashing sounds.

Again she screamed, but this time she called out a name. His name.

He flinched and clenched his eyes shut, willing back any tears that would try to show his weakness. It didn't work.

Again she called.

He bit his lip, willing himself courage, and peaked through the door without opening it all the way. No one was outside the door, but he still couldn't move. He knew they were both down stairs, but he had to make sure. Another crash; he closed his eyes and began to shake. She continued to call for him and he knew why. It was supposed to be him down there, not her, everything was because of him. But still . . . he couldn't find the courage to move his feet down the hall and announce that he should be punished, to switch the terrible pain from his mother to him.

She didn't say a name now. She knew she couldn't, he was sick of hearing it. Instead she pulled in a breath and begged. "Please!" Then it was silent. And he knew . . . he would never hear her say his name again.

The memory came to a standstill at this point. There was no way he could think about it further right now. Besides, he didn't care so why think about it?

He pulled his hands from his pockets to breath into them, staring up at the stars. The area here wasn't cold, but at night it could be. It was very different from the place that he had grown up in. That was why he loved it.

The memory gradually faded from his mind and switched to another. Without his permission, a new memory began to rise.

The first time he met her.

He had been young. Well younger. Every excuse there was he used to leave the house. At the time, his excuse had been that he was going to go see a coordinator battle with some friends. When he got out he wondered what he should actually do. With no reason not to, he decided that he really would go see the coordinator battle. He fished up almost all of the money he had earned from random yard work and went to watch. . . . He loved it.

It was refined. Elegant in a way that regular pokemon battles were not. And yet the skill that it took to pull it off looked difficult enough to be worth the effort. He was especially drawn to some of the grass pokemon.

Afterwords, he watched the trainers with their pokemon. Checking on the ones that were injured and giving words of praise before calling them back, or carrying them instead. Most weren't injured very much, it wasn't as brutal as a pokemon battle. He was instantly enthralled.

There was a woman that drew him in the most. He wasn't drawn by her beauty, though she certainly possessed more than enough of it, he was drawn by her talent. By the grace and control she held at the same time. Solidad.

It was a few weeks later that he was able to meet her in person for the first time. He wasn't sociable. It wasn't that he was shy, he just didn't know what to say. What was interesting, and what did he ever hold in common with other people? But the instant he saw her, he ran to meet her and didn't stop to consider what to say until he had reached her. Bad move.

She was standing in front of an amusement park, she wasn't going in but she was watching as she passed by. He hadn't planned on attending either. It made him wonder what had placed them both in the place most unlikely to meet. His eyes widened and he ran to her. He froze when he reached her, mouth agape. He wanted to be like her so much, he wanted to meet her. But what should he say? He wasn't going to be an obsessed fanboy.

At the time, he considered it a miracle that she even noticed him. But she knew a fan when she saw one. Regardless of the quite different aura he held so strongly. Kindly, as was her nature, she lowered herself to his level, bending only slightly. "What's your name?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, then realized what he must look like and answered, "Drew," but stopped there. He didn't know what else to say.

She stood back up. "Well, it's nice to meet you Drew. My name's Solidad." She stuck out her hand and smiled. "But I'm guessing you already knew that."

He nodded and took her outstretched hand, holding off a jump when their hands touched. "It's nice to meet you too." His voice was barely over a whisper but steady as he tried to look her in the eye. She was what he thought she'd be and he had enough experience to know that people rarely were.

She pulled her hand away. People usually asked for autographs, but he hadn't said much of anything. "Would you like anything?"

He blinked and then stiffened.. "Oh . . . no."

She had trouble hearing him, but it wasn't that hard to pick out. Still, she got the feeling that he didn't want to return to wherever she had come from. She took a quick scan around them. "Would you like to get something to eat? If you have any questions I could answer them for you. My treat."

Drew glanced at the shops as well before he nodded and followed her to the shop.

When they reached the shop, Solidad ordered for both of them. She asked him random questions and he replied with timid and quiet answers. He pulled up his sleeves as little as possible so he could keep them clean while he ate, but Solidad could still see that there were bruises up his arms.

Something in the him managed to pull out the maternal side of Solidad. After that, they began to meet up more often, mostly through invitations of Solidad's. Gradually Drew warmed up to her and she began to see the real him that he had never really known himself. He'd been acting, been afraid and careful for far too long. It was some time after they really came to know each other that Solidad came up with an idea. He had made tremendous progress. So much had changed with him. But there was still something missing. She noticed his side glances at groups of friends and the barely concealed longing glances at pokemon and their trainers. He was finally almost old enough to coordinate for himself. It would heal him, she was sure of it. But in order to do that, he was going to need a few things. He would need money for sure, he would need at a starting pokemon. . . . he would need an adult that would allow him to do it. It would be worth it. Having this would give him confidence, real confidence and not the front he used as a shield. It would free him.

And so her plan was set.

On their next meeting Solidad handed him a small pokemon. The decision hadn't been all that difficult, all things considered. She had thought carefully about it, but she only needed to watch him to see what he was drawn to.

As Drew stared at her blankly she realized what a big step this was. She urged him to take it and he did, carefully schooling his features, controlling his shaking. Did she realize that this was the first gift that anyone (outside of his mother) had ever given him? Did she know what she was giving him? Was it really for him? He looked at her again to make sure, studying her expression as quickly as he could before pressing the button on the ball. Standing in front of him almost instantly was a young rose pokemon.

Drew couldn't stop his lips from separating, couldn't stop the small exhale of breath. He looked back at Solidad with barely disguised scrutiny.

Solidad nodded to Roselia, and the pokemon jumped into Drew's arms with an exclamation of its own name. Drew stumbled, keeping his arms at his sides. His expression was filled with shock, surprise, and a tinge of fear. As if he was afraid that it was all just a wonderful dream or that there was some trick behind her actions.

Carefully he reached his hands up and held the pokemon at arms length. She was beautiful and well groomed, the smile covering the pokemon's face told him that she had been well cared for, perhaps by Solidad herself. She was, without a doubt, the best gift he could ever receive.

Solidad cleared her throat with a expectant though teasing smile, and Drew turned to her again. He looked at her only a moment more before a smile slowly spread across his face.

He didn't say anything. Solidad knew that emotion was hard for him to deal with, showing it was even more difficult and there was no doubt to why. But she could tell that he was thankful and she knew that he would take care of Roselia like no one else would. His carefully held back smile was enough to tell her that he was bursting with happiness.

She looked forward to the day she would be able to watch him progress through his goals, and out of the life he had been forced to live with till now.

Drew pulled out of his musings and put his hands in pockets heading back up to the hotel. He had a coordinator battle the next day.

Now it was different.

A/N
After this chapter the story jumps strait into the plot. . . . I didn't have a lot of patience at thirteen. I'm not even sure why my prologue was all about Drew when the story isn't. Not to mention how AU it is. "Isn't Drew rich? Isn't he overconfident?" I tried to make that work with this. (His first money was pushed onto him albeit reluctantly by Solidad, he then got famous, grew in confidence, and starting making money himself. Might be OC. But I don't think so, I think it would make sense with his character actually. He's a lot more complicated than people ever put into writing. I mean, he cried when he lost his first contest, does that sound like the Drew we know? But hey, who's complaining? I can already hear all the girls sigh. *Poor Drew!* *He's so misunderstood!" :P

Sorry if I got any pokemon terms wrong or misspelled or whatever. Please take two seconds to review. Tell me if you liked or hated it. Thanks!