Stand In The Rain, a pokémon fanfic

One of my favorite songs by the band Superchick is 'Stand In The Rain.' There is a wonderful message there, one that inspires me. The title made its way onto my list of ideas.

I was trying to find a new story to add to the annals of the City, and ideas began, shall we say, sparking.

STAND IN THE RAIN

Once upon a time… Naw, that's too cliché. This is the story… Nope, that won't work.

What could I do? I seem to have run out of beginnings. Perhaps… it is time to pull a different tactic. Let's pull back the curtain on a rainy day. This day, sometime in May, was a turning point in our protagonist.

Here we go.

The City was being pounded by a ferocious monsoon. The rain was lashing out at anything and any Pokemon foolish enough to be in the streets. When it began, umbrellas were raised. Soon, though, the umbrellas were worthless.

Every Pokemon had sought shelter in the nearest building. All, that is, but one.

In the middle of Main Street, a Pikachu sat. Cold, wet, and miserable, the Pikachu was unaware of the thunder and lightning clanging around him. The Pikachu's fur was plastered to its skin, its head was lowered, and, if you listened carefully, you would hear crying.

On the north side of the street, a Lucario looked through a window at the Pikachu. His fur was dripping, evidence of an attempt to bring the Pikachu into the warmth.

"He's going to stay out there all night," the Lucario said sadly, turning to an Ampharos. "Alex… what happened?"

Alex shook his head. "I don't know, Bill."

As Bill and Alex continued to discuss him, the Pikachu raised his head and looked at the sky. His eyes were narrowed against the unforgiving rain. He pushed himself to his paws, and said three words…

"Ammon! Wait up!"

A Pikachu looked around frantically for the location of the voice. He was too late, though, to stop a Maractus from bowling him over.

"Ow!" Ammon yelled. "Watch where you're jumping, Daisy! I got a spine in my nose…"

Daisy extricated herself from Ammon, who began pulling at his nose. "Sorry about that, Ammon," Daisy murmured. "I didn't mean to stick you."

With a pained yelp, Ammon flew backwards over his heels. He landed flat on his back, panting. In his right paw was a long spine.

"Whew… It's okay, Daisy," Ammon said, getting to his feet. "I shouldn't have yelled. Forgive me?"

Daisy squealed and hugged Ammon. "I take that's a 'yes,' then." Daisy continued to squeal before gasping. She pulled away from him.

"Ammon, Dean Gabriel has called a staff-wide meeting! He wants to announce something important!" Daisy exclaimed. She grabbed Ammon's paw and began jumping up and down. "I bet it's for Teacher of the Year! I bet it's for you! Come on!" she yelled, running off. Ammon was yanked off of his feet as Daisy sped around the students of the University, heading for the west wing.

"And so," a Slowking droned, "we have decided to cut funding for the arts department due to a decreased interest in the department. That will include the drama, studio, painting, drawing, sketching, and architecture sub-departments. This will allow us to focus on the science and mathematics departments."

Ammon rolled his eyes. "This was the important announcement?" he whispered to Daisy. "I've heard more important announcements from pond mold."

"Well, you're not the one getting a funding cut!" Daisy whispered back. "Do you know how upset Finn's going to be? I can tell you right now that he's going to get up and complain about 'the supposed superiority of the serious over the artistic.'"

A wrinkled Swampert got to his feet. Dean Gabriel nodded slowly to the Swampert. "Finn, do you have something to add?"

"I do," Finn said. His voice was deep and echoing from a lifetime in theater. "I will not stand for this, Dean Gabriel. Far too often, the supposed superiority of the serious over the artistic has ruled the University. I recognize that the sciences have built our cities. But do you realize that the arts have given us a culture, an identity? Even the forest Pokemon have sciences. The only thing that separates us from them is our culture. Take away our arts, and we become nothing more than savages."

Daisy shot Ammon a look that spoke volumes. Ammon, though, was not paying attention.

Something inside had been struck by Finn's words. A small seed of an idea began to sprout, but Ammon could not understand it quite yet.

Meanwhile, Dean Gabriel had sighed and explained that there were many differences between the forest Pokemon and the Pokemon of the City. He had asked Finn to 'just go along with it,' and had dismissed the meeting.

"And so," Ammon said, holding one wire in each paw, "by touching the wires together we complete the circuit. This forms the basis of electric currents. Without a complete circuit, the electricity could not move. Yes?" he asked, pointing to a Magmar in the back.

"Does a circuit have to be only made of wire?"

"That's an excellent question," Ammon answered. He took the two wires, twisted two ends together, and put his paw in between the other two ends so that the wires were touching his paw. Sparks began shooting out of the connection between Ammon's paw and the wires. "As you can see, it does not have to be wire. There are many substances that can carry a current and be part of a circuit."

"What about water?" a Marill asked.

Ammon glanced at the clock on the wall. "Water is a good conductor, but it is not the best for creating currents. We will, however, be studying water and currents in detail later on. For now, it is time to pack your bags and go to the next class." As the students began shoving books in bags and pencils in small pockets, Ammon glanced at his lesson book. "Don't forget to read pages two through nine for tomorrow, paying special attention to Teschnikova's theory of currents!" he called as the students began leaving the room.

When the last student had left, Ammon sat down heavily in his polished wooden desk chair. He sighed, looking over the familiar equipment. Something had become… almost dull about the whole affair. Humdrum, and a little melancholy. He wasn't sure what had happened.

There was a knock at his classroom door. He looked up to see a Mienshao standing in the doorway. "What is it, Rich?"

The Mienshao walked into the room, examining the desktop. "Lesson on currents?"

"Yep. What did you have today?"

Rich grimaced. "Stranglevines. Nasty little things. One almost got me today while that Mankey was making smart remarks."

Ammon gave a sympathetic smile. "Guy? I've banned him from my classroom. He tried to fry Jacob with an alternator."

Rich's eyes widened. "That's harsh, Am. 'Course," he reflected, "I'm almost to that point as well. Yesterday he tried to sneak off with some of the nightshade. Not sure why, and I'm pretty sure that I don't want to know." Ammon shook his head, sighing. He looked over his desk again.

"Rich?"

The Mienshao grunted.

"Do things seem… run of the mill? Humdrum?"

Rich's head snapped up to stare at Ammon. "How did you know?"

Ammon chuckled, picking up a piece of wire. "That's how I feel. Tomorrow, I'm teaching Teschnikova's theory of current, and I'm not bouncing off of the walls."

"But that's your favorite lesson! …I know what you mean. Tomorrow I have the berry breeding lesson, and that's my favorite."

"What are we missing, Rich?" Ammon asked.

Rich shrugged. He closed his eyes in thought as Daisy entered the classroom.

"When did I become the social hub of the University?" Ammon murmured.

Daisy narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "What are you talking about, Ammon?" she asked. "I'm not here for social hour."

Ammon shot a glance at Daisy. "It was an expression, Daisy. What's up?"

"They're cutting my class."

"Dean Gabriel, what is the meaning of this?" Ammon exclaimed. He was standing in front of the dean's large, immaculate desk. The dean was signing a piece of paper.

"The meaning of what, Ammon?" Dean Gabriel droned. "I am very busy, so please make this quick."

Ammon clenched his paws and slowly unclenched them, breathing slowly and deliberately. "The expressive theater class was canceled, sir," he said through gritted teeth. "That was Daisy's class."

Dean Gabriel finally looked up at Ammon. "You must understand this, Ammon. The arts department is going to be cut from the University. It is going to be cut completely. I do not understand why you are complaining. After all, your department is receiving more funding."

That was when Ammon realized why things felt so odd. "Sir, you can't cut the arts department completely. That will put some of our oldest teachers out of a job, including Finn. Some of them have been around longer than you have," he said.

Dean Gabriel stood. "Ammon, I suggest you drop this line of questioning. If you do not, I fear we may be losing our electrics teacher."

Ammon's teeth ground. "Yes sir," he growled, spinning and marching out of the dean's office.

"He threatened your job?!" Rich exploded. "That's… illegal!"

Ammon gave a one-sided shrug. "It may be illegal, but that's what happened."

"And he's planning on destroying the entire arts department? That's… horrific." Rich's voice fell to a whisper. "What about Finn? What about… Daisy?"

"I don't know, Rich!" Ammon shouted, turning on the Mienshao. "I just don't know! Suddenly, it seems like my whole world is falling apart! My job is old hat, some of my best friends are losing their jobs, and there's not a thing I can do about it!"

Rich shrank back slightly and Ammon's face fell. "Sorry about that, Rich. I don't mean to lose my temper. I'm just…" Ammon sighed. "I have no ideas. I want to do something for Finn and Daisy, but I have no idea what to do."

"I understand," Rich replied. "And don't worry about it. I probably would have blown up even worse than you did."

Ammon walked slowly through the University, Rich at his side. They were quiet, taking some small comfort in the other's presence and empathy. The south wing of the University, home to the arts department, was silent. No students were milling about, quoting Sandspeare at each other. No teachers were reciting dramatic soliloquies on top of tables. There were only eddies of air, speaking to the speed of the cuts.

Then a strong voice cut through the silence. "Hark, fair Juliet, let down thy rope! I hath brought thee an ancient talisman of beauty and power… No, that's not right." There was the sound of scribbling. "Hark, fair Juliet, descend from thy balcony! I hath brought thee flowers from the southern moonfields, to enhance the ethereal beauty that is thine. Let thyself descend out of the demands of thy life, and run with me to fairer glens!"

Ammon and Rich entered the room the voice was coming from. Finn was standing at his desk, reading from a heavily-marked paper. The Swampert seemed surrounded by sunbeams, as though he were the dashing Romeo from Sandspeare's classic.

Rich, breathing in a bit of dust, sneezed suddenly, and the atmosphere was broken. Finn looked around in confusion. "Where am I?" he asked, voice hushed.

"You're at the University still, Finn," Ammon replied, smiling.

Finn's eyes closed momentarily. "That is right," he said sadly. "The site of my own tragedy. Alas, I will never write it in this halls of stone."

"Finn, you're still stuck in the play," Rich remarked. "You're still using older language."

"Ah…" Finn breathed. He shook his head and gave a wry smile. "I'm sorry about that, my friends. Romeo and Juliet seemed to be apropos for this moment."

"Feel like your world is falling apart?"

Finn chuckled. "Far more than that, Ammon. But! The show must go on, correct? Perhaps I will begin an acting troupe. That would be an interesting endeavor…" His smile softened. "Though I will miss the University. Many have come through these doors, ones that I greatly respect."

At those words, Finn fell silent. Ammon and Rich felt no need to break the companionable silence.

As the silence lengthened, Ammon's mind began to race. The seed of an idea began to sprout and blossom. He turned the idea over in his head, and turned it over again. "Could it work?" he whispered to himself. Finn and Rich started at Ammon's voice. Both gave him a curious look.

"It could… possibly," Ammon continued. "The problem would be getting the needed help… It's worth a shot." He stopped talking.

Finn glanced at Rich, who shrugged helplessly. "I can't tell what he's talking about," Rich admitted. "Sometimes I can."

"What if… what if we were to convince Dean Gabriel otherwise?" Ammon asked out loud. Rich and Finn exchanged a glance.

"Are you talking to us?" Finn questioned.

"I am… what if we could convince Dean Gabriel that the arts department is necessary?" Ammon asked again, eagerly.

"I don't know what we could do," Rich said. "I suppose we could put on a production, but that wouldn't help... Would it?"

Ammon pointed at Rich. "Exactly, Rich. That is what we're going to do."

"I thought I made myself quite clear," Dean Gabriel said coldly. "What made you come back, Ammon?"

Dragging a chair over, Ammon sat down. "I have a proposition for you, Dean Gabriel. You think that the arts department is suffering from decreased interest, correct? What if I could prove that it is not suffering? Would you stop the cuts?"

Dean Gabriel wrinkled his forehead in thought. He was silent for a long while, tapping his desk in a steady rhythm. "Very well," he said at last. "If you can prove that I am wrong, I will stop the arts department from being dismissed."

Ammon jumped to his feet. "Thank you, Dean Gabriel! I promise you that you will not regret this!"

The wing containing the arts department was filled with students and teachers. Groups had been formed as lines were rehearsed. Teachers oversaw the rehearsals.

Meanwhile, in the University Theater, Daisy was directing the construction of the set while Ammon wired the electrical systems for the set. Rich was taking notes as Finn moved around the stage, calling out blocking and movements.

After the dean's approval, Ammon had called in the other department teachers. Together they had brainstormed and created a script. Once that had been ironed out, the teachers all separated and brought on students to work with them. Some of the students had taken it upon themselves to create flyers and pass them out around the City. The atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation for The River Flows E'er Onward. It was about the Keldeo that, as legend said, ran through the world when it rained.

Ammon found himself humming as he soldered wires into place. He only had a few more left when Bill and Alex showed up in the Theater.

"Hey, Ammon! Come on down from there, will you? We need some direction on the music!" Bill called up.

"Coming!" Ammon scrambled down from his ladder and, in his haste, forgot to turn off the soldering iron.

Estelle entered the Theater behind Bill and Alex. "Ammon, where is Wilma? She asked for help with the costumes."

"Down the hall, third door on the right," Ammon told her. She nodded and left. Ammon turned to Bill and Alex. "The one you'll want is Brooke. She's in charge of the composition and orchestra arrangements."

Bill poked Alex in the side. "I told you so, Alex! But did you listen?"

"Hey!" Alex exclaimed indignantly. "You told me no such- is something burning?" He sniffed. "Something's burning. Is something supposed to be burning?"

Ammon's eyes grew wide. "Oh no…" he moaned. Racing to his ladder, he looked up and yelped. A fire had started and was growing at a rapid pace.

"FIRE!" Bill bellowed. "FIRE!"

The cry was taken up by others, and soon the teachers and students had grabbed water buckets. The fire was spreading to Daisy's sets.

"Oh no…" Ammon whispered. He walked back slowly, tripped over his tail, and jumped up and raced out.

Alex pulled on Bill's arm and gestured after Ammon.

Every Pokemon had sought shelter in the nearest building. All, that is, but one.

In the middle of Main Street, Ammon sat. Cold, wet, and miserable, Ammon was unaware of the thunder and lightning clanging around him. His fur was plastered to his skin, his head was lowered, and, if you listened carefully, you would hear crying.

On the north side of the street, Bill looked through the window of the Café Na Rigara at Ammon. Bill's fur was dripping, evidence of an attempt to bring Ammon into the warmth.

"He's going to stay out there all night," Bill said sadly, turning to Alex. "Alex… what happened?"

Alex shook his head. "I don't know, Bill."

Estelle raced in through the door and shut it quickly. She was wet from the rain. "Ammon left his soldering iron on," she explained. "We managed to put out the fire, but the set is completely ruined." Estelle grimaced slightly. "Most of the teachers are wondering if that fire was a sign."

"It can't have been," Bill countered. "That was an accident!"

She shrugged. "That won't really stop the thoughts, Bill."

Alex glanced out the window. "What do you think is going through his head right now?"

"I don't know," Bill sighed, turning to the bar counter. Alex followed Bill, and Estelle joined them.

She sniffed. "I hope he's okay…"

I should have known this would happen…

Dean Gabriel was right…

I wish I could turn back time and try again. I've let everyone down. The dean will never allow the arts department to stay…

Ammon buried his face in his paws. "What will happen now?"

"What do you want to have happen now?" a male voice asked.

"I don't know…" Ammon trailed off.

A hard hoof nudged him gently in the side. "Then nothing's going to get done. You know that, right?"

Ammon nodded miserably.

"Do you want something to change?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Ammon questioned, still not looking up. There was a small chuckle.

"Dash the Keldeo, at your humble service. I run with the water and it brought me here." Dash chuckled again. "I'm glad it did. I got to meet someone who needs my help!"

"Your help? Why?"

There was a sound of splashing, as though something heavy had quickly rested in the rainwater. "I'm the only one out here right now. That's why. So, do you want something to change?"

Ammon nodded, then shook his head. "I don't know. If I try to change what happened, it might just get messed up again."

"It might," Dash agreed. "But then again, it might not. The rains of misfortune may fall on us, but we can still stand and not let it drive us to the ground. We just need to accept that the rain is part of life, and without it, the sunshine wouldn't seem quite so sweet."

Peeking through his paws, Ammon looked at Dash. He was a four-legged, tan-furred Pokemon with a red mane and blue head and back. His head was back, letting the rain slide down his face and neck. There was a smile of contentment on Dash's face.

"How can you stand the rains?" It was meant as a question about the monsoon, but Dash caught the underlying meaning.

His smile broadened. "I've learned to roll with the waves of life, my friend. I've seen others that let the rains drown them." Dash's eyes clouded slightly with the memory. "It isn't pretty. They… wallow in self-pity, when they could pick themselves up with some effort."

"It's hard, though."

Dash shrugged. "Of course it is. The worthwhile things in life are hard. We just have to square ourselves and work with what stamina we possess."

Ammon nodded slowly. "That makes sense, I guess… How can I pull myself up, though?"

Dash got to his hooves, shaking excess water from his fur. "Grab a thread of strength and yank, and keep yanking on that thread until you're on your feet again. Then just put one paw in front of the other and keep moving." He offered Ammon a hoof, but Ammon shook his head. "Just do it, my good friend. And who knows? Maybe you can inspire others to stand in the rain."

Shaking himself again, Dash stamped at the ground and, nodding to Ammon, raced off down Main Street. Ammon watched him until he disappeared before lowering his head again.

Stand in the rain… Stand…

Ammon raised his head and looked at the sky. His eyes were narrowed against the unforgiving rain. He pushed himself to his paws, and said three words. "I will stand."

When Bill, Alex, and Estelle left the Café Na Rigara, Ammon was no longer in the middle of the street. Shrugging, they made their way to the University.

As they entered the Theater, a wave of sound crashed over them.

"What's going on?" Bill asked a nearby Floatzel.

The Floatzel gestured to the stage, where Ammon was walking and talking to an assembled group of students and teachers.

"Life's rains may pour down on us," Ammon said, stopping at the front of the stage. "But we need to rise up and let them fall. Misfortune may beset us, but without it, the good times would not be so sweet."

"But our sets burned down," Maraschino the Cherrim pointed out. "Are you saying that we should just rebuild them?"

"Exactly! Rebuild them, and make them even better!" Ammon exclaimed. "Daisy, I'm sure that you had a couple of things that you wanted to fix." Daisy smiled in affirmation. "See?"

"Are we still doing the same play?" Cherriken the Cherrim asked.

"Who knows? We simply have to go from where we are now. Dean Gabriel gave us a chance to save the arts department. Let's not squander it by giving up."

Finn got to his feet. "Ammon, of the many speeches I have heard over the years, this is the best by far. You have my full and complete support."

Daisy and Rich stood together. "You have ours as well," Rich said, glancing at Daisy and reddening. Daisy giggled.

One by one, then many by many, the assembled group stood and pledged their support. Ammon smiled.

"Let's get working, then."

A week later, the production was ready. Buzz throughout the City had grown to a fever pitch, and Mayor Winston had declared that on opening night, the shops of the City would close early.

Dean Gabriel was the first to take a seat in the Theater. He looked around the Theater with evident disgust.

From behind the on-stage curtains, Ammon and Daisy watched Dean Gabriel. "He's already decided," Ammon sighed. "It would take a miracle to change his mind."

"Your miracle is on its way," Rich remarked as he was passing by. "We had to set up seven extra rows of folding chairs to accommodate the ticket sales numbers."

Daisy put a hand on Ammon's shoulder. "Don't worry," she said gently. "Even if he doesn't change his mind, we can still stand in the rain. That's what you taught us."

"That's right," Finn agreed. Ammon glanced toward the Swampert. "That's what you taught all of us," Finn continued. "Come on, Ammon. You need to relax. We still have twenty minutes to introduction." Finn led Ammon away from the curtain to a nearby chair.

As Ammon sat, students and teachers walked past him, making sure that the sets, props, and costumes were all in place. Every one that passed took a moment to ask how Ammon was doing.

Twenty minutes later, Ammon stood and pushed through the curtains. The noise from the jammed room was overwhelming. Looking around the room, Ammon spotted Dean Gabriel, who was staring at him with slightly softer eyes.

"May I have your attention, please?" Ammon called out over the noise. The audience fell silent. "Thank you. I would like to welcome you to the opening night of Home For Me. We know that you came to see The River Flows E'er Onward, but the change was necessary." The audience began whispering, but fell silent as Ammon started speaking again. "This will be the final production by the University arts department.

"Old Finn would be greeting you tonight, but he is directing this production from backstage. My name is Ammon, and I am the electrics professor here at the University. We are about ready to begin, but before we do, allow me to give you some advice.

"No matter what happens, no matter what rains and misfortunes fall on you, stand your ground. You can choose to be driven to the ground or accept the rain. Accept the rain. It can offer unforeseen opportunities."

From behind the curtain, two clicks sounded. Ammon smiled. "We are now ready. I hope that you enjoy our production, Home For Me."

Ammon walked off-stage to the right wing. The curtains opened and the production began.

"Zilla… I love you, too."

Jacob was holding Maraschino in his arms. He was gazing adoringly into her eyes.

"But, Yeven," Maraschino said, concern coloring her voice. "My father still doesn't approve of us."

"Zilla, that doesn't matter to me," Jacob replied. "I'm sure that, with time, your father will change his mind."

Ammon was watching the production from the right wing, saying the lines along with Jacob and Maraschino under his breath. He jumped when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Dean Gabriel?! What are you doing back here?"

The Slowking was smiling, something that Ammon had never seen. "What brought about this production, Ammon? It surely wasn't just the promise of reconsideration."

Ammon shrugged. "I… met someone in the rain."

Dean Gabriel nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes. Dash?"

Ammon led Dean Gabriel into a hallway beside the Theater. "How do you know Dash?"

Dean Gabriel chuckled. "I met him once. He told me the same thing he told you. At least, I assume he did. I didn't take his advice, though.

"I began seeking material recompense for something I had perceived to be a personal insult. With time, I forgot, but I was soured. I sought to crush art and the teaching of art. A teacher had told me that I was painting something incorrectly, and I never forgave that teacher.

"Your words tonight brought Dash's advice back to me. Through this whole production, I've been struggling. And finally, something clicked into place. Something I had forgotten." Dean Gabriel put a hand on Ammon's shoulder. "I had forgotten why the sunshine was sweet."

"The rain brightens and sweetens the sunshine," Ammon murmured.

Dean Gabriel nodded. "Yes."

Ammon looked Dean Gabriel in the eye. "What are you really trying to say?"

"You read me far too well, Ammon." Taking his hand off of Ammon's shoulder, Dean Gabriel wiped at his wet eyes. "I will be telling the entire staff, but I want you to know this right now. I will not be cutting the arts department."

Though he had been expecting this, Ammon was speechless. Dean Gabriel laughed. "If you'll excuse me, I have to finish watching this marvelous performance." The Slowking left Ammon, who sat down on the floor as tears rolled down his face.

As the curtain closed on the final act, Dean Gabriel stood and walked onto the stage. Ammon had, with difficulty, made his way backstage again. He looked on as Dean Gabriel clapped.

"That was a magnificent production, if I do say so myself! Please, will you join me in applauding for the arts department?" There was a thunderous response, and it went on for a few minutes. Dean Gabriel allowed it to draw out for a time before raising his arms. The audience fell quiet.

"Before the actors, actresses, crew and teachers come out for a curtain call, I wish to say a few words." A murmur ran through the room.

"Coming into this, I believed that the arts department would still be dissolved. I believed that nothing could change my mind. I was wrong.

"As Ammon began speaking, I found myself remembering times from long ago, when I had heard those same words Ammon spoke. I remembered ignoring them, and the misery my life became.

"That was when I resolved to change. That was my turning point. I tell you this, not to praise myself, but to explain why I am doing what I will be doing.

"I am pleased to announce that the arts department will not be dissolved. There is much that the department can still offer. I am also pleased to announce that the arts department will be receiving an increase in funds." Dean Gabriel looked over his shoulder as the students and teachers came out onstage. "If future productions will be anywhere close to this one, we will surely need it."

Finn came up next to Ammon. "You did it, Ammon," Finn said, a sob in his voice. Alex, Bill, Estelle, Daisy, and Rich joined them.

"No," Ammon replied. "We did it, Finn. We all did it."

And in his heart, Ammon knew that the sunshine was brighter than it ever had been.