NOTE TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE READ ANGEL IN THE MACHINE: Do not write to tell me Old Wounds is not as good/funny/long as my first fic. I already know. Old Wounds is something I write when I have no idea what to do with Angel In the Machine, and it helps me get past my blocks. Read it solely for your own interest, or if you're curious to see how writing one fic can help you generate ideas for another fic. If you only read Angel In the Machine for the penis jokes, Old Wounds will not appeal to you.

So I asked myself: "HollowMan, when your first fic is seventy thousand words long and isn't even half done, what the hell do you write second? What could you write that won't be roundly panned for not being as good/long/funny as the first fic?" Then I realized that I was being a prat, and decided to go ahead and write whatever the hell I felt like.

For those of you who don't know, my first fic was a harem fic that involved aura. I informed my readers at the time that I was aware it wasn't particularly original (Readers nod). For my second fic, however, I've decided to take things in a whole new direction! (Readers gasp with delight.)

It's a harem fic that involves aura!

(Readers pelt the HollowMan with rotten fruit.)

Wait! Stop! There's an original new twist!

(Readers pause.)

It's also an "Ash gets betrayed" fic!

(Readers switch to rocks).

Fine, be that way. Just give it a try. If you read the first few chapters and don't like it, then leave me a cheery "fuck you" in the comments and be about your business. I'll have a new chapter of Angel in the Machine up one of these years.

DISCLAIMER: All characters, plot lines, and concepts within the Pokemon universe are the intellectual property of their respective owners, licensers and distributers. The author of this fanfiction makes no claim to own any part of the Pokemon franchise and generates no income thereby. This fanfiction is free of charge, and if you have paid for it then you are a victim of fraud.

Also, it gets raunchy near the end of chapter three. If you don't like that sort of stuff, don't read it.


Old Wounds

1-Return To Sender

"They say". Can we think about that phrase for a bit? It can mean a lot of things in a lot of contexts. It's just two words: a personal pronoun followed by a verb. It's also a Scars on Broadway song. But the way I mean it is as a preface to some truly stupid human logic. Take the phrase 'they say' and then state your own opinion and bam! Instantly you look like a populist debater and not the prick that you are. I can tell you- from my own personal experience and not some made up experts- that 'they' aren't always right.

They say that I'm a murderer. I say different. At least, I used to.

Not that my hands are clean. No, I'd hurt people before. Mostly it was accidental, but I was willing to fight when I got backed into a corner. I'd had a taste of that with my run-ins with Jessie and James, but it wasn't until I met Hunter J that I realized how far I could be pushed before snapping. I was willing to play the hero, the white knight... right up until she broke the rules by trying to kill my friends. I still believed in justice then, but after she pulled that trick any restrictions I'd placed on my actions got tossed out the window. It had all worked out in the end- my friends were fine, my pokemon were fine, and Hunter J got nothing but the dark embrace of a cold, watery grave. But I hadn't murdered her; I wouldn't have even if I could have. She'd got what she'd deserved and I definitely didn't mourn her, but I was a different person then and I would have been more likely to try and save her than finish her off. No, I wasn't a murderer. Not until the people who condemned me turned me into one.

They say. They say a lot of things.

They say that tragedy chases the illusion of serenity, and this may or may not be true. No one would have considered the Celadon shopping center to be serene at the best of times, and it certainly wasn't on the day I visited it with my mother to buy new clothes for my next journey. I was fourteen then, fresh back from Sinnoh and keen to take on Unova. I'd wanted to leave almost immediately, but mom had balked, guilting me into staying for at least a month. Near the end of that time she had taken me out to Celadon city, home of Kanto's most famous retail center, in order to purchase supplies. We hadn't really had the money for such things- I usually picked up second hand goods in Viridian- but mom insisted that one of the top four trainers in Sinnoh couldn't go around with anything but the best. I would curse her decision later, but when I have time to actually think about it I guess it's for the best. If the decision to go to Celadon had to be the last act of her life, at least it was one that showed me she loved me.

I didn't have the best view of the incident, but I managed to piece it together afterwards from the witnesses. Imagine, if you would, the Celadon center. A tall, multi-storied building rich with windows and decorations. People streaming in and out of the doors. Passersby on the sidewalks, gaily going about their business. Things weren't actually picture perfect of course, but they would seem that way later in contrast to the horror that was about to happen.

That was happening... now.

Nothing at first except for a clicking sound and a 'whumpf' noise. Then suddenly everything happens at once. A flash of white light comes from the windows on the southern side of the building, and they shatter, raining hot glass on the panicking crowd outside the building. The windows on the north side- the side that takes the brunt of the ensuing explosion- don't shatter. They don't have time. They simply melt, and hot droplets of glass are then blown out of their frames by the deafening roar of the blast. The people outside run and scream. Many of them are hurt, some are dead. All will eventually stop panicking and turn to the flaming husk of the building, frozen by the realization that the people inside are dying in one of the most horrific ways imaginable. Later it would be known that the original blast was on the second floor. Later it would be known that the original incident killed less than a tenth of the victims, and that the others succumbed to the flames or the smoke.

It was only later they would whisper that I had murdered over three hundred people.

But for now, no one said anything. They just gathered on the street and watched the building burn in an uncanny silence. No one spoke, which was for the best. It would have been hard to hear them over the sounds of sirens and the screaming of the dying anyway.


"It... isn't going well." The defence lawyer sighed.

I ignored him. He was a good man, in his own way- the fact he was even willing to defend me in court was proof enough of that- but it was obvious that this case was nothing more than work to him. He cared about law, not justice. The two of us were sitting in his office, reviewing the preliminary judiciary findings before the trial began. It was a largish room, filled with the trappings of a man of his vocation- the fountain pen, the fake plant, the rows of leather bound books. I wondered briefly if he'd ever read any of them. He probably hadn't, but I decided not to hold it against him. They were, like everything in his life, only there to project an image.

"Mr. Ketchum?"

His life was illusory. Unreal. Just like mine had become.

"Mr. Ketchum, is there something on your mind?"

"The Trial."

"What?"

"Kafka's The Trial. On your bookshelf. Is that supposed to be funny?"

He gave me an odd look, which I guess was understandable. My mind had been... freewheeling for the last few days, making every attempt to focus on anything but what had happened. For a long time they wondered if I was even going to be able to stand trial- the burn wounds and lacerations I'd received in the initial blast had been complicated by the fall I took when the floor gave out- but I was young. I was strong. I'd healed, although it might have been easier on everyone concerned if I'd just died. That way I wouldn't have to see the coverage of the incident on the TV. The families of the dead. The calls for my execution.

The lies.

Charizard. They said it had been Charizard. That I'd been showing off my mighty orange fire lizard, that I'd lost control. Lies. Charizard was a fighter, and I'll admit he was belligerent to the core, but he would never do that. Not to innocent people, and definitely not to children. But his conscience was besides the point- he hadn't been out of his pokeball since mom and I left from Pallet. I'd never taken him out of the damn ball, much less used him to commit a massacre. But... but there were witnesses. People who said they'd seen what I knew was impossible. There weren't many of them, true, as there weren't many survivors period. But at least a dozen of the people pulled out of the wreckage of the center said that it had been me.

I wondered if I should be mad. No, that isn't true- I knew I should be mad. Mad that they would lie, angered by their refusal to accept my account of things. But to be honest, I didn't feel much of anything anymore. My mother was dead. Gone. What did what everyone else believed matter in the face of that? She would still be just as dead if they hanged me as if they didn't.

Still, that fact didn't stop the news from smearing my reputation twenty-four seven. Over the course of the months I had been 'detained' by the league, they must have dragged every person I'd ever met on my journey out onto the screen. Champions, frontier brains, rivals, gym leaders... people who had been a huge part of my life were brought out one by one to denounce me.

"...he was always too impatient..."

"...not the kind of boy fit to be handling such a dangerous creature..."

"...pathetic. He was a terrible person..."

"...always knew he'd kill someone someday..."

Some people were more willing to hate me than others. Paul had bashed me for nearly an hour on national television, whereas Anabel hemmed and hawed for most of her interview before admitting that I was "never the most cautious of boys". Some of those who gave statements looked as if they didn't like what they were saying... but they still said it. They were an uncomfortably small minority anyway.

But still, there were some that came to my defence, right? Some who spoke up, some who reminded everyone how many times I'd saved the goddamned world in the past, right? After four years of being a hero, a person who had sacrificed everything for his friends, surely they came to me in my hour of need?

Ha. Too fucking right they came to me.

"Why, Ash? Why did you have to be so impatient?"

"People are dead because of you!"

"How could you do this to us? To yourself? To your mother? We all trusted you!"

"I wish I'd never met you!"

"Bastard! Insensitive bastard!" Sobs, weeping. "Why? For God's sakes, how could you?"

They hadn't believed me. Not one. Some of them refused to even hear me out. I winced, shook myself slightly, and tried to focus on whatever the lawyer was saying.

"Sorry, I'm tired. What did you say?"

"I said that it wasn't going well. It looks like I can get it down to manslaughter instead of murder, but over three-hundred counts of manslaughter is going to land you some serious time. We're talking about multiple life sentences if it comes to a conviction."

"So they've ruled out execution have they?"

It was his turn to wince. Kanto, alone amongst the four regions, still had the death penalty. It wasn't used very often, but it was still possible... and it definitely wouldn't look good for my lawyer to lose a client to it.

"You're fourteen Mr. Ketchum. I doubt they would kill you, even over this. But... I can't pretend it isn't possible. They sure as hell aren't going to try you as a minor, not with three hundred dead. The easiest sentence I can promise you with any certainty is a maximum security facility for the rest of your life. Regardless of what you're actually like, the region as a whole sees you as a clear and present danger to society. If they aren't allowed to kill you, they will try to put you away for good... unless we cut a deal."

I gazed at him balefully. What the hell kind of deal could we cut? The prosecution was going to destroy us... and even if by some miracle I was acquitted, an angry populace would tear me limb from limb the second the police took their eyes off me. My lawyer gazed back at me levelly.

"Plead negligence."

"No."

"Mr. Ketchum-"

"I didn't do anything. I won't pretend I did. Not even to get the sentence reduced."

"Sticking with the innocent act to the finish, hmm? You've got guts kid, but it isn't going to matter."

"It isn't an act."

He sighed, weary. "Fine. If you won't plead guilty, there is one other option."

"I'm listening."

"The prosecution doesn't want this trial to go on any longer than we do. They realize that this trial is going to take months, and it's going to be a goddamned zoo. Tabloids, police, angry families... no fun for anyone. Expensive, embarrassing to the league, painful for the survivors..."

"I get it. So?"

"I've been speaking with league officials, and with the lawyers on the other side. They're prepared to accept exile."

"Exile?"

"We fly you somewhere, drop you off, and forget you ever existed. Your records get stripped and your name is deleted from all league files. If you ever set foot in the four regions again, we shoot you on sight. In effect, you become a non-person... you simply never were. It resolves quite a few problems actually- the government doesn't have to kill or imprison a fourteen year old boy, the families of the victims get spared a messy trial and you don't have to plead innocent or guilty. Everybody wins."

Yeah, everybody wins... except for the minor fact that there wasn't a hell of lot of civilization outside of the four regions. The term "The four regions" was a misnomer in itself, seeing as how it included not only the four original regions but also Unova, Orre, and the others. Together they formed an extremely loose alliance with common trade laws and pokemon league guidelines, but were still considered independent nations. Outside of the four regions... well, it depended on how far you went. I'd heard there were some decently sized fringe colonies, but most areas outside of league controlled territory were wild and dangerous. Some of the more feral of wild pokemon gathered there, and a lot of it was unexplored and uninhabited. Trying to make a living outside of the four regions would be tough to say the least.

But... maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just accept. I was numb now, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I was going to start feeling again real soon. I'd rather not be sitting in a jail cell unable to do anything about that when it happened. Surviving would be difficult, but no one said I had to survive. In fact, I don't think I wanted to.

"Fine." I grunted. "Exile."

"I don't know where they'll send you." He warned.

"I don't care where. As long as it isn't here."


I had never flown on a helicopter before, although the feeling was hauntingly familiar. The slight swaying motions and the constant juddering whine of the engine reminded me almost perfectly of riding one of Team Rocket's mechas. The whole trip had been less eventful than I had imagined, given the circumstances. Neither the prosecution nor the government seemed to have any problems sending me to some godforsaken rock to die, and the request for exile was approved remarkably quickly for the legal system. There were some mutterings from the general population that it wasn't a harsh enough punishment, but overall everyone seemed relieved that I was leaving and they could get some closure.

When the time had come, I was taken from my cell and placed aboard one of Kanto's battle cruisers which had been due to make a patrol sweep outside of territorial waters anyway. It had taken six weeks from the time we set sail until the time we cleared the last of the recon buoys that marked interregional waters, and from that point on we dropped out of radio contact with the mainland and were officially on our own. I didn't see this of course- to me, the trip consisted of nothing but a jail cabin instead of a jail cell- but the guard who brought me food kept me at least reasonably well informed. I guess he figured he didn't have much to lose by being nice.

The captain was far more concerned with patrol duties than with me, but when he judged us far enough away from the four regions I was hustled aboard a helicopter and flown inland.

"You should be honoured" muttered a guard as I was shoved roughly into the holding bay. "The captain deemed you dangerous enough to put half the world between you and us."

Whether I was truly half the world away or not was anybody's guess. I can say with certainty that I had no idea where I was though. The glimpses I could get of the land we flew over suggested an area of mist and dark vegetation- jungle maybe. I hoped so. Committing suicide on alien soil because I'd been accused of crimes I didn't commit was bad enough, I didn't want to be cold while doing it.

My attention was suddenly diverted from the vista below me by a prickling at the back of my neck. I turned in the direction of the odd sensation, and realized that Lance had been staring at me, trying to derive something out of my reactions. I had been surprised by the decision to send the captain of Kanto's guard forces and member of its elite four to guard me. I wasn't anymore. The government wanted this done and over with, and could allow no fuckups to occur. They wanted me gone, unable to make problems.

I met Lance's eyes, and they stared back at me levelly. I had met him a few times before the incident, and although we were never really close, he had struck me as a fair man. I knew that the crimes I was accused of must have galled him, but if he had an opinion on my situation or the veracity of the charges against me, he had kept it to himself. The entirety of my interaction with him on this trip had consisted of me asking what the time was, and him giving a muttered reply. But every so often I would catch him staring with narrowed eyes, as if he were searching for any hint of the monster the press claimed I was. I didn't know if he had found it in me, but... well, Lance was Lance. He was a powerful trainer himself, and while I wasn't even close to his league, he understood the dangers that every trainer faced. He knew my reputation, and he knew the little quirks that a dragon-like pokemon such as Charizard was likely to have.

Maybe... just maybe he believed me? Not enough to be sure- no, whatever else Lance was he was honest. If he were sure I was innocent then he would never be party to my exile. But he might be just unsure enough to wonder.

I felt no joy at the thought- didn't allow myself to feel any joy. It still didn't matter. I was still an exile, my friends had still abandoned me, and my mother was still just as dead. But the idea that not everyone was totally sure of my guilt was an incredibly comforting one nonetheless. If Lance doubted the official version of events- and it was becoming increasingly clear that he might- then there may have been others. Others who would doubt, others who would one day seek the truth of what had transpired. That thought gave me absolutely zero happiness, but it did bring with it a measure of peace.

The chopper slowed in its forward movement and started to hover. Apparently we were going to land. I was amazed that they had found anywhere to set down in this dense wilderness, but the pilot must have managed to locate marginal clearance because we descended slowly and eventually came to a jerky landing. Across from me Lance frowned and shifted his eyes to the pilot.

"What are we doing? I thought we were supposed to at least put him in some sort of settlement."

"No settlements out here Sir! None for hundreds of miles, and those aren't what I'd call stranger friendly."

"Then why here?"

"I just flew where I got told to fly Sir."

"Who ordered-"

"Forget it." I told him. Lance shifted his glare from the pilot to me.

"This is pure wilderness inmate Ketchum. You will not survive here. Even if we'd let you keep your pokemon you wouldn't survive."

"I didn't come here to survive." I tell him, the calmness in my tone surprising even me. "We both know I was sent here because it creates less paperwork than just killing me outright. Just as we both know this is a death sentence, even if you want to call it an exile. I don't give a shit where I die, I just want to get it over with before I have to start thinking again."

Lance paused for a moment, before nodding. "Fine. Here is your survival gear inmate Ketchum, provided to you as dictated by the conditions of your exile."

I shouldered the pack he handed me and resisted the urge to laugh bitterly in his face. A litre of clean water and a basic portable shelter did not constitute "survival gear". Not out here. It would be hell on earth trying to get to the nearest pocket of civilization on that alone, and I was mildly grateful for the fact that I didn't even intend to try.

"Ashura Ketchum" said Lance in his most officious tone "you have been accused and convicted of capital crimes against the sovereign region of Kanto, as well as against individual citizens who are governed and protected by that state. In lieu of trial or plea, you have accepted the punishment of exile. You will never again physically enter any territory controlled by the interregional organization known as the four regions, nor will you ever conspire against them from areas outside of that territory. In return for your acceptance of these terms, the government of Kanto gives you free reign to do as you will outside of the four regions. Your insistence of innocence will also be recorded and retained in your case file. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." I state, almost succeeding in keeping the bitterness out of my tone.

"Then the state of Kanto decrees justice done. If you live then live well, and should you die we commend your soul to any god who will take it."

I grunt, stand up, and move to the door. One of the guards opens it for me. I jump out of the heli, and take my first good look around what is supposed to be my new home. It isn't worth a second look- hell, it wasn't even worth the first look. I won't waste time describing it but "a tangled, dark, dangerous ball of mud and weeds" comes close enough. The dense underbrush is no doubt crawling with half rabid pokemon, but I dismiss that fact as irrelevant. There are dangerous creatures here, but they aren't going to have time to be a serious problem for me. I turn from the chopper and make to head for the woods, but a call from behind stops me.

"Ash! Wait!"

I turn, irritated by Lance's insistence in dragging this out.

"I told you I don't care where they put me!" I snap, my anger rising above my numbness for the first time in a while. I'd better make this fast- I can feel the emotions I've been suppressing welling up, getting ready to overwhelm me.

"That isn't it." He shakes his head. "I know what you're going to do. Hell, anyone could tell just by looking at you. It's doable, but it isn't as easy as you think without the proper tools. Here. You don't want to mess up and do it half way."

From inside his coat, Lance pulled a gun. It was a wicked looking instrument, dark black and bigger than any I had ever seen. But it made sense I guess- Lance was a dragon trainer. The gun had to be a .50 cal but even it would only tickle something like a Salamence or a Garchomp. Lance removed most of the bullets from the clip, leaving only one in the gun. He then handed it to me.

"Flip the safety off, cock the hammer and pull the trigger. Your best bet is through the eye- shots to the side of the head tend to bounce."

I nodded wearily. "Thank you."

He nods back, says something to the pilot, and grabs onto the safety handle as the helicopter takes off again. I watched it go, then turned around and made my way into the woods.


Having your last thoughts be about a yellow rodent was an odd turn of events, but as I sat in a cave and watched the rain, idly flicking the safety of the gun that would kill me, I couldn't help but wonder what Pikachu was doing at this moment. Wondered if he was sad that I was gone, or whether he even knew what was happening. I hadn't been allowed to see him or any of my other pokemon since this whole thing had started, and I didn't know if anyone had even told him what was going on.

But the real question, the question that kept bugging me even as I tried to put all my regrets to bed, was would he try to find me? His chances of success were bad. There was a lot of ground between us, and I'd been taken by ship so he wouldn't even have a scent trail to go by.

Still...

Pikachu was loyal. I had thought my friends were too... but I knew deep down that Pikachu had shown me the kind of loyalty that surpasses friendship. Whatever genetics said, we were family. He would miss me, and he would try to find me. I just hoped for his sake that he didn't try for long. He was a good pokemon, and he deserved better than to spend the rest of his life looking for someone who didn't exist anymore.

And that was the just of things wasn't it? Everything that had made Ash Ketchum into Ash Ketchum- his dreams, his family, his friends- were either gone or so ruined as to make no difference. I was... nothing. I had no hope for the future, and even if I did I had no one to share it with. Ash Ketchum, for all his faults, had been a pretty decent guy. I doubt anything I could become now could match up to him. Which was the reason I had chosen exile in the first place, the reason I had crawled into this cave near the drop zone to avoid getting rain water on the gun Lance had given me. The reason I was now running through a list of final thoughts before I finally ended this.

Huh. Can't think of anything else.

I pulled the hammer back on the gun and listened to its deadly "click!" as the round in the clip snapped into position. In a single smooth motion I brought the barrel up to side of my head. Lance may have thought that the eye was a good choice, and he was right, but Lance was too used to dragon sized problems. The gun was a fifty cal, even if it bounced it would still take my head off. I closed my eyes, tensed the muscles in my arm and ordered my finger to squeeze-

And stopped. I'd heard something. Something that didn't belong.

I slowly opened one eye and then the other, glancing towards the back of the cave where I'd heard the noise coming from. It hadn't been a loud noise, more like a harsh whisper that had been just on the edge of my hearing.

"Hello?" I asked, stepping towards the noise. "Is someone there?"

There came another noise, but this wasn't speech. No, it was laughter, high pitched and insane, apparently coming from all around me. I must have stood there frozen for nearly a minute until I realized what exactly had surprised me so badly. This noise, this laughter, it wasn't coming from the back of the cave. It was coming from inside my own head. I was in total shock, or else I wouldn't have done what I did next. I stepped forward, leaving the illumination of the cave mouth and fully into shadow. I stepped into darkness.

It was a darkness I wouldn't leave for a very long time.


No, the thing in the cave wasn't Kaelus. Good guess, but he isn't showing up in this fic. I don't think I'm even going to get into what it was, just know that Ash hit a patch of bad aura at a vulnerable time and it made him go batshit crazy. Probably saved his life though. For those of you who don't know, "Return to Sender" is a euphemism for killing yourself (PSA- Don't kill yourself.)