Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.

Being a single father isn't easy. There's the diaper changing stage and chasing around a toddler stage and for all of it, there usually isn't any sleep involved. The level of stress is high and it's hard to make ends meet, especially when you're a twenty year old trying to raise a four year old without a mother. How would I know this? Maybe it's because I'm a single father, age twenty, with a four year old that resembles her mother so much it hurts.

I used to be a spiritual person; thinking that God would help me become a Pokemon Master and make my life perfect. I was pretty naïve then; I'm not going to lie. I believed there was something out there that was able to control the world at His fingertips, according to His divine plan.

Anyway, my mother wasn't too fond of me doubting our religion, er, her religion. That's kind of why I don't really have any help with my daughter. My mother has always been kind to me and she is perfect in every way, except one, and that was her intolerance for me becoming an atheist. She didn't like it because she told me that her faith had kept her going after I learned the truth about her getting raped at nineteen. I was the outcome and she told me she wouldn't have it any other way. If she was someone else who believed in abortion, would I be here today? Maybe some good came out of my mother, but she's still kind of difficult. I shouldn't have yelled at her that day my girlfriend died in the hospital after hemorrhaging after giving birth to my daughter-our daughter.

I do remember the conversation perfectly. It went something like this:

"Mom, she's dead. I can't believe it! I'll never see her again…"

"She's in a better place now, sweetie. She'll always be watching you from up there."

"You know what I believe, so why would you even say that?" I had yelled at her.

"I'm sorry, but I thought that after this…you know…you would believe again; for Misty's sake."

"She's dead, mom! Dead! Can't you comprehend death at all? She's gone from this world forever!" I continued to yell. Now that I look back on it, I was probably way out of line. My mother was only trying to comfort me. The conversation ended with some pretty horrible exchanges, mostly from me about how stupid she was for believing in God. But maybe she wasn't stupid, just brainwashed like everyone else in society. That's my view, anyway. It wasn't Misty's though, or Brock's, or my mom's. It was only mine, according to my mother. She told me that day if I don't believe, I will go to hell. Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. But who am I to judge? I probably should have just agreed with her. I fucked up our son/mother relationship. Well, for a short amount of time.

I needed help with the baby. I apologized, my mother apologized, and we fixed our relationship to what it used to be. However, six months ago, my mother died of breast cancer. I've been struggling with my daughter so much. It's impossible for me to have alone time or even sleep sometimes.

I didn't have any help for the longest time. I began to think about God again. Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe my mother was right about God. But I also remember Jessie's outburst of reason. Yes, Jessie of Team Rocket. She was smart, no doubt about that. Her outburst changed me forever.

Jessie and Meowth appeared and jumped out of a tree. I didn't know where James was at the time. But I knew I hadn't seen Team Rocket in a few months, which was weird. I was used to seeing them at least once a week. Anyway, I asked, "Where's James?" Then, Jessie broke down crying and collapsed to her knees. I had never seen her weak before, so it surprised me.

"He's gone, twoip," Meowth answered.

"What do you mean?" I asked without hesitation. I saw Meowth go over to Jessie and comfort her as best as he could.

"He's gone, as in he's dead."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Da boss shot him. He says we're next if we don't steal any'ting," James? Dead? I would have never known. It was a shock. Misty began to tear up and Brock pulled her into a hug. It was funny how death wasn't affecting me as it should have. But this was back when I had faith and believed in God. Misty and Brock did, too, but I guess I felt so strongly about it, death wouldn't have affected me so much.

"Jessie, he's up there in heaven with God right now. He's always there with you, watching you from up there." I said using my ridiculous words of comfort. I had a knack for trying to make people feel better and help them back then. Man, I sure was a naïve twelve year old boy at the time.

"No he's not!" Jessie yelled at me. I was surprised at the outburst, to be honest.

"Jess…" I heard Meowth say. He seemed to be trying to keep her away from us. He probably didn't want anyone to get hurt or something.

"No!" Jessie yelled and pushed him away and she got close to me. "Don't give me this God crap. I know very well he doesn't exist."

"He has to," I defended.

"Why, because your mother says so? Your friends say so? You're all brainwashed on this fucking planet. Does it really make sense that God exists?"

"Yeah it does!" I defended as I stomped my foot on the ground. I had forgotten that James was dead.

"No it doesn't!" Jessie yelled. "If God exists, why did he take my mother away from me at three? Why did he let her die? I was only three, I didn't do shit to upset him. Why would God let me be abused, like other kids from all around the world? Life isn't full of happiness twerp and you better fucking believe it! Because if you don't, you're living a lie! Why would he take James away from me, huh? Answer that! Why would he take everything that meant something to me? You answer that, Ash Ketchum! Fuck you. Fuck this world!" she screamed.

What she said had me thinking. And that's why I'm an atheist. I know Misty isn't up there smiling down at me. That's just some fucked up thought. What she said made sense. Why would someone that had power let the majority of people suffer? I didn't really get enough schooling due to trying to become a Pokemon Master, so I wasn't exposed to any of this.

Anyway, back to me being a single father and all. It's so hard being on my own. I wish Misty was back. But what good is wishing? It won't do anything. My mother's dead, Misty's dead. Now what? I'm just a single father… And it's difficult like I had said before.

My daughter looks just like her mother. However, she has a darker shade of orange and brown eyes, like mine. But she looks just like Misty in every other way. I miss her so much…I need her back. But it won't happen. I'll keep wishing and it'll never happen. Honestly, I've been depressed. You'd think that having my daughter would make me feel…well, far from depressed. I know I haven't been treating her right, but can you blame me? Well, I guess so. I can't make eye contact with her. I neglect her. I've tried to love her, but it's hard, you know?

She's holding my hand as we cross the street. I don't like her holding my hand, but I let her hold it. I know she's crying and people are staring. They probably think I did my job and disciplined her; not abusing her, but simply telling her she couldn't have a doll or toy because she broke a vase or ran into the street. She can feel that I do not like holding her hand. It doesn't really make me feel anything, though.

I walk up to a house. It's not Brock's or May's or Dawn's. But it's hers. It's Jessie's. I have to see how she's doing. I haven't seen her since the day she had her outburst. I heard she went to Misty's funeral, but I didn't see her there, but I felt that she was there. Weird feeling.

I knock on the average sized house; probably three bedroom three bathroom house, a modest living room, dining room. I hear footsteps come closer and closer. Finally, the door opens. I see her. Her hair's much shorter, probably just past her shoulders, same color though. Eyes haven't changed a bit. They're still blue. The bluest blue I've ever seen. She looks thinner than she was. She's always been thin. She wears a simple white dress. Nothing special, though. I look back into her eyes. My daughter grips my hand tighter, but I pull away. She cries harder, but silently. She's good at keeping quiet.

"Ash Ketchum?" Jessie says and steps outside and shuts the door behind her. "What are you doing here?" her voice was softer than from what I remember.

"I was thinking of you. I couldn't get you off my mind," I admitted. Gosh, my voice sounds hollow.

"How come?" Jessie asked me. "I mean, I didn't think I'd ever see you again," I'm glad she's ignoring my daughter. She's trembling now. I know that because I know her well. She's my daughter. She's just like Misty. But she's more sensitive.

"I was thinking about my new beliefs."

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember your outburst after James died?" she nods and looks upset now but only for a second.

"Yeah. I think so," she whispered. "I said I didn't believe in God and gave some reasons."

"Exactly. You changed my beliefs. You brought me to reality. And I want to thank you for that." I say and our eyes are still locked.

"Really? I didn't want to change what you believe in. I would never want to force someone to believe what I do."

"Yeah, but I'm glad you did," I say very plainly. She begins to ignore me. She breaks the eye contact and her eyes fall to my daughter. I want to tell her to ignore her, she's just my daughter, nothing special. But I keep my mouth shut. Jessie bends down to her. She's still crying without a sound or a sob. Tears fall and she looks distressed.

"And who are you?" Jessie asks with a smile. My daughter says nothing but the tears keep flowing down her reddened cheeks. Jessie pulls her into a hug. My daughter doesn't hug back. She cried harder and Jessie holds her closer. She hugs back now. Why won't Jessie bring me in her arms and comfort me? I'm the single father. I'm struggling. I lost my wife, then my mom. I have this daughter who never stops crying. "Why are you crying?" she asks her this time. My daughter never really speaks unless necessary. "Please tell me," my daughter only points to me. I'm the reason why she's crying? Yeah right. "What did he do?"

"N-nothing," it comes out no more than a whisper. Jessie stands up and glares at me.

"What did you do to her?" Jessie asks me, but her voice is still soft. She sounds fragile and weak.

"Nothing," I say, "I haven't done anything to her. She's just a cry baby," I explain.

"Sweetie, please tell me what he did to you to make you upset?" Jessie crouches down. There is a small breeze in the air and it makes her hair blow behind her. My daughter doesn't look as elegant as this. Her hair is blowing forward and makes her look messy.

"Daddy doesn't love me," I hear her say in a very quiet whisper. I'm surprised I am even able to hear her speak.

"Of course he loves you," Jessie tries to reassure. Too bad I don't and she's lying to my daughter.

"Uh-uh," she shakes her head and then begins to cry again. Jessie lifts her up and my daughter clutches a bit of fabric from her dress, almost like clinging to her.

"Why don't you love her, Ash?" she asks me and a couple tears slide down her own face. "Is it because of Misty?"

"She killed her."

"I killed Mommy," my daughter cries. She knows that she killed Misty. I've told her before and many times when she gets on my nerves.

"No, you did not kill your Mommy. I swear you didn't kill her."

"Yes I did. Daddy says so," well, at least she tells the truth.

"No, he's wrong. You didn't kill your mother. It's not your fault she's dead, I promise. Don't listen to your daddy when he says that, okay?" Jessie cries to her.

"Then who killed her?" my daughter asks and looks into Jessie's ocean blue eyes.

"No one killed her. She died from losing too much blood. I promise you, this isn't your fault," Jessie says and kisses her forehead.

"Really?" she doesn't look at me. She stays in Jessie's arms and smiles.

"Really," Jessie says.

"My name is Celia," My daughter reveals her name her mother had given her before she passed away. Celia means heaven. Weird that Misty chose the name Celia right before she died. My daughter fell asleep in Jessie's arms, so she invites me inside. I follow her inside her house, just as I pictured it before. It's clean and neat. Everything is in order. Jessie goes to put my daughter on the bed. I sit on her white couch. Not a speck of dirt on it so I must be careful. I watch her walk into the living room. She sits down next to me and takes a hold of my hand.

"Don't hate her. It's not her fault," she whispers as we make eye contact.

"Then who's is it?" I ask. "If my daughter never existed, then Misty would still be here," I feel myself crying. I don't stop or try to hold it in.

"It isn't anyone's fault, Ash. You can't be blaming yourself and Celia for the rest of your life," Jessie says to me and squeezes my hand a couple of times. "Please don't," tears fall from her cheeks. "You're killing yourself over this. You aren't yourself anymore…what happened to you?" her head is up against my chest and I found myself wrapping my arm around her narrow frame.

"Misty's dead and so is my mother. I'm struggling with a four year old by myself. May, Dawn, and Brock…they went on with their lives and are still competing in contests and traveling the world. I'm never going to be a Pokemon Master like I always wanted. Instead, I'm stuck at working in a restaurant and living pay check to pay check and the money's running out and I just… I can't do this anymore…" I explain.

"It doesn't mean you can't be happy," Jessie whispers. "Not everything happens according to plan. Things happen and you have to live with them."

"Jessie…how can I live with this? It's so hard…" I say in a quiet voice. I feel her arm wrap around my waist. She pulls me closer to her and I can feel her tears dampening my shirt. She then looks back up at me.

"I know it's hard, but please try to pull yourself together and be happy for Celia. If you're happy, she'll be happy too. No child deserves to be treated as you have been treating her," Jessie says to me. I think about her words.

"I can't be happy without Misty," I decide.

"Yes you can, Ash. You're just choosing not to be. Stop punishing yourself and get on with life, okay? Live for the present and the future, not the past. The past is done; you can't change anything about that. But you can change the present."

"You know, if this was ten years ago, I would have never suspected you to be so smart," I compliment. A small smile forms on her face.

"I learned a lot over the years," she says. I know she's only five years older than me and she is not that old enough to even say what she just said, but I keep my mouth shut, knowing that her previous statement is right.

"I just can't bring myself to love her," I admit.

"Do you really think Misty would want you hate her?"

"…No… but it doesn't matter what she would want because she's fucking dead!" I yell. At the outburst, Jessie releases me and sits up straight.

"But then shouldn't you honor her more if she's dead?" somehow, Jessie stays calm. She doesn't even yell back or hit me or something. She changed a lot from the Jessie of Team Rocket that I knew years back.

"She wouldn't know, so it doesn't matter anymore, does it? I'll never see her again, Jessie. I won't see Misty again or my mother."

"And I won't see James or my mother ever gain either," she says. I forgot about that, but this is how she handles death. I don't handle it in a calm manner like her, even if it is years after the one I love has perished.

"But I'm a single father, struggling to pay the bills every month. You seem to have it pretty good here," I snap at her. She looks down at her hands on her lap and closes her eyes for a moment.

"You don't know anything," she whispers.

"I do and you have it made here! It doesn't look like you had to work at all since I last saw you."

"You don't know anything," she repeats and looks up into my uncomforting gaze. "It's true, I don't have to work. But that's only because his parents gave him his inheritance a few months before he was murdered," I can tell this is hard for her to talk about because of the tears she so desperately tries to wipe away whenever they fall down her face. "And he made his will, just in case something happened to him. I think he knew what was going to happen to him…." she pauses for a bit, but then continues, "In his will, I received basically everything that he owned including his large amount of money. He didn't want me to be poor and helpless if anything happened to him. He even gave me his Pokemon and his bottle cap collection," she pauses again and swallows hard to keep from crying. "It probably seems from first glance that everything's okay here, but it's not. Meowth got sick a few months ago, and he isn't getting better, Ash. He's getting worse and worse…" she doesn't stop the tears falling from her face this time. I reach over and slowly wipe them away as they fall down her cheek. "He's all I have left…I…I don't know what I'll do when he's gone…" I pull her into a hug. She has become so fragile…it's kind of frightening actually. "The night before he died, James talked me into making love to him. I did, and I'm glad I did. He knew what was going to happen, Ash. Why didn't he tell me? Why?"

"He probably didn't want you to worry. He probably wanted his last memory with you to be happy, not fearing his death that was to come."

"You're right…I want him back so badly. I need him. It makes my heart ache knowing that I'll never see him again…"

"I feel the same way about Misty," I say and hold her closer to me. Just then, a small pink Pokemon wanders over to us.

"Mime mime mime," it cries . Jessie pulls away from the hug and picks up the small Pokemon. She proceeds to give the crying Pokemon a hug. She looks at me and gives me a sad smile.

"Mime Jr. is having the hardest time getting over James' death. The others have already accepted it except him," Mime Jr. nods and cries at the same time, probably wishing that he could follow James around again and imitate him. Jessie looks over at the digital clock on her cable box. She looks at me and says, "Excuse me, but I need to give Meowth his lunch. You can come if you want, but you may not like what you see."

I follow her into the kitchen and she sets Mime Jr. down next to Seviper who immediately tries to cheer up the little Pokemon. Jessie prepares something in a bottle, usually used for babies. I would know. She puts in this nutrient rich formula and mixes Meowth's medicine in the bottle. A watch as she tries not to cry, probably thinking of Meowth. As she mixes it, I watch Wobbuffet come over to her and wrap his arms around her waist as best as he could. Jessie bends down and hugs him back. Wobbuffet smiles up at her and wanders off to go play with Seviper and Mime Jr.

"Wobbuffet really worries about me," Jessie says as she securely puts the top of the bottle on. I nod and follow her up the stairs into one of the bedrooms. There are three of them, just as I suspected earlier. She opens the door quietly. Meowth looks as if he's sleeping. He's in a twin bed with cream colored covers and a blue pillow. The room is clean and tidy with a plush green carpet and a neutral colored wall. He looks smaller than what I had remembered. His paw rests over the covers. It looks thin and frail. No Pokemon deserves this.

Jessie walks over to him and sits on his bed. I sit on a chair next to a white rocking chair with a blue blanket on the back of it. I watch Jessie as she gently wakes him up from his nap. "Meowth," she says, "Time for lunch," he wakes up and smiles at her, well as best as he can.

"Jess…it hurts…" he cringes at the pain of whatever's hurting him. Jessie gives him a sad smile and reaches over to the nightstand drawer. She places the bottle on top of the nightstand and pulls out a needle and a bottle of liquid medicine. Like a professional, she fills up the needle to the proper amount and presses down on the needle to ensure there's no air in it. She takes Meowth's paw in her hand and presses the it into him. Meowth whimpers for a few seconds and stops when Jessie takes the needle out and puts it away and back in the drawer. She takes a cotton ball and holds it on his arm that probably has many holes in it from the shots she has to give him every day.

I watch her pick up Meowth carefully and cradle him in her arms, almost as if he's an infant. She takes the bottle and sits in the rocking chair beside me. I see her feeding Meowth and rocking back and forth in the rocking chair.

When she is done, she puts him back in the bed and turns off the lights. I follow her out of the room and close the door. "I'm sorry," I say.

"Don't be," Jessie smiles. I hug her close to me and she hugs back. I don't want to let her go. It's an odd feeling, really. This was how I felt when I held Misty for the first time. Jessie becomes weak and I hold her up with my strength. She's crying. "I want James…" she whispers. I'm beginning to think she loves James more than I could ever love Misty. I realize that what I had was a teenage romance but Jessie had lost James, her true love.

"I know you do…" I say.

"Stay with me," she says to me. "Please, stay here."

"You want me to move in?"

"Yes, please move in. Please. I don't want to live alone anymore."

"What about my daughter?" I ask.

"Bring her here too. I don't care. And her name's Celia," Jessie says and gives me one of her beautiful smiles.

"All right, I'll stay here with you," what else could I possibly do? She's vulnerable, scared, and is probably going to lose Meowth.

"Thank you," she cries.

"Daddy?" my daughter says to me and rubs her eyes. She must have just woken up. She backs away slowly, afraid I'm going to yell at her again. Instead, I crouch down and open up my arms for a hug.

"Come here, Celia," this is probably the first time a say her name since my mother passed away.

"Daddy!" she says happily and runs over to me. I embrace her in a hug and for now on, I will love her just as much as Misty would. As much as I should have been. Enough for the two of us.

5/25/11- So I found this on my computer and reread it out of curiousity. I didn't like the grammar, and found many mistakes. So, I fixed it. It is the same exact story as before, just fixed up. Please read and review :)