As the Murkrow Flies

His fingers traced over the smooth border of the long wooden object as his auburn eyes fixed on his fingers. The day was cold; the wind blew in the same direction, and the clouds stood in their grey bland state. It was your typical weather that screamed death and sorrow and he hated it. He traced his fingers again and again as people passed him by, which only made him stay longer. They just stood, stared and spoke as if she could hear them before walking away. He on the other hand admired their courage to simply walk away; by tomorrow, it was going to be sunshine and smiles from then on.

Winter was never cold, there was the chilling cold screams of the wind that blew past that sent shivers up his spine. He was never cold but she somehow found a way to make his hope into nothing but despair. Like keys on a piano he moved his fingers higher and higher up until he had reached the highest note on the musical instrument. There behind a glass was a woman.

Her hair brushed out and lay beautifully as her head rested on the pillow where nearly every strand of her brown hair could be seen. Her eye lashes curled, thickened by makeup. Her lips were painted in the richest shade of red as her hands locked together as if she was praying. She wore what looked like it was good enough to be her wedding dress as it was so beautiful. He cussed on why of all the events in life she could wear it, it had to be on the day of her funeral that she had to wear it and look so beautiful for.

He hated it. He hated that she would never know how beautiful she looked behind that wooden coffin she slept in; she would never know how much everyone loved her. She would never know how much he admired her. She was stunning and no matter how many times he begged to God, she wasn't going to hear him. Even if he died, a certain book says that once you do reach up to the eternal kingdom you wouldn't remember anyone up there.

What was the point of dying if he couldn't even remember her and ask for her forgiveness?

The warm arms of his mother found their way around him, holding him still as she placed her chin on his head as they and the many watched one of the greatest coordinators sink gentle in a beautiful manner as her white wooden coffin was all he could see of her last. The warm and fragile hands of his mother came into his view, holding a single rose. With the wind and the dark skies above them it stood out just as beautiful as a certain friend once did.

"Go." She spoke humbly to him. Even she was finding it hard to stay strong for her only child.

With her soft words to guide him he reached for the single rose but even holding it started to make him tremble. But seeing her coffin was nearly out of his sight, he gently threw the flower down onto her coffin before seeing it fade from his sight completely. Delia could feel her son already shaking at the thought of saying goodbye to his friend, and she held onto him tighter. She let go of him briefly before turning around so she was in her son's line of vision.

"It will be alright Ash." Delia knelt down to her son's height. "She wouldn't want to see you like this."

"How do you know that?" His voice was weak and destroyed. "How do we all know that? She's dead and we don't even know who and what caused her to kill herself!" The young boy suddenly snapped.

"Shhh," Delia's words comforted Ash for a brief moment as she placed one finger on his lips. "You don't have to hear them or say it to know."

Delia knew her son well. Hearing every story that reached back to her that talked about her son's heroic moments, she couldn't help but smile. There were times where he had to deal with his friends leaving but he always stayed strong and lived in their memory, even if he couldn't remember their names the sound of their voices or how they met. He would stay silent for a moment and then keep on going. He was strong and he had his moments, but nothing like this.

He was so young and so fragile. It made Delia questioned if sending him out all alone with a group of friends was the right thing, but she knew keeping her son locked up in a small town wasn't right either.

Looking over her son's shoulders was a group of his closest friends and rivals. Giving a brief nod to them, Delia returned to her feet and gave one more comforting embrace to her son. She lifted his chin until their eyes met. "Your friends are here. Talk to them. I'll take you home after."

His eyes were empty and had no more emotion when he looked at his mother. Fears were sent through her body as she held her child. "I'm always here for you. Don't forget it."

His eyes that were once filled with hope and dreams were erased the day he heard the news that May was gone. It felt so unexpected to everyone except him. He felt her loss to Dawn at the Wallace Cup was only one of the many reasons she began to doubt her abilities. He couldn't stop screaming and knocking things off of tables when his mother confirmed her death was not a rumor. All that hope – that strength many admired from him – was gone, like a mask that had been removed after it had served its purpose.

Everything was gone.

But for a brief moment, as his mother was holding him, a certain shade of that hope could be seen in his eyes. Water was seen building in his eyes as tears escaped him.

"I know. I know."

His mother smiled when she saw her child managing to give a small one back at her. It was a start, she knew, but to him, he only smiled to stop the sorrow she was having. After having his grandfather and his own father missing since he was a child, losing him would cause her to lose it as well. His mother was fragile no matter how many times she smiled and said she was fine.

Then, as she left, his friends gathered around like flies. They were annoying. He didn't know why, but each one had an impact on the person they all came to see.

May,

He looked into their eyes and saw them avoiding his gaze when their eyes would meet. Some would stutter, some even took a step or two back, and some had the courage to look deadly straight back at him. Did they even know each one of them caused her to end her own life? No, perhaps they liked it having one less rival to deal with. After today they wouldn't even know her anymore; they would share their grief to burden others before walking away.

He wanted to yell at them but he was in no mood. He was just so tired; tired of the grief and dread he had over him.

"Ash," A voice of a sweet girl echoes in his ears. "We're here now."

He clenched onto his other arm and nodded as the young blunette came over and embraced him tightly. Her hand comforting him by running it up and down his back as Ash remained silent. Brock soon came into his vision in the corner of his eyes and gave a pat on his shoulder and made on his way. Pulling apart his friend came back into his sight and smiled for the both of them.

He stayed bare and quiet. He hated them as much he hated himself, but they meant no harm. They would never know their expectations and dreams would all come down to this. Like the others, she walked past him and went to the coffin where that beautiful woman was. Her beauty was never going to be seen by anybody again after today.

Then, one by one, they all started to leave when certain rivals came to the scene. Ash couldn't understand what to feel. He wanted to respect May and the rivals she soon called her friends only to have the favor returned by how much she thought she was a failure.

He just wanted to hate the world right now. He should of done something the night she called to him. He should have just dropped everything and ran. Maybe if he did he would have saved her, held her tight and told her everything was going to be fine, but his trust told him she'd be fine. She's May, brave, happy, full of hope – nothing can go wrong.

Bullshit.

As his eyes open he could feel the hands of Solidad helping him to his feet, but as soon he knew it was her, he quickly shrugged the woman away from him. He began to breathe heavily and took steps back before deciding to stand strong.

"What are you doing here? It's your fault she's dead."

"Ash…"

He couldn't remember who spoke his name but all he knew was that he hated it. "Don't you dare fucking speak to me."

They were just as shocked with his language as he was, but he didn't regret. It only showed how much he hated them, his friends and even himself. His eyes gazed at Drew who remained silent and calm unlike himself, where his emotions where just all over the place – scatted and uncollected.

There was no sadness in his eyes; to others it was clear he was in just as much grief as he was, but Ash couldn't see it. All he could see was that cocky little asshole and a joke of a coordinator in front of him who was most likely there to laugh at his friend's grave. He took a step forward and held onto his shirt tightly.

"Get out. Get the fuck out. You have no right. Just leave; I don't want to see you."

Ash kept on going and going and just hated how the male coordinator just stood there and took it all in. His friends, Harley and Solidad, wanted to help him badly, but Drew shook it off as Ash continued on and on. He spoke in a tone that not many could hear, but the way and how tightly the young trainer was holding onto his shirt showed the distressed he was feeling.

But Drew had his limit; he was at breaking point. He didn't want to cause such a scene at May's funeral, but Ash needed to be stopped. He needed to have his friends or his mother to hold him back. Grabbing Ash's hands, he ripped the man off of him, sending him onto the ground.

"You honestly think I like what I did?!" He snapped. "How did I know that what I was saying would end up killing her? How do we all know that every time we spoke something to her it would end up hurting her?!" Now Drew held onto Ash's shirt, lifting him up from the ground slightly, "Tell me Ash! Tell me how can I, because you have no idea how much we and I want to get this damn burden off our shoulders!" He shook the young trainer slightly before dropping him down due to his friend's requests. "Don't act like I don't care!"

He didn't have the answers and he didn't want to. It would only make the grief and pain build on and on. He could see the young man dry his tears away as his rivals and friends helped him to calm down, but it was too much for him as Drew walked out with his friends tagging along. Soon his own friends knelt down as he just lay on the grass on his side, his back facing Brock and his face facing Dawn. Soon he could hear the footsteps of his distressed mother coming towards him and kneeling down. With his friends already calming Ash down to some degree, it made Delia's job as his mother a little easier as she picked up her child and held her tightly in her arms, rocking him in her arms.

Drew had exploded on the same level as he did, but only at the last minute. Just the mention of her name sent them into fury. They couldn't see who was to blame more – her best friend and mentor or her biggest rival, boys that both happened to be madly in love with her with the burden of never finding the courage to ever tell her.

Not even on the day where the earth would separate them both.

His eyelids flickered behind the dull and setting sun. In the far distance stood a tree that didn't bare a single leaf. On a branch was a Murkrow, but due to the distance, he could only identify it by its silhouette. He could see its wings flapping as it cried its name out loudly.

Ash watched as the bird flapped his wings over and over again while echoing its name into the dull grey morning sky. It became smaller and smaller as the seconds went by. He felt he was minutes from falling asleep and this annoyed him. He wanted to stay awake until it was over – until he was ready – but his body and heart refused. Ash wanted to find the strength to reach out to the fading image, but he couldn't.

He was tired and he just wanted it all to be over. But he friends, his own mother was holding his back. For once, he hated having so much people caring about him.

For a brief moment, before he felt himself go into slumber, he felt that Murkrow's call spoke to him in the same tone, same voice May had whenever she would tell him to be strong. It wasn't often but when her sweet and caring voice would speak his three letter name, he couldn't help but smile.

But not today; it only brought more pain than her ever sweet voice could ever repair.

Before Ash could come to understand everything that was happening around him, May was no longer in his reach. The many layers of dirt now separated them for good. The pavement of concrete, a gravestone and a candle holder was all that was left to send any message to her. No words could be spoken; Ash was convinced she'd never hear his prayers. Flowers were seen by the bed of her gravestone, all different and in different colours as wax from candles stained the candle holder.

Placing a candle of his own, it slipped into place easily after peeling some of the dried wax on the holder. With his Pikachu by his side the candle was soon lit up, glowing brightly in the setting sun. The mouse's ears were down, his tail hardly leaving the ground as he held the box of matches closely to his chest. He knew no matter how cheerful his voice was or how playful he was, he couldn't take the grief in Ash's eyes. They were so empty and had been for the last week or so.

His trainer played over a recording in his head of the night May called him. Her voice was so tragic and was breaking up all over the place. She had so many reasons why she doubted herself. There were names mentioned like how much Drew made her feel incompetent and worthless as a coordinator, and Harley who he remembered her telling him as abusive, making fun of her all the time they would meet and would laugh every time she pulled off a wonderful combination.

Solidad played as her reminded that she could not be as good as she wanted and the expectations everyone had against her was too much. Ash didn't want to believe that to some degree Brock played a factor to her decaying state, or that her loss against his friend Dawn at the Wallace Cup reminded her of her failures to grow.

Max and her parents didn't help with their expectations. It was too much. He could already imagine her screaming in her room one day, holding her hands on her ears praying it would stop. But it didn't.

The young trainer placed his palm on the cold concrete slab as the tears found their way down his face. "Some friend I am." He muttered. "I wasn't there when you needed me the most."

She kept on going and going as her voice played on and on. She spoke of disgust of herself and kept on naming the failures she had committed, rather than the good she had done for the others around her. That night when she called him and spoke all her troubles to him, he just wanted to mute them all and end the call. This wasn't the May he trained back in their travels together. He wanted her to stop so he could keep the memories of her as a strong and wonderful woman alive, but the more she spoke and cried the less clear those days became. Soon it reached the point where seeing her smiling was impossible to even imagine.

When May began to speak about the failures causing her to perceive herself as valueless, eventually reaching the point where she lacked the will to go on, he'd simply had enough.

"Stop it." Ash replied. It was bold and something unexpected to see from him. He turned his chair and looked around himself. The pokecentre was empty and it was already late into the hours in Unova. He could finally talk to her without the worry of others hearing into their conversation. "This isn't you May. I didn't train you to be like this."

Her lips stopped moving and her tears were postponed for a brief moment. "I see. Even you have this expectation that I can never fulfil."

He slammed his hands down on the table, just missing hitting the keys to end their video call. "That isn't an expectation May! That is who you are! That is the person I see you as! Please, if you are feeling sad and alone there then go back home to your parents or come here. Let me talk to you; let me help you get better."

"My parents and Max would only be disappointed to see me head home in the middle of my journey and I will only interrupt your journey in the Unova league."

"I don't care!" He snapped. "I refuse to end this call without you agreeing you will go home and rest. If I lose in the league or miss a gym battle or two it is my fault not yours!" Ash's voice was now desperate. "Please don't leave me like this. Promise me you'll be fine."

"Fine Ash." May sighed as she dried her tears away. "I'll go home. I won't share this burden with anyone else."

When she smiled for the last time he knew something was wrong, but the video ended before he could say anything to stop her. When morning came her name floated around, but not for the reasons he wanted. When the first ray of light brightened up the skies of Unova, she was already gone.

With great reluctance, Ash awoke from his reverie. He knew he had made mistakes. He knew what went wrong. If only he had known before it was too late.

As his friends continued to look on, countless memories came rushing back through Ash's mind. Weeks spent traveling together replayed in Ash's mind like a silent film. They brought him no relief, only more regrets.

Throughout everything they had gone through together, she had been there for him. She had always believed in him; she was his strength when he needed her most, and yet, when she came to him in her time of need, he had done nothing to repay the favor. He had turned her away when she would have taken him in; he paid back her kindness with hostility.

In all his life, there was nothing he regretted more.

A single tear carved its way down Ash's face. A warm hand wrapped him in its embrace and a soothing voice broke the tragic silence that had fallen upon the friends gathered at the grave. He didn't know who they belonged to. It was only the comfort these actions brought that mattered to the raven-haired trainer as he relived his memories of May.

Ash wanted nothing more than to escape the grief the memories brought, and yet he could not bring himself to push them from his mind. In that moment, not even death could break him away from the girl he had once loved. He knew she was gone, yet he couldn't bring himself to bear the full burden of the revelation.

He had killed her.

Just as much as every rival, he had killed her. She had given her kindness and care wholeheartedly to the world, and he along with the rest of the world had given her nothing in return. He had tried to be strong. He had tried to be there for her. He had done what he thought was right, and yet his words had killed her just the same.

The first, single tear was followed by another as the emotions took their toll.

He had been so focused on his strength that he had blinded himself to her weakness. He had given her no caring. Rather, he had given her little more than empty remorse. He had been too engrossed in the strength he had taught her to see the weakness that she most needed him for.

Soon, Ash found he lacked the ability to hold back the tears any longer.

Luckily for Ash, he was not alone. He had his friends there to comfort him in his time of need. The solitary voice and hand soon became two, then three, then four as his friends gathered by his side to console him, and yet their presence only brought more tears. It was so unfair. Why were they there for him when he couldn't be there for her?

The young trainer tried to find something – anything – that he could say to his friends, but no words came to him. There were only tears.

Ash simply couldn't bring himself to accept it. He knew he could have done so much more to save her, and he knew he had missed his chance. It just seemed so unfair, and yet there was nothing he could do that would change that fact.

He thought back on the time when he first knew she was dead. So many emotions had been flooding through his mind. Despair. Anger. Regret. In a fit of desperate rage, he had been prepared to take his own life.

If she couldn't live with him, he could die with her.

Still, a small part of him knew that that wasn't the answer. A small part of him was glad for the friendly hearts that were there to talk him down from his own ledge. A small part of him was glad that his friends had moved him to keep on living, and yet a small part of him resented it.

Ash was beyond the point of trying to look strong for his friends gathered by the grave, and in that moment, his own strength didn't matter. All that mattered was the emotions that he had tried to keep bottled up for so many days. Surrounded by the warm embrace of his friends, Ash finally brought himself to bear the full weight of what he had been feeling.

Need.

Through everything he felt, that was the one emotion above them all. He needed his friends and their kind embrace. He needed to know everything would get better, if only with time. He needed to know that it was okay to be vulnerable. He needed.

Ash felt one of his friends press a small wooden figure into his hands.

"It will be okay," the accompanying voice proclaimed. "It will be okay."

Ash didn't look at the figure that had come to rest in his hand. He closed his eyes and ran his hand over it, slowly and carefully. He didn't need to see it to know what it was. A small part of him knew it from the start.

It was the wooden Teddiursa May had given him at Lake Valor.

The small figure brought him some semblance of comfort, but he still did not smile; no comfort shown in his eyes. Ash remembered the day she had given him the token as a gift. He remembered the feelings it brought on.

It had been several seasons since they had traveled together. Their journeys had simply led them in different directions and they had followed. They had gone their separate ways, promising they would see each other again someday.

And they did.

They had met again at Lake Valor, on the eve of the Wallace Cup, and before they became competitors, they found time to be friends again. She had stepped off of the ferry, and they had met her as friends would. At the time of their reunion, Ash hadn't thought so greatly of the gift she brought. It paled in comparison to being with his friend again in person.

But now it was all he had.

She was gone, but her gift remained. As Ash continued his reflections, he found the small figure meaning so much more than it had on that day – the last time they had met in person. It had been a pleasant reminder that they were still in each other's thoughts. Even as the distance of their travels pulled them apart, her gift to him had served as a token of the friendship that continued to bind them.

Couldn't it do the same now?

Ash found himself reaching into his pocket, where half of a ribbon lay, worn around the edges but still pristine. For a brief moment, a glimmer of hope shone in his eyes.

Where had the other half of the ribbon ended up?

He knew May had kept it with her throughout her travels. He knew what it meant to her. Had it been buried with her? The thought brought him the first real comfort he had felt that day.

Ever since their travels had drawn them in their own directions, they held one thing in common. They both kept their half of the Terracotta Ribbon. They both knew what it meant to themselves and the other. Their travels may have sent them apart – headed for different goals in different directions – but they never lost each other.

Ash thought back to the last time he had talked to May in person, and the last conversation they had. He remembered her words with haunting clarity, ringing through his mind.

"Ash, I want you to promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Never give up on your dreams," she said with a small smile. "I know I won't."

At the time, he hadn't known what she really meant with her final statement. For so long, he had thought she was referring to her own dreams. He felt so sure in his convictions, but he was wrong. As he knelt by her grave, he realized what she truly meant.

For the first time that day, Ash felt a hint of happiness in his life. For the first time that day, he didn't feel alone in his suffering. He had his friends by his side to comfort him, but that wasn't all. If only in spirit, he knew she was still looking out for him. Supporting him. Wanting him to continue the pursuit of his dreams.

For the first time that day, a genuine smile settled upon his face.

He knew she was gone. He always would. He knew there was no bringing her back. He knew she wasn't gone from his life entirely. He still had a small piece of her to take with him. More than a wooden doll or half a scrap of fabric, he still had his memories. He still had her love and support.

Without saying a word, Ash turned away from the grave. There was no use dwelling on the despair and grief any longer; nothing would ever remove them, but he knew he would come to bear their burden eventually. Most importantly, however, he knew that the memories wouldn't fade either. He still had a piece of her to hold onto – a happy piece, free from the grief and suffering of the funeral. He still had a piece of the kind and loving girl he once knew and loved.

Slowly, Ash walked from the side of the grave. Followed closely by his friends, he walked on unsure feet from the final resting place of his friend. He wasn't moving on. He never truly would. He was, however, moving forward.

As he walked away, Ash paused and turned one final time towards the grave, gazing at the place where he had laid his friend to rest, knowing that it would not be her final place. She would always be with him, in his heart and in his memory. She would never be forgotten and never truly gone.

As he turned away from the grave, a lone murkrow perched upon the headstone. It did not cry out its name. It made no sound at all. It sat, silently watching over the grave of his friend.

For reasons beyond explanation, Ash found that it brought a smile to his face, if ever so subtle.

Perhaps the greatest distances are not so great as the murkrow flies.

A/N: Hello everyone. This is a advanceshipping collab story with a good friend of mine Dr. Phil E. Sophical. This was planned months ago last year. He wanted to write one last story for the pokemon story before he calls it quits. So when I heard that I needed to make sure I wrote the best story I could ever write, and I think I did that here.

I'm sorry if I made you guys cry, this is Dr. Phil E. Sophical idea and polt. I just ran with it. I think we had another idea that I wrote last year but we fell short on that one.

Anyway to my dear friend: even if you don't write for pokemon anymore I think you should keep writing. I have never read such talent like yours in a very long time. :D

Unlike him, I'm not stopping writting. I'm still going. So don't start crying yet. xD

~midnight