THROUGH THE GLASS

Stormy Says: Alright, I admit it. I'm an old timer. Pokémon was the show of my childhood, and I was shipping characters before I even knew what shipping was. That being said… I'm a bit behind on the times. I know next to nothing about characters from May and Max's generation, and even less when it comes to people like Dawn. (Wait…who's Paul again?) I only really know the original trio, and they will be forever near and dear to my heart. Soooo… Of course, it's no surprise to say that my plots revolve around them. Kanto is bomb and Caterpie kicks ass.

Disclaimer time: If I owned Pokémon, Misty would have never left and Pikachu would be given subtitles by now.

Chapter One: Don't Know How

Nothing on the menu looked interesting. Absolutely nothing. If he had to ask how to pronounce the name of one more over-priced brand of wine again, he would throw the said bottle out the window. This was pointless. And, to top it off, a fierce headache was pounding its way through his temple…

"Ash? You alright? You look a little sick…"

The sound of his date's voice brought him back to earth. His eyes blinked behind his dark-tinted sunglasses, trying to focus again. But…everything! Blinking, breathing, it didn't really matter at this point. Why did everything just take so much…effort? And his damn head…throbbing…

"I'm fine, Amanda." The lie tumbled its way past his lips as unconvincing as always. Even if the flashy watch on his wrist and the shine on his glossy black shoes said otherwise, he would always be the bumbling little boy from Pallet Town. …At least at heart.

At least…he liked to think so.

Amanda forced a smile back at her companion, tucking a strand of mahogany hair behind her ear. It curled delicately against her neck, bouncing as she turned back to the waiter. "I'll take just a glass of Chardonnay. Actually…scratch that." Her dark eyes, thick with mascara , flicked up to the man sitting across from her. A very disgruntled Ash had just – loudly – thrown down his menu. "…I think we'll just take two mineral waters. One each." She reached forward and picked up the thrown menu along with her own. She returned it to the waiter with a sigh. "Thank you." The man tucked the menus under his arm with a flourish. He hurried off into the crowded restaurant, quickly out of sight.

As soon as they were alone, the woman spoke up again. "What's wrong with you? Really?" This time, her voice wasn't as comforting as before. The snap was unmistakable.

Ash had propped up his elbow on the table, holding his head up in the palm of his hand. He was drained. And, behind his glasses, a vicious scowl was brewing. "I'm…just tired. Okay? How come you never believe me?" Neither one of them chose to comment on Ash's lack of acting skills. "I'm sick and tired of going out so often. Why can't we just stay at home for one damn evening? Why do we always have to go out and 'show our face'? What? Will they forget who we are if we don't?" The bitter sarcasm seemed to leak into the air, and some of the patrons from nearby tables gave them nosy looks.

"It's more than that," Amanda briskly replied. But he cut her off.

"It's always 'more than that'. But how come you can never tell me why?" He roughly shoved his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with his thumb. The rims creaked slightly under the pressure, but he was too fired up to notice. Besides. Amanda had brought them for him. And at the moment, he had half a mind to throw them across the room.

His date rapped her French tipped nails against the table. Her makeup gave her eyes an eerie, cat-like quality. It was like she was sizing up her prey. Funny to think that those same eyes, just a few hours ago, had been the source of his head spinning and thoughts turning slightly less than pure. "What would you rather be doing right now, Ash? Sitting at home, chugging a beer, watching me prance around in some fancy lingerie? Because, you know, sometimes I wonder what exactly you bring to the table to make me want to do whatever your simple little mind fancies up."

Ash tried to ignore the blushing faces of the eavesdroppers around them. "Oh, shut it."

The corners of Amanda's lips tightened. There was way too much concentrated control on her face. It made Ash's stomach knot. "I'm just trying to help," she whispered. "You know that keeping you in the public eye is the only way money will keep pouring in. It keeps a roof over your head." As she spoke, the waiter had returned with their orders in hand. A crystal glass was placed before each of them. Giving a little bow of the head, he wandered away once more. "After all," she continued, taking a delicate sip of water in the process, "…we both know that you need the income, Mr. Pokémon Master."

Ash made no comment, but Amanda's words seemed to cue a response from the table behind them. A young girl of what looked to be fifteen rose and scuttled over to the dater's booth. "So it is you!" she cooed, beaming at Ash and his stoic expression. It was a sad thing she couldn't see his eyes, or she might have known now wasn't the time to be bothering this particular man. "I thought it was you from a distance, but I couldn't be sure. And I didn't want to just walk over and make an idiot of myself if it wasn't! That would have been just so, like, embarrassing!" Attempting to control an outburst of giggles, the girl dug around in the purse slung over her shoulder. Taking out a pen (and a corner from a piece of old homework?), she slid it over towards Ash's water. "Could I get your autograph? You seriously have no idea how much of an idol you are to me! I've decided to start training my own Pokémon team ever since you won the Championship! Your skill as a Trainer is just amazing!"

Temples still throbbing, Ash's hand twitched towards the pen and slowly picked it up. He distantly heard the girl continue to ramble about the Skitty her father had bought her, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. It was odd. Even for him. Normally he loved it when young Trainers came up to him to talk about his passion, but tonight even that sounded stale. He scrawled out his name on the cramped piece of paper, holding out the pen to the young girl after he was done.

"Oh!" she added as an afterthought. "Can you sign it to 'Courtney'? That's me." A blush flooded her cheeks.

With a sigh, Ash lowered the pen again and managed to squeeze the name in the upper corner.

"Thank you so much!" Courtney crowed, but she seemed to finally be catching on to her idol's bad mood. With an awkward curtsy, the girl skipped back over to her parent's table. The paper was clutched adoringly to her chest.

A silence fell over the table once more. It wasn't until a soft laugh hit his ears that Ash remembered he wasn't alone. "…'I told you so' seems a bit unnecessary, don't you think?"

Ash continued to say nothing back. After all, Amanda had a point…as much as it bothered him. Being the youngest Trainer in a century to become a Pokémon Master had its perks. But it also had its downsides. One of them was the need to not be forgotten, or else all the press conferences and all the merchandise companies would stop calling. And when they stopped, so did the money. But…this… His chocolate gaze looked about the expensive, five star restaurant and felt uneasy. None of this had ever played a role in his childhood fantasies. …He looked quickly at the beautiful woman across from him and changed that statement. Well…perhaps that part had been a bit of it, as he had started to get older. But nineteen was a young age to come back to his roots and win the Kanto league. And he never knew that a whole new world would open itself to him when the elusive fame was his…

Oh, Mew. He felt sick.

"I'm going to go get some fresh air," he mumbled absentmindedly. And with that he rose to his feet, leaving his drink untouched. Amanda sighed heavily as he walked away, but made no move to stop him. Not that he had expected her to – not yet, anyhow. Walking past a grinning Courtney and various other curious eyes, Ash pushed out the front double doors. And in he stepped to the cold Cerulean night.

The city was quiet as the double doors swung shut behind him. The new restaurant was on the Cape, and the ocean air chilled his bare skin. In his rush to be rid of the stupid place, Ash had forgotten his coat inside. Aww…to hell with it. He didn't need it. He doubted that the winter air could be any colder than the treatment Amanda would give him if he went back inside, anyhow. Rubbing his hands along his forearms, he noticed the cloud his breath was making out in front of him. He followed it over to a bench under a streetlight a few feet away.

The wood was cold and lightly damp. But he didn't plan on sitting for that long anyhow. The numb feeling starting in his fingertips gave him some kind of awkward joy. It reminded him of days long gone, starting into the depths of a fire while his friends slept in a mess of sleeping bags around him. The wind would blow cold, he'd wish he'd never been silly enough to buy fingerless gloves, and Pikachu would cuddle up to his side to provide some warmth. …Speaking of which…

"Crap," Ash mumbled to himself, scrambling to his feet and digging frantically though his trouser pockets. The yellow mouse's less-than-amused face flashed though his mind as he grabbed his cell phone and began to dial a familiar number. It was only seconds until a gravely voice picked up.

"Hello, you've reached the Cerulean Pokémon Daycare. How may I-"

"Hi, this is Ash Ketchum?" Nerves made the end of his sentence pick up like a question. He couldn't believe he had forgotten to write it down on the form again… "I'm sorry, but…uh, I think I forgot to mention something on the, um, little paper thing for when I dropped my Pokémon off. I have a Pikachu?"

A shuffling of papers was heard on the other side of the connection. "Oh. Yes. Well, Mr. Ketchum, I'll have you know that we had quite a time with your little Pikachu when we were rounding up the Pokémon this evening…"

Damn. That's what he had been afraid of. "Well…ya see, my Pikachu is a bit…claustrophobic. You can't put him inside a Pokéball without him really freaking out. I meant to write that i-"

"Information like that is highly important. It is for reasons like this we leave an 'other' section at the bottom of our forms where you can warn us before hand."

Ash cringed. "…'Warn'?"

"Well, seeing how literally half of downstairs is now covered in a layer of soot thanks to the Thunder your Pokémon gave off when we tried to put him in a 'ball for the night, I would say a warning would have been a fair offer. Warnings usually come before something dangerous." Ash gulped as the line went silent for a moment. "…I'm sorry, sir, but I am afraid we cannot watch your Pikachu from now on. There has just been too many issues like this in the past…"

"No! Ma'am!" The young man's eyes widened. "You can't do this! I have a publicity tour in Cerulean that I need to stay on top of, and a lot of places don't let Pokémon in and-"

"I am sorry it has to be this way, sir, but this past night has been the last straw. You will come over and retrieve your Pikachu in an hour, or you will find it sitting lonely on my doorstep. I can no longer endanger the other Pokémon in my care in this way. Goodnight, Mr. Ketchum." And the phone was hung up.

"Hello? Hello! ...Shit." He slammed the phone closed with a loud snap. It was hopeless. How the hell else could he continue the tour with Pikachu always with him? Half the dinner halls only allowed Pokémon inside Pokéballs indoors, and that was obviously not an option. Dragging his fingers through his hair, Ash desperately tried not to panic. There just had to be some other option. Maybe he could call in a friend to help out. Mew knew Ash Ketchum never had a shortage of friends. Damn, who would be available this time of night in Cerule-

…Oh. Wow.

How had he ever forgotten?

…And had it really been that long since he'd last called her?

Looking down at his phone, suddenly feeling a little sick, Ash knew he had found his solution. But he also knew that he was headed into a whole new set of problems. Memories from his last visit to Cerulean City flooded his mind. It hadn't been pleasant, especially when he and Amanda had visited the Gym. Ash had been greeted with quite the colorful vocabulary. Apparently he hadn't been the only one to get older and "wiser". Oh, man… He was in for it.

Ash dug up a familiar number from the dusty corners of his mind. As he dialed, he felt rather like a dead man walking.

Amanda would kill him when he said they'd be meeting Misty again.