This little story (and its companion piece, coming soon) was inspired, in tone and structure, by "Admit the Obsession" from rikachu (aka ladybundtcake), a lovely, bitey vignette from Jessie's POV that you can find in my Favorite Stories. When I started to think about James one day, this is what came out - it's my own most angsty view of Rocketshipping and the obstacles involved. References to "Wherefore Art Thou, Pokémon?" and "Princess vs. Princess."

I Love to Watch Her Sleep
by ShinyAeon

I love to watch her sleep.

I don't fool myself. I know Jessie doesn't lay her sleeping bag so close to mine to watch me sleep. And I know it's bad for me to continually indulge my most insane hopes this way. But I can't seem to help it.

I love the way she looks now.

I must remember this, I think. I must remember, the next time I'm cowering from her legendary temper, that when she sleeps she looks like this. So unguarded, vulnerable. So innocent.

So afraid.

Jessie believes that she has no heart left. At least, she'd like to believe it.

Oh, every now and then she admits that she'd like to be loved, but I think that's mostly so she can indulge in a bit of...melodramatic sorrow. Like when she told us of her past lessons in heartache, when we tried to steal that lovey-dovey pair of Nidoran.

Jessie very rarely shows her true self—when she's awake. But we all need emotions, and if we can't allow ourselves to feel the real ones, well, we'll pretend, and pose with close imitations, so others can see. Look, she thinks, here I am, admitting to you that I'm lonely and looking for love. And yet, you never admitted you loved me. Obviously you didn't want my love badly enough.

There I go, putting words in her mouth again. It's unfair, I know. But I know her so well...and I know (at least I think I know) when what she feels is real.

What she felt that one day, telling us of her romantic woes, was not real. Oh, I don't think she lied; I think her tale was, as they say "based on true events." But when she cried, her tears were not real. They didn't make her eyes swell or her nose run or her voice choke up. They were picturesque tears that left her still beautiful, poised, and whole.

Tears like that...are never real.

Now, what she felt at the Princess Festival was real. When she told us how it was when she was a little girl was utter truth...it's why I told her what I did. I wanted so badly to give her what she hadn't had, but it was out of my power. I could only wish and hope, with all my heart, that she would win.

And she came so close...

I think that was the first time I ever saw her really cry since we were children. It was terrible to see. I had to help her...even Meowth had to. Meowth can be a cynical little thing, but he has a heart. And only someone without one could have failed to feel Jessie's pain then.

I half-wanted to go get that Misty twerp and show her what she'd done. She's one of the Good Guys; if she'd seen Jessie's heartbreak, she'd have to do something about it. Like she did later, when Jessie was sick...leaving us the plant we needed to cure her, despite what we'd tried to do. If I'd brought the Twerpette to see Jessie's misery, she might very well have given Jessie the dolls.

But Jessie...Jessie would have been mortified.

Her sworn enemy, seeing her weak? Feeling pity for her, wanting to comfort her?

She won't even let her best friends see her that way.

No, Jessie would not have accepted the dolls then, not if Pikachu were thrown in with them. Because then they'd be a symbol, not of how far she'd come since her wretched childhood, but of how pitiable she still was.

I couldn't do that to her. Luckily, I thought of something else.

And what she felt when she saw us all in costume, saw what we had done for her...that was real. That smile, with her face upside down to me...I'll never forget it.

At last, I'd made her happy—really, truly happy.

For that one moment, Jessie accepted that her friends loved her.

Keyword: friends.

She doesn't mind friendship. Most of the time. She'll test it constantly, because trust is not in her nature, but she won't reject it outright.

But another kind of love...that's different.

And that brings me back to here and now. In the grey pre-dawn light. Jessie's face less than a foot from mine.

I love to watch her sleep. But it hurts, too.

In sleep, Jessie's true self is revealed. Her sneer fades and her face relaxes, and she looks like a little girl, afraid of the dark.

That's how I know the truth. That is why I'll never confess to her what I really feel.

Romantic love. Because that kind of love requires a level of intimacy that leaves you utterly vulnerable. When I watch her sleep, when her masks are gone, I see how she feels about being vulnerable.

She's terrified.

I've seen Jessie run from intimacy. That's why I don't offer it. I could never bear to frighten her like that.

I could never bear it if she ran away from me.

And so we continue. I can't stop loving her; but I cannot bring myself to scare her away by telling her. And so I will be her friend, her loyal partner, her surrogate brother; I will give her all the love she's not afraid to receive.

But when she sleeps...I see the real Jessie. It's an intimacy, of a sort. It's the closest I can come to her, and so I'll take it; I'm not proud.

I told the truth when I said that I loved it.

I do. I love to watch her sleep.

But it breaks my heart every time.