A/N: This is based on part of the translation of the song "Ware Wa Korekutaa" (I am a Collector) from the Japanese version of the second Pokémon movie. Blackjack Gabbiani also speculated on these words, stating about the Collector, Jirarudan(Lawrence III) that "In his eyes, he is incomplete, and will find what he seeks through his collection." While reflecting on the song lyrics and BG's astute observation, this story was born.

SYNOPSIS: Jirarudan speculates on his life, and on the value and attraction of collecting.

RATING: G

The Incomplete Man.

When people look at me, what do they see?

I was once described as "a proud man with a regal bearing, a sense of style, and looks that some men would kill for." I wear clothes I find comfortable, and yes, I have pride in myself. But I am no king.

Another person described me as "selfish, arrogant and overbearing." How he could make a judgement like that without bothering to talk to me, I do not know. However, it is of no matter.

None of them have any idea. They do not know me, and what they see is an incomplete image. They can only judge me on what they know, what they observe and hear and speculate upon. They do not know me as well as I know myself.

However, I do not know myself entirely, either. This is because I am incomplete.

I could not say when this started. I cannot remember a time when I felt in tune with other people. I cannot recall a time when I was accepted by others for whom I am, when meeting people's eyes was not acutely uncomfortable. I cannot recall a time when I belonged.

The rejection of my peers hurt, and I soon learned that the best way to avoid rejection was to avoid others. They would never understand me, would not even try to understand me. I soon found I preferred to keep the company of just two people-my mother and my father. However, the company I most preferred was my own.

Then a sudden illness took my mother from me. My father retreated into himself with his grief, but I did not find the solitude difficult. I recall that one of the few times I spent in my father's company after my mother's death was when he was going through my mother's things. My mother had, over the years, accumulated a few attractive items-vases and trinkets, and among the latter I was permitted two items that I wished to keep.

The first was my mother's ring. It is a silver ring set with a large pale garnet-of no particular monetary worth, but it comforted me to wear it once I had had it resized to fit my larger finger. Even now I still wear it, on the ring finger of my left hand, the same finger she wore it on. I later found out it was the first piece of jewellery my father gave her when they were courting. For me it serves another purpose, in keeping away unwanted suitors.

The second was an enigma. It was a thin sheet of gold, engraved in the fashion of a game card, with a picture of a Pokémon on it, and it was set with small jewels. It was, and still is, the centrepiece, the most precious part of my collection, and it was in fact with these two items that my collection began. I had my mother's eye for aesthetics, and used my pocket money to buy attractive ornaments and artistic creations, sometimes saving up for months in order to buy one special piece. Family members soon caught on, asking for a list of items I was after, and buying one piece or another for birthdays and Christmas. In this way my collection began to grow. When I came into my maturity, my father introduced me to buying into stocks and shares, taught me how the system worked, and it is something I took to immediately. I seem to have a natural affinity for figures, and my father once told me that I had an uncanny ability to predict what would succeed and what wouldn't, when to hang on to the shares, and when to sell.

Then my father, who had never been the same since my mother's death, also died, and all that he owned came to me. My father was not terrifically rich, but neither was he poor, and as the only child, I inherited his money and everything he owned, including his stocks and shares, and his collection.

Did I mention that my father was also a collector? No, I did not. My father liked models of the planets, and perpetual motion office toys and such, but he had also taken on all of my mother's vases and trinkets, and these things were now mine. I took a great deal of time and care to sort these, and catalogue them, research their histories and any stories behind them. Some of them were extremely valuable or highly sought after. While doing this, I still did the stocks and shares, and also sold some of the more valuable pieces that held no appeal to me. I did not, however, break up any sets, no matter how ugly I might find one particular piece in a set. I wanted any sets in my collection to be complete.

My father had not been so conscientious. I found several incomplete sets of items, and it became my goal to complete these sets. I spent hours searching the pokénet, making contact with other collectors, and even going to the black market in search of those elusive missing items. My perseverance paid off, and one by one, over several years, I found the individual items needed to make a set whole. Every time I did so, it felt like I had found a piece of myself.

Not that I concentrated on these items alone. No, I still bought collectibles and my most expensive purchase was a custom built-for-purpose airship, called the Hikokyu. The name means "flying palace", although, as I have pointed out before, I am no king. Although I had no objection to living as richly as one. What happened to that is another story.

I also had the ability. With one or two exceptions (admittedly, they were large exceptions), all my investments in the stocks and shares did extremely well, and this meant that money was rarely an object. Beauty and rarity is my thing, and the more rare and beautiful an object, the greater my desire to possess it. The greatest prizes are, of course, beautiful and unique.

So what is the attraction of collecting? That is simple. Each time I add an item of desire to my collection, it feels as if I have found another fragment of myself. To collect is to move towards completion.

When I have completed my collection, I will have completed myself.