a/n: And onto Part One, in this exciting installment of Tragic Kingdom, Jessie finds her hero, and discovers that as much as she's changed so has everybody else! Please enjoy!

disclaimer: I don't own pokemon.

Tragic Kingdom: Act I

Part One

Chapter One

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

The address scribbled on the paper stated that the house Jessie was looking for was somewhere in Gold Brook, an upper-class neighborhood somewhere on the outskirts of Saffron City. However Jessie had no idea where that was. Saffron was a huge city, the largest in Kanto, and the business capital. This wouldn't be a bad thing except for how little Jessie knew of Saffron's geography. And she wasn't very confidant either. She wasn't used to traveling or being on the road anymore having been trapped in Vermillion City the last five years. So she neatly folded the square of paper and put it back in her pocket before adjusting the red travel bag that was slung over her shoulder then she disappeared into the crowd of people that throbbed through Saffron Metrorail Station.

She made her way through the hordes of travelers towards the doors, feeling incredibly uncomfortable and claustrophobic in the stuffy hall. People pushed past her without regard, throwing her about as if she were a floundering fish in a fast moving current. She hung onto her bag tightly almost as if it were a lifebuoy. When she finally stepped outdoors onto the street and into the warm summer sun she let out a deep sigh, relieved. She'd made it!

Then her relief faded when she looked at the bustling city that was Saffron. It looked like there even more people, if that were possible, streaming up and down that one street of Saffron City than there were in the station. The place was a huge metropolis of tall buildings and long straight street grids. Jessie didn't like how busy and commercial it was and longed for something more rural and homely.

The short strands of her red hair flipped back in the balmy breeze. She didn't mind that. Saffron had great weather almost year round. It was almost always warm with a complimenting breeze. It was soothing. However the din of the horde and the traffic wasn't.

She stopped at an intersection, to look once more at the address. She had no idea of how to get to the house she was looking for. She looked around hopelessly for someone to give her directions.

The people around her, all going about their own business, ignored the somewhat scruffy looking red head. Even when she tried to speak to them they would avert their eyes. She sighed, and then caught sight of herself in the reflective side of a building. She looked like a beggar. There was no way she could go to his house looking the way she did let alone ask for help from a Saffroner.

A car zoomed past hooting loudly.

She looked in her purse to see if she had any money to buy proper clothes. Even though she knew there was nothing there. She half imagined a puff of dust and a half dead fly came whizzing out of her empty purse. She'd spent it all on the train ride here.

Shit. What now?

She leaned against a wall, sinking to the floor. Someone walking past made a face. The sidewalks were as dirty as anything but so was Jessie so she didn't mind.

She pulled out the paper with the address on it again. 23 Crystal Shrub Avn, Gold Brook. Was it so difficult to find? She knitted her brow. And for that matter was she so easy to defeat? Wasn't she the same Jessie that used to work for the infamous Team Rocket? Wasn't she the same Jessie with the legendary temper? Well, wasn't she? Even if it was six years ago the old Jessie couldn't have died altogether. There must still be a little bit of life left within her. There must be! She would try again.

She curled her fist. The summer sun shone brightly.

It was strange, she thought that she found it difficult to do such a simple thing as find someone's house when she'd been through so much worse. The last few years had been a living hell. A nightmare that was real. She was still amazed that she was alive today, that she was still breathing and still able to see the colour of the sun and feel the coolness of a breeze after all she'd been through. Only a few days ago, all those things had been numb to her. She'd stopped seeing in color, feeling things physical and emotional, tasting, and scent. Comprehendible thought. Those things had left her. Until a few days ago. She'd escaped.

Someone knocked into her. She fell to the ground, winded. Her bag fell off her shoulder. She gasped and grabbed at it before it was knocked away by the crowd. She clung to it, refusing to let go.

The person who'd bumped her, a man, didn't even stop to help her up. He disappeared into the crowd just as quickly as he'd appeared out of nowhere. Jessie got up once more, brushing herself off and staring into the crowd after him. But he was gone.

If it was the old Jessie of six years ago she might have screamed at him or even rough him up on the streets but she wasn't. She left it and continued on her way, feeling a deep sense of self-disgust well up inside her. She really wasn't the old Jessie anymore. There might not even be anything left of the old one.

Hours later Jessie still hadn't found her destination and her nervousness was starting to become panic. The confidence and determination she'd worked up before had faded and she was left feeling empty and hopeless.

What to do? What to do? She quivered. The traffic was loud and overwhelming. How she hated the cities!

The sun had set about a half hour before. Evening had come and the air had cooled considerably. Jessie was dressed lightly. Goosebumps rippled up and down her arms. She tugged the sleeves of her t-shirt so that they would cover a little more skin but it was useless. She really was getting desperate.

She had stopped for a short break, hugging herself beneath a street light, shivering, whilst people passed by. She noted that there weren't as many people as before. The crowds had dwindled and now only youths were on the streets. Young people looking for fun and alcohol. Maybe they'd be more receptive to her?

"Excuse me?" She asked of a young man walking with a group of friends down the street. "Could you tell me where Gold Brook is? I'm not from here and-"

"Why are you looking for Gold Brook? Have you got 'work' there?" He asked smirking. His friends laughed appreciatively. Nothing and no one was sacred when teenagers wanted to joke.

She narrowed her eyes, quickly catching on to where he was going. She bristled internally but she also needed his help so instead she sighed and said, "I'm not a prostitute. Please tell me where Gold Brook is?"

He laughed. "Sure lady. I'm sure you're just out for my wallet. Well here let me make it easier for you." He flicked a note at her. It fluttered to her feet. P$100. She was mildly horrified at how rude he was. It was amazing how people treated you when your clothes looked dirty and your hair wasn't washed, she thought.

He and his friends laughed raucously and continued walking. She ignored their comments, waiting. When she was sure they were gone she picked up the note and pocketed it. It really wasn't much but maybe it could get her a taxi ride some of the way. She couldn't believe how low she'd sunk…

The streets were still busy with cars. Now she turned her attention to waving down a taxi.

It was easier than she thought, a red cab pulled up beside her, and she didn't even have to hitch her skirt up. She got into the cab and said, "Crystal Shrubs Avn, Gold Brook please." The driver regarded her critically, lighting her with self-consciousness, but he set off down the street anyway. They made no conversation. She just looked out the window, watching the people.

She hoped that her measly P$100 would get her that far and she watched the meter with unease. They'd barely got down the street when her budget ran out. She decided that when she got to Crystal Shrubs she'd jump out of the car and run for it. It was the only thing she could think of. After all she used to be a member of Team Rocket, these sort of things came naturally for her…

They drove for what felt like hours. It appeared that she'd been going in the wrong direction altogether. The driver had driven in the direction opposite to the one that she'd been going in and then out of the city altogether and into the suburban areas. The scenery shift was noticeable. Where there had been tall skyscrapers and grey slate sidewalks there were now houses and green lawns and trees.

Jessie watched with longing. She would love to live in her own house. It didn't matter where. She'd practically been imprisoned for the last five years and to have her own place would be the ultimate symbol of her new freedom. Jessie decided that that was her goal for the year.

Just as she had noticed the city become the suburbs she now noticed the middle class homes become upper-class. The houses became considerably larger as did their gardens and the extravagance of their architecture. Jessie stared open mouthed at the huge arched gates of one mansion that looked as if it had been built from the clouds downward it was so large. And there were so many lights. Clearly the rich loved to illuminate all of their possessions. Almost everything was spotlit, so much so that the stars above were dimmed by their splendor.

Eventually the cab eased into a street that ended in a cul de sac. The sign read "Crystal Shrubs Avenue" in fancy gold script. Jessie's stomach clenched in excitement and in anxiety. It was now that she'd have to jump out of the cab and make a break for it. The driver turned back in his seat.

"Where did you say you wanted to be dropped?" He asked.

Jessie took a steadying breath internally before yanking the door open, tossing the P$100 at him and shouting, "Here!" She spilled out of the cab, dragging her bag along with her. The driver yelled and tried to open his own door to jump after her but found it to be locked. He fumbled, swearing.

She looked around wildly trying to plan her escape route. The street was lined with houses on each side of the road and a thick hedge grew just in front of the houses like a wall separating them from the sidewalks. The house nearest to Jessie had a huge iron fence running its perimeter. She bolted.

"Hey!" He barked as she began to run away. "Stop!"

But she'd already scarpered into the trimmed hedges along the road. She scrambled wildly through the shrub, getting horribly nicked and scratched, before she made contact with a hard something. It was the iron fence. She pressed against it as hard as possible, as if she was trying to compress herself, knowing that she had nowhere to run. She could hear the taxi driver swearing and shouting. She listened in terror, holding onto her body that was shivering out of control. Her senses were going crazy. Her blood was pounding in her ears. She couldn't see much what with the darkness and the density of the hedge all around her but then something white and blinding seared her eyes.

The taxi driver had a torch. She saw the beam of light searching through the bushes.

What was worse was that the driver himself began to tread through the hedge searching. He came closer.

She pulled her body tighter, trying her best to take up the least amount of space possible. She held her breath until her lungs threatened to explode as the torch light wandered dangerously past her feet.

"Where are you?" She could hear him muttering furiously. "Come out! I won't turn you in if you just pay me my money!"

He stopped in front of her. She held as still as possible. Slowly he turned his head from side to side, the torch light following his gaze, she noted how his nose twitched as if he was trying to sniff her out. Someone in one of the houses slammed a door and the driver jumped. Jessie let out a small gasp of shock.

The driver's head snapped toward the sound. "I know you're here!" He shouted. He moved away from her and continued to search. She let herself breathe.

After a few horror-filled minutes the taxi driver switched off his torch and got into his car and she heard the engine growl into life.

He drove away.

She wanted to get up and move but she had a feeling that the driver was still waiting. He'd driven away as a ruse but was probably just waiting on the corner of the street for her to come out. Then he'd run her down and maybe call the police.

She decided that it was safer to wait it out.

She didn't own a watch so she had no idea of how much time was passing or even what time it was currently. She could only count the seconds in her head. When she got into numbers so high that she lost count she decided it might be safe to venture out again.

Her hands were shaking and her stomach was clenched again with reluctance but she forced herself to crawl slowly out of the hedge. She was scratched and pulled back by the branches and leaves of the hedge as she had been when she had first hurtled in. She peered cautiously up and down the road. No one. Still cautious she moved, hunchbacked, down the pavement, dangling her bag just above the ground so it didn't drag or make a noise.

She noted the house number of the first gate she passed: 16. Before progressing she looked back down the road. Nothing. Nobody. The next house was number 14 so she knew she was going the wrong way. She turned around slowly, watching. Still no one.

In fact there were no cars in the road at all nor any people strangely. She ran as quietly as possible and as quickly as she could with her back bent down back up the avenue. Every time she heard a noise, maybe the hoot of a noctowl or the bark of a growlithe she thought it was the driver and jumped an inch out of her skin. It wasn't luckily.

The house numbers flashed by and when she looked up she saw number 22. She was searching for 21. That meant that the house she was looking for was across the street! She was so close! After everything she'd gone through to get here! Just a street width away from a goal!

She took in a deep breath, adjusted her bag, glanced carefully down the street one last time. Still no one. She decided that the taxi driver must have left. She straightened up. Straightened her clothes and started to cross the street. The house she was looking for was the one in the middle of the cul de sac. It was certainly the largest house of them all. The grandest.

It was a triple story affair, coloured a pale creamy tan, and about as fancy as anything Jessie had ever seen. The huge gates looked like they were made from gold and they guarded a huge garden with the house in the very centre. There was a long drive way, typically lined with trees, which led all the way up to the house whereupon it ended as a circle that had a running fountain in the middle of it. The entrance took the form of set of wooden double doors that could be accessed by a short flight of stone steps. Everything was doused in a soft light. All in all it was rather exorbitant.

Are the gates really made of gold, she wondered. Then she realized. The gates! How was she going to get in!

The hottest rap sensation B-rock looked reluctantly up from the book he was reading and said to his ex-security guard, "James, I think there's someone at the gate. Can you have someone get that?"

The ex-security guard, James, looked up from his own reading, a police file on Vermillion City prostitutes, and said while hitting his forehead with his palm as if he'd forgotten something, "Damn, I forgot to tell you. All the staff, except for Rosette, are on leave for the League Season. They all went home yesterday. I'll have to go and see who it is for myself."

"Really? I'm sure I saw Alfred at the gates this morning when I came back from the store." B-rock replied lazily his primary focus was back on his book and he didn't look up this time.

"Hm. I'll go check anyway." James murmured thoughtfully and tried to get up from his seat. He was hindered some by the huge white cat pokemon sprawled across his lap. Said cat snarled when James tried to nudge him off his lap.

"Hey what's the big deal?" The Persian yawned, stretching his long slender limbs and climbing off his cushion, James. "I was having myself a good nap!"

It was quite unusual for a pokemon, any pokemon, to be capable of human speech including psychic pokemon, who could lift fridges with their minds, but couldn't actually speak; they communicated through telepathy. Most pokemon could only say the syllables of their names but here was a Persian speaking fluent English. Not only that but he spoke too much.

"You can go back to sleep only this time you won't have me to lie on, thank goodness." James said to the pokemon, who stuck out his tongue in reply and then proceeded to fall back asleep on the couch, his head rolling and his paw dangling to the floor.

James rolled his eyes. "You'd be sleeping in the yard if your claws weren't so sharp."

The cat, without opening his eyes, said, "And don't you forget it…"

James left the room smirking. He made his way across the landing and down the grand staircase. B-rock's house was a sprawling mansion with a huge entrance hall that had a grand stair case and massive double doors. The floors were marble. It was extravagant but James had to admit the guy really knew how to live in style.

Since the security room was on the other side of the house James decided it would be quicker to see who was at the gate by physically going outside instead of just looking on the monitor. He left through the huge double doors and descended yet another flight of stone steps into the garden. The drive way was lined with trees and at the very end of it were the gold painted front gates.

James was alarmed to see Alfred, the gate guard who had apparently not taken leave, dragging someone out of the grounds. He hurried over to see what was going on. The 'intruder' was struggling against Alfred's tight grip. The flailing figure screamed fiercely and demanded to be let go. James was even more alarmed to hear it was a woman.

"Let me go! Please! I just want to meet the guy who lives here! Please!" She cried, struggling.

"So why didn't you come in through the gates instead of over them?" Alfred retorted, trying his best to hold onto her. She was a little bit like a wild cat, stringy but tough.

Alfred noticed James coming nearer and a look of visible relief came over his face.

"Sir!" He cried, panting at the effort of keeping the girl from bolting. "I found this girl on the premises I think she's some B-rock stalker. Stop struggling! I swear I'll call the police on ya!" The last part was obviously directed at the girl who glared at him and didn't abate her struggling. He shoved her. Hard. She choked out a cry.

James held out a hand in sympathy. "Alfred please-"

"Should I throw her out, sir?" Alfred asked.

James stared at the wild girl, ignoring Alfred. She looked oddly familiar. Very familiar. She reminded him of someone. That red hair. Such a distinctive colour…

"Jessie…" He whispered. But it really couldn't be her. His Jessie might not even be alive…he hadn't seen her in six years. He hadn't spoken to her…not since that terrible day…

James frowned, pushing his current thoughts to the back of his mind, they were distracting and painful, he needed to focus on the situation at hand. "What were you doing on our premises?" He asked the girl, who stopped struggling briefly to look at him. At that moment, that pivotal moment when their eyes met he could've sworn his heart had stopped. Her eyes were blue. Jessie's blue. He was sure of it.

James blinked. It wasn't her. It wasn't. But then…

"I'm here to see a man named James!" She yelled desperately. That hair, those eyes, she was here to see a man named James. Could it really be? And then he saw.

"Jessie?" James asked, slowly, carefully, as if her name was a cold body of water and he was testing the water by dipping in an experimental toe.

The girl stared back at him, recognition dawning in her expression. "James?" She whispered, tears rolling down her face.

James, when reflecting on the moment that followed, never remembered exactly what happened next. He remembered shoving Alfred to the side, so hard that the man fell on the ground, he remembered taking Jessie in his arms and holding her, while she cried. But everything else he forgot. It was only about half an hour later when he was drinking a strong double espresso that things became clear again.

The coffee was too hot, it singed his tongue, but he was too numb to notice. His eyes were fixed on the woman sitting opposite him. He disregarded her appearance, one of a dirty ragged clothed woman, and looked only at her eyes. So blue.

A clock ticked in the background.

His thoughts were of a dusky evening sky, such a moody shade of blue, but so beautiful. So delicate and mystical.

His brow creased. "Did he hurt you? Was he too rough?" He asked her, referring to Alfred's treatment of her a half hour earlier. "I'll having him fired, if you want. How dare he!" He angrily gulped a mouthful of steaming coffee and then realized how hot it was he had to spit it out again. Jessie let out a breath of a laugh.

"Don't fire him. It's fine." She said,

"I can't believe it's you James. I…" She closed her eyes and tears began to fall down her cheeks. "I can't believe it."

He went around the table to her and hugged her again. Surprised actually because the two of them had barely ever hugged in such an intimate way when they were still Team Rocketers back in the old days. In the old days Jessie was a sturdy girl.

But when he hugged her now he felt how skinny she was and how bony her body had become.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, lessening the strength of his hug because he was afraid he'd break her. She felt very fragile. Like a small little child.

She clung to him tighter. "Don't. I'm okay."

"No you're not." He pulled out of the hug and looked at her again, this time at all of her. He noticed now her condition, how terrible her clothes were, how dirty she was, how thin.

"Are you hungry?" He asked her, getting up to go and prepare food. She shook her head even as she felt the ripple of hunger run through her stomach. She needed to talk to him first.

"James, I need to tell you what happened. I need to talk to you." She said, grabbing hold of one of his hands and gazing at him.

James opened his mouth to reply when he heard B-rock calling from the lounge. "Hey James who was at the gate?"

"Hey Brock, come down here! And Persian!" James yelled back.

Jessie raised her eyebrows. "Brock? As in Brock Slate? The twerp's friend…? Persian?"

James smirked. It was like nostalgia. Jessie calling Brock 'the twerp's friend' made him realize how much he'd forgotten. "The twerps" were Team Rocket's old nickname for Ash Ketchum's little gang. He didn't even see Brock like that anymore. The twerps…

"What're you laughing at?" Jessie asked him curiously.

"I'm just remembering when we were still Team Rocket chasing after Ash-I mean the twerp's- Pikachu. I missed it." He replied.

"Me too. Sometimes it seems like it was more fun than actual crime." Said Jessie.

"That's a good way to put it. I don't think we ever got away with anything."

Jessie smiled. "We were always…"

"Blasting off again." They said together. James chuckled.

"Ah the good old days…"

There were voices coming down the passage outside the kitchen. Jessie readied herself. She was curious to see how Brock looked these days. She wondered if he had changed as much as she had. Then he came into the room and she had to raise her eyebrows.

He'd gotten taller and his clothes were different. He was wearing a get-up Jessie could only describe as gangster, no not gangster, 'gangsta.' He was wearing bling, gold and flashing under the light. It disturbed her in a way. People can change so much and so fast. It made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her. What James saw. She didn't want to look at his face for fear that she would see to much difference in it for her to handle but she did.

At first she was shy. Slowly lifting her eyes to meet his. They were still Brock's eyes. The eyes she knew from when they were all still teenagers.

"You're still the same!" She murmured and James lifted an eyebrow, being the only one who heard her.

He was the same. His face had aged a little, he looked like an adult now instead of a teen but his features were still kind and…Brock-like.

"Hey- so who was at the…woah!" Brock stopped dead in the doorway. Behind him Persian yowled as he'd just walked into Brock's legs.

"Move it will yas?" Persian snarled.

"Jessie?" Brock asked incredulously.

"The name's Persian. PERSIAN. You insane, Brocko?" said the cat poking his head in the doorway besides Brock's legs. He paused, noticing Jessie sitting at the table. Their eyes met. A clash of amber and blue. It was as if electricity crackled through the room.

"Holy-!" Persian swore harshly, gaping at Jessie who gaped back.

"Meowth, Meowth is that you? You-you evolved?" She was speechless. Her memory recalled a knee high Meowth that walked on two legs, clumsy and slick at the same time. Now he was a Persian, elegant, slick all round and all youthful clumsiness gone. He walked like a hunter now, on all fours.

Persian just gaped dumbly.

Brock smiled apologetically. "Don't mind him he's usually this brain dead." And used his foot to slide Persian out of the room. This earned him a swipe from the cat's deadly claws.

"Watch it Brocko, you're getting too cocky for my liking…" He snarled and padded over to Jessie who fell onto the floor and threw her arms around his neck.

"I missed you so much, Meowth! I missed you so much…" She started to cry again. "You don't even know how much I wanted to see you guys again. Even you twerp." She said to Brock, but she was smiling when she said it albeit weakly.

James folded his arms, he turned his face looking away as tears leaked from his own eyes.

Even Persian was crying. "Why are you making me cry, Jessie?" He sniffed.

"Why are you making me cry, Meow-Persian?" She replied, hugging him tighter so that his eyes bulged a little.

"Erm, air! Jessie I need air!" He meowed and she let him go, lips pursed apologetically.

"You look amazing! Like a real pokemon!"

Persian scowled. "So what was I before? A pokedoll?"

"Don't tease him Jessie he's very sensitive." Brock smirked. "Aren't you, little Persian-wersian?"

"Yeah, he didn't mature at all when he evolved." James added, smirking also. Jessie was slightly in awe of how much more confidant James seemed, he seemed to have, just like Meowth, evolved. He had a quiet kind of strength to him, endearing, Jessie thought, and yet with that confidence came a kind of sadness.

He moved slower than she remembered, without the lightness of a child, without the careless happiness he used to have. He was more controlled. She smiled sadly.

James and Brock noticed this. The latter immediately felt that indescribable gut feeling that meant he needed to leave the room. He wondered if it maybe wasn't the best time to be hanging around. They probably wanted to be alone. This was a reunion he wasn't invited to…He had started to inch out of the room but James shook his head. "Please. Stay." He mouthed. Obviously the man needed some support. Brock patted him on the back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He was feeling kind of uncomfortable.

Then Jessie began to tell her story, of how she'd escaped, and how she found him and he felt even worse.

"She's different."

"She's changed."

"Her clothes are dirty."

"Her hair's short."

"She's too skinny."

"She looks so sad."

"She's poor."

"She's been abused."

"I can't stand it."

"I won't tolerate it."

"We have to do something."

"What can we possibly do?"

"Let her stay with us."

"Are you crazy? A female? Living with us?"

"Are you serious? It's Jessie, she's not a…"

"…"

"Okay, fine, she's a female, but she needs my help, our help, she's got nowhere to go. She has no money, or family to stay with. What is she supposed to do? Have you seen how thin she is? She hasn't eaten in weeks, months. I've seen beggars look better than she does. Can't we just let her stay with us for a year or two until she gets back on her feet? She needs us…please, Brock…"

The two men stood on Brock's enormous half-circle balcony that looked out over the whole estate. Brock leaned against the creamy marble railing, his hand tracing the ornate carvings of its surface as he thought about their predicament.

James stood a short ways away, staring over Brock's head at the velvet night sky, awash with diamond stars. His hair flickered in the breeze but he barely noticed how cold it was. He only wanted to help Jessie. He could only think of how bony her ribs were. Of how she held onto him so tightly it seemed she was afraid she would disappear if she let go. He thought of memory and the past and how Team Rocket had broken the girl he had once thought of as the central pillar to his world. How it had crumbled after she was gone. Everything in pieces and scattered across the earth . Slowly he had managed to rebuild himself and his world, but had she? He chuckled mirthlessly. It was ironic. Now, he would have to put her back together.

But to do that he needed to convince Brock, who for some reason, was wary of women. Or at the very least living with a woman. At the back of James' mind he felt a prickle of curiosity that he quickly suppressed. Brock's shadowed past could wait, Jessie's uncertain future needed his attention more. He cast around for an argument in her favour but Persian got there first.

The ghostly cat appeared from nowhere, suddenly slinking along the balcony towards Brock. Oh look the cavalry's arrived, James found himself thinking inexplicably. Brock caught sight of Persian in his peripherals and visibly winced. The cat grinned.

"Hey Brocky-boy, how's the discussion goin'? Is Jessie getting the guest room with that nice view of the swimmin' pool or what?" He asked.

Brock's eyebrows were knotted. "Not exactly. I'm still not sure I want a woman in the house with us."

"Oh come on you didn't moind last night." Persian replied. He winked at James who bit his lip to hold back a grin. They had him there.

Brock flushed. "That's different. She didn't move in with us. She wasn't sharing our bathrooms…"

"But she was sharing your bed…" James muttered but Brock didn't hear him.

"…or eating our cereal…or hogging the television…insisting we do things her way…controlling our bedtimes…" He went on in that fashion while James and Persian exchanged glances. Eventually Persian clogged Brock's verbal diarrhea.

"Brock, stop, please. This is torture." He held up a paw to further illustrate his meaning. "Let her stay for a week, we'll figure somethin' out 'til then. You'd be doin' us a favwour. I neva knew the Brock to be so cold hearted…"

James had been thinking the same thing and was glad that Persian mentioned it. He stared at Brock, awaiting his response, while Brock looked strained and a little sad. Was there…? James wondered but pushed it out of his mind, he saw Persian's shining cat eyes watched through the dim light.

The minutes stretched by until finally Brock sighed. "Okay."

James whooped, jumping on the spot, and pulled his friend into a hug. Persian meowed loudly and sprang onto Brock's back, wrapping his huge paws around Brock's shoulders.

James pulled away, smiling. "Thank you."

Yes, I know you enjoyed that chapter! You must've! It had potential Rocketshippy action, and Meowth is a Persian! And...Brock is a rapper? Yup, it gets even better, we haven't even gotten to Ash, Misty and Pikachu yet! Please review! I really would like to know what people think of my writing style in this fic, and of my characters, because although I don't own them I feel like I've changed them alot...

Tell me what you think! :D