I'm sure you don't want the usual rating on, so I'll just get down to
business.
Big thanks to Heironeous and Cultnirvana once again for their checking and patience, this'd be unreadable without them! And of course hugs to all reviewers!
On with the show.
Where the River Flows - Chapter IV
11.45PM, July 22nd - I guess when I look back on it, it was this night, lain in the quiet darkness thinking, that was the light to the candle. The candle which has melted down day by day, seemingly unnoticed.
My eyes flick to the clock for the hundredth time in the last hour, to see it still proclaiming the middle of the night. I just can't sleep. I've tried laying on my back, on my side, on my front, with my arm under the pillow, with my thumb in my mouth, even with my knees to my chin and hands laced under my thighs, although that was never likely to work. I've tried counting stars in the night sky, sheep, ducks, Pikachus, snores, breaths, humming lullabies, romantic tunes, even Metallica. (Didn't expect that to work either). But no, the shroud of sleep remains as elusive as a really nice tasting vegetable. Now that was an odd thing to think. I mean I've never found a vegetable I really like, although potatoes come close if cooked the right way, but what does that have to do with getting to sleep? What does any of this have to do with getting to sleep? Ah, it's useless. I roll over, slowly sit up, and look at the sleeping face of the one I love, child-like in the darkness, hair falling across the face, obscuring sleeping eyes. There is nothing as innocent as someone encased in a dreamland, utterly blind to the outside world. It's where I wish I was at this time of the morning. Perhaps I would be dreaming about us being together, about romantic strolls in the twilight, about an all-enveloping hug to blind me from all the worries in my world. God knows there are enough of them. Even though I may conceal them from the others, they never seem to leave me. It's times like this, a sleepless night with the moon staring back at me, that I really think. About past and future. What the future holds, and what the past is holding. The past sure has it's hands full, but does the future just have it's fingers clutching at nothing? It's easy to be paranoid when nothing is certain, like walking in the fog. I might make the same mistakes as I had before, not really get anywhere. I might really make something of myself, but am I afraid of change? Or am I just clinging onto life as it is like it's a teddy bear, sucking on my thumb to ignore the inevitable bitter pills which I'll need to swallow if I am to progress?
("Fishy fishy.") Pikachu murmurs drowsily, rolling over onto her front, before resuming her snoring. That's totally derailed my train of thought, thankfully. Fishy fishy? I don't think I want to know. Since it's her dream, I doubt I will. I resist the urge to giggle. Weird how schizophrenic the mind can be so late at night. Something about that was so funny. ("Uhhh, slimy, slimy fishies.") Now I do giggle. Just a moment ago I was working myself into a panicky frenzy, and now I'm laughing about Pikachu's subconscious fear of fish. Odd, that. I've always thought that laughing and crying were complete opposites, but maybe not. I mean, hysterical can mean both with laughter and tears. It's almost like they are linked. If something is really funny I've cried at the sheer joy of it, yet when something really painful happened, like when I lost my grandmother, when I first found out I felt like laughing. Not laughing with delight, but I just felt..like I wanted to laugh. I actually did when I got to my room, for about a minute, before the giggles changed wordlessly to whimpers. Why? I couldn't say. She was always so close to me, closer than almost anyone else, yet my first feeling was almost euphoric. But it was just the calm before the storm, the silver lining to the thunder cloud. Really odd. So, where was I before all that? Ahh, I don't know. Maybe I should just lay down in bed again, and try to dream of fish myself. I sink back down and twist wind the blanket between my legs, and then clutch tightly to the top of it, pulling it to my chest. As a substitute for a person to hold, it's okay. Just makes me feel secure, so that when I close my eyes once again, I might just dream that I'm holding that special someone instead.
It's early morning. It must be, as the sun is shining through the window from low in the sky, just popping over the buildings opposite, straight into my face. Great, who didn't close the curtains last night? Come to think of it, what happened last night? I get the feeling I've been awake at some point, but for how long I don't know, it feels like I've not slept at all. The last thing I remember with any clarity was a Lapras. After I hit my head on the floor. Oh, a headache is just starting now, and it's already promising to be a killer. Erm, and there was something about a Joker too, but I'm not sure. I creak an eyelid open gently, trying to avoid being dazzled. The others are all snoozing away happily. So, I know who I am, where I am, and sort of what is going on. So, what next? Finding out the time? Okay. I ease up into a sitting position, and from there I get uneasily to my feet. In response the headache moves from pulsing intensity to thumping, with promise of further development. The only clock I can see is the one between Ash's and Misty's bed. Is it worth putting any clothes on to check? Well, not if it tells me I should go back to sleep. I drop the blanket I'd pulled up with me, and scoot around Ash to check. Quarter to six in the morning. Great. Well, at least I won't have to wait for too long. To be honest, this is nice, I always used to enjoy early mornings at home before anyone was awake. It was just about all the freedom I could get. And standing in a hotel room bathed in dawn sun is something I think everyone should try. A sniffle from a sleeper reminds me that I'm not alone, and I hurry back to my bed, and search for my bag. There it is, at the foot of the bed. Right, first up, underwear, a cleanish pair.no dice. So, the ones with minimal odour then. I really should have tried to get more than four sets of briefs before I left, though it's not like I had much chance. Hmmm, the new ones are probably the best bet, the rest were pretty well worn before I left home. I slip my feet into them, pull them on swiftly. In fact, I used to deliberately get up as early as I could stand it, it afforded me a little peace, and I could watch the sun rise over the Cerulean Sea. Before my family, if you could call it that, woke up. Then the day used to take a definite downturn. I tut to myself as I reach down into my bag for a bra which could still bend without cracking. Eeesh, laundry day is undoubtedly overdue.
("Uhhhnn.. ..") Cyndaquil, the only other member of the room who is facing the window, moans sleepily and turns his head. Quickly I scurry over to the window and pull the thick blue curtains shut, cloaking the room in shadow, and smile as he settles back down again. My sudden burst, however, is rewarded with the headache increasing to a bloody ridiculous level. I go back to my bed and sit down on it, my brain seeming to creak more than the springs of the busted mattress. It's only when I look at it with a headache I realise this room is a bit of a dump. The beds have seen better days, even the walls look shabby. My hands work of their own accord, dressing me without conscious thought as I scan my surroundings. The net curtains could do with a wash, mind you, you couldn't hardly see through the ones which used to hang around my windows. Compared to my bedroom, this place is almost a palace. A green pair of shorts are on now, and a round-necked T- shirt has found it's way onto my body. Back to front. Always the same, dressing without thinking about it. Something ends up out of place.
"Um, what time is it?" Ash mutters sleepily, and without looking at me, rolls over to look at his clock. "Too early, way too early. Maybe I could just get baaa.. .." His murmurings are interrupted by a huge yawn. ".. ..aaack to sleep.. .." At about that moment, a breath of wind gasps through the closed curtains and spreads them, sending a laser shaft of light into his face. "Ah, bloody sun!" He rolls away from the light, and his eyes meet mine.
"Good morning." I feel a smile walk onto my face, and my cheeks heat up. I don't know why, it's not like me to get bashful or anything. "The same thing woke me up, blasted sun doesn't wait for long before it gets everyone awake in the summer." He gives a sleepy smile, lifting his head up and propping it on his hand. His hair, shaggy and unstyled, slips over one eye and looks so tousled that it's almost forming a knot. It's also hard to ignore his quite muscular arm, and a rather toned chest peeking out from under the blanket.
"You feeling better this morning?" I nod, my own grin fading quickly.
"Yeah. I can't remember much. Just falling over." He looks like he's thinking, and I'm instantly on my guard.
"So you don't remember me coming back in then?" I feel my eyes harden, face become featureless as a wall, voice grow toneless, my natural response to questioning.
"No."
"Oh, okay." He pauses, before adopting a gentler tone. "I was wondering, would you like to come to the pub for lunch later.. .." A little bird twitters a warning in my ear, but too late to stop me snipping him short.
"No."
"Okay, keep your voice down, it is early in the morning you know." He chides quietly, before shooting me a piercing look. "But why don't you want to come in for lunch? Apparently they do a really good pie and chips. Well, they do anything as long as it can either come with chips and peas, or can be classed as a curry." I just shrug.
"I don't like pubs much." I make it sound simple, what I want to say is I despise them, hate them, vomit when I think of one.
"Why?" I hate that word.
"Just because." I can see he's unconvinced.
"Hazel, last night, when I came in.. ..I came to check on you as you were lying on the bed." Alarm bells start ringing in my head. This doesn't sound good, no, this sounds bad. Quick, start thinking of ideas, get a head start. It's several seconds before I notice Ash has been watching my reaction closely, and I know my daze has already told him more than my denial could.
"What happened?" I curse the slip. It just shows that I'm worried, that there might just be something I'm protecting.
"Well, when I came in, ah, oh forget about it." He lays back down, looking like he's going to sleep again.
"No, tell me."
"Why are you so desperate to know?" Shit! I lock eyes with him, and grab the best answer which I can.
"Because I've known enough backstabbers to not want anyone to know what I don't, right?" I reply in an indignant growl, a pang of anger flitting into me. I hate it, hate it when I'm caught with a weakness.
"Like who?"
"There were lots of them."
"Lots?" I feel my anger grow hotter, and raise my voice to almost a shout.
"Yes, lots! Are you deaf or something?!" His head snaps around, looking to the others in the room, and then turns again at the sight of four sleeping bodies.
"Hazel, keep your voice down." He mutters, suddenly sounding brisk.
".. ..Okay."
"I know full well you don't want a certain person to wake up while you're talking." I bristle at the "you're", and decide to try and end it.
"I don't want to be talking at all, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to run myself a bath." I slip myself off the bed, hearing him sigh in frustration, and strut towards the bathroom entrance after grabbing my bag.
"Hazel?" I pause, hand on the handle of the broken door, and look up. He fixes me with a quick stare, before his whole appearance seems to soften, and he slips me a gentle smile. "Make sure you don't slip, I don't want you getting hurt again." He adds a wink, and I feel my face start to heat up, a blush spreading from my chest and spreading upwards with the speed of a hurricane, and with the same unstoppability.
"I'll make sure, Ash." With a grin I'm through the door and it's shut behind me, with the bag propped against it. Only then do I allow a tiny sigh, allow my eyelids to close delicately with wordless delight. How is it just a little smile and a few kind words can do this to me? Or is it just because he's the one saying it? For a second I imagine it just being Ash and me, and my wild fantasies coming true.. .. But it's time to get back to the present, and run that bath. It's a little early for one, but it's not a treat I've had often, even including last night. And besides, I have to keep up the idea that I wasn't just coming in here as a cover that I didn't want him to know something. Yet a few little thoughts keep nagging me as I set the water running and get undressed. He knows something. And he's not going to be fooled by a few denials. And I want someone to run to, talk to, even cry to. And I think I trust him.. .. do I? Ah, to hell with it. I dip one toe in the water and check it's not too hot, before stepping into the part-full tub and sitting down. It's too early in the morning for thinking, especially when I've got a headache, and the thoughts are unwanted.. ..
I prick my ears up, trying to pick out a delicate noise that had drifted into them from upon the breeze. Nothing more, so I pick up my gaze and scan around, interested. It's not a threatening noise, but it was familiar, and it'll itch all day unless I find it's source. Ah, there, right up in that tree, a nest. As I watch, a tiny head peeks out of the side, and gives a plaintive cheep.
"What is it Pikachu?" Ash crouches down and sights along where I'm pointing, before a slight smile tweaks at his mouth. "They're a bit late hatching, aren't they? Well, it sounds like they want their dinner, and they might not get it if we stay by here, so let's move along." I nod in response, and hop further along the path. We've been staying in that village for a few days rest, and today Ash decided to go for a walk. Hazel said she wanted to go shopping, and Misty said she's got a bit of a cold, and can't find the energy. So, it's just Ash and me, well, Chikorita and Cyndaquil are here too, but they're off out of sight somewhere.
("Gorgeous day.") I sigh, stopping to breathe deeply, sampling the fine taste of clear mountain air, perfumed by wild scents which can't be captured by a bottle.
"It is, really gorgeous." Strolling along a worn path, alongside a stream just visible through a line of trees. It's sort of a valley, there are great grassy hills either side of us which become more rocky at the very edge of my vision, but the valley bottoms out and flattens, leaving a long, thin strip of flat land between them, weaving it's way along the stream. Long grass sways lazily, here and there a field of wheat rustles, tress scattered around like someone has planned some massive join the dots puzzle out of the land itself, to be viewed from a great height. The bubbling of the water running as the path moves right onto the riverbank only adds to the tranquillity, tranquillity which is almost celestial. Clear and flawless as a sheet of glass.
("Boo!") A sheet of glass that is shattered by the hammer that is Chikorita, launching herself out of a clump of weeds and into me, bundling me over and straight into the stream, which is fortunately only a foot deep.
("Bastard! This is cold!") I howl as she rights herself with a cheeky grin. I fling myself back up onto the bank, ready to give her a good smack but hold off as, unseen behind her, hands reach down and pick her up quickly. I give Ash a wink, followed by drawing my forefinger across my throat and pointing to Chikorita. It's wind up time.
"Now that wasn't nice, was it? Why should you deserve any treats when you go and do that to her?!" With a few angry words her cheeky aura fades quick as a sunlight fades behind a cloud, and is replaced by abject misery. Ash raises her to eye level, and just looks at her sternly, almost glaring for a moment. In response she almost shrivels, like dry leaves on a bonfire. "Well, was it?" Ash repeats coolly, shooting me another wink as her eyes look away, shameful as a schoolgirl who has been called to the headmaster for flashing her knickers at the boys.
(".. ..No.") She whispers, utterly submissive.
"Pardon?" Ash can't stop himself grinning, as she hangs her head even more in misery.
(".. ..No.") Just a little louder, but still a whisper.
"I think you should apologise to Pikachu, don't you?"
(".. ..'es") He turns her to face me, and I have to fight to stop myself giggling, she looks woebegone as a wet puppy.
"Go on then." She's silent for a moment, then:
(".. ..'ry 'kachu.") Spoken so quietly that I can't even pick out the start of each word.
"I don't think she heard you." A sigh, and once again she speaks a fraction louder.
(".. ..Sorry Pikachu.") I nod to Ash, and he gently sets her down.
"Now don't do that again. Oh, and Pikachu, next time you ask me to tease someone, do it a little more subtly, Chikorita almost saw you signalling." He turns on his heel and continues down the path. I give Chikorita a snide grin, before pulling down an eyelid and sticking my tongue out at her, before jogging off, sniggering. Judging by her glare as we move around a gentle bend and out of her sight, she's just figured out that she's been wound up, and she's not going to forget it in a hurry.
("I enjoyed that.") I titter quietly, falling back into step alongside my human companion.
"She does need taking down a peg or two now and then." He sighs, head leant back, eyes raking the sky. I look up too, and pick out what I think he has seen. Just visible ahead, over the top of a slate coloured slope about a mile away, there are a few wispy grey clouds just slipping along. They are pretty high, but they're coming from the north. And we know what that means.
("I get the feeling we won't want to be going anywhere tomorrow.") Ash gives an affirmative grunt in response.
"Nope. It's probably going to absolutely tip down. Only one type of weather comes from the north around here, and that's bad weather." Even as we've been watching a little more cloud seems to spill over the ridge in the distance, creeping with slow certainty south. By tonight, it'll probably be in a high blanket across the whole area. And that's just the introduction, the show won't have even begun. Once again we both gladly sink into the stupor of total relaxation, like it's a mattress after a hard day of work. And the last couple of days have been hard. Misty has been touchy, Hazel stand-offish, everyone getting under everyone else's skin, I think I've shocked everyone barring Ash in the last twenty-four hours. Ash has been the common ground for everyone, since Hazel and Misty aren't exactly good mates, and I've been getting pissed with Chikorita recently, she's being too cheeky and possessive, especially with everyone stuck together for a five-day stay in a three-bed room in a one-horse town. When it's time to let off a little steam, Ash is the first choice. Hazel likes to talk to Cyndaquil too, for some reason, and since she's still being taught Poke language and getting much better very, very quickly, she's starting to get some answers she understands too.
("Do you remember the first time we were out in a storm around here?") A voice asks idly into the silence, and both Ash and myself almost die of coronary failure. I spin around to see my fire-type friend sat with his back to a tree on the riverbank, eyes half-closed.
("Yes.") I'd rather not remember it though.
("You were half asleep and the first bang was so intense you.. ..")
("Okay, okay, we were all there, remember!") I speak over him, hopefully loud enough to not hear what he's saying, since I don't want to be reminded.
(".. ..took ages to dry out, and it still has the stain.") Ash snorts quietly, and I give Cyndaquil a Look. Not a look, a Look. The sort that deserves a capital letter to do it justice. The type which, if it were possible that looks could kill, would see Cyndaquil laying in state on a slab in some random coroner's office before he could have a last cigarette.
"It was one hell of a storm. The weather doesn't mess about around here. The first rumble of thunder sounded like a rock slide." Ash murmurs, taking careful aim before kicking a loose stone into the stream, where it sinks with a barely audible plop. "From my point of view the best part was Misty screaming "I hate thunderstorms!" and hurling herself into my arms until it was over. By which time she was asleep, so we stayed that way until the next morning.. .." Cyndaquil and I exchange an "oh boy" glance as our human partner dozes off into dreamland while still stood upright.
("Okay *Brock*, whenever you're ready.") Cyndaquil's jibe knocks Ash back into reality, and he scratches the back of his head in embarrassement.
"Eh-heh, not quite. I hope." A blush briefly adorns his face, but it's gone before anyone else would notice. "I remember looking out of the tent through an open flap, watching the lightning forks dancing across the sky that night. It was if it was hopping from one peak to another all around us, sat down in the valley. It was beautiful, terrifying, but still beautiful." It was, once I'd gotten over the surprise. People who don't know me would wonder why a Pikachu would be scared of a storm, since I produce lightning naturally. But a real thunderstorm, the raw power, the noise, the sheer force of it, it's something which needs to be respected. When the first flash-bang went off, it was like a bomb had struck. I was so surprised that I shot into the air, knocking a half cup of coffee over Misty's medical book before shooting into the corner of the tent we were in and hiding under a pillow. It's not much, but I don't like looking cowardly, it's not something I normally am. Mind you, Chikorita and Misty both screamed their heads off, which was more deafening than the storm.
("Do you think we should be heading back? Just in case the rain closes in?") I suggest hopefully, since my feet are killing me, and the peace of mind has gone.
"If you're ready." I nod, and Cyndaquil languidly rolls over and gets up onto all fours before giving his assent. With that, Ash puts two fingers to his mouth, and emits a piercing whistle. In moments, Chikorita crashes through the undergrowth and takes up a defensive stance until it's quite clear there's no-one else here. Then she just looks embarrassed by the entrance.
("Nice, right out of a Jackie Chan movie.") Chikorita growls at my sniggered joke.
("Well I don't know, it might have been an attack by a wild Pokemon! And considering the ease with which I tricked you earlier, I don't trust anyone else to defend Ash better than me!") The last remark cuts deep, very deep. I can feel the anger spreading with the speed of a gunshot, like poison.
("I'd trust myself over you any day. At least I can take out a flock of spearow single handed, you couldn't take down one which was tied to a tree!") She storms towards me, and we almost square up, just trying to outstare each other. I can't help but worry though, worry that she holds the cards. For this happened once before, and I ended up in trouble. The sort of trouble which resulted in a long stay in a Pokecenter for me and Ash.
("Are you man enough to back yourself, or are you a mouse? Oh, sorry, I forgot, you are a mouse. And you're scared, I can see it.") Her snarl grows triumphant as I just feel my shoulders sag a little, and I can feel a sheen of tears beginning to form in my eyes. Normally I'd be the one to floor her with wit, but sometimes something comes over Chikorita when she gets really angry. Something that frightens me. ("If you're scared of me, why not admit I'm the one who is stronger?") Electricity flutters from my cheeks out of anger, but my heart flutters out of uncertainty. I know Chikorita is normally just trying to wind me up, but right now she's serious, and I don't want to hurt a friend.
("Leave it, just leave me alone!") But I know that she's not quite so worried about hurting me. She's still very young, and petty. That was the trouble last time. That and a little thing called jealousy.
("Hey, I'm where I want to be, so why don't you just f-")
"Chikorita. Back off." Ash's barked command stops her dead.
("For christ's sake, what are you starting that crap up for?!") Cyndaquil flares his quills, and steps between us. ("That's so stupid, you promised to forgive and forget, for us as much as yourselves!")
("She started it.") Chikorita states limply now her rage is cooling. I feel a little dread slip into my mind at the words - "She started it" was how it all began the last time. It began a feud which went on for too long, and nearly ended with tragedy.
"Stop it, don't even think about it. Chikorita, you've no right to use the past to abuse her, I'm disgusted that you'd even consider it." Chikorita drops her head at Ash's dark tone and stares at the ground for a few seconds.
("But, but I.. ..")
"No buts." To my surprise, it sounds like she chokes off a sob.
("Sorry.") She gasps throatily, before suddenly turning tail and running into the undergrowth. For a moment we all look to one another, stunned. Then the emotion of the fight returns in full force, and I have to bite back the liquid fleeing into my eyes.
("I'm sorry too, but why did you have to try and bring it up? Just to attack me?") I strangle the last few words out, before succumbing to the inevitable. I feel Ash take me into his hands as I cry, and I take the opportunity to bury my face in his shirt.
("I'll go after her.") Cyndaquil doesn't wait for a response, just rushes straight into the grass, following Chikorita's scent.
"Well, this was an otherwise peaceful afternoon, yes, Pikachu?" I raise my bleary eyes, and feel a small smile peck at my mouth as it takes in his face.
("Yeah, I guess.") I sniffle a bit, and then add ("You're not worried about her?") He shakes his head, as he turns back down the path, heading to civilisation.
"Yes, but she's gone off like this before, Cyndaquil knows what to do. Besides, she's too loyal to me, and deep down to you too, to just run off." From over his shoulder, I see a few more clouds have entered the tide of grey slowly easing it's way south.
("I just hope they get back before it starts raining.") He nods definitely.
"They will, they will. Now let's try and enjoy a little of this walk home, since we'll be getting plenty more from where that came from soon, that's for sure."
"Do you want any help?" I fight the desire to answer "No, I can help myself, thanks." And turn to the lady owning the shop with a false smile.
"I'm fine, just browsing for now." Although "I can help myself" would probably be more accurate. Sniggering, I turn back to a rack of clothes lining one wall of the shop, trying to get my shoulder bag in a more comfortable position. If I didn't know better, I'd swear this was a charity shop, judging by the weird stuff all over the place, from books which are so dog-eared that a mongrel would be ashamed, to old pots which I'm not even going to guess the use of. The thing which makes me know better? Well any charity shop charging this much for a skirt isn't very charitable. I put it back on the rack, keenly aware of the bright, bird-like eyes of the lady behind me fixed unblinking on my back. Money is no problem, I've got enough to pay.
"Hi Nan!" I look over my shoulder, and see the white-haired head turn around to the doorway, where a young man is peeking into the shop.
"Danny! My, it's been a while." A smile lights up her face, making the few wrinkles vanish. The man steps inside, a smile written on his own face, shutting the door behind him. To anyone else he'd be just another person, but to me he's only one thing. A distraction. This trip could be cheaper than I thought.
"It has." The lady makes her way around the counter and they give each other a hug. Perfect. I reach out, slip the bag off my back, and stuff a pair of jeans, a loose grey-blue blouse and a cute little strapless number (probably for someone a few years my senior) into it. They would have to be anorexic, but I don't want to meet the person who designed it if it was designed for someone my age. But hey, beggars can't be choosers, right? And I've got no problem wearing it, as it might give me an advantage. So long as it doesn't mean someone gets the wrong idea. Uhgh, don't even think of that.
"So, how has the year gone? You getting on okay at your studies?" He nods, and I re-shoulder my bag. She takes him around the counter, and they both sit down on chairs placed behind it. Carefully keeping my face neutral I pick up a few items of underwear, a loose flowery skirt, and a bathing suit, before taking them over. As I plonk them down by the cash register both pairs of eyes move back up to me, and I give them a grin. One, after a moment, they both return.
"Okay, I think this is all for now." I say, feeling guilt trying with all it's might to seep into my tone.
"Right, let's see what we've got here." The lady gets up slowly, and I grimace at the way every joint seems to creak, and at the parchment-fine skin on her thin hands turning over the goods with careful movements.
"So, you here on holiday?" The boy asks, flicking his brown fringe out of his eyes. I just nod, watching the old lady now type the numbers into the till. An old cardigan and all, she reminds me so much of my grandmother. "It's nice around here this time of year, but there's a nasty storm coming in tonight, so I wouldn't go anywhere."
"Okay." I reply absently, lost in thought. How long ago was it? Oh, a few years now.. ..
"That'll be thirty-one pounds, thirty-four pence." She looks up at me again, and her eyes twinkle. "Shall we call it thirty?" Right here, right now, I want to do one of two things. Die on the spot, or throw the contents of my bag onto the desk and burst into tears. But neither does my heart stop or my eyes water, and as I come around from my panic attack I find myself picking up the carrier bag and saying goodbye, before leaving post haste and heading to the door. It spits me out into the street like the scum I am, depositing me onto the pavement and shutting firmly behind me. Strange. This isn't the first time I've stolen, not by a long shot. But for some reason it was different here. Perhaps it was the old woman, or the fact it is only a little shop. Or perhaps it's because I've just realised what a down and dirty little piece of crap I really am. The little voice which as always reassured me that it isn't my fault has got laryngitis. One thing in particular makes me feel hollow, and that was the way that the lady's face lit up when her grandson peeked through the door, and the fact I used it as a cover to steal cruelly and cynically from her. And the fact I stole from more than just her to get my clothes. And maybe bitterness at seeing what I don't have.. ..
"Stop it!" I mutter viciously to myself, stepping out of the doorway and setting off down the street, casting a glance at the darkening skyline. It's not my fault I couldn't ask Ash and Misty for a loan, or that I'm a little isolated right now. I'm just - just a little unlucky. That's all. But my long-neglected conscience is sniggering quietly at the edge of hearing. The house is going to come down, all of it, soon. I shut the door on the burning kitchen, and just now a few curls of smoke are filtering through the cracks. I just hope I can run far enough to not see the flames. Or at the very least avoid getting burnt.
How long since I last took a paracetamol? Only three hours? Ohhh god, a whole hour until my next little window of happiness then. I place my fingers to my temples and massage them. It says on the packet take one to two tablets every four hours, so why do they only work for three? I take one hand from the side of my head to brush away a few stray red hairs which are getting on my nerves. It just gives me a better view of the ceiling. Well what else did I expect when I'm laying prone on a bed? Gawd, what a time to come down with a cold and a headache. Right when I'm miles from somewhere with decent television. The only good part about being ill is watching something you enjoy on a TV, it kinda restores the balance, and takes the mind off any pounding headache that might be present. Even out in the wilderness, Ash would have been waiting on me hand and foot, letting me rest my head in his lap. He did offer to stay, but my head wasn't so sore then. Nor my throat so dry, or my eyes so tired. But if he had stayed, he would have ended up force-feeding me things that I don't really want to eat. I feel hungry, but at the same time don't want to eat, it must be the illness. I could've guessed it was coming, I've barely felt like eating for a few days, my appetite has been a bit off-colour. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose to try and ward off the sharp, pulsing ache that has sprung up again. It's like someone has pushed a red-hot needle up each nostril and is trying to insert it into my eyes from beneath. Ah, hell to it, I'm going to have another couple of tablets, and if I die of an OD it'll be a positive relief from what I'm experiencing now, that's certain. I slide myself gingerly off the bed and stand up, rewarded with the traditional increase of pain that it brings. There must be some bible-esque rule book in the body with guidelines for illness. Commandment number one is probably "Thou shalt not stand up." Makes sense, it's best to do as little as possible when feeling like this. I wander into the bathroom where we keep the medical stuff, and pop out two little tablets from their packaging, before downing them with a few mouthfuls of water from out of a dirty glass. I refill the glass, and take it with me back into the bedroom. For some reason I find myself thinking that out of all the ways of passing away, an overdose seems like a pretty easy option, not painful or anything. On the scale of one to ten about one point seven. A bit of a macabre thought, but that's just what comes to mind. Well, to my mind, which is both very bored and in constant agony, so I guess it's not in a happy-happy- sun-is-shiny-I'm-so-glad-I'm-alive mood. I think the sun outside is still shiny, but I had the foresight to draw the curtains, so it's as dim as possible in here. One saving grace about my state of illness is that I'm not likely to be getting in any verbal scraps with anyone soon. I glance at the clock. About two in the afternoon. I blink once..
Half-three? That was one long blink. Well my head isn't quite as painful as earlier, but the drugs are probably working at their peak at the moment. I reach over, grab the glass of water and drain it, feeling a little dizzy. The world seems surreal, out of focus. A quick glance around the room tells me I'm still alone. Where is everyone? Ash probably won't be long. I hope not anyway, I'd like his company. At least if I'm ill he'll lavish more attention on me. He always has before. But then again he hasn't had a catty little bitch latched onto him before either. Hah, unless you count me. Okay, I'll face it, Hazel reminds me of, well, me a long time ago. Fighting tooth and nail for little things to call her own, and to score little points. And I'll face something else too, I'm incredibly, unbelievably jealous of her. And it's simply because of one person, and every second he spends with her. I'm almost counting them. Putting them in an imaginary piggy bank, so that I can smash it to show him the cost when she's gone. Something tells me I'm being unreasonable, but I tell it that I'm just being realistic. It's only a matter of time until one view out voices the other. Then I guess I'll come to terms, or I'll go completely off the handle, over the top, through the roof. God, I'm messed up. Here I am lain in a strange room with an uncompromising headache, and I'm so busy trying to reason that reason itself escapes me. One thing is undying in my thoughts though. How Hazel is so like the preteen me. Funny really, someone I can't stand is someone who is like me. There is nothing worse than a mirror, it shows all faults, unvarnished and naked to the eyes of the beholder. But this is a mirror in so many more dimensions. The style, the tone, the manners, she even looks like me discounting the hair and eyes. What I really want is to go back to who I was. And prove I'm better than her to Ash, and to myself. I'm determined, it seems like the only way out of this confusion. To become who I was in the early days. To have Ash not only as a friend, maybe as a protector. To escape responsibility, and to recapture the happiness of childhood. No, stop it. this is perverse in the extreme. It's perverse it can't be done. I've got older, grown. Who I am is not who I was. And I don't always like who I was. If I were younger, Ash could never love me as a lover. But it's tempting, so tempting. And it's possible, it must be. But it isn't, it can't be. Can it? Can't it? Can it? Can't it?
"I'm going fucking insane!" I yell, just to hear my own voice in an attempt to regain order. It does silence the thoughts spinning round and round in my mind, like a dog chasing it's tail, but the space it vacates is taken up by yet more headache. Great. It's preferential to those really weird thoughts, but not by a lot. I sigh, and try to relax again. But that idea is stopped by the click of a lock.
"Feeling any better?" The voice I've been pining to hear washes into my ears, with the effect of a double dose of medicine. I twist to see him, in time to watch his face crease with concern. "I guess not, you look like a zombie." He sits down gingerly on the bed and puts his palm to my head.
"I've felt better." I manage to croak pitifully, delighted at the touch.
"I'd say, you've got one nice fever there. Taken anything?" He moves a little closer, now brushing his hands through my hair. I resist the urge to purr.
"Paracetamol."
"Do you need a drink?" He gestures to the empty glass. I nod with a tiny grin, and he reaches across to pick it up before heading to the bathroom. As I cautiously prop myself up against the headboard, my slightly furry view picks out Pikachu on the next bed, looking curious. Hmmmm.
"Where are the others?" The tap begins running, and Ash calls out over the noise.
"Chikorita had a bit of a fizz and took off. Cyndaquil is going to cool her off and bring her back. It's happened before, remember? Cyndaquil is best off dealing with it, since I'm sorta the bone that's being fought over." He makes it sound funny, but I can hear a little stress in his tone. But it hits me now, the guilt. Ash being fought over like two dogs over a bone. And not just by Chikorita and Pikachu, but by Hazel, and of all people, me.. .. "Here you go, one glass of water, fresh from the tap." He grins, bringing the glass over to me, and sitting down on the bed again.
"Thanks Ash." I reply, and take the glass, trying to ignore the shaking of my hands thanks to the rising fever. But the water spilling over the lip of the container destroys the attempt pretty quickly.
"Let me help." My heart gives flutter as Ash places his hands tenderly around mine, guiding the rim to my mouth. I drink slowly, as much to savour his touch as the water slipping down my dry throat.
"Better?" I nod as he takes the glass from me and puts it to one side, but feel drowsiness flowing swiftly back into consciousness.
"Bit tired though.. .." Emphasised by a huge yawn. I feel myself relax, head nod, and it's almost like I've no control, sleep has overtaken me again so quickly.
"Well just relax, you need your sleep." I hear him reply softly. My mind, floating in the clouds, lets the lips say what they want to say. I don't care, I'm too tired, and Ash is with me.
"Love you.. .." With that, there is nothing but darkness.
Just had to have that at the end. But for what Ash's reaction is, you'll have to read next time.. ..
Don't forget to review!
Dan.
Big thanks to Heironeous and Cultnirvana once again for their checking and patience, this'd be unreadable without them! And of course hugs to all reviewers!
On with the show.
Where the River Flows - Chapter IV
11.45PM, July 22nd - I guess when I look back on it, it was this night, lain in the quiet darkness thinking, that was the light to the candle. The candle which has melted down day by day, seemingly unnoticed.
My eyes flick to the clock for the hundredth time in the last hour, to see it still proclaiming the middle of the night. I just can't sleep. I've tried laying on my back, on my side, on my front, with my arm under the pillow, with my thumb in my mouth, even with my knees to my chin and hands laced under my thighs, although that was never likely to work. I've tried counting stars in the night sky, sheep, ducks, Pikachus, snores, breaths, humming lullabies, romantic tunes, even Metallica. (Didn't expect that to work either). But no, the shroud of sleep remains as elusive as a really nice tasting vegetable. Now that was an odd thing to think. I mean I've never found a vegetable I really like, although potatoes come close if cooked the right way, but what does that have to do with getting to sleep? What does any of this have to do with getting to sleep? Ah, it's useless. I roll over, slowly sit up, and look at the sleeping face of the one I love, child-like in the darkness, hair falling across the face, obscuring sleeping eyes. There is nothing as innocent as someone encased in a dreamland, utterly blind to the outside world. It's where I wish I was at this time of the morning. Perhaps I would be dreaming about us being together, about romantic strolls in the twilight, about an all-enveloping hug to blind me from all the worries in my world. God knows there are enough of them. Even though I may conceal them from the others, they never seem to leave me. It's times like this, a sleepless night with the moon staring back at me, that I really think. About past and future. What the future holds, and what the past is holding. The past sure has it's hands full, but does the future just have it's fingers clutching at nothing? It's easy to be paranoid when nothing is certain, like walking in the fog. I might make the same mistakes as I had before, not really get anywhere. I might really make something of myself, but am I afraid of change? Or am I just clinging onto life as it is like it's a teddy bear, sucking on my thumb to ignore the inevitable bitter pills which I'll need to swallow if I am to progress?
("Fishy fishy.") Pikachu murmurs drowsily, rolling over onto her front, before resuming her snoring. That's totally derailed my train of thought, thankfully. Fishy fishy? I don't think I want to know. Since it's her dream, I doubt I will. I resist the urge to giggle. Weird how schizophrenic the mind can be so late at night. Something about that was so funny. ("Uhhh, slimy, slimy fishies.") Now I do giggle. Just a moment ago I was working myself into a panicky frenzy, and now I'm laughing about Pikachu's subconscious fear of fish. Odd, that. I've always thought that laughing and crying were complete opposites, but maybe not. I mean, hysterical can mean both with laughter and tears. It's almost like they are linked. If something is really funny I've cried at the sheer joy of it, yet when something really painful happened, like when I lost my grandmother, when I first found out I felt like laughing. Not laughing with delight, but I just felt..like I wanted to laugh. I actually did when I got to my room, for about a minute, before the giggles changed wordlessly to whimpers. Why? I couldn't say. She was always so close to me, closer than almost anyone else, yet my first feeling was almost euphoric. But it was just the calm before the storm, the silver lining to the thunder cloud. Really odd. So, where was I before all that? Ahh, I don't know. Maybe I should just lay down in bed again, and try to dream of fish myself. I sink back down and twist wind the blanket between my legs, and then clutch tightly to the top of it, pulling it to my chest. As a substitute for a person to hold, it's okay. Just makes me feel secure, so that when I close my eyes once again, I might just dream that I'm holding that special someone instead.
It's early morning. It must be, as the sun is shining through the window from low in the sky, just popping over the buildings opposite, straight into my face. Great, who didn't close the curtains last night? Come to think of it, what happened last night? I get the feeling I've been awake at some point, but for how long I don't know, it feels like I've not slept at all. The last thing I remember with any clarity was a Lapras. After I hit my head on the floor. Oh, a headache is just starting now, and it's already promising to be a killer. Erm, and there was something about a Joker too, but I'm not sure. I creak an eyelid open gently, trying to avoid being dazzled. The others are all snoozing away happily. So, I know who I am, where I am, and sort of what is going on. So, what next? Finding out the time? Okay. I ease up into a sitting position, and from there I get uneasily to my feet. In response the headache moves from pulsing intensity to thumping, with promise of further development. The only clock I can see is the one between Ash's and Misty's bed. Is it worth putting any clothes on to check? Well, not if it tells me I should go back to sleep. I drop the blanket I'd pulled up with me, and scoot around Ash to check. Quarter to six in the morning. Great. Well, at least I won't have to wait for too long. To be honest, this is nice, I always used to enjoy early mornings at home before anyone was awake. It was just about all the freedom I could get. And standing in a hotel room bathed in dawn sun is something I think everyone should try. A sniffle from a sleeper reminds me that I'm not alone, and I hurry back to my bed, and search for my bag. There it is, at the foot of the bed. Right, first up, underwear, a cleanish pair.no dice. So, the ones with minimal odour then. I really should have tried to get more than four sets of briefs before I left, though it's not like I had much chance. Hmmm, the new ones are probably the best bet, the rest were pretty well worn before I left home. I slip my feet into them, pull them on swiftly. In fact, I used to deliberately get up as early as I could stand it, it afforded me a little peace, and I could watch the sun rise over the Cerulean Sea. Before my family, if you could call it that, woke up. Then the day used to take a definite downturn. I tut to myself as I reach down into my bag for a bra which could still bend without cracking. Eeesh, laundry day is undoubtedly overdue.
("Uhhhnn.. ..") Cyndaquil, the only other member of the room who is facing the window, moans sleepily and turns his head. Quickly I scurry over to the window and pull the thick blue curtains shut, cloaking the room in shadow, and smile as he settles back down again. My sudden burst, however, is rewarded with the headache increasing to a bloody ridiculous level. I go back to my bed and sit down on it, my brain seeming to creak more than the springs of the busted mattress. It's only when I look at it with a headache I realise this room is a bit of a dump. The beds have seen better days, even the walls look shabby. My hands work of their own accord, dressing me without conscious thought as I scan my surroundings. The net curtains could do with a wash, mind you, you couldn't hardly see through the ones which used to hang around my windows. Compared to my bedroom, this place is almost a palace. A green pair of shorts are on now, and a round-necked T- shirt has found it's way onto my body. Back to front. Always the same, dressing without thinking about it. Something ends up out of place.
"Um, what time is it?" Ash mutters sleepily, and without looking at me, rolls over to look at his clock. "Too early, way too early. Maybe I could just get baaa.. .." His murmurings are interrupted by a huge yawn. ".. ..aaack to sleep.. .." At about that moment, a breath of wind gasps through the closed curtains and spreads them, sending a laser shaft of light into his face. "Ah, bloody sun!" He rolls away from the light, and his eyes meet mine.
"Good morning." I feel a smile walk onto my face, and my cheeks heat up. I don't know why, it's not like me to get bashful or anything. "The same thing woke me up, blasted sun doesn't wait for long before it gets everyone awake in the summer." He gives a sleepy smile, lifting his head up and propping it on his hand. His hair, shaggy and unstyled, slips over one eye and looks so tousled that it's almost forming a knot. It's also hard to ignore his quite muscular arm, and a rather toned chest peeking out from under the blanket.
"You feeling better this morning?" I nod, my own grin fading quickly.
"Yeah. I can't remember much. Just falling over." He looks like he's thinking, and I'm instantly on my guard.
"So you don't remember me coming back in then?" I feel my eyes harden, face become featureless as a wall, voice grow toneless, my natural response to questioning.
"No."
"Oh, okay." He pauses, before adopting a gentler tone. "I was wondering, would you like to come to the pub for lunch later.. .." A little bird twitters a warning in my ear, but too late to stop me snipping him short.
"No."
"Okay, keep your voice down, it is early in the morning you know." He chides quietly, before shooting me a piercing look. "But why don't you want to come in for lunch? Apparently they do a really good pie and chips. Well, they do anything as long as it can either come with chips and peas, or can be classed as a curry." I just shrug.
"I don't like pubs much." I make it sound simple, what I want to say is I despise them, hate them, vomit when I think of one.
"Why?" I hate that word.
"Just because." I can see he's unconvinced.
"Hazel, last night, when I came in.. ..I came to check on you as you were lying on the bed." Alarm bells start ringing in my head. This doesn't sound good, no, this sounds bad. Quick, start thinking of ideas, get a head start. It's several seconds before I notice Ash has been watching my reaction closely, and I know my daze has already told him more than my denial could.
"What happened?" I curse the slip. It just shows that I'm worried, that there might just be something I'm protecting.
"Well, when I came in, ah, oh forget about it." He lays back down, looking like he's going to sleep again.
"No, tell me."
"Why are you so desperate to know?" Shit! I lock eyes with him, and grab the best answer which I can.
"Because I've known enough backstabbers to not want anyone to know what I don't, right?" I reply in an indignant growl, a pang of anger flitting into me. I hate it, hate it when I'm caught with a weakness.
"Like who?"
"There were lots of them."
"Lots?" I feel my anger grow hotter, and raise my voice to almost a shout.
"Yes, lots! Are you deaf or something?!" His head snaps around, looking to the others in the room, and then turns again at the sight of four sleeping bodies.
"Hazel, keep your voice down." He mutters, suddenly sounding brisk.
".. ..Okay."
"I know full well you don't want a certain person to wake up while you're talking." I bristle at the "you're", and decide to try and end it.
"I don't want to be talking at all, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to run myself a bath." I slip myself off the bed, hearing him sigh in frustration, and strut towards the bathroom entrance after grabbing my bag.
"Hazel?" I pause, hand on the handle of the broken door, and look up. He fixes me with a quick stare, before his whole appearance seems to soften, and he slips me a gentle smile. "Make sure you don't slip, I don't want you getting hurt again." He adds a wink, and I feel my face start to heat up, a blush spreading from my chest and spreading upwards with the speed of a hurricane, and with the same unstoppability.
"I'll make sure, Ash." With a grin I'm through the door and it's shut behind me, with the bag propped against it. Only then do I allow a tiny sigh, allow my eyelids to close delicately with wordless delight. How is it just a little smile and a few kind words can do this to me? Or is it just because he's the one saying it? For a second I imagine it just being Ash and me, and my wild fantasies coming true.. .. But it's time to get back to the present, and run that bath. It's a little early for one, but it's not a treat I've had often, even including last night. And besides, I have to keep up the idea that I wasn't just coming in here as a cover that I didn't want him to know something. Yet a few little thoughts keep nagging me as I set the water running and get undressed. He knows something. And he's not going to be fooled by a few denials. And I want someone to run to, talk to, even cry to. And I think I trust him.. .. do I? Ah, to hell with it. I dip one toe in the water and check it's not too hot, before stepping into the part-full tub and sitting down. It's too early in the morning for thinking, especially when I've got a headache, and the thoughts are unwanted.. ..
I prick my ears up, trying to pick out a delicate noise that had drifted into them from upon the breeze. Nothing more, so I pick up my gaze and scan around, interested. It's not a threatening noise, but it was familiar, and it'll itch all day unless I find it's source. Ah, there, right up in that tree, a nest. As I watch, a tiny head peeks out of the side, and gives a plaintive cheep.
"What is it Pikachu?" Ash crouches down and sights along where I'm pointing, before a slight smile tweaks at his mouth. "They're a bit late hatching, aren't they? Well, it sounds like they want their dinner, and they might not get it if we stay by here, so let's move along." I nod in response, and hop further along the path. We've been staying in that village for a few days rest, and today Ash decided to go for a walk. Hazel said she wanted to go shopping, and Misty said she's got a bit of a cold, and can't find the energy. So, it's just Ash and me, well, Chikorita and Cyndaquil are here too, but they're off out of sight somewhere.
("Gorgeous day.") I sigh, stopping to breathe deeply, sampling the fine taste of clear mountain air, perfumed by wild scents which can't be captured by a bottle.
"It is, really gorgeous." Strolling along a worn path, alongside a stream just visible through a line of trees. It's sort of a valley, there are great grassy hills either side of us which become more rocky at the very edge of my vision, but the valley bottoms out and flattens, leaving a long, thin strip of flat land between them, weaving it's way along the stream. Long grass sways lazily, here and there a field of wheat rustles, tress scattered around like someone has planned some massive join the dots puzzle out of the land itself, to be viewed from a great height. The bubbling of the water running as the path moves right onto the riverbank only adds to the tranquillity, tranquillity which is almost celestial. Clear and flawless as a sheet of glass.
("Boo!") A sheet of glass that is shattered by the hammer that is Chikorita, launching herself out of a clump of weeds and into me, bundling me over and straight into the stream, which is fortunately only a foot deep.
("Bastard! This is cold!") I howl as she rights herself with a cheeky grin. I fling myself back up onto the bank, ready to give her a good smack but hold off as, unseen behind her, hands reach down and pick her up quickly. I give Ash a wink, followed by drawing my forefinger across my throat and pointing to Chikorita. It's wind up time.
"Now that wasn't nice, was it? Why should you deserve any treats when you go and do that to her?!" With a few angry words her cheeky aura fades quick as a sunlight fades behind a cloud, and is replaced by abject misery. Ash raises her to eye level, and just looks at her sternly, almost glaring for a moment. In response she almost shrivels, like dry leaves on a bonfire. "Well, was it?" Ash repeats coolly, shooting me another wink as her eyes look away, shameful as a schoolgirl who has been called to the headmaster for flashing her knickers at the boys.
(".. ..No.") She whispers, utterly submissive.
"Pardon?" Ash can't stop himself grinning, as she hangs her head even more in misery.
(".. ..No.") Just a little louder, but still a whisper.
"I think you should apologise to Pikachu, don't you?"
(".. ..'es") He turns her to face me, and I have to fight to stop myself giggling, she looks woebegone as a wet puppy.
"Go on then." She's silent for a moment, then:
(".. ..'ry 'kachu.") Spoken so quietly that I can't even pick out the start of each word.
"I don't think she heard you." A sigh, and once again she speaks a fraction louder.
(".. ..Sorry Pikachu.") I nod to Ash, and he gently sets her down.
"Now don't do that again. Oh, and Pikachu, next time you ask me to tease someone, do it a little more subtly, Chikorita almost saw you signalling." He turns on his heel and continues down the path. I give Chikorita a snide grin, before pulling down an eyelid and sticking my tongue out at her, before jogging off, sniggering. Judging by her glare as we move around a gentle bend and out of her sight, she's just figured out that she's been wound up, and she's not going to forget it in a hurry.
("I enjoyed that.") I titter quietly, falling back into step alongside my human companion.
"She does need taking down a peg or two now and then." He sighs, head leant back, eyes raking the sky. I look up too, and pick out what I think he has seen. Just visible ahead, over the top of a slate coloured slope about a mile away, there are a few wispy grey clouds just slipping along. They are pretty high, but they're coming from the north. And we know what that means.
("I get the feeling we won't want to be going anywhere tomorrow.") Ash gives an affirmative grunt in response.
"Nope. It's probably going to absolutely tip down. Only one type of weather comes from the north around here, and that's bad weather." Even as we've been watching a little more cloud seems to spill over the ridge in the distance, creeping with slow certainty south. By tonight, it'll probably be in a high blanket across the whole area. And that's just the introduction, the show won't have even begun. Once again we both gladly sink into the stupor of total relaxation, like it's a mattress after a hard day of work. And the last couple of days have been hard. Misty has been touchy, Hazel stand-offish, everyone getting under everyone else's skin, I think I've shocked everyone barring Ash in the last twenty-four hours. Ash has been the common ground for everyone, since Hazel and Misty aren't exactly good mates, and I've been getting pissed with Chikorita recently, she's being too cheeky and possessive, especially with everyone stuck together for a five-day stay in a three-bed room in a one-horse town. When it's time to let off a little steam, Ash is the first choice. Hazel likes to talk to Cyndaquil too, for some reason, and since she's still being taught Poke language and getting much better very, very quickly, she's starting to get some answers she understands too.
("Do you remember the first time we were out in a storm around here?") A voice asks idly into the silence, and both Ash and myself almost die of coronary failure. I spin around to see my fire-type friend sat with his back to a tree on the riverbank, eyes half-closed.
("Yes.") I'd rather not remember it though.
("You were half asleep and the first bang was so intense you.. ..")
("Okay, okay, we were all there, remember!") I speak over him, hopefully loud enough to not hear what he's saying, since I don't want to be reminded.
(".. ..took ages to dry out, and it still has the stain.") Ash snorts quietly, and I give Cyndaquil a Look. Not a look, a Look. The sort that deserves a capital letter to do it justice. The type which, if it were possible that looks could kill, would see Cyndaquil laying in state on a slab in some random coroner's office before he could have a last cigarette.
"It was one hell of a storm. The weather doesn't mess about around here. The first rumble of thunder sounded like a rock slide." Ash murmurs, taking careful aim before kicking a loose stone into the stream, where it sinks with a barely audible plop. "From my point of view the best part was Misty screaming "I hate thunderstorms!" and hurling herself into my arms until it was over. By which time she was asleep, so we stayed that way until the next morning.. .." Cyndaquil and I exchange an "oh boy" glance as our human partner dozes off into dreamland while still stood upright.
("Okay *Brock*, whenever you're ready.") Cyndaquil's jibe knocks Ash back into reality, and he scratches the back of his head in embarrassement.
"Eh-heh, not quite. I hope." A blush briefly adorns his face, but it's gone before anyone else would notice. "I remember looking out of the tent through an open flap, watching the lightning forks dancing across the sky that night. It was if it was hopping from one peak to another all around us, sat down in the valley. It was beautiful, terrifying, but still beautiful." It was, once I'd gotten over the surprise. People who don't know me would wonder why a Pikachu would be scared of a storm, since I produce lightning naturally. But a real thunderstorm, the raw power, the noise, the sheer force of it, it's something which needs to be respected. When the first flash-bang went off, it was like a bomb had struck. I was so surprised that I shot into the air, knocking a half cup of coffee over Misty's medical book before shooting into the corner of the tent we were in and hiding under a pillow. It's not much, but I don't like looking cowardly, it's not something I normally am. Mind you, Chikorita and Misty both screamed their heads off, which was more deafening than the storm.
("Do you think we should be heading back? Just in case the rain closes in?") I suggest hopefully, since my feet are killing me, and the peace of mind has gone.
"If you're ready." I nod, and Cyndaquil languidly rolls over and gets up onto all fours before giving his assent. With that, Ash puts two fingers to his mouth, and emits a piercing whistle. In moments, Chikorita crashes through the undergrowth and takes up a defensive stance until it's quite clear there's no-one else here. Then she just looks embarrassed by the entrance.
("Nice, right out of a Jackie Chan movie.") Chikorita growls at my sniggered joke.
("Well I don't know, it might have been an attack by a wild Pokemon! And considering the ease with which I tricked you earlier, I don't trust anyone else to defend Ash better than me!") The last remark cuts deep, very deep. I can feel the anger spreading with the speed of a gunshot, like poison.
("I'd trust myself over you any day. At least I can take out a flock of spearow single handed, you couldn't take down one which was tied to a tree!") She storms towards me, and we almost square up, just trying to outstare each other. I can't help but worry though, worry that she holds the cards. For this happened once before, and I ended up in trouble. The sort of trouble which resulted in a long stay in a Pokecenter for me and Ash.
("Are you man enough to back yourself, or are you a mouse? Oh, sorry, I forgot, you are a mouse. And you're scared, I can see it.") Her snarl grows triumphant as I just feel my shoulders sag a little, and I can feel a sheen of tears beginning to form in my eyes. Normally I'd be the one to floor her with wit, but sometimes something comes over Chikorita when she gets really angry. Something that frightens me. ("If you're scared of me, why not admit I'm the one who is stronger?") Electricity flutters from my cheeks out of anger, but my heart flutters out of uncertainty. I know Chikorita is normally just trying to wind me up, but right now she's serious, and I don't want to hurt a friend.
("Leave it, just leave me alone!") But I know that she's not quite so worried about hurting me. She's still very young, and petty. That was the trouble last time. That and a little thing called jealousy.
("Hey, I'm where I want to be, so why don't you just f-")
"Chikorita. Back off." Ash's barked command stops her dead.
("For christ's sake, what are you starting that crap up for?!") Cyndaquil flares his quills, and steps between us. ("That's so stupid, you promised to forgive and forget, for us as much as yourselves!")
("She started it.") Chikorita states limply now her rage is cooling. I feel a little dread slip into my mind at the words - "She started it" was how it all began the last time. It began a feud which went on for too long, and nearly ended with tragedy.
"Stop it, don't even think about it. Chikorita, you've no right to use the past to abuse her, I'm disgusted that you'd even consider it." Chikorita drops her head at Ash's dark tone and stares at the ground for a few seconds.
("But, but I.. ..")
"No buts." To my surprise, it sounds like she chokes off a sob.
("Sorry.") She gasps throatily, before suddenly turning tail and running into the undergrowth. For a moment we all look to one another, stunned. Then the emotion of the fight returns in full force, and I have to bite back the liquid fleeing into my eyes.
("I'm sorry too, but why did you have to try and bring it up? Just to attack me?") I strangle the last few words out, before succumbing to the inevitable. I feel Ash take me into his hands as I cry, and I take the opportunity to bury my face in his shirt.
("I'll go after her.") Cyndaquil doesn't wait for a response, just rushes straight into the grass, following Chikorita's scent.
"Well, this was an otherwise peaceful afternoon, yes, Pikachu?" I raise my bleary eyes, and feel a small smile peck at my mouth as it takes in his face.
("Yeah, I guess.") I sniffle a bit, and then add ("You're not worried about her?") He shakes his head, as he turns back down the path, heading to civilisation.
"Yes, but she's gone off like this before, Cyndaquil knows what to do. Besides, she's too loyal to me, and deep down to you too, to just run off." From over his shoulder, I see a few more clouds have entered the tide of grey slowly easing it's way south.
("I just hope they get back before it starts raining.") He nods definitely.
"They will, they will. Now let's try and enjoy a little of this walk home, since we'll be getting plenty more from where that came from soon, that's for sure."
"Do you want any help?" I fight the desire to answer "No, I can help myself, thanks." And turn to the lady owning the shop with a false smile.
"I'm fine, just browsing for now." Although "I can help myself" would probably be more accurate. Sniggering, I turn back to a rack of clothes lining one wall of the shop, trying to get my shoulder bag in a more comfortable position. If I didn't know better, I'd swear this was a charity shop, judging by the weird stuff all over the place, from books which are so dog-eared that a mongrel would be ashamed, to old pots which I'm not even going to guess the use of. The thing which makes me know better? Well any charity shop charging this much for a skirt isn't very charitable. I put it back on the rack, keenly aware of the bright, bird-like eyes of the lady behind me fixed unblinking on my back. Money is no problem, I've got enough to pay.
"Hi Nan!" I look over my shoulder, and see the white-haired head turn around to the doorway, where a young man is peeking into the shop.
"Danny! My, it's been a while." A smile lights up her face, making the few wrinkles vanish. The man steps inside, a smile written on his own face, shutting the door behind him. To anyone else he'd be just another person, but to me he's only one thing. A distraction. This trip could be cheaper than I thought.
"It has." The lady makes her way around the counter and they give each other a hug. Perfect. I reach out, slip the bag off my back, and stuff a pair of jeans, a loose grey-blue blouse and a cute little strapless number (probably for someone a few years my senior) into it. They would have to be anorexic, but I don't want to meet the person who designed it if it was designed for someone my age. But hey, beggars can't be choosers, right? And I've got no problem wearing it, as it might give me an advantage. So long as it doesn't mean someone gets the wrong idea. Uhgh, don't even think of that.
"So, how has the year gone? You getting on okay at your studies?" He nods, and I re-shoulder my bag. She takes him around the counter, and they both sit down on chairs placed behind it. Carefully keeping my face neutral I pick up a few items of underwear, a loose flowery skirt, and a bathing suit, before taking them over. As I plonk them down by the cash register both pairs of eyes move back up to me, and I give them a grin. One, after a moment, they both return.
"Okay, I think this is all for now." I say, feeling guilt trying with all it's might to seep into my tone.
"Right, let's see what we've got here." The lady gets up slowly, and I grimace at the way every joint seems to creak, and at the parchment-fine skin on her thin hands turning over the goods with careful movements.
"So, you here on holiday?" The boy asks, flicking his brown fringe out of his eyes. I just nod, watching the old lady now type the numbers into the till. An old cardigan and all, she reminds me so much of my grandmother. "It's nice around here this time of year, but there's a nasty storm coming in tonight, so I wouldn't go anywhere."
"Okay." I reply absently, lost in thought. How long ago was it? Oh, a few years now.. ..
"That'll be thirty-one pounds, thirty-four pence." She looks up at me again, and her eyes twinkle. "Shall we call it thirty?" Right here, right now, I want to do one of two things. Die on the spot, or throw the contents of my bag onto the desk and burst into tears. But neither does my heart stop or my eyes water, and as I come around from my panic attack I find myself picking up the carrier bag and saying goodbye, before leaving post haste and heading to the door. It spits me out into the street like the scum I am, depositing me onto the pavement and shutting firmly behind me. Strange. This isn't the first time I've stolen, not by a long shot. But for some reason it was different here. Perhaps it was the old woman, or the fact it is only a little shop. Or perhaps it's because I've just realised what a down and dirty little piece of crap I really am. The little voice which as always reassured me that it isn't my fault has got laryngitis. One thing in particular makes me feel hollow, and that was the way that the lady's face lit up when her grandson peeked through the door, and the fact I used it as a cover to steal cruelly and cynically from her. And the fact I stole from more than just her to get my clothes. And maybe bitterness at seeing what I don't have.. ..
"Stop it!" I mutter viciously to myself, stepping out of the doorway and setting off down the street, casting a glance at the darkening skyline. It's not my fault I couldn't ask Ash and Misty for a loan, or that I'm a little isolated right now. I'm just - just a little unlucky. That's all. But my long-neglected conscience is sniggering quietly at the edge of hearing. The house is going to come down, all of it, soon. I shut the door on the burning kitchen, and just now a few curls of smoke are filtering through the cracks. I just hope I can run far enough to not see the flames. Or at the very least avoid getting burnt.
How long since I last took a paracetamol? Only three hours? Ohhh god, a whole hour until my next little window of happiness then. I place my fingers to my temples and massage them. It says on the packet take one to two tablets every four hours, so why do they only work for three? I take one hand from the side of my head to brush away a few stray red hairs which are getting on my nerves. It just gives me a better view of the ceiling. Well what else did I expect when I'm laying prone on a bed? Gawd, what a time to come down with a cold and a headache. Right when I'm miles from somewhere with decent television. The only good part about being ill is watching something you enjoy on a TV, it kinda restores the balance, and takes the mind off any pounding headache that might be present. Even out in the wilderness, Ash would have been waiting on me hand and foot, letting me rest my head in his lap. He did offer to stay, but my head wasn't so sore then. Nor my throat so dry, or my eyes so tired. But if he had stayed, he would have ended up force-feeding me things that I don't really want to eat. I feel hungry, but at the same time don't want to eat, it must be the illness. I could've guessed it was coming, I've barely felt like eating for a few days, my appetite has been a bit off-colour. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose to try and ward off the sharp, pulsing ache that has sprung up again. It's like someone has pushed a red-hot needle up each nostril and is trying to insert it into my eyes from beneath. Ah, hell to it, I'm going to have another couple of tablets, and if I die of an OD it'll be a positive relief from what I'm experiencing now, that's certain. I slide myself gingerly off the bed and stand up, rewarded with the traditional increase of pain that it brings. There must be some bible-esque rule book in the body with guidelines for illness. Commandment number one is probably "Thou shalt not stand up." Makes sense, it's best to do as little as possible when feeling like this. I wander into the bathroom where we keep the medical stuff, and pop out two little tablets from their packaging, before downing them with a few mouthfuls of water from out of a dirty glass. I refill the glass, and take it with me back into the bedroom. For some reason I find myself thinking that out of all the ways of passing away, an overdose seems like a pretty easy option, not painful or anything. On the scale of one to ten about one point seven. A bit of a macabre thought, but that's just what comes to mind. Well, to my mind, which is both very bored and in constant agony, so I guess it's not in a happy-happy- sun-is-shiny-I'm-so-glad-I'm-alive mood. I think the sun outside is still shiny, but I had the foresight to draw the curtains, so it's as dim as possible in here. One saving grace about my state of illness is that I'm not likely to be getting in any verbal scraps with anyone soon. I glance at the clock. About two in the afternoon. I blink once..
Half-three? That was one long blink. Well my head isn't quite as painful as earlier, but the drugs are probably working at their peak at the moment. I reach over, grab the glass of water and drain it, feeling a little dizzy. The world seems surreal, out of focus. A quick glance around the room tells me I'm still alone. Where is everyone? Ash probably won't be long. I hope not anyway, I'd like his company. At least if I'm ill he'll lavish more attention on me. He always has before. But then again he hasn't had a catty little bitch latched onto him before either. Hah, unless you count me. Okay, I'll face it, Hazel reminds me of, well, me a long time ago. Fighting tooth and nail for little things to call her own, and to score little points. And I'll face something else too, I'm incredibly, unbelievably jealous of her. And it's simply because of one person, and every second he spends with her. I'm almost counting them. Putting them in an imaginary piggy bank, so that I can smash it to show him the cost when she's gone. Something tells me I'm being unreasonable, but I tell it that I'm just being realistic. It's only a matter of time until one view out voices the other. Then I guess I'll come to terms, or I'll go completely off the handle, over the top, through the roof. God, I'm messed up. Here I am lain in a strange room with an uncompromising headache, and I'm so busy trying to reason that reason itself escapes me. One thing is undying in my thoughts though. How Hazel is so like the preteen me. Funny really, someone I can't stand is someone who is like me. There is nothing worse than a mirror, it shows all faults, unvarnished and naked to the eyes of the beholder. But this is a mirror in so many more dimensions. The style, the tone, the manners, she even looks like me discounting the hair and eyes. What I really want is to go back to who I was. And prove I'm better than her to Ash, and to myself. I'm determined, it seems like the only way out of this confusion. To become who I was in the early days. To have Ash not only as a friend, maybe as a protector. To escape responsibility, and to recapture the happiness of childhood. No, stop it. this is perverse in the extreme. It's perverse it can't be done. I've got older, grown. Who I am is not who I was. And I don't always like who I was. If I were younger, Ash could never love me as a lover. But it's tempting, so tempting. And it's possible, it must be. But it isn't, it can't be. Can it? Can't it? Can it? Can't it?
"I'm going fucking insane!" I yell, just to hear my own voice in an attempt to regain order. It does silence the thoughts spinning round and round in my mind, like a dog chasing it's tail, but the space it vacates is taken up by yet more headache. Great. It's preferential to those really weird thoughts, but not by a lot. I sigh, and try to relax again. But that idea is stopped by the click of a lock.
"Feeling any better?" The voice I've been pining to hear washes into my ears, with the effect of a double dose of medicine. I twist to see him, in time to watch his face crease with concern. "I guess not, you look like a zombie." He sits down gingerly on the bed and puts his palm to my head.
"I've felt better." I manage to croak pitifully, delighted at the touch.
"I'd say, you've got one nice fever there. Taken anything?" He moves a little closer, now brushing his hands through my hair. I resist the urge to purr.
"Paracetamol."
"Do you need a drink?" He gestures to the empty glass. I nod with a tiny grin, and he reaches across to pick it up before heading to the bathroom. As I cautiously prop myself up against the headboard, my slightly furry view picks out Pikachu on the next bed, looking curious. Hmmmm.
"Where are the others?" The tap begins running, and Ash calls out over the noise.
"Chikorita had a bit of a fizz and took off. Cyndaquil is going to cool her off and bring her back. It's happened before, remember? Cyndaquil is best off dealing with it, since I'm sorta the bone that's being fought over." He makes it sound funny, but I can hear a little stress in his tone. But it hits me now, the guilt. Ash being fought over like two dogs over a bone. And not just by Chikorita and Pikachu, but by Hazel, and of all people, me.. .. "Here you go, one glass of water, fresh from the tap." He grins, bringing the glass over to me, and sitting down on the bed again.
"Thanks Ash." I reply, and take the glass, trying to ignore the shaking of my hands thanks to the rising fever. But the water spilling over the lip of the container destroys the attempt pretty quickly.
"Let me help." My heart gives flutter as Ash places his hands tenderly around mine, guiding the rim to my mouth. I drink slowly, as much to savour his touch as the water slipping down my dry throat.
"Better?" I nod as he takes the glass from me and puts it to one side, but feel drowsiness flowing swiftly back into consciousness.
"Bit tired though.. .." Emphasised by a huge yawn. I feel myself relax, head nod, and it's almost like I've no control, sleep has overtaken me again so quickly.
"Well just relax, you need your sleep." I hear him reply softly. My mind, floating in the clouds, lets the lips say what they want to say. I don't care, I'm too tired, and Ash is with me.
"Love you.. .." With that, there is nothing but darkness.
Just had to have that at the end. But for what Ash's reaction is, you'll have to read next time.. ..
Don't forget to review!
Dan.