Sorry for the wait, but I was having trouble debating on what was going to happen in future chapters, although I already had this whole chapter written! Plus, I was on vacation, but after a couple reviews reminded me of this story, I figured I had to finally update. Anyways...this sort of answers what several people were asking, but you'll have to read to find out!

And don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon...blahblahblah

Chapter 6: Questions

"Mom, I'm home!" hollered Ash, as he walked in the door. Mr. Mime was closest to the door and cheerfully waved at him.

"Mom?" Ash peered around the corner and walked into the house, looking for Delia.

"Pika?" Pikachu sat upright, its ears twitching.

"Huh? What is it, Pikachu?" Pikachu pointed down the hallway towards the living room.

Ash followed Pikachu's direction until he found his mother in the living room. She was slumped forward over a book in one of the chairs by the bookshelf. It was then when Ash heard her quiet sobs.

"Mom! Mom, what's wrong?" Ash asked as he rushed to her side. He looked down at the book in her hands, but her hair covered the pages.

"Oh, Ash," Delia murmured, touching his face gently.

"Mom, what is it? What's wrong?" Ash insisted.

Delia shook her head. She wiped away her tears, putting on a strained smile. "Nothing's wrong, honey. I was just…just looking back at your book. You know, with all your childhood pictures and newspaper clippings." Delia quickly pushed the book aside before closing it and shoved it back onto the bookshelf. Her index finger lingered for a moment on a spot on the spine.

"Are you crying because I've been gone so long?" Ash asked worriedly.

Delia managed to sit up and look at him in the eye. Then she cupped his face with her hands. "No. It's because you're all grown up."

"Mom," Ash drew out. "I still live here. It's not like I'm moving away for good."

Delia sat back, putting her hands on her chest. "But you've grown up enough to go out on your own adventures." She reached forward and took his hand in hers. "I'm just glad you're back, Ash." Delia had to restrain herself from slipping and saying Red instead. She loved both her sons dearly, and it was almost a miracle that both were back at the same time.

Ash embraced his mother, inhaling her scent, as he felt her warmth envelop him. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll stay here with you. I won't leave so soon again."

Red stood atop his frozen domain, staring coldly out at the cavernous ravine. Once, he had felt scared of the mountain's dominating presence, but now he saw it as nothing less than majestic. His jacket swirled around him; he could feel the icy wind pierce through the fibers of his shirt, but he could hardly feel it.

Red numbly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small picture of a raven-haired boy. It was faded and worn, but one could still distinguish the spiky hair and cap. Red stared at the picture for a long while. So many things were tied to the picture in his hand. He couldn't tell the truth to Ash. He couldn't ever be a normal trainer again. He had lived in absolute isolation and solitude because of it.

With an angry scowl, Red crumbled the picture in his hand. He held his fist over the edge of the howling ravine. His arm shook from of the tension. His eyes burned a deep crimson as they flashed with bottled up emotions and neglected memories. Red began to wind his arm up t throw the crumpled picture as far as he could. Just as he reached 120 degrees, he stopped. He couldn't do it. His entire life and reputation balanced upon it. As much as he wanted it all to be over and for his life to be normal again, he couldn't do it. What would he be without it? No one. No one at all.

Red fell back from the edge of the ravine, stumbling in his steps. His eyes were wide as he opened up the picture in his hand. What had happened to the cheerful boy in the picture? Red shook his head. He wasn't ready. He knew that now, after standing atop the Arceus-forsaken mountain for years. Back then, he had been too young. Too young and innocent and naïve for such a responsibility. For some, they would've called it a great achievement. For him, it was only a curse. He was who he was now because of that event fourteen years ago, and he hated himself.

Red ducked his head down and his arms wrapped around it. He had no strength or ambition. Not anymore. Not like Ash had. He was just an empty shell that had suffered alone for so many years.

Red's thoughts then flickered back to Ash. The kid had no title like he had. He was foolish and naïve and cocky…all that he had once been. But maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Red had to admit that he was special. He cared and was selfless from the stories he had heard. He, on the other hand, was as cold and ruthless as the mountain. Ash was such a better person than he was.

Red crouched down in the snow amongst the howling wind and the bone-chilling hail. He looked back at the picture. His title meant nothing, yet it meant absolutely everything.

"Who could be here at this hour?" wondered Delia, as she descended the stairs hastily. Mr. Mime was already at the door waiting for her.

Delia glanced at the nearest cock. It was nearly two in the morning. Rain cascaded down from the heavens, thudding loudly against the roof. Delia swore she had heard thunder earlier.

"Mime?" Mr. Mime questioned worriedly.

Delia shook her head. "It's all right, Mimey. I'm sure it's fine." She then opened the door to see who in the devil was calling in the middle of the night. She gasped sharply at whom it revealed just as a stroke of lightning illuminated their figure.

There, standing amongst the freezing downpour, was Red. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were unusually darkened. Pikachu was huddled inside his jacket, its eyes shut. Delia, looking at her oldest son, had never seen Red so defeated. His face was shadowed, but not with his usual intimidating demeanor. Instead, he looked almost soulless.

Delia caught one look at how pale her son was and immediately grabbed him and ushered him inside. Her hands dripped from the icy water that soaked his jacket. As she herded him into the other room, she glanced back at Mr. Mime.

"Shut the door, Mimey. And quietly." Delia's eyes darted up the staircase. The last thing she needed was for Ash to see his long-lost half-brother standing there. It was a goo thing that he was a heavy sleeper.

Red sunk down into one of the kitchen chairs while Delia rushed to get him a blanket. When she returned, she wasted no time in stripping him of his soaked jacket before placing the blanket over his broad shoulders. Red's mind seemed to be running at an unusually sluggish pace. He slowly craned his neck to watch as his mother began to boil water for tea, and his hand leisurely stroked the sleeping Pikachu in his lap. As if she could feel his eyes on her, she half-turned, worry flooding her eyes. Her hand reached out to put itself on his head. Then she flipped it over, so she could feel his temperature.

"Mom," Red's voice strained out from between his chapped lips. I'm f-fine. I sat on Mt. Silver for almost a decade."

This made Delia frown even more. "Yes, and I barely had a say in it. Just humor me and let me worry over you for once." Seeing her furrowed brow with her hands on her hips, Red reluctantly revoked his argument.

Delia then placed a large mug of tea in front of him as she slid into the chair across from him. Leaning forward, she grasped his hands in hers. Red met her eyes briefly, causing her to sigh. She lightly squeezed his hand.

"Would you mind telling me why you're here in the middle of the night?" Delia purposefully avoided mentioning Ash, since she suspected that his arrival had something to do with her younger son.

Red looked away, withdrawing his hands to wrap them around the hot ceramic mug. "I want to tell him." Delia's eyes widened, although she was hardly surprised. "But I don't want him to know about the championship." Red's words were solid and unwavering, despite his frigid form.

Delia nodded, gazing down at her hands in thought. "I understand. It's…time." She looked up when she heard a rustling sound. Red was slouched sideways digging for something inside his jacket that was hanging from the back of the chair to the left of him. Delia's eyes narrowed with confusion when he pulled out a small sip of paper.

Red slid the piece of paper across the tabletop to her. Delia picked it up gingerly. The paper was wrinkled from being folded many times, but when she undid the crease, she instantly recognized it.

"I'm sorry I took it before, but I want you to hold onto it for now. I don't want it." Delia looked at Red, her eyes going between the picture and his somber face.

"Are you sure?"

Red nodded, completely serious. "That's the only evidence of it. And the last thing I want is to be reminded of that day."

Delia opened her mouth to speak, but then disagreed upon it. Instead, she grabbed his hand once more and looked directly into his crimson eyes. A small, sad smile touched her lips. "So you finally found it. What the two of you have been searching years for."

Red's eyes wavered questioningly before they darkened in understanding. He finally squeezed her hand back, leaning down to kiss the point where their hands met. He rested his cheek there, closing his eyes. Delia moved over of her hands and put it on his head, stroking his wet, raven hair.

Delia sighed, turning her gaze out the window to watch the downpour outside. Despite the thundering sound it made, it seemed strangely still and quiet. Looking back at her sign, she managed to smile once more. It felt good to be like this again.

Delia's eyes fluttered open, and her lips parted as she exhaled slowly. Then, all that had transpired during the latest part of the night came rushing back to her. She instantly shot up, flipping the covers off of her. Grabbing her robe, she quickly descended the stairs. Her eyes swept over the lower part of the house, searching for her son.

When she entered the living room, her breath hitched in her throat. The couch was vacant, the blankets she had given to Red neatly folded and stacked on the armrest. As she walked nearer, her eyes caught upon a piece of paper atop the pile. With hesitant hands, she picked it up and began to read.

Mom,

I know I said I wanted to tell Ash, and I will. I'll be back in a few days, and then everything can be back to normal. Don't worry about me. I'll see you soon.

Red

Delia's hand went to her forehead. The definition of "normal" in Red's words…why did it cause her concern? Her brown remained furrowed until she head the creak in the hallway upstairs. Delia's eyes widened, and she quickly stood, stuffing the note into her robe pocket.

Ash cheerfully trotted downstairs with Pikachu riding on his shoulder when he found his mother in the kitchen. Her back was stiff, and she seemed tense, making him frown.

"Mom?" Delia spun around, catching Ash standing in the doorway. A smile crawled onto her face, although her eyes seemed oddly hollow.

"Oh, good morning, Ash! Breakfast will be ready in just a minute." She tried to sound cheerful, but she couldn't help but keep thinking about Red.

Ash stepped forward and put his hand gently on her shoulder, causing her to jump. "Mom, are you OK?"

Delia blinked innocently at him. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Ash gave her a doubtful look before he managed a small smile and made his way to the kitchen table.

After Delia put his plate in front of him, a thought came to the aspiring pokemon master. "Hey mom, are there any other trainers around here that have a Pikachu?"

Delia seemed startled at his question. She nervously wiped her hands on her apron. "Why are you asking?"

Ash shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "I dunno, it's just the other day when I was walking back here, I saw this man with a Pikachu. I hadn't seen him before, and then his Pikachu started acting really weird with Pikachu."

Delia's mind drifted off for a moment. She could still recall when Red had come by with a poke egg. He had seemed quite excited over it, saying that his Pikachu and a friend of his' Pikachu had produced it. Then she remembered that night he had left, saying that he had to stop at the professor's lab. The egg had only hatched a few weeks before.

"Mom? Mom?" Delia snapped back to reality, blinking as she looked at Ash again. "Do you know who he is?"

Delia resisted from biting her lip as she debated over how to answer his question. "I've seen him around. He doesn't come by very often, though. I'm sorry." Delia inwardly sighed. Well, it was the truth, just not the whole truth. Thankfully, Ash seemed to accept her answer, although he did seem a bit crestfallen.

Delia turned away and began to clean up. She momentarily shut her eyes. I'm sorry, Ash.