By the time they were back at the end of the ward Linda was dead.
…
"Now, who wants a chocolate éclair?" [the nurse] asked in a loud, cheerful tone.
"Me!" yelled the entire Bokanovsky Group in chorus. Bed 20 was completely forgotten.
- From Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley
Brock the Caretaker
Ash had already prepared himself, so there was no dramatic pause before he opened the gym door. He strode in as easily as if he was walking into a pokémon center, or his own home. Misty and Gary walked behind him, not managing to pull off the same fearless leader look he had. Not that it mattered, as the look vanished the very moment they were able to see what challenge lay in store.
It wasn't because the challenge looked especially hard, as he didn't think it would be anything he would have too much trouble with it, but because Brock was not only in pain, but conscious of it. The eldest boy hung from the wall of his gym, suspended by thick chains carved from pewter. His arms were shackled straight above his head, wrapped in a thick case of rock. On either side of him, a waterfall sprang from the wall, pouring down into a pool. At the top of each waterfall, there was a key hanging from a large, iron loop.
Ash glared. "This is just like yours."
She swallowed, clearing her throat awkwardly. "At least there aren't any bugs."
He glared at her, then glanced at Gary. "Nothing clever to say?"
"He's hanging by his wrists. I'm a little traumatized right now," Gary said, gawking. "If you'd give me a few minutes to get over the sight of someone being tortured, I'll get back to you on that clever comment thing."
"Brock!" Ash called. "Are you alright?"
His head lifted slowly,and his mouth moved as if he spoke, but the water rushed too loud to hear him.
"We can't hear you!" Gary shouted back. "Ash is here! Save your strength!"
Ash had already charged to the back of the gym, and was armpit deep in the water. It was cold, but not worse than river water temperature. The stones he touched were smoother than they should have been for just a couple days of rushing water. They felt like river rocks, the kinds that were rounded and softened by decades and centuries of water, not the choppily cut stones the gym was made of.
He looked back at his friends, most longingly at Pikachu, who was furiously pacing in the shallows, fur puffed out with worry. He walked to the edge and rubbed his ears with a quick "sorry" before walking back out again. He grabbed a stone jutting out through the waterfall, took a deep breath, and plunged in. The rocks may have been slippery, but they were placed for climbing. The hard part was holding on. The water pushed at him, making his clothes heavy and making his muscles strain to just keep him in place. Often, he clenched both hands on a single rock. His sneakers slipped if they moved, so his feet were kept still, and when he did move them, he moved them slowly. Putting his head down against the wall gave him fresh air as the water pounded around him. Leaning away and trying to breathe was harder, but doable. Slowly but surely, he climbed, and he managed to reach the top and seize the key.
Ash sighed with relief, half wanting to laugh, when the water blasted him harder, erupting from the wall as if a dam had suddenly cracked all the way open. He was thrown from the wall and crashed into the water, into a pool that was suddenly much, much deeper. The water pushed him down to the bottom, and it was a struggle to get out of its grasp. When he finally broke the surface, he was swearing.
"Ash, you okay?" Misty shouted.
He grit his teeth and yelled. "I dropped the key!"
"But you're alright?" Gary asked. "You hit the bottom, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but it's deeper now. The key's at the bottom," he said, and rubbed at his eyes. "Damn."
Misty rushed forward, because she could swim much better than he could, but she slammed into an invisible wall just a few inches from the water. She panicked then, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized she couldn't dive in after him if he drowned, that she couldn't help pull him ashore if he tired. She shrieked and pounded at it, hoping to fight her way through, until Gary gently pulled her away.
She and Ash exchanged a look, then Ash nodded, took a breath, and swam down. The pool was about nine feet deep, not that Ash could tell. He just knew that the pool was deep and the rushing water made a current that, wherever the key was, it wouldn't be there for long. The first dive was useless, but he expected that. He spent that dive sitting on the bottom, seeing if he could see any glint of metal. He couldn't, so he pushed to the surface and dove again. That time he really searched. He still came back with nothing. On the eighth dive he had to take a rest to keep from fainting. On the ninth he glimpsed the key and, much to his delight, got it on the tenth. He clutched it and flopped himself onto the rocks, panting.
"Ash, you okay?" Gary called.
"Yeah. Fine." He laughed, and shook the key at them.
"Ash, you idiot!" Misty shrieked, the air around her still crackling with her fury. "Take your pants off!"
"What?" he giggled, rolling to look at her.
"Take your clothes off, you idiot. They're soaked." She watched him as he did, quickly kicking off his wet shoes and socks, his hat and vest and shirt, his pants, and, stupidly, went to remove his boxers as well. She yelped, blush rising to her cheeks, "Oh, Mew, Ash, don't take your freaking underwear off, you moron! I want to keep an eye on you, but I'm not doing it if you're going to climb up naked!"
He laughed again. "You sure about that?"
She rolled her eyes and waved him on. He threw her the key, which sailed through the barrier into Misty's hands. Once he was sure she had caught it, he dove back into the pool to climb the other side. This was harder, even without his clothes. He was tired. He stopped after every step to pant and brace his body for the pain his muscles would be giving him. In more than triple the time it had taken to climb the first, he had made it to the top. This time he grabbed the key and held on tight when the water blasted out and knocked him to the bottom. He didn't drop the key. He swam to the edge again and stretched out an open hand. Misty threw him the key.
This part was only hard because his muscles ached. The climb to Brock was easy, if a little awkward that the two had to be pressed together in a strange hug so Ash could reach the chains that bound him. "Hey, Brock-o," he said, grinning at his friend. "How are you doing?"
"Fine," Brock croaked, swallowing. "Hanging around. You?"
"That's a terrible joke." He chuckled as he examined the lock, then leaned back with a groan. "Brock, I…I don't have anyway to hold onto you. I can't…I'm not strong enough to-"
"I know," he said.
"It's gonna hurt."
"Go ahead, Ash. Waiting isn't going to make it better."
Ash slid the key into the lock fast, and with a click the shackle opened and left Brock dangling by one arm in the air. He cried out, despite being braced for it, but it urged Ash along to grab the chain and used it as a support to lean on, unlocking the other (with the same key, he dimly noticed) and sending Brock tumbling into the water. Ash dove after him, climbing down so he could push off the wall. He skimmed across the water, grabbing the bigger boy and dragging him to the shallows.
"I hit the bottom," Brock groaned.
Misty and Gary were already there. Gary was ripping Brock's clothes off while Misty stood by with her sleeping bag ready to wrap him up. Ash stayed there, letting Pikachu lick and nuzzle him, curled up beside his head. He closed his eyes and listened, realizing the sound of water had stopped and that he was no longer sore from where the rock had scratched and he had hit the wall too hard. He was only sore in his muscles now and tired. He heard Misty and Gary whispering medical terms he didn't know, and the crackle of a sleeping bag as they wrapped Brock up tight. He heard Brock's chattering teeth and ragged breaths. Then, as the adrenaline poured from his system, he fell asleep.
That was when the star-haired man appeared, hovering over Ash with a gleeful grin. That was when Misty lost it.
"You get away from him!" she screamed. Gary grabbed her arm, trying to pull her back and she strained against his grasp.
The man smiled, leaning down to smooth Ash's hair, his eyes never leaving either Gary or Misty's face. "He's tired, isn't he? He's so worried he hadn't been sleeping well." He clucked his tongue slowly. "Poor thing."
"Keep your dirty hands off him!" She shook Gary off and leapt forward, but he grabbed her again, this time hooking his arms in her elbows so she couldn't get away.
"Gary, good job, holding her back," the man commended, straightening.
"She's not the only thing I'm holding back."
"Ooh, nice line." The star-haired man snapped and a blanket appeared in his hands, red and thick and warm. "Ash could use some heat too, don't you think? He's all wet and that water certainly wasn't warm."
She growled. "Keep your blanket. We've got our own. Yours has syphilis or some crap on it, I'm sure."
"Nonsense, I've got to keep the hero safe." He stretched the blanket over Ash and looked back at them, arms swinging lightly. "But I'm not here to talk to him. I'm here for you, Gary."
"Then step away from him!"
He held his hands up and backed away, and Misty rushed to Ash's side. He was snoring. Pikachu was snoring. She breathed a sigh of relief, because snoring meant alive, at least. The strange man could mess with Gary – Gary wasn't tired, or beat up, or a target. Gary would be fine. She swallowed, looking briefly at Gary, and then back to Ash, and noted that the brunette's face had none of the soft roundness that Ash's face had.
"One of the companions has to go home. And it's going to be you."
"Me?" Gary argued. "Send Brock home, the guy's dying."
"He'll be fine," the man promised. "It's about usefulness, you see – and when it comes to saving the world, you're just not useful. Brock can cook and clean and sew, and he knows these kids inside and out. Misty solved the riddles and Ash…well, I can't exactly just let him go, can I?"
"I think you can exactly let him go," Gary growled. "And even if you couldn't, why does anyone have to leave? Ash won me fair and square, you never said anything about having to have a group of three!"
"And what? He gets a whole damned entourage to follow him around? Doing everything for him?" he cried. "It's a challenge! How easy do you want this to be?"
"I'd like it to not be happening at all." Gary smirked, but there wasn't any humor or satisfaction in it.
"You're the one who goes home."
He snorted. "Don't I get to choose?"
"Whoever volunteers is the one to go. But it's going to be you."
"How much time do we have to figure it out?"
"As long as you want." He shrugged. "You just can't leave the city until you tell me who gets to go home."
"Ash and Pikachu aren't waking up," Misty stated, her voice icy.
"Let them sleep. This isn't Ash's decision, after all, it's yours. The sidekicks should get some attention." He grinned. "Who gets to go home?"
Gary looked at Misty. "It has to be Brock. We can't just leave him here and hope he makes it. He needs a hospital, something."
She broke his gaze, a bit of shame flushing her cheeks. "But we need him more than you."
"What?" he gasped.
She repeated, "We need him more than we need you."
"I heard you the first time, I was hoping for an explanation."
"He can cook and clean and do loads of helpful things. You may be able to, but not the way Brock does." She gulped, digging her nails into the heel of her hands. "He can take better care of us than you can, and we get along with him better. He's like our mom."
"You're eighteen, why do you need someone caring for you? Can't you take care of yourself?"
"I can," Misty said with a slight nod.
"And Ash can't?"
"Do you want to take the chance?" Misty snapped. "It takes an argument from either of us to make Ash do anything. If Brock tells him, he'll do it right away. If Ash needs to sleep, Brock will tell him and he'll sleep. If Ash needs to eat, Brock can make him. If Ash needs to stop and think about what he's doing, all it'll take is a word from Brock."
"Well, do you want to go?
She smiled down at Ash. "I hate him, I really do, but I can't leave him. He needs me for the riddles."
He smirked. "You're not useful anywhere but here, Red."
It was quiet, and Misty finally whispered, "Go home Gary."
"I guess this is the end of the conversation, huh?" He laughed flatly. "No more debate?"
"Be safe. Try and figure out who this guy is from the other side."
"You sure?" he said. "I mean, I can solve riddles. It'll take me lo-"
"Gary!" she shouted. He jumped. "Just go home."
"Fine," Gary snapped. "It's me then. I'm going home."
"Perfect." The man sneered.
Then Gary and the star haired man were gone as if they had never been there at all.
So Misty was the only one awake. She stared furiously at the spot they had vanished from, unsure of where to go from there. Finally, she walked to Brock and checked over him once more. His pulse was fast but strong, his breathing labored but deep, and she took care to make sure he was safely wrapped and unable to roll inside the sleeping bag before checking on Ash. After checking what she could on him, surveying his strong, now unblemished body, she settled down between the two boys. Misty had gathered up Pikachu, and she let the mouse sleep in her lap. She watched over them, making sure they still breathed while two fingers pressed and felt the steady heartbeat of the mouse.
Pikachu was the first to wake. Misty held him closer, whispering, "They aren't dead, Pikachu, just sleeping. But Brock is hurt, and he's not getting better. So I'm going to go search the stores for medkits and see if I can find a hospital. We don't have anything helpful in the stuff we already have."
"Pika," the mouse said, nudging her hand.
"They'll be fine. I just have no idea what I'm doing." She smiled. "So I'm going to grab obscene amounts of medical junk and haul it back here and hope someone knows what to do. If Brock wakes up, I'm sure he'll know how to fix himself up. You need to stay and keep watch over those guys."
"Cha," he whimpered, looking longingly at Ash.
"I know. I'm worried too. They'll wake up soon." She took Pikachu from her lap and set him on the stone, giving him one last, long pet before heading out the door.
Pewter was scarier now. The windows were broken, the streets were dirty, and cars were flipped all cross the road. It certainly hadn't been that way the night before. But broken windows were helpful, and she crawled in through a hotel window to find herself a map of Pewter. That was how she found the hospital. With her eyes set hard on the map, she wiggled from the window and plowed through the city, winding down dark alleys to find the quickest way there. She got lost often, but managed to find the place nevertheless.
She strode out of some strange alley, wondering where she was, when she finally saw it. The hospital. It was untouched, with not a bit of graffiti, no broken windows, not even a scrap of paper on the floor around it. It stood over her, the sun glinting off the windows like glaring eyes, daring her to go inside. Her stomach clenched with warning, and she caught herself leaning back, stepping back, as if her very body was repulsed by the idea of stepping inside. She pushed down the fear and stepped towards it, carefully opening the unlocked doors and stepping into the well lit lobby.
There was a list on the wall, like there always was. The directory with arrows pointing and floors listed. She walked up to it and ran her finger down the chart, trying to remember if any of these hospital sections would have what she needed. She didn't know what she needed, however. She hardly knew what half the stuff in the medical kit was for. She hardly knew half the words on the board. She decided to settle for the sprays and shots that fixed up minor wounds like cuts and bruises and set off.
Most of the hospital rooms were empty, the place seeming abandoned rather than unused. Unlike Viridian, which had seemed to be a town full of show houses, this was lived in. Clipboards were laying out, pens flopped on their side. Computer screens flickered with screen savers, most of which had screens half dimmed or half blacked out with age. She decided not to think about the electricity, remembering what it had gotten Gary into. Most of the cabinets she checked were locked, and most of the rooms she walked into were filled with flowers, empty trays, and unmade beds, covered in stiff, rumpled hospital sheets.
She opened a room somewhere on the third floor, and paused, staring at the vase of roses next to the stand. "They're fresh?" she asked.
Misty walked over to them, and carefully ran her finger along a petal. It was real. It was alive. She pulled one out and turned it around in her hands, her mind becoming hazy with the scent and the memories it brought. She snapped herself out of it and put the rose back, and, nervous, backed out of the room as quickly as she could. From that point on, she steered clear of rooms with fresh flowers. Not that she searched for much longer.
"Misty?" A voice said over the speakers. "Misty, to the burn victims unit."
She clenched her fists. "You ass."
"Everything you're looking for is in the burn unit. Full stocked medkits in the burn unit, room six o' three."
"You think it's funny, don't you?" she snarled, glaring around her. "You just love to screw with people, don't you? It's not enough to mess with Ash, you have to get all of his friends while you're at it."
"Misty, your hilarious torture is waiting in room six o' three."
She debated whether or not to go. It was Ash, after all, who was the one being tested. This could really only be a trap. If it was a test, it would be Ash standing where she was. But there was that possibility, however small, that there would be medicine, that he would have exactly what she needed. So, though her toes curled and her teeth clenched, she remembered her friends came first and forced herself up the staircase to the burn unit.
Once she had gone up, she found the map again, scrolling her finger along the list until she found it, yanking her hand back as if the sign itself was hot. Then she turned and continued down the hallway. She hesitated at the doors, because she hadn't prepared herself. Her toes curled inside her shoes. Her fingernails dug into her palms. Then, she flashed out one hand and grabbed the door handle, yanked it open, and stumbled through the door.
Bracing herself didn't make the stench any less unbearable. Her eyes snapped open at the familiar scent, charred remains of living flesh. There were burned bodies charred beyond recognition along the wall. They had hardly any features on them, just slight bumps where the ears and nose were supposed to be, and hollows to mark the mouth and eyes.
She immediately stepped back, head flat against the door. The voice over the loudspeakers continued its taunting drone. "Misty to room six o' three. Misty to burn unit room six o' three."
The redhead put one hand to her nose, shut her watering eyes, and went back into the room. She strode straight forward, unable to sense the burned bodies she knew surrounded her. She put her hand on the wall, feeling for each room. She walked past one, knowing she walked past it as the door was open and her hand fell into open space. Then, just past it, she stopped and backed up, sliding her hand in and around the hole. She felt the bump of the doorframe, and then the flatness of the wall. It wasn't a hallway, and satisfied with that, she continued on.
Past the second door, she followed the same strategy. Again, she assured herself that this wasn't a hallway by reaching in and fumbling around. She walked to the next door, heart racing with the thought that she should have been able to leave the place soon, and reached in. She stepped in and opened her eyes.
"Too far!" the loudspeakers sang.
She was screaming too loud to hear it. The room was full of less charred, identifiable corpses. Ash, Brock, her sisters, other close friends and family. Their clothes were almost intact, but scattered with holes. Her knees went weak beneath her, and she gripped the doorframe to keep her steady. Black faded in and out of the corner of her eyes, and somehow managed to fling herself backward. Her hands slammed over her eyes, laying on the cold tile while she calmed herself.
"Misty, you're needed in room six o' three, not six o' five."
She wiped furiously at the tears. "Stupid. Evens on one side, odds on the other. So stupid!"
"Very stupid, and you even went through the trouble of checking for hallways." She opened her eyes and found the star haired man staring down at her, grinning that infuriating grin. "Any last words, before you frighten yourself to death?"
She blinked up at him, her lips parting to curse at him, and he leaned down to catch her words. Fascinated, she stared up at his face, and suddenly forgot her curses. She breathed in slowly, then murmured, "Why do you look like Ash?"
He leaned forward, just a few inches from her face, and for a moment she was terrified that he would either strangle her or kiss her, then his lips gave the slightest twist up, and he placed a rose in the space between their lips. "Rest in peace."
The flower's scent flowed across her nose, and she was slowly dragged into a memory. The man's face swirled in front of her, and she desperately tried to pinpoint how he looked like Ash, and what the strange expression seemed to be on his face.
She was gone before she had the time to realize either.
Pikachu spent his time hovering over Ash. He did care about Brock, of course, and did turn to check on him every so often, but the bulk of his time was spent pacing around Ash. So Pikachu was aware the exact second Ash's breathing changed. With a happy twitch the mouse leapt onto his chest and pushed his nose against the boy's face, mumbling happy "cha!" noises as he investigated every bit of his trainer.
He laughed, raising a hand to push him off his face. "Hey, buddy. What happened?"
Pikachu cocked his head to the side.
"What happened?" he repeated. "After I saved Brock, did I fall asleep?"
"Pi."
He looked down and frowned at the red fluffy mess that covered him. "Where'd the blanket come from?"
"Chupika," the mouse growled remembering the scent.
"That jerk?" Ash yelped. Pikachu scrambled off him as the boy sat up and ripped the blanket away, tossing it as far as he could. "Why didn't any one take it off?"
"Pikachupi pika," the pokémon whimpered. He flattened his ears and dropped his tail low in shame.
"Misty left?" he asked, spinning to look for her. "And Gary's gone too. They're not…the star haired guy didn't kill them, did he?" Pikachu calmed him and shook its head rapidly. "Well, that's good. At least they're okay."
He rubbed at his eyes. "Is Brock still asleep?"
"No," Brock sighed. "Thanks for asking."
Ash laughed, turning to the older boy. "Hey, Brock. Do you know what happened to everyone?"
"Not a clue." He pushed himself up, and groaned as his body complained at the effort it took to sit. "I don't remember anything after you undid the chains."
"You don't look very good," Ash admitted, afraid to go closer. "I guess you didn't get healed after the challenge either."
He coughed and shook his head. "No, who else didn't get healed?"
"Misty didn't get fixed. Gary and I were healed after the challenges."
"That must be nice."
And, as if he had to say something to throw off the niceness, he blurted, "I killed Gary."
"What?"
"He came back." Ash paused. "I also practically castrated him. But he's okay now. I mean, if he heals you, he really fixes you up."
"Gee, Ash, I'm almost feeling like I didn't go through anything that bad." Brock grinned. "How bad do I look?"
"Honestly?"
"Honestly."
Ash winced. "A walking, talking, corpse."
"Could you lie?"
"If there were girls here, they'd be stealing your phone to program new numbers in." Brock laughed weakly, and Ash smiled with him, then asked, "Do you know what's going on?"
He nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I was conscious through the whole thing."
Guilt yanked at his heart, and he hid his eyes with his hat, tugging it down sharply and ducking his head. "I meant, do you know why you're here? Because…because it's my fault you're here. And I'm really sorry I couldn't get here sooner."
"It's alright. You came." Brock smiled. "It's not like you wanted this."
"Mew no!" he gasped, looking back up.
"So, how-"
Ash interrupted, plunging into the story. He told him that the girl he saved and the star haired man, about all his friends getting captured, and the hero test he had signed up for. He told him about the fake mother, the tests, and the friends he still had to save. And then, thinking of those friends, his voice cracked and he had to stay silent until the feeling passed, because heroes didn't cry in front of the victims, especially not if the victims were the only ones hurt.
"Do you know where Gary and Misty are?" Brock asked quietly.
"No," he said, "but Pikachu said they're fine."
"What are they doing?"
"Raiding the town, I guess. Looking for foods and medicine and anything else we need." Ash swallowed. "Do you need something?"
"I'm fine, Ash."
"You're sure?"
He laughed. "You did a good job, Ash. I'm fine."
She was decently drunk. Not really, of course, because one small part of her knew that she was only remembering, but she definitely remembered being decently drunk. Her eyelids were heavy with rose flavored sake and good food and long periods of bonding with her older sisters. Daisy used a cool hand to smooth her hair back and, when the eldest sister got no response, pushed Misty's bangs back and caught her eyes. "Are you alright, kiddo?"
"I'm drunk," she informed sleepily, leaning into the hand. "How come you're not?"
"Because you're the only one who drank yourself under the table," Violet giggled. "Stupid."
"I'm not," she protested weakly, raising her head. "My tongue feels weird. Give me something to drink and make the weird go 'way." Her hand groped blindly for the bottle, and she brought it to her lips. They clamped shut around the bottle and she tossed her head back, appalled to fine the thing empty. She pulled it away, slamming it on the table and looking at it with a betrayed horror in her eyes. "It's gone!"
The other three laughed. "That's how you know when you've had enough."
"That's how you know, I'm learning my limit." She grinned and leaned into Daisy's side. "Give me s'more. I'm not drunk enough yet."
Lily promised, "You're plenty drunk."
"You don't know that. You don't know if I'm drunk." She said, her eyebrows knitting together. "And you're always babying me! I can out drink any of you. Just because you have to stop doesn't mean I do."
Lily sighed, "You're getting emotional, Misty. You're going to regret it in the morning."
"Prove it!" she shouted, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "I'm not crying! I'm just mad because you won't let me drink!"
Then her head fell into her hands and she broke down sobbing, pulling her legs up to her chest. The others rolled their eyes and scoffed and Daisy put her arm around the youngest, who only cried harder and exclaimed, "Mom is dead and you're a terrible substitute!"
"I don't know how she can say all those big words…drunk," Violet said, staring. "That's probably alcoholism."
"Ignore the buzzkill, we're all officially drunk," Lily said cheerfully. "That means it's time to reveal secrets. Have you screwed Tracey yet?"
"Of course she hasn't!" Misty gasped, jerking out of Daisy's arms.
"You don't have a crush on him, do you?" Lily accused.
"Of course not," she said spicily. "He's Tracey. And you don't kiss Tracey. Or Brock. And you're not supposed to…to kiss Ash either. That's a secret rule." She held a finger to her lips, leaving the tears staining her face. "There are lots of secret rules." Her head fell back down to her knees, and she began sniffling again.
"Well, I haven't," the blonde denied.
"Want to?"
"Of course she wants to. Everyone wants to have sex with everyone," Misty snorted, as if this was an extremely obvious fact. "But it's a rule. It's a rule not to. You can't break the rule, Daisy. Everything breaks if you break the rules. They're important. They're important."
"Well, I want to, but he likes…" She trailed off, glancing down at Misty.
"He can't like me," she whispered. "You should fall in love with him. You're not going crazy. I am. And I have Aiden anyway. I don't need Tracey. I've got Aiden."
"Stop that," Daisy scolded. "You're not going crazy."
"Am too! It's happening!" she cried, clutching to her sister's arm. "Water douse the fire, soon to be released. Thousands years pass us by and then love will feel the heat." Her face crinkled again. "I think. I might have said it wrong."
Daisy shook her off, scowling. "I said, stop it. Those are fairy tales."
"Mom said they were real." She buried her head in the woman's chest. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but I don't want to go back. I don't want to burn."
Violet grinned. "Did someone slip her something?"
"You know how mom was," Lily said. "Once Misty showed promise as a leader she went crazy over it. She got all those creepy stories stuck in her head."
"But…" Daisy swallowed. "Isn't it possible?"
"Oh, Days, don't tell me-"
"No, I don't mean…" She sighed. "After everything she's done with Ash. Doesn't it…doesn't it make you doubt how much of that stuff was a lie?"
"Daisy, they're fairy tales," Violet snorted, waving her hand in the air to order another bottle. "They're in a fairy tales books, right between magical superpowers and Atlantis."
Misty raised her head slowly. "It's real, but it's okay if you don't believe me." She kissed her sister's cheek. "It's okay, Daisy. It'll be okay, even when I go crazy."
Then she was back on the tile floor, a rose on her lips and the star haired man standing over her. "You look less bitchy when you sleep. I should knock you out more often."
"There's no medkit here," she accused, blowing the rose off her face with a scowl.
"No."
She crossed her arms. "You made this to screw with me."
"Yes," he giggled.
"Is there a reason why it's me?"
"Yes."
"Is it my fault?"
"No.
"Are there others?"
"Yes."
"Why us?"
"It's in the book."
"And why are you telling me?"
He smiled, and his voice was cold and calculating as he leaned against the wall and looked down at her, "Because when the time finally comes that I kill you, when you're broken and beaten, to make it all still hurt and keep you sane, you need something positive to cling onto. And that something to cling to is knowing that you were completely innocent."
His words didn't scare her, not at this point. Not because she had agreed to the death, or was prepared for it, but merely completely denied it thanks to the idiocy of youth. Instead, she stared at him. She took in those features, because the features were human. The hair was different, and the skin was different, but the features weren't. The features were familiar. And looking into the shape of his eyes and the curve of his mouth, she asked, "Why do you look like Ash?"
He frowned. "Don't ask that again."
She rolled to her stomach and put her head in her hands, smirking up at him. "Why do you look like Ash?"
He slashed at her viciously and she cried out more in surprised than pain, her back sporting four shallow gashes across it from where he raked. His fingernails dripping with blood and skin he shrieked, "He looks like me, you bitch!" and vanished.
She panted, pushing her face to the cool tile floor. The cuts stung, but they were simple and childish, nothing worse than what she could have gotten from an unruly younger cousin. There was no deep set ache, no paralyzing pain. It was a little human wound. Once she realized that, she shrugged her shoulders and rolled her head and flipped to her back, letting the cool tile soothe her back. And, once a few minutes had passed and the sting had settled into a pain so dim she had to think to find it, she made her way back to the gym.
"Misty!" Ash cried.
She grinned. "Sorry I came back empty handed. The city's a ghost town."
"Where's Gary?"
"Home," she said, and at their sharp glances muttering, "We'll talk about it later."
"What happened to you?" Brock said.
Misty quickly spun to face him, realizing her back must have bled through her shirt when she had pressed herself on the floor. She scowled at herself for not thinking to check, then scowled at him for caring. "Now, don't you dare start worrying. I've got a couple scratches from climbing through broken windows. I came here to bring you medical care from your horrible shackling and hanging and rock hitting thing."
"Just take off your shirt," Brock snorted. "I'm not going to look."
"Who said this is about looking?" she snapped.
"I won't look either. Who'd want to?" Ash taunted. "You'd blind them with your ugliness."
"Ash, I hate you."
"Come on, take it off," Brock said, and they both ignored Ash's wolf whistles.
"It's just nails. It's not like someone stabbed me. You're hurt." She paused, and added, "And, trust me, you're going to be hurt."
"Nails or glass?"
She blushed at the man. "Glass. I meant glass."
"Who knows if there are germs in this place? You have to stay clean, even if it stings." Brock grinned. "I'm not going to keep calm unless I know you're okay."
"Brock," she argued weakly. "You've been through worse!"
"And the shock is fading. All that's wrong now is sore wrists and extreme exhaustion."
"You're impossible."
Misty sighed finally, sitting down on the cold stones in front of him and tugging her shirt off. She clutched it to her chest and glared at the farthest wall while Brock examined it. There were a few long cuts, but they were extremely shallow, hardly bleeding. Brock searched the medkit they had brought and found something to clean it, though it wouldn't heal any faster than normal. He smoothed the cream on her back, and she arched away, gripping her knees, holding her breath against the pain.
"So that's what you were hiding," he joked.
"What?" she asked.
"The bra. It's blinding."
She laughed. It wasn't blinding. It was a nearly neon yellow sports bra that was ratty and tattered but nice enough to press her beasts flat so she could run without pain. It had stains, several from each sister that had worn it before passing it on, but had been washed almost clear away by lots of bleach and loads of time in the washing machine. Ratty hand-me-downs were constant, and for the first time she realized she was dressed in ratty hang out clothes.
"You should have seen it when Daisy first got it. I swear, it glowed in the dark."
Brock paused to think while Ash joked about why one would need a glowing bra, then jumped in with: "You guys should pick up clothes while we're here."
"I got an extra set," the younger boy said, holding up his backpack.
"Coats, scarves, bathing suits?" Brock asked. They gawked at him. "You two didn't think about this?"
"Hungry," Ash said sheepishly. "We were too busy thinking about the important stuff."
Brock rolled his eyes. "Clothes have a purpose other than just looking pretty you know."
"Blasphemy!" Misty gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth in horror.
"Yeah, the blasphemy is that I can see your-"
"Ash!" she yelped and gathered her shirt back up, yanking it over her head to shield herself. "You jerk!"
"You see me in my underwear all the time!"
"Yeah, well, it's not exactly a delight, Ketchum."
"Is it just me or did the arguments get worse?"
"They're worse," they said together, then glared at one another in protest.
"Well," Brock sighed, "this is going to be quite the experience."
A special thanks to Siran 774, my formale beta reader, and jackinafrickinbox, my in depth reviewer, for finding all my errors and making it presentable to the world.
