May's Rule of Three
"It's really nice to have you around, Trace," she had said, had wondered why her cheeks felt hot to say it. And Misty looked at the moment through glass, pounding and screaming for it to stop, but the flashback rolled on. "I don't think I could have handled all this without you."
Misty heard him laugh over her screams. "Sure you could've! You handled it fine without me before I showed up. You're a strong girl, Misty. You can take care of yourself."
She had smiled. "Yeah, you're right, but that doesn't mean you weren't fantastic. You were." She had wanted to do something, put her hand on his shoulder or hug him or snatch up his hand, but she had settled for saying as wholeheartedly as she could," I really appreciate it."
He had put his arm around her shoulders. "It was no problem. I enjoyed it."
"But we hardly know anything about each other," she had blurted. Misty's shrieking grew louder, and the glass wall before her smeared red from the blood of her fingertips. "I mean, like families and stuff. We obviously know a lot about one another but not, like, basic stuff."
Misty finally felt the ache settle into her hands and arms, the raw pain at her throat from screaming, so she stepped back in silence, unable to do anything but watch. It had already happened, and no matter how much she wanted it to, nothing was going to change.
For the first time in a long time, Ash woke up to the smell of food. It wasn't a sandwich in a cold bag, or travelling food, or even a dry bowl of cereal. It was the hot smell of eggs and bacon and pancakes that instantly made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. His eyes opened slowly and there were his friends, Misty sitting on the other side of his bed, shoveling pancakes in her mouth while Saturday morning cartoons blared on the screen, while Brock was apparently taking his turn reading the dusty old book.
"Morning," he mumbled, sitting up with a yawn.
"Morning!" Misty chirped, any signs that her dream had disturbed her completely wiped from her face. She crossed her right hand over her chest to grab his plate, then set it gently on the bed. "There's yours."
"What, no hashbrowns?" She rolled her eyes and he pressed, "Or sausages? The service here is crap."
"But the food is worth the wait," Brock retorted, grinning with pride.
Ash wasn't about to argue, and sat up quick, scooping up his plate and gulping the delicious meal down as fast as he could. He only stopped to moan at the first bite, then plowed on without a single interruption. He ended up finishing and licking his plate before Misty, and, assuming Brock had long since finished, Ash gave Pikachu a scratch behind the ears and walked into the bathroom to take a shower. He wasn't exactly sure why, especially considering he was going to save May and he was certainly going to be covered in grime in an hour or so, but he really felt like taking a shower that morning.
When he came out, Misty giggled, "Eucalyptus."
"What?" he asked.
"It's a plant," Brock explained. "It's probably what the soap you used smells like."
Her giggles intensified. "That's what Lily puts on to fight off bug bites when she goes running!"
"What's so funny about that?"
She shook her head. "It's like you're wearing lavender! It's just so…"
Brock hid his smile behind the book. "She thinks you smell like you're wearing girl perfume."
"It's not perfume!"
"I know," she said, biting her lip, "but now all I can think of is you with long pink hair, Ashley!"
She burst out laughing, and seeing that her tray of food was picked clean and out of her hands, he gave her head a rough shove and let her topple to the floor. Ignoring her yelps of exaggerated pain, Ash looked over at the most responsible companion and asked, "So, did you find anything?"
"It's like Misty said – mostly lists of dead in wars, lists of births and marriages, the stuff that people had to keep close track of before they had computers. Their priorities aren't really telling the story." Brock shrugged. "That probably all would have been done orally, anyway, and just for children."
"So this is the real deal?" Ash inquired. "It's an actual old book?"
"Oh, yeah," Brock nodded. "If it was anything close to modern all these names would be cut out and we'd just have the story. So either his name is somewhere in this list of names, or he's just trying to distract us so we can't find the real one."
"But he gave us the book so we could figure out who he was! Why is he making it so hard?" Ash complained.
"Oh, gee, I don't know," Misty said, climbing back on the bed and smoothing her wild hair. "Personally, I think it could be because he's an ass, but that's just an educated guess."
Ash sighed. "I know."
"Oh, and it's also my educated guess that the moon comes out at night and my hair is red. But, you know, those are just-"
He groaned now. "I know. I got it. He's a jerk. We still don't know if he's even in that stupid book at all. And, even if he is, who knows if that's gonna help us beat him! We could just find out that he's unstoppable, or he could just change the book and make it sound like he's unstoppable. Or plant a fake weakness or-"
"He plays too fair," Misty muttered. "He's not perfect, but he plays very fair."
"He told me he would cheat and give me nightmares."
Ash swallowed hopefully. "He didn't?"
"No, but I had some trouble getting to sleep because he freaked me out."
"He's playing his game." Misty shrugged. "You know, I don't think this guy really cares if he wins or loses and long as he makes everyone's lives a living hell while doing it. I mean, he doesn't get anything if he wins or loses. He's not trying to do something evil and you're stopping him, he hasn't made a bet with you, whether he wins or loses everything stays the same for him."
"He's got to want something," Ash argued.
"Maybe he's just a sick freak."
"Yeah, he's a sick freak, but even they want something." Ash frowned, rolling chimchar's pokeball around in his hands. "He could have put me on a rack and tortured me, or captured all of you and tortured you in front of me. He could have done loads of things that are just as bad, but he chose to set up this whole thing. He has to get something out of doing all this or else he would have done something easy. I mean, you don't do something if you don't get something out of it!"
"Any ideas on what he's getting?" Brock asked.
"Off," Misty contributed.
"What?"
"He's getting off." She snorted. "Bet you anything he's getting-"
"I bet it's connected to why he didn't beat up Gary, but he beat up you guys," Ash said slowly, the rusty gears in his head slowly grinding on. "So what makes you different from Gary that would make him hate you, but not him?"
"It'll be easier once we found May," Misty said. "If she's hurt or healed, then we'll have a better idea. We already know it doesn't have anything to do with gender, probably not appearance, and it doesn't seem like it has anything to with the order you met us in. Maybe it's the travelling partners? Gary never really travelled with you, but Brock and I did."
Ash said gravely, "And so did May and Max and Dawn."
"Then maybe he just doesn't like Misty and me," Brock said. "Or maybe it was just some random thing."
Ash pushed to his feet. "Well, only one way to find out."
The walk up the Petalburg Gym steps was strange. For a moment, he didn't feel like he was saving May, but rather that she was behind him, and Max behind her, and Brock was off chasing some girl while he clutched a hand around grovyle's pokeball and wished himself luck. Then, in a flash, it was gone and he was at the door, hand pressed flat against it, bracing himself for whatever was hiding inside. With only a brief hesitation he threw the door open and stepped into the large, plain gym.
She was the only thing in there, standing, a metal collar looped around her neck and heavy chains holding her back to the wall. Her blue eyes widened and she managed to gasp, "Ash!" before her knees gave out and she collapsed to the floor. May's hands came up to the collar, her fingers digging into her skin as she opened her mouth wide and choked for the that had so quickly been cut off from her.
"May!" Ash immediately dropped his bag and raced to the brunette. The stainless steel ring was tight on May's neck, the metal warm from her skin as it seemed to shrink under his fingers, harder and harder as she desperately tried to find a way to fill her lungs. It dug into her skin so that he couldn't get his fingers under it, and his fingertips and nails simply skidded over the metal when he grabbed at it.
Her eyes were glazing over with panic and oxygen deprivation, and they were staring up into his. He refused to look into those baby blues, forcing himself to look down as he tugged more fiercely at her collar. Ash promised himself that those eyes would still be bright the next time he looked at him, that they wouldn't go dim. He swallowed thickly and bent close, whispering, "I'm trying, May. I'll get it off, I swear. I swear I'll get it off. May, I promise."
Then the star haired man was sitting next to him, his legs crossed in a yoga position and his mouth twisted in a macabre smile. "You know what does it? What sets the choking off? It's a great idea, really. My favorite so far."
"How do I get it off?" he bellowed, spinning and pinning the man to the floor.
He grinned, pearl white teeth eerier against his swirling, milky skin. "See, it's hope. Whenever she starts thinking that there's a way out, when someone will save her, it chokes her. Isn't that great? I kept her alive before, but I won't this time." He drummed his fingers on the wooden floor, his nails clicking like a persian's. "What was it that Misty had you recite earlier? I think it was something about threes?"
"Hope?" Ash snarled, digging his nail's into the stair-haired man's shoulders. "Whenever she's hopeful you-"
"Choke all those good feelings right out of her." He giggled. "Don't you love it?"
"Hope?" he repeated. Ash sprang off of him and back to May. He breathed quickly, giving her little to no warning so she couldn't brace herself. "This'll help."
And then he slammed her head against the floor and knocked her out. Her body went limp immediately, her eyes rolling up in the back of her head and the collar easing off. He heard her breathe, though, deep, slow breaths that let him know all was well.
"Send her home," he whispered.
The man giggled. "No!"
"Please. You know she's the one going home, so just let her go home."
"No."
"Why?"
"You have to save her, Ash. I can't send her home until you do. Figure it out, Ash. You have everything you need." The star haired man stretched and stood, sauntering over to the companions who waited by the door of the gym, faces twisted in a grimace. He sauntered away, and stopped a few inches away from the sidekicks, and leaned on the invisible wall that a Mr. Mime could have created. "Such strong people. You're gym leaders who take on numerous trainers daily, who are the symbol of strength. Held back by an invisible wall. What does that feel like?"
The redhead warned, "If you hit him, he hits you back twice as hard."
"Ash told me," Brock growled.
She pressed back to the star haired man just as hard as he did, the two separated just by centimeters of the invisible substance, and she stared him down with every bit of anger she could muster. When she spoke her voice was surprisingly calm and even, whispering, "Let me help him."
His lips twisted up. "No."
"Why not?"
"Why do you think?" he snorted. He took a step back, putting one of his hands inside his pocket and raising the other one with a deliberate, loud, snap. As he always did, he vanished, leaving nothing between them and the shrieking boy beyond.
"What am I supposed to do?" Ash shouted. "Melt it off and burn her neck? That'd probably kill her! I don't think I can crack it by heating and cooling it real fast, not like I could do anything without a water or ice type!" He swallowed thickly. "What do I do?"
"It has to be something simple, Ash," Misty cried, still pressed against the wall. "It's not a riddle! Stop thinking about it so hard! Think simple think about stuff you've done before!"
He slammed his fists against the floor. "I don't know what to do!"
"Ash, breathe," Brock said. "You don't have a time limit anymore. The collar won't kill her now, you did fine. So calm down, look around, and see if you can figure out what you have to do."
Ash grit his teeth, and dug his nails into his palms, trying valiantly to calm himself down. It didn't work very well, but after a few minutes of shaky breathing and trying to force his heart rate to slow, he felt his mind clear enough to focus. The boy leaned forward and began to examine the collar, gently running his finger along the smooth edge for some sort of latch or bump or…he paused. A hole. One the left side on her neck, a small, key shaped hole.
"Hey," Ash whispered, his mind running over the past challenge. "I used one key."
He spun around. "Misty, my bag!"
"What?"
"My bag! The key!" he shouted. "Get it for me!"
She didn't ask again. She upended his bag immediately, Brock right beside her, and they sorted through the junk until they found the rusty old key. Brock held it for a second, putting his hand on the invisible wall, and with only a frustrated grunt, Misty snatched the key away from him and hurled it at Ash. The key passed through the wall without a problem, landing a few feet away from Ash. He scrambled for it, grabbed it, then shoved it into the hole with a powerful twist. The ring turned to metal dust, falling across her neck and the floor like silver sand.
Ash stared at her for a moment, hoping, but nothing happened. She was free, but she didn't wake up. He sat back, horrified. She wasn't healed. He had knocked her out, slammed her head against the floor, and she wouldn't be healed from it. He tried to shout for his friend, but only managed to croak out, "Brock?"
The oldest boy grabbed the medkits and rushed over, immediately going through the standard exam on the girl. Unable to help, Misty and Ash stood back, Ash simply staring while Misty packed Ash's bag up once again. The minutes ticked by, but, finally, Brock lifted May in his arms and said, "We need to get her into a bed."
"Is she-" Ash began.
Brock cut him off, "She'll be okay."
"What happened to her?"
He frowned then sighed, "She has a head wound, Ash. That's it."
"That's it?" Ash whispered. "It was just me?"
"She would have been dead otherwise," Brock comforted. "It was all you could do, and she's going to be fine."
"He should be here! She should go home with hospitals and doctors and-"
He sighed. "You have to calm down. We'll do what we can and that's it. We don't want to deal with him anymore than we have to."
"But May-"
He was cut off again, this time by the girl. "-will be fine. Remember, we've saved her, and there's more to be saved. We have to start thinking ahead. Tell me the rule of three, Ash."
"He gives them what they need-" he said, starting to tug away.
Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Three minutes without air, three hours without shelter, three days without water, three months without food, and what's the last one?"
"It doesn't matter!" he snapped.
She shook him. "Dammit, Ash! What's the last one?"
"Three months without hope!" he shouted, and then, unheroically, broke down crying.
They set May down on a bed, surrounding her with pillows and covering her in blankets. Once there, Brock examined her a little more thoroughly, and said that she should have woken up fairly quickly. They watched over her, but she showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. Instead, they tried to take comfort in the fact that she was still breathing, that her heart was still beating and her bruises were fading.
Misty looked up from the book that she was once again taking her turn to read. "You know what your curse is?"
"That I can smell Brock cooking dinner from here?" Ash asked.
"And hark, the hero stands in glory, and cried down to the crowd, 'I will slay the salamance, of that you need not doubt'."
He grinned weakly. "Are you trying to distract me?"
"You're all cocky bastards," Misty replied airily, as if he hadn't spoken. "Every last one of you Chosen Ones. You know what happens to this guy?"
"He wins a tournament and lives happily ever after?"
She rolled her eye and held the book back up again. "The heat erupted through its throat, and when his sword glowed red, the Chosen One was naught but ah-embers, the Chosen One was dead."
"Did you change it because it said ashes?"
"No," she muttered, ducking her head.
He sighed. "It's fine, you know. It's not like another prophecy is going to burst out of nowhere. I mean, what else is there to be afraid of at this point?"
She scolded, "Don't tempt him."
"I will," Ash shot back. "He can't do a thing to me."
"See? Cocky, the lot of you. The only good thing about this damn book is that it's not written in that old age stuff. Then we'd have major translating issues."
He sighed, deciding to let her distract him. "What do you mean?"
"The 'this is the way in which cheese is made. First, you must take milk from your cow. Then, you must beat the milk with sticks to ensure its holiness.' I couldn't stand that. I'd slaughter someone."
"Are you counting your blessings?" he giggled.
"I guess."
"That's weird."
"Why's that weird?"
"Because you're usually such a buzzkill."
"Oh, nice."
"Like you're not."
"I freaking hate you." They were quiet for a moment, and when the world began dissolving around her and she was nearly asleep, she shook her head rapidly and focused hard on the words that swirled in front of her. That didn't work, so she set the book down encouraged, "Tell me about her."
"Why?" he asked.
She smiled. "You care a lot about her, don't you? Tell me why."
"I'm not in love with her, if that's what you're thinking." Her smile faltered. "It's weird, with May. She was the first person who…who needed me. She was the first person I had to protect, and not just when the world ended. She was…I don't know. She looked up to me."
She glared. "And we don't?"
He laughed a bit. "Of course not, Mist."
"I look up to you, you ass."
"Yeah, I know. I'm a her-"
"No!" she blurted, then quieter, "No. I don't look up to the Chosen One. I look up to you."
He snorted. "For what?"
"You're nice. You're trusting. You're sweet." She shrugged. "I'm not. I look up to you for that. I want to be that."
"But I'm an idiot."
"Well, I don't want to be you. I want to be parts of you. I don't worship the ground you walk on." She paused, looking at the girl on the bed for a while. "Is that what May does?"
"No!" he cried. "Of course not!"
"But you're…" She thought. "You're her hero, then?"
"I dunno. Maybe."
"It's a lot of pressure, isn't it?" she leaned forward, blue green eyes wide. "Being someone's hero?"
"I guess."
His answer seemed to disappoint her, and she settled back with a sigh. "Well, I'll always remember your absolute worst, Ketchum, so you'll never worry about hero worship from me."
"Thanks for knowing I suck." He hugged his knees to his chest. "Do you think she'll be alright?"
"Honestly?"
"Yeah."
"I know she'll live, but I've got no clue if she'll be alright. I'm not doctor." She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Ash."
"Mist, have you ever wanted to kill someone?"
"Wanted?" She thought, tossing casual memories aside and banning one very important flashback from her mind. "Not seriously."
"I do," he whispered. "I want to kill this guy. I want to put my hands around his neck until he stops breathing. I want to."
She shook her head. "You can't."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not supposed to be a killer, Ash!" she hissed. "You're not meant to kill."
"Don't you want him dead?" he snapped.
"Not if you're the one who does it!"
"Why not?"
She gripped his hand tightly, the book cast aside and her fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. "Ash, I've killed someone. Say it's on accident, say it's on purpose, I don't care. It happened. You can never, ever go through that. I won't let you."
"Why?" he growled. "You think I can't handle it?"
"I think you're too damn good for it, you good for nothing…" She was shaking, and shut her eyes tight to hold back the tears. "Please don't be a killer, Ash."
That was the best thing he could do, because he could fix that. Because that could make him feel important. Because, now, he could squeeze her hand back and promise her with absolute conviction, "I'll try."
Despite their vigilance and care, two days passed and May still hadn't woken up. Brock had hooked up an IV from a nearby hospital, though he had no idea how to get food into the girl's system. They now took turns keeping watch, with one in the room and two sleeping or searching for food and supplies. Ash rarely was given the chance to watch over her, Misty and Brock constantly pushing him out of the room over fear that his worry would get the best of him.
"Ash?" Misty asked quietly during Brock's shift.
"Yeah?"
"Will…" She swallowed. "Can we hug?"
Ash blinked, sitting up in his bed and looking over at her. "What?"
"Hug," she said. "I don't…I don't want to do anything, or talk. I just…whenever I was feeling like this I could go play with my pokémon or just run off in the woods for a while. I can't do that here. So…so could we hug?"
"I guess," he said awkwardly.
She frowned, flopping back in bed. "If it's that big a problem, you don't have to."
"I know," Ash said hurriedly. "I want to, really. I just don't want to hug you and then you'll have a weird mood swing and you'll punch me in the face."
"I won't," she retorted. "I just want a hug. If you don't want to, I can go to Brock instead, you ass."
"I said I'd hug you!" he protested.
She crossed her arms, scowling and blushing, "Well, you better get over here before I go to someone better."
He walked over and sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her gracelessly. Her body still felt strange against his, all bony and stiff and surprisingly cold skin for someone with such a hot temper. But, soon, her body relaxed against his, her muscles loosened and her head leaned back into his shoulder, shivering just the slightest bit. He held true to his request and did not talk or hug tighter or attempt to console her. He was simply there, an extremely warm, soft rock to lean on.
Eventually her shivers stopped and she was no longer a limp body resting on his, but awake and calm once more. "Thank you."
"Yeah," he said. "No problem."
She didn't move from her spot on his chest. "You didn't have to."
"I know."
"So why did you?"
"You asked me to!" he fumed.
She clucked her tongue. "Not that. I mean, why did you do it? We're not that close anymore, right?"
"I think we still are," he argued. "I know lots of stuff about you and you know me pretty well."
"Doubt it." She sighed. "You were better than I was though."
"I was?"
"You always sent me a present on my birthday. You called whenever you had something exciting to tell me. I never did any of that for you." She took his hand softly, not sure what she was doing. "I was just nice to you whenever you called."
"Well, that's something."
"Why'd you keep contact with me?"
"Because we're friends," he said, chuckling. "I like you, and I like talking to you, so I kept doing it. I guess you don't feel the same way."
"I do," she said softly. "I…I missed you."
"Missed me?"
"Yeah. Traveling with you and…and I just missed you. I don't want to because I can't travel with you anymore and I just want to stop talking to you so I can get over you!" She groaned, grasping his hand tight. "You know, you're impossible to forget."
"Sorry." He laughed.
"I'm trying really hard to hate you."
"It doesn't look like it's working," he noted.
"Not really." She scooted closer to him and smiled. "But we're stuck here for a while, so I guess it doesn't matter. Besides if I'm lucky this is all a weird dream and when I wake up I can hate you all over again."
"I really am afraid of snakes."
Her face wrinkled up in confusion. "What the…why the…" She looked up at him. "Explain."
"We're having a personal moment, but I don't have anything that personal. So, yeah, I'm really afraid of snakes."
She snorted. "Thanks for sharing, Ash."
"And I hate grapefruit. It's disgusting."
"I've seen you eat grapefruit."
"Yeah, but I don't like it."
"Then why do you eat it?"
"Because sometimes we've only got grapefruit and I got really hungry."
She rolled her eyes and nestled into him, swearing that she'd go back to hating him tomorrow. But for now, he was warm and she was bored and he was always good to talk to, no matter whether she hated him or had her heart beat just a little faster the closer he got.
The next day, May wake up. Amazingly, perfectly, she yawned and stretched, sitting up like she had just had a good night's sleep instead of been in a coma for the past three days. She smiled at everyone who was sitting in her room, the three of them eating their gourmet lunch prepared by Brock with all the fanciest ingredients, and smiled broadly at them with a calm, "Hey, that smells great!"
"May!" Ash shouted, throwing his arms around her. His half empty plate clattered on the table, and Brock (although no less happy for May being awake) too the opportunity to steal the warm goat cheese from his salad before brushing his hands off and heading to May's side as well.
She laughed, hugging him back. "Hi, Ash! Thanks for getting me out of there."
"And I'm getting you out of here, too."
The brunette pulled away, frowning. "You aren't coming?"
"Not yet." He shook his head slowly.
She scanned the room. "You're staying?"
"Both of us," Brock clarified.
"Why am I going, then? Shouldn't I stay?"
"Because you can't solve the riddles and you aren't Brock," Misty said tightly. "You'll be better off at home."
She looked at Misty for a moment, then back at Ash for some type of confirmation, and agreed, "Okay."
"That's it?"
"I guess so." May shrugged. "Is there supposed to be something else?"
"No fight or anything?" Misty insisted.
"You guys know what you're going," she said, eyes lingering on Ash. "So, if you think I should go, then I'll go."
Green eyes rolled. "You really took care of her, didn't you?"
"What do you mean?" May giggled awkwardly, looking between the two of them.
"Nothing," Ash said. "Now we just need to find the jerk who brought you here."
As his typical, conveniently timed self, he was suddenly there. He scowled viciously, leaning over the bed and grabbed May roughly by the elbow. "Fine," he spat, eyes glaring into Ash's. "I'll take your precious friend back home, Ketchum. Since she's a-o-fucking-kay."
"What, was she supposed to die?" Ash shot back.
"Yes. That was what I was rooting for."
"Well, you lost," Brock said coldly. "We won this round."
"Ash won. You stood on the sidelines and clapped your hands for him." He gripped her elbow harder, and they vanished with a cutoff squeak of pain from May.
"I can't believe she didn't fight to stay," Misty said slowly. "I would have fought to stay."
"Me too," Brock agreed.
Ash shook his head. "But May isn't like that."
"This isn't about her," Misty snapped. "Brock, you would have too?"
"I always do."
"But I don't." She frowned. "I can't believe I would have fought to stay."
Ash rolled his eyes. "You fight over whether something is white or cream!"
"That's not the point, you idiot."
"Then what is?" Ash snapped.
Brock explained, "You don't have a choice, Ash. You have to stick it out until the end. We do. We should be fighting over who gets to go home, not who has to."
His eyes lit. "You want to stay?"
"I'd never leave you alone at a time like this."
"I must have hit my head," Misty muttered.
"Not a hate hug then?"
"It was a hate hug and I still hate you."
He grinned, nudging Brock. "She so likes me."
"Shut up, Ash!" She growled, throwing her covers over her head. "And, yes, Mr. Worried, I'm sure May was brought home safe."
"How did you-?"
"Because you always worry," she retorted. "The man plays fair. May's home safe."
There was nothing to do but press her face against the glass. "Why did you give me this stupid dream?"
"I don't know why you're such a fascination to me," he whispered, his icy body pressed against her back. "It probably has something to do with how you can never stay away from Ash. You always come back to him, and you always fall for him. It's funny, how fate is."
"You're not a man, are you?" she said quietly.
"You know that."
"You know what I mean," she said. "You know exactly what I mean."
"This is yours, for once." She felt his lips soft on her cheek, just a peck. "Oh, dearest, this dream is all yours."
"What, is Misty not your real name?"
"Sort of," she had said, smiling slightly. "But my full name's stupid."
He had laughed. "Oh, it can't be that bad."
"It is!" she had argued. "Maybe I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours."
"Tracey Sketchit," he shot back.
"Your full name."
Misty held back tears, whispering, "If it's not you, why don't you make it stop? Do something else. Something that's fun for you."
"Quiet," he snapped. "I'm watching."
Her eyes had widened with hilarious glee. "You go by your middle name?"
"I like Tracey better. It's got what I do right in the name. Trace."
"Tracing is cheating, Sketchit," she had retorted.
Tracey had blushed. "You'd better not start calling me that."
She had giggled. "You're only encouraging me!"
She had spun around to tease him some more, but was met by him bending down to kiss her. She had been too stunned to do anything, the sudden change from friend to something more taking her completely by surprise. It hadn't been until he pushed away, stuttering and apologizing, that she had come to her senses. She had tugged him back down whispering, "You are so stupid, Aiden Tracey Sketchit."
And despite Misty's quiet, "don't," their lips had crashed again.
The star haired man's voice was cold and empty when he spoke: "You can't change the past."
Argh, I'm so nervous about this chapter! It took a while, mostly because of my computer breaking down, but feel free to rip into it.
Oh, and here's plot twist number one, enjoy!
