Chapter 9
Remington came for Misty with a sandwich a blindfold and handcuffs. He came hours after Shard had left to sneak back into the brig. Remington ordered Misty to eat, and then warned her that she had 'better cooperate'. He informed that he was taking her 'somewhere important'. Misty translated his vague words to mean one thing: she was being escorted to her doom.
As Misty choked down her awful tunafish and pickle sandwich (Remington wasn't very good at preparing a 'last meal') she studied the Rocket. She debated whether or not to release Sam — catch him off guard and fight him? Whether it was worth it to kick and to scream? Remington was a good head taller than her and probably weighed twice as much. Even without the handcuffs, she would never be able to overpower him. Plus Misty had no idea what kind of Pokemon he carried. She did not want to put Sam into a dangerous situation unless her life truly depended upon it.
Therefore, Misty approached her captor. She held her hands out, offering herself to the cuffs. Sam's Pokeball was in the pocket of her hoodie, even cuffed she could reach him. Misty drew comfort from this and held her head high.
The metal cuffs clicked tight, binding her hands in front of her. The binds were heavy, but not as heavy as her heart.
Misty thought of Shard and of his departing words: he had told Misty that she could survive this nightmare, but only if she got selfish. Perhaps 'selfish' meant playing the proper hostage in order to endure? Swallowing pride and vomiting obedience, submissiveness? Misty was uncertain, but she knew that she had to keep faith that Shard would somehow rescue her. Ash had not conjured up a clever way to do so, and he obviously could not free the Pokemon. All of her hopes for survival rested upon the blue-haired Rocket, and he could not rescue her if she were dead.
As though sensing Misty's bright thoughts, Remington was quick to darken them with the blindfold. She was then led through a dizzying series of corridors before Remington finally stopped. She heard a clicking sound, much like the locking and loading of a riffle. Fortunately this sound belonged to a door being unlocked and Remington pushed her inside. Misty stumbled and the Rocket grunted with amusement at her misstep. She clenched her jaw, wishing she could transform into a Scyther and slice his tongue right out!
Remington removed the blindfold and handcuffs with as much unnecessary roughness as possible. The light struck Misty's eyes like a sudden starburst – flashing, white-hot and intense. Misty rubbed at them, attempting in vain to speed up the adjustment processes. After a moment her eyes were focused once again and Misty scanned her new environment. She was inside an office of sorts, which was very ornate and grand. This was certainly the largest office she had ever seen. Even Ash's Master's Quarters dwarfed in comparison.
In front of Misty was a table, it was made from solid Apricorn wood with a marble top. The table could easily sit a dozen people. Toward the rear of the room was a desk, and it also appeared to be carved from Apricorn wood. There was a leather chair behind the desk, but the front was spun away from Misty. Due to the high headrest, she was unsure if it was occupied.
Misty's sight was now drawn to the walls, all four were painted gold and decorated lavishly. Of particular interest were a set of paintings. Like the artworks in Shard's laboratory, these were exquisite renditions of Pokemon. Everything from a Persian to a Golem to . . . The Monster. The most grandiose painting was a shrine to chaos and ruin! A flawless reproduction of the terrible monster Pokemon! Misty visibly shuddered, turning to Remington. "Where am I?" she dared, not stifling the offense in her tone.
Remington's expression remained neutral. He pointed her toward the desk. "My Boss will speak with you, Miss Waterflower."
Dread swelled in her throat like infected tonsils. Misty could barely choke out her next words: "Your boss wants to speak with me? Why?"
Remington lanced her with annoyance. "Do not question his will. Go over to the desk."
What choice did she have? Misty obeyed. With a Slowpoke's pace she closed the distance between the desk and herself. Her feet felt burdened with a tremendous weight, as though an invisible Geodude clung to each shoe. As she neared the desk, Misty now perceived that someone WAS sitting in the chair. Misty first noticed a Persian's tail, then she saw a large man's hand stroking the Pokemon.
Misty stopped in her tracks, struggling to inhale. The dread swelling within her throat was spreading . . . numbing her finger tips, skyrocketing her heartbeat, causing her palms to go clammy. Mere 'dread' did not threaten her system, this sensation was 'panic'. But, why? After all the hell she had suffered, why now was she panicking? Why was her body instinctually reacting — alerting her to be on guard? Why did she feel like a Horsea swimming directly into the layer of Zapdos himself? Was Team Rocket's boss not just a man? Should she really fear him so deeply . . . or . . . should she instead loath him?
Instead of allowing panic to cripple her, should Misty not storm him with rage? Why should she feel like the Horsea? Maybe she was the Gyarados about to bite the head off a conniving, evil little Weedle! Did he deserve any less than a punch square to his face?
Misty's fear began a rapid evolution. A dangerous evolution into raw, seething fury. The kind of fury that forges strength in the moments preceding death. The kind of fury preceding a face-to-face encounter with the devil himself.
The most unlawfully 'wanted man' on the planet was but an arms-length from Misty. The most despised criminal mastermind in the world. Misty hurled Shard's 'selfish' warning from her mind, resolving that maybe she could attack this big bad boss? She would just have to do it faster than Remington could draw his gun.
"Remington, you may leave now." Ordered his boss and his voice . . . it was not how Misty imagined the devil's voice to sound. He did not boom or rasp with diabolical lust. Instead Team Rocket's leader spoke with calming command. His tone clear and captivating like an expert Hypno, and no louder than needed to reach Remington's ears.
Remington complied at once and exited the room. It was not necessary for the Boss to raise his voice to instill obedience in his Rockets.
"Miss Waterflower, how are you?" He addressed her directly now.
Misty shivered involuntarily, as though an invisible Ice Beam had encased her limbs. Despite the hot rage burning within her, Misty could not will herself to unthaw.
As though knowing frostbite had broken her voice, Team Rocket's Boss did not wait for her to answer. "Please have a seat and get comfortable. There is a chair to the right, Miss." He sounded like the winner of 'Gentleman of the year'.
Misty's rage boiled over, her brazen Waterflower bravado shattering the ice. "I prefer to stand."
"Very well then." Like an uncoiling Arbok did the chair twist slowly toward her . . .
Misty poised herself, head high, fingers curled . . . she was prepared to rip his head off with her bare hands.
But she was not prepared for. . .
"Giovanni!" Misty gasped, at once recognizing his face.
"Hello, Misty." Giovanni, the Viridian City gym leader, stood up from his chair, the huge Persian leaping from his lap. He smiled at her and gingerly took her hand across the table. "It's been a long time, since the gym leader conference last fall at the plateau, I believe? I trust, until lately, you've been well?"
Misty yanked her hand from Giovanni's as though he were engulfed in flame. "You?! YOU lead Team Rocket!? All this time? I don't understand!"
Misty had known Giovanni since she was a child. He was never a close confidant, but she had seen him at gym leader meetings regularly— trusted him— throughout her life. He was a well-respected man in the Pokemon world. A man she and Ash had looked-up to as children. A man they still looked-up to now. How could this have happened? Giovanni was supposed to be one of the 'good guys'! She had never suspected THIS! Betrayal and horror clashed across her face — inflaming in her mind like a concussion.
Giovanni continued to smile, satisfaction oozed from him like a pussing sore. "I understand that you are surprised, Misty. Let's just say I lead a double life. We'll leave it at that for now."
Misty pounded her fists against his desk! She was NOT going to 'leave it at that'! "But what about Ash? He thinks you are his friend! I thought you were one of us! By Moltres—" Misty's hands flew over her mouth as realization slammed her, "—the monster Pokemon! It killed all of those people and YOU are responsible, Giovanni! YOU!" Misty was shouting now, barely able to restrain from banging his head into the desk top! But, dammit, she wanted answers from him! And she needed his mouth intact in order to get them.
Giovanni simply nodded, not denying any of her words. "Misty, may I ask you a question?"
Misty stared at him: Giovanni stood before her with such control, with such dignity, so cordialdespite her deafening volume. Giovanni interpreted her silence as confirmation because he went ahead with his query: "It has come to my attention that you and Shard have become close. Would you agree?"
"What do you mean?" Misty was not following him.
"Have a seat, Misty, please." This was not a suggestion. Caught off guard, Misty sat down. Giovani joined her, reclaiming his chair and the Persian helped himself back upon his lap. The cat Pokemon eyed her dully, as though she were a mere peon and unworthy of his trainer's presence.
"Misty, dear," Giovanni began so simply, with her name. His tone soothed like an audible icepack upon her burning confusion. "I know that Shard left the brig last night to visit you. I also know he gave you his Vaporeon and you carry the beast in your pocket now. I supposed it gives you both some false sense of security. That Pokemon is hardly a threat or concern, so don't fret, I won't be confiscating him. Shard has been quite the self-appointed guardian to you. And that leads me to ask: how do you feel about him?"
Misty's hand protectively pressed against Sam's Pokeball inside her hoodie. She inhaled sharply, knowing that Giovanni would talk her into a corner if she wasn't careful. "Then you also must know that Glare and Remington have been trying to kill him. They sent an assassin after him last night."
"Of course, I do." Giovanni replied matter-of-factly, as though Misty just had told him that Pikachus were yellow. "And we will discuss that concern shortly. But you, my dear, are deviating from the current topic. I asked you a question, a reply is needed."
Her gaze flickered from his probing dark eyes. It was beyond uncomfortable to have Giovanni – the Team Rocket Boss– inquiring upon her feelings for one of his Rockets. What could her answer possibly matter anyway? Why did he care? Misty resolved to meet his sight with challenge, deciding that she would verbally springboard a while more.
"I also have a question for you, Giovanni, about Shard." Giovanni tilted his head to the side, encouraging her to go on. "Is Shard really Gary Oak?"
The smug grin now slid from Giovanni's lips and his fingers frisked tediously through his Persian's fur. "Misty, I find it interesting that you would ask me that question."
"I find it equally interesting that you would want to know how I feel about him."
Giovanni's intrigued stare fixed upon her and Misty met him head-on. Their visions merging like two raging Tauros about to lock horns. But Giovanni held her potent stare with ease. Misty could not disarm him verbally or intimidate him.
The smile reappeared upon Giovanni's lips, but it was not smug, it was amused. "My dear, your lack of an answer has actually given me one. I know the answer to my question."
"Funny, I could say the same to you." Misty's palms were slick with sweat, she was trying to match wits with a mastermind and it was exhausting. His ever-calm words struck her like a tidal wave. That confident smirk a whirlpool – tossing her best defenses about, pulling her down. She was trapped in Giovanni's ocean now, and nothing that surfaced here would help her to best him. She clung to what little knowledge she had, struggling to stay afloat, she did not want him to drown her. She had to seize ahold of her logic and swim! Giovanni did not deny her question as to Shard's identity. In fact, he did not even bat an eyelash. Her acquisition did not surprise him in the least. That meant. . .
Misty was thrown a small raft. "Shard really is . . . Gary Oak. I knew it. But how can that be? He died, fell off a cliff!"
"Jumped actually. He jumped off a cliff, not fell." Giovanni corrected. "Misty, I am going to tell you a story. And I would very much appreciate it if you would sit quietly, refraining from questions, until my story is complete. Can you do that?"
Misty hesitated, her lips trembling to hold back words, however . . . there was something in Giovanni's gaze that settled her. Something which urged her to comply. Misty had a feeling that Giovanni's 'story' WAS important— that it was somehow important for Shard.
Misty nodded agreeing to his terms.
"Good girl." Giovanni shut his eyes. It seemed to Misty a long time had passed before he opened them again. Then he exhaled in a manner that seemed final. A manner that relayed the importance of his words to follow.
"Many years ago, when I was a much younger man than I am today, I fell in love with a woman. Her name was Wendy. And like everything I covet, she was beautiful. Not a woman alive could rival Wendy. She had brown hair like Eevee fur and eyes bluer than that Vaporeon in your pocket. She was something, I tell you, and my heart did not stand a chance.'
"I met her first at a gala. Wendy was there with her family, a father, a husband and an infant daughter. Yes, Wendy was married. Married to a very important business man. I was convinced she was married to the wrong man. His name was Nicholas. Nicholas was wealthy and charismatic, but busy. He traveled the world overseeing his work. Wendy and her baby daughter were left alone nearly six months out of the year. She cared for her husband, but she was lonely. I could tell right away, eyes so lovely should never have been so sad. That night, at the gala, I felt as though I had succumbed to the love spell of a Jynx. It was an incredible feeling, though I admit unnerving. I had enjoyed the pleasures of many women in my time, but I was certainly not the love-struck type, hardly, in fact.'
"Nicholas left Wendy during that gala. He had to catch a flight overseas. It was for business. Wendy understood. After all, she enjoyed a lavish lifestyle off his mighty dollar. However his leaving that night left her feeling especially lost. I watched as she handed her daughter off to her father and went to the bar. Wendy needed to drink her sorrows away. I could not stand by and watch such a lovely woman suffer. So, I went to her, I bought her a drink and gave her my ear . . . as well as my heart. We became involved in a secret affair. I suppose I should have been use to living the double life, perhaps our sneaking around should have been natural for me . . . and at first it was. At first I vowed not to invest myself deeply in this woman. No matter how intense our affair, Wendy had no plans to ever leave her husband. This she was upfront about. She would not split up her family, for her daughter's sake. And she professed to still love her husband, despite his faults. But it was too late for me by then, I had accidentally fallen in love with her. Truly. Deeply in love. Wendy, the first and last woman who has ever gotten to me.'
"Our affair continued for nearly two years, wholly unbeknownst to her husband. She kept that secret from him and, in turn, I kept Team Rocket a secret from her. Wendy was from an upstanding family, very law-conscious, she would not have approved of my real profession. I suspected that she might even turn me in to the authorities if she knew. Therefore, I let her believe I was only a gym leader. It was a respectable job she could admire.'
"But then, it so happened, one day Wendy came to my gym in tears. Misty, they say that 'all good things must come to and end', and you know what? The ominous 'they' are correct. Wendy wept for she was pregnant. Three months along and her husband had only been back in town for two. She told me she was planning to stay with her husband. She would tell Nicholas that she was only two months along and that she was carrying his baby. She begged me to let her go, to let her live 'happily ever after' with her husband. To let Nicholas blindly raise my child with her. She was panicking, half of her words mere gibberish. I was about to make her sit down, to calm down, to talk this through with me, when suddenly two of my Rocket grunts entered my gym.'
"The grunts . . . they were absolute fools! Rushing to me in some frenzy, addressing ME as THEIR 'BOSS' and oblivious to the fact that Wendy was even in the room. The look on Wendy's face . . . it haunts me still. Horror. Realization. Betrayal. Wendy now knew who I truly was. She was familiar with my crimes as Team Rocket was infamous even back then. She cursed me, swearing that if I told her husband about the baby she would tell the police who I really was. Then she fled, pushing through my Rockets before I could stop her.'
"Our love had started out as a one lie and become a series of them. Wendy and I were blackmailing one another. And all along, I still loved her. All along I believed that she still loved me too. I was a fool, Misty. A fool for the first and last time.'
"Wendy came from a famous family and word of her new pregnancy spread across the media like a Flamethrower Attack on dry grass. I learned that she and Nicholas had decided to keep their family together. His business would no longer separate them now that they had two children. Wendy moved with Nicolas across the globe. I knew why she fled from me, she feared our child would become a criminal if raised by my hand. And in that respect, she was right to fear. I will not deny it. But, my darling Wendy, she was now the fool to think I would simply give up my only offspring, my only flesh and blood. She was terribly mistaken.'
"Four years after my son was born, I had her killed. Wendy and Nicholas both. They were in a terrible car accident. The police suspected Nicholas was drinking behind the wheel. And, as I had suspected, Wendy's children were sent to live with and be raised by her father. This was splendid to me for Wendy's father was an exceptional man: intelligent, wealthy and adored his grandchildren. Wendy had to go, she would have raised my son with malice toward the Rockets. She would have poisoned him against me. I knew that her father would raise my son best, even better than I could. I was a busy man and hardly interested in potty training. I did not have time to teach ABC's. I knew that I could trust the old man to do right by my son, at least until he was old enough for me to claim him. To take him. Misty—" Giovanni said her name very slowly, seizing every last ounce of her attention. "—Wendy's father was Professor Samuel Oak."
Giovanni just stared at her now, expressionless. He sealed his lips, bowed his head, and allowed her silence . . .
Silence to process his mammoth confession.
Misty's mouth dropped open, but no words would come. Her mind was spinning like an emotional tornado, whirling and tossing his words about in her head! She replayed Giovanni's final sentence in her mind until she finally comprehend it.
Wendy's father was Professor Samuel Oak.
Misty faced Team Rocket's Boss with one question: "Does Shard know?"
"No." Giovanni was quick to answer. "No one does. You are the ONLY living person to know this."
"But how did he get here? To you? To Team Rocket? Gary Oak, he . . . he killed himself."
"Of course, you are supposed to think that." Giovanni paused, he seemed to be mulling over his next words, as though unsure if he should admit something. But apparently he figured Pandora's Box was already open and went on: "I have faked the deaths of many people, but never so well as the death of my own son. Gary's 'death' was done without flaw."
"What do you mean? Gary Oak faked his own death? You helped him?"
"No. Gary Oak did intend to die. He was chronically depressed, I made certain of that. I saw to it that he became depressed. You see, Misty, Shard – Gary Oak- is my son, he is strong. He is no weakling, no frail character. He would never, under ordinary circumstances, quit on life. He would never give up when the going got tough. I do not reproduce weaklings. Therefore, I had to make him depressed. Gary was raised by Samuel Oak, a man of morals. Gary would never have considered joining Team Rocket on his own accord. He was following in the old man's footsteps, becoming a promising researcher. He had everything to live for and a golden, noble conscience. I had to make him think his life was worthless, that his existence was deplorable, make him desperate enough to take any new life offered to him. Desperate for escape."
"But how? Why? I don't understand. How could you do that to your own son?"
"Because he IS my son. MY SON. He belongs to me and with me. I had my scientists create a depressant drug. I won't dull you with the pharmaceutical details, but understand that it is very powerful. The drug hones in on one's weaknesses and insecurities and magnifies them, putting these weaknesses at the incessant forefront of the victim's thoughts. I tested the drug for months on some of my prisoners, and even on some Rocket grunts. Individuals who seemed, generally, very pleasant and strong-willed. In each test the individual attempted suicide within three months of exposure to the drug. I began having Gary Oak trailed and observed twenty-four hours a day. The drugs were given to him as he slept at night, dissolved completely in his mouth with zero aftertaste. Even at age fifteen Gary proved to be strong just like his father—" Giovanni paused to smirk with pride. "—it took five months for the drugs to wear Gary down. Finally he made his move and took a leap off the Pallet Cliffs. As we had been monitoring him constantly, we were able to act on time, though he did nearly drown before my diver got a hold of him—"
Misty cut him off: "So there are others in Team Rocket who know about Shard's identity then? This diver and the ones who stalked him and monitored him?"
"No. I had them all disposed of once my son was returned to me. I could not risk anyone knowing that Shard was my son. Telling anyone would have been like signing his death warrant. My enemies are numerous on the outside. And even within. Others, like Glare and Remington, would have killed him long ago. My son would have been an automatic heir, meaning, automatically killed. I made Gary Oak think that we found him washed up on a riverbed. And then I offered him a new life – free from his ghosts and shadows of the past. A new life where, if he worked hard, he could become very successful. At the time Gary was, of course, depressed beyond comprehension and desperate enough to accept my offer. He chose his new identity and opted to wear his mask at all times. He would risk no one recognizing Gary Oak. And so Gary became Shard the Rocket. I started him off at the bottom. He was a grunt with a new outlook on life. He was given the tasks all grunts are: trash removal, Pokemon care and occasional petty theft. Shard needed to be seen as 'one of them' to the other Rockets. An equal. Shard needed to gain their respect and climb the ranks on his own. If he failed, then he failed. But I did not believe that he would. And he has not. My son is utterly brilliant. He has made this company a lot of money and has earned the admiration of the board with no help from me. The Rockets here revere him, he will make a powerful successor for this company."
"But Glare and the others are trying to kill him! Your own son! Since you know that Shard broke free from the brig last night, you must also know that Glare tried to have him murdered by an assassin."
"Of course I know that."
"Shard could have been killed!"
"Bah!" Giovanni shook his head with irritation. "My son? Killed by a common assassin? Hardly, my dear. Had Shard actually fallen he would have proven himself entirely unworthy of the work I have put into him. Yes, Misty, I knew about the assassin. And, to make certain that my son would not fall, I saw to it that he was warned before even setting foot in that brig. I also left him unfrisked and armed with a weapon."
"But Glare is not going to stop until he's dead!"
"Don't you worry about Glare, or, should I ask you not to worry about Shard? Hm, I wonder if THAT might be too difficult for you?"
Misty narrowed her eyes into slits. "What are you getting at, Giovanni? Why are you telling me all of this?"
He stroked his Persian intensely, that confident grin spreading his lips. "I saw the video surveillance from yesterday. I know that you protected Shard from Remington by releasing his Blastoise. I saw how you removed his mask and tended his abrasions. Why would you do that for him? More so I saw the way you looked at him. I know that he covered for you and took his detainment in the brig to protect you. He put his entire career on the line, before my board, to shield you. He also dodged security cameras like minefields just to check on you. As I mentioned before, I know he gave you that Vaporeon. He did not want to leave you defenseless. Please tell me, why would he do that for you?" Giovanni took a steady breath and looked her straight in the eyes. "Misty, I am going to make you an extremely generous offer, are you ready?"
Misty nodded, unsure of what else to do. She was never speechless . . . until now.
"I am willing to fake your death. With the world believing you are gone, you may stay here, with Shard, and rule Team Rocket at his side. You will be wealthy beyond comprehension and more powerful than any other woman alive. But best, you will have my son. What do you say to that?"
Had a Raichu just Thunder Punched her, Misty could not have been more shocked! "I. . ." Misty slowly shook her head. "I. . . I could never do that to Ash."
"Ah, but you hesitated just now. Are you quite sure? It would be for best. Shard has obviously grown quite fond of you and you of him. I'm afraid his interest in you has caused him to grow a defiant streak. Defiance from my son is not acceptable, and I will not stand by and watch his heart be ransacked. That would destroy him, break his concentration . . . he would never be the same man again. Shard needs to be flawless —moving and thinking perfection at ALL times. If his concentration breaks again the board will not be supportive of him as my heir. I believe that having you promised, safe at his side, will be all the push Shard requires to fulfill his destiny and lead Team Rocket."
"No! I can't just let Ash think I'm DEAD!" Misty held up her left hand, blatantly showing Giovanni her engagement ring. "I made a promise to Ash. I promised to marry him, Giovanni. Please."
Giovanni frowned thoughtfully. "You made a promise to Ash. Yes, I understand your feeling of obligation, and I admire your steadfast resolve to honor that obligation. But at no point have you countered your unwillingness to consider my offer because you lack romantic feelings or attraction to my son."
"I love Ash, dammit. I'm going to marry him."
"Hm, that is a shame. Well, my dear, I tried. Your denial will be your demise. I will apologize now then. You understand that you will have to die. After all, I did just share confidential information with you. You also understand that Shard can never know that he is my son. That knowledge would be a death sentence for him. I am going to trust that your feelings for him will keep your lips sealed on the matter. If I find out you told him, or anyone, I'll be forced to kill him, too. It's better I put him down humanly than Glare, anyway. If you really are falling in love with him, you'll stay silent to save him. There are only two living beings that I truly love on this cold, hard planet, Misty. One is my Pokemon, the monster you truly fear. The other is my son, the young man that you are truly falling in love with." Giovanni stood and held her gaze a moment more.
"Love? I can't possibly be falling in love withShard! I just met him! Well, just reacquainted with him, anyway. That's absurd."
"Misty, another word of advice from the ominous they: they say it is when you are not looking for love that love finds you. Marrying one man when you are falling for another . . . trust me, my dear, it always ends badly, and for all three parties." Giovanni huffed. "A shame your other obligations will keep you from experiencing a happy life, or for that matter, any life at all." Giovanni turned his attention from Misty as though she were a leper. He pressed a small buzzer on his desk. "Remington, please enter. Take Miss Waterflower back to her room."
In a moment Remington entered and was at Misty's side. He again handcuffed and blindfolded her.
Giovanni did not need to remind Misty to be silent around Remington. Giovanni's threat against Shard had verbally strangled her. Misty would not dare breathe a word of her cursed knowledge. She would not risk any harm to Shard . . . her heart could not endure it.
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This was an all too familiar scene for Misty: she sat on the bed in Team Rocket's prison room with Sam cuddling upon her lap.
Remington had brought her back a short while ago. Misty was not sure when, perhaps a few hours? It hardly mattered anymore. Seconds thawed into minutes which dissolved within hours which melted her days into a scatter of strange memories. They all seemed to span the same endless moment, the same warped reality. The sun could neither rise or set in this world. Misty began to wonder if this entire experience was naught but an extraordinary nightmare? If she concentrated hard enough, could she will herself to awaken? Would she open her eyes to find Ash sleeping next to her? Were all of these strange characters figments of her imagination? Was Shard?
Misty's breath caught in her throat.
The idea that Shard could not be real, that he could vanish with her conciseness . . .
If this were a dream then Misty would find a way to cling to Shard and pull him out with her. She could NOT leave him here. Alone. She had to save him. Misty could no longer imagine her life without him in it . . . it did not matter who he really was. Gary Oak may have just been a childhood acquaintance, but Shard, he meant everything. Helping him meant everything. And if he was not real, then that meant this feeling within her heart was a lie, and, it was too wonderful and too frightening and too intense a feeling to be denied.
Shard could NOT be a dream.
Misty was actually relieved when her stomach began to grumble. She was certain one did not experience psychical hunger in a dream.
Misty thought about Remington, Shard's wanna-be killer. The Rocket had been silent the entire walk from Giovanni's office to Misty's room. But once inside the room he had spoken: 'Tonight is the night. The Pokemon Master just made contact. He's ready to make the swap. For real this time.' And that was it. He ripped off her blindfold, detached her cuffs and was gone.
Misty was struggling to sift through Remington's words. She heard them, but they failed to make her feel anything. Misty no longer knew how to feel, and the more she tried to analyze how she should or should not be feeling, the more she began to feel numb. Satisfyingly numb. Her brain was slowing . . . tingling . . . freezing, like fingers left ungloved in a blizzard. Misty did not even fear the inevitable anymore, in fact, she was anxious for it. For this all to END, one way or another. She could not stand to go on as a captive, a pawn in everyone's sick, twisted games.
Was she losing her mind? Had Giovanni found a way to crack her?
Misty knew that the Rockets were going to kill her. Giovanni himself told her so. She just prayed that Ash was not actually going to trade her for the Pokemon. But at this point, that hardly mattered either.
If Ash planned to meet with Team Rocket tonight, then that meant Misty was going to die tonight. A short burst of heat returned to her senses . . . Ash . . . Misty hoped that she would get to see him one last time. If even at a distance, she needed to see him. Misty loved Ash. She had always loved Ash and she was ready to die for his greater good. She only hoped that he would understand that. And, Misty also hoped that Team Rocket was not planning to kill her in front of him. Ash could not endure that. It would destroy him on the spot. He was sweet and sensitive and the thought of this terrified her more than any bullet. If she had to, she would choke on her pride and beg Team Rocket. She would get down on her hands and knees and beg them. Please don't kill me in front of him. PLEASE.
The devil had offered to buy her soul and Misty had refused. But, she wondered now if she had made the right choice? Had she accepted Giovanni's offer – to fake her death—she would have been very selfish. Living here and all the while Ash believing her dead. No, that was an unbearable thought! She could not –WOULD NOT—be able to live a lie like that. She could NEVER hurt Ash like that. But being unable to live a lie meant not living at all.
Giovanni might as well have asked her: would you rather burn in flames or be stabbed a dozen times? There was no possible good choice, no pleasant outcome.
Giovanni . . . his story stuck like a barbed thorn, Misty could not get it out of her head. His words haunted her, his tale of loving Shard's mother. Killing her!Causing his own son catastrophic depression to the point of suicide. Gary Oak was Shard. Shard was Gary Oak. It seemed impossible and yet unbearably obvious at the same time. He had been before her eyes all along, helping her to the best of his ability. He must have remembered Misty from their childhood. He had tormented Ash something awful once, but the two boys later became friendly. The part of him that was still Gary Oak could not hurt her — Ash's loyal juvenile sidekick and now fiancee. The initial reasons that motivated Shard to protect her no longer mattered, nor did Gary Oak himself. Shard was the one who helped her. Shard was the one who . . .
Shard. If that word implied a broken fragment then why did it make her feel whole?
Shard was incredibly distraught when Misty had last seen him. He was battling with his conscience. Unable to balance the good human and the bad killer. Now Misty understood why. Shard never chose this life, it had been chosen for him by his father, the criminal architect. A man who would twist anything – even his own son—to see his will served.
Giovanni made her sick. When Shard had left Misty his psyche was berating him, his morals striking him down. He did not at all sound the confident Shard that she had come to know. Misty thought about Shard's final instructions again, urging her to become 'selfish'. Why had he had told her to let him be the selfless one? This word puzzle had been on her mind since. Misty wanted to follow his words exactly, but she did not know how. Misty did not know what Shard had meant, but he seemed to imply that she may have a chance of survival – but only if she became selfish. But the only way she would be able to try and help him – to convince him to LEAVE this place – was if she could stay alive!
Misty cussed loudly, accidentally making Sam jump. Not knowing what else to do, Misty stood up. She tossed Sam a handful of snack crackers (that Shard had placed in the tote bag with the Sweel magazine), and then left him to munch in peace while she headed into the bathroom. Misty wanted a shower. She could not stand to sit idly on that bed another moment.
If these were to be her final hours, then Misty wanted to feel water around her one more time. She shed her clothing and selected a bathrobe from the pile of attire Shard had provided for her. She would slip into that robe after her shower, it looked quite comfortable and Misty was determined to spend her final hours in as much comfort as possible.
Stepping within that shower was like stepping within a waterfall of solace. Misty brushed her teeth and then lathered up her face, her body, and her hair with rose-scented soap and shampoo. The warm vapors embraced every centimeter of skin. Misty cranked up the heat, hoping that she could drain Giovanni's hot water bill. She released a weary sigh and closed her eyes. The droplets pulsated against her face like tiny liquid fingers, massaging every pore. The water felt incredible, she loved how it cascaded down her bare back. . .
Her mind also began to cascade . . . Misty recalled a morning, not long ago, when Ash had joined her for her morning shower. Misty smiled at the memory. Neither one of them did much scrubbing . . . she doubted she'd even had the chance to pick up her shampoo. Ash had given her a slow back massage, his lips nibbled her ears, he whispered her name. He told Misty how much he had been yearning for her. Misty could almost feel Ash's hot lips against her throat, she could almost feel his hands as they strayed down, beyond her shoulders . . . Misty turned around to face Ash, to kiss him. . .
But Ash was not staring back at her. It was Shard. The Rocket's handsome face was before her. It was Shard, not Ash, who held her naked body. It was Shard, not Ash, who breathed hotly in her ear . . .
Misty gasped, forcing her eyes open and her imagination shut. She blushed furiously! Half of her face glowing red-hot from shame while the other half burned with another emotion. An emotion that Misty dared not name.
Misty swore inwardly. This is Giovanni's fault. I just know it is. He put these ideas in my head! She felt somewhat better blaming her almost-erotic fantasy on him. Though, a part of her wondered if it had anything to do with Giovanni at all.
Damn me! Misty berated herself, scratching her knuckles against the shower wall. I suppose there's no use in guilting myself, I may be dead before tomorrow. If my imagination wants to stray, why should I deny myself? This time tomorrow I may not have an imagination anymore. I won't even be here . . . unless Shard can find a way to —
In the main room, Misty heard the electronic door beeping open. It was an unmistakable sound. She choked back a cry of alarm! What if it were Remington or Glare? What if it was time to go?
Misty jumped from the shower and struggled into her robe. Her hair was sopping wet and water drizzled down her face, her body, puddling beneath her on on the floor. Whoever the culprit was, he or she had not knocked on the bathroom door or –thankfully — barged in. But that meant that one of those horrid Rockets was waiting for her on the other side of the door.
But Sam was not barking. Was he okay?
Misty braced herself, her fingers gripping the door handle. She held her breath and exited the bathroom. Sitting on the bed, snuggling with Sam was . . .
"Shard!" Misty's wet bare feet nearly slipped as she rushed toward him.
Shard looked up at her, his masked face dejected. He did not stand when she approached him. "What's going on, Shard?"
He seemed to peer right through her. "My brig sentence is over. The Boss advised me to keep my distance from you, but it wasn't an order."
"But you came anyway?"
Shard flinched as though her question physically pained him. "Of course I did."
"You won't get in trouble for visiting me?"
Shard stood now and Misty looked up. In her bare feet and he in his tactical boots, Misty's head barely reached his shoulders. Shard reached forward and took her hand in his, a tentative smile tugging on his lips. "No, I won't get in trouble. But even if I did, you're worth it." He squeezed her hand.
Misty stared at her bare hand resting in his gloved one. Her hand looked so tiny, almost like a child's within is large strong one.
Misty's pulse quickened as a blush stained her checks, her neckline, her chest and —Moltres-knows- where else. Maybe the legendary fire bird was somehow puffing steam upon her skin? How else could Misty account for her sudden rise in body temperature? Squelching her nonsensical inner 'blush-shaming', Misty simply allowed the searing heat to overwhelm her bloodstream. She was soaking wet, clothed only in a robe within a cold room, and yet no part of her felt cool. Misty did not pull away from Shard's hand. Instead she moved closer to him. She allowed her sight to thoroughly search his masked face. Misty wanted to remember every detail of him . . . by the legendaries, he was striking. Misty would carry Shard's image to her grave.
"Shard, the trade is happening tonight." Misty barely recognized her voice as her own, she was unexplainably breathless.
"I know." In contrast, Shard's voice was firm, calm and unsurprised by her grave words. With his other hand, Shard brushed a damp tendril of hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. Misty failed to suppress a shiver as his glove grazed her temple. His mere presence seemed able to sway her internal temperature controls. "Don't worry, Misty. Everything is going to be okay."
"How can you say that? How can you be so sure?"
"I'll be there with you. I'm not going to let anyone else harm you."
"But your boss . . . he brought me into his office earlier . . . he. . ." she hesitated, knowing Giovanni had surveillance on this room. The knowledge that the vile man had poured into her mind was too dangerous to utter out loud. If Giovanni had the woman he 'loved' murdered, then she had no doubt he would kill his own son, too. And even if there were a way to secretly confess the awful truth to Shard, this was not the time to tell him. What if this new knowledge – that Giovanni was his father — sent Shard over the edge? Misty winced, selfishly she needed his brilliant mind operating at top condition in order to save her. And if his mind crumpled, then Misty would not be able to save Shard either.
Shard had told Misty that she needed to be selfish to get out of here. Misty inwardly vowed that she would tell him later, assuming they both survived the night.
But . . . there was one secret that Misty had discovered without Giovanni's help. One secret she was not forced into swallowing. Misty fixed her sight upon Shard, gathered her courage and asked him: "Shard, please take your mask off."
He tilted his head, just like Sam did when trying to figure out her words. "Why?"
"Please, just do it." Misty needed to see Gary Oak for herself. It was suddenly critical for Misty. She needed to be certain — beyond Giovanni's story, beyond her own speculations -– she needed to know.
Shard shrugged and nodded. Without further question he peeled the adhesive mask from his face. The fabric fell from Shard's eyes and his face was revealed, naked and beautiful before her.
It was unmistakable now.
His eyes . . . they were stunning, like twin pools reflecting trust and affection upon her. Misty longed to loose herself in his sight and to submerge within their depths. If she had to go down, then drowning in Shard's eyes would be her chosen execution. She did know this face. He was so handsome, as he always had been. The past ten years only matured his boyish good-looks into an incredibly gorgeous man.
Regret stung Misty now. Why had she never gotten to know Gary Oak back then? He was obviously in great need of a friend. But in those days she, quite frankly, could not stand egotistical Gary Oak. And now she could not stand to be away from the man he had evolved into.
"Gary Oak." The name burst from her mouth, striking Shard like an invisible sucker punch. Shard flinched, mouth agape, eyes wide! He dropped her hand like a scalding Charizard Egg.
"Why did you call me that?" His voice was hushed, laced in angst, as though that sucker punch had struck his heart. Shard's eyes darted toward the door . . . was he going to run from the truth?!
Misty reached upward and seized his shoulders. She used all of her strength to hold him in place. She would not allow Shard to flee. "I figured it out for myself and then your boss confirmed it."
Shard's completion went pale, the color drained from his face as though he were bleeding internally from that punch. He took a step away from her, but Misty held on with startling strength! Shard must have realized that she would be a trial to shake free and he stilled, remaining in place. Sam was now pacing around them in circles, whining nervously.
"I don't understand why my Boss would share that information with you."
Misty had to strain to hear him. Was he whispering due to the fear of surveillance or because he could not muster any more volume? Regardless, Misty could not stand to see him suffer.
Shard shook his head, continuing quietly: "This is Code One classified. My Boss and I are they only ones who – who—" Shard closed his eyes, his face wrought with confusion. "No matter, it doesn't even matter. I trust you'll not repeat that information?"
"Of course not. But, Shard, it DOES matter. We all thought you were dead!"
"Gary Oak is dead!" He snapped. "He died more than ten years ago, okay? Do not use that name again. It is as forbidden to speak as our Boss's name."
Misty's brow furrowed and she gripped Shard's shoulders tighter! Channeling her inner Machamp, she shook him! "Giovanni? Don't tell me I can't say his name! That bastard! Giovanni, Giovanni, GIOVANNI!"
Shard peeled her hands from his shoulders now, wincing. Next he pressed a firm finger to her lips. "That is a dangerous name. I understand that you hate him, but he did help me once, saved my life and gave me purpose . . ." Shard hesitated, his sight fluttering downward.
"Go on." Misty wanted to hear what he was thinking. She NEEDED him to finish his sentence. "Shard, please."
He met her eyes, and it was Misty's turn to wince. Despair assaulted her morale more harshly than any physical blow could. "If you thought I was dead then you also know how I died. I killed myself. I was fifteen years old and I was weak, Misty." Shard's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes blinking back a surge of emotion. Misty's hands reclaimed his shoulders and she rubbed them, supporting him to go on. "I wanted to die. I wanted it all to just end . . ." his voice now expired upon his lips. Elite Rocket Shard was shattering before Misty. His icy façade was melting again, and this time, Misty WOULD catch every drop as it slipped away. Her hands slid from his shoulders and down his arms until she found his fingers, and she intertwined them with her own. Shard seemed to gain strength from her touch and his expression steadied along with his voice.
Once an iceberg melts it can never be an iceberg again. Parts may freeze, but it will never take the same form, it will never be as whole as it once was.
"Misty, when I jumped off that cliff-side, I had every intention of dying. I hope you never know what it feels like to want to die, to yearn for it. To yearn for an end so deeply that you would do something like I did. I remember it perfectly, I just kissed my Pokeballs goodbye and I jumped. No second thoughts. I remember falling, feeling no fear, just falling. And then the cold. I hit the water, it was freezing, but I didn't fight it. I just let it take me. The current pulled me under. I breathed it in. I could feel water inside my lungs, suffocating me and then my world went black. When I woke up I knew that something had gone wrong, I wasn't dead. Much to my extreme disappointment. I was in a room with one other person. It was the Boss. He offered me freedom from my old life. The life where I was nothing but a failure. The life where I would never be the man my parents had hoped I would be, never be the scientist my grandfather wanted me to be. The life where I could not achieve my dreams, where I was a burden. Team Rocket sounded like something I could disappear inside. Be reborn. A second chance. I could dump out all of my anger, my pain, and no one would judge me for it. The Boss presented my options: either join the company or he would kill me then and there, he held a gun to prove it. I don't know what changed in me at that moment, why a boy so anxious for death was now turning it away? But I did turn it away. I was intrigued for the first time in so long. I accepted the Boss's offer. I didn't know then that I was selling my soul."
When had Misty started crying? She did not know. But as Shard finished his story her face was wet from tears. She felt the tears, rolling sorrowfully down her face like liquid embers. Her breathing had become a series of choked sobs. Her chest aching for this man.
Shard breathed quietly in contrast. He seemed relieved to have finally unloaded this burdensome secret. In this fleeting instant he could be himself again. Be the innocent boy he once was so long ago.
Misty could not share in his relief. The tears would not release her, no matter how hard she fought them back. Shard gently took her face in his hands. "Misty, don't cry." His voice was as tender as his touch. And this tenderness caused her to weep with more fervor. Misty could not stop, she felt possessed by raw grief. Misty cried because she knew the truth – the real truth — about Shard, but could not tell him. She cried because her heart ached for him — because a part of her ached to be with him — but Misty knew that could never be. She cried because she loved Ash. She cried because she should love Ash so much that feelings like this — for another man — should never have even surfaced. She cried because she knew – one way or another – she would soon never see Shard again. Misty cried because she had wanted to help Shard and now — by keeping the truth from him —- she was no better than Giovanni himself. And then she cried harder.
"Misty . . ." Shard held her gaze with his eyes, his hands unwavering from her face. ". . .I need you."
Misty shivered at Shard's sudden words, unsure of their meaning . . . unsure whether or not she had even heard him correctly, but desperately hoping she had.
"What I mean is, Misty, I need you to show me how to be good again. To be myself again. A good man. I'm a better person than this, I know I am. You make wanna fight like hell to be better." Shard's fingers grazed her lips, even through the gloves his body heat permeated her skin. "I don't want to steal, I don't want to kill. Before this life, I never wanted to hurt anyone. I wasn't capable of it. You were right, I'm trapped in here. I want to leave this place, this life, behind me. And I want you to come with me. I'll leave Team Rocket for you, with you. I'm falling for you, Misty. I tried not to — I swear to Zapdos! — I tried to fight this attraction to you, these feelings for you, with everything I have. But we've already established that I'm weak. Far weaker than you are. You make me feel alive again for the first time since I was a kid. If we leave, we'll have to become dead to the world. Team Rocket will never stop searching for me. And I won't go to the police, they'll put me on death row. But I'm on death row if I stay here anyway. Ironically, I have zero interest in dying. Please say you'll run away with me and I'll promise to keep us safe." Shard's eyes were hopeful, they shone with innocent dreams. It was a pure sort of hope, the sort born from a soul who had not dared to hope in a long, long time.
Misty could hardly believe what Shard had just said to her, offered her! He wanted to run away with her? He wanted her to leave with him? He had developed feelings for her? Misty's chest clenched, it heaved! Misty's very heart was screaming, but she deafened herself to its call. Misty had to because a part of her –- a very sincere part of her — wanted to say yes.
But Misty did not say yes. She could not.
There was no way that she could up and leave Ash for Shard— the newly-not-dead Gary Oak! She barely knew Shard . . . yet, she wondered if she now knew more about him than he did about himself?
Shard was correct, Misty was strong. And she prayed that she was strong enough to say what she had to say. Misty met Shard's radiant eyes and— though it damm-well butchered her heart— she knew that she would have to extinguish that beautiful hope.
"Shard. . . I can't do that . . . to . . . Ash."
Shard's eyes went immediately dim— a solar eclipse consumed his vision. He nodded, looking momentarily embarrassed, but not at all surprised by her answer. "Of course." He smiled timidly at Misty and a blush tinted his cheeks. "I don't know what came over me, Misty, I'm sorry. I have a permanent target on my back, it wouldn't be safe for you anyway. It was selfish and stupid of me to ask. You're engaged to the Pokemon Master, you have everything to live for." Shard exhaled thoughtfully, his brow creasing as his calculating mind worked at Rapidash-speeds. "I will help you escape so you can live your life with Ketchum. You don't deserve any of the hell we've put you through here. I've made my own shitty bed and I'll lay in it. It was wrong of me to ask you to lay beside me, or to even think that you would want to. I apologize for misinterpreting your feelings for me as something romantic. I hope you can forgive me."
Misty felt tears in her eyes again. Shard was misunderstanding! No, she would not leave Ash. And, no, she would not run away with him. But 'no', did not mean that. . .
"Shard, I wish that I could disappear with you. A part of me is so very tempted . . .so much so that it's breaking my heart. I wish I could make you understand how conflicted I feel."
Shard did not ask her to elaborate, he simply spoke her name: "Misty." And then he smiled the sweetest, saddest little smile. It was as though he cherished the way her name felt and sounded upon his lips. . . even as it faded away.
"Yes, Shard?"
"I have to go now."
Misty had been hoping he would say something else, ask her again to flee with him. She was not sure she had the strength to say 'no' to him twice. But Shard did not ask her again, he would not do that to her or to himself.
"Remington will be coming for you in a few hours. But I'll be with him when he does, don't worry, Misty."
"How can I not worry?" The reality of this moment bombard Misty like a Blizzard attack. Her time alone with this man — one way or another — was now ending.
"Leave everything up to me. I WILL be there with you. I'll make certain you get out alive."
"Thank you, Shard." Misty did not know how he could possibly make that promise, but she believed him. She had to.
"Misty?"
"Yes, Shard?"
"I don't think that I will see you again after tonight."
". . . I know," her voice broke, and a new rush of tears devastated her face.
"Dry your tears, Misty."
"I can't."
"No?" His voice was light and endearing, causing her heart to beat faster. "Well, fortunately, I'm here to dry them for you." Shard cupped her face in his hands again, his thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks, smoothing away her sorrow.
"But what happens when you're not here?"
Shard's hands slid from Misty's face to her shoulders, and his fingers gripped her as though she were the most precious being in the entire world. Shard had the hands of a thief, but when he held her, Misty felt more sacred than any rare gem. He clutched her body and Misty trembled. She could feel his devotion, his passion, his tender longing for her through his touch alone. Shard adored her and feared her . . . she was his forbidden treasure. And in this moment Misty realized that Shard would protect her. Fight for her . . . even . . . truly die for her.
Misty looked at Shard now . . . and she realized something else . . .
He was her forbidden treasure as well.
A treasure she could desire but never possess. A treasure she could admire . . . but never be allowed to love.
Misty wove her hands around his neck, relishing the goosebumps her touch elicited upon his skin. Shard's fingers were unwavering upon her shoulders, just like his determination to save her. The solar eclipse in his vision became a brilliant sun rise. And Misty remained poised, unblinking and unafraid of what she might see radiating within the light. Misty freely allowed Shard access to her own eyes, to stare into the depths of her unspoken emotions. In this moment their gazes wholly fused. Sapphires and emeralds were set ablaze, melting into one perfect precious instant . . .
Nothing else in the world existed . . .
Except. . .
Shard and Misty.
And now something happened, something that neither one of them had expected.
Shard found Misty's lips. Or perhaps she found his? Shard and Misty had been drawn together – pushed, as though with a divine magnetic thrust. And what they found was pure and blissful. The experience of being willingly swept away in a heavenly tide. Two hearts thundering and yet content. Second thoughts did not exist in this moment and Misty let go . . . throwing herself into this moment, into Shard. Misty pressed her body against Shard, sinking into his strong arms and simply savored every sensation. She savored being alive. She savored what it felt like to need. To be needed.
Misty and Shard needed each other.
Their lips seemed to melt together, moving and caressing in perfect sync. Shard tilted her head back, his mouth exploring hers more deeply. Misty relaxed, shivering, fully surrendering to his search. His lips stroked hers with such hunger, such passion . . . passion she'd not known even existed in this mortal world. How? Misty wondered, how had she gone her entire life without him?
Her fingers frisked through Shard's spikes of hair, gripping handfuls, desperate to touch every centimeter of him. To feel alive with him. Shard's kissing pace slowed but the passion did not . . . his lips moved with more measure, more intimacy . . .
Shard was kissing her sorrows away. Shard was kissing her tears into the past. Their lips silently confessed the unspoken words buried in their hearts. Words were not necessary for words could never translate the feelings inside them. This moment belonged to lips upon lips, breath dissolving into breath, body against body.
It was a final kiss.
A first and a last kiss in one moment.
Shard and Misty clung to one another like lifelines, neither daring to stop for breath. Lifelines . . . to each other that is what they had become. Misty trying to save Shard just as he was trying to save her.
Misty felt his fingers upon her back. Her robe was soaked from her wet hair and must have been seeping through his gloves, but Shard caressed her still. Misty believed he would have held her had she been covered in mud, in blood, in anything.
Shard's breath in her mouth sent tremors down her spine. He tasted of sinful euphoria, and she indulged in his masculine pheromones. Shard grazed her waist then gripped her robe in a trembling fist. Misty's hands had found his chest, she felt his hard muscles through his shirt. She felt his heart hammering against her palm. She clutched his shirt with her nails, wishing she could somehow dig inside him and claim his heart forever.
Forever. . .
She was wearing Ash's ring. A ring that promised Ash forever.
"No, stop!" Misty gasped. She shoved Shard backward, peeling his hands from her waist. "Ash." Was the only word she could muster, her only explanation.
Shard was practically panting. He pressed a hand to his mouth and sighed into it. He just stared at her as the eclipse darkened his eyes once more, all passion instantly vaporized.
"You have to be selfish to be happy, Misty." There was no bite in his tone. Shard spoke calmly and without regret.
Then, he turned and left.
Sam paced back and forth at the door, barking mournfully.
Misty just stood and watched Shard's faithful Vaporeon. Sam already missed Shard. A cold puddle was forming below her feet from her wet hair. Misty knew how Sam felt. Each beat of her heart brought agony.
Misty shut her eyes. She could still feel the heat of Shard's lips upon her mouth.