Trust Me
"You got out?" Misty asked intently. "How?"
His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and when he spoke, it came out awkwardly and distant, as if it wasn't really him saying, "I don't know. I got really mad." The room was giving him vertigo now, and he fell back, trying to remind his body what it was like to be in this world. It didn't do much, and a few minutes later he was dry heaving into a bucket while Brock supported him and Misty gathered blankets to stop the shivering. The blankets did nothing to help, and his dry heaving continued.
"Calm down, Ash," Brock soothed. "You're in shock."
"No," he said, half giggling. "I'm in hell." Then promptly leaned over the bucket with dry, choking sounds.
"How'd you know you were out? I mean, did you see anyone?" Misty asked softly, squeezing his shoulder.
The boy hugged his bucket, leaning his head against the rim as he breathed. "I don't know where I am."
"You're in Hoenn, in a hotel," Brock said, lifting his head to check the boy's dilated eyes. He pushed him back softly, forcing him to lay down. "You're right here with us. I'm here, Misty's here, and so is Pikachu, and we're all worried about you."
"But I was in the lab," Ash moaned.
"What lab?"
"And before that I was in hell!" he cried, tears springing to his eyes. "It was hot and it smelled bad and all my friends were hurt and I hurt. I hurt right here!" He grabbed his leg, which twitched under his touch as if he hadn't been expecting it. "And now it doesn't hurt at all! Where am I?"
"Brock, what do we do?" she pleaded.
"Don't panic," he said softly, then turned back to Ash. "You're in shock, alright? You're a little confused. Just take a breather for a few minutes. Lay down and breathe, okay? Count backwards from one hundred for me."
"I was in Oak's lab!" he shouted, clutching his bucket tighter.
"Misty, get pillows," Brock said quickly. "We need to get his feet up."
"What's wrong?"
"It's shock, Misty. Move!"
She moved, darting quickly away and busying herself with snatching pillows off the other beds to support Ash's legs, lifting them up so they were far above his chest. Somewhere during that span, Ash had fainted. Brock was sitting there, his fingers pressed into his wrist as he monitored Ash's pulse. He motioned with his other hand that Misty could come and sit with them, and she nervously sat on the very edge of the bed, staring on.
"Is he…?" She swallowed. "He's dying, isn't he? He got out of it and now the stair-haired man is killing him."
"It's shock. Potentially fatal, but I think Ash can get through it. He's going back to normal. His blood flow is getting back to where it should be. If it hadn't, yes, we would have needed some kind of blood transfusion or…I don't know. It doesn't matter."
"How'd he do it?" she whispered. "Wake up, I mean?"
"Wake up?" Brock asked, eyes snapping over to her.
She flinched back. "It's not a dream, it's not. I can't explain it, Brock. You won't make it back if I explain it. Just know that…that this is real." She gulped. "If we die here, we die for real."
"But it's a dream?" he pressed suspiciously.
"No!" she cried helplessly. "It's not!"
"You know what it is?"
"I think I do. Brock, I'm not one hundred percent sure." She shook her head, then focused her eyes back on Ash. No matter how they darted to Brock, or to the ceiling, or to her hands knotting in her lap, they always came right back to Ash. "I still need to read up on some things. I have to keep reading that book to make sure that I'm right, because I'm probably not. There's no way he's who I'm thinking of. I mean, it couldn't happen. Because the guy…the guy who I'm thinking of died a really, really long time ago, and it's not like he was some huge guy either. He didn't even get his own chapter in the book, Brock! It couldn't be him!"
"Who?"
"I can't tell."
"Misty," he said firmly, in that low, authoritative voice that made her feel like she was ten all over again, "who is it?"
"I can't tell you, Brock! Because if I'm right he'll get mad and he'll kill you. The only reason he hasn't killed me is because…" She lowered her head. "It's for the same reason he let me save Max, I'll tell you that. And me bringing Max down, that worked out, didn't it? So, trust me, and I swear it'll work out."
"You're not giving me a lot of reason to, Misty," Brock accused.
"Trust me for old time's sake," she begged, touching his hand softly. "For every time I was scared to go, and you guys goaded me into going anyway. For every single time I told Ash not to do something stupid and he did. For me being right about getting Max and solving the riddles and knowing Ash was going to get hurt. I'm not going to ask you to trust me on anything else. If you want to think I'm crazy enough to stab you in your sleep, tie me up every night. I just really, really need to have your trust on this one last bit. We're almost out."
"And when are you coming clean?" he asked.
She promised, gushing, "The second we get out. We rescue Dawn, we're out, and I'll explain everything to everyone."
"Can't you give me anything?"
She looked away from Ash, just for a moment, before shifting a little closer to the unconscious boy and resuming her vigil. "If I tell you a secret, will we be even?"
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"The reason Tracey wasn't in love with me is because he was in love with Daisy," Misty whispered. The words suddenly came out in a rush, unstoppable as she pulled the scene back up in her mind, feeling the churning in her stomach making her confused as to what she was feeling. "I walked in on them kissing. They didn't see me, and they broke apart really fast. They felt guilty, and neither of them wanted to hurt me. So they swore each other off and Tracey said he would break up when the time was right. He never got the chance. I killed him one week later. It was entirely on accident, it had nothing to do with him loving my sister."
Brock shook his head. "That's not your secret."
She shook hers as well. "The reason it was on accident was because by the time this had happened I didn't love him either. I didn't know how to break up with him, how to tell him that I didn't care if he went off with Daisy." Her eyes narrowed. "And that's because the only reason I could say I didn't care was because I saw an interview with Ash with three months prior to the whole damn thing. That's the only reason I didn't care."
He rocked back slightly, looking between the other boy and Misty. "You're kidding me?"
"I watched it twenty eight times." She looked up guiltily. "In a week, Brock. I hadn't seen him for over a year. I haven't really hung out with him for four."
"And you-"
"I wasn't in love with him. I was infatuated," she said quickly, then sighed shakily. "You can't tell him. I mean, you can't tell him that I have this stupid…this crush thing. That's all it is, but it's too much pressure on him. He'll get distracted or hurt or…or it'll make things awkward between us."
"Eight years and you've finally confessed," Brock said, smiling slightly.
"You can't tell," she said firmly.
"Why not?" He smirked. "Still afraid of rejection?"
"Why not? Oh, gee, I don't know. Maybe the fact that I'm eighteen and I've got this same love struck infatuation with him that I had when I was ten. And, on top of it, I fully intend to get rid of it. It's probably just another ploy from that…that good for nothing bastard who started all this!"
"How's that working out for you?"
She smiled a bit, rolling her eyes with a blush. "Screw you, Brock."
He laughed. "So your quest to be free of the love that is Ash Ketchum is going that well?"
Her blush went darker, and she managed to look away and focus on the starlight pouring through the window. "So, is that enough to trust me?"
"I didn't need a secret to trust you, Misty."
"I know." She put her chin on her knees. She really had known, and was more than a little disappointed in herself for blurting out her little love confession when there were things far worse that she should be focusing on, like the object of her affections crippled by shock after his near death. But her chest ached so sharply it pushed the air out of her lungs, it push out the hurried, frantic, frightened words with it. "So what do I do?"
"I'd recommend something involving a bikini."
She threw her arms around his neck, fighting off the tears as she suddenly felt like she was home. It was all the same, with Brock holding all her secrets and her biggest problem suddenly feeling like a bit of unrequited love. "Oh, Mew, Brock! I missed you both so much!"
He hugged her back, squeezing tight and murmured, "You've grown so much."
She pulled away, giggling. "Oh, gees, so have you. You're a hulking, handsome piece of ass, you know that?"
"You're almost as hot as your sisters."
She laughed now, and hugged him again, squeezing the air right out of him. "You're the absolute best, Brock."
"I know." He said, rubbing her back softly. "I missed this."
"What's this?"
"You, me, Ash." He smiled. "We worked."
"We still work," Ash muttered, his eyes fluttering. "Why the hell are you two cuddling?"
"It's called a hug Ash."
"I win, Brock-o." He grinned stupidly. "She kissed me."
"I kissed your forehead, you dolt."
"See, she admitted it. She kissed me. Beats out your hug, Brock."
The older boy grinned at Misty's warning glance. "Oh, Ash, you have no idea."
Once Ash was back to his healthy self, they decided to make their way to Sinnoh.
Problem was, when they stepped outside, they weren't in Hoenn anymore. It was Canalave, Canalave was a dock city, the kind with rivers out to the ocean and a large, pretty bridge that came from people who thrives on tourism and a library so big and gorgeous it would be an abomination to ignore it. Mist gulped nervously, her body pounding with the thought that she had been very, very wrong. After all, Misty had never been to that city, had never seen it in a magazine or in a travel brochure, because if she wanted to go somewhere, she simply went. She wrote a letter to the League and came back with a new pokémon and all was paid for. She hasn't gone to Sinnoh because Ash was in Sinnoh, and she had already left him.
"Where are we?"
"Canalave," Ash said, spinning slowly. "A tourist free Canalave, weird."
"It's really weird?"
"Downright freakish," Brock explained. "It's packed, usually. Especially since we can see the bridge from here. Areas like these usually have people swarming all over with cameras."
"Well, we're tourists."
Ash shook his head no. "We're heroes. And we're here to save Dawn."
"You're a hero," Misty said sharply. "And I'm a tourist, and how the hell did we get to Sinnoh when we were in Hoenn a minute ago?"
Ash snorted. "The star haired man is magic."
She glared, livid at his too true statement. "I know that, but why would he have just sent us here? He made us take the whole time, by boat, to get from Kanto to Hoenn. We still had the boat, we could have gotten more gas, so why would he just skip right past it?"
"Maybe he was bored," Ash shrugged. "I'd get bored, watching people do nothing for weeks. Maybe he wanted to skip to the cool part, you know, the part where I get all beat up and make my heroic life-saving stunts that awe the crowd."
She glared. "That isn't the cool part."
"I always ignore the travel scenes in action movies. I came for the explosions, not some stupid story." He shrugged. "He wants to see everyone get hurt and break down, and few weeks on a ship didn't do it last time, he's not gonna do it again. Let's just be happy he has a short attention span."
"This isn't something to be happy about."
"Don't moan, Misty. Find a silver lining."
"Silver lining? You want me to find a silver lining?" she gasped. "You almost didn't save Max last time! Excuse me for not thinking that this guy wouldn't be excited and might be eager to get this fun little show of your brutal murder on the road a bit quicker!"
"Shut up, there's no brutal murder coming to get me. I hurt my leg. Even if it was still hurt I'd be okay." He grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder, and genuinely surprised when she smacked his hand away with all the strength she had. "You're the sailor, you know how well a pirate can fight with peg legs. We'd just amputate."
"You're such a …" She bared her teeth. "You absolute ass!"
He rubbed his now sore hand. "We should go find Dawn."
"No!" Misty gasped.
Why?"
"Well…" She swallowed. "We're in Canalave."
"So?"
"You didn't meet her here, right?"
"Yeah."
"But…but the library's here!" she blurted, remembering the famous place. "We can research!"
"Research what?"
"Him." She grinned, proud of the idea. "The star haired man. We can try and figure out who he is."
"Why?"
She frowned. "This book isn't enough."
"How do you know? Did you read it at all?"
"Ash, let's just-"
"Why can't we just come back?"
"Maybe you shouldn't risk your life again after your recent fall!" she shouted.
Ash stared at her a moment, his eyes probing deeper than she liked. He compromised, "One day, so I can find a map, look for a car, then we're gone. Deal?"
She swallowed. "Deal."
He held out his hand awkwardly, and she stared at it for a moment, as if wondering if he seriously wanted to shake her hand for a deal after all the years they'd known each other. Still, weird as it was, she shook his hand and sealed it. Brock watched it all with a smile that was just a little too knowing for Misty's taste, and after she had smacked his stomach, they went off in search of the library, not that it was too hard to find.
Surprisingly, Ash remembered where it was remarkably well. He led them over the elaborate bridge, letting Misty look over the edge and be just a bit more touristy than either of the boys were, awed by the canal below. Once off the bridge, the peak of the library could be seen from anywhere in the second half of the town. As long as he walked towards it, they would find their way there. And they did. With a few swerves through the streets, he had led them to the glass building, and stood proudly in front of it. Which, both of the older two had to admit, was weird.
Because Ash Ketchum was not a fan of books.
Not to say he didn't like them, or that he hated them. He was quite neutral on the subject. It wasn't something he did for fun, but he didn't mind it. So the Canalave Library was nothing that made him very excited to visit. He liked the outside, shining and tall and fancy, but the inside was remarkably dull for him. The inside was stuffed with shelves stuffed with books, the walls painted with gorgeous murals of the Legendary pokémon from around the world. It had an elevator – an elevator. He'd never known a library to have its own elevator before, or so many books each floor had its own genre. His library in Pallet was lucky enough to have a corner devoted to children and teens, and that was only after a generous donation from the Oak's. He felt an awful lot like a hick in that building.
"Amazing," Misty breathed, seeming to still be in tourist mode as her head craned back.
He glanced at her. "What?"
"This is where they keep it. Any idea that's worth…that's worth anything to humanity gets put into a book, and this is where they keep all the books. It doesn't matter if it's a bad idea or a good idea, as long as it mattered. As long as it made a difference. It's here."
"Still a romantic, Misty?" he teased, elbowing her in the ribs.
"Isn't this library romantic?" she sighed in an absolutely dreamy (and extremely dead on) impression of herself at ten years old. "It makes me think about having an espresso and a baguette in a French café with pretty music in the background and me in a gorgeous floor length dress."
Brock laughed. "You forgot to direct that at Ash."
"Shut up!"
But it wasn't just her. She was joined by the red faced boy, who turned on his heel when she looked at him and plunged straight into a section on a Sinnoh's history that was up by the main desk. Technically, it was not where it was supposed to be, but it was something featured, a small sampling of what awaited in other areas. She rolled her eyes at his pathetic attempt of hiding his embarrassment, and pushed down that silly flutter in her stomach that thought about directing her previous romantic sentiments at Ash.
"We're looking for world history."
"Kanto history," Ash shot back.
"And why is that?"
"Misty, do you know how long my family has lived in Pallet?"
She sighed. "How long?"
"A few thousand years." He said flatly. "Trust me, if you want to find Chosen Ones, look through Kanto. That's where we all started. It may not be in that house, and maybe, maybe one or two made their way up to Viridian, but it's definitely Kanto. We don't have to look at everyone else in the world to figure it out."
She crossed her arms. "Well, do you know where that is, Sherlock?"
"Hey, I solved the mystery. You can do the grunt work, Holmes."
"That is not what Holmes did."
"How should I know?"
"We are in a library," she retorted. "Surrounded by books, there's probably an entire shelf for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his famous series."
"But we're here for research, not fun," he argued.
She rolled her eyes. "Read a book, Ketchum."
"I am, Misty Waters Williams? Nice name." Ash asked, arching his eyebrow. In his hands he held a half inch think piece of glass that made up the updated daily digital database. His fingers were flicking across the touch screen, looking through the library's files on the girl a few feet away. "Holy crap, it's got a whole profile on you! And I mean, hell, it says absolutely everything. I mean, it's got little family stories and everything. It has video clips! What else don't I know?"
"Ash, put it down!" she snapped, about to storm over.
Brock held her back with a chuckle. "Calm down. There's no secrets here."
"Hey, Brock, they got your baby pictures in here."
The boy blushed. "Ash, get out of the digitals!"
"Hey, Misty, want to see a small naked Brock?"
"Isn't small and naked redundant when we're talking about Brock?"
He glared. "I can't believe you sank so low."
"Oh, Brock," she sighed, smiling. "There's no secrets here."
"There is no secret! I'm not small, I'll have you know I'm-"
She immediately spun on her heel and ran up the stairs, shouting something along the lines of a childish, "La, la, la! I can't hear you!" Ash threw the glass aside and ran by Brock, taking care to smack the older boy on the back as he did. He followed them up the stairs, curving up a couple floors, stopping only briefly each time to see what each floor had for them. Finally, they found world history on the third floor and raced back into the Kanto aisle. And, twenty minutes of boring searches later, Misty thrust a book in the air.
"Through the Ages, subtitle, The Chosen Ones. Voila, boys. We've found ourselves a jackpot!" she called.
"Why?" Ash asked.
"Chosen Ones are always heroes, you know that," Misty retorted. "And they're always the biggest heroes, so if they're going to test anyone, it's going to be the biggest ones. The most noticeable ones. That's where your very special lineage comes in." She jabbed him in the chest teasingly.
Ash shook his head. "No, I was talking to Brock. He's over here still talking about how you just insulted his manhood. I mean, why did you try sharing that piece of information with us? Why would we ever want to know whether or not you have an appropriately sized thing?"
Misty pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's called a penis, Ash."
"How would you know?" he snapped, blushing.
"Ash, I'm eighteen. I know what a penis is."
He arched his eyebrow and beamed over the aisles. "From experience?"
She stared for a moment, then rolled her eyes. "Okay, so. The Chosen-"
"No, good question," Brock agreed, leaning on one of the shelves. "I know Ash doesn't have any experience, and despite how hard I try, I don't have any either. So, Misty, do you have some stories to share?"
"I'm not going to tell you whether or not I'm a virgin."
Brock nodded. "Don't worry, Ash. She's definitely pure."
"You don't know that!" she yelped. "And what the hell does the fact of my chastity belt being intact have to do with the situation we're in?"
"We're two sexually strung out boys, and you have boobs," Brock explained. "This conversation had to happen sooner or later. I'm sorry, Misty, but the fact that I usually think of you as a sister does not excuse the fact that we are absolutely not related by blood."
She glared. "Through the Ages: The Chosen Ones. How about you start reading this one, and since I'm the only one whose blood is apparently still fighting against gravity and going up into my heart instead of down into my pants, I'll walk far away from the two of you and see if I can find something else that could be helpful."
"You made the sex joke, Misty Waters," Ash muttered.
She threw a book at his head. He picked it up, assuming it was another book on Chosen Ones. It was not. It was simply the heaviest hardcover within her reach. So, instead he took the other book from Brock, throwing another digital database aside, and sitting down with a grumpy look on his face as he began to read. Brock read over his shoulder for a few minutes, but after a couple of chapters and realizing he didn't have a clue what he was looking for, he excused himself from Ash and went off to find Misty.
She was on the other side of the floor by now, and she was carrying a small stack of books in her hands, none of them looking anywhere near as helpful as the one up front. Instead, they were small collections of Chosen One histories, and one that was some weird collection of scientific history. Brock tugged her deeper into the shelves, and she tripped into the aisle with him, scanning behind her once to make sure Ash hadn't seen them or at least wouldn't follow. The boy seemed much too wrapped up in his book to care. Brock prodded at her, forcing her to abandon her search for Ash and focus on the boy on front of her.
"If you know who it is, why are you fumbling around and acting like you don't have a clue?" he accused.
She balanced her books precariously on the shelf, mumbling, "I don't know for sure."
"You have an idea, though?"
"Yes! And we're not fumbling. I know what we're looking for, and we're looking in the right places."
"We're looking at Chosen Ones!" Brock hissed. "How does seeing his predecessors get slaughtered help anything?"
She hissed back, "Because that's where he is!"
"He's in their slaughter?"
"In the aneurisms," she explained. "A lot of them…they didn't always have the word, but it was an aneurism for most. They had the symptoms, and in the ones they autopsied they talked about how the veins were always bulging. They weren't just one. It was…it was like an explosion in their head, Brock. They exploded every last one."
"He made a blood vessel in their head explode. How'd he manage THAT?"
"First of all, it's way more than one. Second of all, it always happens when they're young, teens or early twenties, for all of them, except Ash so far." She sighed, closing her eyes for a second and pushing out a few horrible images in her mind before pressing on. "But if you go back, the pattern breaks. Chosen Ones make it past thirty. They live a happy, successful life. So, he wasn't there then, or he was learning how to do all of this."
"But how does an aneur-"
"Think, Brock! Don't make me say it." She clenched her fists. "If I say it, it'll draw his attention."
"Misty, I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I don't get it."
"All of the Chosen Ones were born in Kanto," she hissed. "Ash's family was born in Kanto. In Pallet, Brock. Every last one of them was born in Pallet. All of this actually started happening once Ash came back to Pallet. The star haired man waited for weeks before attacking, even though Ash saw him on the bridge. Don't you see it?"
"I see the pattern, but I don't know what it means. Just tell me, Misty."
She gulped, leaning forward. "He looks like Ash."
"What?"
"His features look just like Ash. Different colors, that's it." She licked her lips. "Think, Brock. Make the connection."
And then he did. His eyes went wide and he clutched onto Misty's hand. "Which one is he?"
"I have to find the story. I'll give it to you the second I do. But I can't say it. He'll run over in no time if I say it."
But Ash came over, eyes wide as he held out the book. She asked him right of the bat what he had heard, not that she needed too. It was clear he had heard everything, in the way he ducked his head and was breathing quickly one moment and slow the next. It was clear he had made the same connection Brock had, and that all three of them were just about as close to solving the mystery of how and why they were where they were as Misty had been just a few minutes before.
"This is what you need."
"The story?" she asked softly, taking the book and pressing it to her chest.
He stared for a moment, then whispered, "He's a Chosen One, too?"
And, instantly, every light in the library went out. They weren't proud that they screamed. The only thing that happened was that the light went out and a nice, chilly wind flew through behind them, but they screamed like something had grabbed them or as if something was hiding out in the darkness. There wasn't. It had been a cheap scare tactic, so ridiculous Ash half expected an eight year old Gary to come sneaking around the corner and laugh about how surprised their faces had bee. Instead, the library lit up and was no longer a library.
Well, it was a library. It was a smaller library, though. A big, circular room about the size of a classroom, with floors of a deep colored, smoothly finished wood. The lower half of the wall, in spot uncluttered by tables and windows and shelves, was covered with a lighter, upright slats of wood, while the top half was made with a boring white wallpaper, flecked with green. It scooped into a well at the center, with two shallow steps down into the carpeted floors the were covered with toys and random household objects. The ceiling above was rounded, painted with Sinnoh's constellations.
"Beautiful," Misty murmured, feeling a bit like a broken record.
"Where's the light?" Ash asked.
"What?"
"There's no lights here," he continued slowly. "So why is it light?"
"I'm focused on the little podium." Brock pointed, shaking off his own eerie feelings about where the light could have come from.
The little wooden podium was aimed towards the well, like one might bring in a class and read them Where the Wild Things Are or a selection from the Junie B Jones series. They went to it, eyeing the paper flat on the podium as if it would come up with a snap, and take off their heads or their hands. Ash nudged Misty forward, and after a sharp glare his way, she tentative picked up the paper and told the boys, "It's another riddle."
"There aren't any doors. Do we need a mirror?"
"There are windows," she said. "And we did that one already."
"What's this one then?"
She read, sounding genuinely confused, "I'm afraid to go home. The man in the mask is there."
"I don't like this," Ash muttered.
"I don't like that I'm here. Can't this be another riddle date for you two?"
Her fingers drummed at the wood. "I'm afraid to go home."
"Yeah, we heard you."
"Home is the key. The man in the mask can be a number of things. If you figure out what home is, you've got the riddle."
"Home is where the heart is?"
"The man in the mask, then." She frowned. "Denial's the man in the mask?"
Behind them came an old, rusty groan, and they turned to see a large metal gate sliding up before a dark hallway. A creature stumbled forward from its depths, much bigger than it should have been for its type. It had a huge, monstrous form, made of solid muscle and twice the size of the average slaking. It cracked the floor with every massive step it took forward, its hulking form casually sniffing the air and focusing hard on the group in front of it.
Misty gulped. "Please, please tell me you have a slaking."
Ash squeaked. "I don't have a slacking."
"Please tell me this slaking looks as lazy as all fuck."
"This slaking looks like it could hunt down a rapidash and skip home on a full belly," Ash squeaked again. His hand instantly went to his belt, pressing the button on one of the containers and feeling it expand comfortable under his hand and he sighed a little bit. "My pokeballs are working."
"Are you going to let one out?" Brock growled.
"Um…I don't want to startle it. It looks rather peaceful right now." Ash paused. "Well, not peaceful. Bored. Bored and bloodthirsty. Where does he find these things?"
"He makes them," Brock retorted. "Like he makes everything else in this world. Right, Misty?"
"How should I know?" she snapped.
"Maybe it won't attack until we make another guess." Ash swallowed, and elbowed the girl next to him. "Misty, get it right this time."
"Why don't I know this one?" she muttered. "The answer's probably about-"
The slaking let out a long slow snort, and the whole group froze, all except Brock, who said, "Don't be sarcastic."
"What?"
"It'll take it as a guess. Don't be sarcastic."
"I'll try not to. Give me another definition."
"Home is a house," Ash tried.
"I…give me another!"
"I can't think!" Ash yelped. "There's a giant monster that wants to eat me. I'm a bit busy coming up with battle strategies."
"You're such a boy!" she squeaked.
"Now isn't the time for arguing," Brock retorted. "Can we start thinking?"
"You suggest an idea!" Misty growled. "Oh, you're over there with your jokes about us dating. Well, Brock-o, now's not the time for joking. We need some answers, so you better start brainstorming what home means to you."
"Uh…I…" He swallowed. "Family?"
"So what would the man in the mask be?"
Brock laughed a little. "My dad on Halloween?"
The slaking's jaw opened and it screamed, the roar so powerful for a second, the three (and Pikachu) went deaf. But Ash's mouth formed the word "thunderbolt" so the mouse leapt forward and released the attack, a Thunder. It wasn't what his master ordered, but he was afraid of the beast that didn't feel like a real pokémon, with nothing but a carnal sort of rage coming off of it in a thick, coppery scent. It fell back, crying out, then shook its massive head and roared at Pikachu. The Thunder hadn't done a thing.
Pikachu looked back at Ash, eyes wide. "Agility!" he ordered, then grabbed Misty by the wrist and pulled her up onto the nearest table. "Start thinking, Misty."
"What the hell do you mean?" she shouted. "Let me help!"
"We don't have time for this crap! Brock and I can't solve riddles, you can, so fucking work on it!"
But her mind was with him. She was a trainer first, a gym leader first, and her mind buzzed with ways to try and stop the beast. She didn't have her pokémon, yet she was flicking through their list of attacks, thinking of the strengths and weakness of the beast in front of her. Then he slapped her, hard enough to make her thoughts stop. She looked up to yell at him, but he leaned down to her, eyes locked fiercely on and growled, "Misty, think."
He ran off, leaving her behind to brainstorm.
He tossed a pokeball to Brock, not bothering to check which pokémon. It was a normal type, and he only had one fighting type on him. Though, he doubted it mattered either way. If the thing could brush off Pikachu's Thunder, all he was going to manage to pull off would be a minor distraction. So that was what he intended on doing. He didn't plan on knocking it out, or harming the beast, just distracting it form the girl on the table. Out came Torterra from his pokeball, and Brock released Infernape. And, what did good distractions do? Stop the opponent.
Torterra's eyes glowed with nature's power, and grass grew between the cracks, reached out and tripped the massive beast. It fell to the ground so hard the wood cracked beneath it. It sat up glaring at the plants that bound its feet, and snapped it easily. Infernape beat at it with kicks and hits, anything that might have been a fighting type move or perhaps a valiant struggle. The fire type danced away after each hit, continuously looking back at Ash with a clear fear glowing in his eyes.
Once, however, he looked a little too long, and the slaking picked it up and sat down, letting the pocket monster struggle in its hand. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed at the thing that had harmed it, ignoring Torterra as he beat at it with leaves and seeds while Pikachu did everything he could. Then, the slaking squeezed. There was a horrifying cracking sound, and screams ripped from all their throats as Infernape went limp in the monster's hands. A moment later, the massive mouth opened once more and sunk its teeth into the corpse, ripping it apart and gulping it down with a cheerful lee.
"Pikachu, get back!" Ash shouted.
The little mouse looked up and shook its head.
"Pikachu, get back or I'll put you in your ball!" He ripped it out on his pocket and flashed it at his dearest friend, the lightning mark showing that it was, in fact, Pikachu's. "Get the hell away from that thing!"
Pikachu didn't. He used Thunder once more, the whole library covered in clouds and a jet of lightning as thick as the slaking coming down on its head. The slaking grunted its displeasure and turned, tromping after the mouse, its massive jowls stained with coppery blood. He was quick, and he stayed far away, half listening to his master's orders. Pikachu got away from it, alright, but he continued the battle with long distance attacks. Little zaps and thunderbolt kept it mad, tumbling after him.
Even while Ash was screaming in his ears to return, and little jets of red light were hot on his tail.
Then Misty broke it, she stood on the rickety wooden table and screamed over Ash and Brock and the thunderous pounding of hands and feet, "Baseball!" The slaking looked at her, stood up on its hind legs with Pikachu forgotten and roared. "I'm afraid to go home because the man in the mask is there! The player can't go back because of the catcher! It's baseball! I fucking hate baseball but it's baseball!" It roared again, stomping up to her with teeth bared. "Ash, find it!"
"What?" he shouted back. "Pikachu, Thunder!"
She looked at him, barely registering that he had just put Pikachu back in harm's way, eyes wide as the slaking began to raise its massive paw. "Ash! The baseball!"
He leapt at the slaking, a chair in hand, then slammed it hard into the thing's back. It spun to face him, nostrils flaring, and he realized that if the combined attacks of his pokémon wouldn't leave a dent, his pathetic muscles and a chair wouldn't do much. But he had to do something. He couldn't have the beast crushing Misty like some horrible rewrite of King Kong. He supposed doing something else, anything else to get its attention would have been smarter
Misty seemed to agree, shouting back, "Are you fucking retarded?"
"I'm trying to save your life. Sorry!" he shouted back, throwing his arms out to the side. "Next time, I'll let you die!"
"Stop bitching and get the baseball!" she shouted, picking up the nearest thing to her of the closest bookshelf and tossing it at the slaking's head, which was still very focused on Ash. Which, once it bounced off and rolled to the floor, she immediately took back her previous insult.
Ash gawked. "Was that the baseball?"
She made a face a muttered a few choice swear words. Brock commanded torterra to use Razor Leaf. The turtle pushed the beast back with attacks aimed at the nose and the eyes, anything that might be sensitive, allowing Ash to race forward and pick it up. The red stitching and white fabric vanished into the classic color of a pokeball. He decided not to take the time to check what pokemon it was. Instead, he raced across, snatched up Misty's and Brock's hands, then tugged them out down a now obvious door marked exit.
The slid out the door, and it slammed behind them, the slaking now settled in its cage with a look of mild disappointment, its meaty hand waving at them at it pushed out through the gate, trying to call them back, the library now little more than the single room they'd been standing in and large windows for looking at the thing. The three stared at it, before Ash said in a voice that was surprisingly steady and calm, "Why did it kill Infernape?"
Misty took a shuddering breath. "Ash, have you ever had a Happy Meal?"
"Yeah."
"Imagine the toy in that was not only edible, but made of delicious candy." She shook her head, her knees feeling weak. "He…oh, Mew."
"You think it wanted to eat us, or do you think that it just…?"
"Ash, this isn't really a matter of thinking. I'm pretty damn positive it wanted to eat us."
"I'm going to back Misty up on this." Brock's voice was shaking hard as well. "Even if she did throw the baseball."
"I panicked. It's scary."
The thing grunted, falling back on its ass and letting a low rumble out from the back of its throat, its hand still hanging limply outside of the bars.
Then Ash fell to his knees and cried, deep, wracking sobs, and his friends held him until he stopped, because there was nothing else to do. And when his tears finally faded away and he was able to stand on his own two feet, they wandered Canalave for a hotel. They chose the lowest floor, the easiest entrance, and though it wasn't as fancy as the last place they crashed, it was nice enough. It had beds and kitchens fully stocked, and they sat and ate chocolate to dull the pain.
Then night fell. It came so quick and they were all so exhausted that they hadn't bothered cleaning up, and fell asleep on their beds surrounded by chocolate wrappers and stains on the bed. Ash woke up at midnight, ears practically twitching at a vaguely familiar sound. He rolled over softly to see where it was coming from, a bit afraid that the star haired man would be sitting there with a wicked snarl, about to douse him in another round of psychological warfare.
"Young soldier, young soldier, come marching home. You field unattended you wife's all alone. The babies they cry, they'll reach out and grin, when young soldier, young soldier comes marching in."
That wasn't the star haired man. It was a song, and it was from Kanto, and it woke up all sorts of long nights where his mother would sing to him before he went out traveling. It was Misty singing it, and it wasn't in those sweet, motherly tones he was used to the song being sung. It was the tone that said she was worried, left home alone while her brothers and uncle and fathers had gone out to fight a war, and many already weren't returning.
"The battle, the battle is calling to you. We know you must go, we know that you do. Still lonely are we, without our men here. Young soldier your dying is all that we fear.
"Oh the road is so long and the risks are so high, while things are attacking from water and sky. The land that you tread on is growling for meat, for the blood of the soldier and the last battle's heat.
"Young soldier, young soldier, don't die out there. We sit and we hope and we send you our prayers. Your children are waiting and your wife dreams of you. Younger soldier, come marching, young soldier please do."
He sat up slowly, hearing her begin another round of the song, the same verse and chorus, and whispered, "I'm not going to die, Mist."
"And…and who says I was singing about you, huh?" she snapped, glaring at him with red rimmed eyes. "Maybe I was just singing. It's a nice song, you know."
He reached his hand across their beds, wrapping his hand around her wrist. "Misty, I'll be back."
The redhead stared at where their skin touched, horrified that it tingled. Her hand vanished under the pillow, and she locked eyes with him, suddenly sounding very solemn, "Ash, when we save Dawn, the first part is over."
"You mean it's all done."
"No. The first part, Ash. Just the first part. There's plenty more to come, and it's going to be a lot harder than this, trust me." Her eyes narrowed. "When you save her, the first thing you'll be told is that it's not real. That everything that happened down here wake up, you think it's a dream, he gets to wait until you die and he can play his little game all over again."
"Why would I think it's all a dream?"
"Ash, listen. They're going to tell you it's not real, but I'm going to believe it, and so is May and Max and Dawn and…" She swallowed, rolling away from him and seeming to reach for something on the floor. "Say you trust me, Ash."
"I trust you."
"With anything."
"With anything," he agreed.
"Hold out your hand," he did, and, in a flash, she twisted and her hand was slammed onto his, the searing piece of medal that was the Cerulean badge burning between them. He screamed and pulled back on instinct, but her hand was locked much too fiercely on his. Her face was an inch from his, eyes flicking to the slowing waking Brock. "I know you think I'm crazy, Ash, but this'll make sense. I promise, just give it a minute."
"Let go!" he cried, twisting. "How the hell did you heat this up, anyway?"
She dug her nails into the back of his hand once, then dropped it. "You'll remember how you got this. It's a second degree burn, we don't have any special cream to make the scars go away, not on us, at least. No matter what this will be your proof." She held up her hand, the burn welling up on her palm. "If you ever need something to help you believe, just look down."
"You branded me," he realized, staring at his hand. "Why?"
"You'll have this until the day you die. You'll never forget. And when they see my hand in the same place, they'll know it's absolutely true."
"Misty, what's going on?" Brock asked, sitting up slowly.
"I can't tell." She shook her head. "Go back to sleep, Brock."
"Did you just burn him?" he asked. "Is that a fire next to your bed?"
"It's small and containable," she retorted, then looked back at Ash. "Remember the shock you went into?"
"Yeah."
"If you know what's going on, it'll be a hundred time worse. You can't go through it."
"But you can?"
"Probably not, but I don't want to take you down with me."
"But you-"
Brock groaned, getting to his feet. "Alright, I'll stop being the third wheel. I'm going to go find chocolate cake. Because, you know what? I don't care that we've eaten our weights in chocolate. I think I could use some more comfort food. Hell, I might make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
Misty smiled at him, and that was all the thanks and incentive he needed to leave. Misty held her hand up to Ash, showing him the horribly bubbling, burned skin. "You said you trusted me, no matter what happened, Ash, we trust each other. Right now, that's all we have. Trust."
He smiled weakly. "What about hope?"
"Hope is for people who don't have good plans." She glared. "Ketchum, we are going to make a hell of a plan when we get out of here. No matter how much you hate me."
"I don't hate you," he argued. "Mist, I could never hate you."
"You could too."
"Probably, but I don't right now." He held his hand up to his face. "You know, I just wish you had warned me before you burned your badge into my hand. I would have asked for something cooler, maybe a tattoo on my shoulder of a gravestone."
She arched an eyebrow. "A gravestone tattoo?"
"Yeah."
"Who the hell has a gravestone tattoo?"
"Well, if you had talked to me, I would have."
"You're never getting a gravestone tattoo."
"And who are you to say?"
"I'm Misty. Don't you remember that you have to do whatever I say?"
He laughed. "Whatever you say?"
"Uh huh."
"I don't remember that."
"Then I'm going to have to teach you all over again," she shot back. "We've spent way too much time apart, Ketchum. You've forgotten all those rules I taught you."
He rushed forward, grabbing her around her waist, and wrestling with her on the bed. She shrieked, kicking him away. "You're going to set me on fire, you idiot!"
He stopped, arms still clenched around her waist. His lips brushed her ear as he leaned forward, retorting in his corniest pick up line voice, "You always set me on fire. Don't you think I ought to repay the favor?"
She giggled, twisting out of his arms to face him. "You shouldn't start something if you don't intend to finish it. Are you going to run off and get a spike through your leg before I can kiss you properly this time? Because I'm not taking another excuse like that again."
"Good."
"Good?" she repeated.
"Before I save Dawn, Misty…" He swallowed. "I don't know if you know this, but I had a crush on your when I was little. I know I said I didn't, but I had a crush on you when I was eleven. I remember we were in the Orange Islands, and you said something about people changing when they kissed. And you know what?"
She sighed. "You thought I was talking about people involving into superheroes?"
"Actually, no." He laughed a little. "I, uh, I was thinking about what it'd be like to kiss you, and that's when I figured out I had a crush on you."
"Oh," she replied, eyes widening. "I didn't know."
"If I die-"
She shook her head. "Let's not talk about it."
"Misty, please. If I die, I don't want to…" He shook his head. "Everyone's got a bucket list. I've done pretty much everything on mine. I mean, hell, I'm not a pokémon master in title, but I think I'm pretty damn close anyway, and I can't do anything about it here. But the one thing I've always wanted, that I've always regretted, was that I let you leave and I never kissed you. I didn't even try. I've always, always regretted not kissing you."
"Really?" She grinned. "I'm on the famous Ketchum's lists of should haves?"
"You're number one."
"Careful, Ash. My ego is showing."
"So, can I cross you off the list?" he asked, nervously. "As a guy's wish on death row?"
"You mean…you want a kiss?"
"That's all. I don't need to get into your pants tonight. We can save it for when I come back."
She took his hand in hers, their burns touching. "Ash Ketchum, I solemnly promise you that if you do me the favor of coming back alive, not only will you get to cross me off your list, you'll be allowed to kiss me anytime you want. Just come on up, kiss me right on the lips and walk away."
He shrugged. "That's a good incentive. I might take you up on that."
"Yeah," she countered, "but it means that we can't kiss until you get back from saving Dawn."
"But I can kiss you anytime I want afterwards?"
She laughed. "Hey, if you come back without a scratch, I might even throw in some tongue. Sounds like a deal?"
"I'd rather have cash."
"And why's that?"
"Because then I could pay your sisters," he joked.
"Ash Ketchum, you ass!" She gasped, and slapped him hard on the shoulder.
He caught her wrists and stared at her for a moment, eyes flashing up at her lips that were no longer stuck in a teasing smile, but slightly parted. Her heart stopped for a moment, and she wondered if he was really going to kiss her, despite all the teasing and flirting, that he would really take the chance. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, though, holding his lips there far longer than necessary. Then he pulled away softly, wordlessly, and went back to bed,
And Misty followed him with her eyes, barely breathing, before flipping over and staring down at her shaking hand. Then she closed her eyes, blinked back tears and whispered, "Damn."
Sorry I've been away for so long, but this was a BIG chapter! So, line on up and take your bets as to where it'll go from here.
And, Happy Holidays! (though, er, some of them have ended already)