DISCLAIMER: Pokémon belongs to Satoshi Tajiri. My oc's belong to me.
Sunlight's Return
Chapter 14
"Man of Constant Sorrow"
There she was.
Basked in the moonlight, she was radiant against the stark light beams while holding their six-month-old baby in her arms. Peeking through the bedroom door, he ghosted behind her, a gentle hand at the waist, informing her of his presence. But she did not jump, and was instead soothed by his familiar touch. His fingers lightly grazed her side as a cast of blue eyes peered over her shoulder.
"He fell asleep?" Jay said rather than asked, sweetly enraptured by the round innocent face snoozing so soundly.
"Soon after you pulled in," answered Delia in a whisper, glancing to him. She had heard the truck swerve next to the house gate, making her husband's arrival known to her. "He's been fussy up until then," she explained.
And Jay could believe such. Delia's single braid was fairly intact when Jay left for work early that morning, and now it was strewn out, hair sticking out between each entwined twist, the hairband keeping the auburn tresses altogether, loose. Her pajamas were also ruffled, and the dark circles under her eyes concerned Jay deeply.
"I'm sorry I couldn't have come home sooner, Del," he apologized in a hushed tone, his arm now wrapped around his wife and tenderly massaging her shoulder. "I know you've been working overtime, hon." Every morning, Jay hated to leave Delia knowing how worn and how deserving she was of a decent break from their rightfully demanding baby. While neither one of them regretted having Ash, Jay certainly wished he could have stayed home longer to provide aid to Delia and spend time and bond with his little boy who bore a striking resemblance to his proud father.
Seeing him in the late evening, and volunteering to take night shifts for Delia to get some rest, was about the only time Jay could savor with Ash. But he didn't care about his dreary eyes and constant yawning. Holding Ash and providing necessary care filled his heart with such joy and indubitable devotion.
Sensing his sincerely apologetic tone, Delia lifted her gaze. "Don't be," she smiled reassuringly. "I know you've been working late. You must be tired, too," she noted, nuzzling under his chin.
The tickling sent a warm tingle up Jay's spine, comforted by his wife's innocent notion of affection. "Yeah..." He inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, embracing her touch.
With the physical dialogue of tenderness being quietly relished between the young couple, Jay was pacified not only by his wife's loving touch and overall presence, but completely amazed and entranced with the sleeping babe in Delia's arms. A new feeling that had been stirring within the young man for the last six months had left him lost for words to describe. Yet the feeling was so sublime, he wished he could find the exquisite poetic tongue to elucidate what was burning inside his heart.
A soft breath exhaled through his nostrils. "I just can't get over it," he said in a low voice.
Easing up on burying into his chin, Delia picked up on the wonderment in his tone. "What?" she asked.
Jay sighed thoughtfully. "How just...precious he is."
Without a second thought, Delia understood what Jay was getting across. What he was experiencing. It was the exact same feeling that had been pumping pleasantly within her own heart, both of them coming face to face with the natural love, devotion, and utter stupefaction of elation they felt for their own flesh and blood. To fully comprehend what it meant to be a doting and attentive parent for the little miracle they created...
"He is incredibly precious," agreed Delia, her gentle smile perfectly intact. "Our little Ash..." Her eyes shifted from Jay to their son, her bright grin widening all the more as blissful thoughts erupted with excitement for the future. "I can't wait to discover what he'll be like," she continued, fingertips softly tracing the outline of his petite face. "His interests, his dreams..."
Trailing wonders of Delia soon consumed her husband as well. There was a haze as he recognized bits and pieces of the distant reality to come, what he somehow knew and could see of Ash, how he glowed with such content and spirit. Though his vision's fate ended in a shadowy cast. In that instant, something sharp dragged itself sluggishly, but enunciating down Jay's deepest core as if his heart was gradually trickling blood. A want, a deep desire to unearth who his son was much as Delia wanted was just within Jay's reach- yet he felt it slipping even as his fingers tenderly ran themselves across his short baby midnight locks.
Chestnut eyes abruptly lingered upward, caught off guard by what sounded like faint sobs. Delia's mouth quivered once she saw Jay's head hanging low, fright and concern bathing in her angelic voice. "What is it?" she asked, hoping to capture the shielded gaze of her husband.
In time, Jay lifted his head and tried to dry whatever tears suddenly felt inclined to pour. He didn't understand why he was crying, nor this impending fear of separation and estrangement and why they petrified his psyche on such a deep level. Steadily, he held her attention and could sense by the shift in her own eyes that his hue had turned another unreadable shade. A deep breath was sucked in.
"I never want to forget this moment," whispered Jay, his voice softening. "Of you, me, and him. Of all of us...together."
Loving fingers ran across Jay's cheek, smearing a stray tear that he had neglected to hide. Delia's beautiful bittersweet smile bloomed. "You never will."
In that precious exchange of words, the world around Jay became utterly dark. The last intelligible words repeated themselves in a taunting manner between each snooze of coma-like sleep, the reality Jay dreamt himself in slowly drifting away. As if it was out of his reach. As if he was being distanced from them, with no indicator of his family missing his presence. He was fading, murmured voices lost in a sea of garbled screams and laughter. He was slipping further and further down, now being drowned in murky depths of deep blue cold waves and blurry bubbles. Like he was reliving the action of sinking to the bottom of the ocean floor. In this instance, however, there was no hand coming to save him, to pull him out of the treacherous, pitch-black abyss he had sunk into by a force he was struggling to fight on his own-
All alone.
In a raspy gasp, eyes flew open, greeted by what appeared to be a tainted, muted color ceiling and outdated fan spinning above.
Jay crinkled his eyelids at the sight, his fuzzy gaze fluttering towards the side. Where was he? This certainly wasn't his room at the Pokémon Center; the odor alone sure gave him a clear indicator of that. Then if he was here in this foreign place... What happened last night? Jay could hardly remember a thing, though the pain on his right wrist was strangely dominant. That and the discomfort in his throbbing skull. Instantly, he had an aching feeling of his symptoms, dreading the worst while bleary remembrances of the previous night played in his mind. But sadly, the events remained ambiguous. And why was the atmosphere so quiet? And where was?-
The sound of a bathroom door opening alerted Jay to jump, yet his body scarcely moved in its weak condition. Footsteps were soon heard after a long eerie squeak resounded from the door, a shadow being cast by the side of the bed in which Jay lay upon.
"Glad to see you're up. You feeling okay?"
With an adjustment to the light, Jay saw Drake softly smiling as he stood before him. He had a hand-towel draped over his broad shoulder and was still dressed in his clothes from yesterday.
"Where were you?" Jay croaked, beginning to sit up. "Where are we?"
"I was washing my face," he replied, gesturing towards the bathroom. "I decided the shower here wasn't worth tangoing with..." As his words trailed, his hands dove for the towel hanging off him, slightly furrowed brows gleaming at the dark green fabric in his grasp. "Though unfortunately, these towels here are extremely rough. And as to where we are, I had no choice last night but to take us to a motel." He had snagged them a room outside the main lobby, helping a severely fumbling Jay up a fleet of rickety metal stairs and to a room on the top floor of the extension of the building.
Drake shot his gaze back up at his brother, finding Jay peering at him with a plain expression. His dreary eyes and clamped shut mouth indicated the effects of the hangover were lingering, and that he possibly had faint or barely any recollection of their night on the town.
The islander eventually frowned, still studying his face. "Do you remember anything from last night?" he asked, cocking a brow.
Jay's eyes shifted with a sardonic twinge. "I got wasted?" he more so stated than asked.
Sighing, Drake nodded.
A groan emerged. "God, my head is killing me." Gently, fingers met his temple, rubbing it coarsely. "Uggh, what time is it?"
"Almost eight. I called Misty late last night and finally got a hold of her this morning. I'm going to have to pick her up from the center." Another pause occurred, the abrupt scrutinizing of facial expressions commencing once again. "You seriously don't remember anything from last night?" repeated Drake, hoping he wouldn't have to tell all the less than enjoyable details they endured.
Jay winced. "I told you, I don't. Uggh, I feel like shit," he grumbled, his tired eyes flashing up with the covering of dark bangs. "Ya mind filling me in on what happened?"
The inhaling through Drake's nostrils left Jay unsure of what to make of the previous night's escapades. And so, it was his turn to read his brother, watching him uncomfortably squirm until he slapped the side of his legs with his hands.
"Where should I start?" he breathed, now taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Staring down at the faded bedspread, Drake paused, deciding where to begin. There was so much to go over, none of which he was thrilled to do. But Jay was waiting, the anxiousness of not knowing showing through his muscle movements.
"Well," Drake slowly began, considering his wording, "let's just say you had a few too many drinks at the bar."
"Thanks, Sherlock, I already figure that one out," snapped the master. Another aggravating jolt to his head added to his flared temper. "Mind telling me something I don't already know?" he threw back, and leaned his head against the headboard. It was incredibly hard. Uncomfortable.
Huffing at the snappy remark, Drake's expression stiffened with seriousness and exasperation. "First," he started once more, folding his arms over his chest, "you made me ingest this weird drink that was green and bubbly, and had a really sour flavor-"
"I remember that."
At least he could recall that much. Then again, that was before Jay was fully intoxicated.
"You also irritated the bartender after four porter beers and one shot of tequila; you quoted Wuthering Heights, you rallied a whole group of men and shared personal stories, one about sex deprivation, might I add-"
"Oh, God," grumbled Jay, his face falling into his hands. Slowly, he rubbed his fingers down his face, desperate eyes glancing to Drake with uneasiness. None of that was he proud of, but the last one surely rattled his nerves. "Please tell me it wasn't anything overtly dirty-"
"No, you said it in a much more- poetic way."
That was the best way Drake could describe Jay's internal struggle regarding his lack of intimate lust. Even at that, the want to know more and the fear of knowing the truth rode heavily in Jay's gut, and left him torn on if he should put the kibosh on his brother's confessions of the night or let him proceed. Already, barely into the night of embarrassing actions, he felt like an utter fool.
"Well, that much is comforting," sighed Jay. His head drooped down, a hand resting on his forehead. He inhaled. "Continue."
"Then, before that you shared very personal things with me in which I didn't expect nor want to hear," Drake explained, immediately causing Jay to rise up. "Like the song you danced to at prom with...her. And...Mark, for example."
In what he thought would send his brother into a deep shade of red out of the reveal or either be sent into a complete tirade at the mention of the sleazy man, Drake was shockingly faced with quietness. The rhythmic sound of the old fan spinning above took over the room, faint dust particles being kicked up as they fell to the unattractive carpet. He continued to watch Jay closely, gulping as he forecast some kind of negative response.
Sooner than later, Jay squinted, his face scrunched. "Who?"
Raised brows and a theatrical agape mouth occurred. Obviously, Jay's increasing headache was preventing from recalling many things. "You've got to be kidding me?" said the islander, utterly baffled. "The guy who supposedly made a pass at Delia? I'm sure it hasn't been easy to forget him."
That was true. Dismissing the man who had attempted to pursue his wife and send his son into a scared frenzy- that had not been so easy to forget, to simply let go and say: let bygones be bygones. A part of Jay could not blame Delia if she was intending on seeking a loving companion elsewhere, but still the idea of her not being with him frustrated the master in such a way he had never felt before. Back in their high school days of fluctuating emotions and rapidly changing hormones, Jay never had a fondness for Mark, nor did he necessarily detest him. He was just...there. And rather annoyingly cocky with his bragging rights on the baseball team and his even, glistening tan that always made girls squeal. Otherwise, Jay hardly gave the guy a single thought or glance till he had seen him slowly court his friend. His best friend.
In turn, Jay found himself in bitter silence. He wasn't known for jealousy in his character, feeling all the more irked and confused over the situation. Delia was important to him, and soon he realized this was because she was his first real friend. Someone who really cared about him and recognized every fiber of what made him...Jay. Delia was too good of a friend to let something stand in the way of their blooming friendship, and the sudden conception of her being with someone else... Jay and Delia were already facing a minor strain in their new friendship thanks to Annie's original dislike for Delia over her winning a local beauty pageant, perpetuating the whole situation of Delia's avoidance of Jay. It was a classic high school fiasco Jay felt belonged on the cover of an overrated chick flick. Surprisingly, though, it wasn't until Annie came around and begrudgingly saw Delia for who she was, and Chad's constant prodding at Jay to do something, to say something...
To tell her how he felt about her.
So after all those unnecessary obstacles, Jay was staggered Mark came back around for a second time so many years later, seeing his petty attempt at asking Delia out never fell through and such drama seemed to hardly exist between the once two teenage boys. Neither one of them spoke about it, and Delia willingly agreed she wished to be better friends with Jay, and very much closer in some ways... Needless to say, the entire Mark situation of him coming to Pallet to aid Prof. Oak in "research" truly threw Jay for a loop. He could barely stomach what Mark had tried to do at the reunion when Prof. Oak calmly informed him of the unforeseen spectacle. And poor Delia, undeservingly manipulated and forced into a highly unbearable confrontation she wanted no part in...
For a moment, Jay gleamed down at the discolored cover on the bed. The mention hit him like a ton of bricks. "No... It hasn't... What did I say about him?" he asked quietly, now looking to Drake.
"Just...stuff," he replied cautiously. It was probably wise not to go into the details at the present time, and Drake was still struggling on how to broach the subject to begin with. However, he knew Jay wanted answers and, in a sense, he deserved to hear what juicy details he disclosed to Drake. Just not now.
Firmly, but with slight nervousness, the islander spoke again. "Listen Jay, we can talk about that later. There's um- something more pressing I think I should tell you."
In truth, that other thing had been on Drake's mind all morning. Worrying endlessly how Jay would react to the result of this little stunt. He cringed silently, trepidation beginning to go to his head once more.
Catching on to the anxiety in Drake's eyes, Jay panicked. "What? What did I do?" Then, the color in his face started to drain. "Don't tell me I did something stupid to jeopardize-"
"No," Drake cut in, waving his hands. He understood what he was implying. "There was no girl who came home with us. Believe me, I already saw that one coming and hauled you out of the bar before you noticed."
"Then what the hell did I do?"
If they carried on this guessing game, Drake believed there was a slim chance of his brother actually unveiling the correct answer. It was torture enough to make him wait for the truth, and the islander was already antsy keeping it to himself. Predicting how Jay was going to handle the news...that's what held Drake back. Fidgety fingers on his thighs, eyes glancing about as he conjured how to approach the subject. Either way Drake looked at it, no matter how delicate he was, telling Jay of the new and permanent design on his right wrist wasn't going to go over smoothly.
A steady breath was sucked in. "If I tell you...promise me you won't freak out?" Drake proposed, a slight bite of the lip occurring.
There was a pause that lingered as Jay gave his brother a suspicious eye. What would be so startling for him to have to swear he wouldn't act in an upset nature? "When you make someone promise something like that I think that entails a required freak-out," Jay frowned, unsure what to think.
"Well then, cut out a heavy dose of swearing and try not to yell," negotiated the islander.
If he was ordered to decline from cursing and raising the volume of his voice, then Jay assumed whatever was about to come next wasn't going to be easy to digest. Nonetheless, he bravely withstood the news. A watchful eye remained as Drake paused. Being blunt seemed like the best option rather than beating around the bush. Jay was already nettled by his aches and if he stalled for much longer, he wasn't sure how patient he was going to be. Drake supposed it was like ripping off a Band-Aid. A Band-Aid that revealed a very bold and impulsive piece of writing now permanently engraved on flesh.
Situating himself to fully look at him, Drake sucked in a calming breath. "Jay... You got a tattoo."
A blank stare was received. Then, eyebrows furrowed.
"A what?" the master gaped, his tone riding on flabbergasted with a sharp twinge.
Regardless, Drake kept a straight face. "A tattoo," he repeated. "On your right wrist."
"No, no, I heard you," Jay surprisingly said, blue eyes starting to grow wild with shock. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around why I'd do that."
A thoughtful look was given. "I think you know why."
Falling silent, Jay ruminated. Slowly he stretched his right arm out, and his fingers captured the end of his long jacket as he finally displayed the scar of the night's incidents. Exploding with astonishment and anger might have been his first reaction, though it appeared it was quickly numbed by a grim reality. It said her name. The name that had been haunting him all yesterday and into his state of REM sleep. Now, not only the thought of her but the indestructible mark of her existence could not be so easily forgotten during the moments he tried to escape reality. Jay could not fully escape the pain. And he had done it to himself. Willingly, by the hunger to have her by his side again.
For time to stand still in a period when everything they had was so delicately perfect, yet fragile between every shatter of silence.
"You couldn't stop me, could you?" the master at last said.
"I didn't want us to get into an accidental brawl," Drake confessed. "You were very persistent about it and I-"
"Don't. You don't need to explain yourself."
His mouth stayed open, though words could not be produced. Drake saw his brother harden, and while his thoughts had been spoke out-loud, the islander could tell he was internally pummeling himself for his actions, asking himself repeatedly why he did what he did. Why he had snapped...
Leaning forward, Drake laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Jay, don't worry about that." He wished his reassuring words would draw Jay's attention away from the tattoo, and it did, only for the master to pull the sleeve back down in a forceful tug. Still, Drake tried to remain calm and understanding. "Like I said, we can talk more later. Right now I need you to feel better and for me to go pick Misty up. She's been worried sick…not to mention, exceptionally peeved."
A part of his reassurance eased Jay to a point, muscles relaxing and his body shifting back down onto the bed. The mattress was so incredibly hard, and he reminded himself of such as his back made contact with the lumpy surface. "Just blame me," he waved, his normal tone returning. "But tell her not to yell at me till at least my headache has passed."
Observing Jay lounge, his eyes closing in hopes of ceasing his fierce headache, Drake saw a tiny smile emerge from Jay's lips. "Can do," he very faintly chuckled. And so, rising from the bed, Drake was about ready to head out, feeling he could end the immediate conversation.
But first, he informed his older brother of a couple things before exiting. "When you wake up I got some coffee and water here for you, but don't chug it all down," he cautioned, hoping Jay was listening behind closed eyes. "Just take sips and to see how you feel. And I got you some Aspirin, too. And don't take a shower, the hot water won't help-"
"I know, Mother Hen. And you said the shower's disgusting, anyway," Jay added sourly.
Apparently, from the agitation in his vocal cords, he was begrudgingly heeding to Drake's worries. "I'll be back in at least twenty minutes," he announced, now walking towards the front door. "Misty and I will come back and get you, and then I'll drive us to Cerulean as we originally planned."
He took charge of planning the day's itinerary and handled the night's unexpected twists and turns without a single complaint. Took care of both him and now Misty. Eyes opening, Jay saw his brother's back was turned to him, a hand firmly gripping the doorknob as it began to twist.
Abruptly, Jay sat up.
"Hey, Drake?"
The islander glanced over and waited.
A half-smile emerged from Jay's lips. "Thanks."
In return, Drake faintly smiled and left with a quiet click of the door shutting. Jay always knew he was lucky to have Drake as his little brother, and appreciated him all the more for his act of patience and kindness. Now he had saved his hide on two occasions, one year ago out on the very island of Pummelo and presently on the road to a hopefully brighter and better future. Jay wanted to fully thank his brother, and supposed he'd do so once he felt fully like himself. And when that horrific pounding in his head ceased or, at least, reduced itself. He also had to deal with Misty, feeling downright guilty for his mishap, yet dreading the skirmish with the fiery girl all the same...
Sighing, Jay's dry mouth indicated he needed something to drink, while his head cried for relief. His legs shook faintly as he propped his body up and maneuvered his shoes to land securely on the floor. From there, he rose with decent balance and discovered the glass of water, the mug of coffee, and the bottle of Aspirin sitting on the hideously outmoded and tattered nightstand. Extending his arm, Jay clutched the rattling bottle, cranking open the lid in one twist and pouring a full dosage in the palm of his open hand. Once screwing the lid back on, Jay placed the bottle down and popped the correct allotment into his mouth, his head leaning back as they flew inside. As if he had done this a dozen times like an old routine, Jay grasped the mug and took a swig of his black coffee to ease the medicine down. When the slightly chilled liquid hit the back of his throat, he realized how poor of a blend the common morning beverage was, a disgusted taste that he wished he could wash out. Though it didn't terminate the flavors dancing on his tongue, Jay took a sip of water afterwards, slowly wandering to the bathroom to somewhat diminish the grime of yesterday.
The need to wash his own face was dire, but after his brother's complaint of the towel's unappealing bristly exterior, Jay cleansed his skin with splashes of water in the palms of his hands. Leaning forward, back hunched with arms spread and hands clinging onto the each side of the worn sink, Jay stared into the smeared mirror. How in one night had he messed up so badly? How could he have so carelessly had too many drinks, and place Drake in an uncomfortable and difficult situation to remedy? And that dream...
His head swiveling over his shoulder, a distinct knock broke his silent thoughts at his reflection. Someone was at the door. He turned off the pathetic stream of clear liquid with a quick twist, walking towards the front door huffing. Drake probably forgot the keys to the car, Jay mused.
With one casual swing, the master opened the door and was unexpectedly confronted with not his fit younger brother, but what appeared to be a Bulbasaur sitting perfectly still on the cement. Jay cocked a peculiar eye at this, puzzled by its sudden appearance. The grass Pokémon looked real at first glimpse, but as Jay stared harder at it, noticing not a single movement was made, he could smell troubling brewing.
Tragically, however, he could not react fast enough. In the blink of an eye, the pastel green bulb on the creature's back spewed open, releasing a smog with a scent uncommon to the natural fumes a Bulbasaur would give off. Feet tried to move backwards and escape, but as the vapors traveled up Jay's nostrils, he was left paralyzed by the odor. Terror didn't have enough time to grapple his stunned mind, eyes fluttering instantly, his body powerless, and speech significantly slowing. Muscles relaxed tremendously, steps losing control as Jay began to sway.
And in those wobbly movements, he was only able to get a few words out. The discernible, that is.
"That's not a Bulbasaur..."
Collapsing in the entryway, Jay lost consciousness, lying as if he had fallen asleep right then and there. His head twisted to the side as a cheek lay against the metal-strip in the doorway, his hands sprawled forward and his breathing softening into steady rates. His eyes closed. For once, Jay was fully vulnerable.
As the bulb closed shut, almost in a rigid, robotic movement, two pairs of feet prowled around each side of the door, shadows being cast on the soon to be blazing hot cement. Sharp, devious eyes fell upon a helpless Jay. Then, an exchange of devilish, toothy smiles and faint snickers fell from clenched teeth.
Finally, they had him.
Morning in Pallet came with every expected greeting of the Pokémons' cries to the shining rays. The light renewing the life below with energy by its powerful bright casts of gold.
Ash was, to no one's shock, the last one to emerge downstairs. Taking his sweet time getting dressed, he and Pikachu happily plopped down at the table to savor a breakfast made by Brock. Delia was bustling outside, taking in the scent only mornings could bring while she watered her garden before work. Ash and Brock informed Delia of the meal's completion, but she insisted they go on and eat without her, seeing as she still had to go back upstairs and change for work. So after feeding Pikachu and the mouse felt inclined to jump up on the table and quietly beg Ash for more, as the two young men sat at the table. Brock indulging in a fried egg, a small wedge of watermelon, and an English muffin, while Ash splurged on his friend's famous scrambled hash filled with fluffy eggs, bacon, potatoes, onions, peppers, and tomatoes. Which Ash would occasionally sneak a potato over to his furry companion.
Halfway through the meal, they discussed lighthearted subjects ranging from how their Pokémon were faring to the blooming vegetable garden of Delia's they couldn't help but admire. Brock thinking about all the recipes he could make with the fresh organic veggies, and Ash dreaming about diving into every delicious bite... All was fairly casual until Brock cut another juicy thin slice out of his crisp egg, recalling something Delia had mentioned earlier. Something that Ash was apparently all twitterpated to tell him about, and she didn't want to spoil the surprise for her son...
Stopping midway through a slit of his egg, fork and knife resting in his grasp, Brock threw his gaze up at Ash. "So, uh, your mom mentioned some big news you might want to tell me," began the doctor-in-training, now continuing to sever his last fried egg. "That is, if you hadn't already. But I didn't think you did," he added between a full chew.
More like that morning, Delia had asked Brock if he had heard the big news, and when he gave her a clueless look in return she hypothesized Ash neglected to enlighten his friend. Though with how persistent Brock was onto Dani, Ash could hardly get a word in all afternoon and into the evening.
"Big news?" Ash blinked, staring blankly as Pikachu snagged a potato off his plate. He was trying to recall if there were any life-changing events and uncovered none, until his mind fully rebooted for the day, reminding him of the little surprise Delia revealed once they settled their minor dispute a week ago.
A sudden smile grew from his lips. "Oh, that's right! Hold on!"
With newfound excitement, Ash bounced from his chair and raced into the living room. Brock stayed seated and innocently unaware of what this "news" was. Sooner than later, Ash emerged back into the kitchen, accidentally flashing the magazine cover and, in turn, attempted to stealthily hide it behind his back again.
His grin grew wider as he stood by Brock. "Ya wanna guess?" asked Ash.
"I can see you're holding a Pokémon magazine, so it's gotta be something good," the older trainer said, all the more thrilled to hear the new development.
"It definitely is! See for yourself."
Pulling the magazine out behind his less than clever hiding spot, Ash swiftly flipped through the pages and landed on the one he had wished to share. He had stared at and read the article countless times, practically memorizing the page numbers, too. However, for Brock, what he read right in front of him, the thing that had pushed his breakfast aside...the declaration wasn't nearly as fantastic as Ash perceived it to be. At least, under certain circumstances for Brock. On any other given day, he'd be just as electrified, anxious to read every page and flood Ash with a handful of questions. But now, given he already knew who the master was and how, ironically, the skilled trainer was so personally connected to Ash...
"W-wow," was all Brock managed to croak out, and a tremulous one to boot as he gawked at the bold headline.
But Ash didn't pick up on it. "Can you believe that, Brock?" he said incredulously. "We're gonna have a new Pokémon Master!"
"Wow, this is...something," he spat out, eyes wide, hardly knowing if he should look to Ash or the magazine slapped in front of him. He swallowed, regaining his shaken composure. "I had...no idea."
"I don't think any of us saw this coming! Amazing, right?" Ash continued with passionate enthusiasm, the shock evidently still wearing off on him. "They said there hasn't been one in over fifty years, and the announcement is going to take place here in Kanto at the Indigo Plateau! What could get better than that?"
A lot of things. One, for Brock not to be caught in the middle of this highly uncomfortable situation.
Squirming, he tried to collect himself. Though as he felt his lips move upward, the smile was so painfully forceful. "Yeah, it's um- pretty amazing. Really amazing that you know," he mumbled, turning away with a harsh bite to the lip.
So this was the extravagant revelation Delia mentioned? Wait. Both Ash and Delia knew? At that instant, Brock cursed mentally. This wasn't good. If the press had already released the announcement of a new master, then they were bound to also publish his name, age, birthday, hometown, and family if they wished to go to the extreme. And with that in mind, what would Ash and Delia think? How would they react? Anger, sadness? Jay had assured him and Misty that the proclamation wouldn't be exploited until he was safely located at the league hall, and all agreed it was best for his family to hear this news from Jay's mouth alone. However, that wasn't exactly convenient or practical at the present time.
Brock felt his cheeks flush. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.
Still caught up in his glowing rapture, Ash didn't take notice of Brock's avoidance of eye-contact nor his nibbling of fingernails. It wasn't until he rose from his seat and picked up his half-finished dishes that Ash observed his hurried movements.
"Uh, you know what Ash?" he started slowly, his plate and silverware rattling as he settled them on the kitchen counter. "I just remembered something. I gotta- I gotta head to Prof. Oak's this morning."
"I'll go with ya, Brock."
Of course he smiled, and of course he didn't think anything of Brock's actions. He acknowledged his friend was done eating, but didn't think as to why Brock had become so hurried to scurry to the next agenda on his list for the day. Brock admitted he was somewhat subtle about it, but he was still surprised Ash hadn't said something. Evidently, though they hadn't traveled together in a couple of years, Ash still bore an innocent ignorance about him.
Brock waved, now trying to go about it differently. "It's okay. You don't have to tag along," he assured, as if meandering to the famous Oak Lab was going to be an absolute humdrum outing. "I doubt you'll be interested. I've been keeping in touch with him on occasion, and when I told him I was coming to Pallet he just uh- wanted to show me a um...documentary. Yeah, a documentary!" he repeated in a more buoyant voice. "About the- medical advancements we have made for Pokémon. He thought it would be great knowledge to acquire for my...studies. And I wouldn't want to bore you with medicine distributors and the science behind surgical tools."
If Brock predicted correctly, he would presume the words "medicine distributors" and "surgical tools" would send Ash into a snore-fest. He felt so confident about this, that he took a bite of his unfinished breakfast. To his disappointment, however, educational videos and discussion on something deeper than current battle stats and levels didn't appear to steer Ash away from learning something new.
"Nah, I wouldn't be bored," he shrugged, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. "Sounds kinda neat, and I think it'd be cool to learn more about what you're interested in. Besides, Prof. Oak's been doing some research on Ho-Oh and he told me he'd let me know what he's found so far."
Instantaneously, as if receiving grave news, Brock froze stiff and, in the process, nearly choked on the piece of English muffin resting in his throat. Ash's oblivious nature wasn't helping one bit, and now knowing that he not only knew of a new Pokémon Master but also of Prof. Oak's present investigation...how could things get any worse?
A creaking sound surfaced from the living room, then ended with a subtle thud.
"Ho-Oh?" Delia interrupted, rounding around the corner with a handful of picked dahlias. "Is that some kind of Pokémon?"
While entering the house, she had overheard the last part of their conversation and was now harmlessly inviting herself into the mix. Brock wouldn't mind on any other occasion, but at a time like this- he was in a real pinch!
"Yeah, Mom," Ash said, rolling his eyes with a slip of a huff. "It's a legendary Pokémon. And Prof. Oak's researching it." He never expected his mother to be just as enthralled with Pokémon as he was. But Delia did take a course from Prof. Oak in her high school years, which Ash assumed she'd retain some information from the educational lectures. Then again, Ash doubted legendaries and their origins were discussed readily in a class based mostly on battling and comprehending the complexity of average Pokémon. Plus, Ash was sure his mother wasn't just taking the class solely to better understand her grass Pokémon. Well, at least those were her intentions in the beginning, before she met him...
"Really?" inquired Delia, grabbing the empty turquoise vase she had set out earlier on the table. "Well, that sounds interesting. But Ash, if Prof. Oak is working, then I'm sure he's very busy. And remember what we talked about? What you were going to do today?" admonished the mother, giving her son a watchful eye as she walked over to the sink.
Without the need to ponder, the teenager understood his mother's implied wishes. On the contrary, Ash did not want to submit to the order. On his to-do list, Ash didn't consider confronting a most likely uncooperative and smug Gary with a bitter apology to top off the riveting activity he desperately wanted to settle. Avoiding the topic altogether sounded like a grand idea; nonetheless, Ash knew better than to do such.
"Oh, yeah," he blinked. His short pause ended, however, flashing pleading chocolate eyes up at Delia with desperation. "But Mom, this would only take a few minutes. This is kind of important to me. I really, really want to know what Prof. Oak has found out. He could be discovering something brand new no one else has ever uncovered!-"
"And, that's perfectly fine," cut in Delia once more. "But again, Ash, I want you to take care of that thing we talked about earlier before anything else. It's been over a week, and I think it's for the best for you to confront it and move on," she went on advising, the vase she held filled with a plentiful level of water. From there, she ignored Ash's distinct moan of retaliation, turned off the rushing water, and meticulously arranged the bright colorful dahlias on the table.
Out of obstinate tendencies, Ash plastered a frown across his face. Though he found its existence no use, for once Delia appeared satisfied with her bouquet of homegrown flowers she pranced by and gave him a soft side-hug for encouragement. "Now please, be the bigger person and handle the situation like the mature young man I know you are."
Torn, Ash ultimately replied with a faint nod of his head, earning a bright smile from Delia and a quick kiss on his head. He grimaced a little at the touch, due to Brock's presence and the heat he could feel burn on his cheeks. Usually, he didn't mind his mom's motherly acts of affection, but she didn't have to kiss him in front of his older friend, especially after giving him a life lesson on handling difficult circumstances.
"I'll see you when I get home this evening," Delia said sweetly, rubbing his shoulder briefly. "You boys have a good day!"
And with that, she journeyed into the living and to the stairs so she could change for work. Unable to break completely from his embittered state, Ash protested with another classic moan.
"But Mom-"
"No buts!" she yelled up the stairs.
If Delia hadn't said her rebuttal so nicely in her naturally pleasant voice, Ash would have been twice as annoyed and stubborn about the problem as he already was. Groaning, with no choice but to surrender to the argument, his fingers ran over his face. Then he hopelessly looked to Brock, who was still in the dark regarding the whole motherly lecture Delia believed had enough importance to address.
"Be the bigger person?" echoed Brock, cocking an eyebrow.
"Gary," Ash replied bitterly, slumping back into his chair. Then, he rested his cheek glumly in the palm of his hand and he leaned an elbow on the tabletop.
Having enough awareness of Ash and Gary's squabbles, Brock didn't bother pressing what brought about the supposed fight and why his friend had to go to great lengths to apologize to Gary. While he didn't know a scant amount of dirt on the situation, Brock doubted Gary rightfully deserved an apology. More likely, he figured Delia was setting her son on the right course of forgiving and holding himself accountable for his end of the drama.
"Ah," he said, recognizing the familiar tone of disgust Ash had used countless times with his old rival. Standing awkwardly, Brock twisted his mouth, unsure of where to go from there. Eventually, he adjusted his throat. "So uh, do you?-"
"Go on ahead to the lab. I'll deal with Gary," Ash decided with the seeping of another huff. Going to face a mild fear of his... Ash surely didn't want to, yet the constant ringing of his mom's pensive words in his head reminded him of the necessity of how to properly handle dilemmas like this. God help him, though, if Gary dared to pull another stunt similar to his previous heinous act.
Hesitantly, Ash gleamed up at Brock, only to break into a very weak smile. "But could you at least ask Prof. Oak if he's got any new leads for me?" he nearly begged, believing he warranted that much if he had to go have a less than endearing conversation with Gary.
Brock nodded and smiled. "Sure thing, Ash."
It was the least he could do, given Ash had to take on a task he'd rather shy away from. The only problem was...how much information could Brock really share on the majestic phoenix?
"I'm so sorry, Misty. I can't say that enough."
Drake had asked for pardon at least ten times, in between helping Misty carry out their entire luggage and driving them back to the motel. When he originally drove up to the Pokémon Center, he discovered Misty standing outside the front entrance, arms full of bags and brows ever so noticeably furrowed. Vexation could not even begin to describe Misty's current state, giving the islander a mild earful elucidating her worries, and because they were so frightening and dramatic, had nearly kept her up most of the night. Drake heard her out without objection, and even if he wished to silence Misty, he could not, seeing there was no stopping a fervent girl who wasn't afraid of speaking her mind. Scrutiny of her actions could not be permitted either, so Drake- after a few sad attempts of calmly explaining- allowed Misty to vent to her capacity until she was run dry of fury. Drake could see this was simply her way of expressing a level of care and genuine concern for his and Jay's whereabouts and states. The incidents and how she was left in the dark so late into the night were what truly angered her, not the men themselves.
Even if it didn't come across that way at first glimpse.
It seemed that once Misty had a chance to unleash all her built-up tension, Drake and she were able to squeeze the last bit of luggage in the trunk of the car and swerve off to the motel. On the way, he at last earned the opportunity to explain to the gym leader the night's ongoing dramas, sympathy and understanding starting to stir within Misty's eyes and heart.
Nonetheless, she was still a tad disconcerted.
Misty stared out the window on her side, watching buildings and people walking about pass by as they drove along. Eventually, she sighed. "I know," she mumbled. She had seen the gleam in Jay's eyes earlier yesterday, witnessing the grieving of the relationship he originally had with his wife. And how he once was able to spend most days with her in utter peace and loving security.
The redhead soon breathed out another sigh, having compassion for Ash's father, yet frustration and astonishment still boiling inside of her. "It's just- how could you let him get so drunk?" she boldly questioned, the baffling tone evident in her vocal cords.
It was Drake's turn to sigh. "I wish I knew. Honestly, Misty, the night was a big blur to me and still is. Jay was really in a dark place. He wasn't acting like himself." Acknowledging such sent Drake into another plunge of guilt, his head dipping as he shamefully watched the road. "It was a bad idea for me to take him out. This is all my fault."
"No, no, Drake," Misty insisted immediately, soft sea-green eyes beaming towards him. She had no intentions of putting Drake on a guilt-trip, though she herself had every right to be livid and scared after tossing and turning all night. "It wasn't your fault. You were just trying to do something nice for your brother. It's understandable. Besides, you didn't make him drink himself to death."
"Yeah, but I allowed it," contradicted the islander. "I just hate confrontation, and Jay was so... Well, never mind," he speedily dismissed, shaking his head. Silence filtered the air as a few seconds passed by, Misty returning her gaze to the side window while Drake went on paying attention to the road.
Shortly after, he felt the need to brighten their drive over to the motel, looking to Misty with a growing grin. "Hey," he started, earning her focus, "if it makes you feel any better, Jay's beating himself up for it. And he said you can yell at him once his headache is gone."
A faint chuckle leaped from her throat. "It does a little..." That lighthearted thought was strong enough to lift the corners of Misty's mouth, her mind unwinding and eagerness rising to head to the motel and give Jay a good dose of his own medicine.
They were drawing awfully close by this time. Drake just barely beginning to turn into the parking lot, watching the sharp angle he made, while Misty's eyes were fixated on something else entirely. Nose scrunched, brows lowered, and eyes squinted as she leaned close to the side window, she was drawn to a peculiar pair of figures. They were dressed in average clothing, yet something foreboding pounded in Misty's heart. Their hair, height, body type, and the most bizarre part being they were struggling to carry what looked like a sleeping Nidoking... Then again, though the distance was a little far, it was unclear if the creature was snoozing, for it hung so limply, and the texture of the supposed skin could not fully convince Misty it was real. More than anything, it resembled something closer to fabric...
Suddenly, a flash of a male with a familiar haircut and green locks looked up, wincing with clenched teeth as they moved in tiny wobbly steps across the sidewalk. Immediately, this provoked a deeper rise in suspicion, Misty's heart beating uncontrollably. Red eyebrows narrowed as she gleamed harder, closer. "Is that?..." Without a second to spare a shrill gasp shot up her throat, staring at the scene of a golden haired woman yelling at the man as the Pokémon lifelessly swayed in their arms. They were drawing close to a car. One of the middle seats' doors already open. It could only mean one thing-
Confirming their identities out of arrant intuition, Misty was certain that what they were lugging was not a Pokémon.
"Oh, my gosh!" the redhead shrieked, eyes wide and panicked. "O-oh, my God! Drake, they have him!" she proclaimed in sheer fright, gripping and shaking his toned arm.
Drake's head swiveled, eyes alarmed, as he looked to her in confusion. "What?!"
"They have Mr. Ketchum!" exclaimed Misty, her index finger pointing outside the window to the only remotely familiar figures struggling to carry what appeared to be a Nidoking. "See! It's Cassidy and Botch!"
Slamming the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, Drake sped up and swerved hurriedly into the parking lot. "Shit!" he cursed under his breath.
The loud screech into the near empty lot didn't appear to alarm the two moving figures. If anything, the pair, who was now confirmed Team Rocket agents, had become impatient and restless due to the body they were carting by their own pure strength. Footsteps ended in an abrupt stop, Butch looking off into the distance. An inkling ringing in his ears and into his head distracted him from completing the job proficiently and fast.
"I have the eerie feeling someone got my name wrong," the grunt proclaimed, suspicious eyelids puckering with a hiss. "Again-"
"Uggh, pay attention, Buffy!" groaned Cassidy, dismissing his strange insistence. "Just get him in the car already!" The weight of their captive was starting to quake under her lean arms, and she didn't plan on hauling a fully grown, fit man back to their car while Butch was in the midst of pondering over a delusion.
"The name is Butch!" he snapped with a show of teeth. "And I'm tryin', I'm tryin'!"
In small but speedier steps, the two agents hustled and were able to maneuver to the car, heaving their abductee in one swing, and soon he crashed into the back seat. They were so much in a rush that neither Cassidy nor Butch bothered to lock the door with security, slamming it closed with the tip of the tail of the Nidoking costume sticking out.
"There!" Cassidy exclaimed, rounding the car. "Let's go!" In unison, the grunts jumped into both sides of the car, Butch seating himself in the driver's seat while Cassidy landed in the front passenger side. Neither one went to the trouble of safely buckling themselves in before starting up the engine, already in the midst of scurrying out with a full tank of gas.
It felt, as Misty and Drake gawked at the moving vehicle, that while they were cruising at a faster pace than before, the car they were after was slipping away right before their eyes with no chance of catching the criminals in the act.
"They're getting away!" cried Misty.
A clenching of teeth ensued, Drake's blue eyes darkening as he saw the grunts' car turn and travel into traffic with Jay in tow without a single scuffle. This couldn't be it. They couldn't get away. After staying at that abhorrent and frankly terrifying bed and breakfast; after Drake had participated in vanquishing Team Rocket's destruction of the festival; after he had survived the most chaotic car chase; after everything he had gone through the previous night, being there for his brother in his drunken breakdown... It had only been a few weeks, but in those few weeks, Drake had awakened a quiet, tenacious side that was direly calling to be unleashed. Cassidy and Butch weren't going to drive off in celebratory victory, Jay being the trophy they would so giddily hand over to their demented crime boss.
Not on Drake's watch.
The car's engine thundered as Drake veered. "No, they're not."
"I'm takin' off, Grandpa."
"So soon?"
If only Gary could stay longer. He knew he couldn't, though, seeing he had a much more crucial matter to attend to than tinkering with his grandfather in his lab. The embarrassing incident at the inn had led to a quarrel between him and Harper, followed up with her promptly leaving Pallet and refusing to answer Gary's texts. Frustration consumed him as he stood by and allowed her to zoom away in her car back to Viridian. He had apologized several times, but even he knew it wasn't enough to salvage their relationship. Harper had stolen a piece of Gary's heart (whether he could admit it or not) and he hated himself to see them cease talking on dreadful circumstances. If only she could understand where he was coming from, if only he himself could fathom how their dining experience took a serious turn for the worst...
All he wanted to do was blame Ash.
His grin, his naturally charismatic attitude that made others feel comfortable around him without him realizing he was bringing about this wonderful effect, annoyed Gary from the start. When Harper returned from the store that late evening, he endured her harmless gushing about how sweet of a guy Ash was and how, in a joking manner, he rivaled Gary's good looks. With calmness, Gary tried to remind himself his girlfriend had an innate tendency to see the positive in others, but the way her eyes lit up, how her giggle intensified, and how relaxed she felt when speaking to Ash... It wasn't fair. Misinterpreting his emotions or not, Gary's heart burned with inadequacy and he felt infuriated. Harper was his girlfriend; Ash didn't even have experience in a relationship! He was still on his Pokémon kick, which Gary thought would end with him being an old hermit out the woods, endlessly searching for answers about the mysterious creatures that he was unlikely to catch or see...
Like an unbreakable bad habit, Gary pulled his classic childish antics, only for it to backfire in his face. He had no idea what he was thinking, now seeing the hideous repercussions tumble down upon him. He had received sympathy from his parents over the burger ordeal, though a vexed Annie ordered him to apologize to Ash after hearing about the comments from Michelle. Gary knew it was inevitable, but he detested the fact that the chef at the inn had to rat him out when his mother came by to give Leah a layout of how she'd designed the dining area for the upcoming bash. And to add to the already aggravating punishment, Annie was also so extremely disappointed in her son's behavior that she insisted Sam withhold Gary's lab equipment, and to leave a remnant of an Omanyte fossil he was working on untouched for the next few weeks.
Gary admitted he had royally screwed himself over. Regardless, he believed he deserved an apology from Ash, which he doubted he'd receive anyway. Resentfully, he decided he would make an attempt to appease his parents' wishes, and to hopefully earn Harper's company back before she confirmed their relationship was down the drain. Which entailed explaining why he had said the hurtful things he did, shaming himself in the back of his mind yet wanting to incriminate Ash for his profound humiliation... Most importantly, though, Gary did not want to lose Harper, did not want this negative side of himself to overshadow the shining qualities he bore. Even if that meant he had to stomach his over-inflated pride and ego and genuinely seek Ash out and make amends.
Nodding, Gary refused to show the anxiety in his eyes. "Yeah," he answered. "I've got somethin' to take care of."
"Well, all right," replied the professor. Sam had a hunch as to what his grandson was up to, but didn't pry, seeing he did not want to be caught in the middle of the teenagers' altercation. He had played referee a number of times between the boys. Plus, Sam had enough worries and conflict on his hands to concern himself with.
Carrying on in a pleasant manner, the professor walked Gary to the door. "Thank you for helping me get that splinter out of Arcanine's paw," he said, gesturing to the pokeball in his grandson's hand. "That sure was a thick, bothersome thorn for him. Nasty little thing indeed!"
So stuck and sharp, poor Arcanine whimpered horribly and intense growls seeped from his mouth as Tracey held him down. This brought about Gary's interference, Prof. Oak believing his master's presence would sooth and ease the dog to trust them just enough to pull the sucker out. In the end, they were all glad to see Arcanine was relieved of the nettlesome pain, and to baby him a little over the injury, Gary decided to take him home and give the dog some one-on-one attention while tending to the healing wound.
"Yeah, it was," agreed Gary, bouncing the sphere in his hand and then snatching it in a tight grip. His eyes focused solely on his fist. "He must have gotten that in his foot from a rotten piece of bark."
"Probably. I know he has a tendency of chasing some of the other Pokémon up the trees," noted Sam, sighing a little at the reminder. "Let me know how the ointment works." Arcanine was a beautiful and spirited specimen of a giant, dog-like creature, though the professor wished he could somehow break the canine's habit of chasing those pesky Mankey that pelted him with pebbles. Or maybe he needed to think of a solution to stop the Mankey's troublesome antics.
Finally reaching the front door of the lab, Gary smiled at his grandpa and gave a short wave. "'Kay, I will. See ya later."
"See you this evening!" Sam replied, waving in return and closing the door as Gary exited.
Eyes stayed centered on the pokeball resting in his hold, Gary was alleviated of his stress in taking one of his most loyal companions home and to help ease his dog's anxiety through rigorous brushing and playful stomach rubs. A smile inched up as he walked down the long stairs, until the cast of a sudden outline stole Gary's train of thought. Shooting his gaze up, he uncovered the silhouette belonged to Brock, someone Gary least expected. What was he doing here in Pallet? Gary hadn't seen Brock for a good couple of years, and didn't recall overhearing Ash gab about his old friend's return. Last time Gary checked, Brock was off in another region, training to be a Pokémon doctor in some specific field.
And why was he heading to the lab alone? Without Ash?
"Hey," Gary greeted flatly, their eyes locked as they stood frozen on different steps. Brock, one step high and Gary, one step lower.
Brock clenched the straps of his backpack, appearing rather surprised that he obtained a semi-friendly hello. "Uh, hey Gary," he replied, the implied astonishment apparent in his voice.
There wasn't much effort after that, Gary tearing his gaze away, minimizing the pokeball, and shoving his hands into his jean pockets as he continued his climb down. Brock's eyes followed the movement of the trainer, observing him for a few seconds before proceeding to his own destination. It shouldn't have been a huge shock that Gary was at his grandfather's lab, but Brock figured the distant acknowledgement was a feat in itself. One could deduce Gary acted poorly in the company of Ash, but being a friend of his, Brock figured he'd be hit with some kind of cold shoulder he didn't warrant.
Not pondering for too long on Gary's plain salutation, Brock bounded up the staircase and, finding the door to be open, wandered into the massive laboratory. He had called Prof. Oak earlier, informing him of his coming over, and Sam was more than eager to have the young man drop by.
"Professor?" the doctor-in-training called, aimlessly strolling in. "It's me, Brock-"
"Ah, Brock! So glad to see you." Entering into the living part of the building was Prof. Oak, inviting the young man in with a coaxing hand to follow. He, however, suddenly stopped in his tracks and spun around. Aging eyes glanced around, his voice lowering as a worried expression took over his face. "Uh, Ash isn't with you, is he?" he asked meekly.
Hurriedly, Brock caught on to the professor's concern. "Oh, no," he waved. "Ash is at home."
A smile of relief sprouted. "Perfect. Would you like something to eat? Tracey makes a mean Eggs Benedict!"
Clearly, Tracey took advantage of the recipe cards Brock had left for him on a separate occasion years ago, after the young Pokémon watcher mentioned he wanted to take a swing at whipping up homemade meals.
Chortling, Brock shook his head. "That's okay, I'm fine."
"How about something to drink then?" proposed Sam.
"Iced tea would be good, if you have any."
"I have plenty." Twirling, Prof. Oak shifted his gaze to the entrance to the kitchen. "Tracey, Brock's here! And I need two iced teas, please!"
"Got it!" Tracey hollered somewhere off in the kitchen. What sounded like rushing water and clattering glasses resonated from Tracey's proximity, making Brock assume he was busy cleaning up the cooking area.
From there, Prof. Oak motioned for Brock to follow, leading them down a hall and to their destination for discussion. "We'll meet you in the research lab!" Sam went on informing for Tracey to overhear. "For our discussion!"
"Okay! I'll be there soon!" he yelled back again in a chipper tone.
It wasn't long before Sam guided Brock to the spacious research center on the upper level. All appeared to be the same as Brock last recalled, and he felt a rapid hominess as the memorable establishment evoked past times. How he, Ash, and Misty would hurry over to the wondrous lab, visit, and catch up until they were sent off on another journey full of anticipation, excitement, and mystery.
Once climbing down the last step, the pair landed on the lower floor of the room. Prof. Oak then gestured for them to lounge on the one couch, colored in a faded orange hue. There was just enough capacity for the two of them, sitting in silence as they waited for Tracey to appear. A burst of curiosity soared in Brock's brain, wondering why Sam had chosen for them to converse in this specific spot. Wouldn't it had made more sense to talk in the living room or perhaps even the study full of books for the professor to reference off if need be? Perhaps the older man wanted to guarantee the most privacy possible, in case a visitor dropped by unannounced.
While waiting, they chatted casually. Sam asking how he was fairing with everything and that he had informed Tracey so all were in the loop lending a helping hand. Now thinking about it, Brock realized how tired he was from the long haul on the boat. He was still shaking off the shock of meeting Ash's father and comprehending the jaw-dropping danger he had been in all these years. And now, Brock himself was playing a part in it all. A part in destroying Team Rocket's dastardly plans.
In a fair amount of time, Tracey arrived, balancing a tray of three teas full of glossy chunks of ice. After handing the drinks over to the professor and Brock, Sam requested he made sure the door was shut, which Tracey assured. Once all were settled, Tracey pulled up a chair, the one he tended to use when he and Prof. Oak were working. He then sat across from the two men opposite of him.
"Now," Sam finally started, clearing his throat. "Jayce tells me you have the feather?"
Brock nodded after taking a slurp. "Uh, yeah. I've got it right here." Setting his beverage down on the floor, he grabbed his backpack, and with careful fingers unzipped a large pocket inside.
"Excellent. He also informed me he'd like me to be in possession of it, seeing he didn't want you in any more danger," Prof. Oak carried on.
"I appreciate that," the trainer laughed dryly.
"Plus, I can finally study it closely!" the professor sweat-dropped in return, though his mild chuckles dissipated as Brock at last pulled out the stunning specimen.
All eyes fell upon the sparkling feather, its delicate state resting in the open palm of Brock. No one could look away. There it was. They had it. As far as the trio knew, their cluster of allies were the only ones in present time who were in possession of a feather from one of the most mystical and baffling legendaries to date. Hardly any humans could claim they were witnesses to Ho-Oh's brilliant existence, much less hold one of the very quills from the god-like creature.
"Arceus almighty," breathed Sam, eyes and focus completely stolen by the rare find. He had seen the feather, touched the feather on plenty of occasions. And yet, every instance Jay revealed it before his very eyes the professor was always left flabbergasted and stupefied. All the colors of the rainbow mingling together in one breathtaking shimmer... The sight was indescribable.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" commented Brock, smiling a little at the sight of their awe.
"It's amazing!" exclaimed Tracey, leaning in. When he heard Prof. Oak mention that Jay had the feather of Ho-Oh, he thought he'd faint just by the lightness and dizziness swirling in his head. As a Pokémon watcher and an admirer of the striking creatures, this day marked a special one for Tracey. To be one of the very few to actually see such an elegant feather in perfect condition- as if it had fallen from Ho-Oh's wing just that day...
"Both indeed," soon agreed the professor. An offering hand extended its length to Sam, and so he graciously took the feather from Brock's hold. The tips teased his open hand, and his fingers ran across the texture, showcasing each individual shade of vibrant color. "It's been years since I've seen this again," he remarked. "But you know, it doesn't glimmer as much as one would expect."
Brock's gaze shifted. "I know. When I held it on the ride over, it didn't seem to shimmer as much as when Mr. Ketchum had it."
"This could mean something..." What Prof. Oak muttered was intriguing, and both Brock and Tracey were curious as to what the older man was thinking. His fixated stare, his quiet demeanor was, however, gone, as a pair of serious eyes flashed their way back up. "When was the last time you spoke to Jayce and the others?"
"This morning," replied Brock. "Misty informed me that she was all alone at the Pokémon Center last night."
Shock consumed Sam's facial expression. "What? Why on earth was that the case?"
The details were the least bit enjoyable to repeat, and Brock himself found no merriment in receiving Misty's distressed and terrified call. And he also saw no pleasure in having to reiterate the events of the previous night to a clearly perplexed and slightly vexed Prof. Oak. Clearing his throat, Brock proceeded. "Because Mr. Ketchum, well- he um..." He bit his lip, struggling with his words while eyes intensely looked for him to spit it out. He swallowed. "He got kinda...drunk. You know, because of the whole- anniversary ordeal," the trainer hurriedly elucidated. "But Drake took care of it! He took him to a motel and called Misty to let her know. She told me he was coming to pick her up, and then they'd be on their way to Cerulean."
"Are you serious?" gaped Tracey. He didn't know Mr. Ketchum personally. Heck, he didn't even know the guy on as intimate a level as Misty and Brock did. But what the artist did observe from the mysterious Jayce Ketchum was not that of irresponsible nature!
An unreadable expression claimed Sam's face, his chin resting in his hand as he stared thoughtfully. He had feared this would happen.
"A wounded heart is bound to do anything to cope," opined the professor. "I suppose this shouldn't be such a big surprise but...Jayce must be severely hurting," he eventually proclaimed. "All the more reason for us to move and think fast. We need to find the appropriate opportunity for you and me to inform Delia and Ash of Jayce's whereabouts. If they are just heading to Cerulean then we cannot tell them yet. Jayce and the others must be safe before we tell anyone else."
"Then when should we tell them?" chimed in Tracey. After living with Prof. Oak for a fair amount of years, the Pokémon watcher could easily read his body language and tone. Obviously, Brock's unpredictable news brought upon deep concern regarding Jay's state, which left all unsure of what to think.
"When they get to the Indigo Plateau," Prof. Oak answered. "I know it's quite a ways away, but I'd rather be safe than in a hurry to jump the gun."
So the original plan was still intact. There were no complaints coming from Brock, considering he was one of the two who had to be the bearer of bad news. Horrible, devastating, and mind-boggling news he'd have to share with one of his closest friends and mother... He still felt hesitant in approaching the topic, but the direness of Mr. Ketchum's whereabouts and the Ketchum family's overall safety was vital. Brock just wished there was a simpler solution to disclose a complicated truth that would, without doubt, be responded to with bafflement and dicey repercussions...
None in which Brock was ready to take on.
Back outside the lab still stood Gary, though he was now in a flustered state, feeling foolish over his minor absentmindedness. In between chatting with his grandfather and retrieving Arcanine's pokeball, the trainer had forgotten to grab the ointment Sam had pulled out of the Pokémon medicine cabinet and laid on the coffee table for him to take home. He confirmed such by realizing the ointment wasn't in his other hand. How could he be so forgetful? The plan of "apologizing" to Ash and hopefully winning Harper back into his arms clouded his attention. And Gary was eager to accomplish such...but rubbing on his dog's mandatory method of healing was just as important as clearing the air with his girlfriend.
Swifts heels turned around and dashed up the winding staircase once again, and then with a swing of the door Gary entered back into the lab. Silence. There was no one in sight. A frown morphed as Gary wandered inside, closing the door behind him.
"Grandpa?" he called out, glancing about. "Hey, I forgot the ointment." No response. "Grandpa? Wonder where everyone is..."
He had hardly left ten minutes ago, and now the entrance to his grandpa's home was abandoned? He checked the kitchen first, but found no sign of Prof. Oak, Tracey, or even Brock. Brock...why was he there, anyway? His pondering thoughts speedily trailed away as they came, stolen by the murmuring of voices from up above. Gary's eyes lingered upward, his head rising as brows narrowed.
They were in the research corridors.
At first, the question of why fluttered into his head, but was cut short as he saw he hadn't even touched the ointment on the coffee table. Which ironically was not the correct form of treatment, and was instead a cream for a Cloyster's shell, to strengthen its form of protection. Sighing after realizing the detriment this water-type cream could have caused Arcanine, Gary clasped the bottle in his hand. He didn't have time for this. Speaking to Ash was an unsavory experience Gary wanted to get out of the way, and from there, attend to his rightfully upset girlfriend. If she'd even answer his calls or text at this rate...
Adamant to skedaddle out of the laboratory, Gary traveled up the staircase and to the room in which he heard his grandfather's voice echo. All he needed was to politely notify Prof. Oak of the accidental remedy and hopefully not take up too much of the wise man's time, or Gary's for that matter. Bouncing off the last step to the top floor, his hand gripped the doorknob like any other, ready to burst it open with a gust of air hitting his face from the swing. But as he twisted the knob and pulled it back, the sound of Brock's oddly perturbed voice sent a strange signal to Gary's brain.
Retracting the opening just slightly, Gary peeked in.
"So what do we do until then?"
"I propose we tell Ash and Delia after the celebration at the inn," Gary overheard his grandpa declare, his voice bouncing off the large walls. "There will be no distractions, and if all goes accordingly, I can try to see if Jayce can be at the Indigo League by then."
Jayce? As in, Ash's estranged father? The beating of the trainer's heart rose considerably, his head feeling hazy as he tried to process the words he heard fall from his grandfather's mouth. Frozen, Gary pondered if he had gathered the wrong assumption; however, Prof. Oak's voice was so clear and distinct there was no logical cause to become skeptical.
All the more intrigued, Gary eavesdropped with a sharper ear, now picking up on another familiar voice.
"But do you think he and the others can get there fast enough it just a couple of weeks, professor? They're still in Saffron, and the league is a long ways away."
A faint gasp leaped from an agape mouth. Tracey's in on this, too? Grandpa... What the hell is going on?
"They might have to," continued the professor, unaware of the spy creeping above the balcony. "We can't keep stalling this. If Jayce wants Ash and Delia to be safe and for his efforts in stopping Team Rocket to come with a reward...then we have no choice. It's the only way to get Jayce back home. To tell his family the truth after all these years. I myself have been a little hesitant about this plan. But now... I can see there is no other option."
After all these years... No other option? Tremulous fingers lunged for the door, hastily pulling it shut before someone discovered his unwanted presence. What felt like an explosion of shock soared throughout Gary's body, his stance dwindling as he slid down onto the floor. His frame leaned against the wooden structure, running a hand through his spiky brunette locks. Was this a dream? Had he really uncovered the reasoning behind Jay's disappearance? And why and how in God's name was Prof. Oak involved? Why were Ash's friends involved? Was this the explanation behind Brock's appearance? Had his grandfather flat-out lied to everyone? Under Jay's orders? Because of Team Rocket? And for how long? Every ounce of this oozing secret dripped befuddling and jaw-dropping reveals, Gary's mind rapidly attempting to piece it all together.
Then, it all collided within his thudding chest.
A breath hitching in the back of his throat, he put two and two together. Jay's abrupt disappearance made sense and yet at the same time it didn't... He had been on the run. But from what exactly? What kind of trouble had he stirred between him and the infamous Team Rocket? Whatever the case may be, they were questions that Gary wasn't supposed to ask and certainly wasn't supposed to have the answers for. Wonky feet eventually rose, and in a quickened pace Gary raced down the stairs, disappearing without a trace.
For Prof. Oak's sake, security was clearly lacking. Tracey may have successfully latched the door shut. But unfortunately, he didn't think to double-check the lock.
Author's Note: SO MUCH DRAMA. ;D Hope you guys enjoyed this new installment and thanks to all who left amazing reviews the last time! I start classes again in late September so we'll see how many chapters I can upload for you guys until then. Currently chapters fifteen and sixteen are with my beta reader, and I'm now on a roll with seventeen. :) Even with school coming soon, I was considering writing a holiday short story if time allows me too. I would have to close the current poll, and upload a new one asking you guys if you'd like to read an autumn themed story vs. a winter one. If I decide to, I'll have the details mentioned so you can see which one might appeal to you more!
Thanks again for taking the time to read and reviews are always appreciated. :D