Yield

He knew where to find her, there was nowhere else she would go when she was this wild. She had stormed away in a fury, screaming and ranting and raving and not a single thing he nor anyone else could do would get her to settle down, to talk to the doctor. No, quite the opposite. Instead, she ran fast and far away, head down as she plunged off into the night. He let her run, despite his friend's argument. She needed to blow off steam; he would let her. He went after her not an hour later, and found her in the first place he looked.

The batting cages. There she was. The redhead had the red helmet on, baseball bat swinging loosely as she waited for the next ball to come, relaxing her muscles. The ball, the fastest alley, shot down and she pounded it hard, sending it shooting across and slamming hard into the back wall. Then, back to her shoulder, swinging it into the air before repeating the process. How long she had been going at it, Ash didn't know. But when her hands shifted, he saw thick blisters, heard the tiring grunts with each swing, the lingering wince of sore muscles still heaving with every ounce of strength they had.

"Misty," he whispered quietly.

"Two more," she snapped back.

He waited, two more balls flew, each hit perfectly, each flying back to the back wall with a painful swing of the back. And he watched her, mindlessly go to the side and rummage through her pockets, wildly trying to find coins. She moaned when she couldn't find once, searching more and more frantically. When she finally found a corner, broken, pus oozing and bloody hands fumbled at the coin slot to invite more balls down the alley, more pain through her arms and hands.

"Misty," he said again. "This won't do a thing. I loved him too, not like you but…I know how you feel. Remember how I was when she died? But you can't change it. Things happen. Horrible, horrible things happen but you have to move on. You can't get stuck on these little things or else you'll live off nothing but them. You don't move on, you don't grow. You're stuck forever, and who wants to be stuck in puberty for the rest of their life?"

She fumbled, madly, and she whispered, "Ash, I don't have any more coins. I mean, I want to keep doing this. I can't stop doing this. I've been coming here for years and I can't just stop now, but I can't keep going because there aren't anymore coins. Give me a quarter, Ash, please, just give me a quarter."

"I can't do that, Mist. I can't let you hurt yourself, and I can't bring him back. This doesn't help. It's time to go home."

"No!" she shouted, pounding at the chain link fence. "I won't! I fucking won't! You can't make me, Ash. I'm going to stay here as long as I want, and I'll deal with it however I want. I can't go! I'm supposed to be here! I'm supposed to have coins and I'm supposed to hit these until I'm done! I'm not done yet! I'm not done!"

He walked inside and hugged her. She thrashed, not trying to get away from him, but the memory, the thoughts, the pain. Then she clutched at him, grabbed at his shirt and buried her head in his shoulder, beginning to choke on her breath as her throat swelled tight. And he hugged her back, he hugged her as tight as she had a couple years ago, when she died. It was warm. It was nice. But it wasn't enough to stop it.

The tears fell, despite the stop signs she had put up, the pain sunk in. The pain stuck and twisted and screamed from inside her stomach, and she collapsed under it, yielded to it.

"I can't believe I'm this heartsick over a dumb duck," she whispered.

"I know," he murmured. "That's why we're here. When the pokémon leave, we still have each other. And maybe, if we're lucky, we'll see them again someday. We just have to hope Arceus allows us to pass. Do you think you can wait?"

"Arceus shouldn't have took him. I let him go. I gave him over. They were pushing and I couldn't do a thing, I just sat down and let it happen! I just fucking yielding to it all and…" She began to cry again. "You only cried for a week. I think I'm going to cry a lot longer."

"No," he whispered. "It feels like it now, but you'll get sick of it soon. You'll get sick of feeling sorry and sobbing all the time. It just takes me a little longer since I'm so damn stubborn."

She gave a little choked laugh at that.

"See? You'll be over it by the end of the day."

"It can't stop hurting by-"

"No, it won't. Over it was a bad choice of words. It never will stop hurting, Mist, and anyone who says otherwise is a dirty liar, but, eventually, you can't lay down anymore. No matter how strong death is, life's an even stronger force." He hugged her closer. "No matter how easy you thought it was to yield to the tears, it's even easier to embrace the laughter."

"That a promise, you sap?"

He smiled. "It's a promise."