All of Team Rocket were able to plow forward in life without fear from then on - for the first time, they had no worries that someone would come and take away their livelihoods, not Donovan and not Giovanni. Surprisingly, this lack of pressure made them perform much better at their regular job, and they came tantalizingly close to success at their ultimate goal multiple times, closer than they'd ever been; indeed, it was beginning to seem as though the only thing keeping them from capturing Pikachu was some sort of divine mandate, as though Arceus Itself had decreed that the electric rodent and its trainer could never be separated.

Maybe It had.

As for their private lives, mercifully, Jessie and James refrained from getting too intimate while roughing it in the wilds with their Pokémon - just a few stolen kisses when they had a brief moment and the occasional discrete touch when no one would notice, nothing that would make their companions feel scandalized. Anything more than that was reserved for when their journeys led to them staying in either hotels or bases in which they would have separate rooms from their Pokémon when they slept; Meowth told them that that didn't necessarily preclude them making enough noise to bother their partners, but it wasn't always easy to care, and as Meowth had predicted, the Pokémon learned to deal with it.

When they got intimate, Jessie and James quickly and wordlessly developed two rules: One, that they never took positions in which one of them could be said to be 'on top' of the other, wherein either of them would feel pinned down; and two, there was absolutely no exploration of techniques that involved any sort of pain or harm of any kind, not even spanking. One might have thought that these unspoken rules would leave their options incredibly limited, but with a little covert research, they learned about plenty of methods that fit their parameters, and were never lacking for ways to have fun and keep things interesting. Jessie even started taking medication that would prevent any unwanted outcomes (a baby was the absolute last thing either of them needed or wanted to have to deal with); James offered to cover himself, but Jessie argued that that would ruin the point - being together was about being completely as one with each other, with no space or barriers between them, that was the joy of it, and if he used a cover, they might as well just not do it at all. No, she insisted, she was fastidious enough with her pill schedule to ensure that there was no need for such things, and she was. Besides, getting sent blasting off every few days would probably prevent any pregnancy from sticking anyway, though they couldn't count on that.

That wasn't the only thing they researched, though. Social media, a fairly new innovation in their world, was just starting to catch on, and through it, Jessie and James kept an eye on the inevitable media frenzy surrounding the downfall of Donovan Star, just to make sure all went according to plan and their hard work payed off. At first, it seemed like Donovan's jail time was inevitable - Galarian government's attempt to keep details out of the public domain were laughable, and the story spread like wildfire across all news and personal networking sites: that he was a murderer, that his academy had been a facade meant to lure in young girls so he could torture them for his own sick amusement, that he'd tried to scrub all legal records of his starlets' existence so no one would be able to find them or help them. Jessie and James even made a couple of accounts of their own with the specific intention of adding details and setting records straight, and people took these details and ran with them, rarely asking or caring who the source was, though the Rockets didn't embellish anything.

Then came the news of Donovan's counterattacks. The first thing the Rockets saw on this was word that all stocks and income from Star Enterprises was being divided equally between the nine victims of Starstruck Academy besides Jessie; a little backtracking revealed that Donovan had tried reminding the girls that their contracts had forbidden them from publicly defaming him, to which the girls had quite rightly laughed, posting his messages online for the world to see and proudly declaring what Jessie - or, as they called her, "our hero Jessica" - had told them: that they were human beings, and pieces of paper didn't define their lives. It seemed the girls had chosen to stay close, and now stood strong together in the face of their former jailor, rejecting Donovan's entreaties that they keep their mouths shut. In the end, the nine of them taking control of the incredibly lucrative legacy of the Star family had been a settlement that, as far as Jessie could tell, they'd offered him almost as a dare, but he'd accepted, and given up the very source of his wealth willingly in exchange for their silence. While Jessie was proud of the girls for finding the courage to defy the man who'd broken their spirits and take away the root of his power, without their testimony in court, Donovan's imprisonment was far less certain.

After that, news of the whole affair died down surprisingly quickly, in a way that could only happen if money was involved in shushing everyone. Within four months, James had to start hacking into government databases to keep a close enough eye on things, and it seemed that the mountain of evidence they'd compiled for the police was slowly vanishing, bit by bit, doubtless bought out of existence. Evidently, the thirty-trillion-plus-Pokédollars' worth of money they'd taken from the Star manor in cash and assets before burning the place to the ground had only been a fraction of the wealth Donovan had to hand, even without the income from his family's business. When they discovered that the confession he'd made to the murder of his parents, which Jessie had suffered hours of torture to get him to make, had mysteriously vanished from all legal archives, Jessie felt a cold pit in her stomach.

"He's really going to walk, isn't he?" she said softly, turning away from where she'd been reading the computer monitor over James's shoulder to hug herself. "After everything we did, he's still going to get out of all of it."

"He was right about one thing," James sighed heavily; "you would be amazed what money can buy."

"Especially for people who aren't as loopy as your family," Jessie grumbled.

"Hmm…" She didn't have to look back to see the way he cringed a moment before collecting himself.

Jessie had told herself she hoped Donovan would escape legal justice so she could use her backup plan, but now that it seemed like her wish was coming true, she was starting to realize what a bad backup plan it was. It depended on lunatics who couldn't be counted on to be reasoned with or even anticipated, there was no reason to think they'd go along with it. As much as Jessie hated anticipating her own failures-

"He's still ruined, Jess," James said suddenly, interrupting her despairing train of thought.

"Huh?" She blinked and turned back to look at him over her shoulder.

"He has no home and no Pokémon," James said, "and he's been cut off from the source of his wealth…and given everything else he has to contend with, I bet he's spending all the rest of the money he has sweeping all this under the rug - I don't know who he had to pay or how much he had to pay them to get rid of that recording of his confession, but it probably took most of what he has left. If he manages to buy his way out of legal trouble, he'll most likely be left all but penniless…and what's more, even if he isn't charged, everyone knows what he did, Jess. It's been all over Galarian social media, there isn't anyone in the region who doesn't know the truth about him. No one will give him any chance to rebuild. He'll never be able to hurt anyone again, one way or another."

"No," Jessie growled, a flare of rage burning away her doubts, "he won't, because we'll make sure of that. Won't we?"

James winced, and Jessie knew he had even more doubts than she did. But all he said was, "Of course, my heart."

"Enough," she huffed, folding her arms. "It's late. Time to turn in."

A gleam lit in James's emerald eyes as he closed the laptop he'd been working on - in just a few short months, what had once been a source of paralyzing terror for him was now something he looked forward to, and was almost eager for. That suited Jessie just fine; mind-numbing lust was a new shield from emotion, allowing her to rest her old, battle-scarred barrier of wrath every now and then. But as James began to peel off his gloves so as not to upset her, so seemingly free of what had once been crippling trauma that she felt a flash of envy, Jessie realized that right now, she didn't want a shield.

She wanted a sword.

"James."

Before she knew what she was doing, Jessie had stepped across the room to grab James by the wrists, preventing him from pulling even one of his gloves off.

"What is it?" he asked, blinking at her in confusion.

Jessie took a deep breath. "I want you to keep your gloves on," she told him.

"Huh?" James's eyes went wide. "But…But Jessie-"

"I want him out of my head!" Jessie snarled. "If he gets to walk free, then so do I!" Releasing him, she took a step back, brandishing her arms in a welcoming gesture. "Take off my clothes while you're wearing your gloves," she all but commanded.

"Jess, are you sure?" James whimpered. "I don't want to hurt you-"

"Do it!" Jessie snapped. "Let me tackle him head-on before I ever have to see his disgustingly perfect face again!"

"You really think this will work…?" James asked.

"I said," Jessie growled, "do it!"

"O-Okay," James stammered, taking a slow, tentative step closer to her. "Just - just let me know if it gets to be too much, and I'll stop, okay?"

"I will," Jessie conceded begrudgingly, holding her body rigid as James reached for her with shaking hands.

He started with her gloves, which wasn't so bad - he barely had to touch her skin thanks to her shirt, and Donovan had never had to take gloves off of her. Even so, and even though it was James, and even though their uniform gloves were an entirely different material from the crushed velvet of Donovan's torture kit, Jessie had to fight the urge to shiver. It didn't help that James was going slowly, clearly waiting for her to change her mind, maybe even hoping she would. She aimed a sharp glare at him, but the apprehension on his own face didn't fade.

Once her blouse was off, it got harder, as she was then reduced to what she'd been wearing when Donovan had captured her and taken her back to be tortured for five days straight. James swallowed hard, trembling so badly he could barely grasp the hem of her undershirt, and as his gloved fingers slid under the form-fitting cloth, Jessie bit her lip in a vain attempt to withhold a whimper. She remembered that day, knowing what was going to happen to her, not knowing a day would come when she would ever have so much as a semblance of freedom again, the cold ice in those mahogany eyes-

It's not him, she told herself, focusing on James's shining emerald irises, his familiar scent. Donovan will never hurt me again.

As James kept working, he went from slow to quick, clearly hurrying to get this over with now, and he seemed like he was trying to keep his fingers from brushing her skin as much as he could. It took Jessie a few minutes to realize this, though, as his movements felt uncannily similar to Donovan's that day. Gritting her teeth, fighting down her panic, she slowly realized that it wasn't just her imagination - just as James was doing now, Donovan had been trying to avoid touching her when he'd undressed her. All three times she'd been taken to the Cinder Room, in fact, he'd worked at her clothes just like this.

He really did hate touching us, she realized, her eyes widening as understanding dawned through her terror. She'd found the answer.

But it gave her no closure, as it only invited a second question: Why?

That, she would probably never know. Further thinking was going to be hard anyway, as piece by piece, her uniform came off under James's gloved hands. Cold stone, cold eyes, the metal box that held the poison that would reduce her to an unthinking shell that knew only pain-

It's not him! she shouted at herself, trying to blink back the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. I'm not in that torture prison anymore, I'm with James!

Her whole body was shaking now, and there was nothing she could do about it. Fiery rage combatted the chilling terror in her veins, and she focused on how much she hated the man who had tricked her, how much she hated that he was still in her head, making something so harmless so difficult. She tried to focus on James's green eyes, which were wordlessly pleading with her to call this whole thing off, but she set her jaw and glowered her resolve at him.

Boots, socks, skirt. When Jessie was down to her underwear, she had a moment of anticipation, already awaiting Serperior's vines striking her down, but of course, they didn't come. James got started on her underthings, and this was surprisingly easier to bear - Donovan had never touched her undergarments himself, the one time he'd had to strip her completely naked he'd had his Indeedee do this part for him.

Then, at last, Jessie was entirely bare, and she was still standing. She hadn't cried or broken down, hadn't been overwhelmed by trauma. As it slowly sank in that she'd done it, a smile stretched her lips that quickly became a grin. The fear dissipated, and sheer joy took its place, bubbling up in her chest and coming out as a laugh of triumph. She jumped and twirled on a whim, dancing around the room, before abruptly seizing James and kissing him passionately, still laughing.

"Jessie?" he mumbled against her kiss, sounding bewildered. "Are you alright?"

"Sweet victory!" she cheered, spinning in another quick dance. "Ha ha, that psycho can't control me anymore!" Her happiness turned to ferocity, and she grinned wickedly at her partner. "I can't wait to deliver him to your fiancée," she told him. "I can't wait to see the look on his face when I tie him up and drop him off on your doorstep!"

"But Jess-!"

"No more talking!" Jessie declared, her grin turning savage as she started clawing at James's uniform. "And no more worrying! Donovan's ruined, and we're on top of the world! So shut up and kiss me!"

Not waiting for him to acquiesce, she clamped her mouth back over his, and after a few more muffled protests of confusion, James surrendered and helped her get his clothes off. Her joy and triumph were almost infectious, and he was able to relax into her. The way she'd faced her fears head-on like this and won reminded him of one of the many reasons why she was his other half…but…

…but he wanted that triumph too, he realized. Just getting over his fear of intimacy wasn't enough, the witch who haunted him still had a hold on him and he wanted to be free, free as his partner now was. True, Jessie was everything he wasn't, that was what made them so perfect together; but as the last of his clothes were violently tossed aside and his partner tackled him onto the bed, rolling him over to take one of the few positions they were both comfortable with, he made the split-second decision to fling his arms and legs out and press his back against the mattress, just as she had done the first time they'd shared a bed, forcing her to a halt.

"James?" she blinked her sapphire eyes at him, her enormous grin dimming in confusion. "What are you doing?"

Terror clawed at James's throat, but he met Jessie's gaze, even though her face was so similar to the one that haunted his nightmares. "If you get to be free," he growled, "then so do I."

The last of Jessie's smile fell away. "James…"

"I want her out of my head, Jess," James whispered. "If this worked for you, then…I…" He swallowed hard.

It was Jessie's turn to hesitate, to worry about her partner's condition. "Are you sure?" she asked, gently for her.

No. "I am," he lied, hoping that just saying it would make it true. "Please, Jess, if we're going to have to…I…" His eyes began to burn, his chest constricting with the beginnings of panic - just being in this position triggered his fears, and Jessie's uncanny resemblance to Jessebelle certainly didn't help matters; in the low light, it was easy for his mind to play tricks on him, to portray everything he was afraid of instead of what was really there. It's not her, he told himself. Jessie couldn't be more different, even if she looks the same. I'm safe here.

Telling himself this didn't help much.

Jessie frowned, clearly seeing right through what little bit of a façade James had managed to put up. But, unlike him, she didn't try to talk him out of it, either. "Just tell me if you can't keep going," she said instead, straddling him.

He was too scared to be in a mountable condition, so she leaned down and pressed her lips to his, kissing him tenderly at first, then more deeply. It was a kiss Jessebelle would never have given him, and he relaxed, tasting the spice on her tongue, that fire that was so different, empowering rather than controlling. Slowly, he began to lose himself in the closeness he shared with this woman, and his body obligingly followed suit. Jessie hummed with something like amusement and shifted, taking him in where he was up and ready.

Slowly, gently, far too gently for Jessie, she rocked against him, her mouth locked with his, her hands pressed into his chest, not clawing at him, not demanding anything. Breathing came harder for both of them as pleasure began to build, and James resisted the urge to reach up and caress his lover's body - he needed to pretend he was tied down and couldn't move, even if the idea terrified him, because that was what it would be like if this was his nightmare. But it wasn't his nightmare, it was Jessie, and even as desire began to take hold and drive her to move more forcefully, she still kissed him, still touched him gently, still wasn't Jessebelle.

James had thought he would have to force himself to finish. Instead, he found himself fighting his release, not wanting to let his partner down. When at last she cried out and shattered, he followed her into sweet oblivion with relief.

It was euphoric beyond anything he'd ever known, not just for the intimacy with Jessie but for his own conquest of his fears. When he came to, he felt emboldened, empowered, free of his old shackles.

But it wasn't quite as much of a high as it had been for Jessie. The burden wasn't gone entirely, and as he drifted off to sleep nestled in Jessie's embrace, he felt an uncharacteristic rebellious streak niggle at him.

Just facing his terror wasn't enough. But what more could he do…?