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Emberstorm
by Chustang
Chapter 3
"Rekindling the Fire"
Warmth. Soothing warmth.
Darkness cringed defiantly in his mind, still lurking with its
cruel talons, still hunting for his weakness. Yet it lived on his warmth,
and breathed immortally. Ash knew
nothing except for the malice of the dark… the Evil of hate. But when
the warmth
touched his cheek, it only withdrew to the back of his mind to brood
its return. It would
never die. It would never go away, he knew that. His memories, as faded
and smeared as
they were, still lived on and the Evil could always hid in them.
A voice. Faded.
Another. Calling.
Soft caresses of fur, and the nip of sparks.
What were they? He couldn't remember…too painful… Cringing, he
just wished
that this would all be over.
"Ash?"
The voice again, soft and beckoning. He wanted to come, but it
was too hard just
to breathe. Blood boiled in his throat with every labored breath, and
he suddenly felt his
chest sharply contract, causing him to cough again. It felt like his
whole body just
shuddered from the pain. But he finally managed to crack open an eye.
"Pika Pi?" Saffron fur framed those loving black, marble eyes,
and the tiny button nose gently nudged his cheek. Even the love from his
Pokemon hurt. "Pika!" it
exclaimed softly, curling up against his cheek.
"Brock, he's awake!"
"Ummnh…" he groaned painfully. Light flooded his eyes, as sharp
as a razor. The pain again as he slightly rolled his head. A fresh stream
of blood trickled down his face, burning painfully against his skin. Who…
Brock?
Suddenly, the light dimmed and his emotional, tear-filled eyes
finally opened without stinging bitterly. He could see again. Over him,
he could see a vaguely familiar face
framed in bright red hair. "Ash?" she asked. "Are you okay? Can you
hear me?"
"Mmmisty?" He sealed his eyes just trying to remember again.
Ash raised his
hand, aching from the slight movement, and he felt Misty gently grasp
it.
"Just rest, you need to rest."
Dizzy. Can't think. Another sharp pain.
"Arcanine…. is okay?"
"We don't know," Brock said, sitting down beside the table. He
could hear his
heavy-hearted sigh. "She doesn't seem to want to live. She definitely
can, but its like she just gave up on herself. It's really sad."
Suddenly, a thought came to mind. Maybe if he could just tell
them, it might help her. But his voice cracked, and only his lips moved,
barely making a slight whisper.
"Ash? What are you trying to say?" Misty asked.
He tried again. "She….needsss…a ..n-name…to know… she's loved."
"Gary just called her Arcanine. And probably some other names,
not so pleasant
ones, so I see what you mean," Brock agreed softly.
"But what could we call her?" Misty said.
"Emberstorm."
* * * * *
His fingers, although shivering from the cold of steel that stirred
the wrath of the Evil, brushed against the wheel he had grown accustomed
to. The cold. Again. He
shuddered involuntarily. Again, the bitter memories stirred in his
anguished, tired amber-brown eyes, and the sting of tears reminded him.
He'd never escape. The Evil, with its
dark roots scarred in his mind, was a permanent ghost that would thrive
in him as long as he knew, as long as he remembered.
Ash sighed, sagging his punished body against the wheelchair
back, and he rested his head. His long black hair swayed over his eyes
as they locked in their usual glazed
gaze at the ceiling, and the gentle brush of the locks lulled him into
a state of thought.
The boy knew only pain for the last few weeks, and the restrains that
allowed him to heal. God, he thought to himself, my life… is ruined.
The doctor's cruel and punishing words, although spoken like
a soft wind, had
punched brutally in his reality. He was a cripple. Forced to live in
his wheelchair, his
improvised legs. He winced at the thought that was immortally tied
to his reality. Without working legs, he'd have to choose. Risk killing
himself Pokemon training in a
wheelchair, or live out his life at home, but surround by his friends.
Brock and Misty…. Well, they remained his true and loyal friends, even
to the end. They each promised to
stay in Pallet or the hospital with him and train Pokemon a little
at home, even though it might be impossible to be in a league anymore.
Ash sighed again, his throat rattling painfully from the memories.
Damn. Before, he'd never cursed. But the situation he was in seemed appropriate
for him to drop the
innocence. He'd been doing it since he'd been announced crippled and
cursed to live in
punishment. Misty and Brock had been shocked at first, but his morning
cusses became a ritual, just to shun his destiny. Even though he knew swearing
would never restore his
freedom.
"I just don't understand, Pikachu," he whispered, exhausted,
to Pikachu. The
Pokemon sat curled, asleep, in Ash's lap. Thank God for Pikachu. That
mouse had been
the best support and therapy. "I was only trying to help Gary. I was
only trying to show
him out of the dark. But…" His face twisted up at the thought and painful
memory
flashes of Gary, his former best friend, smashing and crippling him.
He sighed. It was no use.
Ash lifted his head, just to look on through the glass window.
Just a few feet
away, the limp body of the Arcanine lay on a stretcher. The beautiful
creature now only
could be seen as a beaten doll. Her throat was scarred and shaved from
cleaning
infections and stitching. Emberstorm was on her side, and her long,
wild-cut tufts of tan
fur had long lost their healthy shine. Through the dark red, tiger-banded
fur that was
blackened around her eyes and face from blood and dirt, her eyes lay
sealed in pain.
He felt sorry, as he settled on her. There were tubes and wires
connected to her
everywhere, and the life-support was the single thing that preserved
her. Of course, she
could heal on her own. But, for some reason, she had given up on herself.
Ash sighed. No one else had seen what really happened out in the woods,
so how could they realize she
didn't want to live without her puppy.
Damn it.
Anguished eyes flaring with angry desolation, he pounded on the
glass with one
fist. He narrowed his eyes, and they began to roll off the familiar
tears of pain. Pikachu,
at the pound, jolted awake. The mouse Pokemon glanced around in surprise
for a
moment, but as its marble-black eyes rested on Ash's twisted face as
he leaned on the
glass, he frowned. It knew he was being overcome by his depression,
and not even
Pokemon training would get rid of it. Pikachu softly whispered, "Pikapi,
Pikachu…" and climbed up to perch on his shoulder.
Ash just sighed, chest rattling, and his eyes just stared into
Emberstorm's room.
He seemed so sunk and isolated in depressed thought that he didn't
even acknowledge
th door clicking to the hallway he was stopped in, as Misty peeked
her head in. Her eyes,
at first were filled with her usual bright energy, but instantly darkened
with pity. Ash wasdoing it again. He was getting depressed.
Misty tried to shake it off, walking over to him. "Hi Ash. Want
to go out to the
lake for a while? I think the doctor might let you go swimming with
me and Brock now." Her hand rested on his shoulder, and she realized, with
a shock, how cold his shoulder
felt. Was it a sign?
Ash ignored her.
Her lips twisted downward in a frown. "Ash?"
No reply.
Misty felt her heart shatter at his silence. Damn it Ash, don't
do this! She thought to herself, her face twisting again. The girl kneeled
down to come to eye level with him,
but he continued to stare listlessly in the window. His eyes darted,
painfully inspecting
his reflection, and, as if disgusted, shut tightly. "Ash," Misty said
softly, but firmly.
"Please listen to me. I know you feel depressed and like your life
is ruined, but just forget all that. You can still Pokemon train, and you
still have Brock, Pikachu, your mom, and me here for you. All your Pokemon
love you no matter what happens to you, and…and.."
Her voice trailed off, her azure eyes narrowed in confusion and
anguish. Her
orange-red hair brushed in front of her eyes as she just quit. He'd
been like this for
weeks. Although, lately, he'd been more responsive to them and even
been playing a few games of catch with Pikachu and Brock.
"Just forget it," she angrily hissed to herself. As she stood
up to leave, her hand
still on his shoulder, he suddenly leaned on her hand. With a sigh,
he closed his eyes and just rested his cheek against her hand. Misty was
surprised; it was one of the first times
he'd acknowledged her after he'd been announced crippled. But she could
understand.
She let him fall asleep against her palm, and pulled up a chair to
sit next to him while he
slept.
Damn it anyway.
Pikachu, cheeks sparking, leaped forward. Its body blurred with
impossible speed, as the creature screamed a challenge to heed. The Pokemon
crashed fully in a furious
head butt into its target, before agilely slamming its paws into its
body and leaping back
to attack again. Agility was crucial in this match, because no attacks
were working. Eyes narrowed, Ash could see the opponent was totally unaffected.
The steely blue Nidorina
towered, her short but venomous spikes bristling, over Pikachu. Jagged
scales framed theblood red eyes she possessed, and she barely felt the
head butt. With one, feral hiss, she
lunged forward in a counter head butt and the spikes pricked toward
his Pokemon.
Ash stood, watching the battle with fear, and his eyes widened
with shock.
"Pikachu!" He knew Pikachu would get hit.
And it did. The poor creature, pricked by the spines, instantly
was injected with
poison. The Nidorina didn't stop though. Her body continued to smash
into Pikachu, and once she lost enough momentum to stop, the force sent
Pikachu tumbling.
Ash screamed in fear, because, somehow, Pikachu was rolling toward
the lip of a cliff. He couldn't let this happen. He began to run, his wheelchair
nowhere in sight, and
raced after Pikachu.
Not again, please.
Instantly, his legs buckled beneath his weight, numb and limp.
First, his knees
crashed to the ground, but even the weight on his useless knees was
too much. Ash
tumbled to his face, body sprawled out. He lifted his face to look
up. And again, he
watched Pikachu slowly tumble over the edge…
"Pikachu!"
Ash bolted up in bed, his chest thundering wildly to the harsh,
winded rush of his breathing. Darkness pressed in from all sides. He looked
wildly around but calmed
slightly when he realized: it just had been another dream. The same
one that haunted him.It punched in the fact that he would never walk again,
and if Pikachu ever needed him… He hung his head, face burning from oncoming
tears and sweat. If Pikachu ever needed
him, he'd have to watch.
Ash felt the cool sheets of the hospital bed, and the small,
dim electric glow from out in the other room. Ever since he'd been announced
crippled, the doctors agreed to
give him a small, two room house attached to the hospital to live until
he recovered. The other room, besides the bedroom, contained a TV, computer/phone,
and one large, worn
couch. Through the small crack of the door separating the rooms, he
could hear the TV's low murmur and glow. It was probably Misty or Brock.
His hand crept down to the foot
of the bed, trying not to use his limp legs to stretch, and brushed
Pikachu's silky, gently
rising and falling form. Good. It was a dream.
He decided to see who it was. He wasn't going to sleep now; he'd
never been able to fall asleep after completely waking up, especially after
nightmares. He was afraid he'd have another one to haunt his conscious,
mocking him of his fate. Ash deftly slid his
immobile lower half over to the side of the bed, where he'd parked
his wheelchair.
Reaching out in the dark, he could barely see the arms from the TV's
dim illumination
but managed to get a hold and slowly lower himself into it. Once seated,
his arms
carefully rolled the steel wheels, manovering with slight twists and
thrusts of his hands.
Ash pulled back the door more, and dimly colored, muted glow
of the TV lit the
spacious room. Its faded color lit up Misty's face, as she lifted her
head from the couch
arm. Her blue eyes, darkened by sleepless bags beneath them, were wide
in surprise. Her lips were mutely forming words that died and fell away,
as she sat up. Around her
thinned frame, she had a light blanket. "Ash!" she whispered. "What
are you doing up?
Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"
He smiled slightly, a thing he'd hadn't done for weeks. Ash was
surprised at his
own reaction as well. Perhaps he was softening. Or maybe he it was
'cuz he felt... almost soothed when he was with Misty. "No, not at all.
It was just..." he cast his light brown
eyes downward in shame. "Just a nightmare, again. Nothing to worry
about though."
Misty just sighed, her loose hair cascading about her shoulders.
Her eyes, tired
beyond years, searched his also tired face, one she had seen laughing,
smiling. It held
nothing but resentment, fear, and pain, now. She began to trace her
gaze along his
childish face again, like she had in the past, but only behind his
back. He'd never been
looking at her as she did. The unruly, bed-snarled black hair framed
his slightly
tanned, unscathed face. The strands fell limply over his face, slightly
concealing his light
filled, innocent eyes. Also highlighted against two dark, smeared scars,
his eyes slightly
narrowed in anguish. Tears flowed from them freely now, as they locked
with hers.
Misty stood up in alarm, taking her blanket from the couch as
she did. "Ash?
What's the matter?"
He just continued to silently cry, hanging his head. Ash painfully
held his head in his hands, and the tears dripped across his fingers. She
bit her lip, quickly walking across the room. Misty laid the blanket across
his lap, and gently brushed her fingers against his cheek. "Oh Ash, please
stop crying. It hurts me when you do," she softly pleaded,
clutching his cold hands.
He looked up slightly, but his eyes were dead with depression
again. "Misty, does it matter anymore?" His voice was angry at his twisted
fate, and he seemed to churn over and over in his mind.
"What does?"
"All this." He sighed. "Misty, try to understand. You can leave
at anytime to
fullfill your dreams, along with Brock. Hell, Pikachu could still be
the strongest in the
universe without me. I don't have my dream to live anymore." Tears
formed again, as she kneeled before him. "I can't be a master. Not as a....
cripple. I'll never make it out there, Misty. I'm damned to live like a
helpless baby for the rest of my life."
"Dont say that!" she said fiercely, determined to erase his depression.
"The
doctors say you still can walk. You just need to work and give yourself
time."
He looked up at her, and his eyes were almost angry. "Forget
it Misty. Its been a whole month. You know as well as me I'll never walk
again." His face twisted painfully.
"They just lie to make you and Brock feel better." Ash then turned
away, pushing the
wheels to go. He only glanced back before disappearing back into his
room.
Misty had apparently developed her temper again. She tightened
her lips against
her teeth, and they gritted angrily. Did he have to be that way? He
never gave up before,
so why now? Angrily snapping off the TV, she stood up, pulled her jacket
on, and
stormed out the door. She'd show Ash not to give up.
Misty sauntered through the dark hospital, with only the soft
illumination from
the occasional light. The sleep-dreprived girl tightened a jacket around
her shoulders,
which shivered uncontrollably. Her soft footsteps echoed eerily through
the halls, as she headed toward the very familar Pokemon room. As she turned
down the hall, toward
Emberstorm's room, a chill sparked up her spine.
Stepping lightly in front of the window, she could define the
Arcanine's raggedly breathing shape against a distant light in the back.
Misty gently placed a hand against the glass and stared deeply at the Pokemon.
It was just condemning itself to a miserable life; it wouldn't even try
to deny its fate and overcome its problem.
Just like Ash.
Suddenly, the night began to catch up with her. Her azure fluttered
tiredly, and,
too drowsy to resist, slumped to the floor, asleep. And Misty began
to dream.
She awoke with a start, her azure eyes flashing open to meet
the hospital celing.
It dawned on her. And in a swift heartbeat, Misty Waterflower
had the answer.