3. The taste of success.
Back at Team Rocket's cabin, Jessie was the first to wake up. She checked a nearby alarm clock - it was nearly nine. After a yawn she tried to get up but found that she couldn't move and began to panic, thinking she'd been captured by other Team Rocket representatives. Then she recognised her surroundings. She looked down to see a blue-haired head lying on her stomach, and a tan cat curled up on the body attached to it. Normally she would have thrown the pair of them across the room but something made her stop. Meowth DID look quite cute like that, and come to think of it, so did James. Especially now that he was older. She was just about to move a lock of hair out of his eyes when the alarm clock went off. The noise woke Meowth, who stretched nonchalantly and jumped off James as if this was something he did every day, and disappeared to the kitchen. James also woke up, but it was the clenching of Jessie's body as the alarm clock startled her that did it. He opened his eyes to see her face, then yawned and looked at her.
"Hi, Jess." There was a pause.
"GET OFF ME, YOU DIMWIT!!!!" James lifted his head enough for her to move and she got up. His head hit the hard floor with a loud thud.
"Ow." She ignored him and went to tap on Pikachu's glass. The pokémon woke up.
"Hello, Pikachu. Today you're off to see the Boss." she said gleefully. Meowth wandered back in looking peeved.
"Where's my breakfast?"
"You're a cat - go catch something."
"I could really go for a roasted rodent…" he suggested, eyeing Pikachu hungrily and licking his lips. Jessie grabbed him and threw him at James, who had finally forced himself up. Both of them hit the far wall.
"You can have all the food you want once we hand this Pikachu over! Think of all the money we'll make!" The three of them began to imagine…
***
Jessie was being pampered and preened by several stylists and make-up artists. James was performing on a stage on a tropical island being cheered on by Jessie [Three dreams in one!, he thought.] Meowth was being followed adoringly by female Persians.
***
They snapped out of it as James' stomach rumbled. "I'm hungry." he complained.
"You're always hungry," said Jessie. James pouted at her. "Meowth, get Pikachu, James, the balloon. Team Rocket are about to get paid!"
Meanwhile, Misty was still running. Despite the tears that had welled up previously she hadn't actually cried. Yet. She was rerunning the whole situation through in her head, trying to think what had made him flip. What had she said? Nothing much, she'd said worse before now and it hadn't ended like this. They were always fighting with each other and she always had the last word. It was traditional! As the final few words of their argument went through her brain she tried desperately not to remember the eventual outcome. She failed. It was a vivid memory forever embossed upon her mind. The look in his eyes, of total fury - she'd sense he would hit her, then. The feel of his palm as it made contact, so strong and sharp. The terrible sound it made as it echoed all around. The look of absolute terror on his face afterwards - he hadn't meant to hurt her, she knew that, but all the same, he HAD…
She finally stopped running and fell to the floor. The tears came and she wept for a long time, alone. She longed for that familiar pair of jeans and that Pokémon League cap to appear along with a voice telling her not to be silly. It took her a while to realise that those were exactly what she was running from, and her tears fell anew to the floor.
Brock was looking for Misty. He was going to apologise, but not for Ash for once. He was going to apologise for not stopping the fight before it got out of hand. He felt it was partially his fault in that sense. In fact he felt utterly terrible. He'd inadvertently hurt Misty and he'd also deserted Ash right when he needed him. He kept walking in the hope of finding SOMEONE to apologise to…
A lifetime away, Ash was sitting on a log in a forest, pretending he wasn't lost. He waited for a familiar female voice to give some sort of unhelpful comment. That voice never came. He examined his hands once more - one of them was still throbbing and red, and the only thing that stopped the horrible burning sensation was his own small tears.