*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Fourteenth: Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

Written by the Duke of Briarcliffe

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Author's Notes: Thanks for everything once more, especially to Shakru; it's nice knowing that I have an ongoing fan. Where are your reviews? Just kidding. As sad as it may seem, I think that there will only be about 6 more chapters after this. I'll try to make them good for you. —The Duke of Briarcliffe

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"While troubles will come, they are always temporary—nothing lasts forever. Thus, there is the famous legend that King Solomon, the wisest man of all times, had a ring inscribed with the words, This too shall pass." —Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan

*~*

"YOU MUST BE SICK OR SOMETHING because that definitely was not Ash," Duncan pronounced, folding his arms over his chest. "Which means that you just yelled at someone whom you don't even know."

"Believe me, I know Ash when I see him," Madison declared.

"Well obviously you don't, because that was not him," Duncan pointed out once more, growing more smug each passing second, thus adding kindling to Madison's already raging inferno.

"How can I not know Ash when I see him?" Madison pointedly asked, it was a rather rhetoric answer, or one that cannot be given an exact answer. Annoyance was climbing higher and higher and there was no gardener to prune it. One more stupid statement and he wasn't sure that he could be held responsible for what ensued.

"Ash is a middle-aged man, Madison. He probably has gray hair and, judging from the last time I saw him, he is at least two inches shorter than that guy that was here. Because of you, I wasn't even able to get my pokéballs!"

"Oh, that's it!" Madison yelled as he grabbed part of Duncan's shirt—near the shoulders—and slammed him up against the adjacent wall. He was so enraged that he hadn't realized how hard he'd done it. The adrenaline pumped faster, and he barely knew if he could suppress the urge to smash his friend's face in right then and right there.

"That was my half-fucking-brother, Ash. God! You're such a dumb-ass! You think you know everything when you really don't!"

"Alright, I think that we had better leave; come on Aerin," Imagen hurriedly announced to the pair who was enduring a staring-fest near the doorway. It looked as if Madison was about to claw Duncan's eyes out or strangle him to death, as he held him up against the wall, and Duncan looked like he was under an intense sort of pressure. They remained that way, seemingly unaffected by Imagen's sudden announcement.

Aerin still looked on, not seeming to notice that words that had come from her companion's mouth. Her body was tense, as if she was scared or something along those lines. For whatever reason, she did not budge from her place. A 12-point letter Q tablet still remained enclosed in her tight fist, having never been able to win the game with the word, QUACK.

"Girl, are you deaf or something? I said, 'Let's go!'—meaning now, or right this instant. I don't want to stick around for whatever might occur up in here," Imagen scolded her.

"But Jen, we can't just leave them here with all of this bad blood floating around. We have to try and calm them down," she pleaded after coming out of her taciturn trance. She snatched back her arm; "Now let go!"

Imagen bitterly narrowed her eyes at Aerin before allowing a loud, prolonged groan escape her lips. Then, raking her fingers through her hair, she made up her mind. Sauntering up to the pair, she irately said, "I'm getting sick and tired of this staring shit. If you're going to fight then, someone, please bust a move because Aerin over here will not budge until she knows that everything is fine between you two. And I'm ready to go home now."

Madison was the first to break. His hard, cerulean eyes softened down quite drastically. "I have to go out and clear my head. I'll be back later," he said as he, not taking a windbreaker or anything, opened the door to leave. "Bye Imagen; bye Aerin; it was nice having you over." Then, he walked out of the door.

"Well?" Imagen scoffed.

"What?" Duncan queried, quite puzzled. The slightly rose tint that was in his cheeks had subsided, now leaving the natural light bronze. He stared at her broodingly for a few seconds before stating, "Oh. I see. If you think that I'm going to go after him then you are dreadfully mistaken."

"Oh, get over it! He's your friend, probably one of your only friends. And when a friend storms out, I think that you're supposed to go after him. Don't you think so too?"

"Normally I would. Anyways, he's a big guy; he can take care of himself."

Imagen groaned as she walked in a circle to relieve the anger that was growing inside of her. Deliberately talking slower she asked him, "What is it that you do not understand? He is your best friend. Who knows what type of trouble he might get himself into?"

"That's his own business, not mine."

"Well if you think that way, then you're a sorry ass friend. He'd be better off without you then," she growled. She glanced back at Aerin, who was still transfixed. "Girl, snap out of it! This is called a fight. You know, when two people don't agree with one another and get into some sort of confrontation? Get used to it. And don't look so scared. Calm down."

Aerin broke out of her trance. "I know what a fight is..."

"Then act like it."

Nasturtium busted out of the bedroom and came trotting up to Duncan. "[What the hell is going on in here? What's up with all of that noise? Decent pokémon are trying to get some sleep over here!]"

Duncan jabbed an accusing finger at Imagen, who greeted it with an acidic glare. "If you care so much about him, and you're such a good friend, then why don't you go after him?"

Imagen blinked in surprise at his audacity and at his senselessness. She exhaled loudly before looking Duncan straight into his amethyst eyes. "You know what, Duncan Beechcombe. I will go after Madison. You want to know why? Because I actually care about his mental and physical well-being. I'm not going to stand here like a little bitch, just because he ruffed you up a little bit. Suck it up! Be a man!" Thus said, she dashed over to the couch, kicked on her Nikes, and stomped out of the loft.

After many moments of silence had passed, Aerin finally moved, and sidled next to Duncan. "Duncan," she said softly. "Is everything alright? Can I help in any way?"

"Just leave it alone Aerin; I don't feel like talking. I don't feel like being talked to as if I were a child," he answered. "So please, if you're going to talk to me like that, then just don't talk at all."

She winced at his harsh words. "If that is the way you feel, right now. I'll leave, Duncan, if that is what you want. We can talk when your anger has faded." She put on her shoes and grabbed her things and walked out of the door, pausing in the frame to give him one last remorseful look.

Duncan let out a loud sigh before looking down at the befuddled Chikorita at his feet. "What are you looking at?" he scoffed.

She extended a ready vine; "[You know better than to talk to me like that,]" she growled, violet eyes focused, and gleaming. When Duncan hadn't responded, she barked, "[That's what I thought.]" She began her withdrawal back to her warm bed, grumbling, "[I swear that all you humans have issues. And when you do have them, you always want to take them out on other things. But, the next time you try to pull a fast one on me, I'm coming back to get my hit in.]"

*~*

"Come on Madison, wait up," Imagen called back, from about three blocks away on the brightly-lit sidewalk. Pumping her arms as she jogged a few paces, she soon closed the gap between them. When she had caught up with him, she walked alongside him for a few silent moments, her head lowered.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His attempt in trying to sound mean or even murderous had quickly been flushed down the toilet. Madison wanted to be angry toward everyone that came into contact with him; yet, oddly, he could not be angry at her, as much as he tried. "You have to go get James."

"James can wait right now, for once. Besides...he's sleeping with the pokémon," she replied.

That crack at trying to get her to leave had undeniably failed. He was drawing blanks there; nothing else came to mind. As a result, they walked in silence once more.

A rumbling in a thriving flower bush that fenced in part of the property from the sidewalk was heard but not observed. Imagen, for once, was at a loss of words and Madison, for once, wanted to empty all of his contents to her; the only problem was that he didn't know where to begin. She would definitely have to initiate the conversation.

But she didn't.

Madison did.

"I bet your wondering why I was such a pompous ass back at the apartment," he asked her, his gaze drifting sideways so he could see her reaction. She had slightly grinned due at his choice of words, however, once her mirth had been partially satisfied, she set her mouth back into a clam line. Yet, in spite of all this, Madison could still trace the hint of a smile.

He wryly chuckled at himself and Imagen joined in.

"You have a weird laugh," she teased.

"I have a weird laugh? No, you have a weird laugh. You sound like Wilma and Betty from the Flintstones."

"I do not."

"Uh huh! Yeah you do. It's all feminine and housewifely."

"I am not a housewife," she playfully scoffed before dwindling down into a state of contemplative solicitude. "Well, I suppose you're right. I've always laughed like that. My mom used to smile every time I laughed."

Madison recalled his previous tête-à-tête with Monsieur Beechcombe and remained silent, not wanting to foster any sort of sadness on her part. It was his turn to be angry, she'd been that way for the longest time. It was about him for once, yet he could not help but push his own feelings away for hers.

"I bet that your mother is really nice, huh?"
He only nodded.

They walked a few more paces until a small store was reached at the corner. With just one look in each other's direction, the proposition of going in had been made. After the purchases had been made—two Clearly Canadians, one cherry and one blackberry, and two bags of Sonic Sour Cream Doritos—the pair were once again on the street.

"So who was that Ash guy?"

"My half-brother," Madison replied, emphazing the 'half' in his state. The very thought of his face made him tremble on the inside. He would have preferred not to have mentioned him, but it was Imagen; he was allowed to make exceptions after all. Besides, he needed some sort of outlet.

"Why do you say it so harshly? James is my half-brother, and I love him to death," Imagen told him.

"But you can't help but to love James. He's a baby. You can't hate a baby. It's like, virtually impossible," Madison reasoned with her, pausing to take a swig of the carbonated spring water. "This type of half-brother...well...it's just different, is all."

"Is that the best you can come up with?"

Madison sniffed, his lip curling into a smile.

"In case you haven't noticed, Ash Jr—I take it that your father's name was Ash, or else Duncan wouldn't have made such big old deal about it—he's a human being too. How can you hold so much hate towards him? I mean, he hasn't hurt you in anyway, has he?"

"Of course he has!" he snapped. "It's because of that bastard, the both of them, that my Mom is still sad and why everyone's so estranged right now. If my Dad would've kept it in his pants and Melody hadn't have kept her legs closed, then everything would be fine right now."

"I'm still not registering how it is Ash's fault."

"If he and his stupid mother wouldn't have popped up on our doorstep and laid everything out, Mom wouldn't be suffering like she is now."

Imagen tossed it around in her head, thinking why should would do that. "Perhaps she didn't do it to break up your family. I think that her conscience might have gotten the best of her. She couldn't just pretend that it was nothing. Yeah, he was a mistake, but he's still a human being with feelings."

"I don't care about his feelings right now." He stopped and turned to face her, a look of bitter indignation brightly displayed on his face. "Do you know that now, because of him, I can sit in a room with my father, and not say one thing to him—one goddamned thing? We have no relationship anymore, and it's all his fault."

"Uh...Madison, I think that's your fault: that you don't have a relationship with your father."

"What?"

"Yeah. You could forgive him. You shouldn't let his mistakes ruin what you two had together and the potential of what you could have. I'm pretty sure that he's not the happiest person in the world right now. He probably regrets it every single day of his life. But you both seem selfish. One of you have to make an effort."

"Selfish? Selfish! I go to his shitty-ass cabin in the middle of the woods nearly every goddamn summer, don't I? That's one of the most unselfish things I can do. He should be able to take it from there."

"Why do you make it seem like everything has to have a certain role, and if isn't played right, then all hope is lost? Everything doesn't work out, you know? You have to make a few adjustments here and there."

"And you know everything there is about life?"

She indignantly placed both hands on her hips and gave him a a scorching stare. "Well, for someone whose coped with two deaths in her lifetime, is a slave in an apartment that she is paying for, and is raising a child, I would say that I know a hell of a lot more than you—a person who puts the blame on someone who couldn't help it that he was caught in the middle."

Not taking the retort very well, he jeered, "Oh, and now you're a hypocrite? Practice what you preach, Imagen. I know that you hate James's father because he got your mother pregnant."

"Don't you dare talk about her! You don't even know her!" she growled. Then, calming herself down, she added, "It wasn't like she cheated on someone. My father had been dead for years! She was bound to have moved on by then. She just moved down instead of moving up. The only bad things that she did was have a baby out of wedlock and get in a car with someone plastered. Who told you that anyways?"

"Duncan."

"That bastard," she grumbled. "Why would he tell you? Why would you care?"

"Because, damn it, I like you."

She was thrown aback by his statement. Her mouth was agape in shock. She began to giggle hysterically. "So that explains a few things. Oh Duncan thinks he's so slick, doesn't he? You really need to stop blushing all the time. But anyways, back to the point: stop blaming Ash Jr. for your own personal problems."

Madison huffed and looked off in disbelief. "So that's it? I tell you how I feel about you and you just dismiss it like it was nothing?"

"What do you want me to do?" she spat. "Do you want me to start crying and tell you that I've had a hidden passion for you? Well guess what? I'm not. I have enough stress in my life, and I don't need any more excess baggage by having a boyfriend."

Still hopeful, he asked, "So you're saying that you don't have time for me, but that you feel the same way that I do?"

Imagen stopped and moved him so that he would be leaning up against the lamppost. She collected her will-power and her thoughts into one coherent oration. "Madison...you're a nice guy and all. Your funny and you're cute. But, I do not like you; I do not want your body; I don't want anything that you have to give except for your friendship."

He wasn't sure of how he should take this. She thought that he was funny—a plus—and cute—a definite plus—and even nice—a big plus; and yet, despite all of his amiable qualities, she didn't like him. "Am I not boyfriend material, or something, because I mean, I could—"

She shushed him by placing her index finger and her middle finger onto his lips and earnestly staring him into the eye. "Madison, you are good material, better than your friend, Duncan, if that makes you feel better. But I do not feel that way about you."

"But—"

"Damn it; I don't like you like that! What aren't you comprehending?" she exploded. "What will make you understand that? I'm sorry for snapping at you like that, but I keep trying to tell you how I feel. Now please, just accept it."

Madison lowered his head down in penitence and said, "oh, all right." He looked up spryly, and said, "Well, at least I tried, right?" He turned around to go back to the loft, a stinging sensation in his eyes reminded him of his lost expectation as he retraced his footsteps.

Imagen couldn't help but feel a bit sad for him. She didn't like rejecting him. Perhaps there was something that she could do. Something, she'd never done before in her life. She ran up to him, threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him...

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Concluding Statements: This one was a bit on the short side but I had a severe case of Writer's Block on this chapter. I pray that you enjoyed it. It was kind of hard for me to write it. I need your criticism. Please review. —The Duke of Briarcliffe