Disclaimer – I don't own Pokemon. What I do own is so insignificantly small that it isn't worth mentioning here so we'll just leave it at that.
Pretend to be Nice – Can't Take It No More
Dear Ash,
If you're reading this letter, then I know there is still a chance for me yet, and even though I'm sure you never want to see me again – all things considered I don't particularly want to see me much either – I need you to understand something before you're out of my life for good.
Firstly, you should know that this is entirely my fault and because of that nobody else should be blamed for my stupidity and the mistakes I have made because of it. Please don't take it out on Brock and end your friendship because of this; he was only a pawn in this twisted little game of cat and mouse.
In the same way the blame can't be shifted to Jesse. For starters, unlike me she tried to fix her mistake before it got out of control and in all honesty she was only trying to help; but most importantly it was my choice. I could have chosen to back out at any stage. I could have said no, but I didn't and because of that I might have just lost my best friend for good.
As you must know, I'm an awful person and what I did must disgust you beyond reason – truth to be told, I disgust myself even more so. What I did was an unforgivable act and nobody should be treated and used like I did you and Brock. It was no way to treat a friend and nothing could possibly compensate for that; not even Westlife tickets.
You probably already noticed the tickets enclosed with this letter. They're yours. I've been a lousy friend and pretty much a sorry excuse for just about anything, and in spite of everything that I went through in order to get them, I just don't deserve them or your forgiveness.
But I'm going to ask you to forgive me anyway because before I conclude this letter there's just one last thing I've got to get off my chest. I love you Ash Ketchum, and being away from you for even a second kills me inside. And if you felt even the tiniest shard of what I feel for you then you would meet me outside the concert hall tomorrow night and let me make things up to you as best I can.
If there's one thing that you can be certain of in all the lies that I built up around this confusion it is that I love you Ash, and it is only now that I have nothing left to lose – when I have already lost the thing dearest to me in all the world – that I can finally admit it to you.
With all my love, and all my soul,
Misty Kasumi Waterflower
A lone tear escaped quickly almost with a mind of it's own falling down onto the paper and causing the ink to run where it hit. After that more tears followed almost as if a barrier had been broken setting them all free of their confines in the aquamarine eyes of the letters inconsolable author.
She screwed up the paper and wiped her tears, throwing the letter towards the rubbish bin where it landed in a small pile along with the rest of her previous letters. It was ruined now, the letters had been smudged and she didn't expect anything but perfection for him.
That and she didn't want him to know that she had been crying. Her whole life she had made people believe that she was strong and that nothing could hurt her – that she was invincible - but he had hurt her because the truth was, that he was the only one who could ever hurt her.
Misty sighed woefully as she carefully smoothed out another piece of paper and began to write once again. She no longer needed a draft to follow, she had memorized each one off by heart and she knew exactly what to say. All the words, all the thoughts she needed to portray to him were engraved within her heart to a part of her that would be forever his.
She blinked back tears so as not to ruin another perfectly good letter. She hoped that this one would be it; she didn't think she could stand it if she had to write another.
Every time she put it all into words, she ended up reliving all the pain all over again. In hindsight it all seemed to be magnified and she constantly wished she had been born with the rare ability to kick herself in the butt.
God, why had she done it? Why hadn't she said no when she was given the chance?
It seemed so obvious now, she should have known earlier what sort of consequences would stem from such a decision. Ash would never trust her again and she really doubted that Brock had much respect in her despite what he said about guts and all.
She hated herself so much right now. She wouldn't have been surprised if everyone hated her right now. She didn't deserve to be loved by anyone; especially not him and she just wished everybody would stop being so goddamn sympathetic.
The tears began to well in her eyes once again as she gracefully signed her name at the bottom of the page. As quickly as she could she folded up the letter and slipped it into the envelope before it was damaged just like so many others had been.
'This is it,' she thought to herself. 'There's no turning back.'
She carefully sealed the enveloped containing her precious cargo confirming once again that this was it. She wrote out his full name in the same delicate cursive she had always used and drew a quick sketch of a Horsea in one corner.
Ash would immediately recognize the handwriting, she knew that much; and because of that he may not open the letter but it was a chance she had to take. If she didn't even try to work things out with him all she would be left with would be regret and she already had enough of that to last her a lifetime.
She didn't even have his friendship anymore; it was lost to her just as he was. It seemed that all she was hanging onto right now was the slim hope that he would give her another chance at what she had so severely botched up.
Misty took a deep breath as she slipped out of her room and into the corridor heading for the room number that Nurse Joy had been so kind as to supply. Lucky for her, Ash had continued on his way to the Pokemon Centre they had planned to stay in and was doing just that. If he hadn't she would have been worse off than she was now.
She poised her hand ready to knock on the door but quickly thought the better of it. She knew exactly how that one would play out. She would knock. He would ask "who is it?" and her breath would catch in her throat before answering "Misty" as best she could. After that things would be hopeless.
Instead she bent over and slipped the pearly white enveloped under the door and turned to walk away before he decided to investigate his visitor or whatever it was he would do.
It was better this way. At least this way she could hold onto her hope and keep pretending that things would turn out for the best in the end.
But there was still a part of her that thought it knew better than to hang onto the flimsy strand of hope she willed herself to grasp. It was the part of her that kept replaying the hatred in his chocolate brown eyes, the part that kept reminding her of the icy anger in his voice.
It was the so-called 'logical' part of her that always held her back; that always thought it knew better. It was the part that had given up, the part that had never truly believed to begin with.
But Misty had stopped listening.
"It's not fair!" he cried out mournfully.
"Now James, dear," Jesse replied trying desperately to reason with her oddly distraught husband. "We did our best."
They had just got the news. Yet another of their beautifully crafted 'Rocket Schemes' had failed.
This was probably worse than all of their other failures put together because they weren't the ones suffering the consequences of their failure. They had wanted so badly for this plan to work, well actually to work itself out but it was useless.
"But the tickets!" James cried out now in distress. "The beautiful tickets! Oh the beautiful tickets! What a waste? Oh, what a waste? Those beautiful tickets, gone to waste, lost forever!"
"James," Jesse said in a calm yet commanding tone that made him stop his mad rambles. He turned to her with a questioning look and she let out a single word in the same tone, "breath."
James did as he was told as she paced across the room in deep thought.
"Now we've got to think positively," she said pointedly as she walked past him. "Remember it's not over till the fat lady sings. There's still a chance things will work out for the best.
"Squinty eyes said Misty gave him the tickets . . ."
"No!" James cried. "Now they really are wasted. Why me? Oh why me? Now I'll never see them again. Oh Shane! Oh Kian! Oh Brian and Nicky and Mark!"
"Pull yourself together damn it!" she instructed. "There are more important matters at hand than some dumb ticket James. They're not even that great a band!"
James gasped loudly and let his jaw drop open. "You didn't just say that?" he asked desperately. "Please tell me you didn't just say that."
"Look James, I'm sorry alright," she explained dropping exasperatedly to the couch beside him. "I guess I'm just really stressed about this. Everything is just so messed up and I can't help but think that a tiny little bit of it just might be my fault."
"You think?"
Jesse turned to him with her eyes ablaze making him huddle back in fear. He sighed as he realized it was a definite hint for him to do the husband-y thing. To be compassionate, understanding and basically lie to her face.
"Jesse," he said calmly in a sensible tone that really just wasn't meant to be in the same room as those two, "you can't tear yourself up inside about this. What's done is done and there really isn't anybody to blame. All we can do is hope for the best and pray that somebody will knock some sense into the twerps thick little head before it's too late."
"Thank you," she said as she gave him a quick kiss and got up to leave the room. "By the way," she added almost as an after thought, "you're sleeping on the couch tonight."
"Why can't I just keep my big mouth shut?" he muttered with a sigh as he slouched back into what was to be his bed for the night. "And they are a good band!"
Ash stared up at the ceiling as though it were the most interesting thing in his single bedroom at the Pokemon Centre.
He hated the room and everything about it with every fibre in his being. And it wasn't just his regular indiscriminate hating of rooms because they made him felt trapped and separated from the outside world, no this room was particularly loathe worthy.
For starters, it was a lot smaller than the rooms he was used to staying in which made him feel even more like a caged animal. But most importantly, it's single-bed-ness merely continued to remind him of what he had lost. To taunt him with his naïve idiocy and whatever inanity had led him to believe that she could ever love him.
Emotions raged within him like an ocean . . . no, not an ocean. Anything but an ocean. An ocean only continued to remind him, to taunt him, to mock him, to pity him and tease him.
She was like an ocean. Wild and free and completely overpowering . . . no, he had to stop thinking like that. He had to forget her. He just had to forget . . .
Or the ocean below maidens peak . . . the first time he realized how beautiful she was. He remembered everything about her from the way her hair fell around her face framing it in all her beauty to the way the moonlight caught her eyes making them sparkle so brightly that all the stars seemed to dim in comparison. It was such a beautiful night . . .
And the ocean that surrounded all of the Orange Islands, where they had travelled together. Where they had become so close it seemed as though there souls would be forever intertwined. How wrong could he have been?
Shamouti Island. There she had saved him from the raging sea, from another ocean. She had risked her own life for his, but it wasn't the first time . . .
Water. She was water. Ocean. Sea. River. Lake. Stream. Waterfall . . .
She saved his life. The Gym. Cascade. Starmie. Psyduck. Staryu. A Battle. Swimming. Water ballet. Grace. Beauty. Strength. Aquamarine, eyes the colour of the sea. Eyes he could never forget. Eyes he loved.
A smile . . .
A tear . . .
Goodbye . . .
It was out of control. He just couldn't stop thinking about her. Everything just reminded him of her. It was like every time he thought he could forget another memory just came along to show him otherwise.
He couldn't think; he couldn't sleep; he couldn't eat. He couldn't breath without her and that was probably what scared him the most.
Damn it, why hadn't he been able to catch himself? He'd known he was falling for her, or at least part of him did, the rest wasn't' quite read to admit it. Why couldn't he have stopped it? Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it be someone else, anyone else?
But how could you not fall in love with her? She was smart, beautiful, assertive, honest, caring, outgoing, adventurous, funny . . .
'STOP IT!' he yelled in his mind making all thoughts of her come to a halt.
It was all so impossible. He couldn't stop thinking about her, not even for a second no matter how hard he tried.
And he could sense her too. He could feel her presence no matter where he went. It was like something in his mind clicked into place making him feel more at ease and letting him know she was just beyond his door.
It was as if every memory he had, had come together to hold onto the image of her he kept in his heart. He wasn't even sure if what he felt was real, but it seemed real enough to him.
Like the remnants of a dream he could smell her, feel her, hear her almost as though she was still with him now. It seemed to all call out to him reaching to him through the terrors of reality, comforting him in his heartache.
Her rich scent surrounded him, enveloping him in a warm blanket of content. He breathed in deeply, savouring each breath as if it were his last. He smiled to himself; she was like spring only for eternity, never ending, always fresh, always beautiful.
Her footsteps along the hallway lulled him to sleep like a lullaby. The gentle footfalls padded gracefully against the hardwood floors of the deep abysses of his mind seeming more like some incredible dance than the mere act of walking.
But it was more than just that. He just knew she was there, that she was more than just a dream or figment of a cruel imagination. It was some indescribable sentiment that stirred up emotions and images and sounds and smells and tastes and textures which only served to give his mind more proof of something his heart had known all along; there was no getting over Misty Waterflower.
He let out a sad sigh as the conclusion sunk in, taunting him incessantly just as every other thought that had crossed his mind in the past 36 hours had. In short, he was screwed.
His melancholy thoughts were soon interrupted, though, by a scuff of paper against the floor quickly followed by those familiar footfalls. But he would have known the identity of the letters sender even without them. Heck, he would have recognized it even without the delicate handwriting spelling out his name.
It was that feeling again. He just knew.
He turned the letter over in his hands debating whether or not he wanted to read it; whether or not he really wanted to rehash the same heartache he had felt the previous morning.
Finally he sighed and put the letter to one side.
'Maybe later,' he thought sadly to himself as he stared at the dark clouds outside reflecting his mood. I guess he just wasn't ready to face the truth yet no matter what it had to say.
to be continued
Hope you enjoyed that chapter. Somehow I managed to get this one up sooner which is a huge shock to me so I hope you all appreciate it.
Only one more chapter left to go and for those of you who want to know, I am trying to work on 'Angels' but it may be a while till the next update.
Review.