Well, it's chapter 8 time. For once I've not got much to say, other than a
big big apology for the long delay. Too much going on, not enough hours in
the day, and periodic losses of motivation have accounted for a two-month
gap, which is a bit long even by my standards ^_^;
Big thanks to all reviewers, you're all absolutely brilliant and put a big smile on my face. And special thanks Cultnirvana who continues to make sure that this story is actually legible, in between listening to me rant MSN and trying to stop her cats eating her dinner!
Okay, on with the story.
Where the River Flows - Chapter VIII
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My eyes creak open, heavy lids wrenched apart by the crowbar that is the sun, shining through the trees. Just a thin shaft of light striking the clearing, but enough to awaken me. I know that this morning will not be a happy one, and as of yet, I can't for the life of me work out why. It just seems that my body is coated by lead, and however much sleep I've had, it's not been enough. Like a patient awakening from a coma, I cautiously move each part of me in turn. So far so good. Next, to turn over. Turning, and a glimpse of blazing blue sky, sliding in, and then out of sight. Now, turn complete. I can see a back. Ash's back. Slumped forward, head bowed, in front of a long dead fire. It strikes a familiar note, deja-vu of something. Of course, this was the last thing I saw last night. Last night.....
("Ohhh, oh no.....") My own voice shocks me with it's presence as I groan, the veil of early-morning amnesia drawn away from my eyes. Last night, last night, I can't find words in this sleep-drugged brain to describe it. Best if I don't try then. I cast another glance around the site. Hazel, she went through so much. I couldn't believe what she told us. But it was all true, it must have been. No-one could seem so torn and withered, so emotionally scarred while telling lies. I scan around - Misty, god knows what she thinks really. But her and Chikorita, what was all that about? So far as I can see it, there wasn't any point in their argument. Chikorita went off at a little thing, it was more Misty letting off steam than really suggesting we abandon Hazel. Sight settles on the third figure, leaf drooping down over her face. I simply don't know why she reacted. And it wasn't even me she was reacting to, I've never known her to try and scream Misty down. Finally, Ash. Sleeping now. When his head was bowed last night, all I wanted was to go and crawl into his lap. He wouldn't confide in me. Why? He has always, always believed in my help. When it's been the last chance saloon for us both, we've turned to one another and been able to get through. And, of all the events that have happened until now, it's the one that has burnt me the most.
Hold on.
Me, Ash, Misty, Hazel, Chikorita.....
Cyndaquil?
I spring to my feet, nearly overbalancing. Another scan of the area. Nope. I nearly panic, but force myself to calm down. My ears did catch one thing that Cyndaquil whispered to Ash, late last night. 'I promise.' I think that now I know what he meant, but I wish to be sure. And only one way to do that. I stumble over to the sleeping figure and nudge him awake.
"Hmmm?" Chocolate eyes flutter open, followed by his mouth which expells a huge yawn. "What time is it?" I shrug bluntly.
("Dunno. Don't have a watch.") I watch Ash stretch his back, eyes shutting again as a cacophony of clicks signal his spine returning to normal position. The lids part again, revealing orbs now tainted with sadness. He's remembered too. Unsurprising. I can see moisture swimming around the corners of those eyes, and feel tempted to pursue him about, well, him, but it's not the time or the place. He seems to notice my silence, as he fixes on me with a gentle gaze.
"Something troubling you?" I snap off the urge to answer either 'Yes, you' or 'shouldn't I be asking that?' And just nod.
("Where's Cyndaquil?") He begins to look around in mock-surprise, but I shake my head definitely to stop him. ("Don't try the 'what do you mean' line, he's not here, and I know you know why.") He looks uncertain, so I sigh in annoyance. ("Put it this way, any of the others, even Hazel, will ask within five seconds of noticing, and all of them are guaranteed to be in a real dynamite mood this morning. Wouldn't you want me backing you up?")
"Yeah, I guess so." He takes a deep breath, looking away from me. "He told me he needed a little time to find himself, a little room to work it out. He doesn't hate us, not any of us, it's just he couldn't take the tension any more." His voice softens as he speaks, both out of memory and out empathy. After so long with him at my side, I don't need to think about how he acts and speaks. The tiniest gesture speaks volumes. But then again, the little voice of the mind says, in it's usual sarcastic chirp, why did it take you so long to notice?
("Why do you seem to understand what he's talking about so well?") My tone is harder than I wanted it to be, bitter edge provided by both Ash's refusal to talk to me and at the realisation that I haven't been listening anyway.
"Hey, I've been under pressure before, so has everyone." My lip is being bitten frantically to stop myself from screaming at him. So lackadasical in tone, yet so obvious in manner. He might realise that he's not fooling me, in fact I'm sure he does. Thing is, I don't know what to do. To push, or to yield. Maybe I'll try another little prod, see if I can get a reaction.
("I don't know if you've ever had to live with this sort before.") Lame. Totally lame.
"Stress is stress. It's not a problem." Ash gets up slowly, easing out the knots in his body. Jesus, next time I'm going for the direct route, the softly-softly approach isn't working worth a damn. He reaches down to me, and scratches my head. "Pikachu, could you tell me where the river is? I want to get washed, but I've lost my bearings." I nod silently, trying not to allow his touch to relax me. A twitch of the ears and I pick up the sounds of running water.
("Over that way.") I point a forepaw in the direction Cyndaquil left, and he gives a simple 'thanks' in return as he strolls off. Crap. Why didn't I ask him what I wanted to know straight out? Why hadn't I asked him how he was before now? Answer one, because I'm a coward. Answer two, because I'm self-centred. I'm one bundle of joy this morning, aren't I? Ahhh, shut up Pikachu. No point in wallowing in self-pity and despair. Even if I close the curtains on the world for a while, when I draw them again, the same world will again greet my sight.
"Uhnnnn....." But that doesn't mean I want to be here when Misty wakes up. I think I'll join Ash at the river, better that than face her first thing in the morning! I scamper out of the clearing, heading for the sound of splashing water. Maybe, just maybe, if Ash is leaning over the river, I could give him a full body wash, that'll be sure to wake him up at this time of the morning. All it needs is a little nudge in the right place to set the ball rolling, to coin a phrase.
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I just about raised a smile when Ash and Pikachu trailed into the camp, not long after I'd awoken, arguing humorously and both soaking wet. Something about Pikachu being a sneak and a trickster, and Ash being just as bad. But apart from that, smiles have been extremely thin on the ground this morning. Misty and Hazel have both been stony-faced, and I was shocked to find that my fears over Cyndaquil were justified. At least he won't be gone too long, I hope.
"Ladies, we've got another fifteen minutes, then we're out of here, okay?" I nod silently, glancing around. I've not got much to do, so I think I'll go get a drink. Since Ash and Pikachu got wet from going that way, I'm guessing that's where the water is. I stroll off into the undergrowth, and before long, emerge at the side of the river. So far, I've done almost everything possible in various parts of this river, swam in it, washed in it, drank from it, even fished just once (well Ash fished, I was moral support). I hear the crash of a bush being parted at speed on the other bank, and look up to see a small figure move out of sight. Was it.....him? Well, I'm not going to be able to find out, so may as well forget it.
"Oh, hi....." Hazel's voice from just behind me stuns me into spinning around, resulting in a guilty look on her face. "Sorry, I'll come back in a minute." Her loose grey t-shirt whips up as she turns, ready to make off back to the camp.
("No, there's no need to go.") I shuffle a few feet upstream, allowing Hazel to take a place on the bank. She kneels gently, puts her peach towel to one side, slips the shirt daintily over her head and off, places her hands gingerly on the water's edge, and then dispenses with subtelty, thrusting her whole head into the cold water. I take a short drink as she holds it there, watching curiously. That's twenty seconds, twenty five, thir-
"Ahhhh, that's cold!" The words echo loud across the river as her head re- appears, water draining off it and her hair, now almost black in colour, plastered across her face. She sweeps it out of the way, sits back onto her haunches and closes her eyes as if concentrating for a moment. Then a sigh, and a shrug of the shoulders. "Nope, didn't work." Pushing the sopping hair further out of her eyes, she picks up the towel and starts to dry off the excess water.
("What were you expecting it to do?") My interested voice causes a pause in the frantic rubbing, before Hazel responds from amidst the mangled heap of towel and hair which is totally concealing her face.
"Get rid of my headache. Sometimes a short sharp shock is the way to do it." She starts scrubbing her scalp again, with less vigour. "But sometimes it makes it worse, and I think today is one of those days." She slides down to a sitting position and lets go of the towel, allowing it to hang down over her head like some peach hood. Now it's stopped flailing around, I recognise the pattern on the towel itself. Looks like the Pokemon center we recently left is going to have to budget for an extra one this year, since I can't see Hazel taking it back.
("I tend to find doing nothing is the best idea.") I don't know if she's listening to me, but better hearing my own voice than silence.
"That's not going to be a choice today, Ash is planning to cover ten miles by this evening. This will be one fun trip." She mutters cynically, still gazing at nothing.
("True.") I reply. And now silence. I think I'll be heading back.....
"Is it my fault that Cyndaquil left?" The question takes me by total surprise. I gaze at Hazel, mouth gaping like a stunned magikarp out of water. She thinks it's all down to her? Why? She must take my silence as agreement, because she lets her head drop and shoulders sag. "I knew it was, soon as I found out. Not surprised, I wouldn't want to be around me either." Her tone is so miserable that I almost want to slap her purple. There's just that inbuilt feeling sometimes, when someone is so sunk in the depths of despair, that I want to kick them for being so damn miserable. But the desire passes in a flash, being replaced by pity. If anyone is allowed to sink like this it's her.
("No no, I'm more at fault than you are. It's not down to you, really.")
"Yeah, right." She sags more, appearing to gaze at the water. "I've caused so much trouble, it would've been better if I'd stayed in Cerulean city after all." That sparks me into life.
("No! No, no, NO! You should never, ever blame yourself! Not for that! Never!") The passion and fervour empowering my voice stuns even me. But then again, this sort of story strikes such a resonant chord in me, I couldn't even pretend to be indifferent.
"But why? I mean, I've not been good to anyone, Misty hates me, Cyndaquil has left, and now they all know I'm an unwanted piece of crap." Bitterness, destructive as acid, yet fragile as glass, rides deep in her tone. No way. No goddamn way. No way in the hottest fires of hell am I letting it pass me by,
("Bullshit! I know where you're coming from, and I know you're parents are your parents! They're not YOU!") As I scream the last word, she finally turns to face me. Her eyes are so shaken, it's almost like they're haunted. Haunted by a malevolent spirit, that of her father. Well I've got news for that fucker. I'm coming with the crucifix to Cerulean City, and I'm going to banish him for good. Starting now.
"But....." Hazel's hollow voice falters, unable to find words.
("Never, ever believe you deserved what you got. Sometimes those who are meant to be your elders and betters are ignorant, sometimes they're choking, sometimes they're straight out bastards!") Seeing her tear laced face I soften my tone from barking denouncements, right down to just a subtle stroking of sound. ("I don't expect you to understand this now. In many ways I still don't. But what you're told you are and who you really are is never the same. If I say to you 'Who are you?' and you can answer me without saying what anyone else thinks, you're free. Just try to realise that who you are and who you're made out to be aren't the same for now.") I've shocked myself with the depth and philosophy of that speech, but I can see some of it making sense to Hazel. After a few moments, she nods.
"Okay, okay. I'll try to think about it." She turns to stare at the river again, and for a moment I think she's going to question me, why I seem to understand. Deep down, I seem to want her to. But no, she just sighs and hesitantly gets up. "The others must be waiting. C'mon, let's get back." There's still a waver in her voice, and I shake my head.
("No. You don't want anyone asking 'what's happened', 'what's wrong' and 'are you alright' at this time of the morning. Stay here a minute, wipe those tears you've tried to ignore away and calm down. Besides, don't know about you, but I can't handle cross-questioning after half a night of sleep.") She cranes around so she can see me, and smiles.
"I guess. So, anything you feel like chatting about." Yes, my mind screams. How about me? But I still have veto over my mind, at least for the moment.
("Did I ever tell you about the time that Misty ran into Ash bathing naked in a stream, but for some reason decided to, well, hide up a tree and watch?") Gawd, that's a story of legend, and it's still as funny now as when it actually happened.
"No! Sounds good though." Hazel settles down to look at me while I grin slyly. Well, maybe it's not quite as funny now as when it happened, but at the time it was 10 on the Richter scale of laughter. Now it's only 9.5.
("Well.") I get comfortable, and put on the traditional voice used when delivering as funny story, as Hazel listens entranced. ("It all started on one tuesday, when Ash told Misty he was going to have a swim. He forgot the towel, so Misty, having found it, followed him a few minutes later to give it to him.....")
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I hate my hair. It keeps draping, a dark orange curtain, across my vision. Escaping any attempt I make to trap it and hold it down with consummate ease. It was bad enough at the start of the day, but now nearing evening it's sweaty, grimy and clumped together, whipping my cheeks like a cat o' nine tails with every step, leaving greasy streaks with each contact. Not only that, but the bag grows heavier on my back, my legs are growing leaden and my stomach is growling with hunger. I wish I'd had more lunch. I wish I'd had lunch. Just any food, anything. No, don't be tempted so easily, at least wait for tonight. It's much easier at night to sneak away. I hate the silence too, it's thicker and more oppressive than the damn heat. I hate the incessant chirping of insects. I hate the bastard nettles that stung my ankle this morning. I hate my ankle for stinging. I hate the sun, I hate the trees, I hate the dirt, I hate every-damn-thing!
"That's it! I've had enough!" I try to scream my protest to the world, but all that emerges is a rather dry croak. Still, it's heard by the others, who stop and turn to me. Wearing expressions from surprise to annoyance, but all with a tone of exhaustion.
"We've still got a bit to go, Misty. I don't want you being late arriving in Cerulean." Shit, if Ash sounded any more reasonable he'd have to take up priesthood. And I'm not at home to Mister Reasonable this afternoon, no matter how hard he knocks on the door.
"I don't care! I'm worn out, my ankle is killing me, my shoulders are aching and my hair is a mess!" I spy a boulder nearby, and go over to sit on it, placing emphasis on the sigh of relief as I do so.
("Well, I'm up for a break.") Pikachu agrees, slumping down on a patch of grass.
"Me too." Hazel mutters, sagging against a tree trunk and fishing something from her backpack. A water bottle emerges in her grasp, and she drains the last of her drink. Amazing how two people can avoid eye contact for a whole day to avoid what they don't want to see.
"Well, I guess it can't hurt." Ash gives in, albeit reluctantly, sliding his heavy load from his shoulders. Chikorita spies a prime patch of clover among the brush and bare earth, and settles on it carefully.
"Sheez, whose idea was it to come out in the height of summer anyway?" An unusually whiny statement for me, but I can't be bothered hiding it.
"Yours." Ash replies over his shoulder, disappearing into the heat haze and bushes, presumably to deal with some private business. For a second I entertain the idea of following him, but dismiss it. I've already been, well, humiliated from trying to spy on him from a tree. My fault, but hey, a girl can be curious, right?
"Anyone know where I can find some water?" Hazel asks the group, but only gets a shrug from Pikachu and a sleepy grunt from Chikorita, who is already dozing off. Without looking up I grasp my water canteen and lob it in her direction. A muttered word of thanks is all I receive, followed by the noise of rapid drinking.
("I've had enough for today.") Pikachu groans, turning over onto her side and shutting her eyes. Very quickly her breathing slows into the tidal in- out of sleep. Leaving myself and Hazel. I glance up, just in time to see her look away. For some reason, I can't really work out now why our animosity started. I think I had lots of reasons, mostly little and petty. She had her reason, and, when I think about it, that was really quite petty. No, very petty. She ended up with a tough life. Some do, mine wasn't exactly a bed of roses either, up until her age. And yeah, no-one should have to go through what she did. But what is petty is that she tries to take it out on me. Blame me. Me. I was what, six, seven when that happened? So what the hell does it have to do with me? I'm just someone to take it out on, a lightning rod for her storm. As far as I'm concerned, she owes me an apology. Maybe then we can work out our differences. Maybe.
"I think Ash is coming back." Thanks for the information Hazel, although the fact I can hear him is a bit of a clue.
"I'm going for a quick walk." Anywhere, just to get away from the tension. I turn and head off in the opposite direction Ash went, not really caring where I'm actually going. Away from everyone else is enough. Just a minute of walking, slow and careful, looking at my feet. Now, I think I'm far enough away. So that, as I drop to my knees and pound the very earth with my fists, it can't be heard. Blind fury, trapped without direction, emerging through my hands. My eyes stare into the ground blankly, unseeing. My mouth fights the urge to scream. I don't feel my knuckles grow sore, the smooth skin inflamed and then broken. Blinding white clouds of anger, occluding every sense. The smell of sweat, dust, the taste of blood from a bitten lip, the scorching pain of my tired arms and blistered fingers, all ignored. Almost as if they were not there. There is nothing but emotion. Until the real world finds a way to re-enter. Dust, thrown up from my incessant pounding of the dry earth, reaches my nose and mouth. As I gasp for air, it is drawn down deep into my throat and lungs. The itching sensation does what pain could not, and draws me from my rage into a fit of coughing. Breath caught in my chest, choking on the very air. Slowly, painfully, I clear the irritation. And ease back into reality, and so the agony. I raise a shaking hand to my face and gaze at it with wide eyes. Blood seeps from the ruined mess of my nuckles, a small fragment of stone embedded into my palm. My mouth throbs, lip oozing a metallic taste. And I'm scared, scared as a lone child in a graveyard at midnight. Such anger, bitterness, and I couldn't control it. No control, no control over myself. It's like I'm being drawn along with the current, my future out of my own grasp. Sight travels up along my arm, then down my torso. Yes, I do have control. I've proven it, shedding unsightly parts of me. One mauled hand moves down to my stomach, and I pinch the skin. Yes. there is less than before. My diet and restrictions are working. If I can control my body, I can control my mind. The shrinking of my stomach over but a few weeks has been a victory, and proof of my dominance over myself. Mind seemingly clearer, I drag myself up to my feet. I repeat three words, time and time again under my breath. 'I'm in control'. Yet anger still rises unbidden, and I accept the urge to lash out at a nearby sapling, kicking it hard. Another bruise to add to those on my hands. Swearing profusely I turn away, but just catch a flash of movement as I do so. I turn back to face whatever it was that was spying on me. And this time, I do scream.
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Hazel is dozing off now, to join the Pokemon in slumber land. Leaving me waiting for Misty. Not that I mind that, but it'd be nice for someone else to at least make the effort of keeping me company. Cyndaquil, I never realised how much I'd miss him, really. I wonder how he is getting on? I know he'll return to us someday soon, but I do wish he was here with me right this moment. Although it is nice to maybe have time for my thoughts for once. A wrenching, piercing scream tears through that idea. Misty! I bolt off in the direction of the noise, ignoring the branches and leaves whipping my face. A flash of red catches the eye, and I burst in to see Misty stood in a frozen trance, her petrified stare being returned by..... a Caterpie. Admittedly an angry looking Caterpie, but still a Caterpie. I don't know whether to be amused or pissed. I'm still trying to work out which when it decides that whatever reason it came out for in the first place isn't worth any more of it's time, and crawls up the trunk and into the leaves, out of sight. Misty stands stock still for a moment longer, and then shakes herself into reality.
"Are you okay, Misty?" And that innocent query makes her jump higher than she would if she'd got a Caterpie in her underwear.
"Jesus Ash! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" She spins around, normally pale cheeks wearing a hot blush.
"Sorry, I just....." Misty breaks me off with a harsh tone.
"I could've been doing anything! You just barged in on me!" Any humor left from the Caterpie moment has evaporated in the face of Misty's scathing attack. Leaving anger, and the amount isn't getting any smaller. "I came out here to get some privacy! You can't just follow me, there are things about me you shouldn't know! Not to mention things you shouldn't see! Sheez, I could've been stark naked for all you knew!" I've had enough.
"This coming from the 'lady' who spied on me bathing from a tree?! That's rich!" My growled retort stuns Misty, I don't think she expected a reply. But it lasts only a second, her usually tranquil aqua gaze narrowing into a searing stare, tinged with venom.
"It's different for girls! I didn't ask for you to be here. So you shouldn't be, what I do on my own is my business, and mine alone." I give a derisory chuckle.
"So next time I hear a friend scream, I'm not allowed to worry?! You want me to just ignore it?" Again her eyes flash, and through the descending red mist I sense that logic has just left the building.
"It wasn't anything really dangerous!"
"How the hell was I to know?! You don't have one fucking scream for 'it's nothing really' and another for 'I'm in mortal danger' do you!" My voice raises to a shout, as I can't resist the frustration any more.
"Well next time, just don't bother!" She screams back, throwing her arms in the air. And I catch sight of blood.
"What the hell is wrong with your hands?" Soon as I say the words she withdraws them from view, but not after I've had a longer look. And I'm scared by what I see.
"Nothing." In a heartbeat, Misty's manner has gone from flaring anger to something almost worse. A pose reminiscent of a lost child, confused and fearful. I don't understand why, same as I don't understand why her hands are in such a state. All I do know is it worries me, a chill of fear penetrating deep down into my bones.
"Doesn't look like nothing to me."
"Forget it." Trying to be dismissive, Misty shakes her head and shrugs. No way am I taking that for an answer.
"Come on, let me take a look at it." I say gently, reaching for her arm. It's drawn away with lightning speed.
"I said it's nothing!" She yells, returning to using anger as her defence. But I can see her eyes glistening, hear her voice quavering. Yet again, I'm stuck between anger and worry. The same quandary, time after time, for too long now.
"It's not nothing, let me see." I move closer, expecting her to retreat, turn her back, even try to escape. I don't expect the shove that plants me on my back, sending up a cloud of tan shaded dust. I raise myself up on my elbows, seeing the same shock I feel at the assault emerging on Misty's face. I know she doesn't know why she just did what she did. Yet once again adrenaline brings anger to the fore. I scramble to my feet and glare at my friend, blank fury taking hold.
"Ahhhh, well, uh, sorry." Misty stutters, taking a defensive step back. I take a step forwards.
"Why the hell did you do that?!" I can feel my fingers curl, my mouth form a snarl. I would never attack Misty, never. But I'm too tired to fight this reaction, the shock and surprise.
"I-I don't know." She turns her head away, but not before I see a drop of liquid flowing down her face, glistening as it catches the few shards of sun breaking through the canopy. It slaps me out of my annoyance with more effect than a hand ever could.
"Something isn't right, I can tell. Let me see if I can help. Please?" The pleading in my words chimes clear as a bell, but she's not heeding it's call.
"No, leave me be. I'm fine." Lies spoken with a voice shaking as a leaf on the breeze.
"Misty....." She rounds on me, this time ignoring the free-flowing fluid washing from her wild eyes.
"Won't you just Go Away?! Get lost, move on, piss off, however you want to put it I don't care, but I don't want you here! You're on me like some snake, squeezing and choking me more and more! The sight of you is driving me mad!" That hurt. That really did hurt. I'm afraid that if I try to speak I'll start sobbing. So I can't even try to interrupt Misty's flaming tirade, while fingers of ice squeeze my heart tighter with each blasphemous word. "I said I was fine, so listen! Don't keep creeping closer like some demented stalker just itching to possess me. Just get out of my sight, out of my mind, my space, my face!" This time I'm the one to turn away, fighting a losing battle to control my jaw. Every note rains down like a blow, and I've no strength left to withstand such an assault. "Do you think that you've got special dispensation to be my shadow? Some sort of privilege to see every part of me? No? Well then, why don't you do me a favour, and fuck off out of my life!" I have to squeeze my eyelids tightly shut as she barks the last few words, with a tone of contempt and disgust I've never heard grace her melodious voice before. It reminded me of a glass breaking, of something that once was never being the same again. For some time, all that can be heard is her ragged breathing gently easing, until it is inaudible. Only then do I turn around again, once I feel like I have some control over my face. Her cheeks are burning red, still damp and dirty, eyes smouldering. And my control is rapidly evaporating.
"Okay, I'll go." I honestly wouldn't know it was I who were saying these words if I were to hear them again. My voice is rough and desperate, little more than a choking whisper. And I can't say any more. I let my face drop, long fringe shielding my eyes from her view, and start to walk away.
"Ash....." I pause, and look back over my shoulder. Misty is still stood in the same place, but her aqua orbs have changed from portrayers of boiling fury into viscid pools of despair. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing emerges. I hold her gaze for just a heartbeat longer, but then turn away again.
"I understand Misty. I'll leave you be for tonight. See you tomorrow." With that gravely statement, I'm off into the trees, leaving her standing alone and silent. While I look for a place this evening, when the night is drawing in, where I can cry myself to sleep unheard.
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Well, that's all for now. See you sooner next time (Hopefully)!
Dan
Big thanks to all reviewers, you're all absolutely brilliant and put a big smile on my face. And special thanks Cultnirvana who continues to make sure that this story is actually legible, in between listening to me rant MSN and trying to stop her cats eating her dinner!
Okay, on with the story.
Where the River Flows - Chapter VIII
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My eyes creak open, heavy lids wrenched apart by the crowbar that is the sun, shining through the trees. Just a thin shaft of light striking the clearing, but enough to awaken me. I know that this morning will not be a happy one, and as of yet, I can't for the life of me work out why. It just seems that my body is coated by lead, and however much sleep I've had, it's not been enough. Like a patient awakening from a coma, I cautiously move each part of me in turn. So far so good. Next, to turn over. Turning, and a glimpse of blazing blue sky, sliding in, and then out of sight. Now, turn complete. I can see a back. Ash's back. Slumped forward, head bowed, in front of a long dead fire. It strikes a familiar note, deja-vu of something. Of course, this was the last thing I saw last night. Last night.....
("Ohhh, oh no.....") My own voice shocks me with it's presence as I groan, the veil of early-morning amnesia drawn away from my eyes. Last night, last night, I can't find words in this sleep-drugged brain to describe it. Best if I don't try then. I cast another glance around the site. Hazel, she went through so much. I couldn't believe what she told us. But it was all true, it must have been. No-one could seem so torn and withered, so emotionally scarred while telling lies. I scan around - Misty, god knows what she thinks really. But her and Chikorita, what was all that about? So far as I can see it, there wasn't any point in their argument. Chikorita went off at a little thing, it was more Misty letting off steam than really suggesting we abandon Hazel. Sight settles on the third figure, leaf drooping down over her face. I simply don't know why she reacted. And it wasn't even me she was reacting to, I've never known her to try and scream Misty down. Finally, Ash. Sleeping now. When his head was bowed last night, all I wanted was to go and crawl into his lap. He wouldn't confide in me. Why? He has always, always believed in my help. When it's been the last chance saloon for us both, we've turned to one another and been able to get through. And, of all the events that have happened until now, it's the one that has burnt me the most.
Hold on.
Me, Ash, Misty, Hazel, Chikorita.....
Cyndaquil?
I spring to my feet, nearly overbalancing. Another scan of the area. Nope. I nearly panic, but force myself to calm down. My ears did catch one thing that Cyndaquil whispered to Ash, late last night. 'I promise.' I think that now I know what he meant, but I wish to be sure. And only one way to do that. I stumble over to the sleeping figure and nudge him awake.
"Hmmm?" Chocolate eyes flutter open, followed by his mouth which expells a huge yawn. "What time is it?" I shrug bluntly.
("Dunno. Don't have a watch.") I watch Ash stretch his back, eyes shutting again as a cacophony of clicks signal his spine returning to normal position. The lids part again, revealing orbs now tainted with sadness. He's remembered too. Unsurprising. I can see moisture swimming around the corners of those eyes, and feel tempted to pursue him about, well, him, but it's not the time or the place. He seems to notice my silence, as he fixes on me with a gentle gaze.
"Something troubling you?" I snap off the urge to answer either 'Yes, you' or 'shouldn't I be asking that?' And just nod.
("Where's Cyndaquil?") He begins to look around in mock-surprise, but I shake my head definitely to stop him. ("Don't try the 'what do you mean' line, he's not here, and I know you know why.") He looks uncertain, so I sigh in annoyance. ("Put it this way, any of the others, even Hazel, will ask within five seconds of noticing, and all of them are guaranteed to be in a real dynamite mood this morning. Wouldn't you want me backing you up?")
"Yeah, I guess so." He takes a deep breath, looking away from me. "He told me he needed a little time to find himself, a little room to work it out. He doesn't hate us, not any of us, it's just he couldn't take the tension any more." His voice softens as he speaks, both out of memory and out empathy. After so long with him at my side, I don't need to think about how he acts and speaks. The tiniest gesture speaks volumes. But then again, the little voice of the mind says, in it's usual sarcastic chirp, why did it take you so long to notice?
("Why do you seem to understand what he's talking about so well?") My tone is harder than I wanted it to be, bitter edge provided by both Ash's refusal to talk to me and at the realisation that I haven't been listening anyway.
"Hey, I've been under pressure before, so has everyone." My lip is being bitten frantically to stop myself from screaming at him. So lackadasical in tone, yet so obvious in manner. He might realise that he's not fooling me, in fact I'm sure he does. Thing is, I don't know what to do. To push, or to yield. Maybe I'll try another little prod, see if I can get a reaction.
("I don't know if you've ever had to live with this sort before.") Lame. Totally lame.
"Stress is stress. It's not a problem." Ash gets up slowly, easing out the knots in his body. Jesus, next time I'm going for the direct route, the softly-softly approach isn't working worth a damn. He reaches down to me, and scratches my head. "Pikachu, could you tell me where the river is? I want to get washed, but I've lost my bearings." I nod silently, trying not to allow his touch to relax me. A twitch of the ears and I pick up the sounds of running water.
("Over that way.") I point a forepaw in the direction Cyndaquil left, and he gives a simple 'thanks' in return as he strolls off. Crap. Why didn't I ask him what I wanted to know straight out? Why hadn't I asked him how he was before now? Answer one, because I'm a coward. Answer two, because I'm self-centred. I'm one bundle of joy this morning, aren't I? Ahhh, shut up Pikachu. No point in wallowing in self-pity and despair. Even if I close the curtains on the world for a while, when I draw them again, the same world will again greet my sight.
"Uhnnnn....." But that doesn't mean I want to be here when Misty wakes up. I think I'll join Ash at the river, better that than face her first thing in the morning! I scamper out of the clearing, heading for the sound of splashing water. Maybe, just maybe, if Ash is leaning over the river, I could give him a full body wash, that'll be sure to wake him up at this time of the morning. All it needs is a little nudge in the right place to set the ball rolling, to coin a phrase.
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I just about raised a smile when Ash and Pikachu trailed into the camp, not long after I'd awoken, arguing humorously and both soaking wet. Something about Pikachu being a sneak and a trickster, and Ash being just as bad. But apart from that, smiles have been extremely thin on the ground this morning. Misty and Hazel have both been stony-faced, and I was shocked to find that my fears over Cyndaquil were justified. At least he won't be gone too long, I hope.
"Ladies, we've got another fifteen minutes, then we're out of here, okay?" I nod silently, glancing around. I've not got much to do, so I think I'll go get a drink. Since Ash and Pikachu got wet from going that way, I'm guessing that's where the water is. I stroll off into the undergrowth, and before long, emerge at the side of the river. So far, I've done almost everything possible in various parts of this river, swam in it, washed in it, drank from it, even fished just once (well Ash fished, I was moral support). I hear the crash of a bush being parted at speed on the other bank, and look up to see a small figure move out of sight. Was it.....him? Well, I'm not going to be able to find out, so may as well forget it.
"Oh, hi....." Hazel's voice from just behind me stuns me into spinning around, resulting in a guilty look on her face. "Sorry, I'll come back in a minute." Her loose grey t-shirt whips up as she turns, ready to make off back to the camp.
("No, there's no need to go.") I shuffle a few feet upstream, allowing Hazel to take a place on the bank. She kneels gently, puts her peach towel to one side, slips the shirt daintily over her head and off, places her hands gingerly on the water's edge, and then dispenses with subtelty, thrusting her whole head into the cold water. I take a short drink as she holds it there, watching curiously. That's twenty seconds, twenty five, thir-
"Ahhhh, that's cold!" The words echo loud across the river as her head re- appears, water draining off it and her hair, now almost black in colour, plastered across her face. She sweeps it out of the way, sits back onto her haunches and closes her eyes as if concentrating for a moment. Then a sigh, and a shrug of the shoulders. "Nope, didn't work." Pushing the sopping hair further out of her eyes, she picks up the towel and starts to dry off the excess water.
("What were you expecting it to do?") My interested voice causes a pause in the frantic rubbing, before Hazel responds from amidst the mangled heap of towel and hair which is totally concealing her face.
"Get rid of my headache. Sometimes a short sharp shock is the way to do it." She starts scrubbing her scalp again, with less vigour. "But sometimes it makes it worse, and I think today is one of those days." She slides down to a sitting position and lets go of the towel, allowing it to hang down over her head like some peach hood. Now it's stopped flailing around, I recognise the pattern on the towel itself. Looks like the Pokemon center we recently left is going to have to budget for an extra one this year, since I can't see Hazel taking it back.
("I tend to find doing nothing is the best idea.") I don't know if she's listening to me, but better hearing my own voice than silence.
"That's not going to be a choice today, Ash is planning to cover ten miles by this evening. This will be one fun trip." She mutters cynically, still gazing at nothing.
("True.") I reply. And now silence. I think I'll be heading back.....
"Is it my fault that Cyndaquil left?" The question takes me by total surprise. I gaze at Hazel, mouth gaping like a stunned magikarp out of water. She thinks it's all down to her? Why? She must take my silence as agreement, because she lets her head drop and shoulders sag. "I knew it was, soon as I found out. Not surprised, I wouldn't want to be around me either." Her tone is so miserable that I almost want to slap her purple. There's just that inbuilt feeling sometimes, when someone is so sunk in the depths of despair, that I want to kick them for being so damn miserable. But the desire passes in a flash, being replaced by pity. If anyone is allowed to sink like this it's her.
("No no, I'm more at fault than you are. It's not down to you, really.")
"Yeah, right." She sags more, appearing to gaze at the water. "I've caused so much trouble, it would've been better if I'd stayed in Cerulean city after all." That sparks me into life.
("No! No, no, NO! You should never, ever blame yourself! Not for that! Never!") The passion and fervour empowering my voice stuns even me. But then again, this sort of story strikes such a resonant chord in me, I couldn't even pretend to be indifferent.
"But why? I mean, I've not been good to anyone, Misty hates me, Cyndaquil has left, and now they all know I'm an unwanted piece of crap." Bitterness, destructive as acid, yet fragile as glass, rides deep in her tone. No way. No goddamn way. No way in the hottest fires of hell am I letting it pass me by,
("Bullshit! I know where you're coming from, and I know you're parents are your parents! They're not YOU!") As I scream the last word, she finally turns to face me. Her eyes are so shaken, it's almost like they're haunted. Haunted by a malevolent spirit, that of her father. Well I've got news for that fucker. I'm coming with the crucifix to Cerulean City, and I'm going to banish him for good. Starting now.
"But....." Hazel's hollow voice falters, unable to find words.
("Never, ever believe you deserved what you got. Sometimes those who are meant to be your elders and betters are ignorant, sometimes they're choking, sometimes they're straight out bastards!") Seeing her tear laced face I soften my tone from barking denouncements, right down to just a subtle stroking of sound. ("I don't expect you to understand this now. In many ways I still don't. But what you're told you are and who you really are is never the same. If I say to you 'Who are you?' and you can answer me without saying what anyone else thinks, you're free. Just try to realise that who you are and who you're made out to be aren't the same for now.") I've shocked myself with the depth and philosophy of that speech, but I can see some of it making sense to Hazel. After a few moments, she nods.
"Okay, okay. I'll try to think about it." She turns to stare at the river again, and for a moment I think she's going to question me, why I seem to understand. Deep down, I seem to want her to. But no, she just sighs and hesitantly gets up. "The others must be waiting. C'mon, let's get back." There's still a waver in her voice, and I shake my head.
("No. You don't want anyone asking 'what's happened', 'what's wrong' and 'are you alright' at this time of the morning. Stay here a minute, wipe those tears you've tried to ignore away and calm down. Besides, don't know about you, but I can't handle cross-questioning after half a night of sleep.") She cranes around so she can see me, and smiles.
"I guess. So, anything you feel like chatting about." Yes, my mind screams. How about me? But I still have veto over my mind, at least for the moment.
("Did I ever tell you about the time that Misty ran into Ash bathing naked in a stream, but for some reason decided to, well, hide up a tree and watch?") Gawd, that's a story of legend, and it's still as funny now as when it actually happened.
"No! Sounds good though." Hazel settles down to look at me while I grin slyly. Well, maybe it's not quite as funny now as when it happened, but at the time it was 10 on the Richter scale of laughter. Now it's only 9.5.
("Well.") I get comfortable, and put on the traditional voice used when delivering as funny story, as Hazel listens entranced. ("It all started on one tuesday, when Ash told Misty he was going to have a swim. He forgot the towel, so Misty, having found it, followed him a few minutes later to give it to him.....")
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I hate my hair. It keeps draping, a dark orange curtain, across my vision. Escaping any attempt I make to trap it and hold it down with consummate ease. It was bad enough at the start of the day, but now nearing evening it's sweaty, grimy and clumped together, whipping my cheeks like a cat o' nine tails with every step, leaving greasy streaks with each contact. Not only that, but the bag grows heavier on my back, my legs are growing leaden and my stomach is growling with hunger. I wish I'd had more lunch. I wish I'd had lunch. Just any food, anything. No, don't be tempted so easily, at least wait for tonight. It's much easier at night to sneak away. I hate the silence too, it's thicker and more oppressive than the damn heat. I hate the incessant chirping of insects. I hate the bastard nettles that stung my ankle this morning. I hate my ankle for stinging. I hate the sun, I hate the trees, I hate the dirt, I hate every-damn-thing!
"That's it! I've had enough!" I try to scream my protest to the world, but all that emerges is a rather dry croak. Still, it's heard by the others, who stop and turn to me. Wearing expressions from surprise to annoyance, but all with a tone of exhaustion.
"We've still got a bit to go, Misty. I don't want you being late arriving in Cerulean." Shit, if Ash sounded any more reasonable he'd have to take up priesthood. And I'm not at home to Mister Reasonable this afternoon, no matter how hard he knocks on the door.
"I don't care! I'm worn out, my ankle is killing me, my shoulders are aching and my hair is a mess!" I spy a boulder nearby, and go over to sit on it, placing emphasis on the sigh of relief as I do so.
("Well, I'm up for a break.") Pikachu agrees, slumping down on a patch of grass.
"Me too." Hazel mutters, sagging against a tree trunk and fishing something from her backpack. A water bottle emerges in her grasp, and she drains the last of her drink. Amazing how two people can avoid eye contact for a whole day to avoid what they don't want to see.
"Well, I guess it can't hurt." Ash gives in, albeit reluctantly, sliding his heavy load from his shoulders. Chikorita spies a prime patch of clover among the brush and bare earth, and settles on it carefully.
"Sheez, whose idea was it to come out in the height of summer anyway?" An unusually whiny statement for me, but I can't be bothered hiding it.
"Yours." Ash replies over his shoulder, disappearing into the heat haze and bushes, presumably to deal with some private business. For a second I entertain the idea of following him, but dismiss it. I've already been, well, humiliated from trying to spy on him from a tree. My fault, but hey, a girl can be curious, right?
"Anyone know where I can find some water?" Hazel asks the group, but only gets a shrug from Pikachu and a sleepy grunt from Chikorita, who is already dozing off. Without looking up I grasp my water canteen and lob it in her direction. A muttered word of thanks is all I receive, followed by the noise of rapid drinking.
("I've had enough for today.") Pikachu groans, turning over onto her side and shutting her eyes. Very quickly her breathing slows into the tidal in- out of sleep. Leaving myself and Hazel. I glance up, just in time to see her look away. For some reason, I can't really work out now why our animosity started. I think I had lots of reasons, mostly little and petty. She had her reason, and, when I think about it, that was really quite petty. No, very petty. She ended up with a tough life. Some do, mine wasn't exactly a bed of roses either, up until her age. And yeah, no-one should have to go through what she did. But what is petty is that she tries to take it out on me. Blame me. Me. I was what, six, seven when that happened? So what the hell does it have to do with me? I'm just someone to take it out on, a lightning rod for her storm. As far as I'm concerned, she owes me an apology. Maybe then we can work out our differences. Maybe.
"I think Ash is coming back." Thanks for the information Hazel, although the fact I can hear him is a bit of a clue.
"I'm going for a quick walk." Anywhere, just to get away from the tension. I turn and head off in the opposite direction Ash went, not really caring where I'm actually going. Away from everyone else is enough. Just a minute of walking, slow and careful, looking at my feet. Now, I think I'm far enough away. So that, as I drop to my knees and pound the very earth with my fists, it can't be heard. Blind fury, trapped without direction, emerging through my hands. My eyes stare into the ground blankly, unseeing. My mouth fights the urge to scream. I don't feel my knuckles grow sore, the smooth skin inflamed and then broken. Blinding white clouds of anger, occluding every sense. The smell of sweat, dust, the taste of blood from a bitten lip, the scorching pain of my tired arms and blistered fingers, all ignored. Almost as if they were not there. There is nothing but emotion. Until the real world finds a way to re-enter. Dust, thrown up from my incessant pounding of the dry earth, reaches my nose and mouth. As I gasp for air, it is drawn down deep into my throat and lungs. The itching sensation does what pain could not, and draws me from my rage into a fit of coughing. Breath caught in my chest, choking on the very air. Slowly, painfully, I clear the irritation. And ease back into reality, and so the agony. I raise a shaking hand to my face and gaze at it with wide eyes. Blood seeps from the ruined mess of my nuckles, a small fragment of stone embedded into my palm. My mouth throbs, lip oozing a metallic taste. And I'm scared, scared as a lone child in a graveyard at midnight. Such anger, bitterness, and I couldn't control it. No control, no control over myself. It's like I'm being drawn along with the current, my future out of my own grasp. Sight travels up along my arm, then down my torso. Yes, I do have control. I've proven it, shedding unsightly parts of me. One mauled hand moves down to my stomach, and I pinch the skin. Yes. there is less than before. My diet and restrictions are working. If I can control my body, I can control my mind. The shrinking of my stomach over but a few weeks has been a victory, and proof of my dominance over myself. Mind seemingly clearer, I drag myself up to my feet. I repeat three words, time and time again under my breath. 'I'm in control'. Yet anger still rises unbidden, and I accept the urge to lash out at a nearby sapling, kicking it hard. Another bruise to add to those on my hands. Swearing profusely I turn away, but just catch a flash of movement as I do so. I turn back to face whatever it was that was spying on me. And this time, I do scream.
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Hazel is dozing off now, to join the Pokemon in slumber land. Leaving me waiting for Misty. Not that I mind that, but it'd be nice for someone else to at least make the effort of keeping me company. Cyndaquil, I never realised how much I'd miss him, really. I wonder how he is getting on? I know he'll return to us someday soon, but I do wish he was here with me right this moment. Although it is nice to maybe have time for my thoughts for once. A wrenching, piercing scream tears through that idea. Misty! I bolt off in the direction of the noise, ignoring the branches and leaves whipping my face. A flash of red catches the eye, and I burst in to see Misty stood in a frozen trance, her petrified stare being returned by..... a Caterpie. Admittedly an angry looking Caterpie, but still a Caterpie. I don't know whether to be amused or pissed. I'm still trying to work out which when it decides that whatever reason it came out for in the first place isn't worth any more of it's time, and crawls up the trunk and into the leaves, out of sight. Misty stands stock still for a moment longer, and then shakes herself into reality.
"Are you okay, Misty?" And that innocent query makes her jump higher than she would if she'd got a Caterpie in her underwear.
"Jesus Ash! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" She spins around, normally pale cheeks wearing a hot blush.
"Sorry, I just....." Misty breaks me off with a harsh tone.
"I could've been doing anything! You just barged in on me!" Any humor left from the Caterpie moment has evaporated in the face of Misty's scathing attack. Leaving anger, and the amount isn't getting any smaller. "I came out here to get some privacy! You can't just follow me, there are things about me you shouldn't know! Not to mention things you shouldn't see! Sheez, I could've been stark naked for all you knew!" I've had enough.
"This coming from the 'lady' who spied on me bathing from a tree?! That's rich!" My growled retort stuns Misty, I don't think she expected a reply. But it lasts only a second, her usually tranquil aqua gaze narrowing into a searing stare, tinged with venom.
"It's different for girls! I didn't ask for you to be here. So you shouldn't be, what I do on my own is my business, and mine alone." I give a derisory chuckle.
"So next time I hear a friend scream, I'm not allowed to worry?! You want me to just ignore it?" Again her eyes flash, and through the descending red mist I sense that logic has just left the building.
"It wasn't anything really dangerous!"
"How the hell was I to know?! You don't have one fucking scream for 'it's nothing really' and another for 'I'm in mortal danger' do you!" My voice raises to a shout, as I can't resist the frustration any more.
"Well next time, just don't bother!" She screams back, throwing her arms in the air. And I catch sight of blood.
"What the hell is wrong with your hands?" Soon as I say the words she withdraws them from view, but not after I've had a longer look. And I'm scared by what I see.
"Nothing." In a heartbeat, Misty's manner has gone from flaring anger to something almost worse. A pose reminiscent of a lost child, confused and fearful. I don't understand why, same as I don't understand why her hands are in such a state. All I do know is it worries me, a chill of fear penetrating deep down into my bones.
"Doesn't look like nothing to me."
"Forget it." Trying to be dismissive, Misty shakes her head and shrugs. No way am I taking that for an answer.
"Come on, let me take a look at it." I say gently, reaching for her arm. It's drawn away with lightning speed.
"I said it's nothing!" She yells, returning to using anger as her defence. But I can see her eyes glistening, hear her voice quavering. Yet again, I'm stuck between anger and worry. The same quandary, time after time, for too long now.
"It's not nothing, let me see." I move closer, expecting her to retreat, turn her back, even try to escape. I don't expect the shove that plants me on my back, sending up a cloud of tan shaded dust. I raise myself up on my elbows, seeing the same shock I feel at the assault emerging on Misty's face. I know she doesn't know why she just did what she did. Yet once again adrenaline brings anger to the fore. I scramble to my feet and glare at my friend, blank fury taking hold.
"Ahhhh, well, uh, sorry." Misty stutters, taking a defensive step back. I take a step forwards.
"Why the hell did you do that?!" I can feel my fingers curl, my mouth form a snarl. I would never attack Misty, never. But I'm too tired to fight this reaction, the shock and surprise.
"I-I don't know." She turns her head away, but not before I see a drop of liquid flowing down her face, glistening as it catches the few shards of sun breaking through the canopy. It slaps me out of my annoyance with more effect than a hand ever could.
"Something isn't right, I can tell. Let me see if I can help. Please?" The pleading in my words chimes clear as a bell, but she's not heeding it's call.
"No, leave me be. I'm fine." Lies spoken with a voice shaking as a leaf on the breeze.
"Misty....." She rounds on me, this time ignoring the free-flowing fluid washing from her wild eyes.
"Won't you just Go Away?! Get lost, move on, piss off, however you want to put it I don't care, but I don't want you here! You're on me like some snake, squeezing and choking me more and more! The sight of you is driving me mad!" That hurt. That really did hurt. I'm afraid that if I try to speak I'll start sobbing. So I can't even try to interrupt Misty's flaming tirade, while fingers of ice squeeze my heart tighter with each blasphemous word. "I said I was fine, so listen! Don't keep creeping closer like some demented stalker just itching to possess me. Just get out of my sight, out of my mind, my space, my face!" This time I'm the one to turn away, fighting a losing battle to control my jaw. Every note rains down like a blow, and I've no strength left to withstand such an assault. "Do you think that you've got special dispensation to be my shadow? Some sort of privilege to see every part of me? No? Well then, why don't you do me a favour, and fuck off out of my life!" I have to squeeze my eyelids tightly shut as she barks the last few words, with a tone of contempt and disgust I've never heard grace her melodious voice before. It reminded me of a glass breaking, of something that once was never being the same again. For some time, all that can be heard is her ragged breathing gently easing, until it is inaudible. Only then do I turn around again, once I feel like I have some control over my face. Her cheeks are burning red, still damp and dirty, eyes smouldering. And my control is rapidly evaporating.
"Okay, I'll go." I honestly wouldn't know it was I who were saying these words if I were to hear them again. My voice is rough and desperate, little more than a choking whisper. And I can't say any more. I let my face drop, long fringe shielding my eyes from her view, and start to walk away.
"Ash....." I pause, and look back over my shoulder. Misty is still stood in the same place, but her aqua orbs have changed from portrayers of boiling fury into viscid pools of despair. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing emerges. I hold her gaze for just a heartbeat longer, but then turn away again.
"I understand Misty. I'll leave you be for tonight. See you tomorrow." With that gravely statement, I'm off into the trees, leaving her standing alone and silent. While I look for a place this evening, when the night is drawing in, where I can cry myself to sleep unheard.
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Well, that's all for now. See you sooner next time (Hopefully)!
Dan