At last! This chapter took me waaay too long! Well, it's done now, thank
goodness, and I've got my writers block well and truly dislodged for the
time being.
Huge hugs to Cultnirvana, her eternal patience has been invaluable, as always. Beta-reading, chatting and the occasional kick to get me going!
Big thanks to Faith, Grocko, MistyMew, Joy-Girl, Asuka and dragoness for your reviews, I'm sorry I kept you waiting. Please don't kill me!
Well, on with the show.
Where the River Flows, Chapter IX
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23rd July - Evening. Another day gone by. Nothing seems to be different. I am sorry, my diary, that I have not written in you earlier. But seconds melt into minutes, melt into hours, melt into days. I know I should've made my choice today. But I didn't. I saw a way out, and took it. Now tomorrow awaits, the 24th. And it's going to be decided one way or the other.
I wish that tomorrow would never come. Perhaps I should seek a way to prevent it's arrival.....
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This must be a dream.
This MUST be a dream.
This must be just a very bad dream. A very, very bad dream!
Yet if this is a dream, why do the cuts on my hand scorch so?
If this is a dream, why does guilt hang so heavily, like some anchor, around my neck?
If this is just my imagination, why is everything so real?
This is no dream.
This is reality.
A reality of what has just occurred. The trust built up now smashed on the floor; a glass dropped by uncaring hands.
The friendship, ripped to shreds by cruel words, like fine silk ruined by vicious knives.
The love, love? Yes, love, dismissed the way a king may disown a servant, with such disdain, like the servile one was not even human.
And who performed each of these heinous acts?
I did.
Because I'm a bitch. A waster. An ugly, bitter, venomous rat.
Ash was the best thing I ever had. He was the best thing about me. My better half, almost. Almost. He would have been, I know, I know, I never accepted it before. All this destruction because of something I never admitted. Not even to myself. The truth sat there. Hidden, as the letter one never wants to open, while all the time knowing the words within. That's all they were. Words.
But words with such weight.
'I Love You.'
Yes, I heard them. I heard his reply to my mind's betrayal, back in that hotel room. But it was banned from thought. And that was why it tore at me. I wanted to hear those words. I wanted to know beyond doubt. I wanted to tell him again my love for him, tell him how much I wanted, no, desired, no, even needed him. Tell him that I love him, far, far more than I love myself. More than anything.
But I betrayed myself.
Shock shut the facts away. Masochism kept them banished. The part of me that doesn't want me to be happy. That wants me to curl up and die. That tells me, time and time again, that I'm not worth the air I breathe.
The part of me I hoped I left behind many, many years ago. The part that made me a preteen runaway, a hopeless drifter, the runt of the litter.
I laugh ironically to myself at the memory, sitting down carelessly. I found later that people had a million theories, all over the town, as to why I left without a backward glance. One was that the constant bitchiness of my three older sisters had driven me crazy. One was I wasn't ready for the limelight, being the youngest of such a famous group of talented performers. One was that I wanted to make my own way. Another said I had a dream, something to aspire to alone. My favourite one was that I had been abducted, and was about to be held to ransom.
None of these were true.
I wasn't driven out by bickering; I left as I could do nothing. I didn't leave through publicity, as no light is worth shining on me. I didn't leave to make my own way; I left to find a way out that day. I left with one burning desire, the wish to make life's light expire.
As for abduction, that was too laughable to be true. Come on, if someone wanted cash, they'd steal something or someone that is worth something to someone. As it was, I don't know why I was sat by the riverside when I was. I don't know why I was fishing. I wanted to throw myself into the surging current, and commit my soul to the water spirit to do with as She pleases.
But I was, once again, weak. I couldn't. So, I was hoping that something far more powerful than I would grasp the end of the line, and drag me into the river. I wanted fate, fortune or luck to do it for me. As I couldn't do it myself.
But then the water spirit threw me a second chance.
In the form of a boy with a half-drowned Pikachu who stole the bike I'd stolen from my sisters, and shot off with it. Why I didn't just shrug it off I don't know, hell, a bike was no good to me where I wanted to go. But perhaps fortune just nudged me in the right direction. The idea just popped into my head.
He's stolen my bike. My bike. It may have been Lilly's, but now it is mine. And I want it back.
Looking back, it was the best irrational decision I ever made. And that argument was the worst.
I was thrown a lifeline when I was about to drown. An angel in human form. And now, I've just forced him away. Taken the ticket to happiness presented to me and tore it to shreds.
There's not even the little voice of the mind, which, in the darkest of winters, still speaks of the light. The one that should be telling me it's not all over, that I still have hope. I can't hear it.
So, what now? I ignore the tears cascading down my face, and the loud, choking sobs which may as well be silent echoes. They don't matter. The trees, just insignificant details. The very world merely a platform, something below notice. The one thing that matters has gone. Not just for tonight. Things will never be the same.
His undying, unwavering devotion mattered.
Now it is gone.
Now, nothing matters.
Nothing. Not the trees, the people, the world itself.
Nothing. I do not matter.
Nothing.
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A smell on the breeze. Scent riding upon the wind. A delicate fragrance flowing in the warm night air. I would know what it was; who it was if I'd had my nose filled with cement. It's my trainer, my companion, my friend, my brother. Ash. Yet what is he doing? I can't smell anyone else, he must be many meters from the camp. I would guess that he wanted time on his own, but why? Then it strikes me, clear as day. He's looking for me. And if he's looking for me, something is very, very wrong. A gentle sob is carried to my ears on the wind, and the thought crystallises. Yes. He's in trouble.
("Ash?") The faint footfalls stop, the newfound silence pierced by a crackling cough.
"Cyndaquil?" I head towards the arid voice, lighting my fire quills to send a vague glow out among the pine trees, a beacon for a lost soul to find. The crunching of a few twigs announces his arrival, and we lock eyes. Trying to read the story that has yet to be told without the concealment of words. Sometimes words can be misread, sometimes they can be false. And, as I grow heavy from the leaden sadness I see within him, I remember that sometimes, words are not enough.
("What is it?") Sometimes, there are no words.
"I, I, Misty....." He slumps down beside me, casting fluid brown eyes down.
("Ash, what happened? Why are you like this?") He twirls a lock of hair around his fingers, still looking away.
"We, had a. A fight." My sadness is becoming shock, almost that of horror. In all my years at his side, I have never, ever seen such a change in my friend.
("Why? What about?") I raise my fire a little to see him more clearly. His face is shadowed, skeletal, lifeless.
"Uh, just over nothing." Another twirl of the raven hair.
("Big nothing, you're in a real state!") He glances away, left hand still working relentlessly through the black strands that are dropping down to his shoulders.
"Well, uh." Silence now, barely even a leaf wavering in the summer night.
("Come on, what went on. You didn't travel away from camp looking for me to just sit and play with your hair.") Just the tiniest hint of anger in my tone sparks him into response.
"As it happens, I didn't come looking for you. I've been walking around since, oh, this afternoon! So don't make it seem like I'm honour-bound to explain!" I wince as his voice cracks at such a simple sentence.
("Then why are you here? Why so far away?")
"I wanted to give myself some space, and....." He tries to look me in the eye, but fails, hazel sight instead fluttering around the woods and brush, anywhere but at me. He's holding on with his very fingertips to control, in a last-ditch effort to conceal weakness. It's natural for him to try, everyone does, hoping against hope they don't have to re-live what has passed. Concealing the truth isn't always just to prevent another knowing weakness, it can be to avoid the agonies of the experience all over again. But I can't let him shut this away, it would only lead to self-destruction. So, just one little word to break his grasp, let him fall.....
("And?")
"And....." His searching eyes shut, a tear running from each one. "To find somewhere to sleep, and.....to SCREAM!" My heart leaps at the sudden explosion of noise, and I watch with building fear and concern as Ash grabs his face with his hands and almost shrieks, a noise made out of anger, dread, sadness, loss, one incomparable to any other yet recognisable to any who have suffered some great tragedy. A sound I care not to remember, but will hear on many a dark and angry night, deep in my dreams.
("Calm down! Shush!") My words may as well be a whisper on the breeze, my friend still howls like some lone wolf, mourning the death of his mate. Out of panic, I do the only thing I can thing of, and drop my fire intensity to let fly a massive stream of smoke at him. For a second the horrific, keening sound continues, but then splutters to an abrupt halt as the smoke reaches deep down into his chest, and clenches it tightly within it's nebulous grasp. I stop the smoke stream, and wait for the cloud to dissipate, and Ash to stop spluttering. A brief zephyr brushes around us, helping to clear the air. After a few moments, I raise the lights again.
He doesn't look too happy.
("Sorry. But I had no choice.") I inwardly cringe as his watering eyes fix on me, body still heaving after inhaling so much smoke.
"You did."
("Like?") He falters, this time memory catching his breath. Those eyes lose their focus, resuming their wandering. I preferred it when he was staring at me.
"Ah, forget it. It's not like it'll change anything. Maybe if I'd choked for long enough it'd be a solution."
("What do you mean by that?") I'm genuinely puzzled. He can't mean what I think he does. Can he?
"Well I don't know, maybe since I've just lost my reason to breathe, it's pointless to inhale really." I feel myself bristle, and a tiny flame of anger ignite.
("So you're saying that I'm not good enough? That without Misty you don't care for anyone? Is that all I, Chikorita, Pikachu mean to you?!") My normally high voice is raising yet more in pitch with every word, as my own angst rises up like bile.
"I, I - "
("We've given our lives to you, as friends, one to another. Now it seems I have made a stupid mistake, my faith was misplaced in the hands of one who, who would drop their burden soon as he feels pain!") I yell the last few words vehemently, willing them to strike hard as a fist on my friend.
"Please, please don't shout, I can't take any more....." Soon as the words do strike, I regret them passing my lips. Ash's face, well, the finest artist in the world couldn't paint a more sorrowful picture.
("I'm sorry.") I pause, and think for a second. ("For shouting, I mean. But I don't take away what I said.") I fix him with a piercing look. ("If you're going to give up on your dreams, give up on 'our' dreams for this, well, I wish you the worst.")
"You don't understand. You don't." The hoarse reply only gives me my chance.
("So why? Why don't I understand, Ash?!") I pile on the indignant tone, hoping he'll snap. ("Since I'm so blind that I can't quite see why you can't go on with your life! Your dreams! Why do you need some girl who can break you with one word, do untold damage through spite and anger?") His head snaps up to attention, with an icy look upon it.
"Why? I'll tell you why! It's because all of my dreams include her!" He gets to his feet, gesturing wildly with his hands as he speaks. " Same as me, you, Pikachu, she's a part of everything! I want to collect the master trophy with her at my side, to survive the elite with her cheering me on, to defeat the champion with her arm in mine!" I think he realises what he's saying as his anger cools a bit, and he sits back down, voice turning reflective. "If we were to go on and succeed without her, it'd be like something was missing, you know? I'd look at what we'd won, and not think of how much we'd achieved, but of how she wasn't there to congratulate us. I mean, when it comes down to it, what good is pleasure without someone else to share it with?" I move to speak, but he picks up the question himself. "I know we'd celebrate with one another, as friends and team- mates, but how would you feel if Chikorita walked out and left us to battle without her?"
("Oh, uh. I think I get what you mean.") Yes, I think I do. I let my thoughts digest in silence along with his, as the half-moon peers out from between the trees, perhaps curious as to why we are disturbing her peaceful voyage once again.
"Misty is, well, a part of me, y'know?" The raven-haired one picks up an errant leaf and examines it, voice growing tight once more. "Same as, well, the tree may survive the passing of a leaf, but it will never be quite the same ever again. Something is lost, and lost forever." He discards the leaf, and sinks back until he is lain flat, staring at the sky. "But the tree can grow new leaves. Given time, be it a week or a year, the leaf can be replaced. Or there are so many that the impact is not great.....I don't believe that I could replace her. She's why I grow." I stay silent, taking in the fresh anguish in my guardian's voice, the sheen of the moon glowing upon his moist face. "She's not a leaf, a flower, a branch, she's my, well, my roots. Kinda un-romantic, huh? I wish I could've thought of a more beautiful thing to call her."
("Well, why couldn't you?") I prod, hoping to keep this going. It's moving me deeply, his soliloquy, but I try to stay neutral. Perhaps it's my greatest fault, being so analytical. But this is not the time or the place to consider that.
"I guess, I guess that I just couldn't think of anything. Heh, things of beauty are usually just for display, but she's got so much more than just beauty." As his voice turns from sad to wistful, I decide to seize the moment.
("So, why are you agonising here with me? Why have you even left the camp? Why aren't you there trying to sort things out?") He's not looking at me, but he seems to be deep in thought nonetheless. ("If Misty is all you see her to be, you should be trying to patch things up with her, not talking to me.")
"She told me to get out of he life. It's not a little statement you can ignore." His response, predictably flippant, only encourages me.
("Don't you think that a little thing called anger might have something to do with it?")
"I don't think anger could be responsible for that." Ash sighs, still gazing starward. "She seemed just a little too --- definite."
("So, anger couldn't be responsible for you screaming your head off a few minutes back?") I add a snide element of my own, to press the point.
"It wasn't anger alone, Cyndaquil!" Ash doesn't get up, but I know he's snapping back at me. "It was confusion, pressure, sadness..... too many things to recount."
("So what says that she couldn't have been feeling all those things herself?") Ash looks thoughtful.
"Well, she hadn't just been screamed at and abused by her first, and only love. That's a big reason." He answers. I realise how truly ignorant he is, ignorant of what is going on under his very eyes. Well, maybe it isn't all his fault, what with being pre-occupied about Misty in the first place, having the Hazel situation dropped on him from point-blank range and trying to deal with a civil war between two pairs of his friends. Seems like I need to educate him.
("She's having enough problems as it is.") I take a deep breath, preparing to explain. I wish I wasn't the bearer of bad news, but better to light a candle than curse the darkness. ("One, she's got an exam in a week, which she feels like she can't pass. Two, she's being pulled apart by Hazel and her story, she doesn't really know if she's responsible, deep down. Three, she doesn't know what to do with you, since she's really confused by what is going on. Four.....") He's really not going to like this, but I have to say it. I don't know if anyone else has figured it out, but.....
"What?" The prone figure sounds anxious, as if he already knows, or has guessed that this point will be bad, somehow.
("Four, well, you know that recently Misty has been going for 'walks' or 'baths' after dinner most nights?") Ash nods from his reclined position.
"Yeah. I thought there was always odd about that. When she came back from walks she still seemed cool, and after bathing there was definitely still some scent upon her body, something sour, that I could never define - Oh, no, it can't be true....." The coin has just dropped.
("It is. I've checked it out a few times since we left the last town, and every time my suspicions were founded.") I take a deep breath, preparing to spill the truth. ("Misty has been sticking her fingers down her throat. After most meals, she steals away, and brings whatever she's eaten back up. Consistently, for a while now.") Ash props himself up on one elbow, so he can stare at me.
"Why, if you knew all this, why didn't you tell me?" He speaks desperately, with accusation heavy in the tone. "Why wait until now, when things have changed so much?"
("I don't know, I can't answer.") It's true, I can't. I have no valid reason for this concealment. ("But I guess I was hoping that this would resolve itself without you needing to know. I didn't want to trouble you, and look where that silly idea has got me.") Up shit creek, that's where.
"Misty....." Ash's elbow gives way, and he lands in a state of abject shock. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't I see what was going on right under my eyes?"
("I didn't see Hazel's story coming either. Come on Ash, the hardest things to see in life are the ones right under your nose. We all know that.") He still looks as guilty as one who had unwittingly committed all seven deadly sins in one night.
"There's no excuse-" I interrupt brusquely, sensing his mood.
("Why do you need an excuse? You're not responsible! You're no mind reader, you're not psychic, you're not her guardian angel either!") I let my fire quills flare up in emphasis. ("Don't blame yourself for this. If you've got something you should apologise for, it's not following up your real ideals. You want Misty. Want her more than success, than victory. If that was what mattered to you now, you wouldn't have cared who you celebrated with.") I soften my sound now, sensing that my message has got through. ("What you have is too much to waste or too deep to skim over. Don't let it die Ash, please. Don't let it die. There is too much to live for to let this love sink below the surface. Stand up. Go to her, take her simple words of anger and bemusement. It's the blood that runs through your veins, this love, the heart which pumps within you. Live it. Please, for her sake, your sake, and mine. I don't think I could stand myself if I sat and watched all this slip away.") The last letter of my impassioned speech fades to nothingness, but I can feel the impact resonating all around me. I just gaze into the middle distance for a few minutes as I calm down, before looking to my companion. Any guilt in Ash's face has gone, replaced by introspection. Good. I allow myself a smile of self-congratulation. Which turns into a whole body yawn, starting from somewhere around my feet and rising like The Phoenix from it's ashes.
"Tired, huh?" My friend sits slowly upright, tiredness clearly visible in his expression. "Me toooo-." Words blending seamlessly into a yawn, he reaches up to rub his bleary eyes.
("You'd better get back to camp.") I mutter, shaking my head to try to postpone sleep.
"Nah, it's late, I'm tired, and I probably wouldn't find my way back now." He lays down on his back again, lids growing heavy. "Besides, it's no more comfortable there, still sleeping on the ground." His eyes close slowly, and I feel mine following suit, my resistance ending. He murmurs a few final words as I'm suspended between awareness and the coma of sleep. "'Sides, I think it's best to give Misty the place to herself when she wakes up....."
("Well she never has been a morning person.....") I breathe in reply, just as the scales of consciousness tip to replace the waking world with the land of dreams.
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It's mid-morning now, and I'm panicking. Here at the camp, if you can call a random piece of woodland that, we're all set to go. Well, we being myself, Pikachu, Hazel and Misty. And that's the problem. We are Ash-less. Devoid of even a hint of Ketchum. And that leaves us in the long grass.
("Misty, you sure you don't know where he is?!") I growl quietly as Pikachu asks the same question she has every forty-two seconds for the last hour and a half.
"No." And the same answer. I don't know what happened yesterday. But it's bad.
("But you were with him last, didn't he say?") Obviously not, else Misty would know, you pillock.
"No. He didn't seem to know himself." That's one thing that makes me sure something has been said or done. Ash and Misty always know where each other are. Living in each other's pockets for six years is the main reason, along with their mutual affection. It's sort of like a security thing, even if they don't know where they're located, they're never truly lost when they're with each other. As I study every nuance of Misty's expression, between the scowl she seems to wear permanently now and faint lines of stress, I can see her aquamarine eyes searching. Reaching out for something they can't find, fumbling in the dark.
("Well, I guess we just keep waiting then.") Pikachu shrugs and goes back to counting leaves, ears perked for the sound of approach. Silence once again settles, like mist over a meadow.
"Ah, to hell with it, I'm going to have a swim." Hazel dives into her bag, withdraws her sky-blue swimming gear and a towel, and scoots off towards the nearby river. Seems like she's nervous as well. Pikachu watches her go idly, as a change from watching trees. Since we're all avoiding each other's eyes, it's tricky to find something interesting to look at. But I really want something to keep my mind off the possibility that Ash might be doing a Cyndaquil.
("Well, someone sure needs a lesson in patience.") Pikachu chuckles quietly, as we listen for the usual noises made when Hazel decides to go swimming. Not much for a minute or so, then a massive splash followed by a high-pitched shriek. She never bothers checking the temperature of the river before dive-bombing it. Although I doubt that it'd make much difference if she did.
"Uh, sorry I'm late." I jump ten feet in the air and spin around to see a tall figure standing only a few yards away, sheepish smile on his face.
("Ash!") I hurl myself at him, and feel Pikachu joining suit as we both crash into his arms, bowling him over.
("God, I was so worried! I didn't know where you'd gone!") I can sense the unspoken question from Pikachu, the one I was dreading the answer of. 'I didn't know if you were coming back.....'
"Hey, you didn't think I'd leave you all alone did you?" He hugs the both of us tightly, before we get off and allow him to stand up. He looks over to Misty. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Uh, how you feeling?" Both Ash and Misty seem to have turned to stone, expressions immovable as the strongest Oak.
"Fine."
"Good."
Silence, once again. Then.....
"Have we still got any sausages?" My dark-eyed friend gestures towards the pile of bags heaped against a willow. "I haven't had any breakfast yet, and my stomach doesn't like that fact one bit."
("Yeah.") Pikachu goes rummaging through the bags, emerging with some. They've just about gone off, since it's pretty hot, but so long as they're cooked properly they're still edible. Well, for someone who really likes them, I'm not much of a meat person.
"Good. I'll get a fire started." A few minutes of twig collection and some very deft lighting work later, there is a merry little blaze crackling away, saucepan, holding a few large pink sausages, sat delicately atop it.
("Where did you go last night?") Ash ceases poking the cooking food, and looks down to me.
"Nowhere special." I don't know if it's due to Misty's close proximity or just he doesn't want me to know, but he's keeping his cards close to his chest.
"Do I smell food?" Hazel appears pretty much on cue, undoubtedly drawn by the cooking scents wafting on the wind. Wearing a pretty short towel. Seems like she didn't think Ash would be here when she got back, judging by two facts:
One, she hasn't re-dressed, and
Two, she's just glomped him quite impressively, causing him to end up flat on his back for the second time in five minutes. The fact that he's just been pounced on by an apparently naked girl wearing what is little more than a flannel isn't lost on Ash either, judging by the glow emerging rapidly on his cheeks. Especially when she gets off him, and her makeshift clothing smoothly slips off. By the time it hits the floor he's wheeled around to face the other way, hands over eyes and saying every apology he can think of at great speed.
("You're evil, you know that?") I hear Pikachu chortling gleefully, and turn to look at Hazel, Ash doing the same. To see Hazel wearing a big smile.....and her two-piece swimming costume.
"I know. But I've been waiting for days to pull that trick on him." Hazel looks up at Ash coyly, and slips him a wink. "But don't worry Ashy-boy, next time the show might be no-holds-barred, only for you of course!" I stare at her, mouth flapping soundless as a Magikarp's as she flounces off to get changed properly.
"The scariest thing is that she would." Ash mumbles, sinking down to deal with the now browning sausages. I agree silently. Hazel is quite comfortable showing off her body. Even to extremes, if I hadn't been alert the other day, she would've walked out stark naked on Ash while he was training me to swim better. She said that she'd not known we were there (lie), that she always took a bath without anything on (lie) and also that Ash had been spying on her before (lie, well, I think so. Hope so too.) I really don't get why. Is she's trying to provoke something from Ash? Does she just like to show off? Or is it something deeper? I can't say.
("I know.") Something in my mind nags me that something was wrong in that whole scene. Can't pin it down.
"Well, they're almost done. I wonder if Misty would like some." Misty. Of course! She didn't make a sound the whole time Hazel was blatantly flirting with Ash, she didn't make a sound. I'd expect her to be spitting bullets!
("I'll ask her.") I scurry past Pikachu, who is burrowing through the bags in search of ketchup, no doubt, and to Misty who is leaning against a pine with a faraway look. ("Ash wants to know if you want some brunch.")
"Uh, no, I'm not hungry." I shrug to myself, and move back to Ash.
("She's not hungry.") He blinks slowly, before speaking cautiously, eyes still on the sizzling pan.
"Did she have any breakfast?" I think back with care, through the morning's activities.
("Nope, don't think so.") Ash nods once before looking up.
"Hey Misty, what did you have for breakfast?" The red-haired one is rattled out of her daze, seeming surprised at Ash's voice in her direction.
"Uh, well....." She looks from me to Pikachu, and back to me again. "Nothing much, really."
"So do you fancy some now? These sausages are done." He takes the saucepan from the fire, and spears each one of it's fat passengers carefully before sliding them off his fork onto a waiting plate.
"Nah, no thanks." Misty seems wary as she watches Ash put out the fire, and prises the ketchup bottle from Pikachu's determined hold.
"Ah, go on. We've got a long day of travelling to come, don't want you feeling faint do we?" Ash pours some of the thick red syrup onto a side of the plate, puts the bottle down, and proffers them up to her. She takes a step forward, hesitates, and then takes two back.
"Really, it's okay. I don't fancy meat right now, the smell is putting me off." Her nostrils twitch as she speaks, like she's sniffing the air. Sounds fair to me.
"Ignore that, it's the fat in the pan." Ash picks one of the four darkened links up, dips the end in the pool of sauce and takes a bite. "Tastes pretty good to me."
"Nah." Misty eyes the plate with a curious mix of expressions. Half revulsion, half desire. Strange.
"Come on, take one!" Ash takes a second bite from his impromptu breakfast before leaning towards Misty with the dish held out before him. "They'll go cold if you don't. Besides, you'll feel sick if you don't eat in this weather." He almost seems to spell out the last sentence, still leaning forward with an inviting smile. I gaze skywards, fully in agreement when I see a blue canopy once again hovering above me.
("Yeah, he's right. Hurry up and take one before Hazel comes back and scoffs the lot.") Ash smiles and nods in assent.
"See, I'm not that crazy, am I?" Misty shudders, despite the growing heat as the sun rises high into the sky. She casts a searching glance around the camp, fixing on Pikachu and me for a moment, before returning attention to Ash.
"Why don't you offer them to the Pokemon first? I'm sure they're hungry." My companion sighs quietly, and turns his head to me.
"Fancy brunch?" Even though I already know that I don't, something in Ash's gaze warns me that yes is not the answer he wants to hear.
("No, I'm good.") He smiles faintly, before calling to Pikachu.
"How about you?" Pikachu, who is half-way down the neglected ketchup bottle, stops and nods once. Ash flips her a sausage with a little more force than I would've predicted, and it bounces off her nose before she manages to catch it while juggling with her sauce-filled container. "Don't forget that's the last sauce we have until we hit civilisation. When it's gone you're back on the wagon." She ignores the warning, and proceeds to try and force the sausage through the neck of the bottle, despite the bottle being about two sizes too small, to dip it in the ketchup still remaining.
("Damn. It's stuck.") Pikachu tries to pull the securely lodged sausage from the hole, and only succeeds in breaking it in half, with one half ending in her paws and the other filling the bottle neck. She studies the situation for a second, and then growls in annoyance. ("To coin a phrase, shit.")
"Well, that leaves two." Ash tears his eyes away from the Pokemon versus bottle confrontation and back onto Misty. "What do you say one each?"
"I say fine." Hazel breezes back into the group and snatches a sausage from the plate, taking a monstrous bite from it as she goes to pack away her costume and towels. Ash casts a furious look at her back before returning to the matter in hand, or should I say, on plate.
"Go on Misty, it's yours." She backs away, pale face anxious.
"No, really. You made them, you eat them."
"I made them for all of us. Take it." Misty leans gradually towards the last remaining link, reaches out, and then draws her hand away quickly. Her empty hand.
"Ash, I don't want it! Really!" She moans, eyes tense. Ash returns her look, seemingly calm. But I can just trace a hint of worry within his brown irises. "You said you were hungry, so you need the food more than I do. I'm fine." She sounds convincing, but I notice she breaks eye contact as she speaks.
"Please Misty, have something to eat." Ash's voice now holds a pleading element to it, almost begging Misty to accept. I'm nonplussed as to why he's so determined she accept. Probably he doesn't want her feeling weak for today's journey.
"Ash, uh, I..." A rare stroke of wind carries the scent of the food, albeit now beginning to congeal, through the air once more, and Misty seems to snap. "Okay, give it here."
"Sure thing." Ash smiles as Misty grasps the sausage, looks at him, and then devours it in a flash.
"Happy now?" She huffs, looking nauseous. Ash just nods in answer.
"Hey, got any more food?" Hazel calls, finally closing up her bag.
("Nope, all gone.") I answer cheerfully.
"Damn, that first one was tasty too." She grumbles, pushing chocolate hair away from her eyes.
"Okay people, everyone set?" Ash calls, stamping out the remains of the fire and dousing the ashes with water.
"Hang on Ash, I need to go to the toilet, won't be long." Misty answers cheerfully, heading towards some thicker vegetation.
"Okay Misty, but you've got one minute. I want to get moving, so if you're away a second longer I'm coming after you. Whatever you may be doing at the time." He means it too. We must be behind schedule or something.
"Whose fault is it that we're late starting anyway?" Misty calls out angrily in response, wheeling around to face the black-haired one.
"I know, but I want to make up for lost time, starting now." Misty takes a step back towards him, frustration flaring in her stare.
"Maybe I'll take my own good time, to make you wait like you made us!" She growls, glowering out from under her orange bangs.
"Well as I said, after a minute I'm coming after you and hauling you out. That's a promise." A war of words passes unsaid between them for a taut second before she turns and stalks off into deeper cover. Ash watches her go for a second, before turning to the rest of us. I'm guessing that both Hazel and Pikachu are as perplexed as I am about this sudden turn of mood. "And that goes for all of us." He continues, still in the same cold tone. "I wanted to do another mile yesterday and one already this morning, so we're going to have to keep stops to a minimum and quick until we break for some lunch. It's the twentieth today, we've only got three days left until Misty's exam, I want to get to Cerulean tomorrow. Right?"
"Yes, okay, okay, I get it." Hazel grouches, picking up her new khaki satchel. "It's a good thing I'm pleased to see you, else I'd give you hell all morning for being such a fuss-budget."
"Well, that's settled." Ash heaves his bag onto his shoulders, staggers sideways for a second, then adjusts to the weight. He glances down at his watch, and calls out "Ten seconds!"
"I'm here, I'm here!" Misty crashes her way back into the clearing. "You could've given me more than a minute, I'm not a guy for crying out loud!"
"Of course. It's pretty obvious, y'know?" She doesn't know what to say to that suggestive comment, so she just snarls under her breath while closing her own bag and easing it onto her shoulders, legs bowing dangerously as she does so.
"Why don't they have to carry something?" Hazel gestures first to Pikachu, then to me.
"Ever tried designing a backpack for someone with four legs?" Ash responds casually. I smile sweetly up at Hazel just to emphasise the point.
("We did have some in the past, but they were hard to fit, and kept breaking whenever I walked above a slow trot. Besides, it's not like I'm big enough to carry anything anyway.")
("And I am carrying something.") Pikachu adds, lifting up a clear bottle that half-full of a red liquid and still stoppered by a thick roll of meat.
"Girls, come on, we're off." Misty calls to us, as she moves after Ash's already darkening figure that is moving through the trees.
"Let's go." Hazel paces after Misty, with me at her side and Pikachu still fighting with the bottle behind us. I sigh in pleasure as a cooling wind begins to get up, signalling that we are beginning to get close to the Cerulean Sea. I glance up at my friend, who is struggling with a shoulder strap, and a cheeky smile pinching my mouth.
("You know, it feels so good to have the breeze on your back.")
"..."
("It makes me feel so light.")
"..."
("Almost as if you're walking free.")
"..."
("It seems to take the weight of the world off your shoulders.")
"...You want to shut the hell up?!"
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Don't forget to R&R, in the next chapter the diary writer is revealed, and things start heating up again!
Dan.
Huge hugs to Cultnirvana, her eternal patience has been invaluable, as always. Beta-reading, chatting and the occasional kick to get me going!
Big thanks to Faith, Grocko, MistyMew, Joy-Girl, Asuka and dragoness for your reviews, I'm sorry I kept you waiting. Please don't kill me!
Well, on with the show.
Where the River Flows, Chapter IX
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23rd July - Evening. Another day gone by. Nothing seems to be different. I am sorry, my diary, that I have not written in you earlier. But seconds melt into minutes, melt into hours, melt into days. I know I should've made my choice today. But I didn't. I saw a way out, and took it. Now tomorrow awaits, the 24th. And it's going to be decided one way or the other.
I wish that tomorrow would never come. Perhaps I should seek a way to prevent it's arrival.....
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This must be a dream.
This MUST be a dream.
This must be just a very bad dream. A very, very bad dream!
Yet if this is a dream, why do the cuts on my hand scorch so?
If this is a dream, why does guilt hang so heavily, like some anchor, around my neck?
If this is just my imagination, why is everything so real?
This is no dream.
This is reality.
A reality of what has just occurred. The trust built up now smashed on the floor; a glass dropped by uncaring hands.
The friendship, ripped to shreds by cruel words, like fine silk ruined by vicious knives.
The love, love? Yes, love, dismissed the way a king may disown a servant, with such disdain, like the servile one was not even human.
And who performed each of these heinous acts?
I did.
Because I'm a bitch. A waster. An ugly, bitter, venomous rat.
Ash was the best thing I ever had. He was the best thing about me. My better half, almost. Almost. He would have been, I know, I know, I never accepted it before. All this destruction because of something I never admitted. Not even to myself. The truth sat there. Hidden, as the letter one never wants to open, while all the time knowing the words within. That's all they were. Words.
But words with such weight.
'I Love You.'
Yes, I heard them. I heard his reply to my mind's betrayal, back in that hotel room. But it was banned from thought. And that was why it tore at me. I wanted to hear those words. I wanted to know beyond doubt. I wanted to tell him again my love for him, tell him how much I wanted, no, desired, no, even needed him. Tell him that I love him, far, far more than I love myself. More than anything.
But I betrayed myself.
Shock shut the facts away. Masochism kept them banished. The part of me that doesn't want me to be happy. That wants me to curl up and die. That tells me, time and time again, that I'm not worth the air I breathe.
The part of me I hoped I left behind many, many years ago. The part that made me a preteen runaway, a hopeless drifter, the runt of the litter.
I laugh ironically to myself at the memory, sitting down carelessly. I found later that people had a million theories, all over the town, as to why I left without a backward glance. One was that the constant bitchiness of my three older sisters had driven me crazy. One was I wasn't ready for the limelight, being the youngest of such a famous group of talented performers. One was that I wanted to make my own way. Another said I had a dream, something to aspire to alone. My favourite one was that I had been abducted, and was about to be held to ransom.
None of these were true.
I wasn't driven out by bickering; I left as I could do nothing. I didn't leave through publicity, as no light is worth shining on me. I didn't leave to make my own way; I left to find a way out that day. I left with one burning desire, the wish to make life's light expire.
As for abduction, that was too laughable to be true. Come on, if someone wanted cash, they'd steal something or someone that is worth something to someone. As it was, I don't know why I was sat by the riverside when I was. I don't know why I was fishing. I wanted to throw myself into the surging current, and commit my soul to the water spirit to do with as She pleases.
But I was, once again, weak. I couldn't. So, I was hoping that something far more powerful than I would grasp the end of the line, and drag me into the river. I wanted fate, fortune or luck to do it for me. As I couldn't do it myself.
But then the water spirit threw me a second chance.
In the form of a boy with a half-drowned Pikachu who stole the bike I'd stolen from my sisters, and shot off with it. Why I didn't just shrug it off I don't know, hell, a bike was no good to me where I wanted to go. But perhaps fortune just nudged me in the right direction. The idea just popped into my head.
He's stolen my bike. My bike. It may have been Lilly's, but now it is mine. And I want it back.
Looking back, it was the best irrational decision I ever made. And that argument was the worst.
I was thrown a lifeline when I was about to drown. An angel in human form. And now, I've just forced him away. Taken the ticket to happiness presented to me and tore it to shreds.
There's not even the little voice of the mind, which, in the darkest of winters, still speaks of the light. The one that should be telling me it's not all over, that I still have hope. I can't hear it.
So, what now? I ignore the tears cascading down my face, and the loud, choking sobs which may as well be silent echoes. They don't matter. The trees, just insignificant details. The very world merely a platform, something below notice. The one thing that matters has gone. Not just for tonight. Things will never be the same.
His undying, unwavering devotion mattered.
Now it is gone.
Now, nothing matters.
Nothing. Not the trees, the people, the world itself.
Nothing. I do not matter.
Nothing.
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A smell on the breeze. Scent riding upon the wind. A delicate fragrance flowing in the warm night air. I would know what it was; who it was if I'd had my nose filled with cement. It's my trainer, my companion, my friend, my brother. Ash. Yet what is he doing? I can't smell anyone else, he must be many meters from the camp. I would guess that he wanted time on his own, but why? Then it strikes me, clear as day. He's looking for me. And if he's looking for me, something is very, very wrong. A gentle sob is carried to my ears on the wind, and the thought crystallises. Yes. He's in trouble.
("Ash?") The faint footfalls stop, the newfound silence pierced by a crackling cough.
"Cyndaquil?" I head towards the arid voice, lighting my fire quills to send a vague glow out among the pine trees, a beacon for a lost soul to find. The crunching of a few twigs announces his arrival, and we lock eyes. Trying to read the story that has yet to be told without the concealment of words. Sometimes words can be misread, sometimes they can be false. And, as I grow heavy from the leaden sadness I see within him, I remember that sometimes, words are not enough.
("What is it?") Sometimes, there are no words.
"I, I, Misty....." He slumps down beside me, casting fluid brown eyes down.
("Ash, what happened? Why are you like this?") He twirls a lock of hair around his fingers, still looking away.
"We, had a. A fight." My sadness is becoming shock, almost that of horror. In all my years at his side, I have never, ever seen such a change in my friend.
("Why? What about?") I raise my fire a little to see him more clearly. His face is shadowed, skeletal, lifeless.
"Uh, just over nothing." Another twirl of the raven hair.
("Big nothing, you're in a real state!") He glances away, left hand still working relentlessly through the black strands that are dropping down to his shoulders.
"Well, uh." Silence now, barely even a leaf wavering in the summer night.
("Come on, what went on. You didn't travel away from camp looking for me to just sit and play with your hair.") Just the tiniest hint of anger in my tone sparks him into response.
"As it happens, I didn't come looking for you. I've been walking around since, oh, this afternoon! So don't make it seem like I'm honour-bound to explain!" I wince as his voice cracks at such a simple sentence.
("Then why are you here? Why so far away?")
"I wanted to give myself some space, and....." He tries to look me in the eye, but fails, hazel sight instead fluttering around the woods and brush, anywhere but at me. He's holding on with his very fingertips to control, in a last-ditch effort to conceal weakness. It's natural for him to try, everyone does, hoping against hope they don't have to re-live what has passed. Concealing the truth isn't always just to prevent another knowing weakness, it can be to avoid the agonies of the experience all over again. But I can't let him shut this away, it would only lead to self-destruction. So, just one little word to break his grasp, let him fall.....
("And?")
"And....." His searching eyes shut, a tear running from each one. "To find somewhere to sleep, and.....to SCREAM!" My heart leaps at the sudden explosion of noise, and I watch with building fear and concern as Ash grabs his face with his hands and almost shrieks, a noise made out of anger, dread, sadness, loss, one incomparable to any other yet recognisable to any who have suffered some great tragedy. A sound I care not to remember, but will hear on many a dark and angry night, deep in my dreams.
("Calm down! Shush!") My words may as well be a whisper on the breeze, my friend still howls like some lone wolf, mourning the death of his mate. Out of panic, I do the only thing I can thing of, and drop my fire intensity to let fly a massive stream of smoke at him. For a second the horrific, keening sound continues, but then splutters to an abrupt halt as the smoke reaches deep down into his chest, and clenches it tightly within it's nebulous grasp. I stop the smoke stream, and wait for the cloud to dissipate, and Ash to stop spluttering. A brief zephyr brushes around us, helping to clear the air. After a few moments, I raise the lights again.
He doesn't look too happy.
("Sorry. But I had no choice.") I inwardly cringe as his watering eyes fix on me, body still heaving after inhaling so much smoke.
"You did."
("Like?") He falters, this time memory catching his breath. Those eyes lose their focus, resuming their wandering. I preferred it when he was staring at me.
"Ah, forget it. It's not like it'll change anything. Maybe if I'd choked for long enough it'd be a solution."
("What do you mean by that?") I'm genuinely puzzled. He can't mean what I think he does. Can he?
"Well I don't know, maybe since I've just lost my reason to breathe, it's pointless to inhale really." I feel myself bristle, and a tiny flame of anger ignite.
("So you're saying that I'm not good enough? That without Misty you don't care for anyone? Is that all I, Chikorita, Pikachu mean to you?!") My normally high voice is raising yet more in pitch with every word, as my own angst rises up like bile.
"I, I - "
("We've given our lives to you, as friends, one to another. Now it seems I have made a stupid mistake, my faith was misplaced in the hands of one who, who would drop their burden soon as he feels pain!") I yell the last few words vehemently, willing them to strike hard as a fist on my friend.
"Please, please don't shout, I can't take any more....." Soon as the words do strike, I regret them passing my lips. Ash's face, well, the finest artist in the world couldn't paint a more sorrowful picture.
("I'm sorry.") I pause, and think for a second. ("For shouting, I mean. But I don't take away what I said.") I fix him with a piercing look. ("If you're going to give up on your dreams, give up on 'our' dreams for this, well, I wish you the worst.")
"You don't understand. You don't." The hoarse reply only gives me my chance.
("So why? Why don't I understand, Ash?!") I pile on the indignant tone, hoping he'll snap. ("Since I'm so blind that I can't quite see why you can't go on with your life! Your dreams! Why do you need some girl who can break you with one word, do untold damage through spite and anger?") His head snaps up to attention, with an icy look upon it.
"Why? I'll tell you why! It's because all of my dreams include her!" He gets to his feet, gesturing wildly with his hands as he speaks. " Same as me, you, Pikachu, she's a part of everything! I want to collect the master trophy with her at my side, to survive the elite with her cheering me on, to defeat the champion with her arm in mine!" I think he realises what he's saying as his anger cools a bit, and he sits back down, voice turning reflective. "If we were to go on and succeed without her, it'd be like something was missing, you know? I'd look at what we'd won, and not think of how much we'd achieved, but of how she wasn't there to congratulate us. I mean, when it comes down to it, what good is pleasure without someone else to share it with?" I move to speak, but he picks up the question himself. "I know we'd celebrate with one another, as friends and team- mates, but how would you feel if Chikorita walked out and left us to battle without her?"
("Oh, uh. I think I get what you mean.") Yes, I think I do. I let my thoughts digest in silence along with his, as the half-moon peers out from between the trees, perhaps curious as to why we are disturbing her peaceful voyage once again.
"Misty is, well, a part of me, y'know?" The raven-haired one picks up an errant leaf and examines it, voice growing tight once more. "Same as, well, the tree may survive the passing of a leaf, but it will never be quite the same ever again. Something is lost, and lost forever." He discards the leaf, and sinks back until he is lain flat, staring at the sky. "But the tree can grow new leaves. Given time, be it a week or a year, the leaf can be replaced. Or there are so many that the impact is not great.....I don't believe that I could replace her. She's why I grow." I stay silent, taking in the fresh anguish in my guardian's voice, the sheen of the moon glowing upon his moist face. "She's not a leaf, a flower, a branch, she's my, well, my roots. Kinda un-romantic, huh? I wish I could've thought of a more beautiful thing to call her."
("Well, why couldn't you?") I prod, hoping to keep this going. It's moving me deeply, his soliloquy, but I try to stay neutral. Perhaps it's my greatest fault, being so analytical. But this is not the time or the place to consider that.
"I guess, I guess that I just couldn't think of anything. Heh, things of beauty are usually just for display, but she's got so much more than just beauty." As his voice turns from sad to wistful, I decide to seize the moment.
("So, why are you agonising here with me? Why have you even left the camp? Why aren't you there trying to sort things out?") He's not looking at me, but he seems to be deep in thought nonetheless. ("If Misty is all you see her to be, you should be trying to patch things up with her, not talking to me.")
"She told me to get out of he life. It's not a little statement you can ignore." His response, predictably flippant, only encourages me.
("Don't you think that a little thing called anger might have something to do with it?")
"I don't think anger could be responsible for that." Ash sighs, still gazing starward. "She seemed just a little too --- definite."
("So, anger couldn't be responsible for you screaming your head off a few minutes back?") I add a snide element of my own, to press the point.
"It wasn't anger alone, Cyndaquil!" Ash doesn't get up, but I know he's snapping back at me. "It was confusion, pressure, sadness..... too many things to recount."
("So what says that she couldn't have been feeling all those things herself?") Ash looks thoughtful.
"Well, she hadn't just been screamed at and abused by her first, and only love. That's a big reason." He answers. I realise how truly ignorant he is, ignorant of what is going on under his very eyes. Well, maybe it isn't all his fault, what with being pre-occupied about Misty in the first place, having the Hazel situation dropped on him from point-blank range and trying to deal with a civil war between two pairs of his friends. Seems like I need to educate him.
("She's having enough problems as it is.") I take a deep breath, preparing to explain. I wish I wasn't the bearer of bad news, but better to light a candle than curse the darkness. ("One, she's got an exam in a week, which she feels like she can't pass. Two, she's being pulled apart by Hazel and her story, she doesn't really know if she's responsible, deep down. Three, she doesn't know what to do with you, since she's really confused by what is going on. Four.....") He's really not going to like this, but I have to say it. I don't know if anyone else has figured it out, but.....
"What?" The prone figure sounds anxious, as if he already knows, or has guessed that this point will be bad, somehow.
("Four, well, you know that recently Misty has been going for 'walks' or 'baths' after dinner most nights?") Ash nods from his reclined position.
"Yeah. I thought there was always odd about that. When she came back from walks she still seemed cool, and after bathing there was definitely still some scent upon her body, something sour, that I could never define - Oh, no, it can't be true....." The coin has just dropped.
("It is. I've checked it out a few times since we left the last town, and every time my suspicions were founded.") I take a deep breath, preparing to spill the truth. ("Misty has been sticking her fingers down her throat. After most meals, she steals away, and brings whatever she's eaten back up. Consistently, for a while now.") Ash props himself up on one elbow, so he can stare at me.
"Why, if you knew all this, why didn't you tell me?" He speaks desperately, with accusation heavy in the tone. "Why wait until now, when things have changed so much?"
("I don't know, I can't answer.") It's true, I can't. I have no valid reason for this concealment. ("But I guess I was hoping that this would resolve itself without you needing to know. I didn't want to trouble you, and look where that silly idea has got me.") Up shit creek, that's where.
"Misty....." Ash's elbow gives way, and he lands in a state of abject shock. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't I see what was going on right under my eyes?"
("I didn't see Hazel's story coming either. Come on Ash, the hardest things to see in life are the ones right under your nose. We all know that.") He still looks as guilty as one who had unwittingly committed all seven deadly sins in one night.
"There's no excuse-" I interrupt brusquely, sensing his mood.
("Why do you need an excuse? You're not responsible! You're no mind reader, you're not psychic, you're not her guardian angel either!") I let my fire quills flare up in emphasis. ("Don't blame yourself for this. If you've got something you should apologise for, it's not following up your real ideals. You want Misty. Want her more than success, than victory. If that was what mattered to you now, you wouldn't have cared who you celebrated with.") I soften my sound now, sensing that my message has got through. ("What you have is too much to waste or too deep to skim over. Don't let it die Ash, please. Don't let it die. There is too much to live for to let this love sink below the surface. Stand up. Go to her, take her simple words of anger and bemusement. It's the blood that runs through your veins, this love, the heart which pumps within you. Live it. Please, for her sake, your sake, and mine. I don't think I could stand myself if I sat and watched all this slip away.") The last letter of my impassioned speech fades to nothingness, but I can feel the impact resonating all around me. I just gaze into the middle distance for a few minutes as I calm down, before looking to my companion. Any guilt in Ash's face has gone, replaced by introspection. Good. I allow myself a smile of self-congratulation. Which turns into a whole body yawn, starting from somewhere around my feet and rising like The Phoenix from it's ashes.
"Tired, huh?" My friend sits slowly upright, tiredness clearly visible in his expression. "Me toooo-." Words blending seamlessly into a yawn, he reaches up to rub his bleary eyes.
("You'd better get back to camp.") I mutter, shaking my head to try to postpone sleep.
"Nah, it's late, I'm tired, and I probably wouldn't find my way back now." He lays down on his back again, lids growing heavy. "Besides, it's no more comfortable there, still sleeping on the ground." His eyes close slowly, and I feel mine following suit, my resistance ending. He murmurs a few final words as I'm suspended between awareness and the coma of sleep. "'Sides, I think it's best to give Misty the place to herself when she wakes up....."
("Well she never has been a morning person.....") I breathe in reply, just as the scales of consciousness tip to replace the waking world with the land of dreams.
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It's mid-morning now, and I'm panicking. Here at the camp, if you can call a random piece of woodland that, we're all set to go. Well, we being myself, Pikachu, Hazel and Misty. And that's the problem. We are Ash-less. Devoid of even a hint of Ketchum. And that leaves us in the long grass.
("Misty, you sure you don't know where he is?!") I growl quietly as Pikachu asks the same question she has every forty-two seconds for the last hour and a half.
"No." And the same answer. I don't know what happened yesterday. But it's bad.
("But you were with him last, didn't he say?") Obviously not, else Misty would know, you pillock.
"No. He didn't seem to know himself." That's one thing that makes me sure something has been said or done. Ash and Misty always know where each other are. Living in each other's pockets for six years is the main reason, along with their mutual affection. It's sort of like a security thing, even if they don't know where they're located, they're never truly lost when they're with each other. As I study every nuance of Misty's expression, between the scowl she seems to wear permanently now and faint lines of stress, I can see her aquamarine eyes searching. Reaching out for something they can't find, fumbling in the dark.
("Well, I guess we just keep waiting then.") Pikachu shrugs and goes back to counting leaves, ears perked for the sound of approach. Silence once again settles, like mist over a meadow.
"Ah, to hell with it, I'm going to have a swim." Hazel dives into her bag, withdraws her sky-blue swimming gear and a towel, and scoots off towards the nearby river. Seems like she's nervous as well. Pikachu watches her go idly, as a change from watching trees. Since we're all avoiding each other's eyes, it's tricky to find something interesting to look at. But I really want something to keep my mind off the possibility that Ash might be doing a Cyndaquil.
("Well, someone sure needs a lesson in patience.") Pikachu chuckles quietly, as we listen for the usual noises made when Hazel decides to go swimming. Not much for a minute or so, then a massive splash followed by a high-pitched shriek. She never bothers checking the temperature of the river before dive-bombing it. Although I doubt that it'd make much difference if she did.
"Uh, sorry I'm late." I jump ten feet in the air and spin around to see a tall figure standing only a few yards away, sheepish smile on his face.
("Ash!") I hurl myself at him, and feel Pikachu joining suit as we both crash into his arms, bowling him over.
("God, I was so worried! I didn't know where you'd gone!") I can sense the unspoken question from Pikachu, the one I was dreading the answer of. 'I didn't know if you were coming back.....'
"Hey, you didn't think I'd leave you all alone did you?" He hugs the both of us tightly, before we get off and allow him to stand up. He looks over to Misty. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Uh, how you feeling?" Both Ash and Misty seem to have turned to stone, expressions immovable as the strongest Oak.
"Fine."
"Good."
Silence, once again. Then.....
"Have we still got any sausages?" My dark-eyed friend gestures towards the pile of bags heaped against a willow. "I haven't had any breakfast yet, and my stomach doesn't like that fact one bit."
("Yeah.") Pikachu goes rummaging through the bags, emerging with some. They've just about gone off, since it's pretty hot, but so long as they're cooked properly they're still edible. Well, for someone who really likes them, I'm not much of a meat person.
"Good. I'll get a fire started." A few minutes of twig collection and some very deft lighting work later, there is a merry little blaze crackling away, saucepan, holding a few large pink sausages, sat delicately atop it.
("Where did you go last night?") Ash ceases poking the cooking food, and looks down to me.
"Nowhere special." I don't know if it's due to Misty's close proximity or just he doesn't want me to know, but he's keeping his cards close to his chest.
"Do I smell food?" Hazel appears pretty much on cue, undoubtedly drawn by the cooking scents wafting on the wind. Wearing a pretty short towel. Seems like she didn't think Ash would be here when she got back, judging by two facts:
One, she hasn't re-dressed, and
Two, she's just glomped him quite impressively, causing him to end up flat on his back for the second time in five minutes. The fact that he's just been pounced on by an apparently naked girl wearing what is little more than a flannel isn't lost on Ash either, judging by the glow emerging rapidly on his cheeks. Especially when she gets off him, and her makeshift clothing smoothly slips off. By the time it hits the floor he's wheeled around to face the other way, hands over eyes and saying every apology he can think of at great speed.
("You're evil, you know that?") I hear Pikachu chortling gleefully, and turn to look at Hazel, Ash doing the same. To see Hazel wearing a big smile.....and her two-piece swimming costume.
"I know. But I've been waiting for days to pull that trick on him." Hazel looks up at Ash coyly, and slips him a wink. "But don't worry Ashy-boy, next time the show might be no-holds-barred, only for you of course!" I stare at her, mouth flapping soundless as a Magikarp's as she flounces off to get changed properly.
"The scariest thing is that she would." Ash mumbles, sinking down to deal with the now browning sausages. I agree silently. Hazel is quite comfortable showing off her body. Even to extremes, if I hadn't been alert the other day, she would've walked out stark naked on Ash while he was training me to swim better. She said that she'd not known we were there (lie), that she always took a bath without anything on (lie) and also that Ash had been spying on her before (lie, well, I think so. Hope so too.) I really don't get why. Is she's trying to provoke something from Ash? Does she just like to show off? Or is it something deeper? I can't say.
("I know.") Something in my mind nags me that something was wrong in that whole scene. Can't pin it down.
"Well, they're almost done. I wonder if Misty would like some." Misty. Of course! She didn't make a sound the whole time Hazel was blatantly flirting with Ash, she didn't make a sound. I'd expect her to be spitting bullets!
("I'll ask her.") I scurry past Pikachu, who is burrowing through the bags in search of ketchup, no doubt, and to Misty who is leaning against a pine with a faraway look. ("Ash wants to know if you want some brunch.")
"Uh, no, I'm not hungry." I shrug to myself, and move back to Ash.
("She's not hungry.") He blinks slowly, before speaking cautiously, eyes still on the sizzling pan.
"Did she have any breakfast?" I think back with care, through the morning's activities.
("Nope, don't think so.") Ash nods once before looking up.
"Hey Misty, what did you have for breakfast?" The red-haired one is rattled out of her daze, seeming surprised at Ash's voice in her direction.
"Uh, well....." She looks from me to Pikachu, and back to me again. "Nothing much, really."
"So do you fancy some now? These sausages are done." He takes the saucepan from the fire, and spears each one of it's fat passengers carefully before sliding them off his fork onto a waiting plate.
"Nah, no thanks." Misty seems wary as she watches Ash put out the fire, and prises the ketchup bottle from Pikachu's determined hold.
"Ah, go on. We've got a long day of travelling to come, don't want you feeling faint do we?" Ash pours some of the thick red syrup onto a side of the plate, puts the bottle down, and proffers them up to her. She takes a step forward, hesitates, and then takes two back.
"Really, it's okay. I don't fancy meat right now, the smell is putting me off." Her nostrils twitch as she speaks, like she's sniffing the air. Sounds fair to me.
"Ignore that, it's the fat in the pan." Ash picks one of the four darkened links up, dips the end in the pool of sauce and takes a bite. "Tastes pretty good to me."
"Nah." Misty eyes the plate with a curious mix of expressions. Half revulsion, half desire. Strange.
"Come on, take one!" Ash takes a second bite from his impromptu breakfast before leaning towards Misty with the dish held out before him. "They'll go cold if you don't. Besides, you'll feel sick if you don't eat in this weather." He almost seems to spell out the last sentence, still leaning forward with an inviting smile. I gaze skywards, fully in agreement when I see a blue canopy once again hovering above me.
("Yeah, he's right. Hurry up and take one before Hazel comes back and scoffs the lot.") Ash smiles and nods in assent.
"See, I'm not that crazy, am I?" Misty shudders, despite the growing heat as the sun rises high into the sky. She casts a searching glance around the camp, fixing on Pikachu and me for a moment, before returning attention to Ash.
"Why don't you offer them to the Pokemon first? I'm sure they're hungry." My companion sighs quietly, and turns his head to me.
"Fancy brunch?" Even though I already know that I don't, something in Ash's gaze warns me that yes is not the answer he wants to hear.
("No, I'm good.") He smiles faintly, before calling to Pikachu.
"How about you?" Pikachu, who is half-way down the neglected ketchup bottle, stops and nods once. Ash flips her a sausage with a little more force than I would've predicted, and it bounces off her nose before she manages to catch it while juggling with her sauce-filled container. "Don't forget that's the last sauce we have until we hit civilisation. When it's gone you're back on the wagon." She ignores the warning, and proceeds to try and force the sausage through the neck of the bottle, despite the bottle being about two sizes too small, to dip it in the ketchup still remaining.
("Damn. It's stuck.") Pikachu tries to pull the securely lodged sausage from the hole, and only succeeds in breaking it in half, with one half ending in her paws and the other filling the bottle neck. She studies the situation for a second, and then growls in annoyance. ("To coin a phrase, shit.")
"Well, that leaves two." Ash tears his eyes away from the Pokemon versus bottle confrontation and back onto Misty. "What do you say one each?"
"I say fine." Hazel breezes back into the group and snatches a sausage from the plate, taking a monstrous bite from it as she goes to pack away her costume and towels. Ash casts a furious look at her back before returning to the matter in hand, or should I say, on plate.
"Go on Misty, it's yours." She backs away, pale face anxious.
"No, really. You made them, you eat them."
"I made them for all of us. Take it." Misty leans gradually towards the last remaining link, reaches out, and then draws her hand away quickly. Her empty hand.
"Ash, I don't want it! Really!" She moans, eyes tense. Ash returns her look, seemingly calm. But I can just trace a hint of worry within his brown irises. "You said you were hungry, so you need the food more than I do. I'm fine." She sounds convincing, but I notice she breaks eye contact as she speaks.
"Please Misty, have something to eat." Ash's voice now holds a pleading element to it, almost begging Misty to accept. I'm nonplussed as to why he's so determined she accept. Probably he doesn't want her feeling weak for today's journey.
"Ash, uh, I..." A rare stroke of wind carries the scent of the food, albeit now beginning to congeal, through the air once more, and Misty seems to snap. "Okay, give it here."
"Sure thing." Ash smiles as Misty grasps the sausage, looks at him, and then devours it in a flash.
"Happy now?" She huffs, looking nauseous. Ash just nods in answer.
"Hey, got any more food?" Hazel calls, finally closing up her bag.
("Nope, all gone.") I answer cheerfully.
"Damn, that first one was tasty too." She grumbles, pushing chocolate hair away from her eyes.
"Okay people, everyone set?" Ash calls, stamping out the remains of the fire and dousing the ashes with water.
"Hang on Ash, I need to go to the toilet, won't be long." Misty answers cheerfully, heading towards some thicker vegetation.
"Okay Misty, but you've got one minute. I want to get moving, so if you're away a second longer I'm coming after you. Whatever you may be doing at the time." He means it too. We must be behind schedule or something.
"Whose fault is it that we're late starting anyway?" Misty calls out angrily in response, wheeling around to face the black-haired one.
"I know, but I want to make up for lost time, starting now." Misty takes a step back towards him, frustration flaring in her stare.
"Maybe I'll take my own good time, to make you wait like you made us!" She growls, glowering out from under her orange bangs.
"Well as I said, after a minute I'm coming after you and hauling you out. That's a promise." A war of words passes unsaid between them for a taut second before she turns and stalks off into deeper cover. Ash watches her go for a second, before turning to the rest of us. I'm guessing that both Hazel and Pikachu are as perplexed as I am about this sudden turn of mood. "And that goes for all of us." He continues, still in the same cold tone. "I wanted to do another mile yesterday and one already this morning, so we're going to have to keep stops to a minimum and quick until we break for some lunch. It's the twentieth today, we've only got three days left until Misty's exam, I want to get to Cerulean tomorrow. Right?"
"Yes, okay, okay, I get it." Hazel grouches, picking up her new khaki satchel. "It's a good thing I'm pleased to see you, else I'd give you hell all morning for being such a fuss-budget."
"Well, that's settled." Ash heaves his bag onto his shoulders, staggers sideways for a second, then adjusts to the weight. He glances down at his watch, and calls out "Ten seconds!"
"I'm here, I'm here!" Misty crashes her way back into the clearing. "You could've given me more than a minute, I'm not a guy for crying out loud!"
"Of course. It's pretty obvious, y'know?" She doesn't know what to say to that suggestive comment, so she just snarls under her breath while closing her own bag and easing it onto her shoulders, legs bowing dangerously as she does so.
"Why don't they have to carry something?" Hazel gestures first to Pikachu, then to me.
"Ever tried designing a backpack for someone with four legs?" Ash responds casually. I smile sweetly up at Hazel just to emphasise the point.
("We did have some in the past, but they were hard to fit, and kept breaking whenever I walked above a slow trot. Besides, it's not like I'm big enough to carry anything anyway.")
("And I am carrying something.") Pikachu adds, lifting up a clear bottle that half-full of a red liquid and still stoppered by a thick roll of meat.
"Girls, come on, we're off." Misty calls to us, as she moves after Ash's already darkening figure that is moving through the trees.
"Let's go." Hazel paces after Misty, with me at her side and Pikachu still fighting with the bottle behind us. I sigh in pleasure as a cooling wind begins to get up, signalling that we are beginning to get close to the Cerulean Sea. I glance up at my friend, who is struggling with a shoulder strap, and a cheeky smile pinching my mouth.
("You know, it feels so good to have the breeze on your back.")
"..."
("It makes me feel so light.")
"..."
("Almost as if you're walking free.")
"..."
("It seems to take the weight of the world off your shoulders.")
"...You want to shut the hell up?!"
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Don't forget to R&R, in the next chapter the diary writer is revealed, and things start heating up again!
Dan.