Chapter 24

"This is the cell they want you in," James sighed nervously, stopping in front of a large iron door. The Team Rocket member had been on edge ever since confiding his grave secret to Ash.

"I see," Ash murmured, not attempting to conceal his dread. "I have to stay in there, huh?"

James nodded timidly. "Yeah. Our boss has a luxury chamber though. Too bad all of you other trainers are not as important as he is. You all must sleep on the floor," James frowned drearily, "I'm sorry for you. If it makes you feel better, my room is little better."

Ash allowed a faint smile. James always was the most thoughtful Rocket.

A question blurted from Ash's lips: "Who is your boss anyway?"

James squeaked anxiously. "Top secret! Now. . ." James unlocked the cell door. "In you go, but remember: don't tell anyone, even your cellmate about what I told you!"

Ash tilted his head. "You know who my cellmate is?"

James rolled his eyes and gestured into the dismally dark cell. "Go on, no more wasting time. Don't make me regret sticking my neck out for you, kid."

Ash hesitated, permitting his drowsy eyes a moment to survey the cramped enclosed area. A shaft of pale light splattered upon the back wall from a fixture in the hall way. Ash could tell that the cell walls were composed of solid stone. But other than that one section of wall the room was engulfed by shadows. "Um, I don't think anyone else in here. I'm alone?"

Ash was not certain if he was comfortable being alone in this awful cell. But he did not particularly want to be locked up with a stranger either.

"Go on!" James' patience were spent. He pushed Ash forward. The push was really no more than a slight poke to the shoulder; hardly enough force behind it to uproot a flower. However, Ash knew that procrastinating could very well land James in some major trouble. Therefore Ash allowed his body to overreact to the push, and stumbled forward into the gloomy cell. The door was quickly shut and locked behind him.

Ash worked his eyes against the shadows. "H-hello?" he whispered, "helloooo? Anyone in here or what?" There was no reply. Ash instantly felt foolish for talking to himself. He noticed a bundle of white fabric in one corner. Sheets? Is that my bed?

A silent moment lingered by. Ash began to feel curiously awkward. He decided to crouch down on the flooring. He was now alone with his thoughts . . . and that, more than anything, frightened him. For his thoughts instantly magnetized to her . . . and how James' horrendous information could possibly affect her. . .

Misty is with Gary right now. She's not alone. I know he's going to keep her safe. If there is one thing Gary has proven it's that he can survive. Most people think he's really selfish. But . . . he's not. Not at all. He will keep her safe. I trust what he told me. An uncomfortable suspicion ruffled his mind: Gary. . .when he talked about Misty. . . the look in his eyes when he said her name. . .it was. . .almost like. . . he might actually, possibly. . .

"Don't hurt me. . pl.. .ea-se. I'm just. . . an artist. . . "

Ash's thoughts were startled as a small whimpering emitted from the far corner of the cell. The sound was coming from the white bundle. It's not a pile of sheets. It's a person clothed in white like I am.

Ash stood instantly and leaned in the direction of the sobbing person.

"Don't hurt me!"

It's a guys voice . . . he sounds so familiar.

"Who's there?" Ash asked softly. "I won't hurt you."

"Who- are . . . you?" the terrified guy wept his words.

"I'm Ash. You?"

"Ash!" the source of the voice shuffled closer to Ash, allowing light to grace his pale bruised features.

"T-Tracey!" Ash cried, barely recognizing the battered face of his dear friend. Tracey's thin frame quivered fearfully. His right eye was swollen shut, forcing him to see through a blood encrusted slit. Fresh blood dribbled from his nose, his upper lip was twice the size of normal due to further swelling. The white robe clothing him was splattered everywhere with rusty colored stains. Ash knew that Tracey's injuries were recent; for he had seen Tracey battle only hours ago. At that time the bandage around his forehead and the cuts on his arms had been the only signs of abuse. He looks like someone tried to kill him! Ash realized in horror, instinctively touching his own sore ribs. That guy Derrick! It seemed like he wanted me dead earlier too . . . could he have done this to Tracey as well?

Tracey trembled feverishly, he seemed thoroughly confused. "Ash? Is it really you?" a woeful groan fled from his mouth. "No! They are trying to trick me! I won't fall fort it! Damn you! Don't hurt me! S-Stay back!"

Tragic emotions overpowered Ash; the realization was graver than he was capable of comprehending. Tracey was terrified . . . terrified of him!

What's wrong with him? Ash took a careful step forward; he let his hands rest limply at his sides as though he were approaching a frightened animal. I don't want to appear threatening.

"Tracey. Look, it's me! Ash. Your friend. Don't you recognize me?" Ash drenched in tone with gentleness.

Tracey shuddered violently again, recoiling as Ash neared. "No!" Tracey wailed hysterically. "I won't fall for it! Even if you are Ash then you hate me. If you-you are not Ash then you'll hurt me!"

Ash shook his head. "Tracey! It IS me! I don't hate you. I could never hate you . . . never!" Ash's voice cracked as helplessness devoured him completely. "Tracey, you're scaring me! Snap out of this!"

Tracey began sobbing louder. He pulled his knees into his chest and pressed his face against them as though hoping to disappear from the world. "It's . . m-y f-au. . lt. I. . .l-et th. . em. . .get Ash. . I was w-e-ak. You don't-know.. .what. . hap-pens. . . you don't know him. You don't k-kn. . .ow an-ything abo. .ut. . . Ash! You d. .on't kn-o-w Ash!" Tracey's words were slurred; Ash was straining to decipher the meanings behind the weeping.

"None of this is your fault!" Ash snapped fearfully. "What did they do to you?"

He's lost it! Ash determined dreadfully. He's acting totally crazy! But why? How?

"I know what happens," Tracey whispered quickly; his crying suddenly ceased and he bolted upright; upright as though he had never been upset at all. Tracey's eyes popped open, focusing momentarily upon Ash. Tracey's sight then began frantically darting around the cell. "Who else is here? Who?" his paranoia was uncontrollable.

"Nobody is in here. It's just us. Just us! You and me, Tracey," a sole glimmering tear slipped from Ash. His . . . his mind is gone. . .

Tracey continued to wildly search the cell with his eyes.

"Tracey!" Ash barked. "We are alone. Why don't you believe me?"

"I know! I KNOW!" Tracey's tone was insistent, as if desperately trying to convince Ash of an unknown fact.

"Okay! You know! You know of something. Then what is it?" Ash entailed, hoping he was responding correctly.

Tracey gasped gaudily. "No! You won't get me to tell you. I can't tell anyone. But I know, you know? I KNOW! I know what happens to the winner!"

Ash's chest hammered painfully at Tracey's words. He knows the winner dies? How did he find out? James didn't mention telling anyone else. I can't tell Tracey that I know too. I promised James I wouldn't. Maybe he'll relax if I play dumb?

"What happens?" Ash asked timidly, trying to sound as clueless as possible.

Tracey buried his head in his hands. "It's not so much what they do, it's how they do it. Beyond . . . beyond evil! It won't happen to me though. I'm just an artist. I lost!" he screamed triumphantly. "I LOST! I LOST! I LOST!"

Ash staggered backward. What the hell have they done to him!

"I LOST! I LOST!" Tracey continually shouted his words over and over. Ash ground his teeth together loudly, raising his hands in attempt to shield his ears from the maddening sound.

Good God, how do I get him to shut up? He seemed mentally stable when he was in the arena battling Morty. What could have happened since then! Granted, I don't know the first thing about crazy people, but this is one of my best friends. I need to help him! He must have learned something . . . something so awful he's going mad . . . or maybe he's not crazy at all! Perhaps he is just so drugged up right now he can't tell black from white? What does he know about these Revivalists that I don't? How does the winner die!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Oak is becoming quite the obedient peon," Derrick announced to Misty as he opened the cell door. "Once again he let me rope him without even a slight struggle."

Gary glanced up from his feet and briefly met Misty's tired eyes. Her fair features were immersed by concern; smears of scarlet swelled within her eyes.

She's been crying, Gary realized miserably. His cheeks tightened as both rage and sympathy writhed inside him. The two emotions conflicted agonizingly within his heart -- his inner clash dwarfing even the fiercest of Pokemon battles. Gary desperately wanted to strangle Derrick for making him leave her alone in this awful cell. . .leaving her alone here to cry. The mere thought of Misty sobbing and afraid . . . without him there to comfort her . . . it was more than Gary's mind could endure.

Gary's desire to harm Derrick was suddenly overpowered by an intense need to be at Misty's side. He felt compelled draw her into his arms. . . to gently stroke her soft hair. . .hold her chilled little hand. . . and to assure her that he would never again leave her side. Never again.

Misty stood upright, stiffening, as Derrick roughly began unroping Gary. Once Gary was completely freed from his bonds he was shoved brutally forward. Gary toppled to his knees, but somehow managed to keep his broken ankle from slamming against the flooring.

"I'll be back in a few," Derrick declared loudly, as though his message were a joyous one. "Bye," Derrick closed the door behind him and was gone.

Misty was kneeling at Gary's side in an instant. He immediately felt her cool fingers on his jaw line; her small hands carefully slid from his face to his arms and she helped to push him into a sitting position against the wall. Gary shut his eyes and exhaled; a twinge of shame echoed within him. He had succumbed to Derrick's brutality. He had allowed himself to be controlled. I'm doing this for her. But she doesn't know that. To Misty I'm becoming weak. Gary glanced to the side, unable to meet her distressed eyes. All at once he became terrified by the notion that she was possibly thinking less of him.

"Gary," she breathed his name softly, "you are. . . so pale. . ." she seemed to choke back the words as though speaking them caused her physical pain. "Please, tell me you are alright?"

Sighing, he at last peered up at her; his enthralling blue eyes melted instantaneously within her own. During this precious moment there were no such things as mental guards, no such things as false fronts . . . empty stares never existed. . .

During this seemingly inconceivable moment Gary was gaping directly inside of Misty's soul . . . and her own eyes were freely consuming his most intimate thoughts and instincts.

She's vulnerable. So trusting. Innocent. Genuine. Brave. Selfless. She wants me to hold her . . . a bitter lump of sorrow lodged inside his throat. How can I save her?

Gary tenderly enfolded his arms around her shivering frame. He pressed his lips to her right ear, gently nuzzling against her. Misty relaxed immediately, gratefully allowing her head to rest against his. She leaned into him, her hands gripping the fabric on his back as though her very life-force were bound to the threads. Gary's right hand stroked the back of her neck, his fingers enjoying the warmth of her hair over them. With his left hand he caressed the small of her back; his fingers moving in gentle semi-circles, massaging her tense flesh.

Gary felt Misty shift, her head raising just high enough for her mouth to graze his ear. "What did he do to you?" she asked quietly, her hot breath pleasing his cold ear. "Gary, I was so afraid of what Derrick would do to you. I thought he might have killed you . . . again . . . every time you leave my sight I feel like it's the last time. . ." her words were dissolve by a mournful whimper.

"Misty. . ." voicing her name renewed his courage.

"Yes?" Misty's hands glided up his back, now finding and squeezing his shoulders. "Please talk to me. Tell me what they did to you? You're so quiet. It's not like you. I'm . . . I'm nervous."

I'm making her nervous! Gary reprimanded himself for being at such a loss for words.

"Misty, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm just really tired. They took quite a bit more blood than Derrick had initially promised. But I'm just fine now."

"I'm glad," she murmured contently. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Gary suddenly felt as though Misty had physically gripped hold of his beating heart. He trembled lightly for reasons unknown to him. He moved his face so that he was once again gazing inside of her susceptible eyes.

"I will never leave you. I told you before, I am going to be here for you, Misty," he intended to keep his word.

A shy smile surfaced upon her lips, "okay then."

"Let's get some sleep finally. What do you say?" Gary asked, prying his eyes from her beautifully trusting face.

"Yeah," Misty veered her position so that she was now leaning back against him; he nestled his chin in her hair. "So," she began through a yawn, "who needed your blood?"

Gary's heart seemed to falter in his chest at her abrupt question. He knew that Misty had felt him tense though their close contact. He knew because she gasped.

"Who! What's wrong?" she demanded, craning her neck to face him again. Fear had now been hastily woven within the former blanket of trust upon her face.

Gary paused. He did not want to lie to her. But if I tell her the truth . . . she'll be so upset. Can she handle anymore . . .?

"Gary!" panic devoured her eyes.

I won't lie to her. . .

"Misty, listen: first off, let me assure you that he's fine now. Probably doing better than we are right now-"

"Out with it!" she required crassly.

"Ash. He had a run-in with Derrick. I don't really know the details," Gary's tone was apologetic; on a brooding level he felt guilty . . . Derrick only beat-up Ash because he reminded him of ME.

"No!" Misty panted, petrified. "Not Ash. . ."

In this instant Gary saw something alter deep within Misty's very core; something that he could never pin-point for certain . . . something devastating. It was as though an emotion, or a memory, that Misty treasured beyond all others had suddenly been rashly shattered.

Her inner misery lanced inside him ruthlessly. His expression flinched as his breath bonded unwillingly to the center of his throat. "Misty," Gary forced her name through his sparse breath. "Ash is okay. He's fine!"

At last Misty seemed to comprehend his words. She blinked, releasing him from her overwhelming sorrow. Gary shuddered, taken aback by her response. He had not expected a calm or content reaction. Rather he had fully prepared for a fearful one, for her even to weep. But that despairing look that had just consumed her eyes. . . that despair had managed to consumed him as well. . .My heart. . . feels like it's breaking. . .

"I'm sorry," he stammered genuinely. "I shouldn't have told you . . . I. . ."

"You say Ash is okay now. I believe you," she uttered quietly. "Gary, you saved his life. . ."

Gary's lower lip shivered. "It was just my blood, Misty. Not me."

Misty's arms were tightly around him again, she pressed her face against his shoulder. "Thank you," she cried softly.

He returned her strong embrace and dipped his face downward, laying a soothing kiss upon her forehead. He did not know what else to do.

"I can't lose him either," she whispered at last. "I can't ever lose Ash."

"You won't," the vow burst from Gary's lips before he even realized it. "I don't know what I can possibly do, but I promise you, Misty. I promise that you and Ash will both walk out this mess alive and well."

"I don't know how you can make a promise like that, Gary Oak, but . . . when you tell me. . . I do believe you. I don't know why, but I do."

"Good," Gary exhaled, feeling her frame ease. "Look at it this way, if anything Ash is better off now."

"How . . . so?"

"Well," Gary grinned meekly. "Ash has got Oak blood in his veins now! That's bound to give his lame hide some real courage!"

Misty granted an amused grunt. "I suppose so," she agreed, a glimmer of zest creeping back into her voice.

Gary reached for her hands and fiddled playfully with her fingers. "Sleep?" his word was more like pleading than an offer.

Misty never had an opportunity to respond.

Derrick was already back, standing in the door frame. "Hope you slept well," he sneered direly. "It's meeting time, kids."