Chapter 3— The Husband Who Never Cared

Misty stood in the centre of a dark alley, holding a wrinkled map in her hand which she could not read due to the inky blackness of the night, feeling weak and light-headed, and quivering uncontrollably. She was not lost; her destination was in front of her, with the once golden lettering of the street address on the door ashen and covered in dirt. She closed her eyes as she let go of the map, and it was soon swept away by a brisk wind, flapping in the air as it took flight. The dusty lane was stirred up about her, dirtying her clothes, her skin; tainted her, as she had been tainted so long ago. She gripped her pendant, and let out a deep sigh as she recalled that fateful day.

One and a half years ago

Since the day that he left her, Misty had never been able to stir from the secluded country cottage. She could not bear to hear he had not lived; that the explosion had killed him, and he had been consumed by the flames. She no longer wept, and moaned, and sobbed for him; she was too tired for that now. Pikachu—her sole companion in her misery—sat by the hearth-fire, looking pensive and melancholy, unable to do more than bestow upon her the sweet sympathy that a gentle creature such as he could give. He too had witnessed the explosion, and judging by Misty's looks and ways, believed him to be dead; and he could not but be affected.

So now Misty sat in her rocking-chair, her arms hanging languidly at her side, and she stared into space as she thought of what might have been. If only she would have detained him a minute longer—she would not be consumed by such uncertainty. But it was not so much the uncertainty that made her shake and tremble, but the fear that he really was dead; and she could not ascertain the truth; not without risking losing the little hope she had left.

She had never had any visitors. All her business at the gym, all her influences in her hometown of Cerulean City, she conducted by letter; but she no longer did these duties with her previous fervour and concern. Her heart, she thought, had died with him; and she was nothing without him by her side, looking so tenderly into her eyes as he had once done.

But today she had a visitor. He did not knock, did not stand on any ceremony; he came in, and his presence was scarcely known till he was before her, and staring earnestly into her eyes. She looked up, very much surprised, but not betraying it through her body language; and as her eyes scanned his dark hair and dark eyes, the familiar shape of face—no, it could not be!

"Ash?" she asked in disbelief. Was she hallucinating? But the man standing across from her only laughed.

"No, Miss Waterflower; I am his brother, Charcoal." She stared in disbelief before she slumped again; her heart had momentarily begun to bind itself together again but the moment he said that, it broke again. She sighed and stared at the ground, dropping her head so that her tangled mop of ginger hair hung over her face. He frowned at this, but brushed it off. Misty couldn't look him in the eye. He was just too much like Ash. If she looked, she feared that she might just start to cry and collapse at his feet.

"Miss Waterflower…I know of my brother's condition. I tracked you for one thing: to get your hand in marriage," Charcoal said. Misty leapt up in repulsion, her eyes burning with rage at the very notion. Who did this man think he was?

"Get out. Now," she spat, her voice heavy with hatred. He simply smirked and gripped a shoulder in his hand and she looked away instantly. There was just too much resemblance…they were almost identical. But Charcoal's eyes didn't hold the same warmth and love as Ash.

"No. Miss Waterflower, I require you marry me. You needn't even change your name. All I want is power over Cerulean city," he said, bringing his face closer to hers and forcing her to look at him. Their noses were almost touching. She tightened her fists, quite prepared to beat the pushy man away.

"What if I refuse?" she hissed between gritted teeth.

"Then I'll tell your whether your beloved is alive or not. Do you really want to risk that hope? The only thing that's keeping you alive?" he asked. Misty tried to keep her gaze steady but then she collapsed into his arms, sobbing heavily.

"No. No. Please, no," she said. She couldn't lose the only thing keeping her alive. The tiny flicker of hope that maybe Ash was alive somewhere, training.

"Good."

Present day

"Hello, Miss Waterflower," an all-too-familiar voice said as a figure approached. She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, not able to face Charcoal right now. She could hear his footsteps coming closer and shivered as he rested a hand on her shoulder.

"What do you want?" she said between gritted teeth as she forced her eyes open and watched a Meowth slink across a fence at the end of the alleyway.

"Simple. I'm here to tell you that not only do I need an heir…I also need a sacrifice," he hissed and then placed both hands on her shoulders and pushed her roughly to the ground, pulling hard on her hair and causing her to yelp in pain. She scrambled and tried to get free but he was too strong and overpowered her easily. He pinned her down.

"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!" she screamed before her screams of protests died down into deep sobs of anguish and pain. As she lay, losing consciousness, she could only groan three tiny words: "Help me, Ash…"

Me: OMG, is our hero gonna save her in time?
KKK: You'll have to keep reading to find out.
Me: I can't wait to find out…
KKK: Don't forget to review our story.
Me: And don't forget…
Both: AAML FOREVER!