Meowth ran.

It wasn't often that you'd catch him on all fours, but he had to admit it was faster, and the situation called for drastic measures. Although Carter was out of sight, he wasn't far ahead, and he and the few others accompanying the chase knew which way he'd gone. The Rocket boss was outnumbered.

Throughout that entire, manic journey, one thought had remained at the forefront of his mind: Jessie will be here soon.

Given the speed at which they were going combined with the headstart, and it wasn't surprising that she hadn't caught up yet. For a while, he could rest on the assumption that she was on her way. But when their progress ground to a halt as they hit the human traffic also trying to get downstairs, that line of reasoning grew less and less sound.

He kept waiting for her to show up, for her face to appear at the back of the crowd. It didn't.

That wasn't necessarily a bad sign- she could have just lost their trail, after all. Could have.

There were a lot of could haves.

He wasn't going to gamble on it; the others would just have to make do without him. Weaving through the forest of legs, he took off the way he'd came, pouring every scrap of energy he had left into keeping his legs moving. His chest was dry and heaving with gasps, but he wasn't going to let something so trivial slow him down.

Tracking was not his strongest suit, but if there was one thing he was confident in, it was recognising the scents of his teammates. In such a large building, however, picking hers out from the conglomerate of others would be tricky.

Meowth stopped, listened. There were too many sounds- his hearing wasn't going to be of much help, that was clear. And then he caught it: the slightest scent of her shampoo, sweet and tinged with berries.

Left.

Sure enough, it got stronger as he kept going- she was somewhere around here. But what if when he found her she was-

No. She couldn't be. He couldn't face it. Premature tears stung his eyes and marred his vision.

Straight ahead, left again, then-

"Meowth!"

His movements halted clumsily, and he almost fell over, but he couldn't have cared less as Jessie closed the space between them. That same relief he'd felt when she and James had come back from Carter's office unscathed filled him in an instant, spilling over with the tears in his eyes.

"Jessie-"

The sight of the blood dripping from her sleeve froze his tongue in his mouth, and he stared at her, wide-eyed and full of horror.

"Jessie! What- oh jeez, oh-"

She used the hand that wasn't pressing on her shoulder to clasp his own.

"Calm down- it's just my arm," she reassured him, but even as she did so her voice was frail and shaky.

"We gotta get ya outta here," Meowth told her, eyes still locked on the scarlet aftermath of the gunshot. "Dat needs treatin' before it gets any worse."

"No way," Jessie shot back, a little more clarity in her tone but still ultimately sounding disoriented. "We're not leaving till we've got him."

"I t'ink we have," Meowth replied. "Dere were hardly any of his bodyguards left, an' da guys dat went ahead must have caught up to him by now- come on, before someone finds us!"

Jessie glared. "I'm not-"

"Jess, listen ta me. You're in no shape to do anythin', even if we did go an' find him. If it turns out he is still alive an' kickin' after all dis, den ya need to be alive to do somethin' about it!" He implored her with a look. "Please, Jessie. We've done all we can."

A gunshot sounded not very far away.

"Please!"

Jessie knew he was right. It was enough of a struggle just to walk in a straight line- she was in no shape to take anyone on.

"James," she blurted. "We can't leave him."

"We ain't gonna," Meowth assured her. "We'll get ya somewhere safe, where you can hide- just in da forest or somethin'- an' den I'll go straight back ta find him."

She didn't reply, and Meowth saw that the colour had drained from her face. She was barely managing to stand. He tapped her leg desperately.

"C'mon Jess, stay awake!" he pleaded, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to carry her by himself. She groaned, nodding her head, and let him lead her over to the nearest window.

They wouldn't make it out alive if they tried taking the stairs- of that Meowth was certain. Jumping from this height was hardly an inviting option, particularly with Jessie in her current state, but he was confident they'd come out of it relatively unhurt. If there was one thing years of blasting off had done in their favour, it was building their resistance to long falls.

He took longer than he would've liked fiddling with the lock and then prying the window up; the chanting in his head telling him to hurry only served to slow him down from the stress it induced. As soon as it was open, he beckoned Jessie over. She peered down wearily.

"Do we... Do we jump?" she slurred, and there was genuine confusion on her face. Meowth grimaced: she was getting delirious. How much blood had she lost, and how much more could she afford to?

"We jump," he affirmed, meeting her eyes to make sure his words were getting through. She nodded slowly.

Meowth pulled himself up onto the ledge, and she followed suit, dragging her weight with obvious strain.

"Keep pressin' on ya shoulder, okay Jess?"

"Mm hmm."

A formidable drop down greeted them below, its end marked by solid asphalt. It was going to hurt, but there was no time for fear. If it meant that they could patch up that gunshot wound, a little pain was a small price to pay.

He readied his will. Jessie was still wearing that unsure look- at least she wouldn't be scared, he supposed.

"When we land, you need ta roll onto your good side," Meowth instructed. "Like in trainin', remember?"

Annoyance flashed across her face.

"I'm not stupid, Meowth," she told him.

Dat's it- stay here, Jess.

In near unison, they plummeted.


Before he even realised he was awake, James could feel the movement beneath him. It seeped into his half-dreams, an inexplicable sensation that only became truly real when a bump jolted him into consciousness.

Dark. The lingering ripples of pain at the side of his temple. A low hum- constant shudders of motion under him. He raised his head only to have it hit something: a ceiling of some sort. With his hands, he felt his surroundings, sick with confusion and fear. His palms traced the surface above him; it felt fuzzy, like it was lined with some kind of material. There wasn't room enough above him to sit up, so he shifted forwards on his back, reaching with his legs. They hit a wall before he could straighten them, and it dawned on James just how small the space he occupied must have been.

Panic took the reins. He moved his hands behind him, finding more wall mere inches from the back of his head. Cold air brushed his arms, and he realised that his overshirt was gone.

What was going on? He couldn't make sense of it, this situation he'd awoken at the mercy of.

Then another bump knocked him upwards, and it clicked. He was in the trunk of a car.

The realisation didn't exactly comfort him. It only rose more questions- who had put him here, and why? Where were they going? What was their intention?

He could check the police off the list, unless they'd made some weird changes to prisoner transportation. No, this felt much more sinister than the authorities.

But the whos and whys didn't matter right now. More pressing was the issue of getting out, before the question of his fate was answered by him meeting it.

He felt at the walls again, and found the one to his right curved outwards slightly. Concluding that it had to be the door of the trunk, he ran his hands over the floor around it, searching desperately for some latch or button that might pop it open from inside.

A few minutes passed, and he'd gotten nowhere. His heart shuddered under his ribs. James was painfully aware that with each minute that passed, he and his captor were covering significant ground. How long would it be before they reached their destination?

Nothing else for it.

He swiveled himself round so he was facing the door with his back against the wall, brought his knees to his chest, and launched a kick with both legs. His heels hit the door with an audible slam, the force of the attack juddering along his calves; he retracted his legs to try again.

Another slam, and still the door didn't give. He whimpered both in frustration and dread. 'Calm down,' he told himself, and began to ready the next kick when he felt the car slow.

James froze up. He attempted to ease the swarm of nerves that had been sent fluttering about his abdomen- maybe the driver had just reached a traffic light, a stop sign. This didn't necessarily mean that-

The steady purring of the engine shut off, leaving everything still, horribly still.

A car door opened, muffled through the walls, and he didn't dare move. Terror had him paralyzed, his breath trembling in the black. Footsteps, coming round, getting closer. With what remained of his instincts, James braced himself, preparing to-

The rattle of the handle, and light hit his eyes with uncomfortable intensity. He couldn't see properly, but that didn't stop him from springing up and out onto the side of the road, falling awkwardly on his stomach. He pushed himself up with his hands, still semi-blind, stumbling with pain stabbing at his head. A hand grabbed him by the arm before he could even try to run. He yelped and tried to yank himself free.

"Fuck- take it easy you moron!"

James stopped struggling against the grip, almost certain whose voice it had been but turning to check just in case. Cassidy scowled back at him, jerking her head at the parked vehicle- a maroon four-seater.

"What the hell was that about? Are you trying to destroy my car?" she snapped, punctuating her words by squeezing his arm tighter. James winced as he gaped back at her.

"What... What's going on?" he blurted. "Jessie, Meowth- are they okay?"

Cassidy let him go, practically throwing his arm back at him, and let out a loud sigh.

"I have no idea what happened to those two," she said bluntly. "And as for what's going on, I saved your ass, that's what." At his stunned silence, she groaned. "Okay. So you faint in the elevator, and I figure that if you're found like that next to Carter's corpse, they're gonna shoot you first and ask questions later. So I get my houndoom to carry you, because I'm nice like that, and he takes you with me through a back fire exit. Then I boost a car and voila, here we are, and you're returning the favour by kicking the shit out of my door."

"Wh- You put me in the trunk!" James retaliated.

"Yeah, because your face is still on Unova's Most Wanted," Cassidy said, giving him an accusatory look. "We've gotta cross a border if we're gonna get out of here, and the only way to do that is to smuggle you through."

James dropped his frown a little, but still muttered: "You could have given me some sort of warning." Then the full weight of what she'd said hit him. "Wait- cross a border?" he exclaimed. "What do you mean?"

Groaning, Cassidy rolled her eyes, teetering on the edge of the curb where concrete met with grass.

"I'm gonna spell this out for you," she said, and the patronising tone she adopted wasn't lost on him. "I just murdered the leader of Team Rocket. As far as everyone's concerned, you're an accessory. And there are going to be some agents who aren't gonna be thrilled with us, and they're gonna make it their life mission to return the favour." She gave him a sarcastic smile. "Do. You. Understand?"

He didn't respond to the taunt.

"I'm not leaving without Meowth and Jessie," he said plainly.

"Don't be stupid," Cassidy growled. Her usual contempt for him had suddenly crumbled to make way for something more dangerous; her fists were clenched tight at her sides, eyes cold and piercing. "If they're dead, they're dead. If they're not, they'll be far away from headquarters by now. Either way, you can't do shit about it until the heat dies down."

His next breath came out in a sputtering sob, and James sank to the ground, crouching with his head on his knees. He couldn't stop the cries from leaving him, could only sit there, shaking, digging his fingernails into the sides of his head.

She was right: he was powerless to help them. In his attempt to come to their aid, all he'd achieved was a head injury. Yet again, he'd failed. Only this time the consequences were uncalculable. They might be dead. Because of him, they might be-

"Calm down."

James bit his tongue to stop himself from making more noise, and looked up at Cassidy. She looked uncertain, almost awkward at seeing him like this.

"Look..." She sighed. "If there's one thing those partners of yours are good at, it's surviving. I'd wager they're fine."

The trembles rippling down his body from his shoulders didn't cease, but his breathing lightened a little, less heavy in his throat. There was truth to her words, regardless of the doubt that surrounded them. Just that snippet of hope felt like a lifeline in that moment. He might have been clinging to little more than a splinter of wood in the midst of a hurricane, but it was better than drowning.

Cassidy averted her gaze, looking back to the car.

"I've got a friend in Johto- that's where we're heading," she murmured. "It should be far enough away to keep us safe." She saw him open his mouth to protest, and added: "You don't have to stay there, but trust me when I say that you've got to get out of Unova. At least for now."

Sniffling, James rose to his feet again. He didn't want to agree with her, but he did. It was run or die.

"Hold on." Cassidy went back round to the front of the car, and returned with a navy coat slung over her arm. She held it out to him. "I took off your overshirt when you were out cold, just in case someone found you- no sense in announcing up front we're Team Rocket," she said. "It's not much of a disguise, but put this on. Better than nothing."

He took the coat; it had more weight to it than he'd expected, and felt smooth and squishy under his fingers. As he threaded his arm through the sleeve, Cassidy went off again, this time returning with a bundle of blankets and a couple of bags of groceries that she piled into the open trunk.

"All right- we need to get going, we've lost enough time as it is," she told him. "There's food and water in there if you need it. Once we get to the border- I'll shut off the radio when we're close so you know- get under the blankets and don't move. If you get caught, you tell them you snuck in while I was getting gas, okay? I'm getting to Johto no matter what, so you'd better back me up."

Once his tired mind had processed the onslaught of instructions, the realisation struck him: she wanted him to get back in the trunk. Through the remnants of his tears, his face twisted with confusion.

"But... Can't I just sit in the back until we get close to the border?" he suggested.

"No. What if we get pulled over or something? I'm not gonna be able to flirt my way out of a ticket if there's a fugitive in the back seat. Just wait it out for a few hours, and then you can sit wherever you want." Cassidy flicked her hand, adopting something closer to her usual demeanour. "Or get lost and do your own thing. Your choice."

He didn't usually react well to that kind of harshness, but something about hearing it from her now was almost comforting. It took him back to safer days.

James gave a small nod, and stumbled back towards the trunk in acquiescence. His coordination still wasn't right- he suspected that he'd sustained more than a little damage to his head. Nothing permanent, he hoped.

He crawled in, settling on his side. Cassidy reached a hand up to the door.

"Don't eat all my food," shesaid, and shut him in.


After shifting the blankets around a bit, James found that it was actually quite comfortable. He was still giddy with worry for his teammates, but told himself that the most productive thing he could do right then was rest. With the added padding of the coat, he was significantly warmer, and felt the lull of sleep pull at his eyelids. He didn't put up much of a fight.

Dreams melted together into a mismatched reel of half-stories, confused scenes that would abruptly give way to a new script. In his small patches of consciousness, there was the drowned-out hum of the radio: the well-spoken voices of news reporters, advertisements, pop songs.

Until there wasn't. It was with a burst of adrenaline that James drifted awake once more to be met with the lone rumble of the engine. That near silence was the signal.

He scrambled to pull at the blankets, tugging them over his head. He wasn't sure how well-hidden he was, but tried to make himself as flat as possible under the heap.

For a few minutes, there was no notable difference, but then the steady speed at which they'd been traveling began to slow into a pattern of stopping and starting. That routine carried on for a short while, until the next start didn't come.

James held his eyes open against the dark, his senses going into overdrive as he struggled to pick out the barest of sounds.

Cassidy's voice came first. It was muffled, like he was underwater listening to her speak above the surface, but he could at least make out the mood of her tone: casual, friendly. Then a man's voice.

He both heard and felt the opening of car doors as the sporadic discussion continued. It was getting clearer, the odd word making it to his ears in one piece. Nothing he picked up sounded confrontational, which was a small mercy.

Steps crunched on gravel, circling round, closer to him. James chewed at his lip with shallow breaths.

"...oh, just food and some blankets," he heard Cassidy say. She didn't sound rattled in the least. "Figured I might have to camp out in the car for a couple of nights."

"Ouch. I could never hack camping," the man returned. "Try a few miles from the coastline, the hotels are much cheaper there." He grunted faintly, and James felt his muscles tense at the distinct sound of fingers under the door handle.

The cover of the blankets kept most of the light from his eyes, but a little still reached him, turning what had been blackness into a clouded brown. The man must have leaned his weight forward, because the car was jostled on its wheels.

Plastic rustled, and the man was right there, practically on top of him as he rooted through the bags. Each crackle of packaging was as nerve-racking as nails on a chalkboard. Every sound, every motion, threatened discovery- just a moment of suspicion, one hand in the wrong place, and the jig was up.

Don't move, don't move, don't-

The car rocked again, and the trunk door slammed closed.

"Sorry 'bout all that, we gotta check."

"Of course- no problem," Cassidy replied, and James could practically hear her simper.

They moved further away again. More muffled words, briefer now. He caught the end of the reverberations from another door being yanked closed, and they were moving once more.

James breathed. The air was stale with old fabric, and too warm, but it felt wonderful in his lungs without the stress of keeping still constricting the action. Shrugging the blankets off of him, he rolled onto his side to ease the pins and needles that had been collecting in his arm like static.

His relief was all too short-lived, swiftly knocked aside by the thoughts of Jessie and Meowth. He might have accepted that their fate was out of his hands, but that didn't make the situation any less agonising- if anything, it had the opposite effect. To be so helpless to something so potentially awful... It was an unyielding storm of foreboding.

Many of his memories before he'd been knocked out were still foggy, vague, but the details he did recall were not pleasant. There had been so many gunshots, each one of those carrying the power to kill. Though he prayed in favour of any other scenario, he knew in his gut that Jessie and Meowth had been up there.

Blunting the point of those thoughts- even if only a little- was Cassidy's earlier remark. He knew his teammates better than anyone, and she was right: they were survivalists.

What a strange reality, he thought, to be taking solace from Cassidy. She was right behind Jessiebelle on the list of the people he'd least expected such a thing from. He managed to smile a little at that.


Cassidy pulled over about half an hour later, and this time the footsteps that neared him were a welcome sound. He didn't exactly have much leg room.

She popped the trunk a final time, and he winced as he straightened his back; clearly, the cramped positions hadn't been kind to his joints. Then he clambered out, wavering a little as he found his balance.

Night had long fallen, dropping the temperature with it. The sky wasn't totally clear, but the clouds were sparse enough for sprinkles of stars to pierce through. Fresh air filled his throat, beautifully sharp as it pulled in and out of his lungs, a gentle tide.

"Well, we got a little of your team's dumb luck back there," Cassidy deadpanned. "Damn good thing that guy didn't give a shit."

Before he could formulate a response, James realised what the edge to the air was: salt. He turned his head back over his shoulder to have his suspicions confirmed- there was the sea, quiet, still. And between them and the water were the latticed silhouettes of docks, wooden walkways cheek to cheek with the ships that bobbed with the ocean's slow rhythm.

The plastic bags crinkled next to him as Cassidy hauled them out of the trunk. She swung one to him, and he opened his arms just in time to take hold of it as it hit his chest.

"All right, let's go," she told him, and began walking towards the docks. James obliged, jogging a few steps to catch up with her, but stuttered out his perplexity:

"Wait- where are we going?"

"Not entirely sure yet," Cassidy muttered. "One of these ships, I hope." She stopped as they reached a large information board, and studied it up close, straining to make out the words in the dim light from the lone street lamp adorning the shore. For an unpleasant series of moments, she wondered if their luck had run out and none of the vessels were headed the right way, until she caught sight of a ferry's timetable to the far right of the board.

"Okay, good," she breathed, turning to James. "One of the ferries has Johto as one of its drop off points- it's leaving tomorrow morning."

James looked quizically back at her. As far as he was aware, they weren't carrying much in the way of cash, and even if they were, cross-region travel ususally meant scrutiny when it came to identity.

"But... How are we going to get tickets?" he asked. "Or passports?"

Cassidy snorted.

"Oh, come on," she scoffed. "Don't tell me you've never played stowaway before."


It was a good thing, James thought, that Cassidy did most of the work when it came to breaking into the ferry. Right now he wasn't sure he could pick a padlock, let alone bypass an electronic security system.

No one else was on board- or at least, they didn't bump into anyone. The main lights had been shut off for the night, but the glowing exit signs and occasional safety lights saved them from navigating in pure darkness.

Cassidy led the way through the ship's veins, James trailing behind her in a clumsy half-stagger. Movement made both the pain and dizzyness in his head worse, and more than once he had to steady himself against the wall for fear of collapsing.

On the fifth door that Cassidy tried on the lowest floor, she evidently found what she'd been looking for, because James felt her tug on his sleeve.

"In here," she whispered.

Their path was illuminated by a mini flashlight she produced from her pocket. Sturdy wooden crates filled the room in thick stacks, making a sort of maze. James realised that this was probably the cargo hold.

"Won't the staff have to come in here?" he asked, not quite convinced that this was a good hiding place.

"Don't think so," Cassidy replied. "I checked a few of the crates, and it's mostly raw materials, stuff like that. The food's stored across the hall, so hopefully they won't bother us."

'Hopefully' didn't fill him with great confidence, but he decided not to argue with her. He was too tired.

They weaved around the walls of boxes, and eventually settled in a far-off corner. There was good cover, so at least if somebody did come in, they wouldn't see them immediately.

Cassidy sat with her back to the wall as she began pawing through the carrier bags. She made a pile on the floor: granola bars, tins of stew, a packet of cookies and a couple of bottles of water.

"Take your pick."

Hunger hadn't really been on his mind beforehand, but at the idea of food, it kicked in full-force. His body was desperate for energy, a fact made all the more clear by the quivers in his stomach; he ripped open a granola bar with as much speed as his fingers could muster. Cramming half of it into his mouth, he chewed so eagerly that he nearly choked on the first bite. Cassidy made no attempt to hide her disgust.

They ate in silence for a while, not due to a lack of thoughts, but rather an unwillingless to voice them. Finally, it was James who spoke up.

"I... I don't think I actually thanked you for saving me," he said. Cassidy shifted her eyes his way, expression unchanging. "So, um, thank you. I know you didn't have to do that."

She grunted. "Yeah, well, you owe me one."

He licked his lips, trying to discern whether or not she'd take kindly to further conversation. He decided to risk it.

"What do you think will happen to Team Rocket?" he asked. "I mean, now that..."

Cassidy shrugged. "Pff, who knows. Some executive will probably take over in Kanto. I guess there'll be a decrease in manpower though. Not everyone's gonna stay loyal after all this mess." She rolled her shoulders back and flexed her neck. "Plus taking into account everyone that got killed."

James tensed a little at that addition. There it was, the first hint of The Forbidden Subject, and he didn't know what the appropriate reaction was. He kept his eyes fixed on his bottle of water, and said nothing, figuring he'd let her take the lead for the time being.

She too was silent in the minute that followed, and he was starting to think that the discussion had dropped out of existence completely when she swallowed audibly.

"God, it's just so weird thinking that Butch is really dead, you know?" She posed the question so casually that she could have been commenting on a strange turn of weather.

James was utterly unprepared. For her to actually bring it up, and to him of all people, was the kind of thing that only happened in a strange dream. It belonged in fiction, in a hypothetical.

Yet here it was.

He registered that he was very likely the first person she'd spoken about this to. It wasn't like she had a great string of friends at HQ. Just as James had Jessie and Meowth, Cassidy had Butch. Except now she didn't.

James took his time forming the words in his head before he spoke them aloud.

"I'm going to miss him too," he stated softly. "I know that might sound strange, but..."

He wasn't sure how to finish that sentence, so let it trail off.

"Well, I guess in our whole team rivalry thing, you two were the least invested," Cassidy said. She chuckled, and the sound was so out of place that James felt fear knock at his chest. "You know, Butch might officially be the bigger idiot of the two of you for getting himqself iced like that," she mused aloud, the smirk on her lips as unsightly as a gash.

Mercifully, James was saved the duty of formulating a response when she brushed the crumbs off her lap, and hid a muted yawn behind the back of her hand.

"I'm gonna sleep," she said. "If you need to get up for a piss, don't stomp around and wake me up."

She clicked off the flashlight, and just like that, there was nothing.

Positioning himself on his side, James hugged the coat tight around him, trying to absorb every scrap of its warmth. The ship wasn't freezing, but it certainly wasn't warm.

He lay awake for what felt like a very long while. Every now and then, either he or Cassidy would shift and the faint swish of their clothing would break the quiet.

At long last, sleep took its first hold, smudging his thoughts into one another, knitting together the incoherent narrative that so often came as a prelude to dreams. Through it all, there was a noise, a sticcato of voice, and the more he came to focus on it, the more unease it dredged up. The pictures in his head grew distressed, frightening-

James blinked his eyes open, and still the sound was there, only clearer. Judging by the muffled nature of her sobs, Cassidy was trying to suppress them, but her efforts only went so far.

Neither of them would allude to it the next morning.