Last Time On TMOM:
Angry unleashed pokemon, too much punch, running from destiny, bickering and a hidden ancestry.
Quote: "You're Sir Aaron's descendent," Lucario repeated. "His direct descendent."

Chapter Eight: Disappointed

Always said I was a good kid
Always said I had a way with words
Never knew I could be speechless
Don't know how I'll ever break this curse
-Daughter

Past

Curfew had already passed. A pokemon center was closing for the night. It was one of the few along the path to the nearest city, the last for many miles. In the evenings, it tended to fill with trainers eager for a place to sleep—indoors for a change. This evening was no different from the others. Several trainers, mostly young men in this batch, had taken up to play card games in the lobby, whittling away the time until lights out. Nurse Joy had just been lowering the shutter doors when a hand suddenly caught the underside, preventing it from closing.

Joy gave a yelp of surprise, alerting the nearby trainers to the latecomer. A few of the more skittish trainers reached for their pokebelts. But the young man who had just ducked inside didn't have the Rocket look to him. He seemed a trainer of some years, several heads taller than most of the trainers in the center. He was of lean build, had shaggy, unkempt dark hair and was of possible Kanto descent.

Unlike the others who had been eager to throw off their packs as soon as they entered, this man kept all his gear on, instead marching straight over to where everyone had been relaxing, ignoring Joy's indignation. His approach hushed their easy conversations. Unnerving red-tinted eyes sized each up in turn, lingering only for the briefest of moments on a young boy in the corner with a Pikachu perched on his shoulder.

"I need trainers. Brave ones. To help me hunt a pokemon," said the strange man curtly.

The trainers looked at each other uncertainly. Most of them were only just a few years into their journey: beginners and casuals. The stranger's intensity was enough to turn them off.

"What kind of pokemon?" Asked a brunette, tossing down her hand of cards. She looked to be closer in age to the stranger, sixteen or so, which might have given her a bit of her bravery.

The man smiled coldly, probably already anticipating their response.

"Mew."

Those trainers not fresh in their journey were quick to laugh.

"A Mew hunter," laughed the girl , tossing her hair dismissively. "Should have known."

"You won't find any volunteers here, friend," said a stern-looking trainer sitting her opposite. "We're used to your kind of moron. Ain't no one looking for a mew ever found one. You'd be better off looking to pluck some of Ho-oh's ass feathers."

The trainers sitting around him muttered and chuckled in collective agreement.

The stranger took their comments in stride. He didn't even seem troubled by their dismissal. He didn't try to convince them or fight to be taken seriously. The only thing that passed his lips was a small sigh of disappointment. He had gotten his answer and turned to leave.

But he and the other trainers were all surprised when one trainer stood up. That trainer was Ash Ketchum.

Ash ignored the looks. He knew what they were thinking. He wasn't a newbie who didn't know any better, nor was he that impressive looking compared to those around him. But Ash was fourteen, on a dry spell, and eager to prove himself.

He balled his fists and stared the stranger down.

"I'll go," Ash said.

"You?" The stranger smirked, obviously as unimpressed with him as the other trainers had been.

Pikachu grumbled from his perch, drawing the stranger's eyes to him. But unlike the glare the stranger leveled at all the other humans, with Pikachu his eyes were kind. When he caught Pikachu looking back, the stranger winked at him. Pikachu bristled.

"I've competed in many leagues: Kanto, Johto, Hoenn… I even won the Orange Archipelago tournament."

"Not looking for your resumé, kid."

"Well, then what are you looking for?"

The stranger thought for a moment. He lifted his hand over Ash's head as if measuring something there. "Someone a little taller."

Ash slapped the hand away. "Come on!"

"Convince me, then."

Ash frowned and glanced around at all the eyes still on them. It took him a moment, but a counter-argument came to mind at last.

"You don't have a choice," Ash swept his arms out in a gesture to the cowed trainers around him. "I'm the only one willing to go. You want trainers. I'm a trainer. I'm your best bet."

The stranger was silent for a long moment. And for a few long, agonizing seconds, Ash thought he might have not convinced him. The stranger had a killer poker face.

Then, at last, the man shrugged. "What's your name, kid?"

"Ash Ketchum. I'm not a kid," said Ash automatically. "What's yours?"

The stranger's gaze drifted, waffling around the room, not looking at anything in particular. He thumbed his nose absentmindedly before saying, "Red."

Ash didn't have the stranger's poker face. "Red? Your name is Red? ...As in the color?"

"And yours is Ash? As in soot?"

Touché, Ash thought bitterly. But he didn't give Red the satisfaction of an answer.

"Now that that's squared away, Soot," Red said the nickname with a bit of relish, obviously enjoying the look of annoyance on the younger boy's face. "Let's see exactly how good a trainer you are."

"Huh?"

Red flashed his own pokeball Ash's way. "I'm challenging you to a pokemon battle. Think you can take me… Soot?"

Present

It had started raining. A delightfully depressing little drizzle that was just enough to suck the warmth out of the air when walking through Cameron's stone corridors. Ash was starting to regret his change of attire, hugging his bare arms as he stood around impatiently for someone to tell him how to be.

How to be… what exactly? Arms folded tightly to his chest and bouncing up onto his toes and then back down, Ash felt trapped, spiraling in place. He was buzzing with adrenaline and yet… aimless. Ash still didn't know what this new information about his ancestry meant. Was it supposed to mean anything?

Ash stared up at the impressively tall tapestry depicting an expansive family tree spread on the wall in front of him. Each name was stitched neatly with both approximate birth and death dates lined up underneath. The span of long-dead names and ancient dates reminded Ash of the time he tried to help Brock do some family ancestry hunting. They dug through the Pewter City library, scrounging up dusty old newspapers and obituary notices, trying to find some trace of his paternal lineage. But the Pewter City gym leader's family line could only be traced back so far.

Ash supposed that was what happened when you were descended from miners and shoe cobblers. You weren't important enough to remember once you were gone. Not everyone was lucky enough to be descended from royalty, Ash thought bitterly. This family tree with its widespread branches was so intimidating. Intimidating and overwhelming.

Ash rubbed feeling back into his cold arms.

Ash never met his own grandparents. He didn't even know his own father. How could he possibly be expected to accept a whole ancestry when he didn't even know his own immediate relations?

The quiet footsteps coming down the corridor towards him could only be human, so Ash didn't turn. He kept his eyes focused on the blur of names that meant nothing to him. Aileen saddled up alongside, her nose buried in a tome she'd carted out for the two of them to share. And then, heedless to Ash's conflicted mess of an emotional state, Aileen started up as if continuing a conversation they had been having.

"I'd imagine it would have to be Crown Prince Alexander."

Though Ash really wasn't to keen on this line of subject, his curiosity got the better of him. Staring blearily up at the names at the topmost branches, none of which resembled any familiar relations he was aware of, Ash asked, "Who's that?"

"Well umm…" said Aileen suddenly fumbling as she hastily flipped through the pages of her heavy book. "Your ancestor, I suppose. He's the only one whose descendants are unaccounted for. And the only one with a direct line to Sir Aaron's bloodline. He's Sir Aaron's first grandson. Here." Aileen held out the book with two hands, nodding to a small portrait of a man who certainly could have been his relative. Alexander had his mother's chocolate brown hair and the traditional amber eyes. The thin, beardless jawline was much like Ash's own, and they shared the same small nose. Ash frowned down at the portrait.

"What happened to him?"

"He renounced the throne. Passed it off to a younger sibling; many of his family were already vying for the throne at the time. The stories say he wanted to be an adventurer, so despite his parents' wishes, he marched out and cut all ties. We always assumed he died childless, but it's very possible that you could be his descendant, born from a child he conceived while adventuring."

This story went a bit against the grain. A would-be dreamer, abandoning friends and family for a wanderer's life. No… Ash didn't have anything in common with this man at all.

How could history be… what did Gary call it... so ironic? It was a bit on the nose, really.

"So…"

"Soooo?" Aileen clapped the heavy book shut. She was smiling but Ash found it impossible to reciprocate.

"So what? What does it mean? Crown… King- Prince, Ali what's-his-face. If I am related to him… what does it mean?"

"Well… for one, I guess it means you have a claim on the throne."

Ash blanched. Aileen waved his dumbstruck expression away. "Don't worry! It's not a strong one. If your ancestor actually did officially renounce the throne, you'd be completely out of the running. But… the records are a bit unclear. That he left Cameron, that much is clear. But as to whether or not he officially surrendered his claim on the throne to his siblings…" Aileen shrugged. Ash wasn't too pleased with the indifference.

"If he didn't 'officially'... then what?"

"Well then, I guess that makes you the rightful King."

"Oh no. No," Ash sputtered, exing his arms over and over in protest. "No way. No way. No way in hell."

"Well, don't sound so excited."

But she was smiling knowingly. Ash's terror melted into annoyance. "You're messing with me."

Aileen winked. "Just a little."

Before Ash could stomp away from her, Aileen wrapped her arms around him laughing, "Aw come on. You just looked so glum. I couldn't help it."

Her arms were simultaneously wonderful and smothering and Ash both wanted and didn't want them around him. He could feel her chest pressing into his back. She had his arms pinned; preventing him from slipping away from her. She wouldn't let him stay angry. And Ash had a hard time remaining so. Of course, he also had a hard time thinking, being held this way.

"You thought I looked sad," said Ash, somehow muscling through his discomfort. "So you decided to mess with me?"

"Yup." Aileen poked his cheek. "You get so pouty. It's cute." Ash's ears burned red at the word. But he said nothing. And Aileen continued on, heedless of the effect her words had. "Besides, we're family now. Distant family but still family. Cousins mess with each other. I need to make up for lost time."

Cousins. That word sunk like a heavy stone in Ash's gut. This time, Aileen seemed to notice the change on Ash's face. She frowned. That forced Ash to look away.

His cheeks warmed as Aileen took up his hand once again. "Come on." She offered no chance to argue, pulling him along like an uncooperative kite on a string. They ran through the halls, Ash only just able to keep pace with Aileen's longer strides. No longer hindered by the restrictions of a ball gown, the young princess could move quite fast. They darted around corners, bursting through rooms full of still-mingling guests—no one seeming to pay either much mind. Twice, they had to dodge out of the way of an oncoming person, shouting apologies (through laughter in Aileen's case) over their shoulders. Her bubbly laugh was infectious and even Ash found himself smiling, somehow enjoying their brisk jog through the castle.

Eventually, Aileen stopped, causing Ash to unintentionally bump into her from behind. She shushed both his and her own giggles. They were standing in front of giant oak doors that swept all the way to the ceiling. There was a smaller door cut into the large ones, and it was through this door that Aileen beckoned Ash.

It wasn't that long after sundown, but the insides of this room were pitch black. Ash blinked in his sudden blindness, his other senses heightened by the loss of the first. He breathed in a heavy musk of "old"; the kind of smell that clung to things from people long dead and gone. It made his head feel heavy. Aileen's guiding hand was the only reason Ash moved forward. Trusting her where his eyes failed. Perhaps a bit too trusting, as she accidentally ran his shins into a low ottoman.

Aileen procured a light from somewhere, a candlestick and a match. The glow lit up her apologetic smile as Ash rubbed his sore legs. She took the stick to a few more candles about the large room. And it was then, through the pockets of light, that Ash realized where he was. The castle library. The large, towering bookshelves could only indicate as such.

He felt like he was standing in a dimly lit graveyard, wading amongst towering gravestones. The mute stillness was both oddly sad and comforting in equal measure. Not wanting to be left alone, Ash followed Aileen as she walked amongst the shelves of books, a firefly bouncing through the darkness.

Then they came upon what Aileen had evidently brought Ash to see. In the center of the room was a large glass case. And inside, Ash saw a familiar set of items. The ancient staff with its glittering gemstone, just catching the light from Aileen's candle, hung on a metal stand. And below the staff, navy gloves with its own crystal insets: the gloves Ash had worn to the tournament and to the ill-fated ball. Ash sent a questioning look Aileen's way but she only had eyes for the objects sealed beneath the glass.

"Pretty, aren't they? Forbidden, too. Only taken out once a year. Funny how things that you can't touch can make your fingers itch. I want to touch them even more." Aileen turned up two latches simultaneous with a loud click. Then, as if just demonstrating that she could, Aileen slid back the glass panel. She didn't stick her hand inside. Just stared and slid the panel closed again.

"The royal family likes to give tokens to their favorites during the tournament. I… I honestly never much cared. I guess, in a way, I was always jealous. They were all pokemon trainers, like you. Something I was never given a chance to be. Why would I give them a favor? They already had better luck than me," Aileen sighed, her eyes shining oddly in the low light. "I had the gloves. I was using them, studying the effects of the crystal in their center."

Ash's heart skipped a beat. The gloves. His gloves? She had given him stolen gloves? At Ash's horror-struck look, she quickly added. "They aren't even Sir Aaron's. The gloves are replicas. No one ever recovered Aaron's actual gauntlets."

"Why did you take them?"

"Sir Aaron had powers. Or so the legends say. I had a theory… well, it was more of a guess than anything. I thought that maybe he used the crystals to draw on wave somehow. I was… trying to find a way to do the same thing." Her smile was weak. "Many tries. Many failures. Nothing came of it. Well, a few explosions, but nothing fruitful."

Ash didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. Eventually, her eyes returned to his own. "I gave up. So I tossed you a token, the gloves. You won the tournament and then… you made the staff glow."

"You think the gloves did that?"

"No," Aileen shook her head. "I think you did that."

Ash didn't want to have this conversation. He didn't want to be near this case of ancient magical objects. He didn't want to be related to a failed hero. It felt all too big, like a giant marble wedged in his throat that he just couldn't swallow. Why did this sort of thing always happen to him?

"Aileen, I-"

"You and I both know that you summoned Lucario somehow. With wave. It's… It's remarkable," She let out a breathy laugh. Ash didn't want to look at her. Didn't want to hear whatever plea she was going to make. "Lucario could teach you. We could all learn. More about wave. More about the past."

"What are you getting at?" He didn't mean to make his words sound so cold, so sharp. But they were. Aileen flinched.

"I was... hoping you'd help me. Lucario needs to find out what happened to him. And we should figure out what happened to you. If you stayed… just a little while longer, we could get to the bottom of this mys—"

"Once I find Pikachu, I need to leave."

"Ash—"

"Please, Aileen. I need to go home. I don't want any part of this."

The silence hung heavy around them. Ash could feel the sharpness in it. The pain. Ash saw her wishes as childish; wishes of a dreamer, just as foolish as his own had once been. She may have been older, but Ash had seen more. Experienced more. He was none too eager to see how this would turn out. And he was positive that if he was a part of it, it wouldn't end well.

"Alright," Aileen said gently, blowing out her candle. "Let's find Pikachu then."

Past

Red learned a lot about Ash over the next few days, and Ash learned practically nothing about Red in return. That was probably because the silence between them was as hard and icy as the mountain weather. Red waded in the silence, completely unperturbed. Ash couldn't stop his mouth from moving. Maybe it was because his words felt the need to keep up with his chattering teeth, although it was more likely that Ash just didn't like the silence. It made Red seem more imposing and unfriendly than Ash suspected he actually was. Or at least, that's what Ash hoped.

They were making their way slowly through the snow-capped mountain range. By this point in the journey, Ash had exhausted almost all points of conversation. Not that Red really reciprocated much more than a grunt or an "is that so?" He marched on ahead, forcing Ash to make conversations with his back. There were only so many topics you could bounce off a wall. His training, his friends. He didn't really want to talk about his mom and her attempt to end his pokemon journey, but eventually, the threat of more silence brought it up. That's lame, Red had responded. And that was it. The dry desperation for any sort of communication was sliding Ash down a dangerous slope. If this kept up, he might actually start bringing up his secret crushes and Misty. He really didn't want to start blabbing about Misty.

Pikachu was probably regretting his choice to stay out of the warm pokeball but he never complained. And Ash knew better than to try and force him into it. The pokemon kept tight to Ash's shoulder, huddling in the nook of Ash's neck to keep warm. Sometimes, when he was really too cold, Pikachu yanked at Ash's scarf and took some of it for himself. It helped, a little.

The snow was starting to get calf deep. It was a struggle to keep yanking his legs out of the sinking snow again and again. Ash had dressed for the weather the best he could. High socks, thermals, and jeans; his jeans were already soaked through from the knees down. Red was clearly more prepared with both snow and climbing gear neatly packed in his things. Ash had marveled at watching Red procure the appropriate gear when it was needed. The young man had nothing in his pack that wasn't meant for survival. No comic books, no extra snacks, and definitely no extra pairs of underwear.

Red cut the way for them, saying little. And when he was sure Ash wasn't looking, Red would look back at him. He'd watch silently as the boy struggled to keep up the rear. He'd watch the boy's lively and exaggerated motions, how he'd swing his arms too much as he marched. It looked exhausting. And then he'd notice Ash move his hand back, every now and then, to give his pikachu a kind pat.

Although he'd never say it, Red found Ash just as fascinating as Ash found him. He filed away every story, every breathless confession, building up a mental account of the young trainer he currently had as his partner. He was a noisy, reckless mixed-up mess of a trainer: ill-prepared and inexperienced. But Ash was also relentless. Even when faced with terrible odds, he didn't flinch.

There was no way Ash could win against Red's far more talented and experienced team of pokemon. From the very first pokeball, Red had procured a powerful line-up. Pokemon that were not only fully evolved but built, thick with toned muscles. They towered over Ash and his pikachu. But Ash fought anyway. He lost round after round with a grim-faced determination. At the end of the match, Red had downed all 6 of Ash's pokemon. And yet, despite being hopelessly outgunned, Ash had somehow managed to down 3 of Red's.

Red hadn't had a pokemon of his knocked out in years. And certainly not by some nobody trainer on the road to nowhere.

Ash was impulsive, fueled by a seemingly endless fire. He took risks. He was innovative, desperately creative. He used the environment, ordering Pikachu to leap off the pokemon center roof—using gravity for extra hitting power. He used unique hand signals so that Red couldn't hear the move coming. And above it all, the rapport with his pokemon ran deep. When Ash lost, he didn't cry. He only cried over Pikachu, sweeping its small unconscious form into his arms. And even those were small, angry tears that Ash was too proud to wipe away.

Ash had things to prove. And seemingly nothing to lose.

Much to Red's own surprise, Red discovered he was jealous. That and he probably liked the kid, dumb as that was.

The mountain dropped off right past this point. The sudden cliff blended into the endless white of the snow. Red only knew because he had been here before. He held out his arm, blocking Ash from walking off to his death.

"Drop off," said Red simply.

"Oh," Ash frowned. He folded his arms to hide how cold he was. Pretending to be tough, just like a kid. Red could see him trembling. "What now?"

Red didn't answer. He tossed his backpack off and rummaged around again for what he needed. He pulled out a long rope, a web of belts and metal rings, all of which just looked like a complicated mess to Ash. But he got the general idea: Red intended for them to climb down.

"Here." Red tossed a tangled belt Ash's way, a harness for himself. Ash looked down at it helplessly. Red must have taken pity on him, as he didn't leave Ash in uncomfortable silence for long. He abandoned the rope and anchor he was driving into the hard soil and came over to help strap Ash in.

Ash didn't know how Red did it. He wasn't wearing full gloves; the cold should have numbed Red's hands. But instead, he was surprisingly deft at pulling at the straps and belting Ash's legs in. He tugged on the metal hoop (the carabiner, Red called it) making sure everything was appropriately tight. But not too tight. He had to be able to climb, after all.

Ash tried to swallow the nervous butterflies that were swarming in his insides. He had never really been afraid of heights, but he also hadn't ever tried scaling a cliff face before, either. He kept unintentionally flashing worst-case scenarios in his mind. And in his lifetime, unfortunately, there had been many near life-ending events to choose from. He had only almost fallen to his death a few dozen times.

"So Red, ummm… I'm not saying I'm nervous. Cause I'm not. Not nervous," He laughed nervously, chittering like a patrat. It was very unconvincing. Red only rose his eyebrow in response.

"Sure?"

"Yeah… But ummm… Do you think we could… iunno. Talk… so I can… get my mind off… this." Ash pulled on the rope lifeline for emphasis. Red shrugged. He was almost done securing his own harness. Almost ready to launch himself over the edge.

"Go ahead."

"W-well, I thought… you could talk some. I mean, I know nothing about you."

"Hm," Red seemed too preoccupied with his harness to answer. He gave it a tight tug and then finally looked up. "Like what?"

"Uh… well, like… who are your parents?"

"You wouldn't know them."

"No, I mean, like… what do they do? Are they trainers?"

Red's eyes took on a distant look. But to his credit, he answered. "Yes. They were. Yours?"

"Uh no," Ash laughed. "No, my mom probably couldn't battle her way out of a paper bag. She'd worry too much about hurting the other pokemon. She's very… gentle that way. But I mean, you already knew that about my mom. How she doesn't like me pokemon training." Ash wasn't quite ready to switch the focus back on him. This was the most he had gotten out of the older man in hours. "Your parents must be proud of you then? You're a," Ash swallowed. "A very good trainer."

"No," said Red softly. "They don't know about this."

"Oh." This was a turn! "So you ran away? Like me?"

"No. Nothing to run away from. They're dead."

"Oh." Well, so much for that conversation! Ash stared hard at the ground, hating himself. Even Pikachu looked appropriately abashed. They both missed the small smile that stole on Red's lips. Ash let the silence hang for too long. Too long before he realized he should say something. Apologize... anything. He stumbled into it too fast, tripping up on his words as he did.

"I'msorryIdidn'tkno—" Red cut him off.

"I grew up with my grandfather. And when he passed, I was on my own. So… I became a trainer."

Ash swallowed. His throat hurt. "To be like them?"

Red nodded.

Ash noted he didn't look mad. Not mad like Ash would be. He hated people reminding him of bad things, like how he slept in on his first day of training and was given a leftover pokemon. Or how he lost the Indigo League because he didn't train his charizard properly. He'd probably punch the person in the face who brought that up. Unless it was Misty. Misty was there… she was allowed to comment on it. As long as it wasn't often.

No, Red wasn't mad. He looked calm, his face completely smooth like the surface of glassy water. Ash supposed that was the look of someone who didn't let people cast rocks into their lakes. He had sealed them off long ago.

"Like them," Red repeated. "But better."

And that's when he jumped backward off the cliff.

Present

The rain was coming down harder. James could hear it bouncing off the sides of the canvas, running down like tears. The balloon had been all fitted up, inflated, hot and ready to go. They had gathered enough supplies. The sandbags were ready to be thrown from the sides of the basket. But they were down one pokemon: one obnoxious talking cat.

Jessie said she didn't care. She kept threatening to leave him if Meowth didn't show in the next ten minutes. Ten minutes became twenty, and then fifty, and then two hours. Still, she kept pretending. Because she was Jessie. And she didn't want James to see how worried she actually was.

They had already looked through the castle. They blended in with other search parties looking for something called a Lucario. Waving flashlights and mimicking the trainers around them, the Team Rocket members secretly scoured the large gardens and then castle halls for their missing pokemon. They didn't think he'd go far. Surely he'd have stayed near the food for as long as possible. And when the strange pokemon was summoned by Ash, Meowth would have sought his partners out immediately. The fact that he didn't, said either one of two things to James. Either Meowth wasn't aware of what happened in the ballroom and had no idea that he should be looking for his teammates to make their hasty escape, or something had happened to him. And the longer they searched, the more James started to believe it was the latter.

Jessie worried the rim of the basket, cutting her nails into the hard bamboo weave. Her eyes kept scanning the lowly lit courtyard for the pokemon they were slowly starting to suspect was nowhere near.

"Something's happened," James said. Jessie shook her head. "Come on, Jessie. You know something's happened. Meowth would be here otherwise."

"Five more minutes. Then we are definitely leaving."

Her knuckles were turning white from holding the basket's rim too tightly. James wanted to grab up her hand, cradle it and gently soothe the worry out of it. But Jessie wouldn't like that. So instead he just stared as the raindrops dotted her skin.

"Maybe," James began gently. "Maybe we can search better from above."

He thought she'd protest. Perhaps she even meant to. But instead, she bit at her lips and nodded. They didn't want to leave Meowth. He was more than just a pokemon to them. He was their partner. Their friend. But the weather was getting worse—if they stayed any longer, they'd be grounded. Trapped with whatever was coming after the Chosen One this time.

James slowly unbound one sandbag while Jessie anxiously undid the other. With a nod shared between them, they tossed them overboard. The balloon lifted, still bound by a single tether. James was just about to cut themselves free when he spotted something. A white face peering out at them from one of the stained glass windows. James hesitated.

And that's when the shouting came.

The face disappeared from the window. And it suddenly became all too apparent who the face belonged to. Ash tore into the courtyard, waving his arms and shouting at them. None of it sounded too friendly. But they were already several feet up and his voice couldn't carry in the wind.

There was a girl behind him. James didn't recognize her, but she was undoubtedly another stranger that Ash had randomly befriended. He seemed to pick up new friends like a growlithe would fleas. She wasn't shouting. But that was okay, as Ash was clearly shouting more than enough for the two of them.

"What? What are you saying?" James shouted back.

Jessie grabbed James' shoulder. "Just ignore him," she snapped. "We're leaving."

"We're leaving, Ash!"

James couldn't hear Ash's reply. But he could clearly read Ash's response on his lips. Oh no, you're not. Ash had ripped a pokeball off his belt.

"Shit."

"What is it?"

"I think Ash is going to attack us."

"What? What did we do?!"Jessie rushed to the side of the basket that James was currently looking over. She threw out her arms as if to shoo Ash away somehow. "God dammit, Twerp! Leave us alone!"

James caught words like "thieves" and "Pikachu" on the boy's lips. Suddenly, James noticed that Ash didn't have the familiar yellow rat on his shoulder. And he was grabbing a pokeball instead of ordering a thunderbolt down from the sky.

"He thinks we stole Pikachu!"

"He thinks WHAT?"

There was a sudden crack as lightning forked through the air behind them. Jessie shrieked and dove into James' back, hiding her face. It was too close. They could still feel the buzz in the air. A second roar proceeded the first. But this one was clearly not nature made.

The rain was coming down as thick as a curtain. And from the fog of rain emerged a pair of enormous and strong beating wings, pumping through the sluggish air with enough effort to toss raindrops back their way. James lurched away from that side of the basket. A tail had swung up, its torch-like glow briefly outlining the face of the dragon currently heading their way. Blood pounding in his ears and acting purely on instinct alone, James grabbed Jessie about the middle and pulled her down to the bottom of the basket.

There was a sudden rush of heat overhead. James squeezed his eyes shut and held on tighter as Jessie screamed. Another crack. Another roar. Another explosion that threw them violently downwards. And for the second time in days, James felt like the bottom of his stomach had dropped out. They fell in a sickening spiraling tumble, crashing back down into the courtyard.

They hadn't fallen far, thankfully. The explosion was the most damaging, singeing the hairs on the backs of his hands and arms. They were bruised and battered, but not dead. That was important, neither one of them were dead. Jessie, of course, was pissed.

She kicked herself free from the tangle of James' arms and the crumpled mess of the basket. She didn't even pay attention to the heavy rain that was flattening her usually immaculate red hair. Sputtering with fury, she had Ash by the shoulders before James could stop her.

"Why the fuck did you do that! Asshole! You could have killed us!"

Ash pried himself free from Jessie's grip, mirroring her fury. "Give me back my pikachu!"

"We didn't take your damn pikachu!"

"Yes, you did!" The girl was there, pulling at Ash's arm, trying to rein him in. He was ignoring her. "I know you did! You always do!"

They had gathered a sizeable crowd. Anyone who had been nearby had run to the sound of the explosion. They were all standing, waiting to be useful and blocking the exits. James found their suspicious eyes unnerving. It was his turn to try to pull Jessie away. She shook him off like a wet rag.

"We didn't this time, dumbass! We promised we wouldn't! Just like you promised not to try and fucking murder us with your big murder dragon!"

Ash flinched. "I didn't promise anything."

"Clearly! James here," Jessie jutted her chin in her partner's direction. "Was too stupid to see how bad your terms were. He doesn't like confrontations."

James paled. He really didn't like the way this conversation was going. "Jessie, I think—"

"Well, I do," She spat, still way too far up in Ash's personal space. "And god dammit, Twerp, you have been nothing but a pain in the ass this whole time! Ordering us around! We aren't your friends, okay? We don't take orders from the likes of you!"

"Ash… what is all this about?" said the girl at Ash's shoulder. In the low light, James finally recognized her. She wasn't wearing the fancy dress or jewelry anymore. And her hair was a different color, but there was no mistaking one of the head honchos of Cameron castle. It seemed Jessie had recognized her too.

"You the princess?"

Ash protectively stepped in front of Aileen. A loud, ominous thud behind them informed them all that Charizard had also landed, taking up a defensive position in the rear. They were now officially flanked. James was liking this less and less by the minute.

"Jessie, don't—" he warned.

"Ash, please. What's going on?"

"They're Team Rocket," said Ash at last, not without certain venom. "Pokemon thieves. They follow me around, constantly. Trying to steal my pikachu. They've been trying for years."

"B-but… I thought they were your friends?"

Jessie laughed at that. Her laugh was high and loud and it hurt James' ears. That's how he knew it wasn't her real laugh. It was the one she belted out when things were starting to hurt, and she was trying to make it stop.

"We're his worst enemies."

Well, worst enemies is kind of a stretch, James thought. But he didn't want to be having this conversation. Not any of it. They were surrounded by unfriendly eyes and Jessie was doing nothing in their favor.

"I don't understand. Did you steal his Pikachu?" There was some authority returning to the girl's voice. That was worrying. James was starting to look around for some sort of exit strategy. Something… anything!

"I told you we didn't."

"They're lying!"

"Why would we be lying!? Have we ever lied to you?"

"Plenty of times!"

"Not when winning! When we have Pikachu, it's gloating time. Not deception time! Come on, Twerp. It's been years. You'd think you pick up on the patterns already!"

"Shut up! I know you took him!"

"We didn't!"

"Ash, I swear we really didn't."

There were tears in his eyes, mingling in with the rain drops. He was trying hard to fight them back but not succeeding. But the girl, the princess, Aileen was looking pensive, a dangerous expression. Her lips were pursed and her eyes lowered. When she finally spoke, she whispered words that snuffed out all of Ash's anger. And replaced it with horror.

"Ash. Why did you defend them?"

Ash couldn't look at her. He simply couldn't. So Aileen continued, "Why did you allow pokemon thieves into Cameron castle?"

Jessie's hand shot up. James tried, once again, to pull her away. And, once again, he failed.

"I can answer that," said Jessie smuggly.

"Jessie, no—"

"He didn't want us to blab about his dark and dirty secret."

Ash whipped his head back up. His face as white as a sheet and fists trembling in tight angry balls. He couldn't speak. His lips had been wired shut with fear.

"What secret?"

Ash looked like he was going to be sick.

"He's not a pokemon trainer. His license was suspended weeks ago."

A collective gasp rang out. Or maybe that was just James. He felt like the air had just been let out of the room. Ash swayed on the spot, not able to look anyone in the eye. Aileen didn't even have to ask if it was true. The look on his face spoke volumes.

Only Jessie still remained composed. She wiped the wet hair from her eyes and smiled, "Who's the liar now, Ash?"

Past

Red was an expert at climbing. Ash, not so much. Pikachu's nails were digging into Ash's shoulder as he held on for dear life. Ash wasn't so much climbing as he was controlling his fall. His arms were already hurting from clinging so tightly to the rope currently holding him up. Ash didn't know how Red could do it. He was so relaxed, swinging on the ropes as if all that waited below him was a soft grassy knoll. Not the icy plunge that was actually there.

Ash watched in wonder as Red effortlessly swung himself into a small opening hidden neatly on the sheer cliff face. It was barely enough for Red to land in. He popped inside just as easily as someone catching a grape in their mouth. Ash didn't think he could manage it quite so neatly. He scrambled his way over, pushing off the wall to lower himself and then struggling to pull himself back up when he inevitably dropped too far.

Red coached him through it. He was patient and once Ash was close enough, he helped pull the younger boy in. Pikachu gratefully collapsed at the cave entrance, so happy to have ground underfoot again. Red didn't give Ash the chance to do the same. As soon as he had unbuckled him from the rope, Red was pulling him along.

"Hurry," Red said. There was an eager shine in his eyes. Ash barely had time to shake on his flashlight as he stumbled into pace behind the older trainer. There wasn't anything to see yet. It looked no different than any other cave Ash had been in. It was warmer though. The further in they walked, the more uncomfortable his many layers were starting to make Ash feel. He unzipped his jacket and was starting to contemplate peeling off a sweater or two before the cavern tunnel emptied out ahead.

Red had stopped walking. He was looking ahead and somehow, Ash could tell, he was holding his breath.

Ash didn't know what to expect. A nest? An ancient shrine? Maybe a brilliantly psychic habitat that shimmered like a mirage before human eyes? It was in those few breathless moments that Ash realized he knew very little about Mews. He had been counting on Red's expertise to guide them.

At long last, Red stepped aside and Ash was able to stumble into the room himself. And Ash realized that room was actually the appropriate name for it. The area had been carved out to emulate a more man-made like structure. And on the walls were enormous paintings in colors that caught and shone in the low glow of the flashlight. They looked ancient and nonsensical, stretched out impressively against the hard smooth stone. Humans with overly large heads and flailing arms. Pokemon far more fierce than their real life counterparts. Or perhaps pokemon were just more fierce in ancient times. Ash wasn't sure. He wasn't that old.

But, as Ash moved the flashlight from picture to picture, he saw no sign of Mew. It wasn't until his light fell upon the last painting. Mew hung overhead, ominous in the low shadows, drawn forward by the light emanating from several different pokemon. A few Ash didn't recognize. One, he did. A venusaur. The giant, fully-bloomed flower on its back was hard to miss.

"Is this… some sort of… temple? For Mew?"

Red shook his head. "No. This," He swept his arms around him. "This tells us how to summon one."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Pikachu said. Neither trainer understood him. And things might have turned out differently if they had.

To Be Continued…
Please Read and Review!

This chapter strayed quite a bit from the original material. I hope you all enjoyed it regardless. I apologize for taking so long!

As always, special thanks to my beta-reader, HarunaRei, without whom, these chapters would take a lot longer getting to you!

Thanks to those of you who reviewed last chapter. All five of you, which is actually more than I thought it was! Thank you Lil'Dark, AshKetchumForever, YumeTakato, Shaveza, and Ayfara. I know I always take so long with these chapters. I really appreciate you guys waiting for me.

Next chapter, Ash deals with the fallout from his actions. Expect the next update this Christmas and New Year! Stay tuned!