Edited 2019-01-02

Locked Away, Chapter 3

After Misty "called" for the neglectful nurse, the doctors swarmed in shortly after. A near full panic breached the hospital staff that evening.

Misty, who was backed up into the corner of the room, had an older, gentler nurse's approach her, and kindly asked her to leave. She was shell shocked, and horribly confused. Maybe a little bit terrified at the same time. Ash, while awake, looked sicker now than he did sleeping. With so many doctors poking at him and shifting his bed; she wasn't entirely convinced that he wasn't a zombie. Misty was about to be escorted out of the room by said gentle nurse when Ash spoke again. His voice sounded quiet and dangerously scratchy from years of unused vocal cords.

"She stays." Ash groaned, talking created a mass amount of pain; his heart rate spiked again. A nurse ran in with some items from a cart, holding a portable oxygen tank while another doctor used a flashlight over Ash's eyes several times.

"We need to get him into ICU right away." The doctor croaked, ignoring Ash while addressing his staff. He then rattled off a few more instructions, about medicine, oxygen levels while a nurse shoved a needle into Ash's left forearm. Blood surfaced, and Misty shivered at the sight. Having been called away, the gentle nurse returned to help her coworker, thus leaving Misty standing between a rock and a hard place. Should she leave? The doctors said leave, but as quickly as they asked, they seemed to forget her exsistance as their primary focus turned back to Ash.

The hospital staff loaded Ash's bed, kicked off the breaks, and started him towards the exit, blazing right past Misty. Ash shook his head as they moved him-disgruntled and confused-passing in and out of consciousness. Unlike the doctors who were all work, Misty could see the complete terror pouring out of his eyes. Ash didn't have a clue where he was, but somehow, he recognized who she was. She could tell that he didn't like that he was being moved, from where ever he was, and even tried to sit up; but was knocked back from his own weak and ill body, causing vibrations as the doctors rushed him into the elevator.

Misty stood in the hallway like a deer in headlights as he was wheeled away. She could only watch, unable to speak until that look of panic on his face turned to one of fear and betrayal. Once he was loaded into the elevator; Misty finally had the nerve to speak again.

"I'll still be here when you get back!" She screamed, cupping her hands in front of her mouth so her voice would carry. Once the elevator doors had closed, she placed her hand over her mouth, thinking there was nothing else that she could do.

Hearing her call after him, even though he was confused, was oddly comforting. The last thing he remembered was collapsing in the middle of the street of that unknown town, but even that seemed so hazy. Misty looked so different. His body ached. The lights above him in the elevator hurt his eyes. His thoughts couldn't untangle and he tried to touch his aching head, but found that he could not lift his own arm. How long had he been out? Where did Serena go? Did they think he was going to die?

Because he sure has hell felt like it. He felt like he had been asleep for years; but that couldn't have been right. Only yesterday he won another badge. He was about to go to the Kalos league championships. He raised his hand as if to impose a question, but the doctors had strapped his hand down after the last attempt. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure he had the strength to lift it, regardless.

"You need to rest and take it easy." The same older nurse that had told Misty to leave the room lumbered over his face, speaking quickly. Too quickly, Ash barely understood anything they were saying. In fact.. everything seemed kind of...blurry.

"Shit, he's coding, get a-" And like that, he was out like a light.

XOX

Morning arrived much faster than it had the last time. He didn't feel like he was in an endless, dark void. No, morning came like it had every day for the last ten years of his life.

Brown eyes cracked open at the first light of dawn to the sound of beeping to the left of him and the distant hum of an oxygen tank. When he tried to move, he felt restraints on his wrists, but even those were too heavy for him to lift right now. His bones felt to heavy to lift. Half-baked, possibly drugged out of his mind, he finally forced his eyes open just enough to get a decent view of his surroundings. A clean, white room with blue curtains stared back at him. He inhaled sharply, and then exhaled again, testing the strength of his lungs. At least his body felt better today than it had yesterday. Still, he felt so...tired.

He turned his head very slowly to the door which was located to the left of his bed, and then to the heart monitor and then the IV, which was pumping some type of brownish-gold liquid, beside an oxygen tank. Scrunching his face, he could finally feel the hoses that had been pressed into his nose; and they suddenly itched like crazy. Wiggling his face to distort the feeling, his eyes closed heavily, like they wouldn't open again, and then slowly he peeled them awake.

Time seemed to jump.

For a moment, Ash thought to call out, but a flicker of red hair outside his door kept his words tucked under his tongue. There she was again, a weird Misty that looked like Misty...but wasn't Misty? He made a face while she came into perfect view as she talked with the nurse that Ash vaguely remembered from yesterday. Misty was still wearing yesterday's outfit, her hair was messier, curly where it shouldn't have been and black rings decorated the bottoms of her eyes. She probably hadn't slept. That was typical Misty. Ash thought that she looked older, much older, but why? He inhaled, and as if thinking about her made her ears burn, she looked over at him, and then nearly jumped out of her skin while she started to push the nurse into Ash's room. Once the nurse realized where she was being pushed to, she, too, hustled in her step.

"Ms. Waterflower, please wait outside." The nurse said while taking a step into the room and cracking the door shut. The nurse came around to the left side of Ash's bed, where he stared at her with weak, questioning eyes. It was funny, hearing Misty called by her last name. He would have laughed, if he had the energy to do so.

"What's going on...?" he asked finally, feeling a bit foggy.

They must have been pumping him full of drugs because his mind moved in slow motion. It would take weeks to get those drugs fully out of his system, he thought inwardly. The nurse didn't reply, instead an oddly familiar tap outside of his room forced his eyes to shift back over to the cracked door, where he could see a beady sea-green eye peaking in. For the first time since this craziness started, he cracked a soft smile at Misty's absurd antics.

His smile almost made her heart do a flip, she shrunk away from the door the moment their eyes made contact, and pulled out her phone while stepping further down the hallway.

Buried in the depths of her phone was a single name that she had never called: "Delia Ketchum". Misty licked her lips hesitantly, having not gone to her hotel that night, she ended up sleeping in the hospital waiting room. Her lips were dry and tasted like bad coffee. She tapped her finger on Delia's name, and then tapped the edges of her phone, trying to decide if she should call or not.

The hospital already tried Delia's home number several times since the boy miraculously woke up, but could not reach the woman. With doctors screaming it was a miracle, and his recovery speed unprecedented in the field of science, the news media was already flooding the hospital trying to get a word with the doctors who had only two days ago removed Ash from life support. It was raving news, streaming on the television behind her in the waiting area. Luckily, the news reporters weren't allowed in the ICU, so Misty was left alone-not that they would bother her anyways—and Ash was left undisturbed.

Though, it was not likely Ash Ketchum's story would go region wide for sometime, she hoped that was the only reason Delia wasn't picking up her phone. She didn't know yet. Still, Misty thought that it wouldn't hurt to try, so she clicked the call button. After a few minutes, she was met with the same dial tone that the hospital got when they tried to call. Frustrated, Misty pinched the bridge of her nose; unable to understand how the hospital allowed this woman to pull the plug on someone without updating their contact information!

Grimacing, she pulled the phone away from her face, and clicked the end call button. Stepping back in line of Ash's room while crossing her arms. She peered in once more to see that he was looking at the nurse attempting to take a blood sample and rambling on about something. He clearly didn't like needles, his face was scrunched up in discomfort as he looked towards the window. If only he knew just how many needles he had over the last ten years, he might not look so terrified.

Misty turned away once again, placing her hands on her hips and her phone back into her pocket. She leaned up against the door frame outside of his room, hands in her pockets, waiting patiently for the nurse to finish her routine. When the nurse finally did step out, she did so shaking her head. The action caught Misty's attention and she reared her head at the nurse, who looked gravely concerned.

"What's wrong?" Misty asked, voice full of worry. The nurse inhaled and then offered her a sweet smile as she guided the young woman down the hall a ways.

"Ms. Waterflower," The way that the nurse addressed her so professionally made Misty almost feel like an adult. She cracked the faintest of smiles as the nurse continued. "We've never seen such a quick recovery... he's already talking..." she stammered, but shook her head, regaining her thoughts.

"If you choose to visit with him... please, do not mention his current situation. He does not seem to be aware of his predicament, and I would like to consult a psychiatric doctor to have him assessed before the news is broken to him; these kind of things take a lot of time to heal. Do you understand?" The nurse spoke gently, in a manner that calmed Misty's frantic heart as she laid a wrinkled hand against Misty's shoulder and smiled. Misty nodded and offered a slight smile in return; she wasn't dumb enough to go against professional advice, and the sweet nurse didn't appear malicious.

Misty nodded, "I'll watch what I say." Misty assured her before the nurse smiled and went on her way with Ash's chart. Most likely on her way to speak with said doctor. Misty inhaled as she turned, heart racing, and pushed Ash's door open.

He didn't notice her at first, the tap of her heels having become simply back ground noise as his droopy eyelids found their solace in the light beaming in behind the blue curtains. Even in his drug induced state, his eyes were full of life and brightness; he blinked once, and then a look of frustration crossed over his face. She watched his fingers wiggle in their restraints, and then she exhaled, putting two and two together. With haste, she slid her purse onto the ground beside Ash's bed. He jumped in response as she trot across the room and then ripped the blue curtains open with one swift, refreshing act.

When the light poured into the dreary room, he exhaled happily. The warm sun against his skin was almost a foreign feeling that brought a tingly feeling to his arms. While he thought it was early morning, Misty knew that the sun was already setting again. Ash had slept over twenty-four hours, with a few awake moments he didn't seem to remember. Her task complete, she turned at him and slipped into the blue chair to the right side of his bed and wiggled her phone between her hands nervously. Ash could only smile at her as an uncomfortable silence settled soon after.

He wouldn't speak first, he had no idea where to start with his mind as scattered as it was, and so she pursed her lips and blinked her long lashes at him.

"How are you feeling?" She murmured.

"Honestly?" Ash tried to chuckle and shifted slightly beneath his covers. His voice was barely there when he motioned to his arms which had regained some of their color over night, and didn't appear as transparent. She snapped her eyes back to his, having caught herself staring, only to see that his eyes had closed again, and slowly re-opened. Probably a side effect of having been comatose for so long.

"Yeah, honestly." Misty nodded, assuring him.

Surprisingly, his answer came quickly; "Muggy. Sore. A little uncomfortable," he shifted, and Misty could only assume he was referencing the catheter and had to stifle her own laugh. Ash continued. "...Confused. Super tired...and did I mention sore?" He ended by looking at her intently, catching the color in his face again for the first time. She cracked a smile.

"That sounds about right." She offered with a flinch as she crossed one knee over the other.

Her callous answer raised his eyebrows. "Why so short? ...you're usually such a chatterbox." He asked skeptically, craning his neck a little to look out the window. His hair fell behind him in that moment, and she finally realized how long it had grown as a blush fell over her cheeks.

She covered her face, humiliated. How in the world did he remember how often she would ramble, rant and carry on when she came to visit? What if he remembered all the weird stuff that she would bring up? No, it must have been some subconscious memory. She grimaced and knit her eyebrows, returning her attention to him yet unsure of how to reply. Catching her discomfort, he watched as she swiped her bangs loose, letting them fall into her face like she did when they were kids.

...were still kids. He wasn't sure. "You changed your hair. It looks nice." He finally managed pointing very gently with his finger.

"I change my hair a lot." Misty flushed, surprised that he remembered what she looked like. Was it possible that the last thing he remembered was her slapping him, and then stealing her bike? Boy, that would be a great memory to have on repeat for ten years.

He grinned, or at least tried to. "You actually look like a girl."

Misty almost shot to her feet, ready to yell "a lot changes in ten years!" but had to refrain from doing so. Teetering on the end of her seat, she twisted the hem of her white blouse into her fingers.

"That tends to happen since I am a girl." she managed. Change the subject she warned herself, "So, do you remember anything?"

He seemed stunned by the question and blinked at her a few times. Maybe it was too much of a personal question? Misty wasn't sure. Perhaps she shouldn't have even asked but as she watched his eyes roam around the room in a fog, she gulped. What if he didn't remember anything at all? What if he was simply in a dark void for years?

Ash couldn't think right away what happened, his memory was fuzzy at best, but he was sure it was because of the medication they had pumping into his veins. However, he did know a very prominent feature was missing from his room; and he inhaled sharply. So much so that his skin-tight chest seemed to raise nearly two inches.

"Where's Pikachu?" He questioned rather than answering her, leaving Misty to scowl. While his eyes skimmed around the room, to the window, the small bathroom and all of the moving tables she wondered if pikachu was the last thing he remembered? She guessed that would make sense, since he was trying to save said pokemon from a flock of spearow during the accident.

"Your mom has him." She shifted awkwardly. That was a normal, decent answer, right?

Ash grunt in response, as if only now catching on that something was off about the entire situation. Clearly disgruntled and upset that pikachu was gone, he looked around the room once more for some kind of time, or date, but when nothing came up, he stared back at his one life line: Misty. She stared back with those deep, sea-green eyes. If his mom took pikachu, Ash must have been out for weeks. Then again, why would Misty be here, and not his mother? It simply didn't make sense. Then, panic flooded his system; hopefully he hadn't missed the championships!

"What about Clemont? And Serena? Or Bonnie? Did I miss the championships? How long was I out?" His sudden overload of questions as he blinked nervously made Misty suck in her lips. She gnawed on the bottom one, and Ash didn't miss that look in her eyes.

"...who?" She muttered softly, looking painfully at him.

His brain didn't seem to catch on right away, disorder sprayed with anger fueled his next comment; "You know, the group of people I traveled with in Kalos. You know them."

She shifted in her chair. This must have been what the nurse warned her about. She raised her eyebrows and tried to keep a calm, thoughtful expression, but Ash no longer seemed to care.

"Kalos...?" her voice, barely over a whisper caused him to wince; her words physically hurt him. As an after thought, Misty shook her head, and as a mother would a child, placed her hand over his, attempting to sooth his anger. He didn't like that though. In fact, it made him angry. He shook his head. If he had more strength, he would have ripped his hand away from hers in a fit. Her obscure answers were driving him crazy. Instead of answering him with an answer, she answered him with more questions! She wasn't acting like Misty!

"Cut the crap, Misty. Stop dodging my questions! What's going on?" He said quickly, catching Misty off guard. While his words started out powerful, they quickly dwindled into a toxic, worrisome confusion as he gazed down at his lap and arms. He wasn't stupid, he could clearly see that something was all wrong. At his outburst, she sat back and released his hand from hers. She wanted to spare a glance at the door and look for a doctor, feeling a bit nervous because of his anger; but instead, she steadied her breath. Maybe trying to talk with him was a bad idea after all; but she was here, and right now that was all he had. Clearing her throat she regained her composure.

"Maybe it's because I want to hear about you. Tell me what you've been up to." Misty tried.

At that comment, Ash's eyes lit up like a fire cracker, and at least for a brief moment, he forgot about the oddity of his situation. Or perhaps, it was the drugs and occasional conscious slips that allowed him to so easily forgive her for her evasiveness. He started to ramble, albeit slowly and painfully, about his adventures. Occasionally he made references to other 'leagues', regions, pokemon, people he wouldn't/shouldn't know that were obscure and abnormal. Misty had to bite down hard on her inner cheek to avoid being mortified, reminding herself that this boy had been in a coma for ten years. There was bound to be a screw loose somewhere.

Ash had created a whole new world in his dreams while he was sleeping, but the more he talked, the more it became a world that Misty wished she could have been apart of. Where the good guys always won, and bad people lost, were dealt with, or goof balls. No one ever died, people were always happy, and solutions were always found. Slowly, as he talked about the pokemon he should have known nothing about, Misty's face turned from terror into happiness, watching the light in his eyes while he spoke. At first she was ecstatic, that he was able to recall so many events, even if they weren't real. Then, happiness drifted, and worry took its place. If he thought all of these events were real, and he most definitely did; what was going to happen when they told him the truth?

As nearly an hour ticked by, she was laughing when she was supposed to; but she didn't make any comments. She didn't want to influence the idea that these dreams were real, because they weren't, but she didn't want to damn them, either. He spent ten years in his own mind—what else could he have done other than create an intricate, detailed world? Even if it was a bit terrifying, she was sure it helped just to talk; he didn't even seem to mind that she had no impute.

A knock came from the door, jarring their attention to the same old nurse from before; the one with the sweet disposition and laugh lines.

"I'm sorry to cut your visit short, but I need to set up some appointments with Mr. Ketchum, run a few tests, and get a few signatures." she said in a sullen tone as she eyed Misty who was collecting her purse from the floor beside Ash's bed.

"But first, could I talk with you for a moment in the hallway, Ms. Waterflower?" she squeaked softly, catching both Ash and Misty's attention. The later of which pursed her lips and shrugged her agreement as she tossed a quick goodbye to Ash, and followed the nurse into the hallway.

"Please, call me Misty. You'll make me feel like my mother otherwise." Misty muttered as she cracked the door to Ash's room, leaving the beaming boy staring after her. When Misty finally turned to look at the nurse, the look of intense worry, mixed with frustration caught her attention. Misty could reflect that composure.

"We can't seem to get a hold of any family members, and his emergency contact is, well, deceased." Misty cocked her jaw at the nurses words, knowing where this was going as the nurse continued. "The clerk at the front counter said that you were the one who brought him in ten years ago, is this correct?"

Misty nodded.

"Well, this might be improper to ask," She shuffled some papers before presenting Misty with some of Ash's results; which made no sense to the gym leader. "I know you're a very busy woman...but would it be possible for you to stand in as a contact, at least until we can get a hold of his mother?"

Ah, there's the request Misty thought bitterly as the nurse referenced to some important vitals on Ash's chart with her pen, and then flipped the page to which Misty shook her head slightly. Misty wasn't sure what to say, so she looked at the nurse, whose sweet smile was hard to turn down.

"His blood work, as well as the scans we took last night show rapid improvement in three of his major cognitive processes; he's able to speak, and comprehend at a much faster rate than other," she lowered her voice, "coma patients."

"Why does that matter?" Misty asked quietly pressing her hand against the form that had been handed to her. She glanced it over, and then shifted the notebook back into the nurses old arms. She tucked it close to her chest and looked at Misty with pleading eyes.

"Ms. Waterflower... Misty, please." the nurse begged urgently. "The transition for someone in his situation can be devastating as is, to recover as quickly as he is can be twice as frightening. Usually a patient will take months to regain their ability to talk—but as you can tell, he seems to have no problem. Normally, we would have months to search for the relatives...but at this rate...he's already a candidate for physical therapy, and the psychologist suggests that having someone familiar around to smooth things over would be beneficial, and you seem to be..." close to him. Misty finished in her own thoughts with a loud sigh.

Misty raised her hand to silence the nurse, having heard enough. She clicked her heel against the white tile while licking her lips, unable to believe the situation she was just put in. She looked up at the nurse, then back at the floor as she turned away to walk back to Ash's room and peek in at him. In his bed, he was using his fingers to tug gently on his bound wrists, and seemed to be humming something to himself; patiently waiting for the nurse's return. Misty kicked the wall beside his door, startling him, but not before she could walk back to the nurse and take the clipboard out of her hands. Had it been anyone else, any other person sitting in that room, Misty would have laughed. But damn her and her motherly instincts: what if no one else ever showed up? What if he was alone in the world? She wouldn't be able to sleep if she just left that up to fate, and so she clicked the pen and sighed.

"Alright, I'll do it." Misty grumbled, signing her name at the bottom of one of the forms before she could change her mind. Had any other nurse in this hospital asked her, she would have probably walked away. The nurse smiled gratefully at the red head, who tried to appear nonchalant as the nurse verified Misty's information, which she could recite without thought.

Essentially, Misty was asked to sign a release form beneath Ash's paper work. It was the hospital's way to ensure that Ash could not be bullied into situations in the absence of his parents, but still needed care that he couldn't wait on. As well as allowing for Misty to be called in case of an accident. Since Ash was a minor before he woke up; until he was given proper psychiatric assessment, he was to be treated as such; which meant that he needed family, or someone he trusted, to witness all signatures that he was otherwise approached to make. To make him more comfortable, not that Misty had any control over what he could or could not do. It was perfectly legal since she was the first person on Ash's file at the hospital. Nevertheless, it wasn't very common because usually relatives came rushing back at the news of family waking up.

Somehow, that sweet lady, Delia, that Misty met so many years ago, neglected to do so.

"You have no idea how much you just helped speed up the process." The nurse reassured Misty, pressing a soft hand onto her broad shoulder. Misty waved her off.

"Yeah, yeah. Go get started. I need to call my sisters and let them know how much of a saint I am." Misty muttered sarcastically, sounding a bit peeved as she walked the hallway, alas, that was probably the lack of proper sleep over the last twenty-four hours.

Little did they know, that their entire conversation wasn't far enough away from Ash. He heard bits and pieces, and was trying to fit the pieces together in his mind; which seemed difficult considering the fog that haunted him.

Speed up what process? He thought inwardly, but was not able to think critically because the nurse walked in with a beaming smile.

"Alright, Mr. Ketchum, are you ready to get into the details of physical therapy?" She asked, sounding overly chipper. Ash had to force himself to smile. Did he need physical therapy? Wiggling his fingers, he mentally thought: Yes.

As the nurse fumbled through the appropriate information, flipping through papers at a speed which Ash couldn't keep up with, Misty slipped quietly back into the room behind the nurse. She approached the foot of his bed with a rather frustrated look. Her posture screamed that she was angry, and Ash leered back at the paperwork to avoid her gaze. Not that she was looking at him. While the nurse spoke about therapy, she mentioned a psychologist that Ash needed to sign for; though he didn't understand why he needed that, either, the nurse said it was simply part of the recovery process.

"Are you right handed or left?" the nurse asked, pulling Ash from his stupor.

"Uh, right." he muttered as the nurse reached over and unlatched his arm. She sat upright quickly, and fished a pen out of her pocket. Slipping said pen into Ash's fingers, which took an excruciating amount of effort to grasp, she placed the sheet next to him.

Mustering all the strength he could manage, he pressed the ball-point pen against the edge of the paper with a great deal of effort, and managed to sign his name not once, but twice! His arm felt like it had weights tied to it, and he was a little embarrassed by his horrible chicken-scratch writing at the bottom of the page. He tried not to let on how he felt, but he was overly aware at how much larger his body was. How frail his body was. He could even touch the railing of the bed when he managed to wiggle his toe. He was taller, his voice was deeper—as scratchy as ever, but not how he remembered it. Nothing was how he remembered it.

"Now are you okay with Misty here, witnessing as a family member for the time being?" The nurse asked sweetly, forcing a small redness to Ash's face that went mostly unnoticed due to his gray features.

"...uh, sure...I guess." He muttered awkwardly. The nurse flipped to the same release form that Misty had signed previously, which only made Ash feel more illiterate when he scribbled his name above her elegant signature. Strange, he remembered Misty having a rough and gawky signature.

The nurse snatched the pen from his fingers, and then gently bound his hand again, much to his dislike. She smiled down at him.

"Now just wait here, and a doctor will visit shortly, alright?" She said sweetly, sparing a short glance to Misty whose expression had not lifted from the stipulated frustration that was there. He wasn't sure what to say to ease her troubled mind. While he wasn't all together, and he didn't have all the facts—he was absolutely sure that he had been asleep for awhile. Even though he saw the dates on the papers, he couldn't remember the last time he looked at the date, so he had no idea if it was accurate or not—how silly was that? After sharing a brief glance with the gym leader, she let out a loud sigh.

"I'm going to go, and I'm going to have a shower." She expressed while approaching his curtains and tugging them closed, in the distance, he could see the sun setting.

"Wasn't it morning?" he murmured, and Misty could only shake her head dutifully as she smiled at him. Shortly, she brushed her hand against his blankets and then gave him a curt, defeated head shake that worried him to no end.

"Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." She muttered oddly while walking out of his room, the distant tap of her shoes indicating that she had left for real. The excitement over, he looked over at the window again. She had only shut the sheer blinds, so he could still see some of the sky. Maybe he had slept the entire day away? How odd. He wanted to press his hand against his forehead, but under current circumstances, he could not. Instead, he shut his eyes, trying to align his thoughts. Where was he? Why did everyone seem so awkward with him? Where was his mom? And what happened to him?

His eyes were too heavy to open, but he resolved that when he saw Misty next, he would ask her about this; but for now...he was simply exhausted.

Author's note:

Right off the top, I'm going to disclaimer this for all the nerds out there like me. I have done some moderate research about coma-patients for this story. That being said, for story-saving time, as well as the author's(my) sanity, I am not going into full-recovery detail. The first several weeks, sometimes months (depending on how long they were comatose) is spent slipping in and out of consciousness and relearning cognitive behavior (Such as listening/speaking/reaction/movement) but I'm going to breeze(d) through a lot of that. There's also the whole thing that people who are in a coma for longer than x amount of time are usually vegetables when they wake up, and most of the time they never recover...and technically, since Ash was out for ten years, that would classify as said vegetable and yet he is not.. and, well, I figure since I'm already breaking the rules, I might as well go big or go home!

Man, lots of amazing feedback for the first two chapters, thank you, guys. Here's to hoping I don't disappoint? -toasts-