(Edited: 2019-01-07)

Locked Away, Chapter 7

Four days later, he was off to a new and exciting journey: the assisted living home. While Misty told him earlier that week that the facility was not just for older people, Ash had to call her bluff. The only other people around him that morning were elderly individuals, either in wheelchairs or walkers. Ash, who held onto the railing against the wall of the white hospitals, watched the nurses around him gather other patients at the back entrance of the hospital in preparation for the transportation to the new facility. Prior to deciding on new living arrangements, Misty showed him pictures of the place. The building was inside of the Viridian Forest, which was supposed to bring natural peace to otherwise unruly patients. Ash found nature peaceful, his favorite moments at the hospital were the days he spent in the garden, so he understood why it calmed people.

Nevertheless, Ash was still on the fence about how they ripped out a part of Viridian Forest to put in an assisted living home. However, his wavering emotions about the destruction of the forest didn't sway his excitement to leave the hospital; he arrived at the pick-up area nearly an hour before the nurses started bringing the rest of the patients. While he was also typically in a wheelchair, he stood for the majority of the hour, testing the strength of his legs. Technically he was only supposed to walk with assistance, but standing in one spot was mostly acceptable, and they usually left him alone. Fortunately for him, during the last two days, Misty walked with him around most of the hospital rather than a nurse, staying close to the railings and following behind him with a wheelchair. For the most part, he was completely capable of walking on his own so long as he was able to sit when his knees started to wobble.

Like now, for instance. With a huff, Ash collapsed into the waiting chair beside him. In front of him, he watched an elderly woman twist he hands up in knots. She was in her late seventies with her hair high in a gray bun, knit a pink sweater and mumbling to herself. Attached to her wheelchair was a backpack full of goodies; trinkets and gifts. Everyone but Ash had items to take with them out of the hospital. He had only two paperback romance novels, and a medium blue vase—both supplied by the fiery red-head. A few days ago, some nurse in passing mentioned that his mother packed everything else he owned up shortly before removing him from life support. Subconsciously, he wiggled the small bag beside him—a bit anxious. Aside from Misty's gifts, he only had green hospital scrubs, which he was wearing, and a plastic grocery bag to hold his items. It was slightly pathetic, or sad, as the nurses liked to whisper under their breath.

Shifting his gaze away from the mumbling woman, he crossed one of his legs over the other and watched the outside door. The left door swung open, whipping in a gust of fresh morning air; the sun had not risen yet, and so a shiver ran up his spine from the darkness.

A jacket would have been nice, he thought, but the hospital's only 'available' version of a jacket was a goofy looking white robe—so he would bare with the cold for now. It wasn't like the bus ride would be strenuous, and there was probably heat in the vehicle.

He sighed loudly, shifting his feet and pressing his hands into his pockets. Even though he was stoked to be leaving the hospital, he had a nagging, desolate feeling deep in his chest. Pestering him for one reason or another. For over ten years, whether he was aware of the time spent or not, he had never left this hospital. He had not even been to the edges of the garden to view outside of the fence line. In the month and a half, he had been awake, he hadn't even stepped foot out the front door—barely making pace to explore the hospital only a day before he left; thanks to Misty. He was terrified of what was lurking around the corner for him; what if he couldn't handle the real world?

Eyebrows lowered nervously, Ash watched as the transfer nurse walked towards the group of gathered patients, all four of them, holding a clipboard. He rocked his knees together and swallowed hard. She had an air of professionalism about her, the tap of her black heels reminding him very briefly that Misty, who had been with him this far, was not here this morning with that horrible cup of coffee and morning paper.

Apparently, 5:00 am was even too early for her.

Wiggling out of his seat, he rose when the transfer nurse approached the group.

"Are we all ready to go?" She asked the otherwise less pleasant faces of the older generation and then set her eyes on Ash.

"Since you seem to be able to walk, why don't we get you in first?" She hummed gently, approaching him the same way she had done with thousands of other patients before. Skilled hands wrapped up and around his upper arm as support and guided Ash to the exit doors.

His heart raced in his chest. The first real step into the real world that he was ever going to take. Really, it was his first time consciously walking into Viridian City in his entire life. He gulped, squeezing the nurse's hand for some much needed moral support, inwardly swearing at Misty. The Gym Leader promised to meet him at the new facility and only refused to see him off from the hospital because he, "Needed to start taking steps on his own."

Ash knew that was noble of her, but damn it, she just threw him to the dogs. When the rush of the morning wind caught him, he would have fallen over had it not been for the patient-nurse beside him, who carefully goaded words of encouragement as they traced their way to the bus ramp.

The city smell hit him in the face like a train, and he inhaled sharply—taking in the distinct smell of rust and gasoline as he was funneled into the bus. He was sure that his pupils had dilated because he felt a sudden burst of adrenaline coarse through his veins, releasing the nurses' hands and bounding into the bus on his own. Much to her surprise, he managed to wriggle his way out of her grasp and down the narrow bus path and into the farthest seat in the back where he scooted into the authentic, woodsy leather seat. Standing with one knee on the seat, he jarred open the window, nearly breaking the latch. Fresh, yet polluted air hit him all at the same time, and while he couldn't see it yet because they were in a short overhang at the back of the hospital, he could feel the open world around him. Suddenly, it didn't feel so cold or scary.

Left to his own devices as the city came to life with the sound of bustling morning traffic, honking horns, the occasional person playing an instrument and the intense roar of morning construction. It all sounded so new. No, it was new. To him, at least.

"You'll need to sit before I can get another patient in, please," she called effortlessly, ripping Ash out of his world. He spun at her, and then nodded sadly, flopping into his seat.

Still. He watched.

XOX

Ash was the first patient on the bus, but the last one to get off since he was in the very back. From his seat facing the new facility, he waved at an otherwise occupied Misty who wore dark sunglasses and cradled a disposable cup between her gloved fingers. September was a colder month, especially in the morning. Her breath was visible as she hopped silently in one spot to keep warm. She had on a large dark red scarf, and a tan coat that ended middle-thigh, and once again, a pair of blue jeans to match her knee-high boots. Her hair, which had grown out to her shoulders in the last month was tied into a bun and she wore the same cascade earrings as the first day that he saw her.

Excitedly, having seen the city, albeit only a small portion, for the first time in his entire life, he nearly jumped out of the window to tell her about it. It was one of the most enthralling situations he had ever witnessed; not only that, he was now in the Viridian Forest, technically. It's where his journey started originally. It's where his journey was beginning now. Giddy and bursting with excitement, he almost forgot that he wasn't one hundred percent as he bound out of the bus and directly towards Misty.

A sparkle in his eye, he pumped his fists up.

"That was amazing." He chanted, recalling all the bright, pre-sunrise lights, the crowds of people; the cafes, restaurants, businesses, and the huge pokemon center... However, Misty didn't seem as impressed. She frowned at him.

"That's wonderful, but where's your jacket?" She asked heatedly, automatically ripping off her red scarf to throw it over Ash's neck. He welcomed the warmth with a shudder, having not noticed previously how cold he was. He rode the entire way to the facility with the window rolled down and his face glued to the glass to peer outside. His skin was covered in gooseflesh so he attentively cradled the warm scarf between his fingers and tucked his cold nose into the fabrics. A scent of some unknown flower wafted into his nostrils while the nurse behind him wagged her finger.

"Ash Ketchum, you should be using a walker, you're not supposed to walk on your own, let alone jog." She warned him, at the notion Ash felt his legs shaking, but was far too excited to give it any attention.

"It's fine, I grabbed him a wheelchair for the tour of the facility." Misty shot the nurse a sweet smile, dipping her leg slightly as a curtsy. Ash visibly flinched at Misty's words, looking and feeling betrayed by his friend who wheeled said locomotive around the corner to him. At first, he fought his weak knees defiantly but then released an audible sigh.

"Just when I thought I was done getting pushed around..." he grumbled.

"Can't have you falling down and getting injured, now can we?" Misty laughed with a subtle wink as Ash climbed into the familiar wheelchair with a dramatic sigh. The transport nurse followed them inside of the building as Misty popped a disposable cup in front of Ash; the same she had been holding while she waited for him. He blinked at it.

"...err..." he started, unsure of what to think of the gesture. "I've been meaning to tell you that coffee is kind of..." he trailed off as the appearance of the facility took his words away.

Looking at the tan walls, decorated with pictures and imagines of pokemon, and magazine covers his mouth fell agape. The navy blue carpet of the facility—a more vibrant assortment of colors compared to the hospital-he slipped his fingers around the beverage thoughtlessly. An older woman greeted them at the entrance with a cheery grin, the facility's administrator, and for the first time since waking up, he saw a glimpse of a real pokemon. A ratata ran across the hallway in front of him, and he held in his shrill of excitement. Misty pat him on the shoulder slightly to ease him and his excitement.

"It's hot chocolate, Ash." She mumbled gently, to which he looked down and smiled gratefully, chest-bursting with more excitement than worry.

"Oh." he blushed sheepishly. "Thanks."

XOX

Two hours after the tour of the facility, Ash was 'unpacking' what little he had from the hospital; otherwise known as setting down his blue vase on the nightstand beside his bed and tossing the books into the drawer below that. With a loud exhale, he collapsed onto the stiff bedding and rubbed his palm against his face tiredly.

Ash was exhausted. Not only because of waking up at 4:00 am but also because of the excitement of the morning, the overuse of his muscles-standing, walking, exploring—every bone ached beneath his flesh. He curled up slightly, and exhaled into the fresh-scented pillow and wrapped his cold fingers into his borrowed scarf. He lucked out as far as rooms went—most patients were forced to share a room, but because Ash was a special case, younger than most of the other residents, he was placed into a private room in the physical therapy unit of the building. His room was across from the physical therapy room and to the left of the open gym. Now, the room wasn't huge, it may have even been slightly smaller than the one he had at the hospital—but it had metallic blue walls and sandy brown office carpet. It felt more like an actual bedroom than he had the chance to be in for years.

A single window was at the far end of the room, beside a wooden wardrobe. His bed rested perpendicular to the window, with a reddish-pink couch beneath the lip of the window. White curtains swayed from the curtain rod, shading the morning sun from his otherwise tired eyes. He rolled over to look at the ceiling, which was painted boring white, and then finally to the right, at his private bathroom. The ability to shower without a bunch of older women hovering over him was so tempting he almost stripped down and locked himself inside for the rest of the day. Aside from the sponge baths, he was given daily, he hadn't been able to shower alone since, well, since he was ten. He shuddered. It was humiliating, and he could only muse in excitement at the valuable upgrade. Ash would be able to enjoy the rising steam all on his own, without watchful, prying eyes.

Thinking of a shower made him feel grimy: an odd feeling. Aside from times when he was very obviously dirty, covered in mud, or some other substance; he never remembered enjoying showers, or ever needing to have one when he dreamed. Going just a few weeks with only a sponge bath—longer than that, technically-made him feel foul enough. He couldn't imagine going weeks like had in his dreams without a shower. He opened his brown eyes with a disturbing grimace at the shuffle of Misty's clicking heels brushing against carpeted floors.

Ash watched her carry in a box of assorted goods and sat up in his bed, even though he didn't want to. A nap would have been nice, he thought.

"What's all of this?" He asked, thumbing the edge of the box as she dropped it onto the foot of his bed. Misty swat his hand away, to which he placed against his chest, pouting.

"Supplies." She suggested objectively. Stepping back, she stripped off her tan jacket and tossed it over his short dresser across from his bed while he tucked one of his legs up underneath his thigh and snooped into the box. Her red, long-sleeved shirt came into view as she maneuvered through the box to reveal a plastic kit with an assortment of bottles in it, as well as a mesh scrubber.

"What's that?" He questioned as Misty then took out a pair of scissors, and his stomach flipped at her awkward silence. She sniffled, calmly revealing a towel, and much to his surprise a few changes of clothes that were not hospital scrubs.

"I already said it. Supplies." She reiterated and then snapped the scissors at him.

"...Okay, those are supplies, but what are those for?" he asked with a gulp while tugging on his collar. Misty grinned.

"Don't you want to cut your hair?" She murmured with quirked eyebrows. Ash brushed his hand against his short ponytail and shook his head very slowly.

"..err.." He knew that at some point this would come up, but he wasn't exactly sure that he wanted Misty to cut his hair. It was still messy but his bangs had long since grown out, and the natural poof of his hair was neatly wrapped into a tie in his hair.

"I thought they said there was a salon here..." He grimaced worriedly, unable to look away from the silver sheers.

Misty pursed her lips; "Do you have fifty dollars for a trim I could make in thirty seconds?" She muttered, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. That was the problem thirty seconds was all she needed.

"Well, no...but..." she didn't have a very good history with hair cutting, or cooking.

"Then it's decided." Misty grinned at him and his eyebrows lowered as she approached him, and then with one short snip; the ponytail separated from the rest of his hair. He eyed the dead hair once she wiggled it away from his shoulders, and dropped it flaccid into the palms of his hand. He felt the weight leave his head and exhaled slightly. Distracted, he didn't notice that she snatched up another lump of his hair and cut again.

He shuddered.

"Misty, what are you doing!?" he shrieked, hand rising to the knot she cut out. She pouted her pink lips and blinked coldly at him.

"Cutting your hair." She said flatly.

"I thought you were just cutting the ponytail!" He panicked causing Misty's eyes to roll. She followed it with a subjective grin and lowered eyelashes as she ran her fingers over his scalp. He relaxed at the motion.

"Don't be a baby. Your hair will be easier to take care of when it's shorter." She brushed her hand through the long strands carefully and cut again, several times, this time without a fight from the boy below her.

"Besides... new place, new you." She said, "And I've cut your hair before. It's not a big issue." She added as an afterthought. Ash blushed due to embarrassment as he listened to the careful snips.

"You've cut my hair before?" He questioned, speaking through tight lips.

"Yeah, when you first landed yourself into a coma, I cut it every time I visited." She pulled on his scalp a little, lifting the top strands of his hair and cutting them shorter, a messy, rough-cut.

Ash chuckled nervously. "Why?"

"Your mom said that I could," She grinned slightly, cutting his bangs into shape. "And, I was like thirteen, so you were just a glorified barbie doll back then."

His face turned scarlet. "You didn't dress me or anything, did you?"

"No, but I painted your nails occasionally." She chuckled lightly, watching as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

"...Misty..." he grumbled hopelessly, rubbing his hot cheeks and shaking his head. The faintest smile still pressed over his lips.

In the meantime, she heaped a neat pile of his jet black hair into the trash bin beside his nightstand, having cut the hair into a spiky mess that fell above his shoulders. With his hair short, it had a natural volume to it, and aside from the lack of a good wash, it poked off his head naturally and didn't look as stiff as it had been the last few weeks. He looked like Ash Ketchum now, not Ash the coma patient. Wordlessly, Misty rested the scissors on his bed, dusted her hands off briefly and then stalked off into his washroom to wash her hands.

Seated on the bed, Ash touched his shortened hair, feeling where she had cut it shorter in the back—he probably needed a proper trim at some point but he thought this would work for now. Even though his face had taken on a permanent pinkish color, he felt more like himself when she reappeared, drying her hands on her jeans.

"Feel better?" She asked while returning her attention to the cardboard box she carried earlier. Her nonchalant nature once again pulled him back from his embarrassment, and he offered a weak smile.

"Yes, actually... so long as you didn't cut it into a bowl cut." He joked but she puckered her lips then smacked them before handing him the plastic container with bottles of soap, shampoos, and conditioner in it.

"It looks fine. You just need to wash it properly." She pointed at the kit, "That's yours." She added while fishing through the box once again. He held up the small container.

"Did the facility get me this?" He asked holding it up to her.

She shook her head, "No, I bought you that." She explained as she pulled out a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and dropped it over the towel she previously set aside.

"The laundry department, however, donated these." She started to empty out the box onto his bed, showing him several sets of sweat pants and jeans, a few flannel shirts, several plain white t-shirts, and a few black and blue ones. She smiled at him and started to fold the pants and tuck them away into his dressers.

"All of those?" he asked, stunned.

"Yeah. I told them you didn't have anything to wear and the lady said that they had a box of donations." Misty grimaced while she folded a set of jeans in particular that had several rips in the knee and smiled weakly. "They're not the best... but it beats hospital scrubs, right?"

Ash nodded vehemently and blinked up at her, turning his gaze back to the shower supplies she had bought him.

"But why did you buy this?" He questioned, popping open the lid of the container, immediately being blasted with the smell of musky, woody scents. He coughed slightly choking on the fragrance.

She pointed at him accusingly. "When you were in the hospital, you were not responsible for the fact that you smelled awful, so I let it slide." Having snapped, she returned to her business of folding clothes.

"Now, you don't have an excuse," she added sheepishly.

"I did not smell awful." he denied, the rosy color returning to his cheeks. Misty raised her eyebrows, folded her arms and leaned up against the dresser matter-of-fact.

"Really? You exercised every day and how many times did you have a shower?" Her voice pitched in a way to emphasize her words.

Ash gnawed on his bottom lip and then shifted his gaze away from her awkwardly. The answer was few, and very far in between; but as she said, it wasn't his fault.

"So," She approached him once more, taking out a spray from the kit she gave him. Twisting the bottle between her fingers while Ash watched skeptically, she eyed him deviously with quirking eyebrows.

"...what?" He asked, only she replied by squirting him a few times, much to his chagrin. Surprised, he fell backward, covering his face while she sprayed him several more times for emphasis. Laughter bellowed from his chest as he wriggled under the heavy scent.

"Now that you have the opportunity to shower I don't want to smell your body odor!" She choked through laughter as he flailed his arms defenselessly.

"Stop, stop!" He wailed gleefully, holding back his roaring laughter as to peek open one eye to stare at her. He rocketed forward and snatched the spray bottle out of her hand and stuffed it back into the pack.

"I smell like I bathed in it." he groaned, lifting his scrub top to his nose.

"But you smell better." She retorted wistfully. Ash cocked his jaw, but couldn't find it in himself to stay mad. Instead, he looked down at the hand-me-down clothes that she brought for him, and the kit and scrunched up his face uncomfortably—gratefully.

"I think I might go for that shower now, actually." Ash murmured, looking up to the bathroom.

"Yeah, probably not a bad idea," Misty smiled while pulling out a few hangers from the wardrobe by the window and quickly hanging up the five or six shirts that were donated to him.

"Um," Ash started awkwardly, shifting his feet. "Thank you," he said quickly, then ducked into the washroom before she replied.

XOX

Ash felt more like himself with every passing day.

Arguably, one could suggest that Ash didn't really know who he was, given that his entire life and personality was make-believe; mostly a point made by his therapist, but Ash felt human again. Within the first week of being at the facility, his body didn't creak every time he moved, sleep was mostly painless, and while exercise was still a daily routine, it didn't wind him like it used to. He had a ways to go, but he was there; constantly moving forward.

He exhaled as he jumped from the bed, and to his wardrobe. He tugged on a red and black flannel shirt and then tucked it into a pair of ripped jeans. His hair had taken a much more natural spike to it, one that suited his preferences much more than a ponytail—but the flannel was something he had to get used to. He tugged the final button at his neck closed and shuddered. Ash looked like a cowboy; all he needed was the boots and a hat, and he could sell it to anyone.

According to Misty, it was a 'nice' look on him; though, he would argue with her until he was blue in the face. Up until today, Ash hadn't worn the flannel shirt the whole week he was in the assisted living home. Ash opted for the sweat pants and t-shirts, things that were easy to run and exercise in, far more than the torn jeans and stiff fabric of the red and black shirt. His gaze shifted to the blue vase that rested on his nightstand—it had fresh, yellow lilies on the inside, courtesy of Misty—and his eyes filled with an amount of sadness.

That was happening today.

Misty told him yesterday evening of her plans, and while he tried to play it off as indifference, he was quite the opposite. Ash should not have been surprised, he knew at some point this would come up—it was not like he and Misty were anything more than friends. They were barely that. She wasn't even family: she had her own home to get back to. That didn't curb his slump, though.

Ash did not need help every day, or someone to watch his back anymore; he was allowed to go for walks on his own, had a satisfactory mental stability check that allowed for him to be on his own without constant surveillance. He was simply in the process of regaining his basic strengths and perfecting his motor skills at this point—mixed with the weekly visit from his therapist. Misty did not need to visit him anymore. He exhaled sharply, thinking about how he would be spending his days alone—or trying to talk with other residents of the facility—the latter of which was a challenge even on his best days. Caught up in his own thoughts, he had not noticed that Misty walked into his room after a faint knock.

Misty's eyebrows lifted upon seeing his attire and she could only scoff and shake her head. Very rarely had he made any attempt to look nice—so it was a bit flattering to know that he tried today of all days. Mischievously, she carefully took her phone out of her back pocket, and flipped over to the camera and pointed it at him.

"Hey, Ash." She said abruptly, cutting his attention short as he spun around with a look of alteration. A flash and bemused Ash later, Misty was left giggling.

"Really?" He questioned, rubbing his sore eyes clear of the bright, white light of the flash.

"You look nice." She complimented, holding the phone up for him to see his image. In contrast with how he started, he looked a million times healthier—and taller. Had he always been so tall? He blinked and then before he could start building his own ego, Misty snapped the phone away and tucked it back into her pocket.

"Thanks." he offered awkwardly, unsure of how to present himself.

"Well... I talked with the physical therapist." She said, catching his shifting gaze. "She said that you should be good to go in about a month if you keep at your current recovery pace."

His smile up-turned, and Misty sighed; this was the first reason she had to leave: he never asked questions himself, he always relied on her to ask them for him.

"Only a month? So that will be late October then?" He asked, glancing over at his calender; a wash of satisfaction, and then another of intense fear lapsed into his chest—he knew not to pester Misty with the latter, however.

"Yeah, right around Halloween." She peeled off her tan jacket and lapped it over the armrest on a chair, and then raised her eyebrows playfully; "Hey, maybe you're not too old to go trick-or-treating." She joked while sliding into the blue chair that a nurse had lent to her to sit in Ash's room. She wore a blue tank-top beneath a sheer white, long-sleeved blouse, and a pair of black tights, matched with her knee-high boots. Ash blinked up at her appearance, recognizing it as the first outfit he saw her in but chose not to say anything.

"I wasn't allowed to go trick-or-treating when I was a kid, so I doubt it." He joked instead, sitting on his bed while Misty crossed one knee over the other.

With an eyebrow raise that matched the tilt of her head, she asked; "Your mom never let you go?"

"Pallet Town was really small back then—the mayor would throw a Halloween party that most of the town would attend. My mom always ran the buffet tables, so I spent my Halloweens helping out." He suggested sadly while curling his fingers into the bedsheets. Misty shot her gaze downward and twisted her lips slightly.

"You really miss her, don't you?" Misty asked, touching on a subject that was otherwise left alone. Ash shifted uncomfortably.

"...It's a little weird, huh? I mean, I haven't seen her, not really, in over ten years and yet..." He stammered off, staring once again at the yellow lilies. White light poured in from the window and pressed against his back to warm himself, but he felt chilled.

"It's not weird Ash." Misty retorted confidently, reassuringly. "She's your mom, you're allowed to miss her... Besides, I'm sure that once you guys do meet again, it will be fine."

Ash looked up at her with beady, pathetic looking eyes and then exhaled painfully.

"I can't believe your leaving, too." He accused with a playful tone and grin, but the underlying pain was there. Misty shot him a sad grin in return.

"I can't sleuth off my duties as a gym leader anymore, the league will start to get pissed at me." She grumbled, hooking her fingers around her purse and drawing the bag into her lap carefully.

"I suppose." Ash muttered, pursing his lips. "It's just going to be weird, is all."

"You'll be better before you know it," Misty assured him, and then from her bag, she removed an oval about the size of her head. Ash blinked seeing the pale egg and lowered his eyebrows.

"What's that?"

"A gift. Well, sort of." Misty muttered and tossed her bag against the floor and stood up, approaching Ash with her hands outstretched around the object. She took a seat beside him, the waft of woody scents rather than body odor placating her nose.

"An egg?" Ash questioned, looking from the egg to Misty, and then back at the egg with a tilt of his head.

"Yeah, a pokemon egg. It's for you." She wobbled the egg in front of Ash, and he very, very slowly scooped the egg from her touch and inhaled at the sudden weight of the life in his hands. Misty dusted her fingers together and he inhaled, bringing it slowly to his lap as he brushed his fingers along the rough patches.

"I figured that since I won't be around, and you haven't made any friends—this will give you something to do in your spare time when you're not 'reading'..." Misty suggested, thoughtfully. Ash inhaled, then glanced at her—she was always so brutally honest. 'that he hasn't made any friends'. He shifted his gaze away from her shamefully.

"That's very thoughtful, but..."

"No buts you're accepting it." She half demanded, crossing her arms.

"But why?" Ash laughed nervously.

"Because if you know you have the responsibility of something else, you won't do anything stupid." She confirmed harshly, staring into his eyes. Ash whipped his gaze back around at her, his eyebrows lowered. So she still didn't trust him alone. He looked away, he didn't exactly blame her, though.

He tried his best to grin, but the overwhelming depression hung over him; had she only stuck around because she thought that he would decide to give up? Over the last couple of days, she had been around less and less, and Ash could feel himself drain a little. However, he rubbed the top of the egg and exhaled.

"I'll take good care of it." he offered confidently, and Misty raised her eyes and smiled. She stood.

"Good, because you don't have a valid pokemon license so it's still technically mine, and I don't want it to be dead when I come to pick it up in a month."

"What?" he squeaked, seeing her devious grin for the first time, a pink blush covered his cheeks.

"I said, I'll be back for it in a month." She mused, placing her hands on her hips happily, and finally knocking out the depression from his eyes. He stood up, albeit quickly, and Misty almost jumped out of her skin watching the way he nearly dropped the egg.

"Be careful!" She shrieked as he pulled it up into his arms. Misty was not used to Ash being so active—for the last two months, he was barely walking, let alone standing up with a start.

"I will. Don't freak out." He grumbled through puffed cheeks.

"I swear to... If you..." She yammered but then sighed in defeat. Misty already gave it away, she couldn't very well take it back. Instead, she tramped back over to her purse, revealed a small, spiral notebook and scribbled a few names and numbers onto the paper. Ash watched her with a questioning gaze as she spun back around and ripped the parchment out with one swoop.

"What's this?" He asked as she held out the names and numbers to him.

"That's my contact information. The first one is my cell number—which if you do call, call that one. The second one is the gym; only call that one if it is an emergency and you can't reach me—otherwise you will probably get one of my sisters and they're a bit..."

Ash grinned, "strange." He finished and Misty shrugged her shoulders amazingly.

"That's not the word I would use to describe them, but yes. Strange." She muttered watching as Ash tucked the note away into his back pocket.

An awkward silence filled the space between them, neither adult knowing exactly what to say to the other. Misty inhaled first, but Ash, as he ran his hand through his shortened hair, looked down at the egg, shifted his feet uneasily. Beating her to the punchline he opened his mouth first:

"I know we weren't really close in this world, Mist." He accidentally dropped her nickname which brought her attention directly to his eyes, which were cast downward, "and I know you didn't have to stick around—but..."

He closed his eyes happily, an earnest smile pulling on his lips as he faced her; "I really appreciate everything that you've done. Thank you."

Misty blushed, one of the first Ash caused the girl, and she smiled sweetly in return. "I'm sure if the roles were reversed, you would have done the same." She assured him, but Ash's deflated shoulders and scratch of his neck told her otherwise.

"I would have tried." He grumbled, a bit embarrassed—unsure if he could have the same patience and maturity as she did with him.

She patted him on the upper arm and shrugged slightly; "Don't sell yourself short."

He glanced down at her palm against his shoulder but forced his eyes back to hers. Physical touch was still abnormal for Ash.

"So... what now?"

"Well, since you're settled in, I guess I'll see you in a month?" She offered, taking a few steps away from him. He inhaled slightly, his chest rising.

"I'm going to miss you." he paused, averting awkwardness by adding with a chuckle; "Who is going to bring my morning coffee, now?"

Misty slapped him hard on the chest for that, causing him to fumble backward and hold tighter around the egg cradled in his left arm. They laughed.

"You never drank them anyway." She crooned through the bitter-sweet moment. "I will have to cut back now because I won't have an excuse to buy two."

Worriedly, she looked up at his eyes, her sea-green ones reflected sincerity through them; "Are you sure you're going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine. I can take care of myself." He assured her, turning to place the egg gently against his pillow—he would need to find some blankets to wrap it in later.

"Says the boy who electrocuted himself." she said slyly, he rolled his eyes.

"I didn't do it on purpose." He muttered halfheartedly.

They turned at one another, breath hitching in his throat; Misty's released in a sigh.

"So I guess this is goodbye?" Ash gloomily queried.

"I guess so, but I'll be back... and besides," She pointed at the wired telephone beside his bed. "If you ever get lonely, Psyduck is available all hours of the day."

Ash smacked his lips assertively and shook his head with a grin forming around pink cheeks. His tan skin had returned, if only slightly, and he chuckled at her forwardness.

"I'll remember that." He offered playfully, kicking his foot against his rug. Misty nodded slowly, looping her thumbs into her pockets before rolling her eyes and dashing forward at him. She threw out her arms briefly, and much to his astonishment, she brought them around his back.

Misty hugged him, and his arms went up in surprise. Such a brief motion, he could only smell the flowery perfume for a second, and then the heat was gone and she was standing away from him with a cheery smile. He blinked at her.

"I guess we will see what you're like in a month." she pointed at him while slowly backing away. She scooped up her tan jacket and tossed it up over her shoulders and shouldering her bag. Ash had not moved from his location, still stunned from the hug. Misty smiled at him.

"See you around, Ash." She waved at him, turning to leave. He waved back only briefly with an awestruck gaze. The moment she was out of view, however, his entire body surged with life, and his heart pounded back in his chest like a racer; he jogged to his door and cupped his mouth.

"Thanks for everything!" he called, getting a very Misty, hand over shoulder wave in return as she slipped on her sunglasses at the same time.

Ash inhaled, letting his shoulders fall as a few nurses glanced at him. Once she turned the corner out of his view, he returned to his bed. Taking a look around his otherwise empty room, he spotted her red scarf still hanging against his wardrobe, shifting very gently with the breeze provided by the cracked window. It was like a scar in his otherwise neutral-colored room, and he came to it before his body knew what it was doing.

Carefully, his fingers touched the soft fabric and then brought the scarf down into the palms of his hands where he eyed the outside world. He saw the patio dining area from his bedroom, where a few older women smoked cigarettes and gossiped about their jobs. Beyond that, the forest lumbered high around wooden fences, and he saw the path that led directly to the open road—A yellow taxi swooshed beyond the fence line, and if only for a moment, he saw the red of her hair inside.

She was really gone.

He inhaled the clean forest air, and looked down at the scarf, thumbing the fabric until he brought it back to his bed. Seating himself beside the egg, he used the borrowed scarf to wrap the egg into a cocoon and then sighed.

Ash knew he had to learn to cope with being alone, that a large part of her leaving, whether she would ever admit it to him or not, was because Ash relied too heavily on the girl. He was getting better every day, but only within the confounds of her unintentional grasp. He didn't need to talk with his doctors, or nurses, or really anyone else at the facility, because he always managed to convince Misty to do it for him—not because he couldn't but because he simply...

Wasn't ready to.

With her gone now, she was pushing him to take the next steps to independence. He had to be able to take care of himself; arguably, maybe that was what he needed the most—to be pushed. He inhaled, watching the deadening egg with confident eyes. He could do this. When they met again, he would be three hundred times better than he was today; he hoped. Ash would be ready to take on the world again—he would be able to answer all of the questions he had created for himself about this world, and he would start fresh.

"See you soon..." He mouthed, brushing the egg with his fingertips.

Author's Note: 2019-01-07:

Originally asked what the egg was going to be, I feel guilty that I said I wasn't sure, but after posting this chapter I KNEW what it was going to be. Still, I asked. Cheap shot.

Thanks for all the reviews

NINT