(edited.2020.03.31)
Locked Away, Chapter 9
A week into his final month of recovery, his request to be assessed by the Viridian City Assisted Living Home's therapist, Dr. Abby, was accepted. She was a woman who had only recently moved to Viridian City after getting married, though, Ash's only care was that she wouldn't pester him with tiresome questions and make him feel worse than he already did.
It was already the end of the day when he received the news. The sun faded fast behind the horizon of storm clouds as the painful woes of daylight savings time squeezed the long days to a short close. Brought with it, the draw of winter winds lapping at his window and cutting in through his shutters. It was cold, so after physical therapy, rather than going for his normal jog, he opted for a warm shower and blankets.
The nice old lady he played cards with after breakfast, Agatha, had knit him a proper winter sweater, but it still didn't provide enough warmth for the hailing weather. Glancing outside the sprayed window, he wondered where the freak thunderstorm came from. He shuddered, wrapping his arms around the egg that Misty had given him, holding it under the blanket to keep it warm as he did in the evenings. Whether the information was correct or not, he wasn't sure, but he thought that the eggs needed some heat provided every day—or something like that. He glanced down at the egg, feeling the embodiment of something growing inside and sighed. Maybe he would ask Agatha tomorrow? She seemed to know a lot about pokemon.
Shifting in his bed, he leaned against his headboard, listening to the howl of the wind outside, and the turbulent whip of the storm. His muscles ached the most when it rained, and his body felt every ache and turn in the shifting clouds above the facility; remembering once how Dr. Sebastian suggested rainy days were a reflection of Ash's mental depression. Surely Ash was no longer asleep, but during the thick of the storm, he questioned it. Maybe he should not have given any attention to the therapist's advice—but at least some of what the twisted man had told Ash made sense. Some of his earlier input on Ash's condition was thoughtful and somewhat helpful—it was only after Ash's two weeks of abrupt silence that the therapist took a deep, dark turn into uncanny resentment. Somewhere, Ash felt like he knew the man, but couldn't place his finger on where. Possibly his dreams?
Ash licked his teeth, rubbing his thumbs in circles over the surface of the egg. To be honest, the longer he was awake, the foggier his mind became about details; the strongest inputs—his companions, his pokemon, a few battles, those were unforgettable; but everything else was... Lightning cracked outside of his window and he felt a jolt shoot through him at the sight. Startled, he hunched over in his bed and exhaled. He was finding he was twitchy during thunderstorms—to the point of avoiding them completely if possible. It was like needles. Ash brushed his hands over his arms habitually, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't explain it, but something about the unconscious effects of his anxieties... thunderstorms caused it. Doom hung over him in a cloud while memories that weren't memories flooded his mind, and he was reminded of the day he nearly died.
For the first time in a week, he glanced at the phone beside his bed, as well as the numbers left there by Misty. Her bubbly writing caused shivers to run down his spine, he relented. Earlier that week, he made a pact with himself that he would not call her unless he absolutely had to—he had already bothered her enough as it was, he didn't want her to feel more pressure. Swallowing, he felt the familiar rapid beat of his heart as he thought about the red-head. A part of him felt like he was only a nuisance. Thunder roared outside, and Ash had to inhale deeply to calm his nerves. Another part of him felt like the part of him that leaned on her was entirely justified; Ash had no else.
After the departure of Dr. Sebastian, Ash made a few 'friends' at the home; mostly in Agatha who would follow him around and force him to attend gatherings with her. If there was an activity going on, she would find him, where ever he was, and invite him. If Ash told her no, she would insist until he buckled—in a lot of ways, it was like having Misty around. Ash chuckled, forgetting the storm for a moment. A much wrinklier, gray-haired version; but none-the-less, it was nice to have someone to talk to.
That did not, however, open the door to talk about his therapist; he had kicked out quite possibly his only hope to leave here soon. If Sebastian wrote a bad review for Ash to the home's doctor, he might be spending longer than he wanted between these four walls. Not that he minded the metallic blues—but he wanted to find his mom, and pikachu, as soon as possible.
His drive to find his family was quite possibly his innate force of recovery; what if something bad happened to her, and he did not know? After Misty left, he questioned a million times if he should have asked Misty to go to Pallet Town, just to check on her—but inwardly, he knew that he had no right to make such a request of the gym leader. Finding his mother was something he would need to do on his own.
Again, his face flushed hot, and he glanced at the phone once more. Eyes shifting to the bare wall across the room from him, the sheets of rain increased outside. Since when was a phone call supposed to be this difficult? He had spent a little over a month talking with her every day. A phone call should have been the easiest action for him to complete after all of the mundane, intense training he was worked through over the last two months.
Yet, he found his fingers twiddling around the egg, and his lips pursing at the idea. Maybe he didn't want to call her until he was better—one hundred percent better—another part of him was worried she would be mad about him throwing his therapist out on his ass. That, or she would be extremely happy; he knew that she was not fond of the therapist, but he wasn't sure how far that escalated. He still needed mental help, clearly. Ash only wished that'd be easier to achieve. He pressed his forehead against the egg and stifled the whimper in his throat as lightning struck above the home. He couldn't see it, but he felt it. His hairs rose on his arms, shivers collected in his spine, and spiraled out until he felt nauseous.
In the end, after struggling back and forth, Ash dangled his legs off the side of his bed, rested Misty's egg on his pillow, and picked up the corded phone. Exhaling very slowly, he dialed the number of her cell phone as she suggested, and held the phone up to his ear. His breath hitched in his throat.
It rang twice, then a third and fourth time-by the fifth time, Ash was about to chicken out and slam the phone on the receiver when her voice cracked the hum.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded different over the phone, slightly deeper—maybe a bit scratchier; but it was definitely her. Maybe it was weird, and it was. He knew it was... but relief washed through his entire body, and suddenly, the storm wasn't so loud, and his body relaxed. His voice caught at the tip of his tongue but he forced out some type of throaty-squawk.
He heard the confusion inflicted in her voice; "Err... Hello?" She tried again, and this time Ash inhaled.
"Hey!" he nearly shouted, and then covered his mouth with the palm of his hand. A short pause followed, as if she was trying to deduce the voice.
"Ash?" She pegged finally, and Ash let out a very loud, elated sigh.
"Yeah, it's me." He offered shyly, hearing her chuckle from her end of the conversation.
"Lonely already?" Misty joked, causing Ash to sputter nervously.
"No." he half-denied. "I made a friend."
"Did you?" her voice pitched eagerly, and Ash heard the splash of water. "With who?" She questioned honestly, and Ash couldn't believe the level of calmness in her voice—was he the only one who was freaked out over the phone call? Surely it was weird for her as well. Maybe it was just the storm outside. His head hurt-he wasn't sure.
"A lady named Agatha."
"Hah!" she chirped, followed by a low chuckle. "You sure know how to pick friends, Ash."
He scowled, shoulders relaxing slightly at the sound of her laugh. He leaned beside his egg, propping his feet up onto his bed, crossing his ankles.
"What do you mean?" he whined, partially insulted.
"Agatha is a retired Elite-Four member, Ash. She was one of the best, right after Lorelei, of course." Misty gushed, and once again he heard the splash of water; the breathless nature of her words. Ash blinked—she must have been swimming, but that wasn't the most important knowledge he had been given that day.
"She's what?" Ash mused, shocked by the revelation; that old woman was a former elite-four?
"A former member of the Elite-Four." She confirmed Ash's question once again, flustered slightly. "Her specialty was ghost pokemon..." Misty paused. "She left almost nine years ago, though."
Ash gawked slightly, "She said that you talked with her? Didn't you recognize her when you were here?"
"Well, obviously or I wouldn't believe you when you said she was there. She's way too spry to be in an assisted living home." He heard the eye-roll in her voice and shook his head with a slight chuckle.
"Why is she here, then?" He asked quickly.
Misty paused, taking a deep breath; "I'm not sure. I didn't ask." she whisked truthfully.
"Hey, how's my egg?" She asked quickly, changing the subject. Ash stumbled over his words while glancing down at the egg he has been unconsciously stroking.
"The egg? It's still in one piece." he mumbled, then felt a trace of his immature side leak out; "Thanks for instructions, by the way." he said sarcastically, getting a chuckle in return.
"I thought you could figure it out. It's not rocket science." she mocked.
"You do know I was in a coma for ten years, right? I'm not exactly a maternal person." He pressed playfully, feeling his cheeks flush.
She scoffed, "So you have the mindset of a ten-year-old, what else is new?"
"Gee, thanks, Mist."
"Ahaha." She laughed awkwardly, fumbling the way she did every time her nickname was used. He knew it bothered her to some extent, but she hadn't yelled at him about it; so he continued to use it. Shifting, he pressed his hand to one side of the egg and clucked his tongue.
"...So. I sort of fired my therapist.." He admitted for the first time since the incident, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. The rafters slammed against the window and drew his attention to the storm once again; he almost missed her reply.
"Sebastian? That loon? It's about damn time. I don't even know how he got a medical license."
"You seem to say that about a lot of people." Ash teased her.
"Well, if so many people wouldn't suck... I wouldn't have to," she added confidently, causing Ash to chuckle.
A brief silence followed before Ash wiggled his toes and glanced back down at the egg. "So do you know what kind of pokemon the egg will hatch into?"
"Nope," she said flatly.
"No?" Ash echoed, sounding alarmed.
"No." she paused, "I didn't ask." She managed.
Ash's eyebrows lowered as he glanced down at the egg beside him—what if it turned into an electorb? He shuddered, that was all he needed; to be blown into pieces by a surprise visit from the exploding pokemon.
"Why didn't you ask?"
"...It's not like it will hatch in a month, anyways." She affirmed, sounding slightly deflated.
"You don't know that!" Ash shrieked picking the egg up with his hands and placing it back into his lap.
"Well, have you been taking it on walks with you?" Misty Asked.
Ash scoffed, "No. Am I supposed to?"
"See, that's why it's not going to hatch. You have to take it on walks with you." She coached him and he could feel his face flush.
"...Why?" His eyebrows knit together slowly as if framing the question. What on earth would walking with it accomplish?
"I don't know, that's just what the researchers suggest—it's in that trainer magazine I left you." she scolded matter of fact. "Haven't you been reading those?"
No, he thought while shamefully looking at the small stack of papers that she left him. He was guilty of sitting with Agatha and Scott during the later part of the evenings, catching up on news and headlines rather than locking himself in his room. A part of him craved social structure—quite possibly because he was away from it for ten damn years.
"I must have missed that part." He lied, but Misty chuckled knowingly—apparently, even though he was a few hundred miles away, she still saw right through him.
"Of course you did." She said sarcastically. "Been slacking off since I've been gone, have you?"
"No." he denied, his face heating up at the allegation. "I've just been... busy."
"Mhm. I bet you have been." She mocked him in that confident voice that brought upon that unfamiliar pounding behind his ribcage, the pounding that robbed him of both his thought process and breath.
"I miss you." He uttered before he could reel in the words; it sounded as pathetic as he felt and he turned a very deep shade of red at the admittance. Misty mentioned before that missing people was normal but... Misty was...well...
"Aww," She cooed with a tsk, and Ash felt his body turn to stone. How endearing, almost like his mother was saying it back to him. That, or she was belittling him, and if Ash knew this Misty well enough, she was most definitely not belittling him.
"Thank you." As if adding insult to injury, she pressed salt into the wound—completely negating to say that she missed him back... Ash realized, she probably didn't! Of course, she wouldn't, he was more of a hindrance anyways. She ran after him the entire time he was in the hospital, took care of all the stuff he should have. Oh no, what was he doing? The relaxation she brought suddenly escalated the severe anxiety he was already having, and his body shook.
"Anyways, I have to go." Ash stammered, fumbling to kick his feet back over the bed, nearly dropping the egg in the process. Misty shifted on her end.
"I need to shut down the gym anyways." She murmured, and Ash heard the fleeting tone of her voice.
"'kay." He managed embarrassingly, slapping his palm against his face and running it down to his chin.
Then, she added; "Don't be a stranger, Ash, I hope you're feeling better."
"Thank you." He offered, remembering his manners, barely. "I'll see you around, then."
"Yeah. Talk to you later." She responded nonchalantly.
With that, she hung up before Ash dropped the phone down onto the nightstand beside his bed. His hands shook worse now than they did before the storm started. What in the world was wrong with him? This wasn't a long-term effect of the coma, was it? The rapid pulsing of his chest pushed him into over-drive, and he kicked off from his bed, checked his black sweat pants and red-shirt and stormed out of his room in a huff.
He needed to run. A very, very long run.
XOX
Ash did not get the nerve to call Misty again the following week. When he tried, some nagging, persistent force kept his fingers from mashing the correct buttons and he found himself dawdling, holding the phone with his mouth hung open like a damn magikarp. Twice, a nurse had walked in on him in this position and embarrassed him. Once by the strange nurse known as Mary who compulsively seemed to rummage through his things on occasion. Typically, Ash might have brought this behavior up to the head nurse, but he had no lasting evidence to prove that the girl was. Instead, Ash started taking his little secret—the egg—every with him in a small knapsack he wore on his back. It wasn't that he thought Mary would steal it—he just felt overly protective of it the longer he was forced to take care of it.
Today, he was going for a walk on the forest path outside of the assisted living home, one that led in a semi-circle for a quarter-mile through the forest. It was the only one he was allowed on because it only took a few minutes to walk. If he didn't return in that time frame, people were supposed to look for him.
The fresh morning air crisped the dew-covered leaves in the bile of frost. Even with two sweaters on, Ash was chilled to the bone. Worried about the egg he forced it over his shoulder and brought it into a cradle in his arms. He still used the scarf Misty left him to warm the egg and himself on the coldest of days. Ash nudged the scarf off from around his neck to wrap the egg and then heaved a short sigh; if the temperature kept the steady decline he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to take morning walks.
While it wasn't really that cold in a technical sense, it was freezing to Ash. His body hadn't adapted to the vicious elements of the world yet—sure he was gaining muscles and strength, but the pressure of running on a treadmill versus the path of the forest was like day and night. The forest path was hard mode and the treadmill was easy mode—even if he intentionally neglected to tell his physical therapist this. Ash thought that if he mentioned the differences, they might inquire to push his therapy for another month; and Ash did not want to stay another month.
This wasn't home. It was far from it. He needed out as much as he needed recovery.
"If you don't look forward when you walk, you could trip and smash that egg, you know." The familiar, scratchy voice drew his attention to a woman in a pink dress sitting on the bench facing the small stream along the path. Ash smiled at her.
"Good morning, Agatha." He mused politely, approaching the bench.
"It's good to see you've started taking it with you everywhere. Though... if someone saw that you had it, they might not react so nicely." She coached him—probably the only person who knew that Ash carried an egg around with him—if anyone else knew, they didn't make a comment about it. Most recovering hospital patients didn't just walk around with an egg, after all. The facility was fair about pokemon being allowed in the building, but those were therapist pokemon, the residents didn't own any of them.
"Yeah... I figured that out." Ash murmured, recalling Mary's frantic spiel around his room. She was only looking for "an earring" that she misplaced, but Ash wasn't that stupid. In the last two weeks, he learned one very, large, comical feature about the yellow-haired nursing assistant: she could easily be classified as a rapid Misty fan girl. Ash tried his darnedest to steer clear of her.
"Come, sit, sit. Enjoy the brisk morning with me." Agatha waved him forward, and Ash did as he was told. Shuddering at the feeling of the cold, metallic bench seeping through his pants when he took a seat beside her. He looked at the frosted over stream with some curiosity and shivered compulsively. Agatha tapped her cane slightly against her knee.
"Do you know what kind of pokemon it is yet?"
"I haven't got a clue."
"The red-head didn't tell you?" Ash raised an eyebrow at her, slightly peeved by the reference to Misty as anything other than her name, knowing well now that Agatha knew the gym leader previously. Then again, Ash was "the recluse", so at least she wasn't titling Misty among those lines.
"She said she didn't know, either."
"Hah," The older woman mused crossing her knee over the other. "That's doubtful."
"You think so?" Ash pressed.
"Ahh, I know so," Agatha recalled, licking her lips as if recalling a memory. "The red-head was always the crafty one; she's was already a lot smarter back then than she gave herself credit for; that doesn't seem to be an issue now." The gray-haired woman seethed with a chipper smile; referencing the time nine years ago when she was apart of the Elite-Four and quite possibly, Misty's former 'boss'.
Ash blinked curiously. "What do you mean?" He asked, having never heard about Misty, aside from the fact that she was considered the "tomboyish mermaid" and had "A little bit of a mean streak".
"It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago. People change." Agatha motioned to Ash as if emphasizing him. Ash flushed and looked down at the wrapped egg in his lap.
"So you were the boy in the coma for years, were you?" She deduced finally.
"That's me," Ash admitted, a little nervous at this conversation finally coming up.
"You were quite the talk of the region for a while; Ash Ketchum, the boy who survived lethal electrocution from an over-powered pikachu." Agatha quipped, as if she were reciting from a new article. Ash eyed her.
"It's funny how people were more concerned about you when you were unconscious than they are now that you're awake, don't you think?" She nodded to him.
Ash's shoulders rose and then fell. "...I haven't thought about it much, truthfully."
"So simplistic." Agatha taunted, crossing her arms.
"What do you mean by that?" Ash scowled, furrowing his eyebrows.
"You should ask more questions; you've been asleep for ten years and you don't question everything?" She winced. "What if someone was lying to you?"
Ash's head spun, "Well...I do ask questions..."
"But who do you ask? Yourself, or someone else?"
Misty flashed through his mind and Ash blinked up at Agatha, catching onto her meaning. He was supposed to ask himself the hard questions; find answers himself. She was essentially making the same point that Misty made—was it that painfully obvious that he was drifting? A frown tugged at his lips. He was doing that. Slowly, but he was managing.
"I have a meeting with a new therapist today," Ash admitted, tracing his fingers across the egg. Hopefully, the new therapist was his first step in the right direction. Agatha grinned.
"That's good. Perhaps you should ask yourself questions that you want the answers to, and then relay them to your therapist?" she gestured with her hand to some invisible force.
Inhaling, he nodded. The distant chirp of waking birds filled his ears, and he sucked in his lips and looked forward. "Agatha... if I told you that I knew you from somewhere else; what would you say to that?"
The old woman smiled, standing up from the bench and beginning to fluff out her skirt as she pulled on her groovy glasses once more. "I would say that anything is possible."
As if a light bulb turned on in Ash's head his eyes took a desperate gleam to them that brought an overwhelming heat to all of his joints and muscles as he stood up, and smiled at the woman.
"Thank you!" He beamed, but, in a passive fashion, she waved her hand and exhaled; showing her age.
"We ought to get back before they send in the search party." She motioned to the trail Ash followed to reach the bench. "Care to walk an old woman home?" She motioned to her elbow, and Ash let out a paunch laugh as he hooked his arm around hers gently.
"Of course." He said gratefully, guiding her back to the facility.
XOX
The room was bright, excessively so—but not in the white wall fashion.
Each wall was painted a different color. Behind him, red, to the left, blue, to the right green, and in front of him, yellow. The decor was not any better; between the egg-shaped chair, she sat in, the bright orange couch he sat on, the metallic sheen of the coffee table and then in one corner, a jumbled mess of a desk. He wasn't sure how the word 'loud' worked really, but this was passed that. Borderline screaming. The only normal aspect of the entire room was the dark wooden shelf lumbering over her maroon curtains, which held a single, gold trophy, and several pictures of his new therapist with an older looking man with brown hair. They looked oddly familiar, but Ash couldn't place his finger on what or why. After a moment, he recognized the trophy as the ribbon cup—one that May hoped to win when he 'traveled' with her. How strange.
It took a few moments for Ash's eyes to focus on the teal haired woman sitting across from him with a large plump belly. While Ash was no expert, and he would sooner cut off his own tongue before asking—he assumed she was pregnant.
"Hello, Ash. It's nice to meet you." She gushed, holding onto a clipboard that seemed much less threatening than Dr. Sebastian's. Ash clawed his fingers into his pants legs.
"Hi..." He sputtered nervously, unsure of himself or what to say. He had done like Agatha suggested and developed a set of his own questions, but he wasn't sure how nice this new therapist would be; her bubbly personality almost swallowed him up.
"Oh please, relax, relax." Dr. Abby gestured and waved her hand. She sat forward to slap the clipboard on the table. "I believe in honesty. I don't think we can go anywhere if we haven't developed a decent relationship... so, I'm going to let you read what Dr. Sebastian wrote about you, and if you feel that he was unfair anywhere, I want you to tell me." She handed Ash stack of papers that rested on her coffee table—Ash's breathing stilled.
"Don't be nervous, but please wait to say anything until after you've read through the entire material. Okay?" She smiled sweetly at him, and Ash grimaced as he recoiled into the loud orange sofa, and started the begrudged task of Dr. Sebastian's heartless nature.
Thanks to all the magazines and newspapers he had read over the last two months his reading capabilities improved seven-fold—Dr. Sebastian's words were no different, and aside from a few medical terms, Ash followed along decently. As he suspected, the man started off by saying that Ash was delusional, followed quickly by calling him 'unstable' a term that he used frequently. The portion classifying Ash's mute nature for two weeks was constantly accusing Misty of being a terrible influence on Ash's recovery, followed quickly by referring to her as 'detrimental' to his continuing health; thus the result in suspension after telling Ash the truth—apparently, Dr. Sebastian's effective way of removing her was by accusing her of seeking Ash's assets...
Ash rolled his eyes and Dr. Abby made note of that. Joke was on him. Ash didn't own anything. If anything, he was going to be in debt for the rest of his life over his doctor bills, and he was sure Misty wasn't after debt.
As he continued to read, his notes became less detailed, and inaccurate, jumbled full of lies—Ash had never raised his voice to the therapist aside from the time he arrived at the assisted living home. Ash's eyebrows scrunched up. Ash also never talked to the therapist about hearing voices, or about being abused by the hospital staff—or really, about anything following the information that Misty was suspended. It was all lies. In fact, Ash remembered very clearly his pressure to talk to Ash about his dreams; but none of that was in the report after the initial start of recovery.
"These are lies." Ash summarized, reading the last line which accused Ash of being hostile in the new facility, borderline psychotic and mentally unstable—he was even advised to be 'locked up' until Ash made a full recovery.
Dr. Abby smiled; "I've been watching you for a week." She admitted gleefully, earning a flustered look from Ash. "And I concur. His reports start off thorough as if he is really assessing you and somewhere in the middle, they break off into constant accusations that you are not mentally sound, demanding longer hours of therapy—yet here you are." She gestured to Ash and he looked down at himself, and then back at her. He was wearing the same jeans and flannel shirt he saw Misty off in; as it was his most decent attire.
"Mentally sound. Well, at least I think so. You haven't.." She paused, looked at the report and quoted the other doctor. "Attempted to cut me with the razor blade you stole from the nurse's station."
"I never did any of those things," Ash confessed honestly, a nervous look forming in his eye. Dr. Abby gracefully raised her hand and inhaled.
"I won't say I believe you, because we have not gotten to know each other yet—but I sincerely doubt that someone who cradles an egg and carries it around all day and helps out the elderly is someone with psychopathic tendencies."
So they do know about the egg... Ash blushed, having been found out. In fact, he brought the egg with him in his bag but willed himself not to touch it.
"That being said, I can't simply throw out his report. I will need to re-assess you to fix the damage; this is a process that could take months with the information stacked up against you." She said earnestly and Ash's shoulders fell—his breath leaving him.
"...months?" he echoed as if he couldn't believe the words himself. "But I..."
"I know, you've been making a very swift recovery—but is there someplace else you needed to be?" she said with a cheer that was meant to be helpful, but only made Ash shudder with sadness.
"My mom..." He grimaced, crossing his arms and leaning forward. "I don't know where she is..." He admitted honestly, the raw emotion of his voice pressing hard against Dr. Abby's heart.
"Oh no... I'm so sorry. That must be extremely difficult." She paused and took her clipboard out. "Would you care to talk about it?"
Ash blinked up at her before a wistful grin tugged at his lips. "Dr. Sebastian never asked that question."
Dr. Abby grinned, pressed a button on a tape-recorder, another thing that was absent from Dr. Sebastian's sessions. She would be recording everything—which would assist in proving Ash wasn't crazy.
"Then I suggest you mention the contrasts in his sessions, and we may be able to get you out of here at the end of the month, after all." She purred sweetly, and Ash's heart swelled with joy.
She changed gears, her face taking on that of pure professionalism, yet the sweet tone coating her words relaxed Ash. She rested the clipboard against her pregnant belly. "So tell me about your mother, do you miss her?"
"More than I think I could say correctly," he confirmed looking downward.
"I see." she scratched down his reply. "Has anyone attempted to reach her?"
"Several times. The hospital and Misty both tried to reach her but we think her phone number was changed..."
"And where did you get that information?"
"That her phone number changed? Well it's not a guarantee but Misty looked online if my mother had a record of-" he stammered, "...death, but since she didn't. We figured she may have simply moved... and hasn't heard that I've woken up."
It's not like she was expecting me to. He echoed Misty's words in his head, remembering the day she talked with him about this. As the days grew longer, he found it harder to believe in her words—but he had to be hopeful the same way that Misty was hopeful. He had to believe that at the very least, his mother was still around.
"Misty Waterflower?" The therapist pursed her lips. "Did you ever feel pressured by her in any way?"
"By Misty?" Ash blinked, "No. Why?" he said, almost defensively.
"Don't worry, I'm not attacking her." She assured Ash, catching onto his defensiveness right away. This allowed his shoulders to fall; amazed in the absolute change of disposition between her and his former therapist. They were night and day if he had no better reference to lean on.
"But can you tell me about her?"
Ash's face flushed only slightly, and he scratched his cheek. "Well, she was the one who carried me out of Viridian City forest and admitted me into the hospital ten years ago." He said matter-of-factly. "She stuck around because a nice, older nurse, I don't remember her name, unfortunately, asked her to witness my recovery to make sure I wasn't being abused by the hospital."
"Do you feel like the reason Dr. Sebastian rated her so harshly was that she was doing exactly that; making sure you weren't being abused?"
A light clicked in Ash's head, and he nodded; "Yeah, actually." he snapped his finger at the realization. "She used to fight with him when I was still in the hospital; he adamantly refused to let her sit in on any sessions even if I asked for her to be there. She also felt that his advice was harming my potential recovery because he would only pressure me to repeat the same stories but would not talk with me about my recovery or what happened to me, or what I'm supposed to do after... He only pressured me to talk about..."
"...Pressured you? What exactly did he pressure you into?"
Ash flushed a little, growing more embarrassed about is dream world the more aware he became about how abnormal they were. He rubbed his neck awkwardly. "He constantly asked for information about the dream I was in when I was comatose... the world he dubbed make-believe. If I didn't want to talk about it, he would scratch on his clipboard whatever, and I would sit silently. He refused to answer any of my questions or beliefs unless I was talking about pokemon."
Dr. Abby blinked at this, her eyebrows knitting together; "That's... really odd. None of that was written in his report."
"Yeah, that's because the stuff he did write down is a lie. You can ask any of the nursing staff I've been around; I'm not psychotic. Not even the slightest." Ash muttered, leaning back on the couch defeated.
Dr. Abby answered with a sincere, sweet smile. "What argument did he make to have you talk about the world? Did he say?"
"He said that it was a process... but he only let me talk about pokemon; the parts that bothered me the most was the fact that the people I traveled with and grew attached to never existed." Ash mused angrily, building confidence as he spoke.
"How do you feel that they don't exist?"
Ash froze at that comment, and shuffled; her perceptive eyes blinked twice and she tilted her head.
"Well... I'm not sure." Ash said and looked at her. "Misty and I looked up my traveling companions, and they, at least people who looked like them and shared their names, were real." He gulped worried that Dr. Abby would think he was crazy, but instead, she appeared dumbfounded and set her clipboard down on her stomach. He worried that she would proclaim, as Dr. Sebastian had, that Misty was enabling his insanity.
Instead, she ripped out a piece of paper from her notebook on the coffee table and handed Ash her clipboard and pen to write on the paper with.
"What's this?" he gawked, eyes wide.
"If you remember those names, write them down." She suggested, and Ash shook his head oddly.
"Why?"
"Because it's worth checking out." She paused, sharing a knowing smile with him that went right over his head. "Misty isn't a doctor, I hope you know, so I have to verify the things you said with my own research." Ash's eyes lit up at her response, gleeful that he was finally catching a break for once—something good was finally happening outside of Misty.
"So, you believe me?"
"I believe that we have seen a lot of strange things in the world, and sometimes, the most radical oddities require a logical resolution to find peace for a patient." She smiled at Ash sweetly. "I hope that I can find that solution for you."
Ash beamed; "Thank you!"
Dr. Abby laughed slightly in response. How cute, he truly did have the innocence of a ten-year-old.
"Don't thank me yet." She cooed. "About your dreams, talking about them is a process-but you need to talk about all of it. Not just parts."
Ash shifted uncomfortably and twisted his lips into a pout. "If it's not real why does it matter?"
"Because it was real to you, dear." She said sweetly, and then revealed a purple and blue journal from beneath a small stack of papers that she handed to Ash.
"Dr. Sebastian was correct in having you talk about your dreams. Talking about them is a way of moving past that trauma; but, if you find talking about them is too difficult now... take the time to write about them in a journal. It will clear your mind hopefully."
Ash's face scrunched up as he thumbed the cover of the journal and then inhaled sharply. "I will give it a try."
"That's the spirit." She encouraged him with an arm pump. "But I think that is all I needed to discuss with you today. I have to, of course, send in a claim to the hospital to oppose Dr. Sebastian's work, and if they approve we will have to move from there—okay?"
Ash nodded.
"Can we meet here again, the same time tomorrow?" She asked. Ash nodded confidently.
"I will be here, I swear," he said with confidence, handing her back the list of names that he had with the descriptions he made of each person so that she could find them the same way that Misty did. Dr. Abby took them with a smile, then stood up and waddled to the door as Ash let himself out.
"...Thank you again." He said turning to look at her one last time before shuffling down the hallway, back towards the dining hall with his knapsack slung over his shoulder.
He wanted to call Misty now; to tell her the good news he finally received after months of constant degrading. How exciting was it to know that his therapist was not a complete ass-hat, but a real functional human being? Instead, he thought wistfully, he would surprise Misty when she returned in a month. He could have danced, if he knew how, or even sang, if he didn't sound so horrible when he did it. He jumped slightly instead as he turned the corner that would bring him to his room with the journal Dr. Abby gave him.
Maybe things were finally looking up for him!