(edited.2020.03.31)
Locked Away, Chapter 11
Ash and Misty stopped briefly at a sandwich shop on the outskirts of Viridian City. Ash complained a little that he did not get to see much of the city, but Misty insisted they go around it; less they be unfortunate enough to spend the rest of the day there. Viridian City was busy, especially during the noon lunch rush; and Misty was not in the mood to fight off crowds, especially with a former coma patient.
During the first part of their walk, they ate their lunch in silence, choosing to walk and eat rather than sit. Other than the moderate scuffle of their shoes pressing against the dirt path leading into route one forest, they were surrounded by the open air and sounds of pokemon. Ash ate everything relatively quickly, having still needed the food for the extra force he exerted on his body, while Misty tucked and wrapped the rest of her sandwich and packed it away into her purse for later. Along with food, they purchased two water bottles that Misty shoved into Ash's bag. Pallet Town was only a two and a half-hour walk from Viridian City, but it was still a walk, and Ash was still out of shape—if only a little.
He wheezed behind her. A lot. The raven-haired boy had not realized yet how much his body did not agree with the natural weather and slope of the land. Ahead of him a few paces, Misty walked with her hands on her hips, as if she were counting her steps; she was perfectly fine during their walk. Which meant it was only Ash who was having a hard time. The wind cut through him and his jacket, sending uncomfortable chills down his entire body. He wrapped his arms around his chest and shuddered, trying to pull warmth from his body. Alongside the motions of going up and down on the winding path and trying to keep up with Misty, his entire body threatened to collapse in on itself. Perhaps lying to his physical therapist about how his walks outside affected him was a poor decision, because now, he nearly collapsed by the time he stopped, and pressed his hands against his knees.
Ash hacked on his own lungs while he tried to force the cold air out of his body. His throat felt like fire, but his everything else felt like ice; what a horrible feeling. Preoccupied with trying to keep up with Misty, he didn't realize just how much his body ached and twisted which each pounding step against the dirt path. Focused on placing one foot in front of the other, he nearly forgot to breathe—and was suffering the repercussions now.
The gym leader stopped when she noticed that he was wheezing behind her. She traced back to check on him and once there, stood at his side. Arm outstretched to smooth the wrinkles over his back; she felt his muscle spasms with each heave.
Her face scrunched up; "Are you okay?"
His best attempt was to raise his fist and nod his head. Up close, Misty saw how clammy his skin was, the beads of cold sweat forming on his brow and how pale his colorful cheeks where. He wheezed again.
"I'm fine." Ash choked, forcing himself to rise. Misty grimaced, he sounded worse than he looked, and so she eyed him skeptically for a moment before fishing for their water bottles in his backpack.
"I thought the physical therapist checked you out?" She grumbled aggravatingly while placing the water into Ash's clenched fingers. He exhaled, smacked his dry lips and sipped the water—though not too quickly. He didn't feel like throwing up all of that food and liquid.
"She did...it's just..." He coughed while shaking his head. "Short bursts..." He added pathetically, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. Misty huffed. He felt like a disappointment.
"Thanks for letting me know," Misty grunted sarcastically, watching him shiver in discomfort. "We should rest for a while."
Ash snapped up, trying to steady his wobbling feet; "No, I'm fine." he assured her, but she very carefully followed his assurance with a swift kick in the knee.
"No, you're not. You're wheezing. Go sit down." She warned him, nearly grabbing him by his collar and dragging him to a tree off the path. Ash did not fight her, instead, he limped, holding his knee while she pointed him to the ground. He did not sit, he fell.
"What was that for?" He grimaced, stroking his sore shin while she plopped into the grass beside him, tucking her knees up to her chest and resting her elbows on them.
"You shouldn't push yourself so hard. You're going to hurt yourself." She scolded him with an evil glare, stunting any complaints he might have had about the situation.
Ash chuckled at the irony as Misty's eyes turned to the forest opposite them thoughtfully. "You don't want me to hurt myself, yet, you hit me?" He grinned, getting an eye-roll in return.
Once again occupied with something other than catching his breath or walking, the harsh gust of wind shrieked through his clothes, and he shuddered. The worst thing about adapting to the new world was adjusting to climate change. He spent on average about two hours outside during his time at the facility, he had no time to adjust to the atmospheric condition and was in turn frozen from the inside because of it. Catching onto this, Misty hummed silently and unwrapped the red scarf she had been returned, and before he could object, draped it around his collar.
"I don't know why you bothered returning that. You're like a human icicle." she crooned.
"I am not." He shuddered in his defense, though he did not have the strength to reject the searing heat that poured forth from the scarf. Ash wrapped it around his lower mouth and chest and grimaced uncomfortably. At some point, he was going to need to pay all of this back to her.
"Thank you." He murmured wistfully, squeezing his eyes closed. He missed the smile that formed on her lips as she crossed her legs and exhaled. Without further complaints, they fell into the song of the forest, gusts of wind whipping above their heads. Ash was totally still beside her, clearly trying to control his breathing while Misty took in their surroundings, and brushed her shoulder against his.
"So... This is where I found you." She said suddenly, taking Ash by surprise.
He looked forward, seeing no resemblance of the forest he could narrate to his past. Instead, he offered her a side glance and rubbed his hands together as she continued.
"It would be a little ironic if you passed out here again. So, when you need a break. Say so. There is nothing wrong with going a bit slower when you're not one hundred percent." She murmured tiredly, and Ash folded his arms around his chest, tucked his hands into his sleeves and crossed his legs.
"I know," he muttered but hunched forward slightly. "But I need to get to Pallet Town."
Misty was not sure how to respond. In respect, she knew the feeling of trying to search for someone that he may never find, but she did not understand why he would push himself so hard. Simply put, she did not understand what he was going through—she hadn't lost ten years of her life. After spending so long waiting to see his family, and then spending forever 'recovering' to a point he could finally take action, Ash could not, would not stop. He had to keep going.
However, no matter how bold his mind was, his body was simply not ready for the task. Ash heaved slightly, letting his shoulders droop as he watched Misty from the corner of his eye.
"How do you know this is the place?" He asked, and Misty shrugged, then raised her finger to point at a tree across from them which had a huge gash in the middle.
"That tree caught on fire. It was the only one that didn't burn up after the explosion." Misty offered with a twist of her head and a soft smile. Ash hadn't even noticed, he turned his gaze to the tree and his face faltered and his eyelids lifted.
The trees around Route one were as lush this time of year as they ever would be. Early fall always turned the leaves yellow but out here; the colors in the rainbow were multiplied. Gorgeous reds met in the center with howling yellows, encrusted together with feathers of bright orange and peach. Greens stung the most promising pictures, delicate flowers had long since passed, leaving room for the yellow weed creations and forcing grass pokemon into hibernation. Winter was coming and would be here soon.
Misty followed his gaze and tilted her head. Route one, no matter what the conditions were, remained untouched. Storms were like brief periods where time stood still. It pleased all four seasons, elegantly dodged all severe weather storms, and carefully created a world of its own. That was the primary reason Viridian City never branched out towards Pallet Town. Route one in of itself was a tourist escape, everyone wanted to be here. Legend said when a person least expected it, they would see rainbows in the sky as far as the eye could see; granting everlasting happiness.
"I remember..." Ash muttered suddenly, looking up at the clear sky. Misty pursed her lips and blinked.
"Remember what?" she inquired.
His eyebrows knit together, trying to frame the memory but could not. He laughed earnestly, backing out of his comment. He'd been doing that a lot lately, especially when it pertained to making comments about his dreams.
"I don't know." He rubbed his scalp beneath his hat, but felt a bit warmer than he had at the start—maybe it was the scarf he was given that blocked the wind from reaching his chest—or maybe it was something else. Something about sitting here, outside. Seeing where this started made him burn with a new passion new... Abrupt worry flashed over his eyes and he jumped to his feet, staggering slightly.
"I forgot my journal at the home." He said timidly, facing the direction of Viridian City; which was already a good thirty minutes away. Misty followed him to his feet and lowered her eyebrows.
"...Does it matter?" She asked abrasively though Ash could not argue a valid reason for the journal to suddenly be important—or why he remembered it so.
His shoulders fell, and then rose. "...No, actually." offering her a sad, accepting look. She smiled at him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder in a quick, sloppy side hug that pressed new chills down his back. He didn't need it; he knew that. He needed to move on from the empty pages of hollow dreams...but something tugged at him.
"You'll be okay Ash. Just take one step at a time." She assured him and then pointed to the direction of Pallet town. "Preferably in that direction, because I'm sort of hoping to take the train home and the station closes at 10:00 pm there." She added with a snarky smirk.
Ash could not help but roll his eyes, but then quickly replaced his tantrum with a grin. "It's not going to take ten hours to get there, Misty."
"With the rate you're going, it just might." She gestured to his sluggish movements as he pouted his lips and glared at her.
"This is why I don't want to tell you when I'm tired." he puffed his cheeks. "You make fun of me." He argued earning a hysterical laugh from Misty who grabbed her stomach in glee. Ash found himself chuckling as well.
"I just might have to leave you at some point—but you can make camp on your own, can't you?" She joked, nudging him in the upper arm, his pout returned full force.
"Probably not." he gestured with his hands as if saying: 'I technically have no real-life experience with anything', following his statement with: "The wolves would eat me."
With that, they both chuckled to one another, tossing empty insults at one another to pass the time; as well as following up with Misty's rather intense lecture on how he better pay her back—or else.
XOX
Dr. Abby twisted in her seat, pressing her well-manicured fingers against her belly and sighing compulsively. She hadn't taken on any more patients since Ash left, and didn't plan to. She would be on maternity leave in less than two weeks, and would just have to pass her time until then.
A light knock came to the door; without being heard, she knew who was there.
"Come in, Mary." Dr. Abby called to the nurse, and needless to say, yellow hair poked into the vibrantly colored room.
"I found the journal. I didn't even need to steal it. He left it." Mary grimaced, handing Dr. Abby the journal. "I don't know why you needed it though." The yellow-haired woman tossed, getting a sad smile in response.
"It's just for follow up in case anything ever happens. Don't worry about it." Dr. Abby waved her hand to send Mary off but then paused short, "Thank you, by the way."
"No problem! Just remember you owe me a picture with the Cerulean City Gym Leader!" Mary sang before excusing herself from the therapist's office.
Left to herself, Dr. Abby brushed her fingers over the creases of the book and then flipped it open to scan the haphazard hand-writing that was Ash Ketchum. Where his words started off short, messy, and almost illegible, they grew into exaggerated, long journal entries. Talking often about how he missed his mom and pikachu, and wondering why his chest hurt so much when he thought about Misty. Written through all the pages mixed with confessions of his dreams—how he had reoccurring nightmares he never told anyone; ones where he never wakes up and sits in a black abyss, titled with ones about his world. How he was upset sometimes that the people he knew weren't real and 'didn't remember him'. Frequently, he mentioned inside jokes he shared with Misty that were no longer relevant and then wrote about how technically they were just inside jokes with himself. Amongst writing about his feelings and overall struggles with recovery; he wrote in great detail about the people he knew and met, written with information that no normal person should have known about pokemon and about legendary pokemon. Legendary pokemon were mentioned seldom but when they were; they were written with great class, listing names; and locations.
...Doing Ash a favor, Dr. Abby tore out a few pages about his traveling companions and any connections that they had with unknown pokemon and legendary pokemon; as well as any page that indicated Misty what so ever. The gym leader was already on their bad side, and Dr. Abby would hate to ever see something happen to the young woman.
After securing the torn pages, she spun to drop them into her shredder before picking up her cellphone from her back pocket. Dialing a horribly familiar number, she placed the phone up to her ear to listen to the ring echo back at her.
"Did you receive the package?" The voice echoed from the other side. Dr. Abby smacked her lips.
"Yes, I have the journal." She muttered; flipping through its pages once more. "It has all the information that you wanted."
"You sound disappointed, Abigail, should I be worried?"
"No." She said quickly, glancing at the pictures of her family hanging above the window on her shelf, she choked and stumbled on her words for a second. "It's all taken care of. I'll drop the journal off tonight."
"Good girl. Did he suspect anything?"
"No, sir." She responded quickly, tugging on the hems of her shirt.
"Good. Then I'll see you tonight."
"See you, Sebastian," Abigail muttered before clicking the phone call off. She exhaled once again and glared down at the purple bound journal and ran her fingers through her teal hair one last time before standing, and preparing her leave.
XOX
"Well, at least now we know that route one can take five and a half hours to travel if you stop every thirty minutes." Misty whistled while putting her hand over her eyes to block the view of the fading sun in the distance. Ash grimaced in response, having drunk all of his water, and most of Misty's. She was enjoying this too much, poking fun at his misfortune—it was almost like having his Misty back. Guess whatever she told him in his sleep created a spot-on replica of her real-life personality; aside from the pretty, girl-like features. Ash smacked his face at the thought and she crossed her arms, standing at the hill facing southern Pallet Town.
She looked back at him, as he had not yet been aware of the transition of forest into town as he clung to the shade of the trees. His entire body felt like it would collapse on itself; physical therapy did not prepare him for this incline. At this point in his life, wheezing, he was sure he hated hills. They were evil reincarnations of hell. On several occasions Misty offered him a helping hand, but he refused it every time. He had to do this on his own.
As he stood up, back straightening while he gleamed at the city, a wave of nostalgia and angst washed over his features—and he was petrified. The houses were all different shades than he remembered, the leaves were all falling to the winter season and the entire town had grown at least by a few thousand, as the edge of the town could no longer be seen from the hilltop where he stood. Maybe they finally perfected the harbor? Built that radio tower? He wasn't sure, but he saw the stream that ran through the center of town, and his breath hitched at the back of his throat.
He was homesick. So damn homesick his entire time at the facility, but now that he was facing it; the intense smell of farms and grassland froze him. He had not been home in ten years. Was this really even his home now? Technically, he spent more time in Viridian City now than he had his home town.
"Do you remember which one is your house?" Misty asked, standing beside him as she glanced over the fullness of the city—spotting dominantly the pokemon laboratory at the top of the hill on the southeast part of town; an odd, lumbering facility that seemed so foreign in the smaller town of Pallet.
"Yes." Ash choked, in disbelief that he was really standing here. Finally.
He could go home.
"Well, why don't you rest for a minute and then we'll-" He exploded into a full sprint down the hill, interrupting and catching Misty by surprise as she kicked her own feet out to follow him instinctively.
"Ash, don't run!" She shouted after him.
In a sprint like this, their height became a dominant player; his legs were longer than hers, thus his strides were bolder, his motions smoother. For every step Misty took, he two took. However, stamina wise, Misty had him beat by leaps and bounds. His recovery speed was phenomenal, however, skipping time to process what was around him, and breaking into a full run. She just didn't understand this guy!
Truthfully, Ash wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. He was acting before thinking, something that he most definitely needed, otherwise, he might not have been able to move. At the mention of his house, he had to keep going. He grew up there with the white, slightly pink tint siding of the house with a bold red roof and a white picket fence. His heart nearly bound out of his chest. He was so close he could feel it. The ache in his shoulders, the twists in his knees—nothing could stop him now.
Ash swung around the corner onto the dirt road to his house, one that faced the forest on one side, with a beautiful open country meadow surrounding the house. He paused only briefly, allotting Misty just enough time to call after him before he broke out into another sprint. In the distance, he saw the house, no longer lumbering at the end of the street on its own. Two more houses perched beside it, and the large meadow was more of a neighborhood, but his house was untouched. The same.
He passed a single field on his way down the hill, took in the familiar scent of wildflowers and was a kid again. For a moment, he was running home from Professor Oak's lab with a jump in his step and a whistle in his heart.
The excitement faded quickly, however, as his plethora of mixed emotions fell into a catatonic state that could only be classified as beaming horror. He lurched to a sudden stop, his feet grinding into the dirt as he nearly plummeted into the ground before his house.
Everything was the same: the garden, the apple tree, the shrubs; even the color was the same. What was not, however, was the name painted on the mailbox.
"Ketchum" was missing.
At the time he realized this, Misty finally caught up by breaking harshly as she approached him. She reached forward, prepared to scold him until she saw the look of devastation written across his face. Her gaze moved nonchalantly to follow his, and she looked up at the house which had probably been Ash's entire world growing up; and grimaced.
Not knowing any better, she raised her finger. "Is that your dad?" She asked, pointing to an older man with brown hair who they could see from outside the kitchen window.
Swallowing down a lump, limbs numb, Ash shook his head timidly and lowered his gaze. Misty glanced from his sad disposition, where he seemed to fade into the background and looked up once again at the house.
Carefully, she clicked the gate open.
"What are you doing?" He snapped, but Misty pressed forward.
"We came all the way here; we're going to knock." She growled gently, maneuvering over the steps to arrive at the front door. Sparing a short glance at Ash, who hadn't moved from his scowling position at the end of the walk, Misty looked forward. She would do this on her own, if she had to.
She knocked.
At first, no reply came, and so she knocked again; knowing that someone was living there because they saw him only seconds ago. Misty was about to knock again, raising her fist impatiently to the door when it swung open with a click. Standing before her was a burly man with brown hair, cradling a young girl in his right arm, and had another, an older boy, hiding behind his right leg.
"Hello, what can I do for you?" he asked, his calm voice a surprise for his otherwise burly appearance. Misty gulped, stammered, even.
"Ah, well... Uhm." She started, but remembering that Ash was standing behind her, riding on this, she shook her confusion and fear away. She gestured to Ash. "He used to live here. I was wondering if you could let him look around..." She asked, clearing her throat. The man, who had a golden band around his left finger so Misty could only assume he was married quirked his eyebrows.
"And why doesn't he ask himself?"
"He's a little shell-shocked. He was expecting his mother to be here." Misty admit honestly, though she could hear Ash exhale from behind her.
"His mother?" The married man grinned, "Delia's boy?"
From behind Misty, Ash looked forward, his chocolate eyes twinkling gently at the mention of his mother; the look, however, did not last.
"Yes, is she here?" Misty questioned eagerly.
"I thought he was dead?" The man followed up with, "Delia moved years ago."
Ash felt his soul leave his body. He hunched forward slightly but kept his feet firmly planted on the ground and his chest tightened up. Misty's jaw cocked.
"No. He was comatose." Misty corrected, albeit harshly.
The married man didn't seem to believe her. "But the news here said she pulled the plug."
So the news had gotten back to Pallet Town. Ash thought, running his shaking hand over his face. Misty inhaled, standing firm in spite of herself.
"He woke up. His name is Ash Ketchum. He won't bother you for long he just-"
"No...it's fine, Misty." Ash muttered from behind, looking down just far enough to have his eyes become hidden by the shade of his hat. In the fading light of the sun, Misty saw the cracks in his aged demeanor, but it didn't last long; because unable to handle the truth of the moment, he fled. Fast.
"Ash, wait!" Misty called, but he was already gone down the road.
"I'm really so-" but as per usual, Misty didn't give the man time to finish his comment before she bound after Ash ripping through the white fence, pumping blood into her legs to propel herself forward.
Ash's heart pounded in his head, his flesh burned like someone had thrown a torch on him and his entire body thrived in agony. Ash's entire world was spinning out of control by the time he came to a roaring, stumble of a stop where he slid down a damn hill. He slid out of control and landed right near the river bank where he spent most of his childhood days. Now, not only was he cold, he was covered in mud and the dampness clung to his clothes. Discombobulated, he sat up to watch the crystal-clear stream flow around rocks and plants, his heart shattered. Slipping his backpack off his shoulders, he fell to his knees and pressed his palms into the soil.
For the second time since he woke up—he wished that he had not.
"Ash!?" He heard Misty call for him from the road, but it was doubtful she would find him here, especially now that the sun was setting. Part of him didn't want her to. It would be dark soon, and not only would he be cold, and wet; he would be isolated and in the dark. Like the rest of his life, only he would be facing the truth of it. This had to be a nightmare, every time he picked himself up, he got kicked down harder; first with his adventures, then with his life, now with his mother. She was supposed to be here!
Ash pinched his arm finally, subjecting himself to a short bout of pain as salty tears formed in the corners of his eye. This had to be a dream. A terrible, horrible dream. For months since he woke up, he accepted one footfall after another, pushing himself forward one step at a time. He moved forward. Ash was a fighter, he never gave up—but what was left of his world?
Nothing he remembered. He pinched himself again, breaking into a full sob as he tugged on his backpack, the latch falling open and the contents spilling out. Swiping at his tears, he fell over on his back, not minding the swish of the mud beneath his jacket, or even the uncomfortable, stinging pressure of the sharp rock that prodded his lower back. The pain was a good indicator, a good reminder: he wasn't dreaming.
Obviously, he was in hell. Somewhere along the way, he pissed someone off really well and this was his punishment. That had to be the only reason that he would go through this. His brown eyes traced the top of the forest as his salty tears crashed against his skin.
Misty called to him once more; "Ash...?" She stammered following the sound of his sobbing. Having slipped behind one of the shrubberies where if he looked he could have seen her, but he was occupied with the yellows and oranges of the damning sky. He laid sprawled out on the ground, his hands meshed beside his head in a fitful orientation. Misty moved towards him slowly, thinking twice to get near him in case he truly did snap, and instead, she found her way to the bag that had fallen and scooped up the egg that laid forgotten.
"Ash?" She called to him again, cradling the warm egg and building confidence to stand beside him with each step. Until finally, she squatted beside him, and brushed her hand gently against his shoulder, indicating her presence, and finally garnered his attention.
Blankly, he looked up at her. For the first time in months his raw, detrimental emotion casting over every bone in his body. Where was he supposed to start? He had been in a coma for ten years, he lost his best friends, his entire life was made up—he neglected his family, his friends his journey, his life; in favor of imagination land that had no semblance of reality except for what he pulled into it. On top of that, he worried every day that he would mess up, that he would slip up and fall back into a coma. It was unheard of, but so were capable, fully functional adults after ten years of being in a coma. Already, Ash was more than an oddity, he was a legend in his own right.
His face screwed up as he looked at her patient, sea-green eyes. Ash lost yen years of his life he would never get back, and now, his pokemon and his mother was gone from the house he grew up in—and instead, some stranger lived there who believed Ash was dead. Maybe he was dead? Maybe this was some kind of purgatory and he was stuck in the midst of hell. Tears still pouring from his eyes, his mouth moved without his permission.
"This is hell." Was all he managed before turning his gaze up at the dying light.
His comment struck a chord in Misty, and she sucked in her lips feeling her own tears swell. This wasn't how today was supposed to be. For once, Ash was supposed to find his mom, find anything; and yet, here they were. Right back where he started.
"Sure, it's hard now, Ash...but..." She tried, but it fell on deaf ears. Ash did not want to be told how it was going to 'get better' because 'it always did'. No, he wanted to stare up at the sky, and wallow in his misery for a while. Forever; though, he could not tell Misty this. Not after everything she did for him.
Actually, Ash was surprised when her hand found perch in his own and squeezed his fingers tightly. It almost brought his eyes back to hers, but he couldn't face her at the moment while she brushed her thumb along his comfortingly. The way her sisters did for her when their parents left so many years ago.
Nevertheless, Misty did not have the heart to tell Ash that it was going to be okay because she did not know that it would be. She didn't know what to say, so instead, she offered her condolences with physical touch. If she had any inkling that Delia would not be here anymore when they arrived, she wouldn't have been bothered to get his hopes up. And boy, Misty felt like shit over it. This ordeal seemed like the end of a bad adventure. Delia should have been here to enjoy the fact that her son was now finally awake for the first time in years, and yet she was gone. Moved away somewhere. Poof. This feeling reflected in Ash's eyes without him having to say it.
"This isn't hell, Ash." Misty tried to reassure him, but he did not hear her. He shook his head viciously.
"How can you say that?" He suddenly rocketed forward, sitting up and almost knocking her backward. She landed firm on her knees, kneeling beside him as his face whipped around. As if it would help, she squeezed his hand harder.
"I've been trying for months, Misty. That's all I've been doing; but... damn it. I woke up from an adventure where it's fun and lighthearted and everyone was happy to this! This is a nightmare. First I lost my best friends, and now my mom, not to mention ten years. I don't even know where my pokemon are, or if they were real!" His tone was not one of anger as she thought it was at first. No, as he leaned his forehead against the palm of his hand, she saw the bewildering sadness. His voice shook, borderline timid like he would scream if his vocal cords would let him. Misty squeezed his hand in response, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Ash, I'm sorry...it's just... sometimes the world is a bad place, and a scary one; but that's what makes it life. You couldn't live in a dream world for the rest of your life, Ash. That's not living. It's playing make-believe." Misty tried to offer her support logically, but he was too far away to hear.
"I just can't believe this... I'm just... done." He muttered with a shake of his head, slipping his hands away from hers to hold his stomach and lean forward, bringing his knees up to his face. His hat popped up off his hair slightly, and having heard his explanation she bit her lip and then growled.
Thump
"Ow!" He winced in pain when Misty's fist made absolute contact with his shoulder. His eyes glared at her, full of terror and confusion. "What in the world was that for?!"
Her face turned into one of fury, her eyes were watery. This version of her twisted his heart.
"We've already played this game, Ash. You know it's going to be hard from here. I can't pity you if you just give up, especially not after how hard you've worked! So what there are a few bumps in the road and it's hard and miserable and nothing is like it was! But that's life!" She threw up her arms for emphasis, gesturing to the great world above them. Her voice causing pidgeys to escape their perch on branches. "It sucks right now but eventually it will get better!"
Ash snapped back at her. "You don't understand! I've been essentially dead for ten years and you expect me to be all accepting and ready to face the world in under two months?!"
"Yes!" Misty shouted. "According to what you've said about yourself, you can get past this!" She yelled quickly, this turn of words surprised him.
"You're alive, doesn't that count for anything? So you're alone, you'll manage, that's what people do. No, no. That's what you do." She whined, shedding a tear for only a second before she wiped it away avoiding his gaze.
"It's not fair..." Ash grimaced, shoulders falling. Misty shook her head and grabbed his shoulder firmly.
"Sometimes life isn't fair, but I believe that everything happens for a reason—you're strong enough to get through this." She encouraged him, gripping his shoulder to comfort him. He shuddered, dropping his head.
"I..." He started painfully, and she saw the tears start at the corner of his eyes. "I'm not ready for this, Mist..."
Before he fell into another relapse, Misty hugged him. Not the most sentimental person herself, it was a bit rough around the edges but she was warm, and there. Ash brought his arms around her back and squeezed her. She'd never hugged him in their dreams, in fact, he couldn't recall a time when he was hugged. Was it because this moment of warmth was indescribable? Unreplicable? They sat in an awkward position, so the egg pressed against Ash's beating heart as she pulled his face into the crook of her neck and rubbed the back of his neck. Shortly after, his tears soaked the collar of her shirt and she breathed onto his head comfortingly.
"It'll be alright." She cooed motherly. Unlike their normal two-second embraces, where Ash would bounce, unsure of what to do with himself, his hands clawed at her back; wrapping the fabrics of her coat into balls. Once again, his age, his stunted mentality played so importantly in her mind. As a twenty-year-old, he should have long outgrown bursts of tears—but who he was right now. This was just the tip of the iceberg.
So, she let him cry. His sobs filled the silent forest once the sun died behind the horizon, the gentle shudder of his body slowing with each passing pidgey. Misty's hand even grew tired stroking the damp fabric on his back, but she didn't budge. He needed this, and so if she could do nothing else for the boy; she would do this.
Nearly thirty minutes had passed when Ash finally found the courage to release the folds of her jacket and shift backward, sniffling enough to throw a wrench into Misty's heart. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, but he looked better. His eyes didn't look as dead as they had previously. She nudged him gently, and slipped the egg into his hands before tossing off her purse.
"I have a handkerchief in my bag, just give me one..." the moment the egg was placed into Ash's lap, a strange heat radiated from the surface of the shell. The sad trainer startled by the sudden change felt the intense vibrations as he blinked down, gazing upon the egg with otherwise great surprise as it changed shape.
"It's hatching!" Misty gasped, dropping her bag into the dirt below and leaning forward beside Ash to watch with eager eyes the transformation of the egg as a short light abbreviated from its cracks. Looking away they both covered their eyes, Ash with his hat and Misty with her hands, as the small pokemon cracked forth.
Seconds later, a slight squeal echoed through the forest, a painfully familiar, yet pleasant sound as Ash spun his head around to glare at the small pokemon which remained relatively the same size as it had been as an egg. Misty's eyes grew wide, and her head tilted.
"What kind of weird pokemon is that?" Misty fumbled through her bag, but a slight edge in Ash's eyes formed, and he grinned happily—knowingly. Before she could reach to find the answer herself—Ash knew what it was without a second glance—and so he grinned down through swollen eyes at the small egg-shaped pokemon.
"It's a togepi."
Author's Note: