AN: Here's the next installment, this time from Jessie's perspective. Enjoy.

Fated

Summary: Jessie finds herself in exile, forced into captivity with a mysterious stranger. With nowhere to go and seemingly no hope of escape, they share the stories behind their miserable fates. Hers is filled with questions. His is filled with answers.

Chapter 4: Stupid James

I hope my smile can distract you
I hope my fists can fight for two
So it never has to show
And you'll never know

One may think we're alright
But we need pills to sleep at night
We need lies to make it through the day
We're not ok

But that's one thing I would never,
One thing I would never
That's one thing
I would never say to you
...The Persishers - Pills

Jessie crossed her arms and looked at Jack, who was smirking at her. She scowled and thought about where she should start with this story. Then she remembered what her fears of the boss had manifested into and what they had driven her to do...even before that meeting at headquarters.

Not that she'd ever admit to Jack that she had been scared or anything.

"In addition to being CONCERNED, I was also sleep-deprived," Jessie continued in a low growl as Jack hid a snicker, "If you remember, after that meeting at headquarters, I began having nightmares…

The nightmares not only continued, but they got worse. It was always the same one, but with more detail. First, there would be a woman that I couldn't recognize. I thought she was me, but there was something off about her, something about the way she moved. She was in a dark room, her back towards me. Over her shoulder, I could see the boss sitting there, smirking that cold, cruel smirk as a dead look overtook his eyes. The woman wouldn't move, even as he raised a gun. The only movement she made was a turn of her head so she could look back at me. Then there would be a shot and she'd fall, her blood spilling out onto the floor. I'd cry out and rush to her, only to find that her body had changed.

Instead of staring down into the unknown woman's face, I was staring down at sightless green eyes as blood dripped from the bullet hole on his forehead and down into his blue hair.

I was holding the body of my best friend in my arms. That's the point where I woke up shaking, screaming, and crying.

One thing about me, I don't cry. I've been alone all my life, since before I can remember. My parents died when I was a baby or something, so I spent my childhood as an orphan, being shuffled from foster home to foster home. I learned at an early age that life was cruel and that unless you were strong, you wouldn't make it. I learned to survive and surviving did not entail crying. I hated showing weakness. So when I was jolted awake by the same horrifying nightmare one night, I was mortified to realize that there were tears streaming down my face.

"Shit," I muttered, wrenching from my sleeping bag, grabbing a half-drunk bottle of vodka from my bag. Then I took off into the forest, away from James and Meowth. It's what I usually did when I was upset. There was a lot of bad shit in my life. Sometimes I wouldn't be able to sleep and I'd think of all those bad things. So I would go into the nearest city or town and find a way to help me get my mind off of all those bad things. Usually, it would involve drinking. Alcohol just had a way of making me forget everything. Sometimes I'd come back to camp sober or near-sober. Other times, I'd return totally smashed, stumbling and out of touch. Either way, I'd done enough to distract myself.

The half-drunk bottle of vodka was a product of one of those nights I returned to camp stumbling. I had stashed it in my bag, knowing that another tormented night was inevitable. The dreams were ten times worse than anything I had ever experienced. Every time I held James's lifeless body in my arms, it felt as though I was being ripped apart. I couldn't believe how affected I was by this dream.

I made it to my destination, a large tree a little ways away from camp. I slumped against it and slid down the tree to the forest floor, uncapping the vodka bottle as I slid. I took a drink, my eyes staring blankly ahead.

All I could see was the blood seeping out of the wound on the forehead and the green eyes that would never see again. My stomach churned at the very thought of my friend dying that way. It churned worse when I realized that that could very well be a possibility, that Giovanni could kill James the way he did in my dream. I felt an ache in my chest and tears leaking from my eyes. I took another drink.

"Jessie?" I heard his voice question. I took another drink and hurriedly wiped my eyes. I heard his footsteps right next to me. I took another drink. Then I felt him sit down beside me.

"Drinking?" James asked. I looked at him from the corner of my eye. I saw those big, concerned green eyes. I shrugged and offered him the bottle. He considered it for a moment before he took it and took a swig. I smirked as he cringed at the alcohol taste. I should have known that innocent little Jimmy would cringe.

"Hard stuff," he commented.

"Only way to party," I replied, taking the bottle back, still refusing to look at him.

"Except you're partying alone," James pointed out. I took a breath and steeled myself.

"You're here," I told him, finally trusting myself to look at him.

"I am," he agreed, "And…no matter what, I always will be," he said hesitantly. I raised an eyebrow, trying to beat back the voice in my head reminding me of the dream where he wasn't.

"James…" I didn't know what to say to him.

"What's wrong, Jess?" he asked, taking a breath.

"Nothing," I answered immediately. I couldn't tell him. I just couldn't let him know that I was weak. I had to be strong for all of us. Without me, James and Meowth wouldn't be able to survive. James was just too dopey and Meowth couldn't keep his mouth shut. I kept them motivated, on task, knowing that it was the only way for the three of us to survive Team Rocket.

"You haven't been sleeping well," he pointed out, "You drink alone in the dead of the night. There's something wrong."

"Don't, James," I warned. He was getting into dangerous territory. I never let him see me like this, so close to the breaking point. At least this was the first time he ever caught me like this.

"I've noticed for a while," he admitted, dashing my hopes of him not realizing that I had these nights of weakness, "You leave the camp and go and sometimes when you come back, you're not quite right."

"What, are you stalking me or something?" I snapped, scowling as I took another drink.

"I'm your friend, Jess. You can talk to me," he said.

"Go away, James," I muttered.

"I'm not going anywhere," he told me, firmly, which was a switch for him. He never questioned anything I told him to do. For a moment, I contemplated smacking him over the head the way I did when we were working together during the day.

"James, GO AWAY!" I growled at him.

"Please?" he was begging now, "I've been worried for so long and I can't just sit and watch you do this to yourself. Not anymore. I want to help. I care about you, Jessie."

I looked over at him, ready to tell him to go away again, but then I saw such sincerity in his eyes. I started to shake my head when I felt the pricks of tears in my eyes. He saw my face contort and he was right there, putting his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. Why he did it, I don't know. He never held me like that, cradled to him, before. But it felt nice. It felt safe, like there was nothing that could hurt either of us. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt happy and taken care of. Stupid James.

"You're here," I said, muffled against his chest.

"I am," he confirmed, stroking my hair, "Like always."

I pulled away and looked up at him, "Stubborn idiot," I muttered, "Don't ever change, James," I told him. He smiled at me and pulled me to my feet.

"Let's get you back to camp," he suggested pulling me to my feet. He lingered like he expected me to stumble. I shook my head as I started back.

"I'm not even a little bit buzzed," I told him. I could almost feel his perplexed gaze moving from me to the vodka bottle.

"Well, your friend is right. It doesn't do well to drink alone," Jack said. Jessie rolled her eyes.

"Really? I dunno, Jack. I kind of enjoyed the hangovers…especially with Meowth around," she quipped sarcastically. Jack shook his head.

"So the nightmares were that bad?" he asked, resting his hands on his knees.

"How would you feel if every time you closed your eyes, you saw your best friend dying?" she asked. He considered this.

"Awful. Horrible," he replied, and upon seeing the way her downcast eyes glumly examined the floor, he added, "I can relate."

"Really?" she said doubtfully. He nodded.

"Yeah…except…I've sort of lived that nightmare," he told her. She looked up at him.

"Lived it?" she asked.

"I've lost a lot of people and some of them have died," he said softly.

"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically, "That makes my nightmare pretty pale in comparison."

"Still, it's horrifying either way," he mused, "When you love someone, it hurts so much to even just imagine some harm befalling them."

Jessie blinked for a moment and looked up at him, taking in what she had said. He smiled at her.

"And I have a feeling that you loved this James very much," he said, causing her to turn scarlet.

TBC

AN: So this is Jessie's side of things. I know it's kind of short, but it kind of sets the tone on Jessie's side of things. She's trying so hard to hold it together and be strong, but it's tough for her. I began writing this chapter a long time ago and when I began writing it, I actually wrote and published another story on called "Searching For Prince Charming" that deals with the backstory explaining Jessie's behaviour in this chapter. You don't have to read it to understand this story, but if you want to read it, just check out my profile.

In addition to this story, I've decided to start posting a sort of playlist of songs that I've been listening to while writing this fic. I personally find it fascinating when authors reveal the song inspirations for their stories. That and I'm a bit of collector of music so every little bit helps lol.

For this chapter: "Pills" by The Perishers fit quite well here."Beautiful Disaster" by John McLaughlin also pretty much fits Jessie to a T, I swear.

Anyhow, let me know what you think :)