Happy Summer, dear readers! Crazy to think that Halloween will be here before you know it! And chances are this story will still be carrying on…
Disclaimer: I still don't own Pokémon or The Blair Witch Project. Ash is no doubt pleased about the first, because…well, even though he still would have achieved all that he has, there would have been a lot more bumps and bruises and ego-checks along the way with me at the helm. But double the amount of Pallet Town episodes! Everyone loves those, right? Even Ash? Even if he does have to make sure his room is clean before he throws a single Pokéball? :)
Many thanks for all the reviews, hits, favorites, and alerts received in the past month! I appreciate the support so much; it really keeps me chugging along in-between all the other dozens of projects and activities I pile onto my plate. Things are going to get a little tense from this point onwards, but what fun would it be if they didn't? ;)
Last we left Ash, I believe he was taking a lovely, tranquil stroll around the beautiful hamlet of Pallet?
SOON BEGINS BEWITCHING
by Spruceton Spook
Chapter 6
"Toil and Trouble"
Ash was starting to fully grasp just how cold and miserable it really was.
The shock of the frigid water oozing through the permeable suede of his slippers had him unconsciously prancing across the pasture on the tips of his numb toes. The ground, saturated from the morning's deluge, yielded at his every step, making his jog even more grueling. He could feel his pajama bottoms becoming increasingly soaked, flapping against his legs, threatening to trip him up if his shoes didn't do it first. The unremitting rain pelted him ruthlessly in the face, preventing him from keeping his eyes forward as he tried to scan the endless spread of Professor Oak's property for a promising glimmer of yellow amidst the grey of the dying grasses and the haze that blanketed it.
"Pikachu!" he cried, his voice not carrying as far as it seemed to have had moments ago. He panted heavily, his throat stinging from the shouts and chill he was not yet accustomed to this season. "Pikachu, are you out here?"
As he dared to steal a glance ahead, his foot sank into a soggy patch of mud and nearly jerked Ash to the ground. He was able to wrench himself free before losing his balance completely, but not without the bog claiming his slipper first. Ash grimaced as his bare foot made contact with the sludgy ground, and spewing out a foul word he usually kept politely reserved to his thoughts, he hobbled to the mud to recover it.
"Oh man," he whimpered as he pulled the shoe from the viscous tract of earth. What was once a warm, beige moccasin was now unrecognizable—a lifeless, sodden slab of material, thoroughly ruined. They'd been brand-new and Ash knew his mother was sure to have a throe over it, but at the moment he could hardly give a damn about something so trivial as a pair of expendable shoes. The only thing he could curse was his own idiocy in choosing such inappropriate footwear for the situation. His toes felt virtually petrified. As he stumbled to pull the useless shoe back onto his foot, he promptly returned to surveying the vicinity.
All around him, a few dozen pairs of eyes were cast curiously in his direction. His boisterous calls had caught the attention of the pokémon dwelling on the professor's acreage, and now they were watching him, this new trespasser a bit more intriguing than grazing and roving. Undaunted, Ash's eyes swiftly roamed and inspected the menagerie before him. Pokémon that could withstand the conditions hadn't been retrieved—ponyta, meganium, venasaur, mareep, among others—but Pikachu was not among them. Of course he wasn't.
"Pikachu!" he yelled again nonetheless. "Come 'ere, Pikachu! C'mon, buddy! Where are you?"
It was so quiet. If Pikachu were in that field, he would have heard him. Ash knew this. As he paused in the mocking stillness, save for a few muffled calls of the pokémon and the rhythm of the rain against the ground, it became clear that his plea was going unheeded. Not knowing what else to do, Ash let his arms fall to his side, defeated, the sleeves of the raincoat swallowing his hands whole and then some.
Oh my God, Pikachu…where are you?
He didn't have time to remotely consider his next move before the calm was abruptly penetrated with a loud bellow, and the land began to tremor. Indeed, there was one pokémon who heard its trainer and responded, though it was probably the last one Ash had wished it would be.
"Oh, nooo," he groaned, turning to face the source of the disturbance.
About a half-mile away, his ever-present herd of tauros was barreling toward him, led by his most friendly and valuable charge. In the past, the bulls couldn't have cared less for Ash, content on behaving as wild as Professor Oak's spacious land permitted them, but since developing a relationship with his active battle tauros, suddenly having one friend turned into thirty. For a split second, a surge of fear gripped him as it always did when the large, untamed creatures came rushing to engage him. But just as swiftly is that sensation came, it went, replaced instead by a sinking indifference that surprised him. Exhausted from his worry and his laborious outing, Ash just stood his ground and entrusted the tauros not to run him over in the height of their excitement.
With the way this morning had gone, wouldn't that have been the kicker.
Yet when Tauros, faster and more dominant than the rest (Ash and Professor Oak were no fools when it came to choosing for competition), galloped closer, tossing his head with liveliness and kicking up clumps of mud high into the air, Ash began to lose his nerve. He backed up somewhat and held his hands out—not that that would have protected him from a breakneck, half -ton beast, but it was all he could instinctively do with the adrenaline coursing through him.
Luckily, the pokémon that served him so well in the Orange League had no intentions of trampling his master. A hundred yards from Ash, Tauros decelerated, easing inelegantly but controllably into a trot so that when he reached the boy's outstretched hands, all that knocked into Ash was a dank, probing muzzle. There was still enough momentum, though, to force Ash back a foot.
"Hey, Tauros, hey," he greeted. The stench of wet fur overpowered the existing smell of ozone and dead leaves as the remainder of the herd slowed and split off around him. Some approached Ash briefly before going back to the grass after realizing he bore no treats. His friend, however, remained facing him, pleased his trainer was there, and Ash returned the cordiality by trailing his fingers along the bull's solid forehead. His anxiety was still intense, but for the moment, Ash felt slightly better, comforted by Tauros' company. Something about the imposing creatures bordering him allowed him to feel sheltered and reassured, their untroubled nature fueling a false sense of normality.
Well, normality that entailed Ash situated in the middle of Professor Oak's pasture in the pouring rain and glacial temperatures, clad in pajamas, slippers and his father's tremendous raincoat, standing in what he hoped and prayed was just mud.
Pokémon were too highly perceptible sometimes, and Ash knew Tauros could sense his unrest. The bull grunted in concern and lifted his face to Ash's, condensation bursting from his nostrils into the dense air. As Ash stroked the warm and sticky nose, he gazed at the massive pokémon and couldn't help but take note of his physical durability. This weather didn't phase tauros in the least. Their bodies were plastered in mud and grass as a result of playful rolls, and their great, hoofed feet had no problem traversing the deep puddles. If it were Tauros and not Pikachu who had gotten loose and took off, Ash wouldn't have worried as seriously. As it was, tauros were just more resilient creatures.
Of course, pikachu were common to the area, and Ash was aware that hundreds of the feral mice were scurrying through the Viridian Forest. They had to deal with this wretched day without the sanctuary of a warm house and caring trainer, and they were presumably fine. Deep down, Ash was certain Pikachu could hold his own, as well. But that was if he were alert and able-bodied. That was if Pikachu was okay. The last thing Ash wanted to imagine was Pikachu being anything besides, but his mind kept unwillingly falling back to that awful notion, and it was killing him.
If Pikachu was fine, he could have come when called. He would have wanted to see Ash. He would have discerned the urgency in his tone. Above all, he would have been anxious to get out of the rain. This is what confused and frightened Ash the most, knowing how much Pikachu disliked wet weather. It was just too out of the blue for Pikachu's tastes to unexpectedly change and leave Ash to simply presume that his pokémon was dancing between the raindrops, happy-go-lucky. It just wasn't like him. The only surprises Pikachu ever presented were the brilliant leaps and bounds he made in his battle aptitude.
Tauros snorted again and nudged Ash's hand, breaking him from his gloomy reverie.
"Tauros," Ash sighed, his voice catching slightly, "have—have you seen Pikachu? Did you see Pikachu? Is Pikachu here?"
Ash was hoping that the word "Pikachu" and the intonation of his voice would be enough for the bull to discern what was being asked of him. Gazing pleadingly into Taurus' eye, giving him an added visual to work with, Ash searched for any sign that would aid him.
It was Tauros' lack of reaction that spoke most profoundly. If Tauros was aware of Pikachu's whereabouts, he would have given some sort of indication—a turn of his head, if nothing else. Instead, he just flicked his ears and sighed lazily, burrowing his nose deeper into Ash's palm. Biting his lip in disappointment, Ash tiredly accepted the weight and tried to fight down the escalating uneasiness in his stomach.
"'S'okay," he mumbled. "'S'okay, Tauros."
But it wasn't okay, and knowing this, Ash found it was getting harder to keep a positive attitude. He was seconds away from giving in and finding refuge against Tauros' skull to let out his emotions when another sound grabbed his attention. This one was, however, was a little less identifiable than his tauros' mighty cry. Speaking of which, he wasn't the only one put on the alert. All at once, the whole lot of the tauros' heads rose. Ash's grief was momentarily put aside as he strained to make out the sudden commotion that seemed, yet again, to be heading his way.
When he at last recognized what it was, and it seemed so obvious after he had, his shoulders hung in exasperation. He knew he should have expected this; taking off into the field with two people yelling at him was bound to result in someone inevitably coming out for him. If they weren't going to help him find Pikachu, why couldn't they just leave him be?
Sure enough, emerging over one of the broad slopes of the pasture was an all-terrain vehicle, one of the few Professor Oak owned, gunning effortlessly over the wet ground and slicing through standing water. Everything went chaotic. Stirred by the racket bearing down on them, the tauros abruptly took off together, globs of mud projecting in their launch. Ash was startled when even Tauros abandoned his side to join his friends' charge. Just like that, he was all alone again, the bulls putting yards between them in seconds. As the professor normally used one of the ATVs to round up the herd, they clearly believed it was coming for them, but Ash knew who it was really hunting down. Lamenting that he couldn't make as easy an escape, he resignedly turned to greet the vehicle.
He had been certain it was Professor Oak, but as the dirtied ATV slowed in its approach, he was surprised at who he discovered behind the wheel. Cloaked in a shocking yellow rain suit, which hadn't been spared of splatter despite the ATV's mud flaps, was Tracey. Ash felt an immediate calming relief bathe his nerves as the older teen brought the vehicle to a stop before him.
"Hey, Ash," Tracey called over the rumble of the motor. He sounded winded, as if the drive out to him had been an effort. Either that, or Professor Oak had made him rush into this outing with barely a notice. With his mom present and no doubt going on incessantly demanding his return, Ash wasn't going to discount it.
"Tracey."
His friend, whom he hadn't seen since his birthday dinner many days ago, flashed a very brief, sympathetic smile. "I, uh…I heard about Pikachu being missing. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Ash replied at once, "I'll find him." His breathing hitched. Hearing the put-on certainly in his tone pained him, because he still couldn't find himself fully embracing it. And he hated that.
"Oh, yeah, I'm sure," nodded Tracey, doing his best to bolster the conviction. "So no luck out here?"
Put off by the inquiry, Ash gave him a look, one that he was sure conveyed a very clear Does it look like it? But he quickly blinked it away, knowing that was an uncalled-for reaction to Tracey's concern.
"N-no. I don't know. I was hoping, since he wasn't near my house—I just thought he might be here. You—you didn't happen to see him this morning around here, did you?" Ash almost laughed disdainfully: one pointless question following another. He knew Tracey would have certainly already mentioned it if he had. It had to be the moment—just the tangle of the moment.
Tracey's face fell. "This is really the first time I've been out here today. Kind've been waiting for the rain to let up first. Not really stopping, though, is it?"
Alas, this was apparently going to be a prolonged swap of inane chatter, which was only delaying his urgent search, but Ash all the same providing the somber answer. "No, it isn't." Never before he had wanted rain to stop as much as he did now. Naturally, it just started to pick up again, twisting the sharp blade of anguish a little more.
"It's really bad out," Tracey added, too unnecessarily for even this nondescript exchange. It was then that Ash detected the hesitance in his voice, and caught on to what was indeed going on. This wasn't a conversation rendered clumsy just because Tracey didn't know how to address his distraught friend. Tracey was getting to something, and Ash had a good idea of what it was.
"Yeah…" he agreed, testing the waters.
"Maybe…uh, maybe you should come in now."
Oh yeah, this definitely had his mom written all over it.
Reminding himself that Tracey was simply the messenger, Ash took a deep, leveling breath and blinked his aggravation away. "No, no it's okay. I'm fine. I'm gonna stay out and keep looking."
"But—but Ash…" Tracey's voice became heavier with awkwardness, guilt even. Poor guy. He was never the most insistent of people, and he probably knew deep down that he had no shot in hell at convincing Ash to return. He was never a match against Ash's resolve and strength, not like Misty or Brock was. Tracey just happened to be the young, hard-wearing assistant in the house at the time and thus the job had been unluckily imposed on him.
"Y-you should really come inside. You're…" His eyes quickly scanned Ash from head to toe, inspecting his unlikely get-up. "...You're not…dressed for this."
"Yeah, I know that," Ash retorted. He hated how bitter and vicious it slipped out, especially when he saw Tracey's head recoil deeper into his hood at his bark. "It was all I could grab when I left, okay?"
Tracey swallowed noticeably. "So then…why don't you come back with me and I can get you something better to wear. You're totally soaked and…are you wearing slippers?"
Ash stamped a foot huffily, almost as if to rebel against Tracey's incredulity. "I'm fine," he insisted again.
"You can't be fine, walking around out here in slippers. Ash, you gotta be cold!"
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are." Tracey's voice was becoming stronger, more determined. "You're shivering."
It was only when he said it that Ash realized he was right. He could practically hear the clattering of his teeth over the idle of the ATV. Knowing he couldn't deny it, he wrapped his arms around himself and grit his jaw secure. "Whatever! It doesn't matter, I'll be okay. I—I gotta stay out here, Trace, I gotta keep looking. Okay?"
"You're not gonna be able to keep looking if you get sick, Ash!"
Watch me! Ash was ready to snap, but bit it back. Again, it wasn't Tracey he was angry at for this disruption. Still, he was becoming increasingly annoyed and didn't know how much longer he could hold a civil tongue. Tracey didn't deserve it, even though he was the one wasting his time. Maybe Tracey himself was becoming more drawn in to the task seeing how pitiable and unbefitting Ash was, but nevertheless Ash had to put his foot down and refocus on finding Pikachu. In the end, Tracey was going to have to step aside or help him out.
And thankfully, the former pokémon watcher was just the person to persuade either way. Suddenly, Ash felt fortunate that it was Tracey who had been sent after him. God only knew how powerless Ash might have been if it had been Brock instead—in some situations, Brock's influence was just a shade or two off Jay's.
"Tracey, I'm not gonna get sick. I know my mom and Professor Oak sent you out here to come get me, but just tell them I'm fine, okay? I'll come in…" When I find him. But what if I don't find him—yet? "…Soon. I promise."
"Ash, I…" Tracey bit his lip nervously. He revved the ATV once, probably as a distraction. "I was told not to come back without you."
Indignation welled up in Ash. "Who told you that? Mom?"
"Well…yes. Both of them did. They're worried."
"Tracey—"
"They're just worried because of how you're dressed, Ash!" Tracey swore, desperate not to rile up Ash any further. "Please, just come back with me and we'll get you some boots to wear, and—and some rain pants. I mean…" Tracey absentmindedly pulled his hood down further over his brow as he noted that Ash was still smaller than he was, "you—well, you might not fit into my clothes that great, either, but it'll definitely be better than being out here in your pajamas!"
"If I come back to the house Mom's gonna make me come home," grated Ash.
"Well," Tracey stammered, still overly flustered, "m-maybe that'd be better even still! Then you could get your own boots and jacket and—"
"Tracey, I'm not going back to the house!" Ash shouted. "If Mom gets me home, there's no way she's going to let me go back out in this weather. She'll make me wait till the rain stops, and what if it doesn't stop today?"
"It's not supposed to," Tracey affirmed reluctantly.
"Then I'm screwed," Ash concluded decisively, both to his friend and to himself. For the first time in their frenzied discord, Tracey didn't attempt a riposte. Ash's voice lowered as he resumed. "Pikachu's out here somewhere. He's cold and wet, too, and that's not bringing him home on his own, so he has to be in some sort of trouble. I have to help him—I have to look for him. He probably needs me, and…" Ash took a deep breath as he found himself trying to oppress his emotions again. "And that's why I really don't care if I'm freezing and wet and not wearing the right kind of clothes because none of that matters to me right now. All that matters to me is finding him and making sure he's okay."
Tracey didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The look of pure understanding and sympathy he was giving Ash expressed enough, reminded him of whom he was talking to. It was redundant for Ash to convince Tracey how important it was for him to find Pikachu—that would be clear to anyone who spent at least five minutes with him at any given time. But Tracey had a boss and a fretful mother to answer to if he came back empty-handed (Ash wondered who the modest Tracey feared more), and Ash recognized just what an uncomfortable position Tracey had been placed in.
Well, if Tracey wasn't supposed to go back without Ash, then he wasn't going to go back at all. Eyeing the ATV, Ash felt his nerves itch with motivation.
"Hey, could you give me a ride on that thing?"
Tracey looked flabbergasted by Ash's sudden change of heart. "Huh? B-back to the house?"
Ash scowled. "No, no—I mean to the other side of the preserve! Down by the stream and everything. I haven't checked there yet."
"Ash—"
"You'd get me there much faster on that thing than I would walking! Please, Tracey? You'd be helping me out so much!"
"I want to help, Ash, but I really think you should change your clothes first!"
"Don't worry about my clothes!" Ash stressed firmly once more, even if he was starting to feel the anesthetizing chill of his garments straight down to his bones. He refused to give in to the suffering—it was his fault he was dressed like this, and he was going to have to deal with it. "Just please give me a ride?"
Ash must have looked—and sounded—more horrible than he thought. That had to be it. Because Tracey knew. Under any other kind of circumstances, his friend would have been more than willing to give his time and effort to help Ash find his beloved companion. Ash couldn't possibly recall in one shot all the times Tracey had stood faithfully by his side in the Orange Archipelago, facing whatever dilemma beleaguered the group with a steady judiciousness that came with age and experience. He'd rarely challenged Ash, and it wasn't simply because Ash's tenacity would override his diffidence most of the time. It was because he was a true blue friend; Ash's quest and his friendship meant something to him, and there was no doubt in Ash's mind that there was no difference now.
Tracey was worried about Pikachu, but he was more worried about his friend's well-being.
A merciless squall nearly knocked Ash over and sent a paralyzing chill up his whole body. Okay, that was cold. Regardless of his brave stubbornness, there was no denying that. It was the worst reminder of the unforgiving conditions yet, and Ash was sure that being as wringing wet as he was, it was only going to get worse—the wind hadn't been much of a factor, but it was starting to show its force as the afternoon wore on. It had to be around noon time, but obstructed by the heavy cloud cover, the sun still bore no power, gave no warmth. Forcing his mind momentarily on his state, Ash was overwhelmed with the extent of his impediments, how cold he actually was. The tops of his ears were actually beginning to throb.
Tracey was still giving him that look, the one that clearly stated he had much to say, and none of it Ash wanted to hear. He wasn't making any motion to leave, either. He didn't want to—for more than one reason. For a moment, the only thing warmed of Ash was his heart.
He wasn't going to stop looking for Pikachu. But he wasn't going to alienate this good, caring friend of his, either.
"Tracey… What about this?" he asked warily. "Just…just give me a quick ride around the preserve. It won't take too long, will it?"
"…No…"
"Just to…see if Pikachu is anywhere. Round sweep of the place? And then…" He finally gave in, because it was unavoidable. "…Then you can take me back to my house."
"Your house?"
"Yeah," Ash sighed, shrugging. "I…I am cold. And I want to be able to search for Pikachu no matter what, just—just in case… And…and I guess I have to put some shoes on. So I can come back out here."
And I will, Ash avowed to himself. If Tracey was worried, then his mother would be out-and-out beside herself. Regardless, nothing and nobody was going to hinder his search, stop him until Pikachu was found and safely back by his side. Weather be damned…once he was sporting an appropriate attire. He couldn't fool himself any longer.
All he needed now was Tracey's support. "Is that okay? Would you do that?"
Luckily, the older teen appeared overly relieved with Ash's capitulation. "Yeah—yeah, sure, I can do that!" he readily agreed. He inched himself forward on the ATV's seat to give Ash room to join him. The vinyl was wet, but it made no difference to Ash as he swung his leg over and settled behind Tracey. Right away, his feet felt better being removed from the deep sludge they'd been sinking into. It was a split second of pure respite. It made Ash more ambitious and more secure in his decision to take care of himself before continuing his pursuit.
He would be no use to Pikachu if he ended up in the hospital with pneumonia.
Tracey instantly took off—probably a bit too hurriedly—and Ash had to grab around his friend's waist to keep from tumbling off. Once he gained his balance, he clutched the bars of the rack behind him and ducked behind Tracey's back to shield his face from the onslaught of rain. Still, he kept his eyes and ears peeled, his voice ready, his attention trained on the landscape whizzing by.
Tracey, who had gone from a nuisance to a lifesaver, craned his head back. Ash could barely make him out over the roar of the engine, even though he was screaming.
"You'll stick up for me when I do what I'm not supposed to do and take this thing on the road back to your house, right?"
For the first time in what seemed like hours, Ash smiled slightly. He owed Tracey far more. "For what you're doing for me now? Absolutely!"
His short-lived mirth was just that. Tracey was true to his word—the tour of the preserve, even with slowing down and killing the engine periodically to potentially hear Pikachu, did not take terribly long. Before Ash knew it, he was being dropped off in his front yard, let down, dismayed, and frozen to the core.
He did not have Pikachu.
Getting to sleep that night was obviously not going to happen. Ash didn't even know why he'd bothered putting on his (fresh) pajamas and crawling into bed. Oh yes, now he remembered. They wouldn't let him do otherwise.
That evening, after listlessly pushing the food around his dinner plate, he'd stood on his front stoop, gazing out hopefully into the distance as night swallowed the land. It felt like hours that he was out there, his feet twitching restlessly in place. It was finally Misty who coaxed him inside after repeated failed attempts by his parents and Brock, tugging his hand gently and luring him with her beseeching eyes. It was late, and they were tired, worn out from the commotion the day had unexpectedly presented. Ash was exhausted, too, but settling in for the night and surrendering from the search, albeit temporarily, seemed like an impossible move.
It had to be noted, though, that aside from his unpleasant, unsuccessful morning excursion, there hadn't been much to call a search. The weather had gotten progressively uglier as the day wore on, hindering Ash and the others from staying outdoors for an extended period of time. Even in full rain garb (his mother had easily found his raincoat in the closet), Ash could barely lift his head to look ahead due to the hammering rain. He'd still ventured out several times, much to the dismay of Delia, but even he had to finally admit that it was impossible to get too far. The only consolation he received was that Professor Oak had sent the word out to his neighbors and nearby colleagues of Pikachu's disappearance, and had also filed a missing pokémon report with the local police. The latter didn't boast a strong success rating, but it was a comfort nonetheless, something Ash desperately grappled onto.
The rain ultimately began to taper off in the late afternoon, but by that time, the sun had set, and new, more difficult obstacles were posed by the darkness. Ash was left with no choice but to come in for good, cursing the weather's course as if it were calculated instead of simply a terrible coincidence.
Now he found himself laying flat on his back in bed, his head directed toward the window, his eyes and ears wide open. Below him, he could hear Brock's quiet breathing, rhythmic with slumber. Ash envied him. He knew he would never fall asleep. Not when each time he closed his eyes they willed themselves anxiously open again. Not when he twisted and turned about four dozen times in the short period he had been in bed, lacking the familiar ball of warmth pressed against his legs or his back or his stomach. There were times when Pikachu truly did find particularly bad places to curl up against Ash, keeping him from finding a comfortable position for sleep or shifting without awaking his pokémon. But tonight, Ash knew there was no way he would cope without it.
Pikachu wasn't there. He didn't know where Pikachu was. And here he was, laying in bed, doing nothing about it. Nothing but fretting.
And fretting, Ash realized angrily, wasn't helping matters much.
Flipping onto his stomach, his legs getting slightly tangled within his covers, Ash buried his head onto his pillow and tried to unwind. There was nothing he could do at the moment, he kept reminding himself. Not a single thing he hadn't done during the day. All there was to do now was sleep. Rest. Build strength for tomorrow. Make the morning come faster.
He remained in that position for well over a quarter-hour, each minute dragging by perceptibly. Around him, the world continued uninterrupted. Brock's breathing never hitched; the ticking of his clock never stilled; the shadows of the tree branches outside his room continued to sway gracefully. The peacefulness of the night was deceiving. Ash was anything but peaceful.
Pikachu's gone. Pikachu's gone. The thought played over and over again in the skipping record player of his mind, overriding the stringent appeal he was making with himself to calm down, go to sleep. The conscious side of the battle was floundering, and before long, he could do nothing but helplessly surrender to the demand of the mental anguish.
No, I can't do this anymore, he nearly said out loud, lifting his head from his pillow. The crisp air hit his flushed skin and moistened eyes. I can't just…lay here. I can't…
He could do something other than lie there. And whether or not it was the most logical thing to do, Ash didn't care. With just a slight moment of hesitation, he slipped out of his sheets, his heart jumping as the chill of the room enveloped him. His eyes had adjusted quite well to the darkness thanks to his involuntary vigilance, and carefully, he peered down at the outline of his friend. Brock was cocooned in his comforter and very much asleep. Hopefully, the rest of the house was quite the same.
I'm coming, Pikachu, I'm coming, Ash chanted to himself as he quietly descended from his bunk to the soft carpet below. It was times like these that he was overjoyed Brock was such a deep sleeper. If his friend knew what he was planning, he wouldn't even get as far as his doorway.
With as much discreetness as he could manage, Ash opened his drawer and pulled out the first long-sleeved shirt he made contact with. Not even bothering to remove his pajama top, Ash yanked the shirt over his head. Thankfully, he remembered tossing his jeans and sweatshirt over his desk chair, and stealthily went to retrieve them. He couldn't believe the success he was having at keeping quiet, but he was determined. Brock could not wake up. Ash had to do this, and fast. His room may not have always been the neatest, but he knew where everything was, and in a matter of minutes, he was dressed, he'd assembled his Pokébelt and his backpack (thankfully equipped for the continuation of his journey that his mother had halted), and he was out his bedroom door.
Getting around the dark house was not as easy as navigating his bedroom. The carpets aided his secrecy, but Ash still tip-toed delicately to the staircase, holding his breath the whole time. He had no set goal in mind, no plan of action, no direction established. He didn't know where he was going to search or how far he'd venture. All he could think of was Pikachu, out there somewhere—in the dark, by himself, unprotected, beaten down for hours by the weather, possibly hurt. Requiring Ash's help. That objective alone convinced Ash that sleeping was simply a waste of time. Once he was out of the house, he'd let his intuition lead him. Pikachu needed him…and the night was not about to be an obstacle to that.
Once down the stairs, miraculously with only a few small creaks, he shoved his feet into his sneakers and furiously laced them up. The whole house was encased in overwhelming darkness. There was no doubt that the atmosphere was eerie; at any other time, doing what he was about to do what have creeped Ash out. It was amazing what devotion enabled one to do.
Biting his bottom lip, Ash slowly unlocked the deadbolt of the door and cupped his clammy palm around the doorknob. The door notoriously groaned a lot, but somehow Ash was going to get out of there without making a sound. He had to. Easing it open an inch a second, Ash calmed his racing heart with the steadiest breathing his body could achieve. It was working—it was working! Having edged the door open enough to squeeze his slender body through, Ash went to work closing it with the same caution.
As soon as that arduous task was completed, Ash turned and took in the surroundings. The rainclouds had moved on out hours ago, but the cold temperatures had remained, and instinctively, Ash pulled his hood over his head. While the moon was full and bright, it was low in the sky, allowing long, dark shadows to swallow whatever the moon's rays didn't touch. Automatically, he twisted his backpack in front of him and went to obtain his flashlight. With incredibly shaky hands, stricken from anxiety, Ash fumbled with the zipper of his bag, tugging at it impatiently before it finally gave way. Yeah, he definitely needed more light.
And suddenly, there was light. Strong, bright illumination that cast his shadow twenty feet before him like a heinous presence, startling him out of his frenzied concentration. Immediately after, the door he had meticulously closed behind him swung open noisily. He spun around in an instant, his eyes assaulted by the porch light piercing his enlarged pupils and his heart jolted by the dark figure silhouetted in front of it.
"…Ash?"
"Dad?" The word caught in his throat as he struggled to regain his breath.
Quickly, Ash recognized his father, who leaned tiredly against the deck rail and gawked at him with squinted eyes, burdened by sleepiness, as if struggling to identify his son.
"What are you doing out here?" Jay asked, bewildered and concerned.
Ash was frozen in place from the unexpected interruption, his hand still clutched at the zipper of his opened backpack. His breath quickened, bursting short clouds of condensation from his nose into the nippy air, as his stare zeroed in on his father with the same wide-eyed look of a stantler caught in headlights. The simple answer to Jay's question lingered on his tongue, snagged with intense hesitation.
"I, uh, I'm…" he stuttered, ducking his head as far back into his hood as possible. His grip on the zipper loosened in order to pull the bag timidly to his chest. "I'm—I want to find Pikachu." He exhaled heavily. "I'm going to look for Pikachu."
For a split second, the dazed expression on Jay's face didn't waver. Ash wondered briefly if his dad was too tired and disoriented to not only register his disclosure, but allow it. But just as quickly as that ridiculous theory passed through his mind, Jay frowned and shook his head.
"No, Ash. No," he sighed, lifting himself off the rail. He ran one hand through his untamed hair, mussed from his short time in bed, and beckoned his son sluggishly with the other. "It's late. Come inside now."
No. The word registered terribly within Ash, and reactively, he felt his body tense and his opposition kicking in.
"B-but," he objected, spoken with an unsteady mix of resolve and denial. His head darted momentarily toward the road. "I…can't. I have to go…"
"You're not going anywhere right now," Jay said matter-of-factly. He shuffled his bare feet back toward the door. "C'mon, you need to go to bed. We'll continue looking in the morning."
Even though Ash's features were jumpy, his feet were planted firmly in place. "But Dad…no…no. I don't want to wait till the morning—I can't," he protested, his unstable voice cracking slightly.
Jay stopped in the doorway, his frown deepening. As his sleepy vision cleared, he finally began to make out his son on the front lawn, fully dressed with his backpack in hand, appearing as though he was heading out to continue his journey at a rather random, ungodly hour of the night.
"I can't sleep," Ash continued, his face furrowing pleadingly at his dad's look. "Please, I have to go look for him. I can't go back. He's out there, and I have to find him—"
"Ash," interrupted Jay calmly but firmly. "Stop it. It's late—very late. You aren't going out to look for Pikachu right now. Okay? Come inside."
Balking, Ash shook his head, panic surging within him. "No…no, I can't!" he cried.
In that instant, the air about the two altered. Ash's indecisiveness was dissipating, revealing a determined young man who was not to be deterred, while his father's sleepiness was beginning to lift, a seed of impatience starting to bud with the generous watering of his son's stubbornness.
Ash opened his mouth to further defend his need, but Jay interjected quickly and pointedly. "Ash, listen to me. It's after midnight. It's freezing out here. And everyone's in bed. If you think I'm just going to let you go out there and look for Pikachu right now, in the middle of the night, by yourself, you're crazy."
"I'll be okay!" Ash insisted on the verge of whining. "I know my way around—"
"It's not about that. It's about the fact that you're dead tired—"
"I'm not tired."
"You will be before you know it. And I won't have you wandering the streets when your body finally decides to quit on you. Now, come on now. Get back inside and get to bed," Jay ordered once again, his voice lowering but the demand unwavering. "We'll look for Pikachu tomorrow."
His son didn't reply nor move—just stared forlornly. His father's words made sense—they did. But didn't Ash's words make sense, too?
"Ash," Jay growled warningly at his son's lack of response.
"Please…don't make me," Ash begged softly. "Please, Dad, just let me go look for him—"
Jay threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "Ash—no. NO! What part of that do you not understand?"
Ash ducked his head, and at once, Jay saw alarm, tenacity, and dismay all flash in his son's glassy eyes. Ash wasn't in his right mind; he knew that. The boy's conduct was no different than what it was when Jay had returned home and saw firsthand how this terrible ordeal was affecting his boy. Ash was going through a tremendous shock, and he wanted to remain proactive. But no matter how independent Ash could be on his own, Jay wasn't about to let his child wander around Pallet Town in the middle of a cold night while he and the rest of his family slept peacefully. Underneath the doggedness, he was certain Ash understood that, but getting through to him didn't look to be an easy task ahead.
Jay leaned forward on the railing of the deck and braced as the chill of the night penetrated through his thin sleep shirt. No way was Ash staying out here. No way in hell.
"Ash. I'm not letting you—" he started, calmer this time.
"Then come with me."
So much for placidity. Jay clenched his jaw. "No one is going anywhere right now. Okay? You're being incredibly ridiculous now. Quit it. I'm serious."
"I am, too!" Ash yelled, his own intolerance kicking in. "Dad, I'm not going back to bed! I can't! I can't when I know Pikachu is out there alone and lost and—"
"SHHHH!" Jay ordered, planting a finger to his lips. "Lower your voice."
"Then let me go!" Ash replied through gritted teeth.
"Ash! You—uggggh!"
His heart thumping violently in his ribcage, Ash watched Jay dump his head into his hand. His father was giving himself a moment, summoning patience. Normally, Ash would concede rapidly to such a warning sign, a solid purge of his brashness, but these circumstances were different. This was not a time to simply fold. He needed to make Jay comprehend that he couldn't give up. He'd spent the last three years of his life navigating the woods, oftentimes at night, and Pallet Town was no different—heck, it was more familiar! If anything was a huge waste of time in finding Pikachu, this argument was. Dammit, if only he had been a little quieter leaving the house…
"Son," Jay's entreated, rubbing his temple, "don't do this to me now, okay? Please? I'm tired. And you're tired. Just…please? Come inside and go to bed? Don't make me ask again."
Ash could hear the exhaustion in his dad's voice, and it did make him feel sorry. His father just wanted him in bed so that he could be at peace. But Ash wanted to be at peace, too. And that wasn't going to happen so long as Pikachu was missing in action. Making a decision between honoring his dad's command and remaining loyal to his best pal tugged at Ash's conscience. Maybe it was the slight defeat in Jay's stance, unintended on his father's part, but Ash just couldn't—couldn't—think of giving in.
In the end, his resolve in finding Pikachu overcame his rationale. Ash's feet slowly began to back up and away from the house. Accompanying that was a gradual twist of his body. As subtle as it was, however, Jay noticed. Nothing got past Jay. He could see right away the decision his distraught boy's mind was making.
"Ash," he cautioned, his eyes narrowing.
Jay's voice stopped Ash, but only briefly. He clenched his eyes shut, knowing the trouble that would brew from this, but it was the lesser of two outcomes. Didn't his dad see? As Pikachu's trainer and friend, it was his responsibility to do this.
Yes…yes, that was correct. His responsibility—his obligation. He was doing what any other pokémon trainer would do in this instance. Going back inside simply was not an option. The decision was made. Whether Jay liked it or not.
Taking a deep breath, Ash continued his rotation, and finally found himself facing the road completely.
"Ash." Deeper now, more frustrated, more threatening. "Get. Inside."
The sharp, no-nonsense demand made Ash cringe. It was very clear now his dad was done appealing. If he didn't obey, there would be hell to pay for this later. But Ash would deal with that when it came to pass. After all, wasn't it a justifiable price to pay for listening to his heart? Perhaps, in the end, Jay would come to realize that what he was doing here was important, the right thing to do. At this moment, Pikachu needed him, much more than his dad needed him in bed. And with that final reasoning, he took one small step toward the road.
"You go one inch further and I'll come out there and drag you back in myself! You hear me?"
The decibels may have just increased a little bit, but all that was needed was Jay's severe tone for Ash to unwillingly halt in his tracks. Nothing more was needed to alert him that the levee of his father's temper was about to burst. If he did venture any further, Jay would retrieve him. And he wouldn't do it gently, either. In that dreadful moment, Ash realized that he was ultimately going to lose, regardless of his willpower. If it came to force—and by the sound of Jay's voice, it would—he was unquestionably no match for Jay's strength. Ash's shoulders slumped as he was overwhelmed with defeat.
Pikachu…I'm sorry, buddy…
His face skewed with setback and grief, Ash grudgingly turned to face Jay and was met with a very unyielding glare.
"Dad…"
"Inside," he demanded, pointing to the door.
After one more lingering second of reluctance, Ash lugged himself toward the house, swiping a hand at his pooling eyes. He hated this. Hated being caught. Hated being forbidden from making his own choices. Hated being so weak, unable to defend himself, giving up so easily. And, at present, hated his dad for having no sympathy for him, no support for what he needed to do.
Jay's face had softened, but as Ash neared, he unconsciously drew himself in and braced, both out of resentment for his father and the fear that Jay still had half-a-mind to act on his irritation. His worry was validated as Jay grabbed his arm as he was about to pass by and jerked him toward him.
"Dad, no—"
His voice was muted as Jay pressed Ash's damp face into his chest, trapping the boy in a strong hug. It only took a second for Ash to stop panicking and submit to the embrace. It was firm and restricting and he was still a little too angry to accept it, but as his heart gradually calmed and his dad's hold warmed his shaking body, Ash went slack, and the stubborn tears he'd held pent-up all day finally gave way. Jay clutched a protective arm around Ash's shoulders as the vibration of his boy's sudden cries broke his heart in two.
"I'm sorry, I…I'm-m just so scared…" Ash struggled to explain through the sobs that had rapidly taken control of him.
"Shhhhh." Jay cupped his hand around Ash's head.
"I can't sleep, Dad, I can't, I tried…"
"I know, bud, I know."
"I miss him," Ash sniveled. "I just want him back; I can't stand him being gone. I wanna go look for him so bad…"
"Shhhh," Jay soothed again. "I know you do. But you can't right now, kiddo. Not right now."
Ash succumbed to his cries, reluctantly accepting his father's sensitive words. Jay winced and held him closer, wishing with all his might he could say something to make Ash feel better, to allay his dread…something not generic, cliché, obligatory. Something his son could grasp onto and trust and believe in. But it was just too hard to say the reassuring things that Jay himself was unable to certify in his own mind. He couldn't allow his child to stray dangerously off to do something Jay felt, sadly, would result in failure. He held his own speculations of what could have happened to Pikachu, only because Jay was hardened by his years of experience in the disappointment of reality. But this was neither the time nor place to have that conversation with Ash. All he could do now was help the poor boy get some much needed rest.
"Wanna sit on the couch with me for a while?" Jay whispered tenderly.
"I'unno," Ash wheezed. The misery in his voice was enough of an answer for Jay. Ash couldn't be left alone right then.
"Come on, let's get you out of the cold."
Jay finally shut the door on the cool autumn night and guided his drained son to the couch. As soon as they sat down, Ash instinctively curled into Jay and deposited his face on his father's shoulder, wiping his dripping eyes into his shirt.
"We'll keep looking tomorrow," Jay said softly, pressing his son's head lovingly closer. "Okay? I promise. Close your eyes now. Rest."
"Mm," Ash replied sluggishly, his ability to speak suddenly a draining effort. As it was, his tears had well extinguished every last reserve of energy in his system. Almost at once, he could feel his body yielding to the unanticipated comfort. He found himself fighting to retain his once-consuming worry, the anxiety giving way under the burden of his looming fatigue. In his clouded perception, he could vaguely hear his dad pick up the remote and turn on the TV, feel Jay reach to pull a blanket over him, squeeze him closer. As the last of his tears dried, leaving his face bloated and raw and his head encumbered, there was not much left of which Ash was cognizant. But of that little awareness enduring, there was one prominent thought that wafted with him into sleep.
No way in the world could he ever really hate his dad.
He knew where he was right away.
The smell was what tipped him off initially. It was the only thing that could, as his other senses were stymied by the stuffy, opaque sack he'd been gracelessly transported in. He could barely hear a sound through the dense, rubber material, yet the unique aromatic blend of corrosion and pokémon territorial markings stirred his memory instantly. Hardly a forgettable scent, and also, it was only yesterday he'd been introduced to this place.
He was then deposited—more like dropped—into an electric-proof (naturally, though he had to validate with a few shocks) crate, not much roomier than the sack, but at least he could breathe. And he could see that he was, indeed, back in the old house with the warped, rough floors that Pikapi had been so eager to explore the day before. Why he was there, though, added confusion to his already scattered, anxious mind.
Getting stolen by these three unrelenting dunderheads was, of course, nothing new to Pikachu, but the way this day had panned out was definitely out of the ordinary. It all began with being strangely and curtly left outside early that morning. Pikachu had been confounded and unquestionably unhappy about this abnormal situation. He'd even been quick about his business! He had to be: the rain was coming down hard, his fur was getting soaked, and he was catching a nasty chill. Why were they not letting him back in? Had they forgotten about him? Had they not wanted him back in the house? Was it because he was wet, and they remembered the last time he came in from the rain and unintentionally left a lengthy trail of prints from the front door all the way through the kitchen and into the dining room?
Whatever was the case, his pleas had been ignored. Hassled and put-off, he was just about ready to dip under one of the bushes to take refuge from the rain when suddenly his world had gone black. While certainly taken by surprise, it didn't take more than a second for him to figure out what was occurring. At once, he'd let loose with shocks and bolts and aggressive struggles, but it was no use. As he was blindly dragged and carted further and further away, soaked, cold, flustered, and powerless, all he could wonder was if anyone knew. He'd been taken by Team Rocket countless times, but nearly all of those times it was right under Pikapi's watch and to the tune of his trainer's furious shouts and demands for his return.
This time, Pikapi didn't even know he'd been let outside. Left outside.
At that, Pikachu had felt panic like never before. He was completely helpless, at the mercy of whatever they decided to do with him and wherever they decided to take him.
But then, out of the blue, there they were. It made sense for Team Rocket to pause for a moment following a victorious heist, but this was the last place Pikachu would have expected. And it didn't look like a brief pit-stop, either. From his crate, perched atop an old, chipping breakfront in an upstairs bedroom, he could see the room's refuse pushed off into a far corner, making space for sleeping bags and other supplies. Two small lanterns bathed the room in a weak glow. It definitely looked as though Team Rocket had chosen this unlikely spot as their temporary abode. Even if filthy, rotting, and drafty, the house was a sanctuary from the rain.
Pikachu then huddled in the crate for hours, his fur gradually drying and his unease rising. It took them a while, but they did eventually give him food and water. This puzzled Pikachu even more. Why were they feeding him, taking care of him, not just rushing him off to some hidden, remote location, putting a secure distance between him and Pikapi? Was it just because of the rain? Did they plan on stealing more of his friends later on? Although the time-out was presently in Pikachu's favor, he couldn't help but be mystified by Team Rocket's motive. They weren't the brightest individuals, but even this seemed overly careless of them.
He hadn't eaten that morning, but he didn't dare touch the food. He hadn't even sniffed it. The pit in his stomach that was once occupied with hunger was now substituted with trepidation. As the day wore on, all he could dwell on and anticipate was Pikapi coming to find him and rescue him. It only seemed a matter of time. Especially since he was so near! Yet his trainer was not showing up. He was never even in the vicinity—Pikachu would have heard him, sensed him. As it turned out, no one approached the house since they had arrived. Was it true, then? Did they really not know he'd been taken?
Or were they not coming because the house was so forbidden? Pikachu had felt the lingering tension when they'd been there the day before. He knew it was a place they were not supposed to be—the uncertainty had oozed from Pikachupi's scent. As these added factors invaded his mind, Pikachu's edginess intensified.
Meowth was the first to notice his indifference toward the food. He'd hopped onto the table and given Pikachu a worrisome, almost sympathetic look. Pikachu had bristled at the audacious concern.
"Ain't ya hungry, Pikachu?"
Unable to counter with his electricity, Pikachu had backed into a corner of the crate and leveled a hostile glare at the cat.
"Hey." Meowth had turned to Jessie and James, seated on their sleeping bags and nibbling their own meager portions. "Pikachu's not eatin' anyting."
Jessie had scoffed through a full-mouth. "I did my part. If it wants to starve itself to death, that's its own brainless decision."
It would be a while before he starved. But when they weren't looking, Pikachu had discreetly lapped up some water; the stress had dehydrated him.
Now the room was dark; a whole day had passed. The rain let up at last. The perpetual fear of them finally picking up and continuing on was always at the forefront of Pikachu's mindset, but all of a sudden the celebratory mood was starting to shift. They were arguing. The trio's previous prattling tones of self-satisfaction and delight were replaced by sharp, irritable remarks. Though Pikachu couldn't decode every word passed between them with swelling heatedness, it was easy to determine that there was a conflict of interests.
"But I thought you were afraid of going anywhere near that house..."
"For the last time, I am not afraid to go near that house!"
"Yeah, right! Dat's why you had us standin' a mile away when we snatched Pikachu!"
"That was so Pikachu didn't hear us coming! And so we could be somewhat inconspicuous, you blundering flea-bag! Besides, you-know-who was gone. So there!"
"But he'll be dere now!"
"I know that! But he won't be awake! What do you think he is, Meowth, a vampire? We'll pull this off without them even twitching in their sleep."
"But Jessie, I don't understand why we have to do this! We have Pikachu! We should be getting as far away from there as possible! The longer we wait the more of a chance they have to find us!"
"That's why we are doing this, James. In the end, you'll realize it's the perfect, surefire escape plan!"
"The poifect, surefire escape plan woulda been ta run when we had da chance!"
"Are you crazy? It'd just been let out! If we didn't hide, they would've found us for sure! We needed to come here."
"Yeah, so now dat it's gettin' dark, we should hightail it outta here!"
"Ugh, we will! But you have to let me do this first! This'll get them off our trail for good; you'll see! All we need to do is fill their simple, little twerpish minds with a ridiculous notion they're bound to believe. They'll be so distracted it'll give us plenty of time to get Pikachu to the boss without having to worry about them tracking us down!"
"But…how can you be sure it's going to work? They might not believe it…"
"Trust me, they'll believe it. It's guaranteed to throw them off. Not to mention be utterly hilarious!"
"That's why you're doing this."
"Oh, whatever, James! If that's what you want to think, go ahead! And even if it was, wouldn't that be good reason alone? Nothing like adding a little insult to injury! Especially since it fits in so well with the pathetic disaster of a project they were working on."
"Well…I have to admit, it does sound rather tempting. But I still think we should quit while we're ahead."
"Quit isn't in my vocabulary, James."
"Neder is 'while we're ahead.'"
"I guess there's no changing your mind, then, is there…?"
With James' apparent weary submission, Jessie smirked and slowly made her way over to Pikachu's crate. Even though he'd been intensely focused on their conversation, her sudden advance still startled him. His cheeks crackled threateningly, if only for good measure.
"Oh, there isn't," she sang, a dark chuckle resonating in her throat. Pikachu wasn't able to deduce what it was they were scheming, but there was no questioning who won the dispute. The worry he'd felt all day came to a head with her shadowy, felonious face alone. "I just wish I could stick around long enough to see the look on that damn brat's face when he finds out just who is responsible for his precious little rat's disappearance…!"
TO BE CONTINUED…
I must admit, it was almost too easy to write Ash in this chapter—I can relate to him. Well, regarding the after-midnight endeavor, not the crazy spin around the soggy, cold meadow (would anyone else do that—really?). Can I tell you how many times my cat has snuck out at night, right before we're all ready to go to bed, and refused to come inside? I know, I know—cats can totally hold their own outdoors. But my cat…he's a tad…reckless. -_-; Like, he loves to dart across the street when cars are coming. And he will confront any creature, regardless of its size. So leaving him to his own devices out there? It's worrying. And annoying. And it has me tossing and turning in bed, having horrible dreams when I do manage to fall asleep for a moment, and going to my front and back door every half-hour calling to him and beseeching him to knock it off and come back inside. Of course, cats loooove the nighttime, so he's probably thinking, "Yeah, right, sucker!" but then by 6 AM, after a dreadful, fitful night's sleep, I stumble to the door yet again and look who comes scurrying in, rubbing against my legs to the point of nearly knocking me over, and meowing ceaselessly, as if to say, "Did you forget about me?" Le sigh. Pets.
So. ^^;; I had Ash take that a step further. Because Ash is always ready to take anything a step further, isn't he? Especially when Pikachu is involved. Who, poor thing, had to spend the night in the Old Simmons Place. *shiver, and yuck*
Tomorrow morning's gonna be a doozy. :) Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism would be divine!