Another four month delay...yeesh, what can I say now? My summer was exceedingly busy and I rarely got a chance to catch my breath, much less work on this story. It certainly never leaves my active to-do list, but with trips, photography assignments, family/friend obligations and exhaustion following all, it unfortunately finds its way onto the back-burner more often than desirable. Life slowed down a bit in September, though, and my muse was reinvigorated by the cooler temperatures and delicious inundation of pumpkin, and the story came alive again. I'm so happy I'm able to bring you a chapter this week of Halloween! I was determined to make it happen.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Pokémon or The Blair Witch Project. I do own the latter on that antique media device known as VHS, though, and while I admit I never viewed the movie on DVD, I'll venture to say it's probably more effectual on tape, anyway. It's not supposed to have crystal clear picture and sharp sound, after all. I'll probably get the DVD someday because VCRs won't be around forever, but for the time being, it's wonderfully sentimental to view the movie the same way I did in 1999.
By the way, have you see the movie yourself, dear reader? If not, please do yourself the favor and take it in this Halloween season. Preferably with the lights off, the neighboring rooms devoid of distractive sound, and not in the presence of small children and their innocent, uncorrupted ears, please. This chapter does contain spoilers for The Blair Witch Project, but you can still enjoy the movie with just as much suspense even if you do read this (and I hope you do, duh ^^;).
Enjoy, and thank you!
SOON BEGINS BEWITCHING
by Spruceton Spook
Chapter 7
"Haunting Motives"
"Ash Ketchum, you are not leaving this house until you have something in your stomach!"
Delia had gone many, many years without having to deal with so much aggravation before seven o'clock in the morning. Ever since her eldest had ventured off on his own to capture and battle pokémon, left to get up and prepare for the day at his own discretion, Delia's mornings had been relatively quiet, pleasant, unhurried. Then Riley was born, and all at once her sunrises were again a whirlwind of cries and feedings and clean-ups she hadn't experienced since she was twenty. She honestly couldn't remember the last peaceful morning she'd had in six months.
But the incessant demands of raising an infant were one thing. Dealing with a stubborn, distraught teenager was another.
Between the chaos of the day before, her husband getting in and out of bed at one point during the night, and Riley's usual fussy, predawn feeding, Delia's night hadn't been the most refreshing. In fact, it was one of the worst she'd had in weeks. As she stumbled down the stairs bleary-eyed and discombobulated, the last thing she'd expected to encounter was Ash scrambling about the ground floor like a lunatic, trying desperately to get stuff together as if he was late in catching an impatiently-waiting school bus.
After a few much-needed seconds to clear her sleepy brain, it all made sense why her son was up and about even before Jay was dressed for work. Ash had attested countless times that the one and only thing that would get him out of bed before sunrise, ever, was pokémon…and even that only applied to particular days. The situation he was harshly dealt the day before certainly pertained, and instantly, Delia's motherly commiseration kicked in.
It became quite clear, however, that the last thing Ash was seeking at the moment was sympathy. He just wanted out of the house. Getting a word in edgewise to her overwrought child during his maniacal preparation was futile, as Ash seemed to zip out of a room just as soon as Delia followed him in. In his hustle to grab belongings, Delia was quickly able to determine that Ash's sanity was not completely in control. His frantic demeanor spoke louder than the noncommittal grunts of response her gentle questions elicited.
Ash couldn't possibly have been up for long. Considering the racket he was currently making, no way would she have slept through it. It didn't look like he got much rest, either. Heavy bags adorned the bases of his eyes and his hair was a terribly uncombed mess, and Delia could have sworn it looked as though he slept in the clothes he was wearing. To put it bluntly, the kid looked like hell. Enough so that she knew she had to step in to calm him down and make sure he was okay before he set out to search for Pikachu. She was going to need luck to do it, though. Because Ash wasn't listening to a word she said.
It was when he found his way into the kitchen and began tearing cabinets open that Delia, meekly, asked the basic question of what he'd had for breakfast. A quick scan showed no dirty dishes or open boxes of cereal, and if Ash was too impatient to even tie his shoelaces (Delia cringed every time he bolted out of a room, waiting for the inevitable trip and fall), there was no way he would have tidied up the kitchen after a hasty breakfast.
Lo and behold, he'd spoken, but it wasn't the answer Delia wanted: "Nothing. Taking it with me."
And that's when Delia's attitude promptly shifted from curious onlooker to unyielding parent, because while she had no qualms about Ash going out so early to look for Pikachu, there was absolutely no way he was going to do so on an empty stomach—especially after she recalled dumping most of his dinner into the trash or refrigerator containers. Unfortunately, Ash did not share her concern about his lack of sustenance, instead insisting that the two small granola bars he took from the snack drawer would hold him over—if he felt like eating. And that's when the upheaval ensued.
"You're at least having a glass of milk or juice or something!" Delia persisted, standing over Ash as he sat at the base of the stairs, finally attending to his shoelaces.
"I said I don't need anything," he replied firmly, never regarding her as he hopped up and nearly crashed into his hovering mother. He swept his backpack over his shoulder and slipped past Delia determinedly, but before he could even reach out for the doorknob, he was yanked back with enough unexpected force that he let out a surprised yelp.
"I didn't ask you if you needed anything, I'm telling you that you have to eat or drink something before you leave," she reiterated, her sharp tone begrudgingly holding his attention.
Her face then softened, as did her grip on his arm. "Honey, I'm worried about you. You barely ate a thing yesterday. You can't do that again today—you're going to get sick. I know you're upset and you want to get out of here, but please…I can't let you go without making sure you're up for it."
Breathing restlessly, Ash's bloodshot eyes bore into her own afflicted ones. Buried underneath his goaded look, not unnoticed by his mother, was a deeper, more powerful guise of panic and exhaustion. Her heart clenching at the sight, she tenderly stroked the side of his face, hopeful that her consolation would win over Ash's blind tenacity.
"How about some hot cocoa, baby?"
Stealing a fidgety glance at the patio doors and the bright, beckoning morning, Ash didn't reply.
"It's cold out there. It'll fill you up and warm your stomach."
Finally, he exhaled deeply. "Only if I can take it with me," he answered quietly. He quickly looked back at her. "Please?"
Delia had hoped that sitting him down for some cocoa would have detained him for at least a good ten minutes, enough to let him take it easy and clear his disordered head, but by the look she was getting, she had to settle for this. Nodding, she swiftly made her way to the kitchen to prepare a travel mug for him.
Ironically, as soon as she was gone, Ash's stomach clenched painfully in hunger, nearly taking him by surprise. Right then, the thought of the hot, filling drink was covertly more appealing, but at the same time served to heighten his impatience. Cocoa only took a few minutes to make, but for Ash, it was a few minutes too many. After a full twenty-four hours without his precious companion, and especially after the discouraging incident with Jay the previous night, Ash felt like he was going to explode out of his skin if he didn't get out there soon.
What surprised him the most was the fact that he had actually been able to sleep. Though he recalled a few vague dreams, Ash's deep, coma-like slumber had carried him into early dawn. When he awoke, he'd found himself splayed on the couch still in the clothes he'd thrown messily on the night before. His shoes had been removed, however, and a blanket had been laid generously over him. His father had obviously taken great care to make sure he'd remained comfortable and asleep, but Ash considered it for no more than a moment as he remembered what he needed to undertake. Seeing that he'd luckily been granted a decent day for his search, he'd wasted no time in dashing around the house to assemble what he needed for his mission.
Food, for the first time ever it seemed, was merely an afterthought.
"Ash?"
Ash started at the soft, cautious voice that suddenly came floating from atop the stairs. There, still dressed in her rumpled pajamas, was Misty, fixing him an astonished look.
"Are you going out already?" she asked.
Ash bit his lip as her tone generated a sudden burst of guilt. It wasn't that he didn't want his friends' help or company, but in the hustle of his unsystematic morning, they honestly hadn't lingered long in his mind. He was the only one up at the time, and whether he didn't have the heart to awaken anyone else or didn't believe he had the time to do so, he'd unconsciously made the decision to prepare and head out alone.
"Yeah, I was," he replied. "I'm waiting for Mom to make me some cocoa; then I'm going."
"I want to come with you," she declared.
"Misty—" the dispute came rolling off his tongue impulsively.
"Don't go anywhere," she ordered, backing up toward her room as she kept her gaze firmly on him. "I'll just be a few minutes; I'm just gonna get dressed."
She disappeared before he had a chance to further argue, but Ash figured the argument would have been useless, anyway. Come to think of it, why did he want to argue? Of course he wanted Misty with him; of course he wanted her help! It was just the waiting, he realized and reassured himself—the unbearable anxiety that was stupidly overriding his common sense. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he bid himself imperatively to chill. Just a few more minutes, just a few more minutes...
Mere seconds after she fled to get ready, Jay emerged from his bedroom and descended the stairs. Ash's nerves instantly tensed at the sight of him. Undoubtedly, he was the last person Ash wanted to run into that morning, as he was unsure if bad vibes were still brewing between them. But despite the fracas only hours before, a kindly smile brightened Jay's face as soon as he spotted Ash.
"Hey," he greeted airily. Before Ash could respond, Jay plopped a hand on his head, making the boy shy away slightly. "You sleep good, there?"
"Uh, yeah," Ash mumbled, his chin dipping towards his chest under the weight of his dad's hand until he took it away. Seeing him all decked out in his typical work clothes reminded Ash of how early it actually was. It was a rare event for him to rise before Jay.
"Sorry I didn't bring you up to your bed," Jay apologized. He gave him a crooked smile. "Gettin' just a tad too heavy for me now."
"It's fine. I slept okay."
"Good. You needed it."
What I need is to get out of here, Ash sighed to himself. He craned his head around Jay's frame and peered toward the kitchen, seeking out Delia and the blasted cocoa that was taking way too long.
"Where are you going to look today?" Jay asked.
Ash held back a perturbed huff. He didn't want to talk about his plans, he wanted to carry out his plans. Still, seeing as how his cocoa was obviously not ready and his dad wouldn't let his inquiry go unanswered, he obliged, "Same places as yesterday, I guess. Places I couldn't get to with the rain. And I'm gonna knock on the neighbors' doors, too—all over. See if anyone found him yesterday and took him in to get 'im out of the rain."
In the pandemonium of the day before, it was something Ash hadn't factored into the equation; now, the chance of some kind stranger graciously taking in a lost and hopeless pikachu had reinvigorated his thinning optimism.
But he didn't get the "good idea, son," or the "good luck" he thought Jay would have automatically returned. Instead, his father paused, seeming to reflect intensely upon his itinerary. Ash could have sworn there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. "All right," he said lightly. Then, to Ash's shock, he bent over and gave him a kiss on the head, none too concise, either. "Be careful, okay, buddy?"
For an instant, Ash could only gape at his dad for the unusual overly-affectionate gesture. "I—I will," he faltered.
"You let your mom know what your plans are. Keep her in the loop, all right? Don't have her worrying, not knowing where you are."
Ash nodded. "Okay."
"When you find Pikachu, give me a call right away?"
"Sure thing."
Another look, still tinted with that ambiguous shade of defeat, and another heavy, fond hand placed upon his head. This time, Ash didn't duck away. With one last gentle tousle, Jay smiled and ambled into the kitchen. Ash watched him as he went, baffled by his father's behavior. Why the long faces, the tenderness, the excessively benign tone? Was Jay trying to make up for last night? Did he pity him for his situation?
Did he not have faith in Ash's endeavor?
Ash expelled the doubt from his mind swiftly. It didn't matter what other people thought, anyhow. He was going to find Pikachu today. He had that promising new plan to hold on to, after all. Thinking about it again retriggered his restlessness.
"Mom!" he shouted edgily. "Where's my cocoa? C'mon!"
"It's coming!" she called back, and Ash could hear the clanking of a pan on the stove. His eyes widened. Wait—had she not started the cocoa yet? No, no—that couldn't be it. She wouldn't have done that to him. "It's still warming up! Just another minute!"
"Hurry up," he whined. Ash clenched his jaw as soon as he heard how childishly shrill that came out. But seriously, since when did it take so long to heat up cocoa?
"Ash."
His head jerked up as Misty's voice took him by surprise a second time. She was perched in same spot at the landing but this time, thankfully, she was dressed, looking alert and ready to go.
"Brock's up. He's coming, too."
Ash threw his hands up. "Is he ready?" he cried.
"He's getting ready right now."
"Ugh!"
"I told him to hurry!" Misty assured.
But that didn't help mollify Ash. His intolerance was climaxing now. It was just one delay after another after another. True, the total duration of the setback had been less than ten minutes, but for Ash, it felt like an eternity. It was starting to almost seem like they wanted to stall him. And here he was, just allowing it to happen, bending to all their requests for him to hold up. What was he doing? He needed to find Pikachu!
"No! That's it!" he finally exclaimed. "I'm going! I'm not waiting any longer!"
He marched for the front door, ignoring Misty's prompt cry for him to wait. Sorry, Misty, he thought rather unapologetically, there would be no more waiting. They'd have to catch up. Or leave him alone to do this himself. If they weren't going to recognize the urgency of this, then he didn't need the extra burden of their indifference.
But it didn't take long for him to be stopped again—no more than a few seconds, and no further than his front stoop. The sight before Ash arrested him harshly in his tracks, so much that even when the chase-giving Misty crashed right into him from behind, his feet barely displaced an inch.
"Ash!" she shrieked, beyond irritated not only by his sudden departure but by his even more sudden halt. "What the hell are you—"
And that's when she saw what he did. It could have been easy to dismiss; in an artistically-manicured yard such as the Ketchums', one might have thought it was purposely, if oddly, sited. But for the two round-eyed kids, it was something glaringly out-of-place. As well as hauntingly familiar—they instantly identified what it was, or rather, what it was supposed to be.
Planted across the front walkway in a rather scrupulously-fashioned triangle were three neat, brimming piles of stones.
Piles of stones that looked exactly like the grave markings from the primitive burial ground in The Blair Witch Project.
Piles of stones eerily akin to the three stacks found outside the unlucky filmmakers' tent one morning. Those had been a surprise—a bombshell of an omen of sinister things to come. An unwelcomed gift from a sardonic witch looking for a little cruel fun before the imminent hunt.
He might have been slow on the uptake at times—and that was an underestimation, sorry to say for the teenager. But this time around, it wasn't difficult for that connection to form. It happened so fast and fluently, in fact, that the chill that ran up Ash's spine overrode any vexation he might have felt from this additional interruption.
He could hear Misty panting behind him; whether out of breath from her short pursuit or out of pure alarm, he couldn't tell.
"What is that?" she asked tensely.
Ash stared at the rocks, his eyes roaming from one precise mound to the next, trying to clear his mind enough to make sense of what he was beholding. They looked so harmless laying there amidst the dew-kissed lawn, the sun gleaming off the smooth edges of the rounder stones, but all they brought upon him was an engulfing swell of dread.
"Where did those come from?" Misty demanded, the sharp crescendo in her tone matching his mounting distress.
"I don't know," he answered.
It surely was a good question. He didn't recall seeing them when he tried sneaking out of the house hours before. Certainly, he would have noticed them—hell, he would have tripped over them, considering where they were settled! They weren't exactly in an inconspicuous spot, and he was too infamous for his clumsiness. That recipe alone would have made the stumble inevitable.
Just like the rocks the witch left outside the tent… he thought, and he was positive the same association was being made in his all-too-versed-in-things-Blair-Witch girlfriend's mind.
"Ash!" Misty's feverish snap let him know that wasn't the response she was hoping for. Oh yeah, she was definitely making the correlation. No doubt about it.
"I don't know!" he cried, turning to her. "I don't know where they came from! They weren't here last night!"
"So then when did they show up?" she hollered, as if he knew all the answers. The whites of her eyes flaring, it was the most frightened he'd seen her since he'd shined the camcorder light in her face two nights back in the tent. "Ash, where did those come from?"
Ash's palms flew to his face. Her alarm combined with his disorientation was too overwhelming. His fingers parted over his eyes, and he once again directed his focus on the piles, surveying them, trying desperately to confirm to himself with absolute certitude that they were not there when he'd left the house for his failed twilight mission.
"Misty...I didn't see these last night."
"Neither did I!"
"No, I mean… I was out here. Later on. And I didn't—they weren't here."
"When, later on?"
"Like midnight," he said, meeting her gaze. Her ashen face lit up in mild surprise. "I—I was out here then…and I didn't see them."
"Are you sure?" she implored, completely bypassing asking why he was wandering around his front yard at that hour of the night.
"Yes!" he insisted, fairly confident in his inference. "I'm sure! I know I would have seen them. I walked right down there!"
"Well, how long were you out here?"
"Not long at all," he replied. "Just a few minutes, and then Dad came out to get me, and..."
Ash's account was cut short as his heart took a staggering leap in his chest. Suddenly, things made sense. They made too much sense. Of course—of course! How stupid of him to have taken this long to figure it out! As the insight became clearer, his short-lived fright was replaced with a sensation of anger so swift and so powerful it made every nerve in his limbs quiver. Furiously, he pushed past Misty, causing her to yelp and jump aside, and stormed into the house.
"DAD!" he roared.
Jay came rushing out of the kitchen at his son's heated shout, Delia not far behind. "What, what? What is it?" he asked anxiously.
"How could you?" Ash spat.
Taken aback by the volume of Ash's voice and the livid glare that accompanied it, Jay blinked a few times in flustered confusion. "How could I what?" he sputtered.
"Do that!"
"Do what?"
"You know what!" Ash snarled.
His eyes wide with stupefaction, Jay could only throw his arms up into the air in a helpless shrug. "What are you talking about?" he demanded desperately. When he'd heard Ash's initial cry, his first thought was that Pikachu had been found. Running in to find his son practically doubled over in rage, his eyes narrowed with unchecked contempt and his face red as a tomato, and all at him, was startling, to say the least.
"What you did last night!" charged Ash vaguely again. Only this time, the boy pointed fiercely to the front door as he did so. Jay hesitated none in taking the clue and hurried past Ash to see just what the hell he'd allegedly done wrong.
Misty had been standing in the entranceway, pale, silent, and unsettled, but she quickly cleared a path for him to make the discovery on his own. Much like the kids, Jay noticed right away the source of the hubbub. He frowned as he looked down at the mysterious stone piles, questions of his own immediately springing to his head. It was clear to him, too, what they were intended to emulate, but that was just about all he knew about them.
Except, of course, that he had nothing to do with them being there.
"Ash," he started.
"Dad, how could you do that?"
Jay spun around and tramped back into the house. "Ash, I didn't do that!"
Maybe he wasn't exactly expecting Ash to calm down after hearing this, because there was still the slightly eerie situation as to where the piles came from. But he at least figured it would clear the air and put a stop to this silly impugnation his son was hurling at him.
What he got instead was the complete opposite.
"Yes, you did!" The counterclaim only seemed to have made Ash madder, and the flabbergasted father nearly staggered back when his seething son came striding challengingly forward. "I get it now! When you found me leaving the house! You weren't down here because you heard me get up! You were coming down to put these stupid rocks out on the lawn!"
"Ash, no—" Jay tried to interrupt.
"That's why you wanted me to come in! Why you made sure I fell asleep before you left!" Ash continued hysterically, his voice peaking with each adjunct to this elaborate indictment. "You just didn't want me to see you putting them out. You didn't want me to catch you trying to mess around with our movie again!"
"ASH!" Jay boomed, trying to drown out Ash's tirade. But even his harsh tone didn't daunt his son's insurgent momentum.
"It's not funny!" the boy exclaimed, throwing his clenched, white-knuckled fists down. His developing voice cracked with an emergence of emotion, and for a second Jay half-expected him to burst into tears. "We're not even doing the movie anymore! And even if we were, how could you do that to me when Pikachu is missing?"
"Would you listen to me—!" tried Jay again, his patience quickly beginning to wane. He could feel his blood pressure spike with every futile attempt at getting a word in to his out-of-control son.
"It's not funny anymore!"
"ASH, SHUT UP!"
The teen's head whipped back at the thunderous outburst, instantly silenced. For a second, he just stood there, looking more indignant than chastised at the order. Jay, relieved but well past provoked now, was about to capitalize off the break, but Ash was too quick to recover. Aiming a dark, stanch scowl at Jay, Ash arched his shoulders and adjusted his backpack.
"I'm going to look for Pikachu," he growled conclusively, trudging toward the front door. "Come on, Misty."
Jay was dumbfounded enough to let him pass by, but before Ash could drag the disoriented Misty out into the yard, he managed to find his tongue.
"Hey, hey, hey—hold it right there!"
Ash whirled to face him, that same bold, toxic look sullying his young face. Jay was completely floored by his stance. Though willing to walk out on the altercation, Ash clearly wasn't about to recant his accusation, either.
"That's it?" Jay scoffed. "You're just gonna walk away, after that?"
Ash blew out noisily from his nose and continued to glower.
"Oh, no you don't," Jay warned, pointing a finger directly at his flushed son. "You'd better be careful who you chuck accusations at, kid. No way in hell are you going to do that to me and just walk out that door."
"I don't have time for this anymore!" Ash spat. "I need to go out to look for Pikachu."
Trying hard to suppress his percolating temper, Jay shook his head and wagged the jutted finger. "No, no. We're settling this before you go anywhere.
"I do not appreciate being accused of something I didn't do," he lectured as evenly as he could. Ash listened, still glaring. "And I don't appreciate you not believing me when I tell you I had nothing to do with those rocks sitting out there. That was completely uncalled for, and you know it. So you're going to accept that, and you're going to apologize to me, and then you can go out and look for Pikachu."
"Why should I?" Another sour reply Jay had not anticipated.
"Why should you?" he echoed incredulously. "For starters, you have no proof! Unless you have proof to back yourself up, you do not go around accusing people of doing things!"
"I have proof!" Ash attested.
Jay made a face. "Oh, yeah? And what is that—that this just looks like something I'd do, so that automatically means I did it?"
"Yes!"
"And why would I do that to you, huh?" Jay demanded, his voice rattling off the walls of the tiny house. "Why?"
"Because you're an asshole!"
Jay barely had time to react. As soon as the cutting, impassioned remark shot through Ash's teeth, the boy hightailed—at the same time Delia shrieked "JAY, STOP!" as loudly as she could probably manage. Perhaps he was about to instinctively go after the kid and she realized it before he even did. Whatever the case, Jay found himself forcibly checked at her piercing command, watching his son flee almost powerlessly.
Misty, stunned and still idling in the doorway, could only gape at the two adults.
"Misty, go—be with him," Delia immediately told her.
It took but a second for Jay to rebound. "No!" he objected, his ire this time aimed at the shaken girl. "No! You go and bring him back!"
Conflicted with the two diverse demands being thrown at her, Misty's eyes darted fitfully between Delia and Jay. "Uh…"
"No, she won't!" Delia snapped at her husband. It was clear who was now taking control of this situation, and Jay could only reel back. When Delia looked back at Misty, her voice softened but still rang firm. "Misty, it's okay. Go help Ash look for Pikachu."
Misty appeared more than ready to comply, but suddenly her attention was drawn up the stairs. Barreling down noisily came Brock, looking about as discombobulated as the rest of them. He'd obviously rushed, as his arms weren't even completely through his pull-over sweatshirt, but he didn't even have a second to solicit details about the upheaval.
"Brock, c'mon!" Misty bid frantically, grabbing his hand. "Let's go."
"Wuh-wait! Misty! I, uh—a-all right!" he stammered as she hauled him out into the sunshine.
And just like that, the house was purged of commotion, save for the dense, awkward wake of what had just transpired. Jay, winded, could only gape at the front door, trying to compose himself and make sense of the vicious storm that had just blown through his living room.
Despite his incensed fixation, he could feel his wife's eyes burning into his back. Sure enough: "Jay," she said, slicing through the intense hush, "calm down."
Aghast, Jay turned to her. "Are you kidding me?" he bellowed. He was already pissed that she'd managed to detain him and let Ash get away; being told to settle as if he were the perpetrator was the last thing he would take hearing. "You're telling me to calm down? After the stunt your son just pulled, you want me to calm down?"
"He's not in his right mind right now," Delia said coolly, standing firm, unaffected by her husband's red-faced fury.
"I don't care what state of mind he's in! He has no right to talk to me like that!"
"Jay? Stop yelling and calm down," she warned.
"No! I am not going to calm down!" he shouted mulishly and, in his view, justly.
Delia's glare deepened as her levelness finally splintered. "Yes, you are! You're going to take deep breaths and count to ten or twenty or a hundred or whatever it is you need to do, and you're going to back off. Whether you like it or not!"
With that, she turned and forged into the kitchen, all but terminating the issue. Jay faltered for a second, stunned, then stormed in after her, the floorboards of the house quaking under his feet. Like he was going to allow it to end just like that! It was one thing to be so unfairly defamed by his son, but to let his too-tolerant, peace-making wife force him to dismiss the umbrage he was entitled to was completely unacceptable.
"I don't understand how you can just expect me to let him get away with all of that," he snarled. In the back of his mind, he knew it would be favorable to his defense to try to get a hold of himself, lower his voice, and take on this discord maturely. But dammit, if his burning resentment wasn't going to let that happen at all.
Delia began to clear some items off the counter. "Let it go, Jay. I mean it."
"Did you hear what he accused me of?" Jay pointed angrily towards the direction in which Ash had taken off.
"Jay..."
"What he called me?"
"Jacey!" she turned and ground out harshly. "Let. It. Go!"
The potency of her order finally managed to quiet Jay. An icy staring contest commenced, Jay's infuriation and Delia's unyielding resolve to rein him in curdling in the small gap between them.
"I'm really glad you're willing to brush off what just happened so easily," Jay finally said bitterly.
"He didn't mean it," she reasoned, digging in.
"Just because he didn't mean it doesn't erase the fact that he did it!"
"Jay," she sighed, "any other day, I wouldn't tolerate it any less than you would. But you have to give him a pass today. He's going through something terrible right now and he needs your support."
Jay huffed. "Well, he's going about it in a very bad way, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, but you have to get a hold of yourself," Delia reiterated. "You have to calm down. You're the adult."
"Oh, I see. So just because I'm the adult, it's okay for me to screamed and cursed at, but not speak up for myself? I don't really think that's fair."
"Too bad," she replied bluntly. "Get over it and focus on doing the right thing now."
"Which is?"
"Helping him out instead of being a bully."
A bully? Is that what he was? Jay bristled. Since when did defending his reputation and being a father to his rage-blinded son make him a bully?
"Fine. Fine. Okay," he shrugged scathingly. "I'll just get over the fact that my son accused me of playing a cruel and nasty joke in the midst of his crisis like I'm some kind of heartless bastard. Or asshole, to quote him. No problem."
"You know what, Jay?" Delia said. His derisiveness was only grating her more. "I'm assuming those rocks or whatever it is out there has something to do with that awful movie, right? Right? Well, if that's the case, then quite frankly I don't blame him for thinking what he did."
Jay blinked at her, astonished at the statement, before sneering. "Thanks a lot, Delia."
"Well, it's true!" she insisted, planting her hands on her hips. "After all the tricks you pulled on those poor children the past few days, this does look like something right up your alley!"
Jay's comeback was sucked right back down his throat. Despite his cresting resentment, he wasn't too far gone to refute her point. And she wasn't even including the confidential prank at the Old Simmons Place! It would be explicable for an outsider to suggest he was indeed the culprit as well, given the plenteous past evidence, but this was his family. This was his son, who knew better. He was hotheaded and worked up for sure, but it was still crazy for Ash to think that Jay would ever, ever do something so insensitive. Delia, too.
"Well, you can and go and believe whatever you want," he frowned. "I didn't do it." It sounded churlish, but it was the truth, and he wasn't going to let any doubt in that remain.
"I didn't say you did."
"You're still taking Ash's side, though! How could you do that? How could you defend him for being so disrespectful to me?"
"I'm not taking his side!" she argued, harmonizing the mounting volume of his outbursts. "I just said I understand where he's coming from! You shouldn't be so angry because you shouldn't be surprised, Jay! You brought this upon yourself; you can't deny that!"
"I brought nothing upon myself!" Jay fumed.
"You created this reputation for yourself and now you're mad it's being thrown back at you!"
Jay scrubbed a hand down his face and shook his head. "It's not like that at all…" he grumbled.
"If you hadn't started this stupid Blair Witch nonsense in the first place, we wouldn't even be dealing with this right now!"
That extra allegation made his head snap up. "Oh, that's great!" Jay narrowed his eyes. "So basically you're saying even though it's not my fault, it's still my fault."
"That movie has brought nothing but—but…negativity to this house ever since you watched it!"
"What negativity? We were just having fun! It was just a bunch of stupid pranks and messing around!"
"Yes, until now, where apparently the pranks have started performing themselves!"
It was the way Delia had mordantly presented it which silenced Jay. Pranks performing themselves…well, how utterly absurd that was. Obviously, someone was the culprit. Someone cruel enough or stupid enough to throw their hat into the ring at exactly the wrong time. But that was just the thing…no one in the household could possibly fit either description. No one would dare tamper with Ash's very, very fragile psyche.
"Yeah, performing themselves," Jay snorted dismissively.
"Well, so who did do it?" Delia asked the million-dollar question.
"Wouldn't I love to know."
"It wasn't me," she said defensively, needlessly.
"Never thought it was you, dearest. And apparently Ash didn't, either! Lucky you!"
Delia ignored the jab. "I can't believe it would be one of the kids. It'd be too unlike them."
"It wasn't one of them—I'd've seen it. Well, unless they did it after one-thirty!"
Delia paused at that remark, giving him a baffled look. "You were up until one-thirty?"
"Oh, you didn't know?" Jay perked. He couldn't help a sardonic chuckle and a clap of his hands. "Yeah, if it wasn't for me, your son would've been wandering all over Pallet Town all hours of the night last night."
The stern edge was finally wiped entirely from his wife's features. "What?"
"Yup," Jay folded his arms. "Heard him get up a little after midnight. Caught him trying to leave the house to go look for Pikachu."
"Oh my God," Delia groaned, her forehead finding its way into her palm. "Is that what he was talking about just now? About you being up late to plot all this?"
"You mean screaming about? Yes. So maybe you'll give me a break now for being a little riled up that my last seven hours entailed hauling myself out of bed after midnight to drag Ash back into the house, then staying up for an hour more to make sure he got to sleep okay, and then being violently blamed for something I absolutely had nothing to do with by the same kid just a few hours later."
Delia groaned again. Maybe her husband's infuriation was warranted, but at the same time he wasn't exactly famous for a slow-to-anger disposition. She didn't regret a single thing she'd done that morning to snuff his short fuse. Maybe she could have stepped in more in checking Ash's explosion, but Jay definitely had the greater capability of making things a lot uglier than they already were.
"Jay, look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry he's driving you crazy right now. But I don't take back what I said about you having to calm down and move on. It's over now."
"Oh, it's far from over," Jay interrupted heatedly, to which Delia's heavy frown returned.
"Yes, it is—it's over! There's going to be no more fighting. We're going to get over all this nonsense and focus on finding Pikachu—and that means you, too! Forget about all of it and start helping out your little boy."
"Start helping out my little boy," Jay echoed, shaking his head. He looked down at his watch and threw his arms up in resignation. "I'm leaving for work in ten minutes! What am I supposed to do?"
Delia paused for a moment before her brow arched and an expectant look crept to her face. Jay just glared deeper. She had to be kidding. After all of that, this is what she expected him to enlist in?
"Oh, God, what—now you're saying I shouldn't go to work?" he griped wearily.
His wife, who had so much to say just seconds ago, had no words to offer now. But the dip of her head and the persuasive tic of a smile she was suddenly giving him spoke loud enough. Jay drooped, feeling begrudgingly and bitterly swayed.
Un-frigging-believable, he grumbled to himself.
Despite their quarrel and her unabashed throw of support to Ash's corner, he couldn't help but allow that kittenish smile to soften away the edges of his irritation. Allow…it was more like her expression had taken his ire and dunked it in a bucket of warm, soapy potion called "It's Time to Stop Being Mad Now."
With a subtle lift of her shoulders, she just added a dash of "You Know What You Need to Do."
"Geez…" He took a deep breath and his hands fell to his sides with a slap. When it all boiled down to it, did he really have a choice? "All right. All right! I guess...I'm not going to work today." The concession didn't come out all that cheerfully.
Nonetheless, Delia's brown eyes crinkled. "That would be nice."
"Uh-huh," he surrendered, turning to head to his bedroom. "Terrific... Okay, well… I guess I'm going to go get changed and…head out there to help Ash look for Pikachu, then."
"Thank you. And I'm sorry," Delia said again, sincerely. Jay knew she meant it. Reluctantly—or maybe not so much—he accepted it, both from her as well as on behalf of Ash. He knew he needed to, and it didn't entirely have to do with her influence. He could not picture himself heading out to face Ash and offer his help without feeling somewhat vindicated. He still had his pride to maintain. All he could hope for now was that Ash received Jay's surprise appearance and truce kindly, and a repeat performance wasn't forthcoming. Because it went without question that he wouldn't fare well in tolerating it a second time, and Delia wouldn't be around to blow any crucial whistles.
As Jay ascended the stairs, two prominent goals were established in his head. One was that if Pikachu was around and could be found, he would be. The anxiety and unhappiness poisoning his family needed to end—immediately.
After that, he was going to find out just who did have the gall to execute the rock-pile hoax that, under different circumstances, Jay would have perceived as brilliant.
Jessie was so spectacularly over the moon she thought she was going to burst.
She had to contain herself, though. After everything that had happened so fabulously and flawlessly, blowing their cover now because she gave in to the strong urges to leap up and dance around in gleeful achievement would not be all that advantageous. Even resisting the desire to cackle out loud was proving to be torture. It would all have to wait till later, when they were back in the haven of that rickety, old, putrid house that had recently become their castle of pride.
But Jessie couldn't leave just yet, couldn't take her eyes off the Ketchum home. For that glorious moment, all she wanted to do was bask in the glowing residuum of her latest triumph. It was there, merely minutes ago, that she was finally awarded the luscious fruit of her labors. It wound up being worth it to get up before dawn, even on top of stumbling back to the house very late—how many hours had she slept, in all the anticipation—three, four? Except for the hideous black circles devastating her beautiful eyes, the sacrifice had paid off handsomely. For what she had just been bestowed was far more awesome than she could have asked for.
Her jaw aching from her colossal grin, she turned to James. "Was that not just the most marvelous thing ever?" she squealed dizzily.
Her partner, who was not coping as well with the lack of sleep, offered a bleary look. "But Jessie, I thought you wanted the twerp to be scared? He was more angry than anything…"
"It wasn't exactly what I planned," Jessie admitted. "But I dare say this outcome was better!"
It would have been hilarious to see the three children wet their pants over her cleverly crafted work, certainly. But the screaming match that ensued in the otherwise nauseatingly peaceful household turned out to be a much more appealing result. Okay, so the twerp didn't fall for her intended ruse, but for him to condemn his insufferable old man of performing her dirty deed? Jessie couldn't remember the last time she witnessed something so entertaining.
Good for him! she'd thought vengefully of Jay, and it'd felt so good. Who cared if it'd meant cheering on the brat? Jessie had been starting to wonder whom she actually loathed more.
James looked unconvinced, though. "But…wasn't the whole point of this for the twerps to get so scared that something was haunting them that they'd be afraid to step foot outside and we'd be able to make a completely clean getaway?"
"Well, yes—"
"But they're out there searching for Pikachu now!" James suddenly cried in the high-pitch voice that only emerged when he was either elated or panicked. "The plan didn't work at all!"
Hearing him all but hail her scheme as a failure, Jessie prickled with defensiveness. "James, must you suck all the joy out of a wonderfully devastating domestic dispute?" she growled. "So what if it didn't work this time? That's why we have Plan B!"
"Plan B?" James blinked. "You have a plan B?"
"Of course I have a plan B!" Jessie crossed her arms, affronted. "When have you ever known me to go into something without a plan B?"
"All those times you thought Plan A was infallible?"
"Hey! It wasn't like I devised all those plans myself," she pointed out. "And what difference does it make now? I have a plan B for this." Arching her eyes smugly, she added, "And a few more after that, in fact. Who would've thought that silly little movie would provide so many brilliant ideas to use?"
"I wouldn't know."
"Of course you wouldn't," Jessie couldn't help but smirking. "You insisted on sneaking into that sappy poochyena movie instead."
James looked like he'd just been punched in the gut before his face fell. "That poor poochyena…"
"Right, that poor poochyena," Jessie rolled her eyes. Leave it to James to pass up a much talked-about horror flick for a theater packed with shrieking preschoolers. But that was all inconsequential now. When she'd seen the movie, it had merely been for leisure; she didn't know that years later it would serve as a valuable component in her winning move for Pikachu. It was just ironic the way life worked out.
It was time to get back to business. "Fine, so the plan didn't work the way it was supposed to." She beamed as she thought of what she had in store next. "But tonight's plan is guaranteed to work. Those kids are going to absolutely freak out! Just you wait!"
Maybe it was just the dread of another late night, but James did not look to be onboard. "Jessie, it's not that I doubt your plan…but don't you think we should start thinking about...heading to headquarters with Pikachu? You said we were going to go today."
"I said that when I thought the rock piles were going to work. How was I to know the goody-goody twerp and his father apparently have trust issues?"
"But the longer we stay here, the less of a chance we have of escaping," James replied, the panicked pitch in his voice returning. "They could be at the house right now searching! Meowth wouldn't stand a chance all by himself!"
Jessie's stomach did a small flip at that visualization. She did have to confess that she was placing a little too much blind faith in the assumption that the kids would not think—or dare—to check the dilapidated house. Then again, she really didn't think they'd be searching the area at all this morning. Maybe she had expected too much from her scheme...maybe James was entitled to freak a touch. After all, this pastoral little locality wasn't all that big. If the kids really did believe Pikachu was findable, and nearby, what was stopping them from sooner or later searching what could be seen as a prime hideout...?
Now her heart began to pound. Great—James was getting to her, driving her nuts—just what she needed. Gritting her teeth, she chose not to respond, turning her attention back to the house and the delightful recollection of what had just happened there, and instantly felt the weight of the frightfully plausible likelihood lift.
But James was too serious and unrelenting to shut up just yet. "We should get back to the house and prepare to leave as soon as it gets dark," he advised quietly, though his tone made it sound more like a suggestion. "We could get far tonight."
Jessie squeezed her eyes shut and tried to tune him out.
"If we take turns sleeping now, one of us keeping watch for the twerps, we could have six, eight hours tonight to get to headquarters."
And it wouldn't even take that long, Jessie acknowledged. The base they'd determined would be best to hand Pikachu over and get the credit they had been pining for was situated just outside Celadon City. Before sunrise, their mission could be complete. It was tempting...not to mention logical…
"We could get there tonight," James revised emphatically, as if realizing it the same moment she did. "There'd be no need for Plan B! We wouldn't need to spend another night in that awful house! We'd be home free, Jessie! We could get out of here—with Pikachu! We'd win! Finally!"
Jessie didn't know why, but for some bizarre reason, she hated how convincing his argument was coming across. And she hated that she did hate it. What in the world was wrong with her? A few days ago, if she'd known the superlative position they were in, being anywhere but headquarters would have seemed incongruous. To have the burden and stress of their years-long mission, more difficult than it ever should have ever been, eliminated from their lives and replaced ultimately with recognition and maybe even reward, should have easily superseded any other endeavor.
Of course, she didn't regret spending the day before and the past night in the abandoned house; the weather had been simply dreadful. But now? Honestly, what was her excuse now?
It was straightforward—at least in her mind, self-indulgent as it was. She could not shake the euphoric surge of fulfillment that had coursed through her veins when she witnessed the Ketchum household break down due to her deviously artful antics. Putting out the rock piles had been so much fun to begin with; to get that end product following what had been the most fluid (she still couldn't believe how easy it had been!) heist of Pikachu, it was the cherry on top of a tantalizing sundae of victory.
She wanted more of it.
A tiny little part of her was glad that Plan A hadn't worked the way they entirely wanted it to...because then there wouldn't be a need for Plan B, which, she thought giddily, was even more dastardly perfect than A. Plan B could easily accomplish what they'd wanted A to—that being, mess with the twerps' heads enough to distract them from their retreat, as well as fool them into thinking that perhaps there was something not-so-entirely-fictional roaming the surrounding woods.
Another clash between the boy and his father would be gratifying, too. But just as helpful? Well, maybe not there.
"Jessie...?"
But could she convince James otherwise? He was really starting to be a black downpour on her dazzling parade. His prudence was just frustrating. He was too damn pessimistic, too worried. And yet, too...right. Jessie twirled a finger around a wisp of her windblown hair, still keeping her eyes off her partner. She could picture the grave, pleading look he was probably directing her way that second. What she needed was a moment to think. How was she going to sway James from his truly sound proposal to one that was going to result in the same exact outcome, only with a slight delay but a great deal more amusement?
"It's another day the boss thinks we haven't done our job."
What's one more day? Jessie wanted to spit at him. But she couldn't bring herself to do that, because...James was right—again. Despite the hundreds, if not thousands, of open action items being carried out by Team Rocket agents daily, the boss always seemed to be keeping tabs on them, on their stagnant progress on capturing Pikachu. Getting him off their backs and on his good side was now, for all intents and purposes, a dream come true, not just a mission accomplished. Was it really wise to screw around with something they needed rather...desperately?
It's not fair, she thought petulantly as she felt rationale begrudgingly starting to win her over. Dammit, why could she never have her cake and eat it, too?
She couldn't put off James forever, but just as she was about to open her mouth to give some sort of deferring response, the two were distracted by sudden noise coming from the Ketchum home. Jessie and James impulsively shrank back as the front door swung open aggressively (my, this was one chafed family this morning!), and out stormed none other than the man of the hour himself.
In a rare display, Jessie grinned from ear to ear at the sight of the twerp's father. "Well, well, well, look who we have here! If it isn't Mr. Rock Planter!" She chuckled quietly. "Thank you ever so much for taking the heat for me! It was extremely generous of you...loser!"
In spite of leaving the house so purposefully, Jay held up when approaching the rock piles. Jessie bounced on the balls of her feet as he glared fiercely down at her work of art, loving every second of his visible perturbation.
"That's right, take a good look at my wondrous talent and creativity!" she gloated. "Notice the attention to detail, the meticulous selection of the perfect rocks! The thorough authenticity I strove to achieve! What is that, I sense? Jealousy? Oh, ho, ho, you only wish you could've really been the one behind such an outstanding idea, don't you, you miserable—"
Her derisive crowing was unexpectedly cut short as Jay, with a single heated, calculated kick, sent one of the rock piles scattering across the front yard.
A flash of red streaked across Jessie's eyes. He didn't—he didn't! "Hey!" she exclaimed loudly. Losing all sense to insult, she leapt up from her crouch. "What the hell—?"
"Jessie!" James gasped in shock but acted promptly, latching onto her arm and yanking her back down behind the undergrowth.
"How dare he!" she ranted furiously, twisting against his hold in her sudden rage. Her head was coming dangerously close to popping out from the critical stockade of the bushes, and James' adrenaline pumped wildly.
"Jessie, please, please! Please be quiet! You're going to give us away!" he begged in a frantic whisper. This was bad—when Jessie got offended, especially by one of their enemies, it took an army and one additional person to sedate her. If he let go, he knew, she'd go marching right out to confront the man, their strategy and accomplishments be damned. His stomach overturned at the mental picture and he tightened his clasp on her arm, exhausting every ounce of energy to keep her from exposing them.
But Jessie didn't feel offended…she felt assaulted. "He's got some nerve!" Her voice trembled with ire and she continued to thrash in James' clutch, though more contained now. "He's got some damn nerve! How dare he destroy my work so barbarously! Who does he think he is?"
"Jessie, please!"
"I'll show him!"
"You already showed him!"
"I'll teach him for being so rude!"
One more fitful writhe, and James gave her arm an anxious jerk. "Jessie, PLEASE! You'll ruin everything!"
It was that shrill, dire warning that, at last, got through to her. She immediately hushed and James, slicked with sweat, felt her loosen. He cautiously relinquished his grip and took a lungful of air, relieved but still very alarmed at what had just taken place, how close Jessie had come to throwing away everything they'd gained in the last day.
Across the way, the twerp's father continued his angry, slapdash cleanup of the yard, using his feet to sweep all the rocks into one pile, off to the side and away from the walkway. Even the rocks he'd sent flying he gathered, his face hard and concentrative all the while. When he was finished, he took one more scornful look at the pile, then stomped to his car, slamming the door and taking off with just as much ferocity as he'd inflicted on Jessie's scrupulous arrangement.
Jessie, panting and scarlet in the face, watched all of this, seething but mercifully silent. James didn't speak, either. He was just thankful to see the man gone. Who knew what Jessie would have done if he hadn't been there to avert disaster? She'd looked about ready to kill; surely she had it in her to give in to her temper and go for Jay, and not necessarily with pokémon, either—more like fists, nails, and teeth. James shivered. All this over a pile of rocks...
They really had to get back to the house. They really had to get Pikachu into responsible hands. She was suddenly taking all of this too personally.
"Jessie..." he said inaudibly.
"I hate him," she declared.
"I know you do—"
She turned to him, her face dark with gravity. "Let's go back," she said. She watched her partner slump in relief. "We need to make sure the house is secure and the twerps don't find us."
"Right." James was all too ready to do just that.
"And we have a lot of work ahead of us, too," she added.
James' head ducked. "Work...?"
"Yes, work." Though scarcely following the breakdown, Jessie's smile returned, sardonic and brash. It was scary how fast she could regain control of herself and to what extent...but for Jessie, it was purely one of her most profound strengths. "You and Meowth are going to be helping me with some arts and crafts." A wily chortle rang in her throat, almost as if to herself, and James gulped.
"What kind of arts and crafts...?" he asked warily.
Jessie stood, brushing brown, wet leaves from her boots. "Didn't I mention that Plan B would be fun to make as well as fun to carry out?" she enlightened, happily disregarding all of James' arguments and suggestions leading up to that point.
James, unsurprisingly, looked a mix of frustrated and deflated, but it didn't concern Jessie one bit. They had Pikachu—and no, that was not going to change. Of that, she was supremely confident. He didn't have anything to worry about.
But she still couldn't just leave it at that. Not after the callous offense she'd been dealt. If this truly was, as she assumed to be obvious, going to be their "last hurrah" with those vexing twerps, then everything needed to shine in their favor, and that unquestionably included upholding her dignity—something they had threatened to mangle too many times to be deemed forgivable.
Well, Jessie didn't forgive, anyway. She got back.
In just a day, she was going to have her self-respect decisively restored, Pikachu in her possession, and reason for never again having to deal with those rotten children and their passion for blasting them painfully into oblivion.
Jessie tilted her head back, took a long gander at the light blue sky above, and let the emotion fully wash over her.
For the first time in what seemed an agonizing eternity, she could openly say life was good.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Trick or treat! :) Comments and constructive criticism are sweet delights, but hey, if you can somehow send real candy through the review button...well, I wouldn't turn that down, either. ;)
Have a Happy Halloween, everyone! Hope the Great Pumpkin is good to you!