Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon or The Blair Witch Project. But I bet you I could secure the rights to them faster than I could write the next chapter.
Sorry again for the delay. There is no magic pill to cure chronic writer's block. Hope the wait was worth it. I truly appreciate everyone who returns to read in spite of my everlasting hiatuses!
SOON BEGINS BEWITCHING
by Spruceton Spook
Chapter 12
"In the Witching Hour"
"Over here! He's over here!"
Despite Misty's hustling, she couldn't seem to gain ground fast enough. Urgency and excitement propelled her forward, but the image of Tracey pointing at a small cluster of bushes seemed to be frustratingly retreating. It didn't help that there were those huge patches of ice to circumvent. Distress added itself to the mix.
Suddenly, though, she was beside him, only Tracey was now Brock. Misty just glanced fleetingly at her friend before following his transfixed stare to the lush, green vegetation before them. Without further delay she ripped the branches aside. Finally, everything was going to be good again.
And there, peering up at her, were two brilliantly bright black eyes. Pikachu was perched on his hind legs, his head cocked blithely, and for Misty, it was the most incredible thing she'd ever seen.
"You're here!" she exclaimed.
"Toki!" Pikachu confirmed heartily.
Misty clasped her hands to her mouth, relieved and overjoyed. "I can't believe it!" she blubbered, simply beholding the mouse, healthy and vivacious and very much there. "This is so great! This is so great!"
"Toki toki!" Pikachu flicked his ears almost in agreement.
"Pikachu," Misty cooed, holding her arms out and inviting him to her. She couldn't wait to get him home; Ash was going to be so happy. "Let's go!"
"Toki toki!"
"Come on!" But even with her encouragement and Pikachu's liveliness, the mouse didn't readily comply. Instead, he began to buck on his feet, which appeared playful at first, as if he was feverish from his long-awaited discovery. But little by little his nonstop chattering turned from jubilant to…somewhat malcontent.
"Toki toki toki!"
Unexpected anxiety gripped Misty. Her arms remained outstretched expectantly, but she didn't reach for Pikachu—she knew she couldn't. All she could do was watch the pokémon shun her offer but trust he would ultimately relent and leap into the safety of her arms. He was going to, wasn't he? He had to—after everything, he just had to. She yearned to clasp him to her heart, never let him go in spite of the fact he wasn't hers.
But Pikachu continued to rebuff. "Toki toki toki!" he chanted, the timbre of his voice descending into franticness. Misty could only shake her head, addled by his actions.
"Pikachu!" She didn't understand. Why was he starting to look so…impatient? What did he want her to do? She was right there, his savior, ready to return him to the shelter and affection he'd been missing. All he had to do was submit to her embrace! What more did he want, did he need?
"Toki toki TOKI!" he just went on demanding.
"Pikachu!" Misty tried once more but her voice was abruptly gone. So too was her perception of the scene entirely—she could feel herself slipping away, the sight of Pikachu springing about in dissatisfaction becoming hazy. Yet his cries remained clear and strident and persistent. Misty fought to stay with him but it was no use. She was losing him…again…
"Tokiprriiiiiii!"
Misty jolted awake, and snapped to the best attention her somnolent condition allowed her.
"Togepi!" she admonished immediately, her voice haggard. "Quiet! What is it?"
She could just make out the form of her needy pokémon mere inches from her face. Although the room was dark, Misty's eyes screamed with pain, the rest she received doing nothing to allay the aftereffects of her heavy sobbing.
"Toki-tok!" Togepi droned, his voice slightly subdued as he'd finally gained his trainer's attention. He fidgeted about her pillow, however, still requiring her, and Misty cursed her miserable luck. She thought she'd never get to sleep, but her dream still fresh in her mind confirmed she had in fact achieved it. What on earth did her pokémon want to disrupt that which she so desperately needed?
Gruelingly, Misty rolled over to check the time on her nightstand clock. Her forehead pulsated the instant her weak eyes connected with the blazing blue numbers, and she groaned when she discovered the time. She'd only been sleeping for about an hour.
"Tokipriii!"
"Togepi, shh!" Misty whispered harshly, too cranky to hide her irritation. "What do you want?"
Her vision was gradually adjusting to the dimness, though her head certainly wasn't adjusting to the abuse it'd taken the last few hours. It felt as though her eyeballs were going to fire from their sockets at any second from the pressure. She watched as Togepi scampered onto the nightstand and towards the window, where he began to gesture, indicating his desire to go out.
"You have to be kidding me," Misty mumbled, more to herself than to Togepi.
"Toki toki!" he besought, loudly again.
"Shhh!" scolded Misty again. "Togepi, please—you have to be quiet!" With Riley just on the other side of the wall (and Ash's parents), she didn't need her pokémon to be the reason for waking and disturbing the household again.
Thankfully, Togepi obeyed, but still signaled restlessly towards the window and the cold night beyond.
Sourly, Misty threw the covers off but didn't attempt yet to rise. Togepi couldn't seriously be needing to go outside to relieve himself. He'd grown out of that habit years ago. Even when they camped out, inches away from the outside world, Togepi slept the full night. Why tonight—this night out of all nights!—did he need to do this?
"Can't you just hold it in?" she whined—uselessly so, as that was of course impossible to expect of the young creature.
She was going to give in. She had to—it would be cruel otherwise. Her stomach tensed at the thought, though. Exactly how was she going to do this? With everyone in the house so edgy and on the brink of reacting at the slightest commotion, how was she going to get Togepi outside to do his business unobtrusively? Assuming everyone was asleep, to start.
This night was nothing but one huge debacle—which, naturally, was why Togepi had to go to the bathroom. Turning in early, dealing with the upheaval from every human familiar to him, seeing his trainer in her most distraught state…no wonder Togepi didn't have the usual control of his system. It all made sense…but it didn't make it any more tolerable.
Togepi perked as Misty swung her legs over the side of the bed. Sensing her pokémon about to prattle away again, she quickly picked him up (reminded of the way she was unable to do so with Pikachu in her dream) and nestled him in the crook of her arm.
"Shhhhhh," she bid, much gentler this time. Misty brought her finger to her lips and Togepi instantly relaxed. While grateful that she had educated the pokémon on what the sign meant—pretty much essential when carting around a pokémon outside a pokéball—she couldn't help bemoaning the fact that Togepi wasn't indoor-bathroom adept. The tension in the house aside, this was the last thing Misty felt like attending to in the early morning hours.
"We're gonna do this quietly now," she said, adding "Are we ever" under her breath.
After scouting out her slippers with her toes, she grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed and made her way over to the door. Right away, she insentiently viewed it as Obstacle One. Making it through the house, outside and back again undetected—with an unpredictable pokémon youngster in tow—was not the kind of test someone with little sleep and a whole lot of emotional anxiety was exactly fit to do.
Nevertheless, she managed to open the door without a sound, and was met by the engulfing dark of the upstairs hall. Peering around the wall, Misty was still able to see that the door to Ash's parents' bedroom was ajar. This was rarely the case; for privacy and to serve as a buffer for Riley's nightly cries, it was always closed. Misty took a short, nervous breath. They were afraid of Ash leaving again, weren't they? Her confidence in the sudden mission got even shakier. She wasn't going to do this. No way.
For a moment, Misty contemplated not even sneaking around at all. After all, she wasn't doing anything errant. It was an unfortunate fluke that nature was calling Togepi, and she had to do what needed to be done. Ash's dad, no matter how testy he could be, was not impractical—he'd certainly understand.
Something was holding her back from committing to this bold move, though. The house was still, at peace. Misty didn't want to spoil that. It wasn't because of the negative attention she would draw to herself, if briefly. It was because everyone needed sleep. Togepi was her responsibility and hers only. It shouldn't be anyone else's problem.
…Okay, so maybe it was a little more about the negative attention. Either way, her reasoning was solid.
The decision made, Misty lightly ventured off, slinking past the room and down the hall. Mercifully, Togepi remained hushed. Obviously he was aware and focused on the fact that he was on his way out, but Misty couldn't help but feel a flutter of pride in her chest, knowing she had conditioned the pokémon as well as she did. His cooperation was so critical in this undertaking, and he was coming through.
When she reached the stairs, she paused, peeling her ears for any noises from the upstairs bedrooms. Silence. Convinced she had successfully dodged Obstacle Two, Misty gripped the banister and tried to calm herself for what she faced next, which very well could have been considered Obstacle Three all the way to One Hundred: getting past Ash.
If anyone was going to be hovering in the realm between sleep and consciousness, it was her tormented boyfriend. Unfortunately, being on the couch positioned him on the route to both the front and back doors. Misty realized she was going to need an enormous amount of luck to make it outside without Ash waking and potentially going into frenzy mode.
Again, it forced Misty to contemplate the other course. I should just wake him up and let him know what I'm doing. Avoiding Jay and Delia was defensible, but there was no reason to hide her predicament from Ash. The worst thing that would probably come from involving him would be the extreme awkwardness in the aftermath of their last dreadful exchange.
They were going to have to deal with that eventually, anyway.
Okay, Misty resolved, starting her way down the staircase with renewed coolness. If I wake him up, I wake him up. He'd deal, she'd deal.
Even so, her descent to the ground floor was light-footed and discreet, and her instincts had her heading to the backdoor: choices gravitating away from rousing Ash. And so far, that seemed to be just the case. Misty was frankly astonished that Ash was asleep—or appeared to be, at least. She couldn't see him all that well, merely a vague mass in a shadowy space, but if he was aware of her approach, she was sure he would have made it known.
A comforting feeling washed over her, the best she felt since being stirred from her own slumber. Ash needed the sleep so badly. As surprising as it was, she thanked God he was able to accomplish it—both for the sake of his health and the sanity of the rest of them. With all hope, she would be able to fulfill this little task without changing that status.
The kitchen door had a tendency to creak, and this time around was no different. Misty's breath held tightly in her lungs as the door squealed despite her painstaking efforts to ease it open, but alas, no sound of surprise or complaint emanated from the living room. Quickly as could be, Misty slipped past the screen door and out into the nippy air.
"Okay, Togepi," she said, letting him down on the patio. Her voice was already quavering; she couldn't wait to get her robe on. "Go on, hurry up."
As soon as Togepi's tiny feet hit the ground, the pokémon scurried away with startling quickness, out onto the lawn and past the reach of the light, leaving his stunned trainer in his wake.
"Togepi!" Misty hissed, trying to suppress her nervous call to a low voice. "Where are you going?!"
It was very unlike Togepi to wander off—take off—in such a circumstance. Misty jumped to follow him, but stopped short as soon as her slipper-clad feet reached the edge of the patio. Instead, she craned her head, trying to spy her wayward charge in the murkiness of the backyard.
"Togepi!"
Thankfully, she could still hear her diminutive pokémon's prattling, his never-failing, built-in tracking device, as he traversed further from her. Although she didn't understand why he couldn't just attend to his matter several feet away like he typically did, so long as she knew he was nearby, she'd take it as yet another annoyance to add to the already superfluous pile.
"Don't go too far!" she ordered nonetheless.
With all hope, he would only take a few minutes, but Misty knew each second of their detour would be felt with profound edginess. The cold was doing nothing to help ease her nerves; her trembling seemed to have increased tenfold, even as she swung her robe around her shoulders and grasped at her arms to bundle and steady herself. A mild gust of wind whisked her hair across her face, and she swiftly batted it away, groaning tetchily.
She was anxious. No amount of justification for her current situation could extinguish that. Any other night, she would have never felt so vulnerable and audacious. She still couldn't shake the feeling she was doing something wrong. The impulse to sneak glances back at the house wore at her, but Misty denied herself. What was she going to do if she found she was discovered—run? Making sure Togepi didn't meander past the borders of the yard was what required her attention most at that moment.
The longer she stood out there, however, the more distracted she became. Aside from Togepi's random squeaks and the faint cadence of the crickets' song, the world around her was disquietingly still. Misty's eyes warily roamed her surroundings: the partly-cloudy, inky sky above, the infinite stretch of darkness beyond the perimeters of the Ketchums' small property…the daunting shadows skirting the light. Very rarely did she find herself unsettled by the vastness of this rural land her boyfriend called home—that she called home many months of the year—but then, she'd never experienced anything there like she had that particular week.
A shudder rattled Misty's core, and she drew her robe more closely around her, mistaking the brisk air as the source of her discomfort.
"Togepi," she called, dancing on her toes, praying he was done.
When no response followed, Misty felt her body stiffen even more. She refused to succumb to panic, though—mostly because that was ridiculous; she knew she'd be back in her room with Togepi before she knew it, this whole silly outing of stealth and misgiving behind her. Togepi wasn't going anywhere—that she could trust.
A stronger breeze ripped through the yard, the chill finding its way into every loose crevice of Misty's ensemble. She was shivering uncontrollably now, her heavy breaths clouding the air before her, shrouding her face.
It was difficult to fathom how Ash had actually entertained the thought of venturing out into this. It was too dark, cold, hazardous…creepy. Misty hated settling on that description, but it came all too easily. She could only fear what couldn't be seen. The thought of Pikachu being lost somewhere out in this oblivion was disturbing enough, but Ash leaving—alone and secretly, to boot—alarmed her in a way like no other.
The contemplation on how inhospitable the nightly world was meant she shouldn't have been out there, either. What was taking Togepi so long?!
"Togepi! Come on now!" she barked, though still keeping to a whisper. Her eyes darted in the direction he'd toddled off in, scanning far and near, across the lawn, down at her feet—
Her heart took a stabbing leap as her gaze landed upon quite possibly one of the last things she wanted to see. Instantly, Misty turned away, dread and aversion coursing her veins. As if this trip outside hadn't been troubling enough.
Still, she couldn't check herself from glancing down at the vile item again, almost if only to confirm it really was there. Annoyance blended with her disgust. Why was it there? They hadn't gotten rid of it? The rock piles had been cleared not long after they had appeared…what in the world possessed them to hold on to the stick bundle?
At least…that's what she assumed they'd done. How else could it be explained? Misty hadn't stuck around long enough on the scene to see what had become of the harrowing surprise that afternoon, but she couldn't think of a reason why any one of them would rationalize moving the prop to the back patio, as opposed to chucking it in the trash or into the bushes, as Misty would've expected.
Glaring stiffly down at the twig bale, tightly and tidily rolled with fabric, had her nearly hyperventilating. Part of her wanted to pick it up right then and there and toss it, far, far out of her sight. But another part of her shuddered at the thought of even touching it. Hell—she didn't even want to look at it, knowing what it emulated and still envisioning what unspeakable horror could be wrapped within.
Despite her consternation, though, something about the bundle held her attention. Any time she tried to avert her eyes they were drawn directly back to the object. She felt perversely mesmerized by it and she didn't know why. Almost unthinkingly, Misty stepped to the side and allowed the patio light to illuminate it better. Her heart began to beat with added vigor, but the uneasiness she now felt frightened her even more than the spectacles her imagination conjured.
There was something about it.
To say she was disinclined was an understatement, but her burning curiosity finally got the best of her revulsion. Questioning her saneness as she did so, Misty bent down and tentatively reached out to take hold of the stick bundle. She remained balanced on her haunches as she brought it to her face, scrutinizing it, rotating it gingerly with the very tips of her fingers, trying with all her might to figure out what was causing her intuition to unexpectedly rocket into overdrive. What was it about this wretched object that was…familiar? Other than, of course, the uncanny resemblance to its big-screen influence?
It was killing her—both handling the bundle with her bare hands and her grudging captivation with it. Desperately, Misty probed the deepest corners of her brain to uncover what was calling out to her memory.
Suddenly, her eyes went round as dinner plates.
"Oh my God," she gasped breathlessly.
Losing her balance somewhat, Misty had to propel herself upright with a boost of her palm off the ground. She staggered to her feet inelegantly, her mouth agape as she continued to ogle the bundle in her trembling hands. Gone in an instant was the nuisance of the enveloping cold; instead, she was breaking into a flash sweat, plunged into a dizzying state of distress.
No—it couldn't be. It couldn't be. Surely, she was mistaken—after all, it was dark, she was so tired and frazzled, this whole situation was messing with her mind far too much... She was seeing things—she had to be.
Yet that dogged avowal only prompted her to examine the item closer. Her perception was far too unyielding to dismiss what she was suspecting, simply because she didn't want to believe it.
The tumbling of her stomach upon the further inspection hit her with the most inharmonious sensation of fear and exhilaration.
Not only did she figure out why it looked so familiar, but a terribly unwelcome—yet strikingly enlightening—association piggybacked the realization.
Misty felt nauseous. She wasn't quite sure how this broadsiding correlation managed to find her, considering the emotional duress she was under. Or how she even had the nerve to call upon a pivotal incident in the movie she abhorred so much, tried and failed to put out of her mind. All she knew was that she was suddenly piecing together what all along could have been deemed a riddle. What was originally nothing more than a chilling stunt had become something even more unsettling—it had become a hint.
"Oh my God," she repeated.
Ash, Ash. She had to show this to Ash…
"Tokiprriiii!"
The lively trill spooked Misty, wrenching her head up and nearly causing her to drop the bundle. Despite her rapt trance, it took only her half of a second to notice that her pokémon had not returned empty-handed. The obscure article Togepi was carting behind him made her brow instantly furrow in confusion.
"What do you have there?"
It was difficult to make out exactly what Togepi had, but whatever it was, it was nearly as big as him, and it obviously excited the little creature. But then, there wasn't much that didn't excite Togepi. With another delighted chirp, Togepi proudly broadcasted his find while its bulk was threatening to topple him over in the process. When he tried to hoist it over his head futilely, Misty's heart skipped. She quickly forgot about keeping the bottoms of her slippers clean and rushed over to snatch the item from Togepi before he wound up hurting himself.
"What is this?"
Out of the blue, as if in response to her query, the object now in-hand gave off a weak beep, and Misty's head jerked back in befuddled surprise. It was a walkie-talkie.
"Where did you find this?" she wondered, frowning as she studied the beat-up device. Togepi squealed in reply, even though she wasn't really addressing him. She all but ignored the pokémon, straining to make sense of the bizarre discovery. A walkie-talkie wasn't exactly a common find—especially one that was on. When it gave another beep, startling her slightly again, Misty realized the reason behind the alert: the batteries were running low. Instinctively, she searched for the power switch and silenced the device.
She went right back to gawking at it, her puzzlement heightening with each passing second. Why was an activated walkie-talkie in the backyard? She wished she could have seen where Togepi found it, but she realized that was inconsequential; it wouldn't have made the find any less peculiar.
Speaking of peculiar…
It was hard to believe that something could have possibly distracted her from the improbable eye-opener she had made just a minute beforehand. Her midsection jolted when she swiftly remembered the other enigmatic item still gripped tightly in her hand. Now faced with two mystifying exhibits in her possession, Misty held them before her at arm's length, regarding each with intense but shaky eyes. It took but mere seconds for her brain, topsy-turvy though it was, to begin to sort it all out. In quick retrospect, Togepi unearthing yet another unlikely object in the Ketchum yard should have come as no surprise. As materially dissimilar as the items were, Misty was sure they were connected. They had to be—of course they were.
The walkie-talkie was a complete stumper, but her focus was on the twig bundle, every nerve in her body electrified at the idea of a breakthrough in this horrendous ordeal. There was no more time to waste; her presumption was the first real lead they'd had, and Ash needed to know—the time of night and everything else be damned.
"Come on, Togepi," she said, shoving the walkie-talkie under her arm and scooping the pokémon up in one swift movement. She had no clue whether or not Togepi had finished his business, nor did she care. Already she was feeling panic like she'd never experienced before.
Amazingly, in the face of her unbearable edginess, Misty maintained discreetness as she reentered the home. She closed the door quickly but quietly and proceeded to stride ably through the near pitch-black to the living room. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage as she wondered how she was going to reveal her news to Ash…and what, exactly, would come after.
Thanks to the streetlight, the living room was slightly brighter, and Misty didn't need to flip on a light.
"Ash," she said in her normal voice.
That was all that was necessary. Immediately, Ash stirred, snapping right to consciousness as if he hadn't even been asleep.
"What?" His tone was skittish and sharp.
Misty set Togepi down, kneeling beside the couch to get right to it. "Listen—"
"Misty?" After such an alert first response, Ash's true grogginess and confusion were coming forth. He hastily tried to right himself, but obviously forgot his unfortunate tailbone injury from earlier.
"Oh, oh! Aggh!" he cried, falling back down and arching his body severely to alleviate the aching reminder.
"Easy, easy!" Misty cringed, feeling bad then for waking him up so suddenly. She swiftly quashed that guilt, however, as she knew she really had no other option.
"Crap," Ash whimpered, sounding near tears. He plowed his face into his pillow, heavy breaths hissing through his teeth.
"You okay?" his girlfriend asked meekly.
"No," he sniveled, the word spoken so pitifully.
Her compassion soared for him, but okay or not, Misty knew she couldn't withhold her information any longer. Bracing herself, she finally issued the bombshell.
"Ash. I think I might know where Pikachu is."
The whites in Ash's eyes flared like beacons in the night as his head shot up. "What?!" he practically shrieked. His whole upper body was erect in a flash, the pain evidently no match for her claim. "Where?!"
If at all feasible, Misty's blood pressure was ever-increasing. "He's—I think he's in the old house. The Simmons house!"
There was a slight beat as Ash apparently registered this. "How do you know?" he demanded.
"From this—look, look." Misty's quaking hands presented the stick bundle, but the room was too dark for Ash to see the source supporting her belief.
"What? What is that?!" he exclaimed impatiently as Misty hopped up to turn on the lamp.
"Here," she said, holding it out to him.
Ash squinted as he struggled to adjust to the brightness, but his shock was readable in the curl of his lip. "Is that the thing from the front yard?"
"Yeah—"
"You mean…you think so, too?"
Misty was considerably taken aback by that question, as well as Ash's face, which was abruptly lit with incredulity and just a touch of fright, pining for what unmistakably was the security of her consensus. A charged pause descended upon the couple.
"What?" she finally blurted.
"You think so, too?" he repeated anxiously. "That—that it's all connected?"
Wait a second. "What…you thought that all along?!" gasped Misty.
"That the things in the yard and Pikachu were connected?" Ash blinked timorously. "Um. K-kinda… I mean—yeah..."
Misty fumbled with her ability to reply, astonished. This was certainly news to her. At first she was compelled to yell at him, demand why he had kept such a theory from her…and then she realized. They hadn't spoken much, at least not in a civilized, calm manner, since Pikachu had gone missing. Not once had the two of them truly discussed the incident, dissected the mystery, offered speculations. With Brock she had done this, but Ash…Ash had been too frenetic and emotional and all over the place to even achieve a solid minute of his attention.
Not to mention that even if he had communicated his belief that the pranks and Pikachu were associated, she probably wouldn't have had the backbone to address anything to do with the Blair Witch, anyway. She admitted it. Perhaps, underneath it all, Ash knew this, as well.
As such, she couldn't entirely fault him. If anything, she should be relieved that he shared her implausible notion—and without prompting. It only verified that which had dawned on her so unpredictably.
"What made you think it?" The stress in his voice brought her quickly back. Without further delay, she held out the bundle again to Ash to state her case.
"Remember in the movie," she said slowly, "the girl found the bundle, and…and it was tied with the guy's shirt?"
Ash nodded.
"That was…the witch trying to tell them," she continued, braving through her concept with a surprisingly sturdy voice. "She was telling them that she…she had him. What if…whoever has Pikachu…is telling us?"
Ash's eyes were wavering. "H-how?"
Misty took a deep breath. "I've seen this before."
"Seen what?"
"This fabric," she divulged, tapping the material secured around the sticks. "Ash, I remember this! I saw it in the house!"
Ash's eyes went as wide as could be as he took in her declaration. "Are you sure?"
Misty nodded, even though she did still covertly harbor some doubt that her recollection was accurate. What she was alleging was set to drive their search into a precise direction—no doubt straightaway—and the fact that she was ninety-five-percent sure was enough to unnerve her.
It went without saying that her confidence in the eccentric proposal, that it had something to do with Pikachu's whereabouts—Ash's concurrence notwithstanding—hung at even a substantially lower percentage.
Nonetheless, she answered, "I'm sure."
"I—I don't remember it, though!" stammered Ash fretfully. As if that wasn't plenty to throw her off: "Are you sure?!"
She hated that his plea was making her question herself. But one more glimpse at the yellow, delicately-ornate material, beautiful though faded and worn, was all she needed to feel that confirming surge of excitement once again. She was up to ninety-nine-percent.
"Yes," she blinked, her tone heavy with promise. She gripped the bundle tightly in her fist as she expounded. "Trust me, Ash…I hated a lot of things about that house—a lot of things—but I remember…I remember liking these. They were curtains. Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms. I hated that house so much but I remember seeing these curtains and thinking how pretty they were and what a shame it was that they were just rotting away in there! This…this is them. I know it is!"
Ash was gaping mutely at the bundle as he absorbed her testament. Misty was sure his frame of mind was parallel to her own—overwhelmed, edgy, and slightly terrified of what was to be done with this evidence. She worked to catch her breath and come to terms with what was really transpiring…and what was bound to follow.
Of course, she was expecting a prompt call to action habitual of her impetuous, motivated boyfriend—especially as of late. She knew it was inevitable the moment she decided to expose her finding to him and she committed to it, even though it clearly meant an undertaking not only spontaneous and scary, but entirely rebellious.
Instead, his gaze sluggishly rose to meet hers, and although the lighting in the room could have been misleading, Misty was shocked to see that all the color had rapidly drained from his face.
"I never looked there," he uttered inaudibly.
Not even sure how to reply to the unforeseen reaction, Misty could only return with a muddled shrug. But as his expression became further distraught, Misty sensed that this was about to morph into something much more serious for the boy.
"I—I never looked in the old Simmons place…"
He was swiftly beginning to come apart at this, and Misty countered instantly to thwart the onrushing breakdown. He was supposed to be stimulated, not devastated! "No, no, no, Ash! It's okay. You didn't know—"
"How could I have not looked there?!" he cried despairingly. "I—I looked everywhere else! Why did I not look there?!"
"You didn't think he'd be there!" Misty couldn't believe that despite the revelation and Ash's subsequent freak-out, their voices were still relatively low. She grabbed at his wrists to settle him before he got any more raucous. "I wouldn't have thought he'd be there! That's why you didn't look!"
The reason, though perfectly valid in Misty's view, was nothing but an excuse to Ash—a poor, unforgivable, stunning failure that was identifiable in his wild, tear-flooded eyes.
"But I should've looked everywhere!" he contended. "W-we were only there a couple days ago! I can't believe I didn't even think of it! Why didn't I think of it?!"
"Ash, why would Pikachu go there?" insisted Misty. "Why would anyone bring him there? Think of that! You searched where you thought he would be!"
Her words were falling on deaf ears, though. Ash was hysterical, guilt and panic powering his defiance of her justification.
"What if…what if he's not even there anymore?" He tore himself away from her clutch to pull at his mussed hair. "He might be gone, and we lost our chance and it's all my fault! All because I was too stupid to think to look in a place I should have!"
His dread was compelling, his assumptions frightening. But Misty couldn't bear to hear his torment. While part of her was surprised the house was left out when Ash had been so determined to search every square foot of Pallet Town, she knew the oversight was completely logical—deep down, Ash did, too. But it was going to be some task convincing him of that. What she would attempt to do was focus his attention forward, but if Ash was right…if they were too late…
Then it hit her. And it must have done so quite noticeably, for even Ash was shockingly silenced and eyeing her curiously.
"What?" he asked.
Frantically, Misty searched about herself, her scrambling hands finally seizing that which was the one object capable of dispelling Ash's worry. She lifted the walkie-talkie up, and predictably, Ash gave a look of significant bewilderment.
"What is that?"
"A walkie-talkie. Togepi found it."
Ash blinked, still greatly upset but sincerely flummoxed. "Where did that come from?" he scowled.
"I don't know, but…I have a funny feeling that whoever's been putting out all the Blair Witch things—this came from them, too."
For a second he looked skeptical, but there was no time to spell out the relation. The prospect of finding Pikachu was still alive—Misty was sure of it, based on one explicit detail.
"Ash, this walkie-talkie was on," she told him, her eyebrows raised.
He appeared completely discombobulated by this added element, but she couldn't blame him for not catching on. She couldn't believe her own mental solidness at figuring this all out.
"This had to've been dropped in the yard sometime recently," she gambled. "There's no way this thing would still be working if it was from a while ago. The batteries are really low, but they're not dead. I mean, how long do these things last? I—I don't know for sure if it is, but if—if this walkie-talkie is from the same people who've been putting out the stuff…it means they could still be around! And—and if they used the curtains from the old Simmons place for the stick thing…and that was only put out this afternoon…that means that's where they could be right now."
There, at last, was the look of impetus Misty had expected of Ash. As her pitch unfolded, she could tell that his grief was visibly lifting, replacing with optimism as he embraced her promising points. The look roused her, as well. She realized she truly believed everything she was saying; her doubts over the findings and her accompanying theories were beginning to crumble. For the first time in days, things were making sense. She was feeling hope.
"Misty?" he ultimately said, his body static but his face ever so alive with fervor.
"Yeah?" she replied readily.
"Does Team Rocket use walkie-talkies?"
It was as if the wind had been sucker-punched out of her. It wasn't just the game-changing twist Ash had just tossed into the mix; it was more so the fact that the situation was still managing to develop in ways blatantly obvious in hindsight. She suddenly felt stupid as much as she felt enlightened. They had already indicted the trio as the main suspects; how had it taken her so long to fit those seemingly simple puzzle pieces together?! Why did it take a remark of Ash's from left field to finally open her eyes? As she and Ash gawked at each other, mutually and wordlessly processing this new and very conceivable angle, Misty found herself going through a transformation so fast and so extreme she wondered if it was actually possible for one's blood to boil.
To fathom the idea that Team Rocket could have the impudence to perform such heinous acts of play over and above their already reprehensible modus operandi... To think that all this time, Misty was afraid of these incidents—had done everything in her power to shield herself from them, cater to a phobia she knew was below her to begin with. It was enough to wrack her entire being with fury. Every iota of fear she had suffered over those events swiftly vanished, just like that. And with this new sensation came the overriding compulsion to act.
If only she could have foreseen this hours earlier, when she had confronted Ash in his bedroom and all but dared him to do what she was about to declare next. She nearly laughed out loud in spite of the situation.
"Ash, we have to go—now."
The irony of her suggestion didn't seem to faze him one bit…if it even hit him at all.
"Yeah. I know." He was breathless, as worked up as he was resolute. Misty knew exactly how he felt, what was going through his mind. They needed to do this—but they were still very much aware of what it was going to entail. It was not going to be easy, nor pleasant, and there was no guarantee the proscribed endeavor they were about to make would even end in a positive result.
"We should get Brock," she said.
For an instant Ash looked hesitant, but Misty understood it was strictly from nerves, not because he didn't want his friend's help. Regardless of how direly crucial each second was, their apprehension was stalling them; neither one of them had made the move to leave the sanctuary of the couch area.
"Okay. O-okay, yeah," Ash tripped over his tongue. "I—we should also get dressed."
Misty had almost forgotten she was in her pajamas. If Ash hadn't said that, she wondered if she might have even taken off into the night with her robe and slippers. Wouldn't have been the first time someone had done that that week...
"And I have to get my pokébelt," he added. He threw his blankets aside, making to get up.
"Yeah…we need our pokémon, don't we," she concurred tremulously, standing. Her stress was mounting—there was so much that still needed to be done before they could even depart…including a certain pesky obligation that latched onto the forefront of her mind.
Ash was urged to his own feet, but perhaps too hastily: his face immediately constricted in visible pain, and he grabbed at the armrest of the couch, struggling to remain vertical. Misty flinched. She could tell he was doing his best to bear the discomfort, but a long, low, agonized moan reverberated in his throat.
"Ash," she sighed, only then grasping the impact his impairment could have on their mission, "are you going to even be able to do this?"
He cracked open an eye—a very grave, determined eye. "I'll make sure I can."
She didn't doubt his willpower—for Pikachu, he probably would have gone forth on two broken legs—but his condition still troubled her. She didn't know how long that willpower would physically hold up.
"It just hurts a lot," Ash clarified. He must have noticed the worry on her face and gave her an assuring nod. "It sucks, but I can do it, Misty."
She sighed again, but granted him her trust. "Alright…"
There was still that one more thing she needed to broach, however, and she was sure he was not going to be thrilled to hear it.
"Ash?"
"Yeah?"
Misty bit her lip. "We need to tell them."
Sure enough, dread flashed across Ash's already stricken face. "We do?"
"You know we do," she drawled evenly. After everything that had gone down so stormily that evening, the thought of leaving the house to retrieve Pikachu without Ash's parents knowing—as if the chance of that even being feasible wasn't infinitesimal—made her even more edgy than the operation itself.
They needed to do this, but even in the face of the exigency, Misty wanted to do it right.
Ash was still delaying, and although she sympathized, as his rapport with his folks at the present moment was pretty disputatious, she knew there was no way to avoid it. With precious seconds ticking away, her boldness flared, and she marched past Ash toward the stairs.
"I'll do it."
"Misty, no!" Ash promptly snagged her arm and yanked her to a stop, but as she was about to refute that it was necessary, she noticed his expression had altered. "I'll do it."
She paused and narrowed her eyes, studying him, wondering if he really meant it or it was just a deferring tactic. It was quickly apparent it was the former, however, as his face had hardened, not with defiance but with protectiveness.
"I'm not letting you go up there to face my dad," he frowned. "I can't. That's for me to do."
Even though Misty was confident she could have fared well with the daring task, she was touched that Ash had plowed through his own fear in order to safeguard her. It wasn't exactly along the valiant lines of taking a bullet for her, but she still appreciated it for what it was. For once that night, her heart leapt in a good way.
The boy she loved was still in there.
"Okay," she nodded. "You do that, and I'll wake up Brock."
"Okay."
Their plan was in effect for no more than a second. Rounding the base of the stairs, their momentum was abruptly suspended before their feet even reached the bottom step. Frozen entirely, except for the thumping of their hearts, Ash and Misty could only gawk up at the specter they suddenly faced, looming almost sinisterly in the gloom of the second floor landing.
For someone who had had so much determined spirit an instant ago, Misty felt her legs turn to jelly, even though it wasn't her that Jay's attention was drawn to. She could have very well been invisible. The man's eyes were focused to her right, straight at Ash, but very quickly she observed that there was no suggestion of anger exuding from his stare. Rather, Jay looked tired, crushed…as if beholding his son was not fraying what was left of his nerves, but outright breaking his heart.
Reticently, Misty stole a glimpse at Ash. He had been ready to take on his father, but she was sure he'd needed the five to ten seconds it would have taken him to get to their bedroom to prepare. But he appeared undaunted, rising instantly to the challenge. He was breathing fast and hard through his nose, lips pressed flat.
"Dad," he said grittily, "I'm sorry, but we have to leave. We know where Pikachu is."
Jay winced, as though Ash's words were a dagger to his gut.
"He's in the old Simmons place," he continued forwardly. "We have to go, now. We can't wait! He might not be there much longer!"
"Ash…" his father sighed heavily. He scrubbed at his clasped-shut eyes.
"We know he's there! We have proof!"
"Ash." There was now warning unearthing in the weary tone, kicking Misty's adrenaline right into another gear.
"It's true!" she blurted. Both sets of eyes were instantly on her—Ash's she could feel, but hers were locked with Jay's. No verbal response was necessary; it was all in his stunned expression. Not you, too?!
Misty was aware of what her role was supposed to be. She'd even played it well earlier that evening, partaking in the communal concern and disapproval of Ash's actions with the rest of the family. As his girlfriend, she was to curb and influence Ash in distinct ways neither his parents nor Brock could. It needn't have been discussed; it was understood.
The circumstances were different now. And considering the sacrifice that Ash was more than willing to make for her, Misty saw it unfair to place the burden of confronting Jay entirely on him. After all, it was due to her that this scene was unfolding. Perhaps the respect Ash's parents held for her would be the key to cutting through Jay's stonewalling.
Spinning on her heels, she darted back to the couch to retrieve the twig bundle and the walkie-talkie.
"Dad, look!" Ash pointed as Jay started down the stairs. "You have to see this! Misty figured it all out!"
But Jay held up a restraining hand, shaking his head and scowling in sheer rebuff. "No! I don't care what Misty figured out—"
Misty was not about to allow him the opportunity to just cull their promising discovery. Even if it meant putting her good standing in jeopardy. She shoved the bundle at Jay so fast he had no choice but to shut up and accept it.
"This came from the house," she said, her voice blunt and controlled. "The material that was used to tie this came from the curtains there, I know it did. Ash and I—we think that whoever has Pikachu has also been pulling the pranks with the Blair Witch stuff."
Thankfully, Jay continued to hold his tongue, but the frown was still deeply entrenched in his face. He was staring down at the item, and Misty prayed that meant her words were at least being heard.
"We're thinking it's Team Rocket doing all of it!" Ash piped in. "See—Misty found a walkie-talkie, too. We think it's theirs and they've been leaving all the stuff in our yard!"
Misty held up the walkie-talkie to Jay, whose reaction nearly perfectly mimicked that of his son's minutes ago.
"Where the hell did you find this?" he asked, taking hold of the device and examining it, his irritable look intensifying all the more.
"Outside," she replied, her stomach quivering in hopes he didn't ask why she was there. "It was on and beeping. Togepi was the one who found it." Suddenly, like a bolt from the sky, she grasped why Togepi had been so insistent on going out, so quick to run off the instant she released him. It probably had had nothing to do with relieving himself. Her eyes widened at this private realization.
"Don't you see, Dad?" clamored Ash. "This could be Team Rocket's walkie-talkie, and if Misty's right and the cloth really is from the Simmons place—"
"Exactly—if," his father cut in, rather tersely. "You don't know this for sure."
"I know, but we have to go—"
"No, we don't," Jay said firmly. His unyielding visage was awfully disheartening to Misty. She knew Ash's past actions weren't giving this new scheme much credence, but it still upset her that Jay appeared to not even be giving the possibility the slimmest chance. To prevent his son from blindly leaving the house on an uncharted mission was one thing, but now they had valid data, a specific target. Why was he still being this way? It was like he was objecting just for the sake of defending his own prideful stance…
Ash's eyes then narrowed crossly; he wasn't about to cede to his father's pigheadedness. The showdown was on, and Misty didn't know whether to be exhilarated or scared stiff. "Yes, we do!" he replied brashly. "This is the best proof we've had yet! We just can't ignore it! We have to go and check it out just in case!"
"Ash, would you listen to yourself?!" Jay snarled in a harsh whisper, stooping forward in his son's face to deliver his point more emphatically. "You are telling me that you want to go to the Simmons place in the middle of the night! You are nuts."
"It would be me and Misty and Brock and our pokémon!" Ash amended, as if it somehow made a difference. It didn't.
"It's not happening," Jay shot it down through his teeth.
"But what if Pikachu is there?!"
"It's too dangerous!" his father argued. "I can't let you go!"
"Then come with us!"
Both Misty and Jay started at this proposal. Ash was glaring at his dad, fists clenched unwaveringly at his sides. He wasn't backing down, and Misty found herself proud—immensely proud. Ash was unfearful, tenacious, and—most notably—he was smart. Catching Jay off-guard with the appeal so much that his father was momentarily rendered silent, Ash was employing an age-old adage, artfully in reverse. If Jay couldn't beat him, he had to join him.
Well, ideally. Misty held her breath, observing Jay in suspense.
Before he had a chance to reply, though, a fourth, disembodied voice rang out from the crest of the stairs.
"Now what's going on?"
It was Delia. Her entrance was no surprise—in fact, it was inevitable. While they weren't screaming at the top of their lungs, they hadn't exactly been using voices fit for a library, either. Her appearance was unmistakably what Jay had strove to avoid; his face fell the second his eyes laid upon his wife.
For Ash, her arrival was an opening to garner another body of support. "We found Pikachu!" he zealously exclaimed.
Perhaps that wasn't the best choice of words, for Delia's haggard face lit up excitedly. "What?! You did?"
"No, they think they did," Jay corrected gruffly, regaining his speech.
That got Ash fired up again. "No, we did! Why don't you want to believe us?!" he cried, his frustrated voice cracking. His attention whipped back to Delia imploringly. "Mom—please, you have to listen!"
"No, you're going to listen!" Jay countered.
With another scuffle materializing before her eyes, Delia flew to action, rushing down the stairs. "Okay, everyone calm down," she admonished. "Tell me what this is all about."
Much of Misty's anxiety had lifted now that Delia was involved. She knew she wouldn't have been able to referee two head-knocking Ketchum men.
"They think he's in the Simmons house," Jay filled in. His uncompromising glare as he spoke was daring Delia to not immediately side with him.
"The what?!"
"We know he's there, Mom!" Ash insisted before his mother had a chance to opine. "We found proof! The curtains! The twigs are wrapped in the curtains! He could be there right now! We have to go!"
Misty could see that Delia was rattled by the bombardment of information and implied pleas for her backing. She felt suddenly awful for her. Other than Ash, was anyone being put through more grief over this situation than Delia? Heaven forbid she'd admit this to Ash, at least anytime soon, but she was beginning to understand Jay's attitude. It didn't overturn their need to act, of course, but she was still levelheaded enough to realize what all this chaos was doing to the weary new mother.
Not to mention, naturally, just how perilous and complicated the operation was going to be. The Simmons house wasn't exactly the picture of stability. Even in broad daylight, they'd had to watch every step, dodge numerous hazards. To think of venturing near the property, much less the house's brittle foundation, in the depths of the dark Pallet Town night seemed wholly preposterous.
While it appeared that way on the surface, Jay wasn't trying to be obstructive. Nor did he not care about Pikachu. He was trying to relieve his tired wife, protect his reckless son…he was a beleaguered mediator in a nerve-wracking situation. But that didn't change the reality of what needed to be done. He only had to see that this latest episode in the search for Pikachu wasn't an unfounded stunt. And as gutsy and resolute as he was, Ash's untamed ways of selling their mission wasn't helping the matter.
Steeling herself, Misty swallowed the huge lump that had suddenly lodged in her throat and entered the fray.
"I know you guys don't want us to go because it's dark and dangerous and it's late," she said. "But Ash and I…we're confident that we've figured it out. That we've found Pikachu, for real. On—on our journeys, we've had to do this, a lot…we've—we've had to find stolen pokémon for people we've come across. We've figured out why some pokémon were acting a certain way, why some were unhappy, or not acting themselves. We've tracked down Team Rocket before! We've had to problem-solve almost every single day.
"We have experience in this," she summarized pointedly. Misty was grateful to see that she'd maintained Ash's parents' attention throughout her short dialogue, and her stomach tensed, hoping her words were really having an impact. "When I found that stick bundle and saw it was wrapped in the Simmons' curtains, and then the walkie-talkie…I just knew. I feel so confident that this is it, because I've felt this feeling before. Ash and I both know. We know how to put clues together. Our journey has forced us to learn how to do it. You have to believe us; we wouldn't be asking to do this if we weren't as sure as we are. W-we know going out at this time is crazy, we do, but if we don't go, right now, we…we may be missing our very last real chance to find Pikachu."
"We have to take that chance," Ash added on pleadingly. His tone had mollified considerably, due in part to Misty's speech, she was sure. "Please, let us go. If…" He quieted even more, taking a shaky breath. "…If he isn't there, then…then you can yell and scream at us all you want, say you told us so, but please…please give us this chance. Let us do this."
He turned to Jay. "Come with us," he begged of him once more. Jay's eyes were still hard, but he didn't outright refuse. In fact, he appeared…contemplative. Perhaps Misty was being a little too optimistic, but that had to be a good sign. The light at the end of the tunnel was starting to grow brighter…
"Hold on a second."
…and just like that, it fizzled like a doused campfire.
When Misty saw Delia's expression, her aforementioned ability to read into clues came into full play again. Only this time, her spine seized uncomfortably. Oh, crap. In the madness of it all, they'd forgotten one tiny detail.
"Can I ask how you know something came from the Simmons house?" There was a thick moment of dead silence following her question. No one was quick to supply an answer, but Delia didn't need it. Her eyes narrowed knowingly. "You went there, didn't you."
Misty would've given anything to steal a glance at Jay, the brazen, fun-seeking trespassing enabler who had sworn the children to confidentiality. What was he going to say?
But it was Ash—plucky, confident Ash—who arched his shoulders and owned the charge. "Well, if we hadn't, we wouldn't've been able to figure out where Pikachu is," he replied shrewdly.
His mother glared at him before shaking her head resignedly. Misty sensed it was an action taken by her many times throughout her son's thirteen years. The transgression was left in the past, but their next course of action was very much within her control. "Well, if that's where you think you're going to go to find him now—no. No. You're not going to. It's too dangerous."
Every bit of hopefulness that had built up in the room the past few minutes quickly flattened. Those assertively straightened shoulders of Ash's sank like anchors.
"But Mom—"
"Don't argue with me, Ash! If that's where you think he is, then we're going to call the police," she decided firmly. "They'll take care of it."
Ash snorted. "I've never needed the police's help before to stop Team Rocket, and I don't need it now!"
"You certainly do when it involves a place you shouldn't be!"
"I'm not going to get hurt!"
"You already are hurt!"
"Actually, Delia, I don't know if calling the police is the greatest idea."
Delia paused, aghast at Jay's intervening opposition. "Why not?"
His eyes were as rigid as they had been, but the change in the air about him was palpable. Misty perked. "If we call the police and tell them that we suspect our missing pikachu is potentially being held hostage in an abandoned house, and we know this because one of the little Blair Witch Project trinkets that have been showing up in our yard the past couple of days happens to be made out of what we think are the curtains from the house, and then they go there and discover nothing's there…
"I don't know," he grimaced. "We might be taken for a bunch of idiots."
Delia didn't care for the excuse one bit. "I'd rather look like an idiot than see my son get hurt going into that house!"
"He's not going to go into the house," Jay said. "Because he's going to be with me."
Jay was known to be a bit of a Benedict Arnold—Ash had relayed this tidbit to Misty on many an occasion—but this turn of the tide had her jaw nearly hanging off its hinges.
Ash was equally as shocked, but a hint of elation glimmered in his eyes. In a different situation, he might have even grinned.
"So we can go?!" he virtually shrieked. Apparently he wasn't about to question his dad's startling change of heart, but Misty was too dumbfounded not to be intrigued. Seeing the light or not, this was the same man who minutes ago had been visibly at his wit's end trying to terminate their plan. Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who sought an explanation.
"Jay! What are you talking about?" a stupefied Delia gasped.
"On the other hand," he said, answering by simply continuing on with his interpretation, "if the kids are right, if they have really figured it all out and found Pikachu, and it is Team Rocket who has him?" His mouth twitched into an almost wicked smirk. "I don't want the police to deal with them. I do."
Her eyes widening, his wife began to shake her head furiously. "Jay, no!"
Delia might have been horrified by Jay's aspiration, but Misty was downright thrilled. She would have even cheered if it wasn't a tactless thing to do in front of Delia, who was only concerned for everyone's safety. But she was so glad she'd made the decision to speak up, as it obviously had worked its way through Jay's stubborn mentality, restoring a nerve that had been chafed raw by the strain of the situation. This was the Jay she'd grown to know in a few short years, the one whose fierce defense of his son's wellbeing was gauged by what he would do for him, not against him.
"Delia, relax—it's okay," Jay assured. "The way I see it, if the kids can beat these Team Rocket morons on basically a daily basis, I don't see any reason why I can't handle this. We don't have to get the police involved—it's not necessary. I'd rather not."
"Jay, you are crazy," Delia argued heatedly. "I don't want Ash out there right now—he's hurt! Especially to go to that—that place! I thought we were on the same page with this!"
"Mom, I'm okay, really," Ash cut in. "I can manage the pain!" But just the mention of the word "pain" had his mother paling woefully.
"We'll take the car," said Jay squarely. "I'm not about to make him walk a mile. And I told you, Ash will go nowhere near the house. I promise."
"I…I—I can't believe this," she stammered incredulously, throwing her hands up in the air. She was gawking at her husband, looking absolutely forsaken. She was outnumbered. Misty still felt sorry for her, visualizing the panic and frustration engulfing her, but she knew the right actions were about to be taken. She only hoped that Ash wouldn't take her objection the wrong way, hold against Delia her innate motherly duty to look out for her child at all costs.
But that was to be determined at a later time. As if the matter was indeed settled, Ash slithered past his parents and made his way—circumspectly, a poor way of disguising his blatant discomfort—up the stairs.
"I'm gonna go get my things and wake up Brock!"
His parents both watched him, Delia helplessly. Once he was out of sight, she turned to Jay, one last plea emanating from her glassy eyes, and Misty was caught audience to their poignant exchange.
"Del, listen to me. What if he's there?" Jay asked softly to justify himself. She blinked long and hard. "I know this is the last thing you want us to do, but we can't tell these kids no. Not when they seem so sure. This goddamn nightmare could end tonight—isn't that worth this chance right now? You don't have to worry, okay? I can handle this—you know I can handle something like this."
"…Do I?" she uttered, her small, fretful voice striking Misty's heart.
"I've done it before," he reminded her of his one and only Team Rocket encounter.
"But he's not well," she dreadfully changed the subject, clearly the most pressing one on her mind.
"He'll be fine. They all will be. They're with me."
Delia's head dipped. Spoken so strongly, Misty found it hard to distrust Jay's pledge; how could it not be likewise for Ash's anxious mother? Having Jay along definitely made Misty feel more secure about what they were going to undertake. And it wasn't just that he was an adult. He was an older version of the intrepid young man both she and Brock had the distinction of accompanying through a score of risky, formidable adventures, all of which ultimately yielded victory. With that kind of aptitude and history behind them, Misty had all the faith in the world.
Perhaps Delia reluctantly realized this, too. "You'll watch out for him?" she entreated, finally giving in.
"You know I will," Jay smiled.
Misty couldn't help but think back on an earlier discussion between her and her friends, days ago, when all they'd had to worry about was how to conclude a silly little movie adaptation that had, embarrassingly, been such a source of aggravation for her. What did it take to defeat a ruthless, preying witch? What did they have that the doomed film students did not? Where was it going to take place?
Ironically, Ash was going to get his wish in that regard. The idea he'd so passionately pursued was coming to pass. Their version of the terrible story, the one in which they'd unwillingly been cast, was fated to wrap up in the location much, much too eerily similar to the one that had served as the site of those unlucky kids' final stand.
It was all too unbelievable for her to fathom. Not just the tumultuous developments leading up to this present moment, but her own milestones along the way.
She thought she'd never want to, or have to, step foot near that unpleasant house ever again. Yet here she was, growing edgier and edgier with each passing minute she wasn't there.
Moreover, she thought she'd never want anything to do with the movie that disturbed her so ever again. Yet she'd managed to wisely employ bits of plot trivia to uncover the answers that had been under the family's noses the entire time.
Misty wasn't afraid anymore. She was ready; she was confident. Because unlike the students, they had what it took to vanquish their particular foe. With all hope, when everything was made right again, when Pikachu was found safe and sound, she would be able to look back on her previous fear and have a good, long, head-shaking laugh at herself.
As she joined in the mad rush to gather belongings, she couldn't believe the idea that dared to cross her mind, even if just frivolously.
Should they grab the video camera?
TO BE CONTINUED…
We're in the homestretch now. I'm sure no one is more thankful of that than the suffering Ketchum clan. Thanks again for reading! I do hope you enjoyed this pivotal chapter. Comments and critiques are greatly appreciated!