Is it a fantasy world where you're the boss
Or is it just me?
Have both of us gone crazy to a degree
Or is it just me?
-"Or Is It Just Me," Reverend Horton Heat
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon or The Blair Witch Project or a front stoop still to hand out my own candy to trick-or-treaters (I desperately want to move into a house!).
Happy Halloween! I can't begin to say how thrilled and relieved I am to have finished this chapter in time for today. It's so much fun (and easier) to write this story when I'm actually knee-deep in all the holiday fun and activity and music and everything pumpkin spice, haha! Can't believe it's almost all over… Enjoy, and thanks for returning!
SOON BEGINS BEWITCHING
by Spruceton Spook
Chapter 13
"Write a Happy Ending"
As if the incessant anxiety consuming every fiber of his being wasn't enough, Ash had a critical situation immediately at hand: he couldn't get comfortable in the car.
That was too audacious of a word, actually—he didn't need to be comfortable. He just needed to be able to sit tolerably, without teetering on the line of excruciating torment.
Though the chill in the air necessitated it, Ash tugged his sweatshirt over his head, his arms becoming briefly tangled in it in his frenzy, and stuffed it under his backside in an attempt to cushion his smarting tailbone. But he was quick to realize it helped little. Frantically, he threw the sweatshirt to the side and unbuckled the seatbelt he'd secured not a minute earlier, maneuvering his one leg underneath him with, mercifully, just enough lift to ease his weight off the injury.
It wasn't the most graceful of positions, but it would certainly do. If time wasn't such an issue, it probably would have been in his favor to walk to the Old Simmons Place.
"Ash, settle down and put your seat belt on," his father ordered as he shifted the car into drive and drifted away from the curb. At long last, after darting around the household for what seemed like forever to get their supplies and strategy in order, their mission was underway.
"I can't sit," Ash groused, but obeyed nonetheless. After latching the belt back into place, he caught the sympathetic gaze of his girlfriend across the backseat. Misty offered a fragile smile, and the troubled grimace contorting his face lessened slightly.
"It's not going to take us long—you can manage," Jay replied, somewhat disdainfully. Ash didn't take offense to the tone, though. He was right—he could manage. He needed to be tough, now more than ever.
After two days of shattering distress and hopelessness, a light finally flickered at the end of the tunnel. Ash still couldn't believe what was transpiring—where they were, what they were about to do. His head still swam with as much dazedness as it did purpose. Equal doses of eagerness and fear rushed through his veins; a range of scenarios played themselves out simultaneously in his mind's eye. They were but mere flashes of images: Pikachu. Team Rocket. The house. The night. The prospect of finding and retrieving his cherished friend was swiftly replaced with the dreadful possibility that they were mistaken about all of this, and vice versa—back and forth and back and forth.
Ash tried to breathe as deeply and evenly as he could to calm himself down and concentrate on the impending task. It was hard to maintain a level head when it was all too obvious he, his two friends, and his dad all seemed to be internalizing the same worry.
The car had fallen into silence, but the tension that hung in the air was palpable. Even Togepi sat quietly in Misty's lap, sharing the space with the walkie-talkie he'd found that his trainer couldn't seem to relinquish. Taking him with her was something Misty had debated, but after the tiny pokémon had been so instrumental in prompting this sudden operation, it seemed unreasonable not to include him through to the very end.
Ash's attention drifted to the outside world rolling by. Everything was so dark—the houses, the nebulous fields, the adjacent, black coppices. The limited artificial light seemed to dare anyone to take on the ominous, dormant realm. Jay was navigating the road slowly—too slowly—but Ash bit back the desire to protest. He knew how tremendously fortunate he was to have his father's coalition. The plea for his support wasn't just to subdue Jay's forthcoming anger; he truly did need all the help he could get. Ash felt safer in his dad's company—stronger.
He knew that if they did encounter Team Rocket, there was no doubt they'd come away victorious. His fingers fiddled with the pokéballs fastened to his belt. The assembly of pokémon the four trainers had in their possession—even Jay's largely inactive team—would be no match for Jessie and James. But confidence in their army did nothing to dispel the fear that all they would discover at the end of this nerve-racking drive was an empty, desolate old house and a crushing blow to the hope they were retaining.
Please let Pikachu still be there, Ash prayed, his eyes stinging with terrified tears. Please, please, please let me get him back tonight.
"Ash." Misty must have taken notice of his anguish, for her hand released its clutch on the walkie-talkie and presented itself gently. After a very brief pause, Ash accepted the gesture of comfort, his clammy fingers linking with her icy ones. He gripped her hand tightly, desperately, and Misty's guarded smile perked optimistically.
"It's gonna be okay," she assured.
Swallowing down his emotions, Ash managed a nod. He made no move to release his girlfriend's soothing hold, and she didn't seem ready to abandon him, either. In the midst of his trauma, love danced in Ash's stricken heart. How he would ever thank her for discovering what she did, for leading them to this moment, he didn't know.
Suddenly, Jay steered off course, turning down a side street, away from the direction of the Simmons house. The control to keep quiet vanished.
"Where are you going?" Ash's voice peaked with alarm.
"Around the back—remember, like last time? I'm not parking the car right in front of the house."
"Why not?"
Jay flashed Ash a glance in the rear-view mirror. "So we're not seen. We're not about to make it obvious what we're doing."
"But no one's awake! It's the middle of the night! Who's gonna see us?!"
"Team Rocket, maybe?"
His retort puzzled Ash, who displayed it unabashedly in his twisted face. "So what? We have to fight them for Pikachu, anyway!"
"Yes, I know, but—" Jay stopped and sighed heavily, flustered by Ash's dispute. "Ash, just trust me, okay? I know what I'm doing. I have a plan."
That aroused Ash's interest. "What is it?"
"I'll let you know in a minute, but it involves us being as inconspicuous as possible."
His tongue poised to demand more details, Ash swiftly decided otherwise. Trust him, he admonished himself. Even if Jay did have a fraction of the familiarity with Team Rocket's doings that Ash had, the resolve and gravity in his voice seemed to render the fact trivial. His father was not out to fail them. Though difficult, Ash allowed some of the burden of obligation to lift from his shoulders. He wasn't in this alone, and that was something to embrace, not fight.
Sure enough, before long the car pulled off to the side of the road. Jay extinguished the headlights immediately, but the kids were able to recognize where they were. The Simmons place, thankfully, was located in a sparsely developed area of Pallet. The closest neighbor was in eyesight, but far enough to pose minor concern. The old house's lot occupied two plots-worth of land, making its yard accessible from the next street without the need to traipse through another property.
Of course, that didn't make the endeavor entirely easy—the land behind the house was a jungle of trees, dense weeds, and gangly bushes, none of which were going to be effortless to traverse in the darkness. Nor did it pose the most ideal conditions for imminent battle.
Ash was raring to burst into action despite the trials that lay ahead. Before he could even take hold of the door handle, though, Jay's hand reached over and caught his arm. Even in the dark, Ash could read the seriousness in his father's face.
"Ash?" he started, then acknowledging Misty and Brock. "Kids? Look…I know that…we're expecting a lot to happen right now. But you also have to keep in mind that…there is still a chance Pikachu might not be here."
His attention was now squarely on Ash, who had bristled noticeably at his blunt reminder. "I'm just telling you this," he continued carefully, as it was apparent he loathed to dash any expectations the kids held, "because I want you to be aware. I don't want you to get your hopes up. I want you to…stay calm if that is in fact the case."
That was mostly for Ash, but Misty tensed; as honest as Jay's caveat was, it wasn't something she wanted to think about herself. Not after her deduction was so revealing, so irrefutable. If this all turned out to be one huge red herring, she wasn't sure how her heart would handle the anticlimax. Or the devastating despair her boyfriend was sure to suffer.
"But," Jay added, squeezing his brooding son's shoulder, "if Pikachu is here?" His lips ticked up in an assertive smirk. "I promise you: we'll get 'im back. Alright?"
It was impossible for Ash not to grant a faint smile at his dad's declaration. Still fighting off tears, the boy bobbed his head in agreement, and Misty could see the look in his eyes beginning to transform. He was going to hold on to the belief that his nightmare was going to end tonight for as long as he could, and act on it accordingly. They all would.
To his chagrin, Ash was forced to exit the car more gingerly than his eagerness wanted. His whole body ached from the tumble down the stairs, but nothing was inhibiting him to the extent his tailbone was. It was starting to infuriate him now more than physically hurt him—which said a lot. No amount of diversion could erase the pain completely, and Ash cursed being dealt such a handicap when every trace of his focus was required for getting his friend back. Bottling the urge to bellyache, he instead took his sweatshirt and pulled it back on, his hands trembling with nervousness and fervor.
"So what's our plan?" Brock asked, voice low and unwavering. For someone who had been delivered quite a startling wake-up call, it hadn't taken him two seconds to commit himself fully to the mission. The sight of Misty, of all people, showcasing the twig bundle seemed more shocking to him than the news of what they were about to do.
Before Jay had a chance to answer, Ash cut in, "We're calling them out of there, right? We're confronting them head-on?"
"Easy," Jay held out a restraining hand. "No, we're not."
"But I'm ready!" Ash insisted.
"Shh!" his father cautioned, and Ash sucked in his breath, realizing how loud he'd unintentionally spoken. "I know you are. But that's not how we're gonna do it. Come on," he said, encouraging them to venture forward with a wave of his arm. "Be careful—watch where you walk."
The three teens fell in line with his restrained steps, their guide a purposely-weak flashlight Jay had directed to the ground. The moonlight broke through the clouds intermittently, awarding them a bit more light and enabling their eyes to adjust better in the darkness encasing them. Before them the Simmons place loomed like a sinister behemoth, more cryptic and unwelcoming than it certainly was that bright and blustery afternoon not long ago.
If someone had told Misty she was going to return to the dilapidated dwelling—after midnight, besides—she would have either laughed in their face or pummeled them, depending on her present mood. The purpose of their impromptu revisit notwithstanding, she couldn't help but quiver in the shadow of the place. In this setting particularly, it gave the undeniable guise of a bona fide haunted house. It was hard to fathom that Pikachu and Team Rocket could even be in there, it looked so deserted. Yet as chilling as the notion of people lurking in that house was, hopefully it was precisely the case. Nestling Togepi close to her bosom and taking a deep breath, she hustled to keep up alongside her friends. She could feel the toes of her shoes catching small ruts in the ground, and instinctively placed a balancing hand on Brock's shoulder.
Quite the reverse of his girlfriend's continued reluctance, Ash was a ball of bounded energy, prepared to do anything to get Pikachu. The sight of the dark house did not intimidate him in the least. He'd faced more daunting obstacles. Trailing behind Jay only wore at his patience; his feet itched to dash through the overgrown yard and into the home, pokéballs at his disposal and gameness blazing. Every second that passed that Jay did not share his plan made Ash all the more keen about his envisioned method.
He understood the vigilant approach. But that didn't mean he harmonized with it.
When his father stopped beside a mass of bushes and crouched down, Ash became even more uptight.
"Dad, what are we doing?" he questioned. If Jay prolonged the reveal any longer, he thought he might lose his composure entirely.
Jay was studying the house with penetrating eyes. His expression was otherwise unreadable—Ash wasn't sure if he was concentrating on sighting indications of Pikachu's presence or actually trying to figure out a plan.
Jay suddenly took hold of Ash's arm, guiding—or rather tugging—him down to where he knelt. Unprepared, Ash practically toppled to his knees, emitting an inadvertent groan at the strain to his tailbone.
"Oops! Sorry," his dad patted his back gently in honest regret.
"What are we doing?" Ash repeated doggedly. Misty and Brock took their places beside the two Ketchums, ears peeled for direction.
"Trying to find a sign anyone's in that house," replied Jay, resolving Ash's curiosity.
"It looks empty," Brock remarked.
"It sure does, but I don't think they'd go and advertise they're in there," Jay pointed out. His attention never left the structure, leaving Ash not much to do but observe it, as well. Jay was right—if Team Rocket was indeed hiding out, they weren't exactly going to light the place up.
In spite of that factor, Ash couldn't stop his heart from accelerating with apprehension. The hollow lifelessness of the scene was making it harder to visualize anyone was in there, but he urgently tried to suppress that possibility. Pikachu had to be in there. This had to be it. And dammit, he couldn't wait around assessing the prospect instead of finding out for sure.
His shallow well of self-restraint had run dry. Ash growled in frustration as he abruptly shot to his feet. "I can't just sit here all night!" he cried. "I need to find out if Pikachu's in there!"
"Ash, NO!" Jay reacted sharply, seizing a fistful of his son's sweatshirt as he was about to take off toward the house. The arrest brought Ash to his haunches in an instant, where he was then swiveled to face his father. Determined eyes, wild with impetuousness, met stern ones.
"What do you think you're doing?! I told you, you aren't going anywhere near there!" Jay spat in a whisper. His glower then eased considerably, as did his clamp on Ash's arms. "Listen to me—I know it's hard to be patient, but you have to be. You have to be. You cannot just go running into that house. It's too dangerous, especially now. You will get hurt. Do you understand?"
Ash felt like screaming—it was the only thing he could do at the moment to release all that was bubbling in his chest. Patience was just about the most preposterous thing expected of him. How could he possibly comply and maintain the kind of self-control his father was requiring? How could they dither in the bushes when Pikachu could be in that house, lonely, scared and at the mercy of those abhorrent villains?
"We're going to get him," Jay then assured explicitly, and Ash's breathing hitched.
"But how?"
His aggrieved whimper elicited a pang in Misty's gut. Jay might not have comprehended as well as she or Brock did how trying this was for Ash. Her boyfriend was driven to action, be it wise or not, straight from his heart. When Pikachu was involved, that was only amplified dramatically. She'd seen him do far rasher things for his pokémon than storming into an abandoned house; she'd witnessed him risk his life more times than she would ever dare to disclose to his family. This was outside of Ash's comfort zone, so to speak, and he was noticeably beside himself.
"We need them out of that house—with Pikachu," Jay finally said.
"Flush them out," Brock elucidated.
Jay's eyes widened receptively. "Exactly!"
"So can't we just announce we're here?" Misty asked, confused herself. She wasn't about to do what Ash had clearly had in mind, but she didn't yet understand the need for such furtiveness, either.
Jay shook his head firmly. "No…that'll give them time to prepare."
"They can prepare all they want," Ash rebutted. He was scowling, having recovered some of his self-assurance. "We can still beat them—our pokémon outnumber theirs!"
"Yeah, but what if they have more than just pokémon?" posed Brock, referring to the wide assortment of apparatuses the trio had employed throughout their history.
"They don't have any of those here," Ash contended. There was, of course, no solid evidence backing his naïve decree, and Brock gave him a look noting that.
Brock's point aside, Jay had his own reasoning. "They may leave Pikachu in the house. I mean it, kids, I want to avoid going in there at all costs. We'll beat them, but then have a whole other challenge to face. I'd rather not—it's not safe," he reiterated deliberately again.
Misty nodded, thoroughly in accord.
"I want Team Rocket to leave the house, with Pikachu, and then we'll attack," Jay summed it up.
"So are we just going to wait?" Ash inquired dreadfully.
"No," Jay answered. Then, to everyone's surprise, a grin pried rebelliously at his mouth. "I have some ideas left over."
"Left over?" echoed his son, pulling a face. "From what?"
His amusement was brazen now, perplexing the three kids. "From the last time I found myself having to chase people out of this house."
Ash blinked, whereas Misty nearly gasped a spontaneous laugh.
"You mean us?" Ash exclaimed, unintentionally inanely.
Jay snorted. "Who else?"
"But—but you went in the house!" his son sputtered. Misty and Brock rolled their eyes simultaneously—leave it to Ash to focus more on arguing his imprudent approach than on his father's supposed depository of tactics.
"That was the daytime, son," Jay arched an eyebrow. "And besides, that's what I'd decided on doing at that moment…against some better judgment. I did have some ideas that didn't involve going in."
With that, Ash wasn't surprised. Knowing his dad well, the short drive over with nothing but his conniving brain should have yielded a fortune of schemes. Yet despite what was most likely a pesky conscience, Jay had chosen sagaciously. Ash could still remember the ache in his chest from the jolt his father had oh-so-graciously given his heart that day.
It was a completely different situation now. Ash was getting this, and could suddenly feel his dependence in Jay growing. His dad had definitely come away triumphant that day in his endeavor, and here they were again, a proven fertile playground for his ingenuity. It was an encouraging thing.
"So what ideas do you have?" Brock asked. "What can we do?"
"Well," mused Jay, now looking eager—and a tad haughty—to impart, "I did find myself unable to perform one of the really good ideas I'd thought up, regrettably…"
"How come?" Misty took the bait.
Jay gave his son a facetiously-indignant eye, who balked at the startling look. "Because my son had to go and have the noctowl, not me."
"Huh?" Ash jerked in confusion. "Noctowl?"
"Yup."
The shrewd expression on Jay's face was making Ash slightly worked up. He couldn't figure out what he was alluding to. What did Noctowl have that could have possibly aided in his father's mischief?
When it was clear he was not catching on immediately, Jay shook his head inoffensively. "Oh, Ash, I know you know what we can do here."
Ash rapidly felt pressured, leading to a prickling of irritation: why was his dad testing him? His head began to spin. Jay was known to, on occasion, arbitrarily quiz him on training-related things, with the intent on sharpening his son's skills using real-time circumstances. Normally Ash appreciated the challenges, not to mention the chance to talk pokémon with his dad, but now was hardly the time and place.
"Dad—" he began tetchily.
"What did the Blair Witch like to do?" Jay probed further, interrupting Ash's attempt to complain.
It was getting worse—now his dad was tossing in movie trivia?!
"Confuse."
Ash was wrenched right out of his congealing exasperation by the voice he'd least expected to hear. He wasn't alone—both his and Brock's heads whipped around to gape in stupefaction at the group's unlikeliest consultant on Blair Witch particulars.
Jay, on the other hand, grinned unreservedly, not seeming at all disappointed with the girl for chiming in with the correct answer instead of Ash. "Right! And what can noctowl do?"
This stumped Misty, whose brow furrowed in thought. With her assist, Ash, in spite of himself, couldn't help but feel his annoyance swap with the inevitable impulse to try to connect the two factors. Sure, it was easier to implore for instant disclosure from his dad on the clever scheme he was clearly very pleased to have concocted, but Ash grudgingly realized he did have something to offer. After all, this was his forte.
Noctowl—confusing?
Think, dammit! he commanded himself, helplessly convinced that the stress of the situation was clouding his brain too much to do so effectively.
But then, much like it did in the heat of the competitive battles in which he shined, it struck him. Every smidgen of frustration dissolved as he locked the pieces together, and his eyes became round with insight at Jay's imaginative proposal.
"Hypnosis."
Perhaps he shouldn't have regarded his father so resentfully when he'd been encouraged to decipher Jay's plan on his own. Because the sensation of achievement that overtook him, coupled with the undeniable look of pride his father bestowed upon him, was tremendous. Ash was suddenly filled not only with optimism, but the same kind of roguish exhilaration Jay surely was.
His dad's wily, bald-faced smile, not unlike the one he exhibited the first time they'd all found themselves at this very site, radiated in the dark. "What do you say we have the, eh, 'Blair Witch' pay a visit to our lovely jokesters?"
Meowth released a colossal yawn, stretched his limbs, and settled back into his vigilant perch at the grimy window.
He was keeping watch much longer than he'd originally intended to. They had decided to take turns not long after Jessie had returned with the news that other agents were being sent to take Pikachu off their hands, to keep a lookout for both their allies and their enemies. Meowth volunteered to go first, but he honestly hadn't expected his two cohorts to go and fall asleep. How they could even achieve that Meowth found boggling; he was too wound up. At least on Jessie's part it was conceivable—who knew how many miles she'd trekked to make the phone call. But James…well, the amount of hand-wringing he'd done that day would've done anyone in, come to think of it.
Still, shouldn't they have been all keyed up with the prospect of finally completing this mission? Especially after all the unnecessary delays Jessie had instigated? Meowth sure was. Which was why he found himself becoming edgier and edgier as the minutes wore on.
"Where are dose guys?" he muttered, absentmindedly clawing away at the chipping paint on the sill. Jessie had advised they were most likely going to show up well into the night. Meowth was starting to worry, though…as well as harbor suspicions. He felt a bit guilty doing so, but Jessie had brought it upon herself. How many times in the past few days had she beguiled them to get another prank in? Meowth sincerely doubted she was misleading them this time, but there was always the possibility that their follow teammates were lost or had been hindered somehow. They were relying solely on their aid. Shouldn't they have also had an alternate plan?
Hopefully, it wouldn't be necessary. Hopefully, their organization would follow through with their pledge of reinforcements. And hopefully, it would transpire without incident—soon.
Meowth had never been so ready to get Pikachu out of their possession.
They'd snuffed any light some time ago, but Meowth was still able to see rather capably. He stole a peek across the room at their captive, an occasional duty quite dreaded but critically essential. Meowth hated to be reminded of the appalling shape Pikachu was in. He still couldn't understand why the mouse declined to eat this entire time. Sickness was one thing, but if the self-destructive act was only out of plain rebuttal? Meowth could never envision himself resorting to the same willfulness.
He just prayed Pikachu would be fairly useful to the boss when this was all said and done. Because if the pokémon was in a deplorable enough state to render him valueless, Pikachu was the last individual Giovanni was going to hold accountable.
After the quick check, Meowth's attention returned to the endless dark out the window. He was probing for any signs of movement, any indication of visitors of any sort. For the past hour, the world was at a standstill. He had the window open a crack in order to pick up on any telling noises, but all he'd heard was the mild breeze singing through the tree branches and the groaning of the old house. It was a pleasant autumn evening, albeit chilly, and Meowth figured he'd have no problem making contact with the agents when they decided to show up.
Jessie claimed she had instructed them to just enter the house, but Meowth felt the need to verify it was indeed friendly forces. Admittedly, the thought of hearing footfall ascend the stairs out of the blue kind of creeped the cat out.
James suddenly snorted in his sleep and stirred, but merely rolled over in his sleeping bag and became motionless again. Meowth frowned; he probably wouldn't have left his post at the window, but would have appreciated some company in his vigil.
"Bet dey'll wake up all smiles t'take da credit when da help arrives, dough," he griped.
At this point, Meowth wasn't even looking for his fair share of the glory. He just wanted the episode over so they could finally move on.
So naturally, it was the whole "watched pot" scenario. For a moment, Meowth considered a new window. But that would entail moving to another room, and moreover, from this vantage he had a clear view of the side yard and the most plausible entrance the agents would utilize. As such, he would remain where he was. So long as his snoozing partners were making themselves completely useless, at least.
Which meant that he could very well be in it for the long haul.
…Or…maybe not.
All of a sudden, Meowth's ears went fully erect as he picked up a new sound. It was rustling—the distinct crunching and swishing of leaves, precisely. Every nerve in his body tingled intently. Something was on the move in the undergrowth surrounding the house, but try as he might, Meowth couldn't immediately spot any movement associated with the noise through the murkiness of the glass. There was little doubt about it, however—the source was nearby.
His heart pumped vigorously with excitement, as well as a touch of anxiousness. What he couldn't see his hearing was more than making up for, quickly ascertaining the fact that this was not a human. These were not bipedal footsteps, but it didn't disillusion Meowth. For all he knew, his fellow agents could easily have sent their pokémon to assess the situation before proceeding. It was done often—and made sense this time around, considering the untrusted location.
Dey're here—finally! he couldn't help but rejoice to himself, continuing to survey the area to identify their new visitor as best he could.
Except...it now seemed to be visitors.
Meowth found his head involuntarily lobbing to and fro as the sounds were abruptly in stereo, one originating from the front of the house and another from the back. Again, it was not the presence of people Meowth was detecting—these were smaller creatures, pokémon completely concealed by the long, dead grass and overrun bushes. And they weren't prowling around, either, Meowth noticed to his confusion. They were…running?
Okay…dey sent out a coupla pokémon to check out all sides, he reasoned. Who just happened to be doing so in an inexplicable rush.
Only a couple of pokémon had swiftly become several. Meowth's eyes widened, overwhelmed by the sudden burst of activity in the fringes of the old house's yard. What in the world was going on? Left, right, directly below him…the mysterious presences were coming and going in all directions, their paths seemingly crisscrossed. Finally too frustrated with his limited vision, Meowth wedged his paws beneath the windowpane and heaved the old wood up enough to stick his head through to the outside.
It took a moment for his eyesight to adjust, but he saw it just as his ears had perceived it: the vegetation below was being disturbed. In the darkness, he couldn't make out what it was that was doing the disturbing, but there was clearly multiple beings tearing through the yard at the same time…and, to Meowth's increasing bewilderment, there appeared no rhyme or reason to the disorder. There was no chasing happening here, no pursuit; if anything, it looked like play.
That set his mind buzzing a different route. Meowth quickly tried to wrack his brain to think of nocturnal pokémon that liked to frolic by the light of the moon—aside from his own species. There had to be plenty in the area. Of course that's what this was—nothing but the nightly antics of some wired pokémon, enjoying the crisp air and the bliss of freedom.
Which led to the disappointment Meowth was seeking to avoid—these were probably not their saviors after all.
"Who is it?"
Startled, Meowth's head wrenched up in a flash, and his skull smashed soundly into the window. "Yeowww!" he howled, quickly pulling himself back into the room despite the rapid onset of dizziness.
Unconcerned with his wellbeing, Jessie was beside him in an instant, her focus aimed alertly out the window. "Are they here?"
"No," Meowth managed to croak, massaging his throbbing head gingerly. He pulled his paw back instinctively to check for blood that was thankfully not there.
"No?" Jessie made a face. "Then why was your head out the window?"
"Sometin's out dere!"
"What?"
"Beats me! Sounds like a buncha pokémon just runnin' around."
Jessie growled. "Are you sure?" Without waiting for his assertion, Jessie pushed the pane up as high as it could go, dust and shards of rotting wood raining to the floor, and stuck her own head out.
"What's going on?" James was awake as well, the anticipation in his voice so sharp it was as though he'd never been asleep.
Too preoccupied to answer, Jessie listened for the sounds that Meowth had labeled, eyes narrowed either in attentiveness or irritation—it was difficult to tell. Meowth wanted nothing more than to sit down, but he was eager to confirm the slight commotion as a false alarm. At least then maybe he could have his turn at taking a rest—they owed it to him.
James hovered behind Jessie, clamoring for his own looksee, but his partner drew back brusquely and nearly collided with him. "There's nothing out there!" she complained.
"Dere was two seconds ago!" Meowth exclaimed. He dove back to the window, unable to believe that Jessie wasn't hearing what he'd been.
"Well, there isn't now! Dammit, Meowth, I was excited!"
The cat nearly hit his head again, stunned at her unjustified annoyance towards him. "Oh, dis is my fault?!"
"Where are they?" she diverted to a more burning question. She looked about ready to stomp the floor like a petulant child.
"You're askin' me?!" Meowth's exasperation came to a head, his tiny arms waving madly. "You should be da one tellin' us!"
Across the room, Pikachu picked his head up weakly at the uproar.
"Look, I was told they were coming in the middle of the night," Jessie said, her finger pointed defensively. "They want Pikachu, so we shouldn't have any reason to believe they won't show."
"Yeah, unless your directions were lousy!" countered Meowth.
"Hey!"
"Come on now, let's not fight!" James attempted to restore peace.
But silence descended upon the group with no need for James' efforts. The three crooks' attentions were stolen by a sudden, bizarre disruption just above their heads. It was the sound of scratching—a coarse, splintering noise that was unlike anything they'd heard since taking up residence in the house. It was immediately evident it wasn't something as explicable as tree branches scraping across the roof, either—it was way too uniform and significantly unfamiliar—and this was implied in the looks of alarm shared between them.
"…What's that?" James achieved the gumption to ask.
The other two didn't answer, merely shaking their heads as they continued to listen. It was not a faint sound, but not only due to the fact that nothing but a crawlspace probably separated their room and the roof. It was being done quite heavy-handedly and deliberately. And it wasn't ceasing.
"Sometin's on da roof," Meowth made the deduction that was all too obvious.
"Well, of course there is!" Jessie spat, sounding piqued but doing a terrible job veiling the stupefied nervousness laced in her voice. "But what the hell is it?!"
As the scratching intensified, long, solid, abrading drags across the shingles, their spines stiffened.
"I don't think that's our help," James estimated quaveringly.
Jessie arched her shoulders, and the frown on her face deepened. "Some—some pokémon must be sharpening its nails on the roof," she dismissed, though she didn't look as reassured with her conclusion as she may have liked to show—or feel. The enigmatic sound was rather unsettling, nonthreatening though it may have been, and try as they might, it was too hard to simply ignore.
For Meowth, this was particularly the case, as the also otherwise-explanatory bustle taking placing outside mere moments ago was still on his mind. They'd spent several nights in this house, and never before had they encountered such puzzling and unidentifiable activity. Was it just a coincidence that this night, when the end of their mission was nigh and the tension they were all housing was at its peak, was the most erratic yet?
Just like that, the scratching stopped.
"…See?" Jessie said after a hushed, pregnant pause. "It's gone. Told you it was—"
Without warning, the house itself descended into what could only be described as a violent fit of distress. The three let out a shriek as the rickety foundation began to protest loudly, creaking and groaning and even snapping, sounds so severe and almost agonizing that the trio involuntarily huddled together and grasped at each other, drifting into the center of the room as one unit.
"What's happening?!" James cried in a high-pitched voice over the clamor. The sound of tree branches whipping against the side of the house could also be heard, indicating that an outside force was the cause of the abrupt racket. A strong squall had suddenly and harshly descended upon the house, which, at first thought, was greatly disconcerting, for the night had not shown any signs of stormy conditions prior.
This wasn't just one mighty gust of wind, however, making the situation even more confounding. The burden wasn't appearing to let up. The house continued to grind and moan. It was as though they were entombed in an endless wind tunnel, relentlessly testing the frail structure. Team Rocket could only brace themselves, their eyes wide with fright and hearts and minds racing as the utterly peculiar disturbance raged on.
"What is dis, a hurricane?!" exclaimed Meowth.
"Out of nowhere?!" Jessie argued.
"It sounds like the house is coming apart!" wailed James.
"James, the house is not coming apart!" she yelled, though refuting his ridiculous claim didn't help comfort her one bit.
James was unconvinced. "We gotta get outta here!"
"Are you crazy?! And go where?" challenged Jessie. "Into a storm?!"
"Are you really sure dis is a storm?" Meowth dared to question.
His teammate's eyes widened, a nerve of fear noticeably struck, but Jessie quickly shook it off and hardened the look into a glower. "What else could it be?!"
"But where did it come from?" wondered James desperately.
"And when's it gonna stop?" Meowth added.
"I don't know!" Jessie screamed, unable to produce a better response. Though she didn't want to admit it to them much less herself, she was scared. Her brain could not come up with any conceivable explanation for the bizarre event they were experiencing. How could one night go from complete calmness, boredom even as they painstakingly waited, to this sheer calamity? Was this some type of crazy dream she was about to wake up from, to find that the agents promised to deliver their relief had arrived?
Just when they were convinced the chaos would never stop, everything became still. Only…it became too still. The trees outside were static. The house sat soundlessly. No residual blasts…not even a breeze. Slowly, uncertainly, Jessie, James and Meowth rose from their cowering postures and looked at each other, their pale faces unmistakable even in the unlit room.
Storms didn't just end like that.
"What's going on?" Meowth finally asked after what seemed like minutes of little breathing and much trembling. The presences on the ground, the scratching, the phantom tempest—all of these had taken place in the timespan of less than ten minutes. One confounding thing after another, each more troubling than the last.
"I don't know," James spoke up, "but I say we grab our stuff and Pikachu and start heading to headquarters ourselves! I don't want to spend another minute in here!"
Despite her wobbly knees and a voice to match, Jessie was not pleased with his plan. "No way! We have to wait here for the other agents! We can't just leave now after they're expecting to find us here!"
"So we'll meet dem along da way!" Meowth advocated. Teaming up with James was a no-brainer for him. Disturbing incidents or not, he was beyond fed up with their sojourn in the house, and that was the final straw.
"We aren't going anywhere!" Jessie maintained inflexibly.
Suddenly James growled, his hands balling into white-knuckled fists. "Yes we are, Jessie!" he shouted in an uncharacteristic burst of firmness. Jessie's head jerked back, startled at his unforeseen refusal and his hard eyes. "You've been making the decisions long enough! It's time now for me and Meowth to have a say in what we do next!"
But Jessie recovered fast, doubling over in impassioned argument. "It's not your decision anymore, James! Or mine! It's headquarters! We need to stay put!"
"Nothing is keeping us here!"
"Yes, there is! Our obligation to our team!"
"You gave up that obligation days ago!"
Her mouth hung open, prepared to retaliate, but alas, no words emerged. James straightened, panting, knowing he'd muzzled her with the reality-check she no doubt wanted to conveniently gloss over. And he had to confess, it made him feel greatly restored, not to mention reenergized.
There would be time later to sort out all the emotions sizzling between the two of them in the aftermath of his outburst—and the heist as a whole. Right now they needed to act, to do what they should have done days earlier. At last, mercifully, Jessie looked overruled, bitterly willing to concede to the correct course of action. It had taken a series of creepy events to make that happen, but James, quite truthfully, was willing to endure the circumstances if that's what ultimately resulted.
Unless, of course, the circumstances had yet to abate.
They didn't have the opportunity to begin assembling their wits, much less their possessions and their hostage, as the terrible scratching resumed. Except it was instantly clear it was no longer coming from the roof. Worse, it didn't just sound closer—it felt closer. Jessie and James' scalps prickled; Meowth's fur stood completely on end. Aggressions between them were instantly forgotten. They knew they were no longer alone. Hesitantly, dreadfully, the three rotated towards the foreboding source of the sensation, the one unfortunate place in which they realized they were the most precariously exposed: the window Jessie had thrust open in her manic need to validate Meowth's claims.
What they then beheld made their blood run cold in their veins. A dark, ethereal form filled the window frame almost entirely, its frontal features chillingly obscured as the moon broke through the clouds at that very moment, silhouetting it against a brightening sky. The trio was rendered paralyzed, unable to do anything but gape at the figure, intrinsically striving to recognize it as something wholly and absolutely harmless in the face of all of their faculties betraying them.
The presence wasn't aiming to let that happen. All of a sudden, in the infinite void of its featureless black face, two bright, red orbs flamed ominously. It sent the agents' hearts right into their throats. Their legs felt as flimsy as toothpicks. Within the blink of an eye, the entity had transformed, its rounded body lengthened and broadened and, if possible, even darker than it had appeared not a second prior. It no longer bared the look of a beast, but that of a person—and one not too warm and friendly at that. With a wide, imposing sweep, it spread and lifted its arms high into the air.
The screams that had been stifled by their incapacitating horror unleashed, resonating against the hollow walls of the decrepit house.
"RUN!"
"Let's get out of here!"
"Move! Go, go!"
Mired by the darkness and their own panic, the petrified agents stumbled over themselves as they hastened to get out of the room. They pushed and shoved, fighting each other without even realizing it, as they careened into the hall, down the staircase, through the kitchen. They collided with and tripped over the refuse strewn throughout, but it only hindered them a second before they regained their traction. Nothing would long thwart their escape from the confines of the vile place and the unspeakable thing they'd just seen.
Outside, they were met with a sight equally as menacing as the one from which they'd just fled.
Team Rocket skidded to a halt before they made it off the back porch. It only took the gleam of moonlight to see the line of assorted and, unfortunately, instantly familiar pokémon that stretched across the yard, blocking any possible route away from the property. In a flash, the memory of the sinister apparition vanished, replaced with shock, a new brand of consternation, and for Jessie, a rush of anger that made her teeth go from clattering to clenched. Very quickly, she recognized that not only had they been found and outrageously deceived, but who it was that was front and center of the surprise ambush.
Her eyes locked odiously with the reviled man's, who virtually returned an identical look, and a silent, blistering stare-down commenced. It was as though the three brats weren't even in attendance—that is, until one of them bellowed the words that rattled her straight to her core.
"WHERE'S PIKACHU?!"
Jessie's stomach knotted, realizing that in their hurry they'd left Pikachu upstairs. She couldn't believe they'd been reduced to such pitiful scaredy-cats that they'd done something so negligent, so stupid, yet there was no way she was going to reveal that to their confronters. And there was unquestionably no way she was going to surrender the mouse—not without a fight, not after everything they'd achieved so flawlessly up to this point. Her external features remained steely, but inside, she was writhing.
How was this happening?! The recollection of her recent feats had her heart hammering with dismay. She tried desperately to figure out what it was that had gone wrong, how in the hell these fools had possibly located them, at the same time attempting to formulate a critical, immediate plan of action. Because one thing lamentably was for sure: the twerps, with their charged, gathered army, were prepared; Team Rocket was not.
"Jessie…" James whispered fretfully, grasping just that.
"What do you mean, 'where's Pikachu?'" she decided to feign innocence, glaring at the visibly seething boy. "What makes you think we have him?"
Ash was having none of her charade. "I know you have him!" he screeched. "Now give him back to me!"
The pitch of his voice was so hysterical it added to the pressure already felt by the wall of pokémon pointed imposingly their way. Team Rocket had been faced with many zealous sides of the young man, but it was this version that managed to perturb them. They were dealing with a markedly upset Ash Ketchum, and it was fairly certain his little posse shared similar sentiments.
Sure enough, the boy's despicable father stepped forward to bolster the demand. "If you know what's good for you, I suggest you do just that."
Loathing boiled in Jessie's gut, but it didn't completely damper the intimidation he still shamefully made her feel. "I don't answer to you."
"You answer to all of us," the eldest twerp spoke up.
"Give us back Pikachu!" commanded the girl.
"You think we're going to give him up, just like that?!" Jessie's irritation prompted her to quickly drop the act. The expression that kindled on Ash's face indicated she may have underestimated his present frame of mind. The child looked both ready to sob with relief and to kill.
"So you do have him! Give him back to me, RIGHT NOW!"
"Jessieeee, what are we gonna do?" persisted James. He was going to pieces beside her, and he certainly had a right to be.
When Jessie impulsively went for her pokéballs, items luckily not amongst the others that they'd left behind in the house, she realized regrettably it wasn't going to make a difference—and, naturally, the twerp's father had to make rather unnecessary note of it.
"I wouldn't even think about it," he warned. She wanted nothing more than to resist him out of pure spite, but her fingers still delayed consciously over Arbok and Wobbuffet's balls. "You're outnumbered, and you know you are. You don't stand a chance."
"Wouldn't you love to think that?! You have no idea what we're capable of!" she rejoined, stressing confidence she despised to admit to herself was unfounded.
But they couldn't give up, no matter the odds—they couldn't! It wasn't in their lifeblood, and it certainly wasn't a conclusion to her epically prodigious plan Jessie was just going to allow come to pass.
However…she wasn't blind to the reality that was swiftly—and gravely—revealing itself. It was painfully evident that their four pokémon—and Meowth, too, if he felt up to the task—would flounder against what looked like every pokémon the goody two-shoes had in their possession. There were a handful that were unfamiliar—a nidoran and feraligatr at quick scan—indicating that the man had supplied a few from his own team, pokémon whose levels and calibers Team Rocket had no knowledge of but could only speculate were strong based on the nasty memory of his arcanine's power.
"Maybe I don't—go ahead and show me," goaded the man. "But I'm just saying this: the minute our pokémon wipe out yours, which they will, you're next."
The trio couldn't help but gulp at the threat, spoken with such menacing poise and a lethal glare to go along with it.
"There aren't any rules here," he went on. "There'll be no one-on-one. All of ours against yours, all at once." Alongside him, the twerp was shooting fierce daggers of his own at them, his appearance plagued yet rigid, buttressed by his father's stable grasp on the situation. It made Jessie's nerves spasm with fury. How she wanted to slap that look off the little monster's face. None of this was fair. How had they ended up in this position?! They had been so close.
And the imbecile was still prattling on. "You'd better believe me when I tell you that I will do anything to get my boy's pikachu back. And that includes siccing my pokémon on you. I've done it before, and I sure as hell will do it again."
The advisory was composed though indisputably no-nonsense; there was no hint of fabrication in his tone. He would be true to his word; of that, they were all too mindful. Yet Jessie, James, and Meowth stayed stationary, preserving the guise of standing their ground when they knew that ground was as stable as the rotting floorboards beneath their feet.
"So I'd strongly suggest you hand Pikachu over, and maybe, maybe, I'll let you get out of here without a fire spin on your sorry asses."
That statement invigorated Ash. His lips curled back in a ferocious snarl and he threw down his fists adamantly. "So give him back to me—now!" he mandated.
Any smidgen of fear Jessie felt from Jay's words was immediately eclipsed with the boy's obnoxious input. Who was he—or his insufferable father—to offer such ultimatums? Did they really think they were just going to mosey on back up to the room and forfeit Pikachu and go on their merry way?! No. Not happening. Not after everything they had sacrificed. Not after how close they'd been to victory. Not after…Jessie owned up to the fact that this turn of events was inevitably due to her.
It wasn't just about maintaining possession of Pikachu anymore…it was about saving face.
"Fat chance!" she took great pleasure in spitting back at Jay, whose eyes narrowed to provoked slits. "The rat's not leaving us."
Suddenly, the cool and collected façade vanished as the man gestured furiously to the legion of pokémon between them. "You think they're not ready?! Huh?!" Jessie flinched at the timbre of his uncompromising voice—and hated that she did. "One word and you three will be gone!"
"We'll blast you off to smithereens!" Ash declared.
"Jessie?" Meowth ventured nervously. "I hate ta say it, but dis doesn't look so good…"
James quivered as his eyes roamed the pokémon slated to strike. The dark surely didn't help in diminishing the peril. "Please tell me you have a plan C…?"
Tragically, there was no such thing. Jessie couldn't bring herself to meet her partners' eyes, knowing ruefully that while she could exude all the valiant obstinacy in the world, what they needed they didn't have. She might have been foolish, but she definitely wasn't dimwitted. Who was she kidding? They had nothing to promise even a slim chance of victory. They were discouragingly outmatched, had no gadgets to utilize, and worst of all, they were exhausted. It was then that Jessie comprehended, among other things, just how much she had overexerted herself the last few days, as well as James and Meowth, in her pursuit to not only fulfill their boss's appeals but satisfy her own self-seeking desire.
They were nowhere near their optimum to take on this challenge—take on…that man. That riled Jessie the most, but it was also what made her ultimately accept the defeat they were about to be dealt. Again.
Their foes' pokémon were growing fractious, fervently awaiting command. The only thing matching Jessie's despondency was her burning resentment. In a way, she still yearned for this to be her final row with the twerps, be done with them for good, win or lose, but her pride simply wouldn't tolerate it. It wasn't in the cards, besides. After they were blasted off to God-knows-where, after they licked their wounds, both physically and psychologically, the boss would send them back out on the assignment. The assignment that would be won next time, so help her. Although she wondered just how much say she'd have in the plan, if James and Meowth even allowed it at all.
This forthcoming loss stung, but her motivation was already revitalizing. The twerps were going to come away with another battle victory, but the war was far from over. Nonetheless, there was no way she could possibly grant them the satisfaction of a humiliating retreat. How dare that loser expect them to wave the white flag and withdraw ingloriously! Jessie was never one to deliver a mediocre entrance or exit. For the last few days, she had called the shots. She was going to continue doing so with this one final action—make this mission completely hers.
And so, knowing full well the reaction her next move would trigger, Jessie boldly committed and reached for Arbok's pokéball.
"Hold your breath," she mumbled.
"Huh?!" James freaked at her vague instruction.
Jessie didn't reply; she just remained heedful of grasping tightly to her snake's pokéball. She'd lost so much in one evening—she wasn't about to lose him.
I'll get you all for this next time—I swear.
What ensued next was a flurry of combat of the grandest scale—decisively one-sided combat. A chorus of orders ferociously rang out and the world around them ignited, every element converging in a scene of immense grandeur. The only thing Team Rocket registered before everything became jarringly, painfully blurred was just how…extraordinary it was to behold. To feel it, on the other hand, was a completely different thing.
In some consolation, Jessie would reflect upon later on, perhaps it was only fitting that her most marvelous scheme—the final result aside—had ended on the most impressively explosive of notes. Because it proved one thing in which she was fruitfully victorious: she'd tormented those miserable twerps enough to earn the very finest each of their pokémon had to offer.
And ironically, all minus, not lacking, the participation of the one pokémon they suffered considerably to thieve.
With Team Rocket spectacularly out of the picture, Ash's attention was promptly fixated on the Simmons place, his shoulders rising and falling heavily as he labored to catch his breath.
"Pikachu?!" he cried up frantically at the house. "Pikachu, are you in there? Are you okay? Answer me!"
"Ash, shh, shh, shh," Jay snatched his arm, lightly cautioning him to get a hold of himself.
That was going to be no simple task in the heat of this moment. Ash was still terribly unglued despite the fact that, arguably, the toughest part of their mission was behind them. "Dad, he's in there, we gotta get him out—"
"I know, I know," replied Jay, chewing his lip as he surveyed the situation himself. Despite abolishing the dastardly trio, it was disappointing that they had exited the house without Pikachu, foiling the plan he'd been counting on and facing them with an undertaking he'd wanted avidly to avoid.
"Please let me go, I have to find him!" Ash beseeched. He wrenched his arm free of his dad's clutch but danced in place restively, a tiny part of him still responsibly seeking permission.
"Ash, you can't! It's too dark!" Misty objected.
"Then what are we going to do?! He's not answering me!" He spun back to the house feverishly. "PIKACHU!" he hollered through cupped hands, singeing his throat.
"Ash, chill out! If we can't go in there, why not send some of our pokémon in?" Brock suggested. Considering the remarkable success in utilizing the creatures to scare Team Rocket out of the house, everyone was immediately stirred.
"Are you sure it's safe for them, too, though?" Misty winced hesitantly.
"They'd be better suited for the task than us," Jay pointed out. With all sorts of inborn facilities represented across their diverse team, it was certainly a more practical, smart approach.
No one latched on to the idea more keenly than Ash, who wordlessly wasted no time in scanning the group before him. It was impossible not to reflect on the roles they'd already skillfully played in the operation at the same time. Cyndaquil, Totodile, Pineco, his dad's vaporeon, who'd basked in the command to romp around friskily but silently in the house's yard. Crobat and Poliwhirl, whose awe-inspiring whirlwind and water gun, respectively, had set the old house shaking and quaking. Not to mention those who'd joined in on the dazzling attack on Team Rocket; some were observably winded and spent, but Ash knew any one of them would be willing to give just a little more in order to rescue their counterpart.
He had to look no further when his eyes settled on Noctowl, however. His incredible, reliable, accomplished charge…Ash's chest immediately filled with exhilaration and pride recalling what Noctowl had done. His dad had been dead-on that the pokémon would be a marvelous asset to the mission. Truthfully, Noctowl, above all, owed them nothing more, but Ash knew he was right for the next job and was going to wholeheartedly call upon him again. The owl sensed this, too, extending his wings amenably—the very same ones that had terrorized their enemies so exceptionally—granting his trainer eager reception.
"Noctowl, I know you can find Pikachu in that house," Ash relayed his trust to the bird. His voice shook nervously, though. "Please—find him. I know you can bring him to me. Go!" He sent him off with an encouraging toss of his arm, realizing Noctowl required no more instruction.
Noctowl chirped spiritedly and launched into the air. Sure enough, he seemed to know precisely where to go, flapping his way back to the same window he'd made his notable appearance to Team Rocket. Ash's stomach somersaulted and his eyes burned with expectant tears as he watched the scene restlessly. He could feel Misty hook her arm around his and his dad's hefty, supportive hands settle atop his shoulders. No one spoke a word—it wasn't necessary. Even the assembly of pokémon surrounding them fortified him with quiet reassurance.
Please, please, please, please, Ash chanted in prayer as the seconds passed agonizingly. He raised his hands to his face, almost as if afraid to keep watching. The suspense plucked at every overwrought nerve in his body. Please, please, please…
Misty gave his arm a tight, faithful squeeze. This was the moment of truth, and as badly as they'd all longed for this, it seemed so surreal.
A second later, Noctowl reemerged from the darkness, a bulky black mass suspended precariously from his talons. Struggling from the exertion, he was summoning all of his strength, beating his wings fiercely, to bring the object inelegantly yet safely to the ground in front of the back porch. Letting out a cry, Ash tore from Jay and Misty's caring clutches and bolted towards the site, unconsciously and ably zipping through the dense bramble. The throb of his tender body was a mere afterthought.
"Pikachu! Pikachu!" Obscured by the shadow of the house, Ash could hardly see what was before him and was forced to haul the heavy cage into the moonlight without a tick of indecision.
His family was beside him in an instant, flashlights shining erratically at the cage. The bobbling light was enough for Ash to notice his beloved pokémon was indeed confined within…but, to his distress, he wasn't moving.
"Pikachu!" he bawled, though no response followed. Ash's heart pounded against his ribcage. Why wasn't Pikachu answering him?! What was wrong with him?! Desperately, Ash began hunting for the door to the crate, tugging and ripping at whatever looked like a latch or hinge, but his fumbling hands were accomplishing nothing.
"Help me!" he implored to no one in particular.
"Here, move away!" Jay ordered, falling to his knees beside the cage and getting right to work. Ash's fingers dragged down his face as he watched his father strain to free Pikachu. His motionless, silent pikachu.
"Shit!" Jay cursed through gritted teeth. "How do you open this damn thing?!"
"Dad!" wailed Ash. Misty found his arm to grasp once again. "Please get it open!"
But Jay wasn't finding much success; Ash could hear him wheezing irritably at his struggle. The little clear vision he had of the scene unfolding was becoming hazier with the surge of tears.
"I—I think I found the latch," Jay revealed, "but I can't get it to open… It's not locked—it's—it's stuck or jammed, or something…!"
"Th-then let me try again—!" Ash demanded impulsively.
"No, no, I know what to do!" Brock suddenly interjected. There was something in his voice that seized Ash's attention through his panic, gave the air about them a much-needed boost of optimism. "Geodude!"
His trusty rock pokémon was at his side instantaneously. As his defensive prowess had not been required in the removal of Team Rocket, Geodude was keyed up and ready to be a factor in the ongoing activity.
"Let's let Geodude have a try at getting that cage open," Brock proposed.
"Oh, good idea, Brock," Misty hailed, though she did so reticently as the situation was still intensely dire.
Jay guided Ash aside as Brock pointed his pokémon to the crate. "Geodude, see if you can get that cage open so we can get Pikachu out!" he commanded.
"Dude!"
At once, Geodude took the crate in his solid, oversized hands. He had no mind to find the opening; he simply grabbed at two of the narrow bars and pried. Ash would have held his breath if the work had taken any extended amount of time. Blessedly, a fraction of Geodude's strength was all that was necessary, and to Ash's thrill, the bars yielded like pliable wire in the pokémon's mighty grip. Job completed, Geodude dutifully withdrew to emphatic praise from Brock as Ash descended upon the crate again.
"Pikachu?" he appealed apprehensively, his hands hovering tentatively over the gap in the bars. He couldn't believe what he was beholding: Pikachu, his precious friend, the source of his greatest fulfillment and likewise his most severe grief, was right there before him. Right there. Ash could touch him. And yet…he wasn't. Instead of the immense joy and relief Ash had anticipated, his heart was gripped with the most overwhelming alarm he thought he'd ever felt.
Pikachu still lay immobile in the cage. After all the tumult that had just occurred, Ash knew that was not a promising sign.
No. Oh no, please, no…
"Ash?" Misty asked behind him. "What's the matter? I-is he okay?"
Of course! He has to be! He has to be…
Part of him craved to reach in and snatch Pikachu, while another part of him—a more dominant part—vacillated, utterly terrified of discovering something he knew would destroy him if indeed the case. His head seemed to shake numbly on its own. This wasn't right; this was supposed to be a moment of celebration, of thankfulness. What should have been the answer to his powerful, infinite prayers had suddenly become the need for more. What should have been a dream come true was swiftly turning into a nightmare.
He didn't intend to ignore his girlfriend, but doing so answered her just the same.
"Pikachu?" he gave him another try. When the mouse continued to offer no response, Ash swallowed the massive lump in his throat. The dread was staggering, yet he nevertheless acknowledged what needed to be done. His heart beating fitfully but invoking the courage he knew he would ultimately have to face, he finally reached into the crate. In the end, this was his responsibility to assume.
His eyes rapidly swelled with tears as his hand lay upon Pikachu, but it took him a second or so to realize why: Pikachu was warm. Pikachu was breathing.
"Pikachu?!"
With trembling but eager hands, Ash closed his fingers around Pikachu's limp body and carefully extracted him from the cage. The crutch of his haunches gave way and he lost his balance, falling to his rear end on the leaf-blanketed ground. Disregarding the awful zap of pain that resulted, he cradled Pikachu high on his chest, gazing down at his unresponsive features.
"Pikachu? Hey, hey, Pikachu, wake up, buddy. It's me. Wake up. C'mon!" he gently but urgently crooned, intuitively rocking the pokémon like an infant and kneading his side, encouraging him to rouse. He anxiously inspected every part of the mouse, tip to tail. It was hard to see details in the poor light. He was, however, in disbelief over what Pikachu felt like—not only was he strikingly lighter, but his fur, normally firm, silky and healthy, was dull to the touch.
What did they do to you? he wondered brokenheartedly.
He could sense his family and friends suspended over him inaudibly, allowing him this personal moment with Pikachu. Their support was acutely felt, though, and Ash was leaning on it far more than they were aware as he continued his efforts to revive his best pal.
"I've got you now," he told Pikachu, his voice collapsing as the urge to cry could no longer be suppressed. He jostled the mouse lightly with every word spoken, tears dripping off his nose. "You're back with me, you're safe now. I'll never let you get taken ever again, I promise. C'mon, Pikachu, come on. Wake up. Please?"
Pikachu didn't so much as twitch. Ash's breathing increased, loud, desperate gasps for air in between his sobs. Pikachu had to come around. Ash refused to accept it ending any other way. It couldn't—how could fate permit it? After all the sorrow he'd endured these past couple of days, the anguish he'd wreaked on his family and friends; after everything he and Pikachu had been through together, survived together…their luck couldn't have possibly run out here, in the yard of one of his treasured childhood haunts…could it? Ash wasn't going to lose Pikachu when he'd just gotten him back, due in great part to the unwavering devotion of the people and pokémon encircling them…was he?
He gave the pokémon one more desperate, firm shake. "Please, Pikachu, please!"
And then, miraculously, Pikachu began to stir. It was subtle, but enough to make Ash gasp and his heart to hasten with unimaginable relief. He waited, indulging in every movement the mouse made in his unsteady arms, clinging to his faith for all it was worth. Little by little, Pikachu squirmed more, curling his tail, flicking his ears, even producing some faint, awakening chirps. The boy heaved a grateful if not incredulous sob as it finally felt safe enough to let his lips part into a smile.
"…Pikachu?" he bid hopefully one last time.
At last, Pikachu's eyes fluttered open feebly, and his head rolled towards Ash's voice.
"…Pika…pi?"
Ash couldn't check the short laugh that burst jubilantly from his throat. "There you go," he wept, proceeding to bury his face in Pikachu's belly. "There you go, Pikachu. You're all right. You're gonna be all right!"
Unable to abstain any longer, Misty threw herself down over Ash, her arm swooping around his chest in the strongest, most unequivocal hug she could muster. "Thank God," she exulted, her own voice tottering. It was not an embrace she expected Ash to return, but shockingly he removed one of his arms from Pikachu and coiled it around her neck from behind, drawing her head firmly nearer to his.
"Thank God, indeed," Jay muttered incredulously. He paced around briefly, coming to terms with what had taken place, before squatting beside his son and placing a demonstrative hand on his head, sharing in the joy and solace.
Ash lifted his flushed face from Pikachu to acknowledge his father, offering Jay an indebted smile.
"We got 'im back, Dad," he whispered.
Lingering for a moment to absorb Ash's euphoria, something he'd prayed intensely to witness again, Jay replied ardently, "I see that."
"Thank you." Ash fought vainly to subdue another sob.
Jay huffed, humbly accepting the recognition, but shook his head. Ash's overt emotions were making it a trial to curb his; tears brimmed in his eyes. "It wasn't just me."
Ash nodded, comprehending. "Yeah...I—I know..."
His wet eyes then swept around him, noting the gathering of unrecalled pokémon that were watching the moving scene play out. They'd all contributed in some way, even if just by being present, on alert. Ash wouldn't have expected anything less; their loyalty was indisputable.
In the midst of them all, watching over the remarkable flock, was Brock, his arms crossed over his chest. He granted Ash a heartfelt nod, which Ash returned. What would he have done without Brock's level head, the quick-thinking he'd deployed under tension Ash admitted he couldn't handle? And who would've thought how superbly akin to a disturbing witch he looked in his baggy black hoodie, the perfect model for Noctowl's reference?
Then there was the girl whose arms were still squeezing him as if her life—or his—depended on it. Ash couldn't begin to measure the unpleasant lengths Misty had gone through to care for him, shelter him through his heartrending ordeal. Not to mention the fear she'd bravely repressed to help him. Who rose above their individual occasion more than she did? Pikachu was the core of his life's passion, but Misty was the love of his life.
Ash felt as though his chest was going to rupture from a combination of his still-racing heart and the enormous sensation of fortune of having loved ones who would sincerely do anything for him.
How could he have ever doubted that?
"…I know."
Pikachu burrowed his nose affectionately into the crook of Ash's arm and fell into comfortable slumber.
STAY TUNED FOR THE EPILOGUE!
Can you actually believe what the above says? :) This story is actually going to come to end with the next chapter! Which you know will take months to appear, *cough.* Well, maybe not. It's not going to be as long as all previous 13 chapters, so who knows—you may get it next week! (But please, don't hold your breath. :P)
Wishing every a safe, happy, a spoOoOoky Halloween and a glorious Fall! Trick or treat! Reviews are sweet as candy and greatly appreciated! :) Thank you!