Chapter 1: Unspoken

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

"There is a voice that doesn't use words, listen." - Rumi

He'd grown up a lot over the years, but sometimes he'd give anything to be that dumb ten year old kid getting yelled at by an irate redhead who, admittedly, actually did know more than him at the time.

The yelling wasn't all he missed, but if it was all he could have he'd take it. As their traveling time went on, their communication grew and strengthened along the way as well. Sure they occasionally fell back into fits of rage, but that was more sporadic and specific to certain events. And to his credit he did get better at reading maps eventually so that helped too.

At some point he felt like he really knew her. So fighting gave way to talking...and talking turned into spilling long kept secrets around campfires made up of low smoldering embers. Those were the moments where their friendship was truly forged.

He remembered it as clearly as the crisp air that greeted his face when he stepped out of the tent to poke the dimming fire he'd built earlier to try and stoke it back to life.

Unconsciously, his mind drifted back to one of the earliest and one of the most consequential of their campfire discussions and the cold found ways to chill his aching soul.

"I don't know if he died, or if he left, or if he left and then maybe he died...ya know?" Ash fumbled awkwardly pulling his cap down to shield his eyes despite dim lighting of the midnight air, "one day...he just stopped showing up."

Brock snored from his sleeping bag across the camp, but blue-green eyes stared at him intently from the sleeping bag at his right.

"Which do you hope it is?"

He was thrown by the question. He'd long since thought over which was the more likely scenario, but never which scenario he wanted it to be. In reality was it better if his Dad had cared, but had passed on, or was it better that he was maybe alive and they could reconnect, but he was likely a giant jerk for abandoning his family?

"I don't know," He mumbled back lamely hoping she would drop it, but he knew she wouldn't as stubbornness ran like blood in her veins.

He wasn't even sure why he told her to begin with. They were still pretty fresh traveling companions having a mere month of adventures together so far, but the star specked sky had beckoned for something to be said given neither could find easy sleep that night. It was likely just his lack of restraint that led him to spill the topic that was actually keeping him awake.

"If I got to choose; I'd rather my parents be alive," Misty added, her voice sounded wistful, but bubbled at the end, like a soft plea over a long healed scar.

"Why?"

Hearing her make a definitive statement on the matter made his response came out sharp as if he was suddenly barbed by the pain his own father would inflict by still being alive, but a deadbeat.

"Because it's a lot harder to be angry at the void," she sighed morosely, "I'd like to yell at them for all the petty nonsense they allowed my sister's to inflict on me in childhood that will probably continue for the rest of my life. I mean, Brock gets to yell at his dad; he gets to straighten him out and make him take responsibility for his mistakes...I just get to yell at the sky and hope I get to travel long enough to make something of myself before my sisters inevitably fail at being gym leaders and I'm called back home to take on my dead parent's legacy."

"Oh...I didn't realize your parents were..." Ash mumbled lamely hoping he sounded sincere.

It was the first serious talk they'd had during their travels and it was a doozy of a topic, but somehow they stumbled through all the same.

"They've been gone a long time. It doesn't hurt like it used to. Now I'm just angry at them for leaving, which sounds absurd because they didn't have a choice, but it doesn't change my anger," Misty admitted quietly.

Ash had opened up about something big so she felt compelled to do the same. Their entire friendship was tit for tat, but in this case self depreciation was the chosen method of harm.

He moved his sleeping bag closer to hers and turned to face her. As awkward as opening up was, he felt the need to show her he was OK with a burgeoning ahead of tough topics.

When she didn't speak, but merely stared back at him with an unreadable expression and a cloudy look to her cyan eyes, he felt compelled to speak his mind again.

"I think my dad's still alive, and if he is, I'm going to beat him in a battle to show just how much I didn't need him."

She blinked at him quietly, letting his words settle into the still air and then she spoke the promised words that would stoke motivation back into him at his lowest.

"I'll be there when you do."

What he didn't realize until this particular evening as he skimmed a gloved hand over the frost tipped grass blades that stretched upwards toward the stump he was seated on, was that he hadn't actually expressed what may have happened to his father since. Sure he made cryptic remarks sometimes, but he'd never theorized or given the story of his dad leaving to another traveling companion since his time traveling with her.

Brock knew the most aside from Misty, but even he didn't have the full story outside of the short details he'd observed whenever Ash checked a gym log book for his dad's name and the half truth stories Brock had been privy to during his stay with Mrs. Ketchum after the Professor Ivy incident.

Sometimes Ash had to wonder why he hadn't felt compelled to tell any of his other traveling companions, but he didn't think that anyone else would understand it in quite the way that she did.

The vast majority of his traveling companions had parents who adored their kids and would do anything for them...not the kind that walked out when you were five and never even sent a birthday card as acknowledgment of your existence following their departure.

Either way, the memory of Misty's promise to be at his side when he did face his father had pushed him to victories where losses seemed imminent. Even after she'd ceased traveling with him those promised words brought him hope in the darkest moments.

He knew she meant it, as he heard that promise over and over when she did travel with him, not in those words per se, but in all the snark they volleyed when he was losing a match, underneath it all he could hear her promise to him running like the hum of a powerful stream under immovable earth.

Staring up at the clear, star-filled sky his mind dredged up further thoughts of his travels with the enigmatic redhead and how after that campfire talk, he'd been surprised to learn about a new form of communication.

Orange Islands...

He'd never been close enough to anyone aside from his Pokemon to engage in nonverbal communication, but as Ash and Misty spent more time together, now stumbling for the first time into the world as a duo instead of part of a trio, he found he said a lot more without words. Even with the addition of a new member to their traveling group, the trio energy remained unbalanced as Misty and Ash still remained far closer to one another than Tracey ever would be to either of them. In that way, the nonverbal communication bloomed.

It was as simple as a hand clasp when separation seemed probable or a tender touch when pain set in, be it from stun spore or otherwise. He could read panic on her face in a microsecond and when he assessed the situation it led him to wordlessly take care of her. She did the same for him, and somehow, clumsily at first, they became of one mind.

It was little eye rolls, quirked brows, fluttered lashes, pursed lips...he knew what it all meant to her and he could respond in a way that let them say everything without saying anything.

They had entire unspoken conversations when Brock rejoined the group and tortured some poor pretty girl or Team Rocket inevitably created some new dastardly plan that ultimately backfired. And the funny part was they never spoke about not speaking. It became their own subtle, secret language and while rumors spread of their changing relationship, at the core of everything they remained exceptionally close friends.

He'd never been this close to any person before, and while it scared him at first, it became a creature comfort he adapted to adore. It no longer worried him that sometimes he even found himself craving her company if they spent too long apart. Somewhere deep in his mind the gears were beginning to turn to tell him maybe he felt something stronger than friendship for this girl, as her companionship had become something he couldn't fathom losing.

And then...

And then came that awful phone call.

So this will basically be a oneshot in 5 parts, because I like the breaks I've built in to each chapter end. This chapter served as the prelude and I apologize for the jumps in time as it was necessary for later plot, but probably seemed a bit excessive at the moment.

I'll do updates on Fridays (Saturdays if I fail at Fridays) as I actually have most of this written already, and am reasonably happy with it so editing won't take much effort.

Favs, follows, and reviews are always appreciated.

-FWFT