Mihrasta's demise ended the blizzard, the heavens choosing to release hard, fast rain with the icy touch intact instead. The ground still hissed menacingly where the pokéball had melted, a few coins still dropping with a lacklustre clink as they hit the roots of the greatly skewed trees, blood still dripping from the boughs. For the eldest two in the clearing, this went by completely unnoticed, their bodies too weary and engrossed in each other to notice the dull splashes as the drops of water hit off their agonised skin. Their hearts beat a slow, rhythm, the teenagers completely synchronised in all aspects of their lives, and as one, the beating ceased.

Meowth was the first to perceive this; the second he saw their immobile forms he raced over, mewing fretfully like he was a mere kitten again, nuzzling them in a bid for his best friends to wake up. They'd faced death innumerable times together before and come away comparatively unscathed, so why, why did this have to happen now? And why did it have to be both of them, to leave him alone? He hollowly thought about how now he'd mastered Pay Day they'd never have had to face starvation again, and how his friends could never congratulate him for learning it at his age.

Tears mingled with the rain coursing its way down Misty's face, knowing exactly what the cat-type's actions meant. No matter their differences, Team Rocket had always been there, a reminder that their lives weren't as bad as they could be. It broke up their monotonous journeys that seemed to only consist of getting Ash to a gym, get lost in a forest, help some stranger and then get to another gym. Occasionally, one of them acquired a new pokémon, but none of these breaks made up for the miles of trudging they went to accomplish them. Without daring to breathe a word of it to Ash, she'd run a betting pool with Brock and some of the pokémon based on who'd guess correctly which master plan Team Rocket would use that time. She always bet cross-dressing with a large but namely useless contraption, namely because she had a distinct penchant for such plans. She'd seen him as her ideal role model as well, as he offered her the suggestion that just because you can have no curves to speak of, you can wear that sexy outfit. Although she hadn't said it to anyone, the beach contest saga had made her look past his inflatable breasts and to the undoubted sex god within. Then it hit her; she was never going to see her beloved in a leather mini skirt and his oh so beautiful makeup again.

Brock's support suddenly wasn't enough to support her and she fell gracelessly to her knees, ignorant of the inches of mulch she sank in. Togepi was not pleased with this and let out a shrill "Priiiiii!" and waved its stubby little arms around. The mud might not have been much to a human, but it covered half the egg-type's body. Its cries also went unheard, so it opted instead to sniffle wretchedly and tap its paws together, wondering how to punish those who did not offer it their undiluted attention. Ash was thinking along similar lines himself. Rage bubbled uncontrollably in the young trainer until he hit his breaking point.

"Why is nobody telling me how great I am for officially having the shiniest badges around? Worship me, now!!!"

Admittedly, Ash was not entirely satisfied with his outburst. He felt it lacked a certain taste to their situation, and felt resuming his victory stance and laughter would be much more sophisticated. He squirmed about on the spot but it just didn't feel right; he couldn't assume a pose without someone congratulating him first. If Misty had never opened her mouth asking useless questions regarding…hey that was it! It was all that blasted Team Rocket's fault. He smiled a self-righteous grin; he had just inspired his next move. And it would ensure the attention was all his.

"PIKACHU, THUNDERSHOCK THEM NOW BEFORE THEY TRY TO STEAL YOU!"

Even Togepi broke out of its trance to gape at Ash, as this new level of stupidity became apparent to them all. Brock almost opened his eyes as he turned to stare at the young trainer, wondering if his mother had ever really explained the concept of death to him. He doubted it as he thought about it; this was a woman who had an unhealthy obsession with wondering if her son was wearing clean "you-know-whats" rather than if he faced any dangerous situations when he was away from home. With a new sense of fear, he wondered if, through a severe bout of post-natal depression, she had killed Ash's father for failing to change them at least six times a day. In retrospect, he was lucky to leave that residence while he still could. She had, after all, asked both him and "Mimey" if they'd put the wash load in with varying frequency throughout the day; he'd just put it down to her being a forgetful hippie, but now he knew otherwise.

Brock wished he'd been fortunate enough to tag along with Gary; when he'd thought it before it had been the flashy sports car filled with cheerleaders in skimpy tight outfits that influenced his desires, but now he just wanted to be associated with someone with an IQ higher than a dead blade of grass. Even his "replacement" whose name he could not recall—someone who'd taken the duty of having perverted fantasies to the wrong levels as all he'd obsessed with were pencils and Professor Oak—might be someone better to hang around with, as at least nobody knew who he was, and Brock could start a name for himself again, once the stigma of being near Ash had vanished. He prayed those pencils would stay far, far away from him whilst he slept.

Clutching its pained arm despairingly, Pikachu wearily stepped forward and did as its trainer commanded. It knew if it failed to obey it would result in more posing and laughing lessons, so no matter how immoral a situation was he complied to make its life easier. Meowth's shrieks from electricity blasting through his body could not deter attention away from the humans jerking around like some sort of voodoo marionettes, so Pikachu used as much force as it was capable to get it over as soon as it possibly could. Now that he'd blasted his foes off, Ash happily resumed his haughty chuckling for saving the day, whilst his comrades looked on at him in newfound horror and disgust. Even Togepi feared for its life at witnessing this.

Crashing through the roof of a tall building mercilessly, Meowth shook off the pain and slunk out from under his friend's bodies, wondering if the shock of the events had made their adversary even stupider than usual. He heard footsteps all around him but failed to look to see where he was; none of that mattered to him anymore. He mewed as he bumped against their faces lovingly in his anguish, then stopped as he noticed faint breath coming from both of them; the electric attack had been sufficient to jolt-start their hearts it would seem. He paused in utmost disbelief as he looked around his location; although he firmly believed Ash was sub-intelligent, he was also partially wondering if the kid had some magical power embedded within or if this was just another part of the twerp's uncanny good luck. Shoved aside from his partners, doctors transported the near-dead humans to the operating theatres, calling details of their statuses to nurses running alongside, scribbling down notes onto their respective clipboards. Meowth was beyond bewildered at the likelihood of them crashing into a hospital reception.

Jessie came around a long time before James did, leaving her with in internal anguish as all her memories restored themselves fully throughout her state of unconsciousness. In floods of tears was how she spent the majority of her time awake, all the while she was fervently wishing she could have somehow realised her recollections were tainted sooner. Meowth, along with their other pokémon were currently undergoing treatment in the local pokémon centre, which acted as some relief to her. Aside from the bed to her left where her still unconscious partner resided, the room was relatively empty. The window to her right let precious little sunlight through it, making the room feel even more depressing than it was. Looking at him was a further ordeal, knowing she had caused his injuries even if it were not she who was in full control at the time. She vaguely remembered their final moments before their hearts stopped, and prayed he'd wake up in that mind frame rather than hating her like she fully deserved. The doctors had, understandably, hooked him up to more machines than they had with her, and it sickened her knowing it was only those that kept his condition from deteriorating.

What seemed like years later, but in reality were only a few hours, he reluctantly broke out of his coma. Nurses sprang to his bedside almost immediately, wrapping the curtain around the rail to conceal him from anybody else's view. Jessie sighed; why they assumed what they said behind the curtain was automatically soundproof just because you couldn't see the other patient was beyond her. She tuned out their conversation where they notified him of the details of his condition, not really wanting to know the full extent of her actions unless James felt particularly obliged to tell her himself. The old familiar dull ache returned in her heart, the one where she was afraid he'd reject her, as she knew that if he did now, it was unlikely they'd stay together for very long with regards everything that had happened. As the medical staff drew the curtain back once more and exited with a collection of test tubes filled with blood, Jessie took a deep breath and, wincing heavily, sat up so she could see him properly. Although that particular movement would usually cost minimal effort, it took all her spare energy and left her gasping for relief from the pain. She checked the leeway on the various equipment injected into her arm, and decided to strain herself that much further to sit on the chair equidistant from their beds.

He looked at her without any expression at all visible, which she grudgingly admitted was natural from both only just returning to consciousness and the amount of drugs no doubt running through his veins. Feeling over-exposed in just the hospital gown, she asked him how he felt to start a conversation going. The silence dripping in that moment made her feel beyond discomfited until he spoke four simple words that ingrained panic and anguish to her heart.

"Do I know you?"

Not one of her worries about his attitude when he awoke matched up with this harsh dilemma. She stuttered a few incoherent words out as she tried to think of something to say so he'd remember her, until she noticed he was flashing a grin at her. Relief took over her emotions until an angry outburst quickly replaced it. Were it not for their mutual lack of body strength she would have readily smacked him for doing that.

"Don't ever do that to me again you jerk!"

"Come on it was better than the last time I tried amnesia, this time I didn't accidentally make it so I died when I was eight after all!"

Grudgingly, she mentally admitted he had a point there, but she remained partially angry as the shock still hadn't worn off. As she looked at him, she found it incredibly difficult not to focus on all the bandages and wounds covering the skin that was visible to her. At his request, she passed him the chart board affixed to the end of his bed, and with difficulty, he adjusted himself into a somewhat sitting position. He glowered as he read the name of the consulting doctor at the top, and his mood didn't improve in the slightest when he saw all the notes attached along it. He thrust it back into her hands with more force than was necessary and she replaced it, afraid to ask what he'd seen. She didn't even know he could understand the medical jargon on it; she personally wouldn't stand a chance.

She looked at his dark gaze, not focused on her face, but on her stomach, and didn't understand why he spat out that she'd damn well better be pregnant. She didn't know how to react to this; his attitude was far from one bearing any trace of a paternal instinct. A glance behind his head to read his patients notes made her heart sink; part of the reason for his mood was because his consulting doctor was none other than Dr Proctor, and she remembered how sour the atmosphere had been when they'd mutually flirted in front of him that time. Minutes passed with that uncomfortable silence growing once more, until he stretched forward and with a degree of difficulty clasped her hand gently, his expression much softer now. He broke the quietness with a simple sentence, but one she didn't know if she wanted to hear.

"Where do we go from here?"

The awkward atmosphere returned. And it would not disappear.

Months after the incident in the forest, Ash was striding haughtily, chuckling to himself at winning yet another badge; however, nothing would ever come close to knowing he had the shiniest badges. Pikachu despised squeaking happily more than anything else; Ash won that badge six days ago now and its voice was in danger of vanishing permanently. Brock was a lot poorer than usual, refusing to accept any coins when he paid for anything, still unable to cleanse his retinas of that scene with Pay Day that remained solidly burnt into them. Misty wanted Team Rocket back now more than anything for a number of reasons. Without their constant disruptions, more time than ever was spent walking to Gyms and now her thighs resembled tree trunks and as a result any curves she could gain would blend into the mass that was her blocky limbs. Say nothing about her fantasies regarding James still existed and now he was dead it was a bit disturbing to say the least. She was so wrapped up in smouldering thoughts of what to do with a dead man she didn't notice Togepi ate less these days, and it stuffed tools and potential parts for weapons in the gap between its body and the shell instead. It was deeply afraid it was going to smuggle one thing too many and the egg would splinter away altogether; it was much easier having Misty carry it and its hoard than waddling with it itself after all. Foolish flat-chested minion.

The power-marching ceased abruptly, owing to a large cloud of smoke suddenly engulfing the width of the road. Over their coughing, the tinny but unmistakable sound of Team Rocket's theme was audible, stabbing shock into all their hearts. Ash gasped for air hysterically as he heard Jessie's voice starting their motto; he'd suffered enough lectures and silent treatments from his friends after blasting off her corpse and had thought paid his penance sufficiently. It hadn't exactly been enjoyable having to praise himself aloud so he could start his laughing and poses; at one stage he almost discovered shame but thankfully had lacked the brainpower to stay dwelling on the concept, and thus remained ignorant in its ways. As Jessie declared her name and became completely visible against the smoke, he felt the contents of his bladder slide gracelessly down his legs, frantically wondering what he should do to escape his undead enemies. As James made his ocular debut, Ash decided enough was enough and it was time to fight back. Twisting the cap back on his head with stony determination etched on the soiled trainer's face, Ash took up his famous "I'll get you, Team Rocket!" stance and held his position, even if it meant he felt the moisture seep into his skin more.

"PIKACHU, THUNDER…"

He trailed off his attack as it was probably the first time in his life that he actually remembered something: electrical attacks did little more than tickle ghost-type pokémon. He forgot naturally, that his opponents were neither pokémon nor in all likelihoods dead. He could have sworn it had not been that long since he'd emptied his bladder, whereas his jeans said otherwise as the sopping mess amplified. As James reached into his pocket, Ash turned and ran as fast as he could, knowing within his heart that for once this battle was well out of his capability range. Sadly, with watching over his shoulder as much as he did on his speedy yet moist getaway, he did not see the tree he ran into at full force, knocking him instantly unconscious as a result. Utterly bewildered, James opened his fist to show a small open box containing a silver trinket with the words "Badge awarded to the sole trainer capable of bringing people back to life" inscribed on the inside of the lid. Blinking furiously to ensure his eyes did not deceive him, he noticed the other two travellers were slumped forward on the grass, clearly having fainted at their appearance. Facing each other with wicked grins, they ignored how much the official customised badge had cost and chose to focus on the fact they were ghosts to them and how this could ultimately play to their favour. It would certainly make Jessie's last few workable months more interesting and that much safer. It also distracted James from his painful constant reminder that Jessie had lucratively castrated him when she'd pulled that stunt with the tree. Laughing evilly, he pocketed the box again, and the left the clearing without a sign they'd been there. Pikachu wailed after them, crawling to tug onto Meowth's tail, begging to let it go with them. As Team Rocket is infamous for being a corporation riddled with ruthless pokémon thieves, they carried on walking and did not take their willing companion. Having laboured over the same mission for what seemed an eternity, they felt it would all have been in vain should they get the rat in this manner. These next few months would unquestionably be fun though…

As Jessie's pregnancy wore on, James and Meowth placed her irrational bad moods to hormonal imbalances and stress at knowing this was the only time she'd ever be capable of carrying his child. However, they were unaware that the foetus had fused with the straggling dying cells Mihrasta had deposited when Jessie was its host. Now as she reached the final trimester, she was unaware that the beast consumed her child's soul hungrily to ensure its revenge would be accomplished to the maximum extent. They would pay dearly for their actions; with complete memories of the incident, it also gained immunity to metal throughout the process as a result of surviving the assault. Nothing could stop it now.

Nothing.

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Not the ending you were hoping for? Wanted more bloodshed? Oh sorry, I'm not telepathic and gosh darn it all you didn't review to say what you did want to read. Thank you to the lovely SenshiofRuin and UraniumMaiden (particularly for getting rid of the "0" on reviews for chapter 13) who did actually comment, I love you guys lots! As to you read and runners, please refer to my earlier comment about showing up on my radar. Anyone who wants to know where the line she was manipulated with "No-one will love you the way I do" it's from the track "Love You Like I Do" sung by His Infernal Majesty, or HIM. Think that's everything now!