DISCLAIMER: The only Pokemon materials I own are a small stuffed Pikachu and a book of Pokemon so old it only contains the first 150 (or whatever number the Mews are). It used to come in handy from time to time but now it has been replaced by Bulbapedia which is a very useful site. I was looking everywhere to try and work out what on earth you would even call Brock and Sabrina and they had it right there - I didn't even realize that there was justification for it and thought it was just something that some people like me thought were cute. If not for Bulbapedia I was going to call them 'DiverseShipping' (because they are the only gym leaders to have non-type Pokemon on their team - thus the diverse thing, it was the only thing I thought they had in common) but apparently they're MangaShipping cos of something in the Manga. Anyway, this disclaimer here has actually gotten quite long, and most of it is actually me going on about nothing - as per bloody usual.

Before I finish though, on the topic of Brock and Sabrina, I'm thinking about starting a C2 for them, however the problem seems to be that there are almost no fics to add to it. I've gone through about 1,500 so far (I didn't read all of them but I think you catch my drift) and I've only found one. Although that may be my own fault for having such a strict criteria that even of my own fics don't qualify (well except maybe 'More Than You Think You Are'). Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that if anybody knows any good MangaShipping fics please let me know, or if you would like to find some good ones let me know and I'll send you my criteria so you know what you're looking for.

Now on with the story.

On Angels Wings – The Kiss of Life

"If anything happens to him in there, I'm blaming you," Misty glowered at Brock as he came to reminding him of her previous threat. "I can't believe you just left him in there alone."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Brock replied hopefully, hardly sounding convinced by his own conviction. "Ash has a way with these sorts of things."

Misty sighed to herself.

Boy did she suck at her job. Here Ash was, walking right into his most dangerous situation yet, and where was she? Outside and doing everything in her power to stay that way.

'Help,' she thought ominously, beseeching anyone who would listen – anyone that could listen – for that little bit of aid.

And then she felt it, like a cold wind trickling down her spine and clinging to her bones. It seemed to brush through her in the worst possible way - like an inescapable, inexplicable emptiness.

"Oh god," she whispered hoarsely. "Oh god, oh god , oh god," she cried out more urgently as tears coursed down her pale cheeks.

"What is it Misty?" Brock asked, looking at her with concern. Misty had gone almost completely white, and she seemed to be rooted to the spot as she stared almost aimlessly at the tower. "What's wrong?"

Misty didn't reply; she couldn't reply. She couldn't say it aloud and confirm it, but she knew it was true all the same.

This wasn't the first time of course. After all, every angel's mission has to come to an end, and this was the way things usually ended. But it was different with Ash. He wasn't just some assignment. He was her friend, and now everything inside of her was telling her he was gone.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she repeated to herself, her eyes searching the tower wildly. "It's all my fault. I never should have let him . . ."

"Misty, just calm down," Brock told her seriously grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Just tell me what's wrong."

"We've got to go," she told him almost breathlessly as she tried to hold back her tears. "We have to go. We've got to get out of here."

"But Misty, what about Ash?" he asked, looking more and more concerned.

"That's what I mean," she tried to explain. "Something's happened, something bad. You have to go get help."

"We can't just leave him."

"You have to go," she told him, struggling out of Brock's grasp. "I have to get in there Brock. I have to save him."

"Are you sure?" Brock asked, loosening his grip on her. Misty nodded mutely in reply – it was all she could do. "You'll need this," Brock said, handing her some supplies out of his bag. "I won't be long."

And then Misty was alone again with the tower of terror.

Ash and Pikachu floated aimlessly around with the ghost Pokemon with almost no idea what to do. It was fun playing with the ghosts at first, especially messing with the Rockets, but he was starting to miss his body, and his friends.

The Haunter and Gastly seemed to sense this and pulled him outside to where he thought Brock and Misty were waiting.

Misty stood alone, looking worriedly at the tower. Only she looked completely different. It was almost as if she was glowing.

He floated down in front of her, and she looked as though she could actually see him. When he was messing with Jesse and James, it was like they were looking through him, but Misty was looking right at him.

"Oh Ash," she whispered softly. She reached out her hand and gently stroked his cheek. Her touch was softer than he could ever have imagined.

"Misty . . . your . . ." he started, but she just smiled an enigmatic smile and the words faded on his lips.

"An angel," she finished for him, relieved to be able to say it aloud and admit the truth to him. She felt like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. "I know. I'm yours actually."

"M-my angel," he stuttered, not quite understanding what she was saying.

"Guardian angel," she replied with that same enigmatic smile. "I am your guardian angel Ash, and this is not your destiny."

"How do you know?"

"Because if this was your destiny Ash, then I wouldn't be here," she said simply. She looked at the ghost Pokemon around him and banished them with a look. They had done their damage, and now she would do hers.

"You are meant for great things Ash Ketchum," she told him with an almost sarcastic smile. "And I intend to see you through all of them."

"Do you promise?" he asked softly, reaching out for her hand. He missed her touch. If this was the end, then that was the way he wanted to go – holding on to Misty.

She nodded slowly.

"You have to go back Ash," she told him, her voice calming but sounding further away. "I know it's cold and dark and alone. I know that it hurts there and you're scared of what might come, but you have to go back to your body until I can bring you back properly. It won't work if you're here and in there."

"I'll see you soon?" he asked and she nodded again as he floated back to his body to wait for her.

Misty shuddered as she took a deep breath she had been holding. She choked back her tears and held her hands over her mouth as she fell to the ground.

She had been holding it in through the whole conversation with Ash as he confirmed her greatest fears. He was dead. He was really dead, and she had no idea what to do.

For Ash's sake she pretended she knew what she was doing. She smiled enigmatically. She spoke calmly and with absolute certainty. She didn't let a single tear go.

Now sobs raked through her body and she cried openly. She cried because she was losing her best friend and there was nothing she could do except cry about it.

She raced into the building, forgetting all her previous fears. She followed the trail that his spirit left behind, leading her directly to the body of her best friend and his Pokemon companion.

She found them under a pile of rubble, which she quickly moved. Ash and Pikachu both lay at odd angles. His skin was cold to the touch and she desperately searched for a pulse. If she tried hard enough she could feel something very faint, but she wasn't sure if it was real or just her own wishful thinking.

She let out a loud sob as she stared at his figure. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. Ash was supposed to go on forever – to do great things and live a long life. This wasn't his destiny.

"Help me!" she cried out aloud, staring at the heavens above. "You have to help me," she added passionately, choking on her own emotions. "I can't do this on my own. You have to save him.

"You can't make me go on without him," she whispered.

Misty waited for their response, but nothing was happening. She wondered if they could hear her; if they were even listening to her cries. She wondered if this was what everything had been leading to all along.

She held her hands out over his chest hoping that the pulse she was sure she felt hadn't just been in her head. Her hands glowed as she began chest compressions, resorting to a mixture of celestial magic and western medicine.

"One – two – three," she muttered to herself as she counted out the compressions. She pinched his nose, and covered Ash's mouth with her own, forcing air from her lungs into his. She checked for a pulse once again, trying desperately to convince her self that the faint beat she felt was real.

She started compressions again.

"Don't leave me Ash," she whispered as more tears gathered in her eyes and fell. She could heal whatever damage was done to him, but she couldn't bring him back from the dead if that's what had happened. Nothing she could say or do could bring him back from there.

If only tears could bring you back.

She sealed her lips over his once again. She watched his chest rise and fall as the air was forced into his lungs. She checked his pulse once again.

"It's stronger," Misty whispered to her self, trying to convince her self that she could in fact feel Ash's pulse strengthening. "It has to be getting stronger."

She continued with CPR, convincing her self each time that he was getting stronger and coming back to her. He had to come back to her.

"Kasumi stop," the PTB commanded, a warning tone in their voice.

"No, I will not stop," she replied, her hands pressed against his chest and her cheek resting on his lips trying to feel his breath. "I can't stop. It's not too late."

"Kasumi, it's almost dawn,"they said, their meaning lost on her.

"No . . ." she said quietly, a tear rolling down her cheek and onto Ash's. "Not him. You can't take him," she told him more determinedly, standing up as though to face them off. "Take me instead. Take anything. Just don't take him."

The PTB seemed to consider her proposition.

"Kasumi, if we do this, you have to give up something in exchange," the PTB said finally.

"Anything," Misty replied. "Whatever you want. I'll give up anything just as long as you can save him," she wept.

"You must relinquish your powers,"the PTB explained slowly. "Not all of them, but most of your powers will have to be relinquished in order to save him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" they asked, waiting upon her reply.

She nodded. "If this is what it takes."

Ash and Pikachu began to glow brightly, and Misty had to shield her eyes, as a warm light seemed to wrap itself around the room. She felt herself being drained and he knees buckled under her, forcing her back to the floor beside Ash.

Slowly the light faded, and she watched him carefully as he took a deep breath on his own fruition.

"You can no longer heal yourself Kasumi," they said lowly. "And you'll no longer be able to hear his thoughts, no matter what form you take. Almost all your powers are limited to your immortal form. You're almost human."

'Almost,' she thought to herself unsure as to whether that thought was a comfort or a curse.

"Thank you" she began, but stopped when she heard a low groan come from beside her. She moved quickly to Ash's side, taking his hand in hers as he slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes.

"Ash," she whispered softly, sighing with relief. "You're ok."

He nodded as he slowly tried to get his bearings. "I had the strangest dream," he croaked, trying to sit up but Misty wouldn't let him and forced him back down. Pikachu crawled over to his side and rested its head on his stomach. He winced a little but smiled down at his Pokemon.

"You were there," he said to Misty. "And I guess I was too. And . . . I don't remember what happened, but it was strange."

Misty smiled at him as she softly stroked his cheek. "I don't think it matters," she whispered softly, her eyes welling with tears that she wouldn't let fall. "I'm just glad you're ok."

"Misty I . . ." he started, but was cut off as a loud bang was heard from the front room.

"Misty! Misty are you here?" they heard Brock call from the front room. It seemed that dawn had finally arrived, as had Brock with reinforcements.

"We're in here!" Misty called back, standing up and walking towards the door so that Brock could see her. "He just woke up," she explained to Brock and the paramedic as they walked through the door.

"I-I think he's ok now," she added quietly.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Brock said comfortingly.

"He wasn't breathing when I found him," she said in a low voice, her eyes filling with tears once again as she recalled the circumstances of Ash's death and resuscitation. "And I couldn't find a pulse."

"It's all right now Misty," Brock told her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"I should have been there," she said, her voice heavy with guilt.

"Then where would we be?" Brock asked. "The two of you sprawled under some furnishings. Who would save him then?"

Misty just shook her head, watching Ash as the paramedic checked him carefully.

'Who will save him now?' she thought to herself as she recounted what she had to give up in order to save him this time. Next time there would be nothing left for them to take. All she could really do was watch his steps and make sure they didn't lead towards anything too perturbed.

But who would save him now?

~ to be continued ~

I love self-sacrafice. I hadn't really meant to take this in this direction, but I do like where it ended up. Adds a whole new dimension to things don't you think? Although it's probably going to make everything more difficult in future chapters and I'm going to need constant reminding that I did this.

Now remember: Je suis désolé que votre mère soit une singe montée par puce mais ce n'est pas mon problème. A meaningless sentence I know, but I felt like throwing it in there for comedic relief after such a dramatic relief. I really should have thrown a joke in the middle somewhere - it's what Shakespeare would have done.

And so in the words of the immortal bard . . . REVIEW!