WARNING: Death and other sad surprises. I hope this doesn't make anyone too sad (but in a way, I hope it does make you feel something).
Why was the update so slow? Well, if you must know, I hand-wrote too much (I killed six notebooks this year with fanfiction and my other failure of a story!) and I got carpel tunnel, if that's how you spell it. I have exams, which I study for by staring at a page while my mind wanders and hope that it all magically downloads into my brain, and my teachers like to give out oodles of homework so we can boost our grades, which, of course, has the reverse effect and lowers mine.
By the way! Guess who figured out why her stories came out looking funny? Me! It was because I got the new Word, and it's label is, what else? Docx. Now, because it's docx, Fanfiction gets angry and screws around with my stuff because it doesn't understand how to convert.

DAML

Happy day, sunny day, nothing prettier. So, of course, it was this day that they chose to go to the cemetery. Why was it that all people insisted on going to a sad place on a good day? It was never when the rain was pouring, or when it snowed, not in real life. In real life, it was only in the sun and easy breeze that people decided to venture to the cemetery and lay their flowers. Perhaps, to counteract the feelings. Perhaps it was the sunny day so that only while in the cemetery did you feel the heavy ache on your shoulders, the stomach sinking feeling of knowing you are treading over corpses and possibly your future gravesite. Who hasn't seen a grave and not, for just a moment, wondered what it would be like for their own name to be engraved in stone, along with dates and some redeeming quality.

There was a building by the cemetery, bright red brick shimmering with heat. It cast a shadow, but not on the grave she stared at. Oh, no, not at the grave she gawked down at. That would have been to morbid. It would have been dark, might have been the final straw. That was all one needed at a cemetery, a final straw: a drop of rain, a shadow, even tripping over one's own feet could set one off in tears. It was usually better that way, to let it out.

No way to release today. No way to set it free without looking ridiculous, or drawing looks from a couple not too far away. She ran her hands through her brown hair, they trembled. Arceus, how she needed a release. Just one more bad, horribly wonderful incident that would set her off, send her sobbing into the dirt. It would be better that way. She needed to let go, constantly needed to let go. Just a look in the mirror would send her into The Depression. That was her name for it, the doctors' name for it too, come to think of it. The Depression: hopelessness, anger, emptiness, sadness. Oh, just a few of her favorite things. She would give anything to avoid The Depression. She would do anything to get rid of it: surgery, pills, painful shots and drugs, name a way and she would gladly take it. Nothing could be worse than this.

Her release, her release! When would it come? Why would it not come? Why did her own emotions, her own body, betray her?

She cuddled the eevee in her arms close, knotting her fingers in the warm, brown fur. It smelled of primal instincts, of animal, of that soothing, free smell that could somehow make one want to run away from the wild that they came from or make them dive into an open lake, drink the water and not even bother to purify it first. That scent took her away for a moment, ripped The Depression down from where it clutched to her, where it clung and hung like a cape. But it came back, because it always came back. Nothing could make it go away. Not a thing. Not the birds, not the eevee, and, though she wished for it, not the release. They only delayed the inevitable.

She dropped the creature. Not dropped, per se, but let it jump from her arms to the grass, where it sniffed the grave and whined, like it knew what lay beneath the earth. It probably knew what was lying there, actually. She would not be surprised in the least if her little friend knew. If nothing else, she could certainly pick up the sadness in the air. Every creature, fish or fowl or beast knew the scent of death. How could eevee not know, when hundreds of soul were trapped beneath the earth?

Dead, dead, dead. How she hated that word. It caused much too much trouble for one syllable, four letters. Perhaps, if one felt like changing things up, you could replace it with death and add an extra letter. The word still had the same amount of power, but the extra letter seemed to name it, give it the form of a skeleton with a scythe and a bony finger that pointed at you when it was time to leave the world behind. Yes, that was better, even comical. Death could not be comical, at least, that was what The Depression scolded as it settled around her once again and whispered "dead" in her ear once more.

"Taunting me, the bastard," She spat. She idly wondered if the couple down the road would look at her strangely if she clawed at her ears. It would be a strange enough thing to do, but probably no stranger than hearing The Depression vocalize what her emotions tried to conceal. They were not aware of the voice though, no, she was sure they were not, that would be impossible. It was best, she decided, to mutter to herself, act as if talking to the grave.

"Bastard, hiding in my head. Show yourself, coward. Get the hell out of there and talk to me face to face. Let me kill you. Let me stab you. Maybe you'd kill me. I don't really care anymore. I'm not really alive anyway. I'm a zombie. That's what I am. I'm a living dead. That's why people are looking at me funny on the subway. The subway! Like I'm the weirdest thing they've ever seen on the subway. Only way to explain it is that I'm a zombie. I've got little flesh pieces falling to the floor all the time, that's what it is. People are staring at the maggots running around in me and the holes in my cheeks and how I've got a slack jaw so I can moan better."

She leaned forward, glaring at the grave. "Why'd you go and die, huh? Why'd you do it? To spite me? That's it, I'm sure. You're spiting me. Died just to give me hell. Ooh! That seems just like something you would do. Barely even know you, and I'm sure you'd do it. You and The Depression, both had it all schemed out, didn't you? It was all a plot to make my life a living hell. Well, fuck you, both of you. The Depression and you can rot in your grave together. You'll be happier then!"

She leaned too far forward, face still in a furious line, and fell, flat on her face. The grass itched at her skin, slinking under her pretty dress and brushing her cheeks, beginning to redden with restrained tears. Then it broke, all her resolve, all her anger, all her fear, it poured into the tough, dying grass in hot tears. She choked on sobs, and soon, choked on pollen and grass and the overwhelming story the tombstone held.

(PAGE BREAK)

"A cabin," May giggled. She turned and twirled in the little hut, the blackened by night and brightened by a fire in the far corner. "A wooden cabin. Couldn't be anymore romantic, could it? You've got me swooning, Drew! I adore it! I don't know how you managed to get such a cozy place. I thought all these places were bought up and made into condominiums and surrounded by tourists and their strange Hawaiian tees. Can you tell me why all men think it's okay to wear something that ugly?"

He came up behind her and pulled her tight against him, back to front, and kissed her neck swiftly. "Because we'll never see anyone we meet there again, isn't that a good enough reason? Besides, it's not like I own one."

"What about that tacky old shirt you wore a few nights ago?"

He turned her to him. "Tacky? What shirt do I own that's tacky? Hey, I take more time choosing my outfits than you ever will."

"Oh? Prove it, Drew-bee. How long do you take to get ready in the morning compared to me?"

"Well, that's not fair," He laughed.

"Why not?"

"What about all the girl stuff you do that I don't?" Another brief kiss on the cheek, then he led her by the hand into the kitchen.

"Girl stuff? What girl stuff? Taking a shower? Flat ironing my hair? It's not my fault I can't roll out of bed perfect, unlike you." She pouted, a giggle hiding in the back of her throat. "Every morning, you roll out of bed with your hair straight and perfect. All you do is run your fingers through it, three times, with both hands. Then you take a two second shower, which means you're probably still dirty, you just use too much soap to cover the scent. You brush your teeth, you clean up, then you pull on jeans and a shirt. Everything matches with jeans."

"Not everything," He defended. "I take the time-"

"You better get used to not winning any arguments, Drew-bee. Didn't your Daddy ever tell you that your wife always wins?" She sighed romantically. "I'm your wife. It's romantic, isn't it? Don't you just love it? We're newlyweds. I'm on my honeymoon, in a romantic, secluded cabin. You're about to make me something which I hope is half coffee, half chocolate, and half liquor. It's straight out of a romance novel." She jumped up on the counter, letting her legs dangle from the edge and stuck her chin on her hand. "I never thought it'd be someone like you."

"What a compliment," He rolled his eyes.

"Oh! Don't be so sensitive! You know what I mean."

"I don't."

"You have to. You know my type."

"I assumed my type was your type."

"Maybe you don't know me too well than, hmm?" She challenged. "I have a very distinct type. It's something you should know by now. Haven't you been reading those romance novels I give you each Christmas?" He gave her his best 'you have got to be kidding look' before going back to his cooking. "You're a jerk. I bought those because I thought they were romantic. I thought you were romantic! Why aren't you going to read them?"

"Because they're stupid."

"You're stupid," She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes.

He grinned, "so's your face."

"That was a stupid comeback."

"And yours wasn't?"

She sighed. "You have me there."

The young girl, not a day into her mid-twenties, took in the scent of the pot he cooked in. "Mmm, tasty. What are you cooking up for me? It smells fantastic." She smiled at her, angelic innocence lingered on her features. Angles had sharpened since he first met her, cheek bones were more defined, hips had widened and all the curves had fallen into perfect places. She wore jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, much like him, dark colored and still wet from the snow outside.

Her green haired lover stared for a moment, then captured her lips in a long kiss. Neither particularly cared for the bubbling liquid, not for a moment. Hands trailed torsos and faces, pressing tightly together as if scared to let go, but eventually pulled away. "It's going to be okay. Everything will be. It…I won't let anything happen to you. No one has to know about this, about us, about anything. We can get this annulled and go back to our old life. No one will think anything of it. It's just the press, May! They'll have a field day! You should find someone unimportant, someone bland, marry them. You can't stand the fame. You won't be able to stand the headlines."

"I never read the headlines," She murmured on his lips. "What's it matter if I don't read the paper? We can be together, in our little wooden cabin. The honeymoon can last forever. I don't care what anyone says. It can and it will. We can make it last forever. We can kill deer or something," She laughed and held him closer. "Please? I don't want this to end before it ever starts. You don't need to give up…everything for me."

"This is about you," He frowned.

She frowned back, a playful twinkle in her eyes. "No, it's about you."

"This is serious."

"I'm being serious."

"No you're not. You're joking around."

"But you're serious, so if I didn't joke around we'd both go insane with seriousness and kill ourselves like Romeo and Juliet."

He scowled. "I don't like death jokes."

"So serious," She sighed, shaking her head. She quietly flicked out the fire and hopped off the counter. "Come to the sofa. We are going to lay you out, loosen you up, and see if we can get this place a little warmer by stoking the fire. You know what I mean by that, don't you?" She raised a seductive eyebrow.

"I have a vague idea." He kissed her neck, traveling down until the baggy sweatshirt blocked him. "You know, you're always in the mood for sex when you've got all this crap on. Why can't you ever want to do me when you've got a bathing suit on? That always happens in those romantic books of yours. Julio and Maria, having hot sex when the master isn't home. Julio is the pool boy, and the mistress is always in a string bikini."

"But if you didn't work for it you wouldn't be so excited when you finally got it," She giggled. "You should have seen your face when you finally figured out how to get my bra off. It looked like you had just cracked the code to the most guarded bank in the entire world. All proud of yourself, it was worth wearing frontsies."

"Never wear those again," He murmured, attempting to figure out a way to wrestle the sweater over her head without removing his lips from her skin. "Never, ever wear those stupid things. I couldn't get it off of you."

"Ever stop and think that that's why I wore them?" She smiled. She twisted and kissed his mouth, her tongue taunting his before she pulled away, breathless. "Drew-bee, I'm just as eager as you, but I'm too tired to stand up through all this. You're going to have to make it the five feet over to the couch. I know it's going to be hard, especially since you're a little hard yourself, but I'd appreciate it if I didn't fall to the floor and crack my head open while we're doing you-know-what."

"Will you ever be able to say sex?" He teased.

"Nope. Hurry up, let's get to that sofa. I want to finish this up so I can get back to my late night drink which you always make so well. Too bad we don't have any caramel, I'd love a little swirl of that on it. Whipped cream, too."

"I want to have sex with you and three seconds ago I thought you were all set to do me. Can we think of something other than food?" He asked hopefully.

"Oh, well," She laughed lightly. "I guess. I can't help that I'm hungry, Drew. It's all your fault I am. So, start blaming your stupid self for this whole mess."

"I already do," He whispered.

"Aw, Drew-bee," She crooned. "Don't blame yourself. I was only joking. Won't you please come and talk to me?"

"No." One word, abrupt, tight. "I need you. Talk later, May?"

She answered with kisses.

(PAGE BREAK)

Shivering, they did up their clothes. "Drew-bee, I don't think this was the best idea in the world. I'm freezing. Any second now something is going to freeze off and break on the floor. I can't believe you talked me into doing this. Ridiculous. Shame, shame, Drewbalicious." She pulled her shirt down and toyed with her breasts for a moment, trying to get everything back into place. Her hair was last to be fixed, her fingers swept through the now laired hair and grown out bangs.

"I like your hair like that. Much better than the perm."

"Don't bring that up," She whined, shaking her head furiously and ruining the hair she had tried so hard to make perfect. She gave a frustrated growl and began to straighten it again. "You didn't even get to see it. I ran straight home and showered it out. There was no way I would ever keep that fashion don't. I don't know what I was thinking. Barely anyone can pull off a perm, I can't. Besides, laired is in, isn't it? You're always up to date on all the fashion styles and everywhere I go I see girls with laired hair and they all told me that I'd look fantastic with lairs so I got them and voila! I look fantastic."

"You do look fantastic," He murmured, fingering her hair back into place tenderly. "I don't care too much about how you look, May. Everything's been based off looks, our entire life! Contests, impressions, magazines, I'm absolutely sick of all this. It's going to be different now. It's going to be better, and I won't ever let a single thing come between us."

She smiled dreamily. "It's not that cold out. Take off your pants."

He smirked. "This is a great honeymoon."

(PAGE BREAK)

It was that night, after all the wildness, after all the cray sex that they lay in the small cabin on the pullout couch, cuddling in one another's arms. For a while, they slept, nothing but their breathing and crackling fire in the room. Then May shifted, and Drew awoke. They were not sure exactly what to say, holding each other for a moment and each hoping they would be able to fall back asleep. They were quite sure that this was not an option, so May finally spoke.

"What we did, eloping like that, I feel bad about it."

"Do you?" He murmured, rubbing her back soothingly.

"My parents, my brother, I'm the only girl, Drew-bee. We just…stole away their little girl's wedding. I know they'll understand, when we get back and tell them everything. When we tell them about how the press would have a field day with you marrying some random coordinator, and…well, Drew, I think they would need a minute to take it in, but I'm sure after a couple of minutes they'd be fine with…" She seemed unable to get out the words.

He moved his hand to her navel, "The unplanned pregnancy."

She laughed once, the sound bitter. "Make it sound like a medical term. Unplanned pregnancy, that's what health teachers tell teenagers. An unplanned pregnancy, not two idiot kids who forgot to use birth control, no, were too stupid to use birth control. Now…the girl's knocked up and the boy has to marry her. Both their lives are over for a night of fun. We probably wouldn't have stuck together if it wasn't for this. You know, I might as well just kill it."

"No," Drew growled. "I helped make that. You can throw it out if I made it. I want it, dammit. I've got the money to care for it, May. It's not like we're poor. If the situation was different, by all means, abort the baby, but not if I've got the money to get it. Besides, I think you're healthy enough to have the baby. You got any back problems you forgot to tell me about? Genital warts? Babies suffocate from those, you know." He sighed. "If you really want to; I won't stop you. It's your body. What do you want to do?"

"I want to keep it," She sniffled. "Will it have a crappy life, with us as parents?"

"No. I'm sure it won't. Maybe it'll be bombarded by the press, but nothing it won't be able to stand." He kissed her head lightly. "As long as you don't think I'm making you-"

"Don't worry. I gave up listening to you ages ago, Drew-bee. You're less help than Harley," She giggled and pushed her nose into his chest. "Careful with those STD jokes, Drew. Dawn got one, from a pokémon, believe it or not."

"How did she-"

"It's a long story, and it's not dirty, it's tragic," May scolded. "Imagine the shock when Kenny went in to get tested. Ooh, that was a horrible night for the both of them. Bad, bad night. I could practically write an after-school teen special on that. You're lucky I'm clean. I'm hoping you're clean. I did have you get tested for everything they know how to test. You were with that stupid slut girl. I hate her. Stupid slut."

"You mean Maria, the girl you giggled and played with all the time when we were really getting into contests and she was your biggest rival aside from me?"

"Yes," She nodded. "Stupid slut girl." There was another long pause. "I'm going with Japanese names, because we've both got Japanese in us and I think it'd be wonderful to name them something like that. Also, all the kids in school will love the foreign names so that's a plus. If it's a boy, we'll name him Satoshi. If it's a girl, we'll name her Kasumi. Do you happen to know where I got those names from, oh wonderful husband whom I love so much and ought to love these names because I'm blessing him with a child?"

"Isn't that Ash and Misty?"

"Yes."

"Why would you name our precious children after those two morons?"

"Ash saved the world and Misty's practically my older sister. If it wasn't for her I never would have figured out how to survive my period with men around. I would have to had killed myself, Drew, I swear! You don't know how hard it is to have something like that and then have idiots around you all day joking and having fun when you're in so much pain. It's times like those that you just want to commit suicide or homicide or genocide because the world sucks."

"Lovely May." He chuckled.

Suddenly, May's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she went limp in his arms. Her mouth lolled open slightly, and her eyelids slid closed. "May? May, wake up. Honey, come on. Don't do this to me! You didn't choke or anything! Wake up, sweetheart. Wake up, honey. May-bee, wake up." He slapped her face lightly, tapped her shoulders, and hoped for some kind of response. When he got none, he listened for a heartbeat. He found that. Then, on the verge of tears, he flipped out his cell phone and pressed 911 with shaking fingers, gave them the address, and stayed on the line until the whirling ambulance got to the door.

(PAGE BREAK)

"They say she's in a coma, probably will be for the rest of her life. The chances of her waking are slim," Drew said quietly. The Maple's, Ash, Brock and Misty all gathered around the bed, watching May's comatose form breathe while the tubes filled her with life sustaining drinks, or, as Ash jokingly said to lighten the mood 'LSD'. "She had something go wrong in her brain. They're not exactly sure what. The doctors said that it's rare, but every once in a while, there's still mysteries they can't solve. They don't know what happened, only that it practically stopped all brain activities except for her heart, her breathing…They say there's a chance she'll wake up."

Brock spoke quietly, "What are the odds?"

Drew took in a shaky breath. "One in six thousand she'll live long enough for them to get the baby out."

Norman's head swiveled to face the boy. "The baby, it's still okay?"

"They don't know much, won't know much until it's born. It's got a heartbeat, it looks perfectly healthy. They have a feeling that nothing will go wrong, because May's body is fine. She's perfectly healthy. Her brain is just…" He shook his head. "Wanna know the odds she'll wake up?"

No one answered, staring at him silently. His body was shaking as her raised a hand to his face and covered his eyes.

"One in four million," He said, and cried.

He wept long and hard and continued when May's mother embraced him, letting the grown man cry until he couldn't anymore. Max joined in, running to his sister and clutching her hand, crying like he was ten again and kneeling on the floor. May's father, Brock, Ash and Misty seemed incapable of no other emotion but to stare, breathing ragged at May. Though, if watched closely, one could see Ash Ketchum fiddle in his pocket for his prayer beads, each one representing a different religion, and his lips moving. First, he spoke in English, than in Latin, than in languages no one could identify. And soon, once Drew stopped crying, all that was left was Ash's quiet chanting and the beeping of the heart rate monitor they had May hooked up too.

Somehow, it would have been easier if the green light stopped bouncing and just rolled across the screen as a long, flat line.

(PAGE BREAK)

Nine months, one week, and three days into May's pregnancy, she registered contractions and the comatose woman was put straight into C-section.

There was not much to say about it. The only thing that could be said was that it went well, and the baby was delivered fine. Drew abandoned a contest the second he got the call, not even bothering to give an excuse as he ran out the door and jumped into his car, driving like a maniac on his way there. May was put safely back into her bed, and Drew waited with her, eager for the baby to be placed in his arms.

The nurse came, tentative in every motion. "She's healthy, at least, mostly healthy. Her heart's fine, she barely has a chance for any chronic disease, no asthma, no anything, really. She's healthy but for…her legs, Mr. Williams. They're…mangled, I guess. They're twisted together, no way to fix it but to cut them off. But she's healthy, sir, please don't have an attack on me. She's perfectly healthy but for that!"

The man looked up and, against all odds, smiled. "Healthy? I was just praying she'd be alive. My wife is in a coma, ma'am, a wheelchair isn't that bad of a thing, when it comes to what happened to her mother. It is a her, right? The doctors said it would be, way back when all they had was the ultrasound to go on. I guess I'll follow what she wanted. I'll name her Kasumi. Kasumi Haruka Williams, sounds funny, doesn't it? I think it's best, it's a tribute to her mother." He held out his arms. "Can I see her?"

The nurse smiled, "Of course, sir."

The baby passed to his arms, and he held her to his face. Her eyes were half closed, looking up at him, as bright a green as his own, and her hair was brown, darker than May's, but very close to the same shade. She yawned, and curled up close, seemingly satisfied that this was her daddy. Drew smiled and sat next to his wife, putting the comatose woman's hand on the baby's smooth face. "This is our daughter, May, Kasumi Haruka Williams. She has green eyes and brown hair, and she's gorgeous, May. She's going to be as pretty as her mother. She's got a little thing with her legs, but she's alive and healthy. You kept her safe, and you did a great job."

He could have sworn he saw her smile for a moment, just a flash, before the long beep started.

(PAGE BREAK)

And just as he held her when she was small, Kasumi Haruka's father lifted her up into his arms and held her. Her twisted legs, the things she hated more than life itself, dangled limply below her. That was where the anger stemmed from, what created The Depression and the weird looks on the subway. But Daddy, Daddy was what made it better. Daddy held her close and whispered softly in her ear while eevee bounced nervously on the ground.

"Cool it, big girl, cool it. Ten years old soon, starting your journey. Cool it, big girl, cool it. Your mother's still watching over it, keeping us safe. You never would have made it if she didn't try so hard. Held on all that time, just for you. Let go as soon as you were safe. She loves you, big girl, loves you as much as I do even though you can't see it. You're going to be alright now, don't cry. Daddy will make it better," He crooned.

"I'm scared to get the surgery," She whispered. "What if I don't wake up? It's bad enough that, if it does work, I've got to come back home every time My leg gets too lopsided and the doctors have to get me a new one and fix me up. What if I go through it all, and nothing works? Then I'll just have to stay here. I'll never do anything special that way. You know, last time I went in, a doctor told me I could have been a runner, a runner with my body. Just irony, isn't it Daddy? It is, and it'll be ironic if I got everything I didn't want, the fancy house and clothes and pokémon from Mommy and the only thing I did want turned out to fail."

He chuckled and wiped her eyes, easily holding her up with one arm. "It won't, kiddo."

"Why not?" She snapped.

He laughed again. "Because, baby, you're one in six thousand. After those odds, everything else seems pretty damn easy to accomplish, doesn't it?"

(PAGE BREAK)

"Don't be afraid. I'm exceptional." – Lapras, Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Darkness
"Remember this: There are times, in a crisis, when we are able to call upon skills we never even knew we possessed." –Professor Oak, Bulbasaur…The Ambassador
"I get to chop open a fish, pull out it's eye with tweasers, cut that open, and got to wash off and keeps the round lens thing inside? My day couldn't possibly get any better!" –BSR, on the best Biology class day ever

Quote One was because I thought it was funny, and I hoped it would brighten your day. Quote Two was because it was the absolute best quote I ever heard, and I now worship Professor Oak, especially since he's Ash's father (Heh, eldershipping). Quote Three is because, well, it really was the best day ever and if any of you had any doubts that I was a Bio nerd, well, there it is. Your proof I love that stuff.