The Boat That Rocked (Rocketshipping Fanfic)
Part Seven
James realized that he hadn't brought in clean clothes for after his shower and was reluctant to wear the restrictive shirt again. He pulled on his trousers over his boxer shorts and threw the shirt over his shoulder. Stepping out of the bathroom he almost collided with Jessie.
She stumbled backwards, an apology on her lips, when she froze. "W-wha…?"
James tilted his head to the side, frowning.
"What happened to your hair?!"
Ah, yeah, that. He sighed, passing a hand over his head. "Just trying a new look. Needed to cut it anyway, right?"
She seemed stunned and he watched as the shock faded, her expression softening as she gazed up at him.
"What?" he asked, feeling uncomfortable.
She shook her head. "No, it's nothing. I was just looking at your scar."
The scar from his operation stood out now on his smooth head – a sign of the struggle he had gone through during his coma, a sign of his survival. To him it was the only sign that what they said was actually true. It made it real.
Jessie suddenly turned her head away and he raised an eyebrow. Then he glanced down at himself. His naked torso and his unbuttoned trousers glared back at him.
James shifted awkwardly, buttoning his trousers. "Sorry."
He looked at her face and he swore he saw a small smile on her lips – wait, no, was that smirk? Is she smirking?
"What should I do with this?" He lifted the shirt off his shoulder.
She took it from him. "I'll deal with it. You get dressed."
She walked away, returning to the kitchen. James stood there, staring after her. What was that?
He shrugged his shoulders and went into his room to look for a shirt. He decided upon a white shirt, leaving the top buttons undone to reveal his collarbone and throat, the shirt collar slack around his neck.
He sat down on the bed and fell back, lying down on the grey and red covers. James closed his eyes, his arms outstretched across the bed, his feet planted on the floor. I'm tired…
The whole moving from the hospital had exhausted him, and the awkwardness between him and Jessie hadn't helped. She had tried so hard since he'd woken from his coma. She told him stories and brought things that might jog his memory but nothing ever worked. With every blank expression it felt like something broke inside her and her smile would falter a little bit more.
Meowth didn't bother with 'stepping on eggshells' or trying to make him remember. He just threw himself – literally – at James and constantly remained at his side. Apparently he had done so the entire time for those two years, never leaving. James had grown quite attached to the cat Pokémon but he realized that he too was waiting for the old James. Meowth didn't pressure him but every now and again there was a look in his eyes, a hint of expectation.
They're all waiting for a person who doesn't exist anymore.
James lifted an arm, opening his eyes, his palm facing upwards, his fingers reaching for the ceiling. They weren't waiting for me. I'm not who they want.
His bedroom door creaked and he raised himself up, bringing his arm down to support him.
"I'm off to work now." Jessie was standing in the doorway, her jeans and blouse changed for a knee-length dress, her hair tied up, her makeup redone.
"At that bar?" She had told him all about her life here, about the people she worked with and the people she met.
She nodded. "I'll be back after midnight, so you don't have to wait up. I've left you some dinner on the kitchen table - just heat it up when you want, okay?"
"Yeah, thanks."
He stayed sat on his bed, listening to her shoes click on the tiled floor, her keys rattling, then the clunk of the lock releasing. "Look after him, Meowth." He heard her say. And then the door closed, her footsteps moving away. Silence.
It wasn't long before Meowth came rushing into his room and almost flew into his chest. The impact winded him, and he fell back onto his bed again. "Hey!" he cried, pushing the Pokémon away from him. "Watch it!"
But Meowth ignored him, curling up on his chest, a rumbling purr in his throat. Oh, great.
Soon Meowth's purrs turned into small snores and James was lured into his exhaustion, his eyes closing as he fell asleep.
James woke up with a start. Glancing at the bedside table, the clock told him he had been asleep for two hours. Meowth was still fast asleep on his chest and he carefully picked him up, settling him atop his pillow.
As Jessie had said, a covered plate of food awaited him in the kitchen. After eating, he made to return to his room when he saw Jessie's door open. He peeked into her room.
The room was tidy except for the haphazard pile of shoes in the corner. Stepping across the threshold, he noticed a shirt spread out on the bed. Looking closer he realized it was the too-small shirt that Jessie had taken from him earlier.
Moving away from the bed, he saw a dozen pictures on top of the chest of drawers. Pictures of him, of her, of Meowth. Pictures of their life before and her life now.
James left her room, closing the door behind him.
The apartment was still. Quiet. Lonely.
She's waited all this time, in this place. She's lived, waiting for the moment James would return to her. But I'm not him.
He returned to his room and quietly, so not to wake Meowth, found a rucksack underneath his bed and began to fill it with clothes.
I'm not him. I'm not the one she's waited for.
-#-
Jessie stepped into her apartment, shutting the door behind her. It was dark and she had to feel around for the light switch. I wonder if he's asleep.
She put her bag down on the sofa and went to his room door. She knocked lightly, once. "James?"
When no response came, she turned, meaning to walk to her room. I want to see him. I want to his sleeping face. I want to see him, here, where he's meant to be.
She turned back to the door and knocked again. Silence.
She opened the door slowly and looked in. His room was dark, the light shining through the open door causing shadows to scatter. She opened the door wider so the light would fall onto his bed.
Meowth was curled up on his pillow, a content expression on his face. The bed was empty. Maybe he's in the bathroom.
But the bed looked untouched, as if no one had slept in it.
Jessie looked behind her, into the kitchen. The food she had left on the table was gone, meaning he had eaten. Stepping further into the room, she noticed the slightly open wardrobe door. Looking inside she saw the majority of the shirts she had brought were gone, leaving empty coat hangers.
She rushed to the drawers and the clothes she put in there had also decreased in number.
Jessie searched the rest of the apartment but there was no sign of James. He's gone.
Panic surged, and she ran back into James' room, shaking the cat Pokémon awake. "Meowth! Wake up! Where's James?! Where is he?!"
Eyelids flickering, the Pokémon moaned, complaining about her loud voice.
"MEOWTH!"
His eyes snapped open, his body going tense. "Jessie?"
"James is gone. He's gone, he's gone…"
Jessie collapsed onto the bed, tears falling freely now. Meowth struggled out of her grasp, rushing out to search the empty apartment.
Why? Why would he leave?
"Jessie, we need to look for him." Meowth was standing beside the bed, looking up at her. "We need to go after him."
She lifted herself up, wiping her eyes dry. I need to be strong, remember? She returned to the living room, picking up her keys and finding a flashlight.
The two left the apartment, separating outside to search the night. Why would you leave, James? Where would you go?
-#-
James had slowly walked the shadows of the streets, his head bowed, lost in an unknown place. After an hour had passed he came upon a signpost for the port and he remembered how Jessie had told him how the port was used mostly for the trawling boats and the weekly ferry. The weekly ferry…?
The ferry that came once a week, bringing tourists and supplies – it would be coming in the morning.
James changed his course, now moving with a destination in mind. He would leave and he would create a new life for himself. He didn't belong here and he could never become the person Jessie waited for.
He sat on the end of the dock, his feet hanging over the edge, the black sea reaching up in attempt to touch his shoes. He waited and watched as the night paled, a distant sun rising, warm light glowing on the horizon, shining on the water's surface, revealing the glitter of swimming Goldeen as they peered at him from the depths.
It wasn't long before someone came up behind him, placing a sign beside him that showed the arrival and departure time of the ferry. "'ey, mate, you wantin' the ferry?"
He nodded. Seems like there's at least one person who doesn't know who he is on this island.
The man checked his watch. "Should be 'ere in ten minutes. Leaves in an 'our." He then turned and walked away, not giving the lone man a second thought. James returned to gazing out at the sea and soon enough he spotted the ferry moving steadily towards the island.
James lifted himself up, placing his rucksack over his shoulder. He pulled out his wallet that Jessie had given him. He had enough money for the ferry and enough for the essentials for three weeks. In that time he needed to find somewhere to stay and a job. It was plenty of time.
The ferry hit the side of the dock, the concrete structure shaking with the impact. When the ferry was moored and the tourists and returning islanders had disembarked, boxes and crates started to be carried off. James saw fruit, meat, grain, bleach, paper, glass… How much does this island need in a week?!
After forty minutes of standing out of the way, the man from before approached him. "'ere you go, mate." He passed him a ticket and then opened his other hand for money.
After James had placed the notes in the man's hand, he turned and left again, James completely forgotten once more.
James and a few others stepped onto the ferry, the majority taking seats inside. A family of five stood by the side, leaning over, pointing to the horizon with half-asleep eyes.
James went to the back of the ferry and watched as supplies were brought onboard. It looked and smelt like fish and a whole range of different seafood that the islanders had caught over the past week. An official looking document was signed, presumably confirming delivery, another passed to the ferry's captain, and then the ferry's engine roared.
As they pulled away from the port, James looked back at the island with a small smile on his face. He was leaving to make his own life and he felt free. This was his own choice and he felt secure with his decision.
However, his smile soon faded away as he caught sight of someone on the dock, red hair fluttering in the sea breeze, an arm raised, a hand waving desperately, a voice calling out across the water.
Ah…I'm sorry, Jessie. I'm sorry…
He turned away, his back to the island and the woman who called his name.
I'm sorry.