Chapter 6

Brock opened his eyes as the early Monday morning light struggled to get through the drapes over the windows. He had slept a little later than usual because he had stayed up all night making love to his wife, and they had enjoyed it, because it was a rare night where Fiona didn't interrupt them to come and crawl in their bed.

Misty lay with the sheet pulled under her arm, covering her breasts. Brock smiled, she was beautiful, even when she was asleep. He ambled into the bathroom that was adjoined to their bedroom and turned on his electric razor, shaving the stubble away on his face. He then brushed his teeth, and looked over into the bedroom, his wife stirring from her sleep.

She smiled when her eyes adjusted and she saw him. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Sleepy head," he said, after spitting out a wad of toothpaste in the sink and taking a swig of mouthwash.

"What time is it?" She asked, then without waiting for a reply, she looked over at the clock. It was after 9. "Fiona is going to be late for school."

"Ah, it will be fine," he said, shrugging. "It's just preschool. Now me, I'm going to be in big trouble if I'm not down at the gym for my 10 o'clock match."

Misty got to her feet and went into the bathroom, brushing her own teeth and fixing her hair as Brock got dressed. Then she felt him slip his strong arms around her waist and kiss her neck.

"I couldn't get enough of you last night," he growled sensually into her ear, moaning as he felt his erection struggle against the tightness of his denim. She smiled and turned around, allowing him to pull her up into his embrace, and then she heard his jeans hit the floor.

"Let's shower together," he said, already slipping off the nightgown she had put on when she got up.

"Brock, I'll never got Fiona to school on time," she said, kissing him anyway and turning the knob on the shower to warm up the water. Brock discarded his shirt and boxers on the ground, and once the water was warm enough he guided her into it, closing the glass door behind them, and kissing everywhere the warm water was rolling off of.

"Bend over," he whispered and she leaned against the wall, feeling him inside of her with one powerful thrust. She pressed her hands against the tiles on the wall, and looked back at Brock, enjoying the look of pure ecstacy on his face as he enjoyed her.

She moaned, feeling his hands on her hips and he drove deeper and deeper and faster as he could, his hand coaxing her body into her own orgasm. He felt her grow hotter and tigheter around him, and he knew he had made her cum. She tried to keep quiet, but it was hard to do as he kept sending little waves of pleasure rippling through his body as he released himself inside of her, driving deeper and deeper with each convulsion his body made.

He separated from her, turning her around and kissed her passionately on the lips, trying to steady his shaking knees.

"Shit, I really have to get to the gym," Brock said, looking at the clock in the bathroom by the Jacuzzi. He quickly got back into her clothes and fixed his hair, not bothering to shave. A little stubby can be sexy on a man, he supposed.

Misty slipped on the robe she had on when she went in there and picked up her hair brush. Brock kissed her goodbye, and within five minutes he had already left the house. Her whole body was still tingling from the wonderful sex they just had, even if it hadn't lasted long, but that sensation was quickly replaced with apprehension and fear when her foot stepped into something slimy, pushed into the carpet.

"What the hell?" She asked herself. She looked down to see what she had stepped on, and not able to identify it, she reached down to pick it up, but immediately dropped it again. It was a condom. A used one, at that. The tip of it was filled up, and she felt disgusted.

Was this...Brock's?

No, he hadn't used a condom. They were just talking about having another baby, and she had been taking the pill since just after Fiona was born, so he had no reason to...unless...

Her conversation with Lola came rushing back to her, when she had expressed her concerns about Flint's infedelity. Could Brock take after his father? Could he cheat on her in their own bathroom? Make love to another woman in their own shower, just like he did to her a few minutes ago?

No. Brock wouldn't do that. He loved her too much. Then, she thought about Rose. Had Rose brought a man in here that they didn't know about? Had she used their shower as a secret place to have sex at, and in a hurry, her lover had discarded his condom and ran?

She thought about the wonderful sex she had just had with Brock, again. Her naked body pressed against the tile of the wall, while he pounded into her as hard as he could, and suddenly, the thought wasn't so appealing anymore. Who else had been pressed up against that wall?

She washed her hands thoroughly, then wadded up toilet paper and threw the condom in the trash.

...

Brock felt a tinge of disappointment. His 10 A.M. challenger didn't show up, and he didn't have another one until noon. It happened every once in a while, he would have a battle scheduled, and they would either chicken out, forget, or not reach Pewter City at the time they thought they would.

His stomach growled anyway, and he walked into the office where Rose was familiarizing herself with all the paper work.

"Hey, I don't think that challenger is going to show up today. I don't have any battle scheduled until noon. Want to go grab some breakfast?" He asked, making a mental note to call Misty when he got out to the car and offer her some food.

"Oh, no, darling, you go on ahead," she gestured to him. "I ate breakfast before I left this morning."

"Alright," he said, backing out of the office and grabbing his coat of the hanger. He was just putting the key into the driver's door of his truck, when he saw his wife's Honda pull up. She had an angry look on her face, and Brock had wondered what had happened. That sure wasn't directed at him was it? He just gave her great sex before he left the house, she couldn't possibly be mad at him...could she?

"Hey, Sweetheart," he said, as she opened the car door.

"Where is my mother?" She asked.

"She's...in my office," he said, and Misty stomped towards the building, but Brock grabbed her arm.

"Whoa, whoa, Honey, what's going on?" He asked. "What happened?"

"I'm going to tell that bitch to get out right now!" She angrily growled, but Brock didn't let go of her arm. "Let go of me, Brock!"

"Honey, you are going to give yourself a heart attack. Just calm down, and talk to me," He said, opening the door of his truck with his free hand. "Rose has been gone even before we got up today. Listen, I'm out to go grab some food. My challenger bailed on me, so I'm free for about an hour and a half. Want to go somewhere and talk?"

Misty nodded, resigning herself to yelling at her mother later. It always did her some good to sit down and talk to Brock before she did something rash, like scream and yell at her mother and then kick her out, only later to feel guilty about not really thinking it through and letting her anger get the best of her. She had fumed all the way to Fiona's school though, dropping her off and hurrying to the Pewter Gym ready to blast her. But Brock always had a way of calming her down.

She climbed into his big truck, leaving her own car in front of the gym. As he started on the road that led to the gym, Misty stared out the window. Then as if the words were someone elses' and she had no control over what she was saying, she asked him: "Was it yours?"

Brock kept his eyes on the road. "Was what mine?"

"The condom." She replied, her eyes boring into the side of his face, so hard he almost felt like she was going to drill a hole right through it.

"Honey, I haven't bought a box of condoms since way before we got married," He grinned, and placed his hand on her leg. "What are you talking about?"

He kept his eyes on the road, until she spoke again, her voice revealing the tears she was keeping at bay.

"Don't ever cheat on me, Brock," her voice quivered, and Brock slowed the truck on the shoulder of the road.

"Hey, hey," he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "Misty, don't cry. I would never cheat on you. I ran half way across the world just to be with you and apologize for being such an idiot. I took a bullet for you. You saved my life..."

She looked up at him, her blue green eyes, glistening with tears in the late morning sun.

"We've been through this," Brock whispered, his voice pierced the silence of the truck. A car sped by a whoosh, and then another, then silence. "I love you and Fiona more than anything in this world."

Misty felt him wipe away the tears, and her offered her a smile, the same smile that always made her feel better all those nights when they were teenagers, and she was homesick. She would go and talk to him until three or four in the morning, and he would tell her he felt homesick too, sometimes, and somehow after their talk she wouldn't feel homesick at all. She felt at home with him.

"C'mon, let's get you some food and you can tell me what the hell is going on," he said, pulling the truck back onto the road. Just down the road was Pewter City Coffee and Tea. He went up to the register, ordered a coffee and a strussel muffin, and Misty ordered an iced Mocha and large bagel.

They picked a table that wasn't saturated by the sun through the windows and Brock sipped his coffee.

"So what's going on with you?" He asked. "Why are you asking me about condoms?"

She sighed. "I found one, in the bathroom. Right after you left...I stepped right on it. It was disgusting."

He chuckled, just a little. "I promise you, it wasn't mine. I can't even find condoms big enough to fit me." He then broke out into laughter.

Misty rolled her eyes and a smile tugged at her lips, she slapped her arm. "Brock!"

"I'm kidding!" He said, his laughter dying down as he tasted the muffin. "Seriously, though, you know it wasn't mine. Maybe...Rose?"

"Well, that's why I was so angry," she said, pushing the idea that it was Brock's out of her mind for good. It was silly for her to even think that! "She shouldn't be bringing strange men into our home and having sex with them in our showers. Especially ones who can't even clean up after themselves."

Brock nodded, in agreement, chewing his food. He thought back to the conversation he and Rose had a couple days ago, about the type of men she used to hang around with. Child molesters, rapists, probably even murderers and now anger even started to form inside of him. He didn't want strange men around his daughter or his wife.

"Look, I'll have a talk with her, OK?" He said. "I don't want you stressing yourself out. And I know talking to her isn't the easiest thing for you."

Misty smiled at him and finished off her bagel, wiping her hands of crumbs. It was better than Brock talked to her, because Misty knew she would only end up losing her temper at her mother, and Brock was level-headed and laid back.

Brock shoved the last of the muffin in his mouth. "I have to be back at the gym in 20 minutes." He said, his mouth so full, Misty probably wouldn't have understood him if she hadn't known him for 7 years.

They drove back to the Pewter Gym, this time, the heavy silence and doubt that weighed down the inside of the cab was gone and they sang along to the radio, catching some cheesy love song and singing to eachother, then laughing at themselves as they pulled up in front of the gym.

"I have to pee," Misty said, stepping out of the cab.

He opened the door to the gym and Misty walked past him, straight towards the bathroom and he prepared for his upcoming match. He hoped this one would show up. He heard noises coming from his office, and he checked his watch. Maybe his challenger had shown up a little early.

The sound of the bathroom door opening echoed through the gym and Misty stepped out, noticing Brock was preoccupied by something.

"What's wrong?" She asked. Then she heard it, too. Noises coming from his office. A feeling of dread washed over her. Oh God, no. Her mother couldn't be...not in Brock's gym. She felt embarassed, not only for herself, but for her mother too.

The look Brock gave her let her know that he was thinking the exact same thing, and he made his way to the office. She hesitated, but followed and soon the two of them were right outside the door. His office door was locked.

Knowing full well he didn't permit Rose to ever lock the door to his office, he frantically fumbled with his keys, and shoved the key into the lock, turning it and then swinging it open. There, on his desk, Rose lay on her back, naked, covered in a sweat, with her legs in the air and between them...Brock could hardly believe his eyes.

His father. His skin shined with a thin layer of sweat as he pounded himself as hard as he could into Rose, who was wrapping her legs tight around his waist. Her body writhing underneath him as waves of pleasure rippled through her.

Misty and Brock stood frozen for a long moment. Misty felt as if she was going to throw up.

Rose turned her head towards Brock, and their eyes locked. For a moment, Brock was sure she would jump up, shocked that she had been caught, but she didn't. She just smiled, and finally Brock found his voice.

"D-dad!" He shouted, and Flint immediately jumped up, covering himself with his shirt, and looking horrified when he processed what had just happened.

"Brock, this isn't-"

"I don't want to hear it, Dad!" He said, putting his hand up. Rose picked up her clothes off the ground.

"Brock, wait, let me explain," Flint told him, but Brock simply waved him off.

"You've never wanted to explain yourself before!" He shouted, then he looked over at Misty who had turned as white as a ghost. Then he faced his father again. "It was your condom wasn't it?"

"Condom? I've been with your mother for 32 years. You honestly think I own condoms?" Flint asked, then realized he had made a mistake, judging by the look on his son's face.

"Didn't stop you from putting your dick in places it doesn't belong," he glared at Rose, then back at Flint. "I'm done getting in your business, Dad. But don't think I'm not going to tell Mom."

"Brock, no, please you can't..." He ran after him and grabbed his shoulder, but Brock shoved him back, with alot of force.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Brock screamed at the top of his lungs, and it seemed to have brought Misty out of her trance. She had only seen Brock that angry one time...that one time when Tracey had attacked her in the flower garden in Pallet Town and he had almost killed him.

Misty rushed over to him and rubbed his arm. He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. He then moved his lips just next to her ear, his voice was smooth and soft.

"I will never, ever, do anything like this to you," he said, and Misty heard the tremor in his voice as tears threatened to betray him. When she looked up at him though, she could see they had already formed in his eyes and he blinked them back.

"I know, I'm...I'm sorry I even thought that..." she said, as he pulled her for a hug. Then he turned back to his father and Rose, who were, thankfully, dressed by now. "Both of you get out of my gym!"

"Now, hold on just a minute, Son!" Flint's voice boomed out across the gym. "This is my gym! You can't tell me to get out of my own gym."

Brock's face turned into a smirk, and there was no sign of emotion that he had just shown to his wife less than a minute before. "I've ran this gym better than you ever could, Dad. It takes a real man to run Pewter City gym. And you aren't a real man. You never were!"

...

December 1994

Brock couldn't sleep. He never could sleep on Christmas Eve. The glow of the Christmas tree, and the snow falling outside, just waiting for Santa to bring him presents. It was like magic. Lola had sent him, and his little brother, Forest, to bed hours ago, and though his two little sisters, Suzy and Cindy were just infants, barely even a year apart, she still insisted they must also be asleep before Santa would come.

The two of them had snuck downstairs and found their mother in the kicthen, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book. She heard their not so subtle footsteps and looked up.

"Brock? Forest?" She said, her soft brown hair bouncing with just the slightest movement of her head. "What are you two doing awake? Santa will be here any minute and if he sees you two up, he's going to give his toys to other little boys. Do you want that to happen?"

Brock and Forest both shook their heads in unison and Lola's stern face soon softened into a smile.

"Oh, come here, you two little monsters!" She giggled and pulled them up into a hug.

"Can I have some hot chocolate?" Brock asked, climbing into a chair.

"Me too!" Forest said, and Lola sighed.

"Well, it is Christmas," she said, going over to the fridge to get the milk out. "But as soon as you are done. You must go to bed."

The clock on the oven read just after midnight, and she tried to hide her worry from her two boys. Flint still wasn't back yet. But she knew where he was. He was drinking. Again. Just like he did every other night. And she knew the real reason she wanted her children in bed asleep, because if they were awake when he got home, and he decided he wanted to have sex, it wouldn't turn out good for anyone.

She warmed up the coffee mugs and poured cocoa mix into both, and set them down in front of her sons. Brock sipped it and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"It's good, Mommy," he said, kicking his legs excitedly.

Forest agreed with a nod of a his head.

Then, the front door cracked open, and Lola felt panic rise within her. Oh, please, God, don't let him be in a bad mood tonight.

Brock and Forest looked at eachother, their eyes wide with excitement.

"Santa!" They both squealed in Unison.

"You boys stay in here," Lola told them. "Do not peek. Whatever you do...Santa will take your toys away if you peek. Do you understand me?" Her voice held a firmness that told Brock she was completely serious and he decided, no matter how bad he wanted to get a peek at Santa, that he wouldn't, and he knew Forest would follow his decision.

"Lola!" His voice bellowed through the house, and Brock knew it wasn't Santa. He stood up, abandoning his hot cocoa and leading his little brother behind the cabinets in the kitchen. Hiding. Shaking. He didn't want to get a beating tonight.

Lola walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he stumbled into the living room. He glanced at the tree, glowing with Christmas lights, and the presents that adorned the bottom of it.

"What's all of this shit?" He asked.

"I leave the Christmas lights on for the kids on Christmas Eve. You know, so Santa can see where to put the presents," she smiled, but she saw him snarl.

"Stupid." He muttered, and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke right in her face. She coughed. "Aren't they smart enough to know it's not real? Stupid damn kids got rocks for brains or something?"

"They're little, Flint," she said, still trying to clear the smoke from her lungs. "It's fun for them."

"Ain't fun for me," he growled, irritably, and smashed his cigarette into the floor. "God damn it, Lola! Clean that up!"

"But Flint-"

"Now!" He screamed, and she rushed over by the door, picked up the broom and dust pan and swept up the cigarette, discarding it in the trashcan.

Forest looked over at Brock as they hid behind the L-shaped cabinets in their kitchen. The sound of his father's loud voice was enough to make him cry, and he watched the tears spill down his brother's cheeks. Brock knew he couldn't cry. He had to protect his little brother and his mother.

Forest had learned not to scream or make any noise when he cried. He knew that only made his father more angry.

Flint's smiled curled into a mischevious grin and he pulled Lola close to him. "Are you going to give me some of that sweet pussy?" He laughed and the alcohol burned her nostrils.

"Let's go upstairs," she said, but knew he wasn't going to be satisfied with that.

"Why go up there?" He asked, pulling her close and kissing her. The scent of the booze he had been drinking all night was strong on his tongue as he forced it inside of her mouth. "Why not right here on the couch? We have this romantic lighting from the tree. We can fuck all night right here on the couch until the brats wake up."

Pushed her down on the couch and she hoped Brock and Forest would just go on to bed. He kissed her, hard on the mouth and Lola instictively pushed him away, even though she knew it was the wrong thing to do.

He stopped and looked down at her. "Oh? What are you now? Too good to fuck me, miss Lola Bunny?" He laughed, almost wickedly.

"The kids...The kids are awake," she said, and he laughed even louder.

"So? How do you think they got here?" He kissed her again and Lola resisted again, knowing she shouldn't have, but the scent the alcohol made her want to gag.

"Flint..."

"God damn it, Lola!" He screamed, and the walls seemed to shake with his anger. Forest buried his face into Brock's chest and Brock held him close, comforting him.

"It's OK, Forest," Brock whispered, his voice barely audible and cracked with tears of his own that he refused to let show. "It's OK. I won't let him hurt you."

"I don't want to him to hit you again," Forest said, looking up, his face red with tears that he let flow freely.

"It's OK," Brock forced a smile and winked. "I can take it."

But somehow, Forest knew he couldn't. He knew it hurt him, and he knew that the beatings got worse and worse eachtime.

Brock's heart clenched at the sound of his mother crying, as his father began to throw things. He heard a loud crash and the Christmas tree fell to the floor, plunging the living room into the blackness of night.

Then, he immediately heard the sickening slap of Flint's hand against his mother's flesh and something inside Brock just snapped. He rose up to his feet, settled Forest by the cabinets and rushed into the living room. The light from the kitchen showed his mother on the floor, and his father on top of her, delivering slap after slap to his mother's face.

"Stop!" Brock yelled, but his little voice didn't carry much over his father's bellowing one.

"You God Damn slut!" Flint screeched, pulling Lola by the hair and slamming her face into the wall. Brock watched with horror, frozen by fear, and willing himself to move. To do something.

Lola screamed in agony as she sank to the floor, only to be yanked up by her hair again and dragged into the kitchen, where he threw her towards the oven.

"If you ain't gonna fuck me, at least feed me!" He slammed his fist on the counter and Brock rushed back in the kitchen, worried about Forest. In the light of the kitchen he could see the cuts and red marks on his mother's face, and the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

"It's OK, Baby," his mother's voice was barely audible through her tears as she turned on the oven and boiled water, her eyes never leaving Brock's as he cradled his little brother in his arms.

"What the hell are they doing up?" Flint yelled again, piercing Brock's eardrums.

"They...they just wanted..." Lola began, but trailed off when she saw Flint approaching them. No! No! Not again! She would die before she let Flint lay a hand on Brock again. The last beating he gave him nearly sent him to the hospital, and...and if she was a good mother, she would have taken him. But she didn't want her children taken from her. She couldn't live here with Flint without him.

She stepped in front of Brock and Forest.

"No! You won't touch them, Flint!" She felt a boldness come over her, even though her voice shook, she still sheilded her boys from the beast. The beast she had married and had given four beautiful children to.

He slapped her out of the way, and picked Brock up by his shirt collar, choking him as he did so. Brock quivered with fear, and he felt blow after blow to his chest, back, legs and head until his father threw him down on the floor. With a soar body he scrambled to his feet, and Flint knocked dishes in the floor, shattering them, before stumbling upstairs to the bedroom.

Lola, a bit dizzy from being slapped, crawled over to her boys on the floor. Her lip was cut, swollen and bleeding, and her cheeks were puffy with tears and cuts. She pulled her boys away from the shattered glass and leaned up against the oven, having no strength to move much, except to gather her boys in her arms. Brock shuddered in her embrace, as sobs overtook his body.

He wasn't strong enough.

He wasn't strong enough to protect her!

...

He lost his match, and as he refunded the young kid from Pewter City his fee and a shiny boulder badge, Misty walked down from the balcony above the battlefield.

"Honey, are you OK?" She asked, and he sat down, burying his face in his hands.

"I don't...I don't know," he said, sighing. "I just...I don't know how I'm going to tell my Mom. Or...even if I should tell her."

Misty sat down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder and he took her small hand into his. Her wedding ring glistened in the lights above the gym. She was silent as she waited for him to speak again, sensing that he had more to say.

"As much as I want to, I can't Rose out," Brock said, and Misty looked at him, puzzled.

"W-why?" She asked, a little unsure of the question.

"Because I can't just kick a woman out, knowing she has no place to go," Brock stood up and paced in front of her. "I can't kick anyone out on the street. I'm just...not that kind of person. Especially a woman."

"So, she's staying?" Misty asked, knowing he was right. They couldn't just kick people out and enjoy their priveleges and blessings when they were the direct cause for someone being homeless. No matter what dispicable things they may have done.

"For now," he said, shaking his head, disagreeing with himself about his decision already. "Until we can find her a place to go."

"What about my sisters?" Misty asked, already knowing the answer.

"They won't let her stay with them," Brock replied, flatly. Then he turned back to her and offered his hand to help her up off the platform on which he stood when he was battling. "It's almost 3 o'clock. Fiona's almost out."

"Oh, right!" Misty headed out of the gym. "I'll see you at home!"