I know that I still have to update The Kanto Journeys, but for now I've decided to put it on hold for just a bit. I want to focus on finishing this story and completing some other ones I have planned before I go any further with TKJ. This does not mean I'm abandoning it; I'm merely taking a break from it as I feel a bit burned out over it right now. I don't know how long it will be until I resume; it may be only a few weeks or upwards of a couple of months.

Shoutouts:

King Reeses - Thank you; I'm glad you liked it.

Alina 122 - As always, your reviews make me smile. Thank you~

JordanMax - I had a feeling you would fangirl over that ;)

Guest - Haha, yep.

Kitty - That means a lot! Thank you!

Tpclique - *gives more story*

LEGAL-EAGLE53 - Thank you for leaving so many reviews!

The featured story for this chapter is The End of Team Rocket by Crestilia. "After the crisis in Kalos has ended, Ash Ketchum is back in Pallet Town. One conversation later, he's back on another ambiguous adventure around Kanto. With an overpowered Pikachu and a terrible sense of direction at his side, the Pokemon Trainer is on his way to a heck load of inconvenience... and possibly some Team Rocket trouble." It has an interesting plot, and is worth a read if you're looking for one.

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~ "Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything." ~

- George Bernard Shaw

Movies always go to extremes when portraying the whole "friends kiss" situation. They either have the two fall in love and live happy ever after, which is stupid, or they go and make things all awkward between the two... which is more along the lines of what I was expecting.

But, turns out movies really aren't that accurate in regards to portraying this type of situation, regardless of how they do it. I know, not surprising, but still. One would at least think they'd have to get at least something right about such a topic.

Nope.

Misty and I went on as normal after our little moment in the park. She still hounded after me with her overbearing selflessness and I still bit her head off for it every single time.

In all honesty, I was glad for that. Our feelings were out, yet they hadn't changed a single thing. We still bickered and snapped at one another, yet somehow it felt even better to do so than it had before. Perhaps now the scathing insults and sharp exchanges had more affectionate undertones. Or maybe I was just getting used to it.

Who knows.

What I did know, however, was that I was glad to have her. Yeah, I admit it. I was glad to have her. What I told her that night wasn't a lie. It was pure, from-the-heart honesty. I did appreciate her. I needed her. I wasn't about to admit that again, however, and she knew that.

And yet, she'd still pester me about it.

She was doing just that as we walked to Chemistry that morning. Her eyes caught sight of a couple walking hand-in-hand in front of us. She gave me a friendly jab with her elbow, a grin spreading across her face.

"You know, Ash," she started, "It'd be nice if you did that once in a while."

I gave her a death stare. "Don't even start."

She gave me a look of mocking innocence. "Start what? All I'm saying is that it'd be nice of you to hold my hand once in a while. You know, like a man."

I snarled at her through my teeth. "Shut up! People are gonna start getting ideas."

"And what's wrong with that?" She shoved herself right up next to me, sending me into a near panic attack. "Does the thought of being romantic in public scare you?"

I quickened my pace, trying desperately to get away from her. God did she know how to send me running like a cat from a dog.

She continued following me, however, swooning like she was reading some kind of male model magazine.

"Ash, where are you going? Aren't you going to walk with your sweet angel?"

I just shook my head, trying to block her out. I, of course, knew that she was just pushing my buttons, but the rest of the school did not. They'd all assume that she was sweet on me, which in turn would earn me the teasing of Gary.

Which it had. And it did again.

"Hey loser," Gary sneered. The little piece of fecal matter leaned against the locker beside mine, his face twisted into a sneer. "How's your sweet baboo?" Behind him, his lackeys laughed.

I refused to face him, instead keeping my face buried in my locker. "Fine."

"Have you even kissed her yet? Bet you haven't!"

I clenched my fists. "Actually, Gary, I have."

He let out a cackling laugh. "Hear that, boys? He says he's kissed her! Bet he's never even held her hand, let alone kissed her!"

I slammed my locker door shut, so hard that it sent a harsh vibration through the whole row. "Why do you care? I'm not even dating her, nor do I think you have any interest in her, so why the hell do you care?"

He stepped forward, getting so close to me that I could feel his breath on my face. It smelled like tuna. "And what if I was? What if I wanted her for myself? What would you do then, Ashy-boy?"

I stared him down, my fists shaking as a result of my growing fury.

"What if you saw me kissing her? Holding her? What if I took her to her first ball? What if I took her on her first date? What if I took all of her firsts?"

I shoved him then. I pushed out with all my might, my hands connecting hard with his chest. He flew backward, obviously not prepared for the strike. He hit the lockers with a loud bang! as his bootlickers started chanting "fight, fight, fight!".

Gary just stood there with a stupid grin on his face as I charged toward him, arm drawn back in preparation to deliver a ruthless punch.

Before I could get to him, however, cold hands grabbed my outstretched arm.

"Ash," a soft voice close to my ear said. "Don't."

I turned my head to see Misty standing right behind me, a warning in her eyes. I let her bring my arm back into its normal position, my anger fading.

She shook her head slowly. "It's not worth it, Ash. Don't let him antagonize you. He's only doing it so you can get in trouble. Don't give him the satisfaction."

I pursed my lips. "Yeah."

Behind me, Gary decided to open his bullshit-spewing pipe again. "Aw, isn't that cute? He does what she says! Of course, what else can you expect from a weak-minded fool?"

I looked back over at him, but didn't say anything. Misty was still a strong presence at my shoulder, and I knew she'd just stop me if I tried to.

After giving him my worst stare for as long as I deemed necessary, I walked away.

He shouted after me and cussed me out, but I refused to give him another glance. Not with Misty by my side, at least. Alone, maybe. But not with her. I wasn't going to let her see me stoop any closer to Gary's level.

We walked to lunch together from there. For once, Misty left the jokes out of the conversation we had.

"Thanks for your help back there," I said quietly. "I get a bit carried away sometimes."

She murmured something I couldn't quite hear, then added in an audible tone, "Anybody would have gotten worked up over that. It's not your fault."

I shrugged. "Still, you saved me from a lot of trouble. Before you came here, I got sent to in-school for fighting with him. The principal told me that if it happened again, I'd be suspended. So... you basically saved me from getting my ass kicked out."

She shook her head. "Even though I'm sure they're aware of how much of a jerk he is. Unbelievable."

I scoffed. "That's school administration for you. Gary's popular and he somehow manages to make good grades, so he gets free passes for everything he does."

"School officials are dumb."

"Agreed." I looked down at her hands, which were swinging by her sides. "Why were your hands so cold? When you grabbed me before, I thought you were going to give me frostbite or something."

She took a glance at her hands, which were still slightly red. "Oh. Yeah. I was outside with my Environmental Science class. We're growing plants, and my group's experiment is to see if watering each plant with water at a different temperature would affect their growth. I had to handle ice for cooling the water for one plant."

"You take more than one science class?"

She rubbed the back of her head. "Yeah," she admitted sheepishly. "I really like the sciences."

I laughed. "I'm surprised someone actually can."

She gave me a confused look. "You don't?"

"Nah."

"But my mom told me that you said that you wanted to be a doctor."

I gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, I did, but that may have been a bit of a lie. I honestly haven't thought much about what I want to do."

"Well, I think you'd make a great doctor."

I gave her a look. "Seriously?"

She smirked. "Seriously." Before I could say anything further, she veered away from me and joined the lunch line. Shaking my head, I made my way into the cafeteria.

As usual, I sat alone. Misty must have told me a thousand times that I could sit with her and May, but each time I rejected her offer. I liked sitting alone. Lunch was the one time of the day when I could choose whether or not to deal with people. I wanted to take advantage of that as best I could.

The only thing that I had was a cold slice of pizza, since my dad had neglected to do the shopping. His drinking had gotten more frequent. He'd often come home drunk as a skunk, which he never normally did. Typically, he'd come home sober, yell at me some, then retreat to his office and get drunk behind closed doors.

Not lately.

I found myself feeling concerned over the change. Not because I really cared all that much about when he chose to get drunk, but because he obviously had to drive home from whatever bar it was he got drunk at. The last thing I needed was him winding up with a fine and a revoked license for drunk driving. Just thinking about how much worse he'd become as a result made me shudder.

There was unfortunately nothing I could do about it, however. I simply had to be an observer. My job was to watch and not interfere. If he got caught drunk driving, it would be because he'd brought it on himself, not because my efforts to help him failed. I just hoped he didn't wind up killing someone.

My eyes darted up just in time to see Gary walk into the cafeteria with his groupies. He looked thoroughly pissed about something. I kept my gaze trained on him as he crossed the room, coming to a grinding halt right in front of Sampson, one of the local potheads.

"Stand up!" the spiky-haired kid screamed. "Stand up and face me, you sick motherfucker! You wanna touch my girl, huh? Not on my fucking watch! Stand up!"

The whole lunchroom was quiet now. Everyone was watching as red-faced Gary tried to goad Sampson into a fight.

Seeing that his shouting was getting him nowhere, Gary decided to take more drastic measures. He grabbed Sampson by the collar of his shirt and hauled him out of his chair.

That's when the lunch monitors got involved. One of them grabbed Gary as soon as he touched the freshman, grabbing him by the shoulders and jerking him back. He was so surprised by the sudden act that he released the boy, who quickly retreated out of Gary's reach.

The lunch monitor hauled a protesting Gary out of the cafeteria, with the latter snarling curses directed at the school. A wide grin spread across my countenance.

Karma sucks.

I looked over at where Misty was sitting. She caught my gaze and smiled, a knowing look in her eyes.

I went home that day feeling satisfied.

As usual, I was the first one home. I took the only thing left in the fridge, half a block of cheese, and ate it. I knew full well that what was there was all I was going to get, so I was damn well going to savor it.

While cutting through one particular spot in the cheese, I came to a tough spot. As I tried to force the knife through it, my thumb - unbeknownst to me - slipped a bit too close to the blade. Next thing I knew, I had a nasty slice in my thumb and was dripping blood all over the wood.

Sighing, I wiped the droplets off of the table with a paper towel and went upstairs for the first aid kit. I found it buried underneath a bunch of crap in the linen closet. Fortunately, there were enough supplies for me to treat the wound without much difficulty. I poured some rubbing alcohol over it and wrapped it tight in a bandage. Once I was satisfied with it, I made my way back toward the stairs.

I didn't know then why I did it. I still don't know why I did it. As I passed my father's office - which had been left open - I looked into it. I normally never did, since most of the time I spent upstairs was either in my room or under my father's watchful eye.

I saw what looked like a photo album sitting open next to a half-empty bottle of wine. Deep down, I knew better than to go into his office. My father had forbade me from going in there since I was young. Still, curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself walking into his office for the first time in years.

The book sitting on the desk was in fact a photo album. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the pictures on the pages it was opened to.

They were all of my mother at various stages of her life. I raised a hand to my face, tears pricking at the backs of my eyes.

I had very faint memories of what my mother looked like, so to see her before me in all her glory was incredible. She had elegant brown hair, sharp eyes and a kind smile, the latter of which was one of the few things I remember about her.

I began flipping through the pages. As the photos progressed, they inched closer and closer to modern times. Dad and mom on their wedding day. Mom when she was pregnant with me. My grandma holding a newborn me. Mom, dad and me sitting together on a park bench.

"She was an amazing woman, you know."

My head snapped up. My father was standing hunched over in the doorway in a clear state of drunkenness. His eyes were glazed over as he looked at me.

"D-dad!" I stuttered. "I-I didn't mean to-"

"She loved life," he commented, cutting me off. It was as if he wasn't even listening. I backed up until my back hit the wall as he came closer. He took the album in his hands and looked at the pictures, tears welling in his eyes.

"Did I ever tell you how she died?" he asked suddenly.

The question shocked me. My father, the man who had insisted on keeping my mother's death a secret for so long, was about to tell me how it all went down? What the hell?

But of course, I wasn't going to pass up on the opportunity. Pressing down the fleeting concern that it was a trick, I said, "No, sir."

He chuckled softly. "It was a terrible night. Rain like you wouldn't believe. I had to work late, so your mother agreed to pick you up from after-school daycare. The two of you went out to eat at a McDonald's. When she told me your plans, I talked her into eating in the restaurant in the hopes that the rain would slow down in the meantime. I didn't want her driving in it."

He walked past me, leaning against the wall to stare out the window. The sun was setting outside, casting an orange hue over everything.

"So the two of you went. While you were eating, she decided to go out to the car for some reason. Probably... left something. Anyways, as she was walking out a man approached her. He asked her for some money, and when she refused... he shot her in the stomach."

My stomach dropped.

My father raised a hand to his face, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. He took in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Someone in the restaurant saw it as it happened. He tried to run after the man, but ended up getting shot, too. The man then fled, but ended up being struck by a car coming around the curve as he did.

"Then the ambulances came. One of the first responders phoned me. I was home by then. By the time I got to her... it was bad. The bullet tore through her liver. They tried to operate, but it wasn't very successful. She died the following morning."

I stared down at the place where the book had been. I tried to recall something, anything, from that time. Anything of those final moments with my mother. But I could not.

My father slammed his fist against the wall, making me jump. "Dammit, if I had just-". His voice faltered on the last word.

I turned to look at him. He had his other hand shoved in his mouth, his teeth biting down so hard on it I could see blood. His face was red, his eyes dark.

After a few moments he removed his hand. He looked at me, then out the window, then down at himself. He shook his head, over and over again. "I tried."

Looking at him, standing there in his most vulnerable state, I almost felt bad for him. I felt the smallest ounce of sympathy work its way up my chest. This was a man who had lost the thing he cared most about by trying to keep it safe. He lost his wife because he had tried to keep her off of roads he knew could very well kill her. In the end, however, the real killer ended up being in the exact place he thought was safe. It was his choice, not hers, that brought her face-to-face with death.

How awful must that have been?

He reached out to me then. His hand came forward, coming to a rest on my shoulder. His eyes shone with a mixture of sadness and alcohol. "You forgive me, don't you? You understand."

My eyes met his for the first time in eleven years.

I saw at the front of them a genuine desire to receive my forgiveness. He wanted me to accept him. To tell him that I understood his position. He had made a move that had proved itself costly. His failure to protect his wife had broken him. Reduced him to a man that did nothing more than drink and beat on his own son because he didn't know how else to cope. He wanted me to understand.

But I couldn't.

Even though I truly did feel bad for him over what happened, even though I knew he didn't want any of it to happen, I couldn't. I couldn't accept him. Not after what he'd did to me. What he still did to me. My mother... If she were in his position, she never would have resorted to abuse. She loved me too much.

"I can't," I admitted, my voice cracking. I tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed my arm.

"Hey," he said, his voice firm. "Don't walk away from me. Not now."

A past me would have submitted. A past me would have broken down and told him that I understood. But the present me wouldn't. Even though I was still scared to death, the smallest amount of bravery was finally working its way into me.

I jerked harder, but he held strong. "I said I can't," I said, my own voice coming out stronger than before.

Fury sparked in his eyes as I continued to struggle. Finally I managed to pull hard enough, wrenching myself free from his grasp. Fast as lightning I spun on my foot and got away from him.

"Hey!" he screamed after me, his voice shaking the very foundations of the house. "Don't you dare walk away from your own dad!"

I stopped a bit before the doorway. Looking over my shoulder, I said, "I would never walk away from my dad."

"Then get back here!"

I stared at him, forcing my gaze to stay level with his even though I wanted nothing more than to drop it. My heart pounded against my ribcage, blood roaring in my ears.

"But I would from my father."

I walked out.