Chapter 11

Sorry for the later update! I was at a conference in LA for a while, but now I'm back so hooray! Anyway, here's the next chapter. We are going to finally enter this new arc where Ash and Serena attempt to rebuild their relationship, as broken and painful as it is. It's not going to be a quick process, but I don't want to make it last forever either. Anyway, hopefully I can find a balance.

Thank you for all your reviews, favorites, and alerts! The next update should happen more speedily. Stay tuned.

Before he had drawn his sword, Ash had felt the light touch of her fingers brushing against the side of his hand. The feathery sensation had caused him to hesitate for a tenth of a second, enough time for Drifter's Dragonite to inhale and explode with a powerful pulse of breath that hit Ash right in the chest, sending him backwards fifty feet in to the trunk of a tree.

Ash felt his body begin to heal, Lunala hissing in his ear, demanding him to get up. He grunted and used to tree to get back on his feet. His head throbbed with pain and confusion. He felt conflicted for some reason. Lunala's voice sounded weak and more distant than usual, and his eyes were watching the world with the daze that follows a long nap. He was still angry, but it went beyond Drifter's return from the dead.

After recovering, Ash looked up to see Drifter urging Serena to come with him. She was still watching Ash from across the fiery blown path, ripped in to existence by the force of the Dragonite's breath. Her eyes were unreadable. He didn't know whether she wanted him to go back to her or to stay away. She was afraid. Looking at him, Serena was afraid and Ash did not expect to be devastated by her eyes. She was afraid of him. She was afraid.

Ash watched Drifter pull her up, and Serena crying out from the pain shooting up her leg. And when she began to cry, Ash lost it.

He drew his sword. He began to run. With his face set in to a growl, he sprinted towards Drifter, and the prophet dropped Serena just before Ash's sword pierced him through the neck. Ash then swung back around and Drifter caught the attack with his blade, parrying the blow to the side. The prophet lunged forward. Ash knocked the blade down and kicked Drifter in the chest, sending him to the floor where Ash tried to nail him to the dirt, but his opponent rolled out from underneath the attack.

Drifter jumped up to his feet, twirling his white sword between his hands, trying to throw off Ash's concentration. He then swung from the right, but Ash blocked the blow and deflected the retaliation. He then swung up, but the attack drew both swords in to a gridlock, both men shoulder to shoulder. Drifter then knocked Ash back, smacking the young man in the face with his hilt and jumped back before Ash could cut the prophet's skull in two.

Ash felt his nose begin to bleed.

"Ash!" Serena called out to him, but he was still dazed from the anger burning behind his senses. It ignited the world in a bright white light, and he began to panic.

"Serena, no!"

Ash felt a hand grab his shoulder, but blinded by the blood and his shock, he lifted his sword and buried it in to something soft and warm.

Pulling away, his mind began to return to him. The brightness of the world began to subside, and the first thing Ash saw was his sword—the dark blade made darker by the blood dripping from its tip—and he saw his hands, tainted liked the rest of him. And he looked up.

Serena was falling. Her eyes were closed—gone from the present—and her skin fell in to a snowy state; frozen white while the hole in her abdomen darkened in to a web of red rivers expanding out of her.

By instinct, Ash reached out to catch her, and she fell in to his embrace; her hair stuck to his face, her blood stained on his hands. He began to shake.

"No, no, no, no, no," he muttered and muttered and searched her face for any sign of life. Ash lifted her head towards him, but it rolled back. She looked so pale.

"What have you done?" Drifter breathed, collapsing on to his knees.

Ash did not have time to waste. He ripped off his shirt, tearing it in to strips and trying it around her lower stomach, pulling it tight to add pressure to the wound. He whistled and his Charizard landed before him.

"What are you doing? I can't let you leave with her," Drifter said, about to redraw his sword but was thrown back off his feet by a blaze of blue fire exploding from Ash's palm.

Ash then picked Serena up and held her in to his chest. He slipped on to his Charizard and the dragon took off in to the air, breathing fire out on to the trees and the inferno rose up, fogging the sky.

After Drifter had recovered from his shock, he looked up and only saw smoke.

xxxxx

Blue fire began to eat the camp from the trees downward. Brock and Clemont were not only dodging beams of energy and shadow balls, but falling trees lit like gigantic torches. The two were using their pokemon to knock aside the burning wood from crashing on to wounded soldiers helpless on the floor. The Dark Army continued their assault, using the reckless destruction to disorient the Purehearted. Brock could see Flynn and the other generals losing control. They were too distracted by their own battles up in the sky to give orders to any of the troops, and their absence began harming the moral of their soldiers.

"Kaleb, start putting out those fires!" Brock shouted, while Kaleb and Bonnie used their burrowed Blastoise to extinguish the flames that began to eat at the grass.

"We've been trying, but everything's burning!" Bonnie cried, coughing at all the smoke entering her lungs and skin and eyes. She clung to Kaleb's arm while trying to take back the use of her physical senses.

"We need to start retreating," Kaleb said, staring hard at the tall gym leader, "you need to take over. Start getting these guys out of here."

Brock hesitated. He looked back at the young trainer, reluctant and insecure. They had only been training with these men and women for a few weeks…why would they listen to him?

"Brock?"

Clemont, Kaleb, and Bonnie were looking at him—all of them scared. They didn't know what to do and if no one did anything, Brock realized, he and all his friends would die. He felt the small triangle burn on his chest.

"Start by going to anyone that's hurt; help them use their pokemon to get out of here. I don't know where Drifter said to go, but make sure once you've helped as many as you can, to follow them back to their second base," Brock began, and threw a pokeball towards Kaleb, who caught it and looked at the sphere, "that's Gyrados, use him to fly out of here."

"How are we going to get the others to stop fighting?" Clemont asked.

"We smoke them out," Brock replied, "we need to smoke everyone out."

The four of them all nodded and went their separate ways; two and two. Clemont called upon Heliolisk; Brock used Toxicroak. They both exchanged glances and then called out in unison:

"Smokescreen!"

xxxxx

Drifter flew frantically throughout the camp, searching and researching the skies for the lost dark figure that had taken off in a shield of smoke. Hoards of dark pokemon impeded him. Riders from Lunala's army charged from every direction. Drifter did not struggle defended himself, but he couldn't keep his Dragonite focused long enough to track Ash's scent. He had lost Ash for good, and with Ash, Serena.

Drifter shouted out of frustration, drawing his sword and knocking an oncoming rider off his Salamance, letting that man fall to the earth from ten thousand feet off the ground. Drifter's attention turned to the battlefield, and his heart broke to see the massive causalities the Purehearted were suffering due to their disobedience.

Where is your faith?

Drifter clenched his sword in tandem with his jaw. He tried not to shake with rage, but shouted at the sky, "This wasn't supposed to happen! Why did you let him take her? You know that if she dies—,"

—why do you question me, even now? You know that the light will have its victory, as it is written. I work all things together for good. Even the choices of the wicked. Have faith.

Drifter sighed, but did not relax. His muscles kept their contours of tension beneath his skin and he breathed heavily over the clouds. "When are you going to show yourself to this disobedient army and take up the mantle as general?"

Drifter could feel Solgaleo rumble with slight amusement. Have I not already shown myself through you and the markings on the chest of the Pureheated? Even with my spirit you are still blind, Drifter. You expect me to fall from the sky before all of your faces, stricken with awe, but I will tell you this: I will be revealed through the darkest of hearts, so that you may know I am the King over light and death.

Then Drifter looked back down at the battle at hand. He saw Bonnie and Kaleb helping the injured up and on to pokemon flying them west out of battle. He saw Brock and Clemont creating fumes to hide the vulnerable soldiers on foot, and the army began to retreat. Even Flynn was calling back his men after seeing Brock order them away from the fire. The tide was turning. Obedience was giving way to life.

Now, Drifter, will you guide my chosen ones home?

Serena thought she had died many times over. She would open her eyes and see nothing but darkness. It took time for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, probably the moon, pouring in from the single small window above her bed against the left wall. From where she lay, Serena could only make out outlines of things; of a chair at her bedside, of a rug on the floor, of the door ten feet from the foot of her bed. She would only last a minute, maybe two, before going back to sleep.

xxxxx

There were times Serena would wake up, but have no strength to open her eyes. In this state she would just touch the covers of the bed, the hard pillow beneath her. She would feel her fingers running themselves down her stomach, to make sure her body was there, and that she wasn't dreaming. She would move her touch down her torso until she felt a hard bandage across her abdomen. She would press on it lightly. The pain would make her faint.

xxxxx

Other times, Serena knew she was being watched. She would open her eyes then, and she would see a figure sitting in the darkness, on the chair next to her bed. She would squint for more detail, but only the outline of his body would peel away from the black canvass of the room. His eyes would reflect the light at the window across from him. They would always be gold.

Serena, for being partly disoriented and partly unsure whether or not he was real, would moved her arm towards the figure. She just wanted to touch him, to feel him viscerally beneath her.

But he would move away.

xxxxx

After what seemed like years living in the dark, Serena woke up to the sun. It came down on her through the small window and heated the sheets of her bed. Serena grew hot.

She tried peeling off the different layers of blankets, but even that took more effort than she expected. She managed to slip out of the comforter and a blanket, and was left with just a white sheet covering her pale, sickly frame. Serena wondered how much time had passed. She also wondered where her clothes were, seeing as she wore nothing but her underwear, her bra, and the large bandage across her lower stomach. The bandages, she noted, were dark red at the center, blots like watercolor all over the originally white canvass. It still hurt, but not as much. Serena could move to her side now without feeling much pain; maybe a light throb. She could lift herself up and sit, which she did, and looked through the window. Outside there was nothing but thick forest, and it turned the light entering the room a yellow-green color. It reflected off of the dark-wood walls of this cabin Serena found herself in. She tried to remember what had happened, but could only remember bits and bits.

Then the door opened.

Serena froze. Memories rushed back to her and she tried not to tremble, lest she should faint. The room grew cold, and icy sweat developed along her neck. She reached for the sheets, bringing them weakly in front of her chest.

Ash came in carrying a tray of berries and tea. He stood there for a moment, while both of them regarded the irony of this situation. Ash still looked dark and cold, his face fixed in to its foreign sternness, but Serena couldn't stop staring at his eyes, and the newfound color in his face. He looked more that the Ash she had known, and this stunned her. This man, whom she had not seen for five years—had not spoken to or been with for so long—was here now, bringing her breakfast, and staring at her as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"You're awake," Ash said, his tone deep and matter-of-fact.

Serena nodded.

Ash went over to her. He placed the tray down next to a plain, wooden nightstand standing beside the bed. He let her watch him, as she studied the lines of his face; the familiar zig-zags, that almost looked like scars, beneath his cheeks. She wanted to keep finding what was familiar in him, hold on to it, so that she could find a way to still love him and forgive him for who he had become and what he did to her. The man fighting Drifter, she could not love. But the boy serving her berries, she would choose over and over again.

When she tried to sit up, Ash stopped her, reaching out without touch. "Wait, it could still hurt."

Serena looked up and saw his brow creased. He was biting the inside of his lip, watching her with a pleading sort of look. When she moved to sit up further, despite his warning, she felt a sharp jab shoot up her stomach. Grimacing, Serena fell back in a daze. The world grew white for a moment and she began to sweat.

She felt a hand catch her skull before it could hit the wall. Ash guided her back down to the pillow, and she took her chance—reaching up to touch his face and felt him underneath her fingers. Serena heard him inhale and let out a jaded breath. He moved pushed in to her hand and then pulled away.

"I did this to you," he whispered, looking out at the window where the sun poured through in growing buckets of light, "as soon as you heal, you should stay away from me. You should stay away from Drifter and that army too, you won't be safe."

"Will you hurt me again if I go back?" Serena asked, surprised by a sudden surge of anger coursing through her.

Ash face twisted in to shock. "I did all this for you,"

"Stop it—stop!" Serena shook her head furiously and the world began spinning again. She took a minute to reorient, and then slapped him; "You can lie to yourself, but don't lie to me anymore. I don't deserve it from you."

Ash Ketchum looked dazed. His cheek began to throb and grow red, stinging from the impact. Without another word, he stood up and left for the door.

Once he was gone, Serena breathed out and began to shake. She tried eating her berries, but the trembling in her limbs caused them all to fall off her fork and on to the floor.

The Purehearted called the island Lumanto. It was hidden in the ocean between Unova and Kalos, uninhabited by anything or anyone except for a large army of Unovans and Alolans. Brock had never met an Alolan before, and he still couldn't say he entirely understood them. They tended to be too…calm.

Akoni Akela, the general for the Alolan branch, wore sandals for one thing. He was a large dark-skinned fellow, with long black hair tied in a bun. Akoni wore colorful button downs and a wide disarming grin. He greeted the fleeing army with more expectancy than surprise, immediately throwing them a huge feast to celebrate their escape. Brock was at a loss for words.

"You always have to roast a pig after retreating. How else are you going to feel better about yourself?" Akoni let out a booming laughter that echoed all around the Purehearted's new comrades. "Drifter, please stop looking like a bore, or we'll roast you too!"

More laughter.

Clemont and Kaleb twitched the corners of their mouth, unsure how to react. Brock could tell Drifter was more than aggravated. That was when it occurred to Brock that Serena was missing.

Brock stared at Drifter until he met the prophet's gaze. The mysterious man shook his head, knowing exactly what Brock was thinking, signaling that the conversation must wait until later.

"Come on, lads, we're going to get you all housed and drinking freaking honey beer you've ever had," Akoni Akela pulled Drifter in by the shoulder and led all the men into a giant, bamboo hall filled with rows of glossy, tropic tables gathered around a large fire pit that was always lit. The Alolans began to sing and dance while the weathered soldiers gathered themselves and their spirits. Akoni sat Drifter, Brock, and the others beside him at the head of the hall and first made sure their plates were brimmed with tropical fruits and meats before speaking to them about any critical matters.

"Where's Serena?" Brock whispered to Drifter, and the prophet looked back at him with a sobering gravity.

"Ey, ey, ey," Akoni riffed, wiping his chin with a napkin, "eat first, questions later."

Drifter turned back to his plate and began to eat. Brock did the same. It would have been harder to argue had they not been delirious with hunger. However, as soon as their food was wolfed down, Drifter looked at them with an unreadable expression, with a face that read like a stone.

"Ash took Serena,"

There was silence. Bonnie dropped her fork and it clattered loudly on to her plate. Kaleb grabbed her hand. Clemont looked to Brock, who was down in to the table, pale and perplexed. The gym leader looked white, gripping the edge of the table to stop his hands from quaking with rage. His mouth open and closed.

"I…I don't understand." he managed to say.

Drifter explained. He told them of their fight, of Ash's loss of control, and the blade that went in to Serena's body.

"My guess is that he took her to save her life," Drifter said, sipping his cup of ale.

"You let him take her!" Clemont accused, snapping.

Brock shook his head, motioning for the younger man to calm down. He turned to Drifter, with such a gravity that the prophet that the world would fall in to it.

"Is she going to live? Is Serena going to live?"

Drifter looked at them all, meeting each gaze for a moment. He ended at Brock.

"I don't know."

"Are you going to after her?" Bonnie asked, her face in tears, but she was trying to be strong.

Drifter furrowed his brows and shook his head. "We can't. We are needed here. We must trust that this happened for a reason and that—,"

"That is bullshit, I'm sorry, but we can't just stay here and 'hope' she's okay. We can't even know if Ash is trying to save her life! He's been trying to kill us all so far!" Clemont's passion had been kindled, and he was not going to rest easily.

"He's been trying to kill me, not you. I brought you all in to this. He hates that I've put you in danger, and that I fight for the Purehearted. It's been me, he's trying to kill. It's always been me." Drifter assured.

Akoni then shifted from beside the prophet. "You must all rest. You will not be able to think well without sleep. We will discuss our options tomorrow. There are always men to spare for the sake of a fallen or lost comrade."

And with that, the world went silent once again.

Pikachu scurried in to the forest. He heard the cabin door open, and went to hide in a bush nearby, knowing it was too soon to be seen. The small pokemon looked through the ferns, watching his old trainer come out in to the crisp air, breathing angrily. Pikachu waited and watched.

He had watched Ash save Serena. He had seen the whole battle between the prophet and the dark trainer. The yellow rodent had cried out when Serena ran up to stop the fighting, but no one heard through the roars of the pokemon up ahead. Pikachu watched Ash cry out too, and the fear the bled through his face, and the way he cradled her in his arms, bringing her with him. Without being seen or felt, Pikachu had jumped on to the Charizard's tail, gripping the scales with all his tiny might, and dashed in to the forest when the landed before anyone could see him.

Pikachu watched Serena's recovery, from the early moments—from when Ash moved with panic to undress and wrap Serena in bandages. He had his dark Kadabra use recover, placed herbs on her wound, rested her on the bed beside a window, from which Pikachu watched it all. At one point, the pokemon had been watching Serena during the night. Ash had come in to sit at her bedside. He stayed for every hour until morning.

Serena would stir and speak, but remained unconscious for days. Pikachu would cry against her windowsill, wanting to be in there too, but afraid of his old trainer. The pokemon simply watched and hoped with his little heart that Serena would live.

One night, Ash had knelt down beside her bed, slipping his hand in to hers, bring her palm to his lips. He then leaned his cheek down in to her touch, his tears falling on to her skin, and Serena stirred. With her other hand, she reached for Ash, but caught in a panic, he had moved away.

He had hidden himself in the shadows, and watched her from there.