BadgeQuest The Big Goodbye =Part 2= In Transit -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "To Miss Mason: In response to your message yesterday…" Ash tiptoed quietly down the aisle. Had he been thinking clearly, he would have saved his efforts; the clattering of the train's wheels against the steel bars of the track was more than enough to mask his approach. His concern, however, was overwhelming his common sense…which was woefully inadequate to begin with; between Misty's injuries and Dixie's sudden moodiness, he wasn't sure which direction to go in first. One of the objects of his worry sat several rows away in the relatively empty passenger car, her features illuminated in the dark seat by the holographic image of a brown-haired young man. Dixie's eyes were transfixed on his as he fidgeted nervously in the camera's field. "I…uh…" Ritchie continued nervously, rubbing the back of his head, "I don't know quite how to say this, but…Well, let me start from the beginning. About a year ago, I suffered from some kind of trauma. At least, I think I did. The doctors say that something happened to me, and…well, heck, they seem like nice people, and I can't really argue with them. Y'see, I…I lost my memory. I don't remember how I lost it, but…" he paused, smiling briefly. "Hey, that's kind of funny." His features immediately sobered as he remembered what it was he was doing. "Sorry. Anyway, the doctors helped me look into it, and apparently you and I knew each other from before. They seem to think that something that might be familiar would help the recovery process along, so…I'd like for us to get together, just like you said in your message." * * * "Any idea what they're listening to?" Jessie hissed, pushing her long red hair from her eyes. She leaned over the back of the next seat, straining to catch a glimpse of the hologram that floated in front of Dixie half a car away. Sitting next to her, James shook his head and leaned back. "Nothing." He sighed, letting his head rest against the back of his seat and closed his eyes. "This would be a lot easier if we hadn't lost our equipment back at the airport." The duffle bag sitting next to his feet shifted and began hissing. "It would'a been even betta if you hadn't lost all'a our money, either!" the bag chastised him. "Maybe den we would'a been able ta afford-" "Be quiet, Meowth!" Jessie hissed angrily, giving the bag a jab with her black boot. They were disguised in civilian clothing to avoid unwanted attention, but it wouldn't take much for Ash to recognize them, and a talking bag was bound to turn more than one head. "You know we aren't supposed to have pets in the passenger cars, so shut up before the conductor hears you!" "Pets!" Meowth cried indignantly, his voice thankfully muffled by the layer of cloth that held him captive. "Suddenly I'm a pet? Who's the brains of this outfit, any-YOW!" Another swift boot silenced him, and he grudgingly remained silent, plotting his revenge for whomever was foolish enough to unzip the bag. As Jessie returned to her surveillance, James piped in once more, his eyes still closed in thought. "You know, Jess, I've been thinking…" "A newsworthy event if I ever heard one," Jessie muttered. He seemed hurt at the dig. "I'm serious. I've just been wondering if you've noticed just how different life has gotten." She looked over at him, puzzled at the sudden, unexpected topic. "Like how?" "Well, just look." He sat up, gesturing to their two targets sitting in the front of the car. "For the past two years, we've been running helter-skelter around the globe chasing after that brat. We've been going to places whose name I can't even pronounce, helping people who should be locked up in mental wards to kill a sixteen year old and his dopey little friends…We've even fought against monsters!" "I'm assuming there's a point here, somewhere." Jessie intoned dully. "You ever remember when life was a little simpler?" James asked. To Jessie's surprise, his voice was thoughtful and clear, not its usual whining or idiotic rambling. "You know, when we would just run about the island, searching for trouble and trying to nab that Pikachu? When the only thing we had to worry about was being caught by Officer Jenny, or screwing up some piddly heist for the boss?" He sighed wistfully, resting his chin upon his palm. "I miss that." Jessie felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her as she remembered the good old days, filled with adventure, nonsense, and a healthy dose of "blasting off again"… "You're right, James," she agreed. Then she snorted, suddenly amused. "Huh. Never thought I'd say those three words in a row." James quickly changed the subject, not wanting to start another argument (which he would probably lose anyway). "So," he leaned forward again, watching the pair, "We're just supposed to keep an eye on them for now?" Jessie nodded. "At least until something comes up." "Let's hope nothing does. I've had enough excitement for a while, thank you very much." * * * "I'm going to be transferred to a man named Sam Oak…he's another person from my past, and I guess he was generous enough to offer his help with the whole recovery thing too. The Professor tells me that you and some other friends of mine are on the way back to the Island. I can't wait until-" Dixie pressed a button on Gear's panel, cutting the recording off. The floating hologram flickered and snapped out of existence as she sensed another person approaching. "Hi." She murmured dully, not turning around. Her eyes instead found their way to the window, flashing as the train passed intermittent lights on its journey to Kanto. "What's going on?" "Spotted Jessie and James sitting a few seats back," Ash chucked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the Rockets in disguise. "I don't think they'll be causing us any trouble on this trip, but we'd better keep an eye on them just in case." After a moment's hesitation, he sat down next to her. His hands fidgeted awkwardly in his lap, unsure of what to do as he tried to talk to her. "Um…you okay?" "That's a stupid question." Her voice was flat and cold, and she still refused to look at him. A couple of tears dripped from her cherubic cheeks, cluing Ash in to her mood. "How do you think I'm doing?" He groaned in frustration, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm just not sure why you're taking this out on-" "How could you not tell me any of this?" The question had come so suddenly that it froze Ash in mid-sentence. He slowly lowered his hand from his face, staring at her. She continued to look out of the window, but her hands were visibly shaking. "How could I not tell you any of what?" he demanded. "I didn't know you knew Ritchie! How could I have-" "You know what I mean." He sighed again, this time exasperatedly. "Well excuse me, but I didn't think there was a particularly good time to mention the fact that a three thousand year old story had singled me out as the defender of all reality. You think this is easy for me to deal with?" "We're supposed to be a team, Ash." Dixie informed him, her voice sharp and still frosty cold. "We work together. That's what a relationship is all about." There was a pause, as if she was considering something before she added, "I bet you would have told Misty right away." "Huh? Is that was this is about?" Ash couldn't believe it; all this was about a childish case of jealousy? "Look, the only reason Misty and Brock knew is because we were all standing knee-deep in the middle of the first demon! It isn't like I was trying to leave you out of the loop. And as for Misty-" "You've been awfully devoted to her lately…" Dixie's voice had returned to a hoarse whisper. Her hands, which had shook with anger, now laid askew on the seat with a sense of failure. "She was hit by a rockslide, I…Look," he jabbed his finger at her, suddenly feeling a spike of anger rising in him. "There is nothing going on like that between Misty and me! She's like my sister, that's all-" "Brock said you used to date." "Oh." Ash gulped. He had been hoping to hide that little fact from Dix this whole time, to avoid such conversations as these. Now it appeared he was reaping the rewards of his silence. "Look, that was a long time ago, and-" "And you've hardly left her side in the past three days." Ash had nothing to say to this. "Look, I just want to be alone for a little while, okay?" "Yeah. Okay." Ash cleared his throat, rising to the aisle. "I'll just go in the back and check on Brock and-" "Misty?" "…I was going to say Pikachu, but…" He sighed. "Never mind. I'll see you in a little while. He stalked back down the rows of seats, casting Team Rocket a knowing glance while they hid behind magazines. He moved from one car to the next, entering the private sleeper car that they had reserved. Inside was a pair of bunks built into the wall, one stacked on top of the other in an alcove fashion. A couch sat opposite the bed cubbies, currently occupied by a pair of slumbering familiars. Ash tossed Brock and Pikachu a bemused grin before turning to where Misty was supposedly lying down. "Hey," Misty greeted him, sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk. She had just finished lacing her second boot up, tugging at her striped tube sock. "You look pretty glum." "How are you feeling?" Ash asked, unconsciously putting his hands on his hips in a none-too-shabby imitation of his own mother. His tone, however, had nothing but concern; despite the doctors' best efforts, they had been unable to convince the fiery dynamo to stick around and finish her regeneration treatments. Little had they known that when Misty thought something more important was at stake (namely, the return of the Hidden Machines, as well as the Demon Ball, to Pallet Town), there was nothing, short of an Act of God, that could stop her. "Pretty annoyed that you keep asking me that." She snapped, standing up and meeting his reproving glare with one of her own. "I'm fine." "No, you're not." He jabbed a finger at the bandages still wrapped around her forehead, her legs, and the unseen tape that held her still-tender ribs together. "The doctors said you need rest, or the regeneration treatments won't hold like they're supposed to." "Thanks Mom, but I think I can take care of myself." Waving him off, she pushed him aside to leave the car. At the last second, her sharp eyes caught sight of his sour expression. "What's wrong with you?" "It's just…" he started, but one look at her deflated his repressed anger. She was covered in injuries that would never have happened if it weren't for him. Why should he dump any more of his problems on her? "Nothing." He parked himself in her former seat on the bed's edge, cupping his chin with his hands. "Looks like a lot of nothing, if you ask me." She closed the door and sat down next to him, throwing a comforting arm around his shoulder. It was uncanny, how a simple gesture from her could make him feel so much better. He allowed himself to lean into her embrace, drawing closer to her. Her hair, which was still black from their deception back in Snowfort, brushed gently against his face. It was oddly soothing, and tickled his nose. "C'mon, just because you're taller than me doesn't mean I'm not still smarter. Tell your big sister Misty all about it, huh?" "You aren't going to get over the fact that I'm taller than you now, are you?" he smiled at her. Even with the dark hair, with the bandages wrapped around her face, she was still the Misty he had always known. However, the recent differences in her appearance only served to remind him of just how much had happened to her in the past week alone, and that he was entirely responsible for it. "It only proves my theory that the universe is a cold, cruel, unfair realm of irony." Misty retorted, drawing him out of his inner revere. He snorted. "You can say that again." A questioning look from her prompted him to continue. "Misty, I'm just not sure about the last couple of days…So much has changed, and-" "You're not sure you can handle it?" "Yeah." He nodded glumly. "I mean, when we squared off against Missingno, none of us were sure if I was really the one to take on all of these- " "Creepy blasts from the past-" "And now that they're starting to come out of the woodwork again, I-" "Can't help but wonder when the next one will come along, or if you'll be ready." Misty finished. She shook her head, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Ash, this whole 'Chosen One' thing is weirder than anything we've ever faced before. Usually whenever we face something, we know why it's after us, or why it wants to destroy the world. But these things-" "Only want to destroy for the sake of destruction." He agreed, "I know, I know. It just doesn't make any sense. Where did they come from, and-" "Who created them?" She grunted. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk to someone about it. Maybe Professor Oak-" But Ash suddenly snorted, standing up and abandoning her embrace. "Talking? I've had enough talking about it!" he shot, folding his arms as he pouted. "Let me guess; Dixie." "Kinda." He admitted. "But this whole thing isn't fair!" "Life isn't fair, Ash." The words that every child had heard from every parent since the dawn of time; Life isn't fair. He had never accepted those words before, and he wasn't about to start then, either. "Maybe I'll just make it fair, then." Misty stopped for a moment, blinking slowly. The silence became so uncomfortable that Ash's anger transformed itself into nervous anticipation. "You always do this, you know. Even since we were kids…" "What are you talking about?" She folded her arms, leaning against the door in a forced-casual manner. Her face was sober and unreadable, but Ash could sense a deep concern welling up in her. "Whenever something happens that you don't think is right, you try and…and change it." He was thoroughly confused now. "Huh?" "Oh…Never mind!" she hissed. "I'm going to go get something to eat. And don't even say it!" she added as his mouth opened in protest. She was out the door before he could get a word in edgewise, slamming the door with such force that it left a ringing in his ears. "Jeez, she's upset about something." Ash jumped about a foot into the air as Brock's voice cut through the tone trapped in his ears. "I thought you were asleep!" Ash yelped. "Yeah, I do that a lot when you guys are fighting," Brock nodded, now fully alert. Misty's loud outburst had woken Pikachu as well, who lowered itself to the floor and began ambling towards Ash. "It's a little trick that's served me well through the years. 'Course," he added with an indiscernible wink, "I also did it when you guys used to neck by the campfire when you thought no one was around." Red crept furiously into Ash's cheeks at the jibe. "That was years ago, Brock. Give it a rest." "Doesn't seem so far off to me," Brock commented. He stretched, popping several of his vertebrae into more comfortable positions as he stood. "You two used to fight like this all the time before you finally admitted you liked each other." Ash sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose once again. It was a frustrated tic that was occurring a lot more often lately. "We're not children anymore, Brock. Those days are behind us." "She's right, you know." "Eh?" It was the last thing Ash had expected to come out of Brock's mouth. Rarely did either one of them find themselves agreeing with Misty, especially when she was being her obnoxious, vocal, stubborn self. "About what?" "You." Brock smirked, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "I never really noticed it, but I'm guessing she did. Smart girl. Or maybe she's just had a careful eye on you lately…" "What are you blathering on about?" Ash demanded. He was in no mood for riddles and games. Pikachu simply looked up at its trainer, then back over at the enigmatic Master of Rock, totally confused. It was a sentiment that Ash shared with his Pokémon at the moment. "Wherever you go, and whatever you do," Brock explained with a smile, "You can't help but try and leave it just a little better than you found it. If something doesn't rub you the right way, you 'change' it." He could hardly believe his ears. Was that what Brock thought of him? Was that what Misty thought? "You're saying that I-" "Look, it isn't a bad thing…all the time." Brock cautioned him with upturned palms. "But when the situation involves you, well…you really get pigheaded about it." "Bottom-line it, Brock." Brock sat once more, resting his hands upon his knees. "Look, Ash, in all seriousness; Destiny has chosen you for something important. This is fate of the world kind of stuff. I don't blame you for being afraid-" "I am NOT afraid!" Ash demanded childishly, thumping his chest. "We aren't afraid of anything, right Pikachu?" "Pika!" Pikachu intoned, standing on its hind legs and pumping its tiny fists. Brock continued as if Ash had never spoken, "But since this whole 'Goddess' thing came to a head at Mount Moon, you've been running from it. You ran to America, you ran back to your badges…you ran away, Ash." The young trainer's fists began shaking with fury, clenched at his sides. If it had been anyone but Brock to lecture him like this, he would have put those fists to use. "You have no idea what it's like, Brock." Ash spoke slowly, in a low, shaking voice. It was all he could do not to shout and holler at Brock with the full force of his righteous anger. "You've never gone toe-to- toe with anything like this. It isn't you, or Misty, or Dixie, or anyone else, is it? It's me!" "Ash-" "I'm always the one who deals with this!" Ash was on a roll. His vision began to blur with tears of anger, but he hadn't even noticed. His voice only grew steadily louder. "Mewtwo attacks, and it's me! Lawrence threatens an entire world, and it's me! Unown start crystallizing the planet, and it's me! Team Rocket tries and takes over…AND. IT'S. ME!" Brock stood and grabbed Ash by the shoulders, meeting him eye to eye. "Ash, calm down!" "I can't take much more of this, Brock…" Ash growled quietly. Memories began flooding through Ash's head, memories of Ritchie, of Misty, of his friends and loved ones and all the times they had fallen trying to protect him, trying to help 'him'. He pushed away from Brock's arms, taking several stumbling steps back. "All of this, it's…It's just too much." "Hey, come on…" Brock advanced forward, speaking as gently as he could. As the mother and father of a gaggle of younger siblings, he had dealt with a lot less. Still, he hadn't been expecting such an outburst of emotion from Ash. The young man…still a boy, Brock reminded himself…always seemed so strong and confident, so slow to anger. "Come on, knock it off," Brock said gently, reaching out to grasp Ash's shoulder. "Take a breather or something, okay? I mean, how would the girls take it if they saw you lose your cool?" Pikachu piped in its agreement, looking up from Ash's ankles. Ash sighed, laughing. The thought of the girls, along with his outburst, had helped to spend some of his unfocused anger. "Sometimes I think those girls are a lot tougher than me…" He walked towards the exit with Pikachu at his heel, but stopped at the door. "Thanks, Brock. You know, I'm really lucky to have you and Misty…" "Don't forget about Dixie." Brock smiled. That drew another small laugh from Ash. "God, yes. She's been handling it so well. I'll tell you, Brock, Misty is some girl." The slip nearly got past Brock. He blinked once, tilting his head. "What'd you say?" "I said that Dixie is some girl." Ash shook his head, smiling as he opened the door. "Jeez, Brock, get some sleep. Your hearing is going on you." "Huh…" Brock mused thoughtfully to the empty room after Ash had gone. "Guess so…" * * * "I need an IV drip stat!" The medical team rushed down the hall, a sterile blur of white and blue scrubs as they pushed through door after door of the Pallet Town emergency medical center. The gurney they pushed slammed its way through the well-oiled barriers, jostling its patient with each impact. A young med-tech held the patient's wrist, looking at his watch and dictating notes to another tech as they streaked past doctors, patients, and equipment. "Subject is female," the tech muttered as his compatriot copied it down onto a clipboard, "between the ages of fifteen and nineteen…minor lacerations to the epidermis…possible concussion. Pupils?" A third tech had just finished flashing a light in her impassive eyes. "Minimal response," he replied, letting her eyelid snap shut. "Any ID?" "Carrying a wallet containing identification." The clipboard tech said, already attaching the ID to her board. "Giselle Narcissa, born in Vermillion. Seventeen years old. We're trying to contact her parents, but nothing yet." "Trainer?" "Yep." The first tech snorted with disgust. "Why do they let these kids tromp around the blasted island so young?" he groused to no one in particular. "Get her Pokémon to the nearest Center, send an intern." "We're out of interns…" "-Then send the janitor!" the first tech snapped, "I can't have doctors and nurses running about when we have patients who-" "Oak…" "Hold!" the first tech snapped. The gurney came to a screeching halt so quickly that it left black marks halfway down the hall. "Did you two hear that?" His two partners nodded. He looked at the clipboard tech pointedly, tapping his watch. "Subject shows signs of regaining consciousness, ten-oh-two pm-" "Oak." Giselle muttered again, this time clearer and more insistent. "Giselle?" The first tech leaned down, his handsome features coming in to focus for the diva for the first time. "Giselle, I need you to lie down for me. We're going to make sure you're okay, so just-" Her body shot upward, sitting up so fast that their skulls cracked together. He had just enough time to swear before her hands wrapped around his scrubs, clinging so tightly her knuckles were white. She pulled their faces together, so that he could feel her hot, panicked breath rolling off of his face as he stared into her wild, sparking eyes. "The Oak Institute for Pokémon Research and Development!" she screamed. Then, as quickly as her consciousness had returned, it vanished. She toppled back onto the gurney, her grip on the tech growing limp. The tech was visibly shaken. "Get her into a unit. And someone call Professor Oak. NOW!" =To Be Continued=