BadgeQuest The Big Goodbye =Part 3= Family -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The key that he had used so little in the past two years turned just as easily in the lock as it had the day he had received it, releasing the deadbolt and giving them access to the dark, cozy cottage home on Pallet Lane. Though it was still summer, and only nine o'clock, the dark clouds of the unseasonably long monsoon cast Ash's home town in deep shadows as he led his friends into his home. Pikachu took point, scouting ahead with its nose raised, taking in the scents of the house. Four teenagers followed the Pokémon, soaked to the bone and glad to be out of the rain. With tentative steps, Ash tiptoed across the creaking floorboards, shushing Dixie as she followed before she ever had the chance to make a sound. "Be as quiet as you can," he hissed. "Why?" she returned in the same level of voice, "Is your mom a light sleeper?" "No, she's probably upstairs reading." Ash shook his head, glancing around the shadows. The danger was out there, he knew it. But where…where was it hiding? Though his eyes were sharp, and his senses attuned, he could detect nothing save for the creaking of the floorboards as the house settled in against the raging monsoon outside. "But I don't want-" "MIME!" "Crap!" was all that Ash had the chance to exclaim before a blur of white and red came speeding down the banister and tackled him into the wall. His face shifted through several shades of blue as Mr. Mime wrapped him in a bone- breaking hug that made his ribcage creak and strain. "Mime, mister mis miiiiime!" Mimey shrieked with glee at their homecoming. Dixie was taken aback at first, but then squealed and began cooing and praising the Mr. Mime. She had never seen one before, what with the species being quite rare off-Island. "Somebody missed you," Misty snickered, elbowing Brock as they enjoyed the laugh at Ash's expense. Their laughter quickly turned to joy as they saw a pair of long, slender legs, clad in pajama pants knotted at the waist, descending the stairs. "Mrs. Ketchum!" "Ash, Misty, Brock!" Mrs. Ketchum threw out her arms and snagged Ash's oldest friends in a hug of her own, which they gladly returned. After shooing away Mr. Mime, she managed to catch her son in one as well, receiving a kiss on the cheek in return. "How was your…" she stopped, catching sight of a shy young blonde standing off to the side. "Oh my goodness…" her hand flew to her mouth, "Is this Dixie?" "It's a…a pleasure to meet y'all, ma'am." Dixie clasped her hands behind her back, staring down at the ground. Mrs. Ketchum's features sobered as she walked over, catching Dixie's chin with her finger and bringing her features to light. After a moment's examination, she shook her head. "Oh no, no, no, Ash…I'm afraid you were all wrong about her." Dixie's eyes went wide with horror, until the elder Ketchum added, "She's even more beautiful than you said she was!" Ash gave silent thanks to his mother as Delia gave Dixie a tremendous hug, laughing and giggling and telling her how wonderful it was to finally meet the girl that Ash had told her so much about. He knew he wasn't completely off the hook that easily, but his mother always knew how to ease the tension, no matter how bad the situation was. In retrospect, that was probably why he had chosen to come here first, rather than visit Professor Oak with their 'unique' cargo. Of course, the thunderous rainstorms weren't a bad reason, either. "Misty, dear," Delia suddenly turned, placing a hand to her mouth. "What on earth have you done to your hair?" * * * Ash sat alone, perched on the sofa in the downstairs living room in complete silence. Were it not for the dancing light of the television, he could have been mistaken for a statue. Light and shadow danced across his stony features as a newscaster softly broadcasted Island occurrences from his safe, warm studio far away in the heart of Viridian City. There had been little to capture Ash's interest, but for some reason, he hadn't felt like going to bed. His mother, Brock, Misty and Dixie had all gone to bed nearly an hour earlier. His face had lit like a candle when Dixie had kissed him goodnight, finally lifting the veil on her icy curtain. Now, though, it was once again stoic, almost angered. "And in Pallet Town," the news announcer continued, unaware of Ash's lack of interest, "Yet another victim has fallen to the strange attacks that have been occurring both in and around the tiny hamlet." He rattled his papers, glancing down at a few figures before slicking back his greasy hair. "The girl, found by a mountain rescue team near the Pallet Cliffs just south of the town, appeared to be in a, quote, 'coma-like state'. Like the others, however, she recovered quickly, and was released only twelve hours after the occurrence. And now, to Donny with sports. We have an upset in the Major Leagues with the Viridian Victreebells, don't we Donny?" Ash would never know Donny's opinion on the baseball team's current losing streak. His attention was focused completely on a small obsidian sphere resting on the antique coffee table Mrs. Ketchum had stylishly selected to sit in front of the couch. The relic (the sphere, not the coffee table) sat motionless, reflecting the television's unreliable light off of its sleek, smooth surface. Considering its age, the ball had weathered the tempest of time rather well. His eyes were locked in on the ball, having been that way for hours. It was almost mesmerizing, the way the ball gleamed no matter what light it was in…almost as though it had a light of its own, something that couldn't be understood or explained, but instead perceived on a level that humanity had lost touch with in the countless ages long past. That perception tickled the darker recesses of Ash's senses, telling him of what lurked within the ball. He could feel the danger lying just below its surface. And yet… Despite knowing just what was trapped inside the Demon Ball, he couldn't help but be drawn to it. Something about it made him long to touch it, to give himself to its unspoken promises. 'Come to me,' the container whispered to him and him alone, 'Complete me…and I will offer you so much. I will offer you the wor-" "Ash?" Misty's voice cut through the haze around his mind, snapping Ash back to reality with such force that he was forced to jump back from the ball, gasping and nearly tipping the couch over in the process. Misty descended the stairs, careful to soften her steps so as not to awaken the rest of the household. Her hair, short and unnaturally darkened, was cascaded into her aqua eyes, which glistened in the pale light. She wore an old, tattered shirt she had stolen from Brock to enlist as sleepwear. The hem of the old football jersey hung at mid-thigh, revealing long, bare, ivory legs beneath that carried her down the staircase. "Ash," she said again, this time more quietly and with a greater sense of concern, "Are you-" "I'm fine," he said quickly, brushing aside her hand and collecting himself. "Just fine." He looked up at her, and watched her eyes drift down onto the Demon Ball on the table. Her eyes held the same wistfulness that Ash's had just moments ago as she beheld the sphere. Her fingers tentatively curled as she brought it near the mysterious container, hesitating before she could come into contact. "What were you-" Ash's hand darted out, capturing the ball before anything could happen. "Don't touch it!" he snapped angrier than he meant to. The instant he touched the Demon Ball, the world began to spin. He suddenly felt something pulling at him without ever being aware of anyone touching him. It felt more as though something was pulling at him from the inside. He suddenly felt cold and dizzy. Something impacted hard against his cheek, and a familiar voice cried his name from a great distance. It took him a moment to realize that he had fallen down in his own living room; everything was spinning so fast…if it would just stop for a mo- GIVE IT TO ME… "Give…what…?" Ash heard his voice murmur, feeling the pull growing stronger, and yet resisting somehow. GIVE YOURSELF TO ME! "No." Ash whispered. It wasn't right. The Ball was wrong and he shouldn't give himself over to it whatever that meant because the ball was evil but it was the only thing holding the monster back which made it good but it was tryingtogethimto- "Ash!" The voice came from a distance again, attached to a sense of great urgency. He felt a new well of energy pour into him, coming from a place deep inside of him, and yet 'not' inside of him. The power felt warm and safe, familiar and strong, and he knew without a doubt that it loved him, and that he could trust it. With the new power at his metaphorical fingertips, he pushed the cold away. Yet even now, he could feel his real fingertips returning as the room's spinning began to lessen. Something was in his hand…the source! It was the source of the cold! With a Herculean effort, Ash managed to shove the Demon Ball into his pocket. The cold and dizziness ceased almost immediately, and he slumped against the cool wood of the table in relief. The new power he had felt was already subsiding, but a tiny tingle remained, as if it were waiting for the time when he would need it again. As before, it felt warm, familiar, but even stranger, he could feel concern and fear welling up inside of it. "Ash!" Misty cried again, grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him back onto the couch. She wiped the cold sweat from his brow even as his senses came back to him. She resisted the urge to wake the entire household in a panic. "What happened?" she demanded, propping him up until his strength returned completely. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine." He insisted for the second time that night. This time, his heaving gasps and shaking eyes made him much less convincing than before. "Really." "You're a lousy liar, Ash Ketchum." She informed him. Her glance down at his pocket told him that she knew more than he wanted her to know, but he was grateful that she didn't pry further. "C'mon, let's go into the kitchen. I feel a midnight munching session coming on." She offered her hand to help him up, but naturally, he bull headedly refused, and together they staggered into the kitchen. However, the act of ego made Misty feel a bit better; if Ash was too stubborn to accept help he needed, then he was probably feeling better already. * * * "What's the matter?" Ash sank into a chair at the table, still nauseous but recovering by the minute. "Couldn't sleep?" She shook her head, moving to the cupboard and pulling out some dinnerware, as well as some elements of a midnight snack. "It's weird," she commented, digging through Delia's familiar array of food, "I usually only have trouble sleeping when something bad's happening." "Or about to happen." Ash added, resting his head against the table. The cold surface felt good against his face. Misty smiled, tossing the peanut butter onto the counter and opening the refrigerator. "Yeah, that too." She suddenly sobered, but did her best to hide her features as she made their snack. "You don't think anything bad is coming our way, do you?" He sighed, propping himself up. He watched Misty as she moved about, and for the first time in a long time, he looked at her…really 'looked' at her. The pale ivory of her skin came alive in the pale moonlight filtering through windows. Her eyes, whenever they flashed impishly back at him, seemed to be a doorway into her soul. It felt as though Ash could see everything within her, and, though they had spent what seemed a lifetime together, he felt as though he was just starting to scratch the surface of her spirit. "Seriously," he tried to keep his eyes off of her, fearing that his stares might be caught and misinterpreted (though he had forgotten what long, slender, graceful legs she had…), "When is something bad 'not' coming our way?" Her response was to toss a sandwich in front of him, taking a seat next to him with an identical item in hand. "True enough," she sighed, taking a big bite and chewing thoughtfully. Ash frowned, sniffing at the familiar, alluring aroma. Curious, he lifted the corner of his bread, blinking in shock. "Misty," he muttered with confusion, "This is peanut butter and banana…" "Yeah?" she took another bite of her own bizarre concoction, tilting her head. "So?" He picked the sandwich up and took a delicate bite. It was just the way he would have made it. "I thought you hated peanut butter and banana sandwiches…" She stopped eating, looking down at her sandwich. "Huh. I guess I do. I just…I had this weird craving." She took another hesitant bite, but seemed to enjoy it less now that Ash had commented on her choice. "Usually, I leave this crap to you…" Ash, in the meantime, was totally lost in thought. Misty's odd craving for his favorite snack made him recall the ominous words of the Goddess just a few days ago; "Like all decisions, this too will have consequences. You may feel differently afterwards." Did she mean that he would regret his decision to save Misty (which he certainly did not), or that both of them would change because of it? He wasn't sure what the mechanics behind sharing part of his "life-essence" were…he didn't feel any differently. Then again, maybe he wouldn't know if he was. Either way, he was sure that Misty deserved to know. "Misty..." Ash muttered, setting his food down, "Misty, I…" A loud, sudden bang erupted from upstairs, cutting off Ash's confession. The two teens looked up at the ceiling, which was raining dust from the impact. Exchanging a silent glance, they got up and began trekking up the stairs, moving as quietly as possible. * * * They could both hear skittering and a soft voice coming from above, so Ash led the way to the attic's trap door. He was startled to find that it was already open, and the ladder was pulled down to the floor. "Stick close." Ash muttered, starting up the ladder. Misty smirked, following. "Don't I always?" The attic was as dusty, dingy and dark as he remembered. There were boxes stacked as high as the ceiling on either side. If his mother was to be trusted, then there were boxes dating back three or four generations on either side of his family. Apparently, it was a Ketchum tradition to collect as much junk as you can, and try to contain it in cardboard. What concerned him at the moment, though, was at the other end of the attic, hidden behind a stack of poorly-labeled antiques. Motioning for Misty to remain silent, he crept forward on tiptoe, sliding along the boxes until he was just about to round the corner. "Ah…hah?" he cried, peering around with Pokéball in hand, and was almost disappointed to find that it was only Pikachu. The tiny mouse was struggling to pull its tail free, which was caught under an old black trunk. "Pikachu?" "Pi…" Pikachu whined, pulling uselessly at its lightning-bolt tail. It was wedged firmly, and painfully, underneath the hard metal trunk. Taking pity on his partner, Ash stepped forward and released Pikachu with a smile. The mouse scampered forward, grateful to be free, as Ash began examining the trunk. "Pikachu, you scared us to death!" Misty scolded the Pokémon, scooping it up into her arms. Pikachu snuggled in close, instantly earning Misty's forgiveness for the noise. She cradled Pikachu in a hug as Ash began tugging at the edges of the trunk. "What are you doing?" His fingers dug into the edge of the container, trying to pry it open. "What's it look like?" he grunted, pulling with all his might to no avail. "A little help, maybe?" Misty set Pikachu on top of a box of photo albums, then leaned in to examine the problem. With a small smirk, she reached out and flipped the latch of the trunk open. The response was immediate; the cover of the trunk, already under great strain from Ash's efforts, flew open and struck him square in the face. "How's that?" she asked the champion trainer, who was flat on his buttocks. He grunted, hauling himself forward to peer into the mysterious trunk. Inside was a mix of papers, books, pictures, and random items too numerous to mention. Reaching in, Ash pulled out a beat-up old baseball, whose stitches had begun to fray with time. The cool leather tingled against his skin, sending a charge up his arm. Cocking an eyebrow, he set it aside for the moment and continued to dig through the box. Misty watched in silence as he pulled out a photo album, opening the dingy cover. Finally, she couldn't take the quiet anymore. Leaning over his shoulder to get a better look, she asked, "What is all this?" He wiped the dust away, squinting at the pictures in the dim light. "Not sure," he muttered. The first page of the album looked like a set of wedding photos. He recognized the happy couple almost instantly; the blushing bride was none other than his mother, looking her best in virginal white. She was by no means an unattractive woman, but even Ash couldn't help but admit that she was really something to look at nearly two decades before. She was flanked by a trio of young gentlemen, all dressed in identical tuxedoes. The two on the outside seemed vaguely familiar, but they weren't the ones Ash was focusing on. Instead, his eyes were glued to the groom, to- "Your father…" Ash, Misty and Pikachu jumped three feet in the air at Delia's quiet voice. Turning around, Ash was about to curse his mother for sneaking up on them like that, but stopped cold at the look of pure dejection on her face. Her eyes were deep pools, reflecting a sadness that Ash hadn't seen in ages, yet had always shared. "Mom?" Delia cleared her throat, tugging the robe tighter around her frame. "Seth…Your father." She said again, forcing herself to keep an even tone. "Those are our wedding pictures." "Then…" Ash looked back at the trunk, filled with treasures from the past that he had never known. "Then, all of this stuff was-" "It's yours." At Ash's wide eyes, she said, "It belonged to your father. Now, I guess it belongs to you." There were tears that threatened to spill out onto her cheeks, but she held them in check somehow. With trembling hands, she took the album from Ash's hands, holding it close to her as if it were a child. "It was the happiest day of my life…" "Pi?" Pikachu tugged at the hem of her robe. She reached down and lifted the mouse up onto her shoulder, something that was totally unprecedented. Ash's mother had always treated his Pokémon with kindness, but had maintained a safe emotional distance from them. Since her husband's disappearance at the start of a Journey,, she had always shown an unhealthy mistrust of the creatures. It had been such a shock to Ash that she had accepted the rogue Mr. Mime into her home. Pikachu, however, adjusted comfortably to the situation, sensing Delia's vulnerability almost preternaturally, and cuddling up to her by instinct. "I'm sorry," she sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I just…I hadn't expected to see him tonight, that's all." Ash nodded, understanding. "The anniversary's coming up soon." He stated, moving in close to his mother's arm so he could see the photos with her as she paged through the book. Misty shifted uncomfortably, backing away from the emotional pair. "I…I should go," she stammered with blushing cheeks. "This seems like a family moment." "I wish you wouldn't." As she edged away, Delia's hauntingly sad voice stopped her cold. Misty froze, unsure of what to do, or where to look. She was grateful when Delia strode over to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Misty, I…I hope you don't feel uncomfortable around us." "No! I mean, that's not it…" Misty insisted quickly, frantically waving her hands. "I just didn't want to intrude, that's all." Delia said nothing at this. She chose a short, sturdy box to sit upon, and silently motioned for the two teens to join her. As they sat, she began pointing out different pictures. There were more of the same people in the pictures; Delia, Seth, and their escorts from the first photo. One was tall and brawny, and reminded Ash a bit of Brock, but with shorter hair and even more muscle. The other had a long blonde ponytail and glittering blue eyes. "Mom," Ash could no longer contain his curiosity. "Who are these guys?" Delia seemed surprised. "You don't recognize this handsome devil?" she asked, pointing to the brown, spike-haired hulk stuffed into a tuxedo. "This is Brock's father, Flint." "You're kidding!" Misty laughed, tapping the photo. "Small world, huh?" She frowned, glancing down at the other. Without looking, she knew that Ash shared her sense of familiarity with that figure as well. "What about him?" she asked, pointing to the blonde. "Oh." Delia's voice resumed its dour tone, crestfallen with the weight of old memories come to haunt her. "That's your father's half-brother…your uncle, I suppose." Nothing could have floored Ash more. He swallowed hard, shivering at what he knew would come next. "My…my uncle. Why didn't you guys ever-" "He…died before you were born." Delia seemed to struggle for a response. "It wasn't long after the wedding, actually. Your father and I thought it would be…easier for you if you never knew." "Oh…" he stared down at the picture, unsure of how he was supposed to feel at the moment. He was sure of only one thing; something inside his gut told him that he had met that man before… =To Be Continued= A mysterious, familiar stranger from Ash's past? Wow! Tune in next time for another exciting episode of Pokémon: BadgeQuest!