BadgeQuest

The Big Goodbye

=Part 4=

Dueling Reunions

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        Brock sat on the Ketchum's couch, delicately sipping a cup of Mount Moon 
blended coffee as a vapid, mindless morning news show droned on. His feet were 
propped up on the coffee table, and a plain, white towel was perched patiently 
on his shoulder, seemingly with no reason. His ears perked up at the mention of 
another series of strange attacks in the Pallet area, but that was only for a 
moment. Mostly, he was engrossed in his younger friend's find from last night.

        The album was opened across his lap as he turned its pages, careful not 
to spill anything on the precious book. Ash had said little about the album 
before he and Dixie had taken off for Oak's lab; only that it was his father's, 
and that Brock's father, Flint, was among its pages as well. True enough, Flint 
was smiling back at Brock, decked out in a full tuxedo. With a quick mental 
assessment, Brock figured that the picture had been taken well before he had 
ever left his family on his mysterious journey.

        It was no wonder Ash had been so excited about the find. There, in the 
pages of the album, was a world that Ash had never seen before, at least not to 
Brock's own limited knowledge of his friend's past. His father's life was 
immortalized in grainy color; his and Delia's marriage…past that, a photo of the 
happy couple, along with Flint and the mysterious blonde man, taken somewhere in 
Viridian Forest. Brock couldn't blame Ash for pouring over the book the entire 
night. As a matter of fact, Dixie's gentle insistences had been the only thing 
pulling him away from the pictures.

        The front door swung open and closed, sealing itself from the perpetual, 
torrential rain that pounded the landscape without mercy. He heard a pair of 
hasty footsteps cross the hardwood floor, squeaking with filthy water and mud 
that would have made Mr. Mime explode in a frenzy, if the lazy Pokémon had 
bothered to wake up before noon.

        "Ahh," Misty sniffed, stepping in between Brock and the television. 
Brock's eyebrows quirked up for a moment, the only sign that his narrow eyes 
even flickered in her direction, before returning to his album. "There's nothing 
like a little early-morning training to clear out the cobwebs. You should really 
try it sometime, Brock."

        "Maybe when it's sunny outside." He glanced up again, getting a better 
look. Misty was soaked from head to toe in freezing cold rainwater. Her hooded 
blue sweatshirt clung to her like a second skin, as did her soggy blue jeans. 
Socks sagging under the weight of water, she shook her hair free of its 
makeshift ponytail, creating a steady drip, drip, drip of water down her back 
that fell to a puddle on the floor. He shifted his shoulder, grabbing the towel 
with his free hand. "Need this?"

        She snorted, waving him off. "You have to be kidding! These conditions 
are best for training Water types; with all the moisture in the air, and on the 
ground, it's when my Pokémon are at their most powerful!"

        "So…do you want the towel, or not?"

        "God yes." She snatched the towel, burying her face in the warm, cotton 
folds. "Thanks." She wiped herself down as best as she could and used the rest 
of the towel to soak up her mess. She peeled away the hooded sweatshirt, 
revealing a black T underneath. "That's the album," she remarked, bending over 
to have a better look.

        "Borrowing Ash's clothes as well as his room, huh?" Brock smirked at the 
black shirt.

        He was rewarded with a blush as Misty tapped the plastic-protected 
pages. "Don't change the subject…" her eyes grew clouded for a moment, as if 
thinking of the past. "What do you make of all of this?"

        He frowned, rubbing his stubbly jaw line. "Dunno…I guess I was around 
when all this happened. Guess I would have been about five or so. But I don't 
remember ever meeting Ash's mom or dad."

        Misty nodded with a sigh. "I guess. I don't remember much about when I 
was that age, either." She pointed to the photo of the quartet standing in the 
forest. Seth's arms were wrapped around his darling wife's, with Flint and the 
stranger standing to either side. Her finger rested on the blonde as her lips 
thinned. "What do you think about him?"

        "I'm not sure…" Brock admitted. "Ash said something about an uncle…Kind 
of hard to believe that you could go through life without knowing about 
something like that. It's got to be pretty mind-blowing."

        "What do you mean?" Misty smirked. "Personally, I wouldn't mind the 
reverse happening…I could stand to lose a sister or two."

        "You don't mean that."

        "You haven't seen them when their cycles hit."

        "Ouch." Still, Brock's voice remained somber as he added, "But Ash has 
never had any real kind of family beyond his mom and dad. Both his grandparents 
died before he was born, and then his dad…"

        Misty grew silent, no longer making light of the revelation. "Family 
must be pretty important to someone who never had one…"

        A new question dawned in Brock's spiked head. "Why would his mom keep 
something like this from him?"

        "Maybe she had a good reason." Misty countered after a moment's thought. 
"She would never do anything do hurt him. I mean, there's got to be a reason."

        "It's only fair, I suppose," Brock looked up at her with a wry grin. "I 
mean, when you consider everything we're keeping from her, this uncle thing 
seems pretty tame."

        "And what, pray tell, are you two keeping from me?"

        Delia Ketchum stood on the stairway, leaning over the banister as she 
looked down at the younger adults. She wore a simple robe over her nightgown, 
smiling serenely at them as they hemmed and hawed.

        "Uh…Uh…"

        Misty was completely useless, but Brock managed a feeble recovery. "We 
were just thinking of…my secret recipe!"

        Very feeble.

        "Recipe?" she descended the stairs on graceful legs. "You mean your No-
Chew Stew?"

        "Yeah, that's it!" He laughed nervously, exchanging glances with Misty. 
Her angry eyes questioned his sanity, and he knew it. "My stew."

        "Oh Brock…" Delia sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Do you really 
think I'm so stupid?" He cringed at her words, but she pushed on. "Of course I 
know what's happening to Ash. I've always known."

        "You have?" Brock felt his mouth dry out in a heartbeat, becoming 
cottony as his tongue swelled up and flopped uselessly about. "…Oh."

        Delia sighed, brushing the hair from her eyes as she gazed out the 
perpetual tempest droning on outside. "Ash isn't the only Ketchum who talks to 
Professor Oak, you know. Besides…Do you really think that I couldn't sense it? 
The new scars, the stammer in his voice when he tells those stories, the look in 
his eye when you three lie right to my face…" Her shoulders sagged. "I can sense 
when my little boy's in danger."

        "M-Mrs. Ketchum…" Misty stammered.

        Turning back at the girl's voice, Delia managed a small, pathetic smile. 
"I hate it when you two call me that. It makes me sound old, and it's so 
impersonal…" She sat down next to Brock and took the album from him without 
protest. Try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to look either one of them 
in the eye, and the photos of her past were an easy escape from facing them 
both.

        "Misses…Delia," Brock caught himself. Her gaze lifted as he spoke her 
name, and he was almost moved to tears; the sadness in her eyes was enough to 
make him feel three inches tall. "I…I'm sorry."

        "Don't be. I can understand how you wouldn't want me to worry. Please…" 
Delia's voice hiccupped as the tears she had fought so hard began to spill out. 
"I…Don't tell Ash any of this, but…whenever he leaves…whenever you all leave…I 
have such horrible nightmares." Her cheeks grew wet as she watched their faces 
fall. "It's almost like I can see you all being hurt…Knowing what you'll face 
out there."

        Misty moved to the other side of Ash's mother, placing the woman's hand 
in her own. Brock did the same, giving the older woman a comforting squeeze. 
"Nothing bad's happened to any of us." Misty said, trying to reassure her. 
"We're all okay."

        "For how long?" Delia demanded softly. "How many times will it take 
before Team Rocket is successful? Before these monstrosities get the better of 
you? Before someone or something comes along, and suddenly…" She trailed off, 
letting the thought complete itself. "I lost Sa…Seth to this world. His 
world…Ash's world, now." Her face buried itself in her palms, dripping with her 
hidden tears. "I just know that-"

        "It won't come to that." Misty told her, putting an arm on her shoulder. 
"I…'We' won't let anything happen to him, just like he would never let anything 
happen to us."

        "Don't tell Ash…" Delia sobbed pleadingly. "Don't tell Ash…"

        "We won't." Brock promised her. Misty exchanged incredulous glances with 
him, but his iron gaze told her that he was serious. "We promise."

* * *

        The walk to Professor Oak's laboratory was one of the soggiest Ash could 
remember. The rain had been pouring for weeks in Kanto, and showed no signs of 
stopping any time soon. He and Dixie were donned in a pair of old ponchos, 
something his mother always squirreled away for the monsoon season. Ash's poncho 
bulged at the stomach, giving him a ridiculous and uncomfortable girth to keep 
balanced on the slippery mud.

        Dixie's hand was firmly grasped in his as they strolled down the dirt 
lane lined with old, wizen trees. He gave it an experimental squeeze, and felt 
relieved when she returned the gesture. He wasn't sure if it was because she 
felt overwhelmed and scared by her new surroundings, or because she was actually 
beginning to forgive him, and he didn't really care. The damage had to be fixed 
somehow, and it was a decent start.

        "Is that it?" Dixie drawled, pointing to the towering windmill set atop 
Oak's lab. The building was a reverse image of itself, bland and grey where it 
was usually colorful and cheery. "It's so…big."

        He smiled, running up the steps. "That's not the half of it. Watch 
this." Dixie quirked her head curiously as he led her up the front walkway, 
taking refuge under the roof above. She opened her mouth to question his bemused 
features, but he shushed her and reached to knock on the door. 

        Just as his knuckles descended on the cracked red paint, the door 
whipped open, revealing a warm, wrinkled man in his mid-sixties. He wore a white 
lab coat, which was fraying at the end and looked nearly as old as he did. His 
features were soft and round as he smiled at the pair. "Come in, come in! You'll 
catch your death of cold if you stay out there." He insisted, shooing them in 
before either could say a word. Dixie gaped in amazement at Ash, who merely 
smiled smugly at the Professor's predictability.

        The bulge at Ash's stomach wiggled, producing a tiny claw at the bottom 
hem of the garment. Pikachu ripped the poncho upward, heaving a breath of fresh 
air and wishing for all the world that Ash used stronger deodorant. "Pii…" it 
sighed, dropping to the ground in relief as Professor Oak took the rain-soaked 
ponchos.

        "Such terrible storms lately," he commented, clucking his tongue as he 
closed the coat closet. His piercing eyes came to rest on Dixie, brightening at 
the sight of the beautiful blonde. "Ah, you must be the illustrious Miss Dixon 
Mason!"

        "Please… just Dixie," she blushed heavily, putting a hand to her cheek.

        "I knew your grandfather quite well, young lady," Oak told her solemnly. 
A hint of sorrow crept into his wizen features at the thought of his departed 
colleague. "He was a brilliant researcher, and a good friend. I am deeply-"

        "Here," she cut him off, not wanting to deal with the thought of her 
grandfather, no matter how sweet the sentiment was. Ash winced internally; 
though it had been nearly a year, the loss of Doctor Mason still haunted Dixie 
quite a bit. The two men watched in silence as she reached into her backpack, 
producing a small black box. Holding it up for the Professor to see, she 
revealed its contents to the bushy-eyed scientist.

        "My word…" Oak muttered, pulling out one of the tiny metal-and-plastic 
chips and turning it over in his hand. "Tiny things, aren't they?"

        "Believe me, Professor," Ash muttered, "They pack quite the wallop." He 
glanced down at Pikachu, who gave him a knowing smile. "It took a lot getting 
them here, too…"

        "Yes, Gary has already told me the story."

        Ash swallowed, suddenly feeling like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. 
"Uh…"

        "Quite the story, too." A new voice emerged from the darkened hallway, 
one that Ash and Dixie recognized immediately. There, amidst the shadows, stood 
a young figure carrying a manila folder tucked beneath his armpit. He wore a 
simple green T-Shirt and faded denim jeans, with a heavy teal cap tilted at an 
odd angle atop his messy brown locks. "I especially liked the part about the 
energy shield. I looked into it, and I found some precedent on non-psychic human 
beings in situations like that one manifesting-"

        "RICKY!" Dixie shrieked, rushing forward. She nearly took the boy apart 
as she slammed him into a vicious hug. "Oh my god," she sobbed joyfully, tears 
streaming from her eyes, "I'm so glad to see you! I was so worried, and-"

        "I, uh…" Richie scratched his head, ignoring the file Dixie's tackle had 
knocked onto the floor. As opposed to Dixie's unbridled elation, his features 
were confused, even frightened. He looked to Professor Oak, his face questioning 
and pleading. "Professor…" he asked, his voice shaking like a leaf.

        "It's quite all right, Richard." Oak assured him, gently prying Dixie 
away from him. "Dixon," he reminded her, "I'm afraid that Richard doesn't 
remember…remember?"

        It was clear that she hadn't. She backed away slowly, muttering an 
apology. Her eyes were glued to the floor, tears still present. Richie seemed 
embarrassed as well. He placed a hand on her shoulder, leaning over to meet her 
gaze. "Hey," he offered his hand to her, shaking gently. "It's nice to meet 
you."

        "L-likewise," she whimpered, tears dripping onto a forced smile. The 
irony of meeting an old friend for the first time drove a hard nail into her 
stomach

        Ever the artful host, Oak shuffled the pair aside. "Richard," he 
suggested amiably, "Why don't you show Ms. Mason upstairs to the kitchenette and 
fix her a cup of tea?"

        Ash nearly protested as Richie led the troubled girl away. He had wanted 
to talk to the boy himself, and find out what had happened to him after their 
rescue at Mount Moon. Upon seeing Dixie's features, however, he wisely 
refrained; Dixie had, apparently, known Richie far longer than he had, and 
probably a lot better. He could wait. Besides that, one glance back at Professor 
Oak's soft-yet-serious demeanor reminded him that he had more important matters 
to attend to first. 

        As soon as the duo was upstairs, Ash allowed himself a slow, shaky sigh, 
one that Pikachu mimicked in perfect time. The gesture did not go unnoticed by 
his mentor. "I believe you and I can take our tea in the main lab, hmm?" he 
rested a hand on Ash's shoulder. Ash didn't know why, but the simple gesture 
made him feel a million times better. He gave Oak a warm smile, a genuine one 
this time, as they adjourned to the lab via the compound's confusing mess of 
hallways. "So, Ash," Oak led the way into the research room, expertly dancing 
between bulky, mysterious machines to reach the far counter, "My grandson told 
me about your latest escapades in the Alaskan mountains."

        Ash followed close behind, making sure that Pikachu had followed all 
right. The thunderous mouse was right at his heel. Like Ash, Pikachu hadn't 
forgotten the time the two of them had gotten lost in the labs for half a day 
before Oak had found and rescued them. He saw the Professor already hard at work 
with a kettle of hot water, and marveled at the old man's resourcefulness. He 
really didn't miss a beat.

        "What did he tell you?" Ash asked cautiously, accepting a glass of 
steaming liquid from Oak. He picked up a biscuit (also at the ready) and tossed 
it to Pikachu before taking a tender sip.

        Oak's eyes sparkled with mystery. Leaving his own tea untouched, he 
reached down into one of the cabinets beneath the counter and pulled out a 
large, thick tome bound in ancient leather. His strong hands cradled the book 
gently, laying it to rest on the counter. "Enough to make a connection with 
this," Oak informed him, folding his arms across his chest.

        "That's-"

        "The Foretelling of Ma'kala." Oak nodded. He pulled a small computer 
screen attached to a telescopic armature over, touching the screen and calling 
up several different files. "I haven't had much time for translating 
it…Anthropology is just a hobby of mine, really," he lamented. With expert 
fingers, he called up a file filled with pictograms and subsequent translations. 
"Do you know what this is?"

        Ash recognized the file instantly; it was the passages of the book that 
the Professor had already managed to translate…the files that Tracy had helped 
him 'borrow' from the old man's files. "No." Ash said quickly, praying that he 
sounded innocent.

        If Oak suspected any deception, he didn't voice anything. He remained 
silent for several moments, leaving only the rain pounding against the windows 
to break the quiet. "I must admit, Ash," he confessed at last, "I did not simply 
take Richard in out of the goodness of my own heart…"

        "I had kind of wondered about that…" Ash nodded, glad for a change of 
subject. "Wouldn't it have made more sense to send him home to his parents?"

 

        "Didn't you know? Richard's parents have been dead for nearly four 
years."

        The statement hit Ash like a sledgehammer to the ribs. Dusting the 
cobwebs away from his memory, he recalled a time when Richie had gone back to 
America for a few months…Suddenly, the trip made sense. But the trainer had 
never breathed a word about anything. "I…didn't know." He admitted.

        "I happened to come across his case purely by accident," Oak continued, 
unaware that Ash was only half-listening. "There have been plenty of cases of 
memory loss, of course, but the wild stories he described to the medical team 
caught my interest. Of course, I wouldn't have thought anything of it if you 
hadn't given me that artifact to hold on to…"

        That captured Ash's attention completely. "Professor, do you-"

        Wordlessly, Oak led him over to a row of square lockers, each 
constructed of stainless steel, stacked four high. He entered the access code 
for one of the lockers on the top row and pulled on the latch. A small hiss 
escaped the chamber as the air pressure equalized, covering the tiny gasp that 
passed Ash's lips as he saw the accursed ball sitting beyond the door.

        "I believe this is the object you were going to ask me about…" he 
remarked to the transfixed teen with a small smirk. "I've kept it locked up, 
just as you asked. I limited my research-"

        "You didn't touch it, did you?" Ash blurted out without thinking.

        Oak's eyebrow elevated. "Ash…is there something you aren't telling me?"

        "There's plenty, old man."

        Lightning flashed and thunder roared, underscoring the new voice's 
intrusion. Turning in unison, Ash, Oak, and Pikachu looked to the lab's 
entrance. There in the doorframe stood a young, curvaceous silhouette with hand 
on hip, glaring defiantly at the two men and their Pokémon. The figure stepped 
into the light, revealing dark brown hair and picture-perfect features twisted 
with disgust.

        "Giselle…" Ash murmured her name in shock, rooted to the spot.

        She strode forward, her heels clicking against the hard, cold tile. 
"That 'artifact' is a Demon Ball. And Ketchum is the Chosen of the Pokégoddess 
herself."

=To Be Continued=

        In case you were wondering (and even if you weren't), the title of this 
chapter is a play on the title of a song, Dueling Banjos (and it's widely-
acclaimed parody, Dueling Tubas). Honestly, something I've missed in the series 
is coming up with the titles to the stories. The Hidden Machine Saga didn't 
offer much in the way of creative titles…