[Disclaimer:  I do not own Pokémon.  It really is that simple.

 

Rated PG for death and references to death.]

 

 

Once a Hero

 

“Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me, that I live and you are gone/

There’s a grief that can’t be spoken, there’s a pain goes on and on…”

Les Miserables-“Empty Chairs at Empty Tables”

 

Part Two of Three: One Last Journey

 

“I wonder why nothing’s happened,” Jessie grumbled, her complaint coinciding perfectly with that of her stomach.  “Ah, I don’t think I can stand here any longer.”

“Are you always this weak, Jessie?” Butch grated.  His partner grimaced at his voice but added her own anyway.

“That question doesn’t need answering, Butch.  Of course she is!”

“How dare you?” the red-haired Intermediate shrieked.  “I’ll-”

“Be kicked off the team, again, if you don’t get moving,” a blizzard-cold voice came from behind them.

“Boss!” the Rocket agents cried in surprise.  “What are you doing here?”

“Motivating you.  While you four-” Meowth adopted a rebellious expression as he was overlooked, “were wasting your time here, someone,” and the Boss obviously had no doubts about who that “someone” was, “informed the Pokémon trainers in the Center about our operation beneath it.  The police, who are mostly loyal to me, were not informed at all until after the trainers disassembled our people.  And this was entirely preventable.  All you had to do was track him, which is why I assigned all of you to the case.”  The Boss was raving now.  “And, due to your nigh-mythical incompetence, we’ve lost our most effective setup to date!  I obviously have no choice in the matter.  Ketchum must be brought down, and I am utterly convinced that you cannot do it!  No, I will keep you on the case, but I am assigning every available agent to it as well.  And if anyone but you manages to bring him in, you are all discharged!  Permanently!  Do I make myself perfectly clear?

The Rocket agents nodded, more in terrified compliance than acceptance, and the Boss gave a snort and reentered the Viridian City Gym.

“Well, that could have gone better,” James offered.

Less than a second later, he was on the ground wailing while all four of his “teammates” assaulted him.

 

 

“I don’t think this could have been better,” Brock sighed contentedly while he and Misty tore into their complementary dinner at the Pokémon Center.  “Team Rocket gets a bloody nose, the Center stops losing patients, Ash doesn’t get another black mark, and our dinner is free!”

“Ash would have said that that was the best part,” Misty brooded.  The picture of Ash and Pikachu was burned into her mind.  She could still see herself standing beside him that day, facing Mrs. Ketchum while she cheerfully aimed the camera.  “You know, he’s going to need his mother when we find him.”

“Misty,” Brock began carefully, his good humor fading, “she’s…”

“Don’t say it, Brock!” Misty snapped back.  “I know…” she continued much less angrily.  “But he will need a mother.  And I think we’ll end up being his mother, almost like we were on the journeys.  We can put him back together better than anyone else can!” she asserted.  “Better than anyone but his real mom, anyway…”

“But at least we found Pikachu,” Brock added suddenly with a genuine, if faded, smile that surprised him more than anyone else.  The Pokémon looked up from his own meal and chirruped quite definitely, confirming that he certainly wasn’t about to leave them.  “That’ll give us a chance to get him back when we find him.”

“Who?” a passing trainer asked.  He looked vaguely familiar, about their height and with flaming red hair almost as uncontrollable as Ash’s.

“Ash, of course!” Misty snorted without thinking.  And then, as she took in his face, she blurted out “Lance?”

The young man, already Indigo League Grand Master, world-famous Dragonmaster, and a leading (but generally unknown) agent of the Pokémon Guardsmen counterespionage organization, nodded.  “At your service, Misty,” he offered with a courtly bow, his voice surprisingly high for his age and status.  “I came here on a routine investigation of the new Viridian Gym, and I heard that you two had staged a vigilante raid against some Rockets under the Center.  I was too late to get in on the action, but I wondered if I could be of assistance with the other problem in the region.”

“You mean Ash,” Brock stated.  The black-clad Dragonmaster nodded.

“I don’t want to see the boy hurt,” Lance confessed.  “But I also don’t want to see him hurt anyone else.  I was going to return him to the Professor if I found him.  And not for the reward,” he added, forestalling Misty’s outburst.

“I’m glad you don’t want him to suffer any more,” Nurse Joy put in as she passed.  “These two told me his story and I’m amazed he’s only done what he has!”

“Really?” the Dragonmaster asked, eyebrows arching in interest.  “I haven’t heard the full story.  I’ve been occupied with another case for the last few months and haven’t had time to review the summaries.”

“They wouldn’t tell you anything anyway,” Misty said with a glower.  “The Viridian police who wrote them couldn’t figure anything out, but what we’ve decided is…”

 

 

“So, it was the Rockets,” Lance nodded as the two gym leaders finished their recitation.  “That makes sense.  Honestly, with everything Ash has cost them over the years, I’m just surprised this didn’t happen until now.”

Misty’s eyes widened.  “What?”

Lance turned his gaze directly to her.  “Ash has, by luck rather than judgment, cost Team Rocket over ten billion Poké-yen over the last five years or so, not counting his most recent…activities.  Between the destruction of the ocean platform in the Whirl Islands, the liberation of Gyarados here,” he stroked a Poké ball on his belt, “and the constant stream of defeats he’s inflicted on their agents, that’s a believable number.  And evidently Giovanni decided it was time to cut their losses and ‘liquidate’ him.”  His voice was liquid helium on the word “liquidate.”  “In their language, that means kill him.”

“But-” Brock began.

“That doesn’t make sense!” Misty finished for him.  “The blast was just an accident!  Team Rocket couldn’t have known…” her voice trailed off as she thought.  And they didn’t learn from the time that boy and his Pikachu blew this center apart the same way? Nurse Joy had said.  “That’s evil,” she finished in a tiny voice.

Lance’s own expression was unreadable.  “You’re surprised?” he asked, his tone deliberately light but signally failing to improve the mood.  “That’s the way these people work.  And you almost never can pin it to them unless they want you to.”

“So, Lance, you said you could help us find him?” Brock asked, trying desperately to steer the conversation onto less disturbing ground.  The red-haired Master nodded.

“With Dragonite scouring the skies, especially if he carries me, we can find him in a hurry, and at least one of us can confront him.  And with Pikachu actually alive,” the yellow Pokémon smiled, “we stand a chance of convincing him to back down.  If you want, I can let you work with Gyarados to scour the streams and lakes.  She’ll be able to take you up any waterway quickly, and-” he stopped at Misty’s vaguely sickened expression.  “You don’t like Gyarados?”

“No,” she admitted.  “That’s the one Water-type I’ve never exactly warmed to.”

“Wait,” Brock said, another completely different part of Lance’s statement reaching him.  “That red Gyarados is a female?”

Lance nodded again.  “Yes.  Why…oh, that’s right, you’re interested in breeding, aren’t you?”  Brock colored as much as his complexion would allow.  “But back to the topic at hand, how did you follow Ash here?”

“It was my idea, Lance,” Brock claimed.  “We marked each point he had attacked on a map and Viridian was right in the middle of a complete pattern.”

Lance looked at him appreciatively.  “Excellent, Brock.  I would have tried the same given the…” he broke off once again as one of the phone terminals in the room sounded its annoying alert of “Ring-ring-ring!  Ring-ring-ring!  Phone call, phone call!”  Nurse Joy, who had departed during the story, answered it.

“Hello?” she asked.  Then she turned to the room.  “It’s audio-only for a Mr. Zilant.  Is he here?”

Lance turned to the companions.  “For me.”  He crossed the room and accepted the call, his expression growing more and more concerned with each moment.  Finally, he said, “I see.  Thank you,” ended the call, and returned to the youths.  “There’s been a development in that other case I told you about.  I have to leave now.  One last bit of advice-head north.  If Ash completed a pattern around here, then he’ll probably be going somewhere else.  And I don’t think he could stay in Pallet for long in his condition.”

And with that, the Guardsman flowed out the door, stopping only to grab his signature red-black cape.  Several others, including a party of police, followed him out.  Misty and Brock stared at each other, all thoughts of dinner forgotten.

 

 

The youth trudged northward, not hurrying in the slightest.  After all, what would I be hurrying towards? he thought bitterly.  Pikachu won’t be going anywhere.  The bushes of the dense, mazelike Viridian Forest tugged at his already-torn jeans as he plowed through them, unfeeling, uncaring.  He paid no attention to the path he forged, turning aside from trees more by instinct than by plan.  His fiery determination was gone. No, not gone, just drained of its passion.  He still had a single goal.  It was just that, like everything else, it didn’t truly matter.

He came abruptly to his senses as footsteps sounded on the semiformal “path,” some hundred meters to his left.  Animal instincts honed by months of running drew him reflexively into a half-crouch and he stopped, remaining completely still, hardly daring to breathe.

Voices reached him from the path.  “The Boss’s agent had better be sure that Lance said north.  I ain’t gonna trek across a third of the region if he ain’t gonna be there!” a drawling male voice declared.

“It doesn’t matter what you ‘ain’t gonna,’ Section Leader,” the coquettish voice of Rocket Agent 009, or “Domino,” replied primly.  “I have the fancy uniform, so that means that what I say is what you do.  Get the idea?”

The youth waited, but Domino’s voice hadn’t decreased in volume at all.  Therefore, she wasn’t going anywhere.  Finally, he came to a decision.  He stayed where he was until the Rockets alongside him began to squabble again, and then bolted deeper into the forests.

On the path, Domino looked away from the weeping Section Leader as faint sounds of movement came to her.  Probably just a Pinsir, she told herself, and returned to tearing a strip off of the Rocket subofficer kneeling before her in supplication.

After about a minute of crashing through the tangled underbrush, the youth stopped running.  He wiped sweat from his forehead, but even that was more of an ingrained habit than a conscious action.  A faint squeak caught his attention and he looked down.  There, just inches away from his right foot, was a small yellow-green Caterpie.  Even as he saw it, the insectoid Pokémon crawled over to him on its multitude of stubby yellow legs and rubbed his calf friendlily.  A faint spark of warmth entered the youth’s hollow eyes as he watched the small creature.

Caterpie, he thought.  My first Pokémon after Pikachu.  And the first one I lost, too.  His heart twisted inside him as he thought back and the warmth in his gaze turned to ice.  The small Pokémon he had once caught had hardened into a chitinous Metapod and finally broken free into a beautiful iridescent blue Butterfree.  That Butterfree had been with him through many an adventure, until the species’ mating season.  It had nearly killed him, but he had let the Pokémon leave, convinced by his friends that it was the right thing to do.  My first loss, but not my last.  His face took on such a terrifying, tormented expression that the Caterpie left off rubbing him and instead scrambled for the bushes.  The boy didn’t even notice.  You would think it would have gotten easy for me, after Butterfree, Squirtle, Charizard…The memory of each parting was now like flaying skin.  But it never did.

No, it never did.

Pikachu…

 

 

The youth took several minutes to return to himself.  When he finally did, he stumbled on through the forest, even less careful than before.  Which meant he was entirely oblivious to the large honeycombed nest in the tree he finally failed to dodge in time.

Entirely oblivious, that is, until the furious buzzing cry of “Drill!” sliced down from above him.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said aloud, his voice husky and still not entirely changed.  The yellow-striped Beedrill leveled all three of its poison-coated drill-spikes at him, and he smiled grimly back at it.  At the last moment, he twisted aside and slammed his palm into the Pokémon’s back.  All of the whining drill-spikes drove deep into the tree behind the youth, who continued on without looking back.

 

 

Even if he had looked back, the four humans and cat Pokémon pursuing him were much too far behind to be seen.  But his carelessness, completely at odds with the stealth he had displayed in months past, had left them a clear trail to follow.

“Da kid definitely went dis way,” Meowth informed his four companions.  “As if ya couldn’t see for yourself.”

“It was kind of obvious,” James replied, still rubbing his bruises tenderly.

“Well, why are you three still standing around?” Cassidy demanded from the edge of their view.  “Get moving or the Boss’ll have our heads!”

“No, stay there!” a new female voice ordered.  Both of the Rockets twisted around as they recognized the two people behind them.  Their eyes and jaws opened wide as they took in the Pokémon riding with the duo, but they quickly pulled themselves together.  After all, there were Elites to impress.

“What are you two doing here?” Jessie asked with a mixture of contempt and curiosity.  “And when did you get the rat back?”

“We’re calling in a few debts, Jessie,” Mistara Waterflower answered.  “You owe us for…let’s see,” she pursed her lips mock-thoughtfully, “almost six years of not having you arrested, plus a variety of other things.”

“And you offered to help us find Ash just yesterday.  We’re holding you to that,” Brock reminded.

Jessie stuck out her tongue childishly.  “Well, we’re not helping you.  So there!”

“Wrong answer, Jessie,” Misty replied as she reached into her belt for a Poké ball.  “Go, Starmie!”  The purple-silver Pokémon hovered a foot off of the ground, two staggered six-pointed metallic stars with a large red orb in their center.

“Hyah!” it clacked.  Butch and Cassidy were too far into the woods to see, but Jessie, James, and Meowth blanched and clambered into one another’s arms, desperately hoping to hide from what they knew was coming.

“Water Gun!” Misty directed.  A jet of pressurized water burst from Starmie’s uppermost spike and threw the Rocket trio far out of sight at an incredible speed.

“Ash definitely went this way,” Brock asserted as Misty recalled her Pokémon.  “Let’s move!”

“Jessie!  James!” Butch’s voice sounded from ahead.

“Honestly, those two can’t do anything right,” Cassidy said with more than a hint of asperity.  Misty fingered the Poké ball again, but Brock beat her to it.

“My turn.  Go, Onix!” he called as he lobbed a Poké ball of his own.  A massive serpent seemingly made of boulders coalesced out of the red beam the ball released.  “Go ahead, find Butch and Cassidy, and send them flying with your Strength attack!” he directed.  The colossal Pokémon rumbled in acknowledgement and quickly disappeared into the darkened forest.  Roughly twenty seconds later, a pair of high-pitched screams and some highly unladylike language became audible, followed by Onix’s roar of triumph.  Brock punched the air and Pikachu gave a loud cheer.  Then all three companions burst out laughing as they heard Butch and Cassidy voice the time-honored Team Rocket cry, “Looks like we’re blasting off again!”

 

 

This merriment was lost on the youth, who had already forged ahead to the edge of Viridian Forest.  He decided to skirt both Pewter City and the neighboring Mount Moon, knowing that both would be filled with people who could recognize him.  He remained towards the eastern “inner” side of the road into Pewter after leaving the forest, ducking behind scrubs and through the tall grass.  Evidently, the near-encounters with Domino and the Beedrill had reactivated his survival instincts.  But when he heard sobbing from over the hill he was passing, those instincts were overridden once again.

This time, though, it was not grief that pushed away pragmatism, but rather a flicker of the hero he had once been.

A young boy, barely ten years old, cradled the limp, bruised form of a badly beaten Bulbasaur, the green bulb on its back wilting and its eyes closed.  The child was sobbing uncontrollably over the Pokémon, and a faint touch of sympathy softened the wandering youth’s features.  He walked over calmly, belying the struggle against his more practical response, and placed his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder, remembering how often Pikachu’s comforting presence there had given him the strength to continue…and painfully conscious of how it never, ever would again.

The boy twisted around, face contorted by grief and anger.  These quickly turned to terror as he took in the filthy and disheveled appearance of the young man behind him.  “W-w-what do you want?” he asked with a mixture of fear and hostility.  The young man did not respond, merely gazed at the boy with terrifying hollow eyes.  “Leave me alone!”  Whatever bravado the boy might have been trying for was completely lost in his hysteria.

The youth kneeled down, taking his left hand from the boy’s shoulder and transferring it to the three leaf-shaped marks on the Bulbasaur’s head and rubbing gently.  The Pokémon seemed to take notice, pressing against the youth’s palm.  Finally, the youth spoke, his voice as hollow and flat as his dark eyes.  “How did this happen?”

The boy’s terror faded as he realized this frightening stranger meant him no harm.  He dried his eyes, although his voice still wavered.  “W-we were fighting Slate Harrison in th-the Pewter Gym.”  The youth nodded, his eyes and face still blank.  “W-we lost, and…”

“And you didn’t realize it, so you kept going until Bulbasaur was like this, right?” the youth asked.  From anyone else, it would have been an accusation, but there was simply no variation in the young man’s cadences.  Even an accusation would have been more comforting.

The boy nodded slowly, hesitantly, as though it caused him great pain to admit it.  A faint spark of nostalgic humor colored the youth’s otherwise empty eyes.

“Don’t worry,” the youth counseled, his attempt at sympathy made horrible by the evident lack of practice.  “The Harrisons are a skilled family of trainers.  Get Bulbasaur to the Pokémon Center, take care of his injuries, and keep training.  You’ll win it one day.”

The boy’s tears stopped and he finally looked at the stranger, noticing only the tangled black hair and strange zig-zagged pattern on his cheeks before the young man melted into the night.  But still, despite the strangeness of the encounter, the boy was filled with a new confidence.  He picked up his companion.  “Come on, Leafrunner,” he told the semiconscious Bulbasaur.  “Let’s get you fixed up.”

The Pokémon opened his eyes and gave a weak “Saur” as his young trainer dashed down into the valley.  But the face of the stranger was burned into the boy’s mind, and even his Pokémon seemed less important than remembering the young man.

In any event, the boy made it about twenty feet before another hand came down on his shoulder, this one much less gently.  Again, he twisted, nearly dropping “Leafrunner” in shock as he gazed up-far up-into the rugged features of a man in a black bodysuit.  A woman with blond hair and a similar outfit moved up next to his assailant.

“Now, now, none of that,” she warned playfully, not specifying either the boy, who was struggling, or her associate.  “We just want your help with something, that’s all.”  She moved up close, signaling the man to release his captive as she did.  She whispered in the boy’s ear comfortingly, “Sorry, we’re chasing after a criminal and he gets way too into it sometimes.  I’ve tried,” she heaved a theatrical sigh, “to make him back down, but he never learns.”  The man glowered, but she shot him a lethal glare and he subsided quickly.  The boy’s breaths slowed down and the woman nodded.  “That’s better.  Now, we just have a question for you.  Have you seen this person?”  She plastered a piece of paper in his face.

The boy peeled off the paper and took in the photograph decorating it.  He drew in a sharp breath as he recognized the stranger who had accosted him not two minutes before.  Wordlessly, he nodded.

“Where?” the man demanded.  The boy, still not trusting himself to speak, pointed in the direction he had just come from.

“Thanks,” the woman told him warmly.  “Let’s go.”  But as the two turned to leave, the boy noticed a small red “R” on the inside of the man’s collar, which he now realized was inside-out.

“Come on, Leafrunner,” he told the trembling Bulbasaur, “we should get out of here.”

“Argh!” the Rocket Section Leader exclaimed when he crossed the hill and noticed his quarry was gone.  “That kid lied to us!”

“I don’t think so,” Domino replied.  “Ketchum has been good at eluding us in the past.  And besides, the kid was too scared to lie.”

“Well, where did he get off to then?”  Suddenly a heavy crash sounded and a massive cloud of dust billowed over the next rise.  Then, the rushing sound of a rapid descent followed, along with a massive thunderclap of overpressure.

Domino and the Section Leader ran to the crest of the hill and took in the dazed forms of Jessie, James, Butch, Cassidy, and Jessie and James’ Meowth.  Even an impact at literally supersonic speeds had done little more than stun them, a trait that was amazing even to Domino.  “Section Leader, get your men spread out.  He can’t have gone too far.  I’ll see what I can get out of these four failures.”

 

 

“So, Mr. Oak, what can I do for you?” Lance asked of the young man in a navy blue long-sleeved shirt standing in front of him.  The youth shifted from foot to foot with uncharacteristic nervousness, spiked brown hair waving as he did so.

“Um, call me Gary, sir,” he mumbled finally, his habitual superior nasal tenor in complete abeyance.  “And I was wondering if I could study the red Gyarados you carry for Gramps’s records.”  The red-haired man nodded.

“I would be glad to help.  But there is something that I need your help with as well.  Something I believe only one with your background and talents could manage.”  A faint shadow covered one window, and then another.  “I have need of Gyarados for a time,” he said, conscious of the cameras starting to appear in the windows of the supposedly private hotel room he had been invited to.  “Ask me again in about…oh, two weeks.  And now,” he lowered his voice, “do you have a way to block out the newsies?”

Gary shook his head.  Lance sighed.  “Ah, well, looks like we’re going to have to take this meeting to an even more ‘private’ private suite.  Would you come with me?”  Gary followed the Dragonmaster bemusedly up several flights of stairs to the Penthouse floor of Celadon City’s Pokémon Grand Hotel, uncertain as to what Lance intended.  The caped Master punched in a code and swiped a card key at one of the penthouse doors, then motioned for the young researcher to enter.  Once inside, he hit a button that polarized all of the windows.  “Ah, the price of privacy.  They charge an arm and a leg, but I can escape the media circus here.  Now, about that task you might be able to help with…”

Gary leaned forwards.  “Let me guess, something about one of Team Rocket’s ‘experiments?’  That’s what I focus on in my research, after all.”  His confidence was slowly coming back to him.

“Not…exactly.  Not an experiment, per se, but definitely one of their projects.  You see, I ran into Misty Waterflower and Brock Harrison in Viridian two nights ago.  I decided to look you up too.”

“Brock…Misty…” Gary thought aloud.  “You want me to find Ash?  Lance nodded.  “That’s insane!  I don’t even know where to look, or how to handle him…” he trailed off miserably.”

“Just like you always knew ‘where to look’ and ‘how to handle’ those Rocket experiments you’ve rescued?  Gary, all I’m asking is that you help me find Ash.  Don’t bring him in; don’t even talk to him if you don’t want to.  Misty is probably the best one to do that anyway.  Just-”

Amazingly, Gary cut him off.  “Look, Lance, I’m out of the world-saving business.  I’m a scientist now, and I have Gramps and my little sister to worry about.  I’ve done enough to get the Rockets angry at me already, I do this and the Oak Ranch will go the same way as the Ketchum house.  I’m sorry.”

Lance nodded understandingly, a gesture he was making surprisingly often on this case.  “All right.  Just one last thing you should know…Pikachu is alive.”  And with that, he depolarized the windows, opened the door, and escorted Gary out, politely but firmly.  He then sat back in an armchair and tapped his finger against the arm rhythmically.  “One, two, three.”  A knock sounded at the door.  Lance opened it, and Gary stood there, a hesitant expression on his face.  “He should be around Mount Moon by now, and you can contact me with this.”  Lance handed a small earbud to Gary, and the boy took it.

 

 

“Brock, he’s not going to be hanging around in Pewter!  Everyone here knows him!” Misty protested the morning of Gary’s meeting with Lance.

“All thirty ‘everyones?’” Brock replied.  “If there’s any town he could hide in, it would be Pewter.  And besides, if there’re Rockets around here, he might be hunting them like he did in Viridian.  Which you also said he wouldn’t do.”

Misty gave in with ill grace.  “Oh, all right, Brock.  We can at least rest here and check everyone out, ask if anyone saw him…”  She trailed off as a small boy with a slightly tired-looking Bulbasaur came up to them.

“Are you looking for that Ash too?” he asked in a voice cracked with the beginnings of its change.  “Because I’ve seen four groups of people come through here, all asking around for him.”

“What, did you see him?” Brock asked.

The boy did a double take as he took in Brock’s features.  “Oh, wow!  You’re Brock Harrison!  You ran the gym here when I was little!”

“You seem to have another fan, Brock,” Misty remarked drily.  “Too bad they’re never the ones you’re after.”

“Oh, shut up, Misty,” Brock replied resignedly.  “So did you see Ash?” he asked the excited child again.

“Sure did!  He came up to me and told me to keep trying after Leafrunner and I lost to Slate at the gym.  He wasn’t near the trail, but I think he was heading east from the...south end of town?  Yeah, that’s right.”

“Told you to keep trying?  How did he say it?  What was he like?” Misty demanded.

“He was kind of scary.  It didn’t sound like he was used to being friendly.  And everything about him was just…flat.  His voice didn’t change.  He was trying to help, but he really gave me the creeps.  But it still worked…I’m out here training so I can win in the end, just like he told me to!  It was weird, finding out he was that murderer everyone is talking about.”

“Thanks for your help, kid,” Brock said.  The boy nodded, then the Pokémon between the two travelers finally registered.”

“Sure.  Hold on-I thought you used rock-types.  What’s that Pikachu doing?  Is he yours?”  He addressed the last to Misty.

“No,” she answered with a small, sad shake of the head.  “He was Ash’s.  He thinks Team Rocket killed Pikachu, and that drove him mad.”

“Team Rocket?” the boy asked.  “Do they wear red ‘R’s?”  Misty and Brock nodded in unison.  “All of the people who’ve asked about Ash, except you, have had them on somewhere.”  The two trainers blanched.

“This is getting serious.  We need to go.  Fast,” Brock decided.  “Okay, kid.  Thanks.  And keep trying.  Maybe I’ll see you one day when you’re out travelling.”

“I hope so!” the boy said.  “I’m going to be a Master, just you wait and see!”

“You know, that boy seems so much like Ash was, all through our journeys with him,” Misty sighed after they had finally dislodged the energetic youngster.  “I want to be able to see Ash like that again one day.”

“Well, to do that, we’ll need to catch up to him.  Come on, I know a shortcut through Mount Moon from when I took up some fossil hunting, after Ash went to Hoenn.  We can get through the mountain in less then six hours if we move fast.”

“Right!” Misty confirmed.  “And with Team Rocket on his trail, every second counts.”

 

 

“Did you four get special training, or are you this stupid naturally?” Domino demanded of the Rocket agents who had landed near her.  “It’s been over a day and we’re still no closer to finding Ketchum!  And you can’t even help?

“Well, we did-” Cassidy began, only to stop suddenly as Domino fingered the lethally weaponized “black tulip” that prompted her other nickname.  Obviously, protests were useless.

“Hey!  Over here!” Meowth called.  “I know dese shoeprints!  It’s da twoip!”

“He’s going around the mountain rather than through it.  Probably a good idea, except for us.  Section Leader!” Domino barked.  “Get your people together and move ahead.  Fast.  Ketchum’s skirting the mountain and I want an impenetrable screen around every possible path between here and Cerulean!”

The by now thoroughly cowed Rocket subofficer relayed the command to his subordinates, and the little party of higher-ranking agents began trotting rapidly across the row after row of hills.  Jessie shivered as the late autumn winds struck the midriff her uniform left exposed.

If they had thought to look, they would have noticed the blue-white jacket their mark was known for in a small gully between two of the more sheer-sided hilltops.  Even if they had thought, however, it would have done them no good, for the only thing under that jacket was soil.

 

 

It would have been better to go through the mountain.  How many people can Team Rocket have after me? the youth thought to himself as he flattened his slim form against the alpine forest floor.  How many can they have left? he amended, thinking of the last pair of agents to reach him.  They had “only” flown about thirty feet before landing in a tree, but it was definitely sufficient to take them out of the field.  Now, another pair of agents, dressed in unfamiliar grey-purple uniforms, was closing in around him, and he was down to his last plundered explosive.  These two were definitely professionals-he hadn’t even known they were there until they had started communicating over short-range radios in what they no doubt fondly imagined were low voices.  The agents were coming from two sides, pinning him against the mountainside, and it seemed from their slow approach that his hasty attempt at evasion had come too late.  Even as he watched, the two agents drew firearms.

Guns…great.  So I can’t fight, I can’t run, and I can’t hide.  What can I do?

He was spared having to answer that question when a nasally tenor voice he recognized called out, “Umbreon!  Use Shadow Ball!”  The agents turned in shock, their attention so focused on their prey that they had missed the newcomer entirely.  One of them, the feminine silver-haired male behind the youth, went soaring through the trees and into the sky following the impact of a massive purple-black sphere.  His partner, a muscular straw-haired giant of a man, gaped in amazement for about a second before another orb sent him skyward as well.  “Umbreon, return,” that same voice-a voice the youth recalled he had once despised-ordered, and the unmistakable sound of a Poké ball’s containment beam firing could be heard.  Then the voice rang out again, searching for someone.  “Ash!  You around here?”

Nothing for it, the youth thought, and he ran.  After what had happened that night almost five months before, he could not bear to face the person he knew was behind him.

“Ash!” the voice rang out behind him as its owner saw him.  “Ash!  Wait up!”

The youth turned, shoulders shaking.  “At last someone says my name.  Gary.”  As before, his voice was completely devoid of passion.

“Ash,” Gary said, finally face to face with his one-time rival.  “Ash,” he breathed again in shock as he took in the boy’s battered and wild appearance.

“Is that all you can say?”

“No.”  Despite his obvious revulsion at Ash’s appearance and dead voice, Gary forged ahead.  “I can also say…I’m sorry.  If I hadn’t let Pikachu go in there, your mother would still be alive.  I shouldn’t have hesitated.”

“No, Gary,” Ash replied, voice filling with self-hate.  “It was my fault.  I was the one who made the mistake, and I was the one who suffered for it.  Not the only one, of course, though.”

“Ash!” Gary half-yelled in amazement at what he was hearing.  “You didn’t-”

“Yes, I did, Gary.  My mistakes always hurt everyone else.  Why should that one have been any different?” he asked rhetorically.  He turned those flat, haunted eyes to the ground now.  “With Pikachu and Mom dead, why should I even stay around?”

“Pikachu?” Gary said slowly, remembering what Lance had told him.  He took a step closer to Ash, who made no move.  “Pikachu isn’t dead, Ash.  He was-”

“You’re lying!” Ash accused, voice breaking but eyes dry…and filling rapidly with fury.  “Why’re you lying?”  In a completely unexpected move, he planted his fist in Gary’s stomach and ran off into the pines, vanishing completely from view by the time Gary had recovered.  The young scientist keyed the earbud Lance had given him.

“Lost him.”

 

 

“You lost him?  How could you lose him, Hun?  You’re supposed to be the best Special-Elites we’ve got!” Domino demanded of the sheepish agents Gary’s Umbreon had launched.

“It’s Hunley, Ms. Domino,” the womanish agent said in an equally womanish voice.  “And we got flanked…by Gary Oak.”

“Oak, eh?  What’s he doing up here?  Ah, that doesn’t matter, he’s just going to be another obstacle.”  The radio belted to Domino’s hip squawked for attention.  “What?” she demanded, her habitual jaunty demeanor replaced by asperity.  “Two trainers came out of Mount Moon.  And your point is?”  Then, she blanched.  Who?  Oh, that s just wonderful.  All right, looks like we have a mess to clean up.”  She winked at Jessie and James.  “And not like the type I had you cleaning up last time.”

 

 

“Get out of the way!” Misty yelled at the four black-suited Rocket grunts blocking the cave exit.  “Get out of the way or I swear I’ll flatten you!”

“You and what army, little missy?” one of the grunts taunted.  “Ms. Domino’s on her way here with some friends, and I don’t think you want to make her any madder than she already is.”  A faint grayish light behind the man became distinguishable from the sunlight, but the grunt couldn’t see it.  “You-” and he was cut off in mid-word when his body, and those of his companions, became encased in a large block of ice.

“Misty, are you down there?” a soft voice inquired.

“Miss Prima?” Misty answered, beside herself with joy at hearing her heroine’s voice again.  “Yes, we’re in here!”

“Good.  Slowbro, use Psychic to move these people out of the way!”

The ice containing the rocket grunts glowed blue and rose several feet into the air before gliding smoothly sideways out from the cave’s exit.  The bespectacled, maroon-haired face of Lorelei “Prima” of the Indigo Elite Four peered down into the gloom.  “Let’s get out of here,” Misty directed Brock.

She very determinedly did not look at the increasingly familiar Wanted poster aside the road.

 

 

That night, Misty stayed in the Cerulean City gym-her gym-along with her friend, sisters, and idol.  “So, what brought you out to Cerulean, Miss Prima?” she asked over a low-quality dinner, the best the gym could afford under her family’s mismanagement.

“I was looking for you, actually, Misty,” Prima replied.  “I’m helping Lance look for Ash and thought that you and I might be able to help one another.”

“Yeah…we thought we would have made it here before he did, but we have no real way of knowing,” Brock said around a mouthful of something claiming to be pasta.

“That’s what I thought,” Prima said.  “It’s a shame to hear what happened to him.  He was such a promising trainer, even back when we first met in the Orange Islands.”  Her eyes grew misty behind her glasses as she remembered that day.  “I told him to grow close to his Pokémon, And he followed my advice.  Perhaps too well.”

Misty couldn’t bear to see Prima take any of the responsibility for Ash’s pain.  “It wasn’t your fault!” she protested hotly.  “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame Team Rocket!”

“Yes, Lance told me his conclusions.  But I still can’t help but wonder if Ash’s bond with Pikachu was too deep for their own good.”

“Pika, pikapi!” the Pokémon interjected in what sounded very much like angry denial, and the normally cool Prima surprised them all with a chuckle.

“Well, since Pikachu is alive, we have a chance to set things right,” Misty said.

“You are right,” Prima replied, with sudden seriousness.  “We have a chance.”

In the end, Prima had no real help to offer the pair, except in terms of battling expertise.  And that was to be more important than they ever would have guessed very quickly.

“Prepare for trouble and make it double!” four voices chorused almost the second Misty, Brock, and Prima had left Cerulean’s boundaries, to the vast annoyance of all others present.

“To protect/infect the world from/with devastation!” Jessie and Cassidy competed.

“To unite/blight the peoples within our/of every nation!” James and Butch dueled.

“To denounce the evils/goodness of ‘truth’ and ‘love!’” Jessie and Cassidy sparred.

“To extend our reach/wrath to the stars above!” James and Butch concluded.

“Team Rocket, blasts off at the speed of light!” Jessie stated.

“Team Rocket, circling Earth all day and night!” Cassidy retorted.

“Surrender now or prepare to fight!” James directed.

“Surrender to us now or you’ll surely lose the fight!” Butch clarified.

“Those two,” Prima said with a sorrowful shake of the head.  “And more like them.”  She drew a Poké ball.  “Lapras, use Ice Beam.”  The large blue shelled Pokémon was already preparing an attack as it materialized out of the containment beam.  The four Rockets and Meowth turned and sprinted down the road.

“I almost feel sorry for them,” Brock said.

Misty giggled.  “Almost, but not quite.”

“Right.”

Suddenly, a large Pokémon with a stony face and rocky shell appeared before them, and a furious-looking bipedal golden fox with two silver spoons took up a position behind them.  Several red-feathered Fearow and nearly a dozen black-winged Golbat flapped overhead, blocking out the sun.  “You aren’t going anywhere,” the blond-haired Agent 009 informed them.

“This is…annoying,” Prima said calmly, completely ignoring the panic on the faces of her young charges.  “Lapras, use Water Gun on the Golem in front of us.  Jynx,” she threw another Poké ball, “Ice-Punch the Alakazam behind us.  Pikachu,” she indicated the small yellow Pokémon beside them, “handle the air force with Thunder.”

It was over in seconds.

“I’ll stay here and block other Rockets from getting through Cerulean, and make sure that ‘Black Tulip’ here stays in prison where she belongs.  You get Pikachu to Ash.  And hurry.”

“Thanks, Prima,” Misty said softly as she turned away and faced the road out of her home once again.

 

 

Ash looked back over his shoulder as the massive eruption of electricity illuminated the valley below him.  He thought back to what Gary had said.  No, that couldn’t have been Pikachu.  Pikachu’s dead.  Just wishful thinking.  He turned back and resumed walking, shivering slightly in the cold breezes of early Kantoan winter, breezes he could not feel but his body definitely could.  He marched east, in the direction of Lavender Town…and the Ghost Pokémon Tower.

 

 

“That was…too close,” James panted as he and his companions finally stopped running from Prima’s Pokémon.

“And…we lost…the twerp,” Jessie reminded them.

“No we didn’t!” Meowth said, miraculously gaining the air needed to call out a joyful exclamation.  “His tracks again!  Right dere!”

The four Rockets took in a unified gasp, although whether it was in awe or oxygen deprivation could not be determined.  Meowth was right-faint imprints of sneakers marred the grass, going uphill eastward out of Cerulean.

“Let’s…go!” Cassidy commanded, although the order lost some of its force in her heavy breathing.

“With…what…energy…Cassidy?” James inquired acerbically through his own panting.  A large wooden mallet seemed to materialize in Jessie’s hand.

The hillsides resounded with James’s anguished cries and the pounding of stampeding feet.

 

 

“Going this way, he could only be headed for Rock Tunnel and Lavender Town,” Brock concluded after studying the traces that had so intrigued Meowth an hour earlier.  “But there’s no way he’s getting through the Tunnel any time soon, and it’ll actually be faster for us to turn south and take the road out of Saffron like we did last time.”

Lavender Town…I wonder what he’d be doing there?” Misty pondered.

“I think I know,” a familiar voice cut in from over their shoulders.

Gary?” Brock asked.  Any further surprise at the unexpected interruption was hidden beneath curiosity about the youth’s statement.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean I talked to him near the base of Mount Moon yesterday afternoon.  He blames himself for everyone he’s lost, and he said something about wondering why he should ‘stick around.’  Since Lavender is home to Ghost Pokémon, well…”  Gary clearly didn’t want to state the obvious conclusion aloud.  Neither did the other two, but they knew what Gary had realized anyway.

“We’d better move,” Brock urged.

“If he’s thinking like that…who knows what he’ll do to himself,” Misty said.

Gary hefted a Poké ball.  “Alakazam can teleport us to Saffron-Lavender itself is out because of all the ghosts, but once we’re at Saffron we can take the road.”

We?” Brock asked.  “You’re actually trying to help Ash?”

“Of course I am,” Gary replied, his usual conceited veneer slipping back into place.  “Obviously you need me to catch him, and I don’t want to think about what Pikachu there would go through if Ash killed himself.”

“You’re not surprised to see Pikachu?” Misty asked, somewhat startled herself.

“Not at all.  Lance was the one who talked me into this, and he told me all about what you two were doing.  To be honest, though,” he continued, the mask of arrogance falling away once again, “I want to help because I could have stopped this all from happening by just sending Umbreon in to the house rather than letting Pikachu go.  I need to make it up to Ash and Pikachu.”

“You too, Gary?” Misty asked their old rival.  “Every day I tell myself that if I had just been a little more alert, I could have stopped Team Rocket before all this happened.”

“Misty, we’ve been over this before,” Brock warned her.  It was not your fault.  That goes for you too, Gary.  If you want to point the finger at anyone, point it at Team Rocket.”

Pikachu came over to Gary and caressed his leg gently, smiling.  Gary looked down and his eyes welled up with tears he rarely let the world see.  “You…don’t blame me, Pikachu?” he asked, hardly breathing.  The Pokémon nodded, smiling still wider.  “Thank you,” the young researcher gasped, and then the tears overwhelmed him and he clutched the yellow form tightly as he wept with joy.  Misty and Brock looked on with sympathy as Gary let his emotions flow out and Pikachu patted his shoulder comfortingly.

 

 

“Well, looks like you were right, Meowth,” Jessie said.  “There’s the twerp, and he’s going into Rock Tunnel.”

“Of course I’m right!” the cat Pokémon asserted.  “But even I ain’t good enough to track ’im in dat maze.”  He indicated the cavern with a curved claw.

“What’ll we do, then?” Butch grated.  Higher reasoning was clearly not important to him that morning.

“We’ll trap him inside!” James cried.  “Then we wait at the other exit and grab him!”

“Good idea, but what’ll we trap him with?” Cassidy asked, genuinely interested.

James smiled wickedly as he grabbed something out of Jessie’s sleeve, ignoring her shocked expression.  “This,” he answered as he hefted the stick of old-fashioned dynamite.

“How did you know about that, James?” Jessie demanded angrily.

“I saw you put it away last time we got supplies.”

“Oh.”  Jessie seemed almost disappointed by the simple answer, but her natural fury reappeared in short order.  “Well, don’t just stand there, get on with it!”

Four minutes later, the northwestern entrance to Rock Tunnel collapsed in flame, smoke, and shards of stone.

“Nicely done,” Cassidy conceded grudgingly once her ears had stopped ringing.  “Just as long as he didn’t get crushed, we should be able to bag Ketchum easily now.”

 

 

“Easily,” Cassidy whined three days later.  There had been no sign of Ash.  “You had to say it, didn’t you, Jessie?”

“Uh, Cassidy, that was you,” her red-haired adversary reminded her bluntly.

“Hey, hey!” James tried to separate the women.  “We know the twerp’s never been good at following a path.  He’s probably just lost down there.”

“I hope so,” Butch croaked.  “For your sake.”

“Look!” Meowth called, pointing his paw at the entrance.  A human form was finally visible, vaguely illuminated by the sunlight.  It was clad in too-small clothes and had a large amount of tangled and uncontrolled black hair.  “Is dat…”

“…the twerp?” Jessie finished for him.

“It is!  Let’s get him now!” James confirmed.

As Team Rocket ambushes went, it was well-executed.  Butch and Jessie concealed themselves just off the road to Ash’s left, and James, Cassidy, and Meowth did the same on the other side of the path.  Unfortunately for them, they forgot to watch the skies.

Until, that is, the high singing growl reached their ears, followed by a massive beam of raw energy that swept them from the ground and sent them spiraling through the air, well past Lavender Town.  A massive blue-winged orange-scaled Dragonite soared over the mountain Rock Tunnel ran beneath, bearing a black-caped man with flaming red hair.

“Ash!” Lance called as Dragonite carried him towards the ground.  The black-haired youth made an attempt to dodge aside, but Dragonite was far too fast for a mere human to avoid.

“Lance,” the youth stated flatly when he realized he could not escape the encounter.  “So, I suppose you’re here to ‘help’ me too?”  Lance could tell a rhetorical question when he heard one.  He hadn’t dismounted from Dragonite yet and the Pokémon blocked his view of the boy.  “Well, the only way to help me, or the world, is to get out of the way so I can end my pain.”

Lance was not at all accustomed to hearing high-spirited Ash speak like this.  “Ash, I have some information that could save you from the police.  And more importantly to me, some that will save you, period.  Pikachu is alive.”

Gary said that too.  Why do you keep lying to me?  I saw that house blown apart, and Pikachu was inside it.  Or are you telling me that anything could have survived that?”

“Yes.”  Lance was almost pleading now.  “Ash, why are you throwing your dream-”

“Throwing my dream away?  I was wondering when someone would finally ask me that one.  Tell me, what good is being the ‘World’s Greatest Pokémon Master’ without Pikachu to share it with?  Or with Misty and Brock siding with Team Rocket to bring me in?”  Lance half-raised his hand when he heard Ash’s delusion but let the boy finish.  “When Pikachu and Mom died, that dream died with them.  And so did I.  I just haven’t gotten around to making that official yet.”  His voice was that same, awful monotone.

Lance was absolutely shocked.  “Ash!  Team Rocket wanted to destroy you!  That’s why they took your mother and Pikachu from you!”  Anything to make him listen, he thought.  “If you throw away everything you strove for, you’re letting them win no matter what you do to them!”

“Lance,” Ash said in that terrible parody of his once-lively voice.  “If Clair and Dragonite died because of your mistake, are you telling me you wouldn’t change at all?”

“Of course not.  I…” and Lance finally saw what Ash was thinking.  The Dragonmaster, leader of the Elite Four and greatest trainer in the world, simply sat atop his Pokémon, face blank as he pondered Ash’s question and felt just the slightest sliver of his pain.  And when the boy walked past him, Lance let him go.

 

 

At last, Ash thought as he entered Lavender Town.  The distant, sleepy little burg was perhaps the only place on the planet that had neither of the posters offering rewards for him.  Pikachu…I’m close.  If you can hear me, I’m coming to you.

“I’m coming, Pikachu,” he said aloud as he passed a small, new-looking restaurant.  For a moment, he thought he saw his beloved companion’s face reflected in the glass window, staring at him with joy and longing.  I’m seeing ghosts now.  Well, I guess I should get used to it.  They’ll be my company from now on.

 

 

Inside the restaurant, Brock was growing restless.  “I could’ve sworn he was coming this direction.  Where has he gotten to?”

“Give it a few more days, Brock,” Misty counseled.  “He’s probably just-”

Whatever she had been about to say was lost as Pikachu grew hysterical.  With his nose pressed to the cold blue glass he could observe his trainer pass by, eyes shadowed and unseeing.  “Pikapi!  Pikapi!” the Pokémon shrieked again and again.  Misty, Brock, and Gary knew without looking who Pikachu saw.  Misty gathered the frantic Pokémon in her arms as they rushed out to confront their old friend.

 

 

“Haunter, are you there?” Ash called up as he calmly pushed open the massive wooden door to the Pokémon Tower.  The ghosts had terrified him once, but now he sought their aid.  Their comfort.

A large triangular face made of purple gas leered out of the gloom at him.  “Haunter, haunter!” it chortled, clearly overjoyed until it took in the face of the human before it, the seriousness in his eyes.

“When we met you made me like you to have someone to play with.  I said I wasn’t ready, that I had things I still wanted to do.  But now I can’t do any of those things.  My future is as dead as everyone in my past.  I’m tired of death.  I’m tired to death.  And I just want to come home.  To Pikachu.”  Genuine emotion finally entered Ash’s voice as he said the last.  Haunter ran its free-floating taloned “hands” over its face, reforming its features into a passable recreation of Pikachu.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Pikachu.  Is he here?  Can I see him?”  Haunter shook its head.  “What do you mean?” Ash demanded.

“Pikapi!” a small voice cried in happiness and a yellow furred form passed through Haunter to land in front of Ash.  The ghost looked more surprised than the human.

“Pikachu!” Ash replied, eyes and voice alike containing the joy he had sought.  “I’m ready to stay with you.  To stay here with you.  Forever.  We won’t be apart any longer.”

Pikachu shook his head.  “Pi-kachu,” he told his trainer sadly, realizing Ash’s misconception.  Then he sprang back over Ash’s head.  Ash turned, following Pikachu, and saw the Pokémon he had been about to die to reunite himself with land on the shoulder of one who had once been his closest friend, and whose betrayal had cut him more deeply than he had realized.  Her orange hair hung over her shoulder just as it always had, and to one who had not witnessed her betrayal, no change could have been seen.  But as it was, the sight of his beloved Pikachu landing on the traitor’s shoulder exactly where he should have ridden with Ash was more than the boy could stand.  He barreled forwards, smashing into Misty as she stood staring at him and sending her crashing headfirst into the stout stone wall.  She lay horribly still.  And suddenly, he realized what he had done and he ran to her side.  “Misty,” he prompted as he kneeled down beside her, stroking her hair with tenderness he had not exhibited in months.  “Misty, please, no…not you, too…”

“Well, this is touching,” an all-too-familiar voice put in from the side.  “But I think it’s time you came with us, ‘Ashy-boy!’”

Ash didn’t even look up.  “Cassidy.”  His voice was flat again.  “Can’t even let me die in peace, can you?  You’ve already taken everything else from me, why do you have to make me stay here?”

The blonde agent was taken aback.  “Ash-what-” she sputtered.

“Onix!”

“Umbreon!”

“Haunt-haunter!”

The three cries sounded as one, and the agent disappeared under a pile of rocks which were then smashed apart by a crackling purple orb.  Her limp form glowed blue and sped towards the window, catching the lurking Butch as she flew and propelling him outward as well.  Gary and Brock then approached their old friends cautiously, finally taking in Ash’s appearance.  Even with his concern for Misty, his eyes flickered rapidly from side to side and his knees were bent, preparing to spring.  He was covered with bruises, scratches, and cuts from his arduous trek, and he was pale from the cold.  But the two young men dared not approach him, for Ash was a cornered animal, and even their sympathy for what he had suffered and their worry over Misty were unable to overcome their fear.

Jessie, James, and Meowth had no such inhibitions.  “Prepare for trouble!” Jessie called from another entrance than the one Cassidy had used.

“And make it double!” James continued.

“Get out!” Brock and Gary roared at them.

“Why?” Ash asked.  “So you can keep the reward for yourselves?”  The Rockets gave a concerted squeak of dismay but Brock and Gary merely looked on in confusion.

“We aren’t after the reward, Ash,” Brock began hesitantly.

“Oh?  Which is why you were working with them since that day outside Pewter?  Why should I believe you?”  Everyone in the tower chamber, including the ghost, was more than just mildly terrified by the boy’s emotionless voice.

“Ash…” Misty said weakly, eyes still closed.  “We…aren’t…”

“Misty?” he asked, turning his attentions back to the fallen girl.

“I knew it back on dat blimp!  Dey’re…” Meowth called out in jubilation.  He stopped suddenly, slitted eyes widening as he took in Pikachu’s angry gaze and crackling cheeks.  “Uh, guys,” he tugged at his companions, “maybe we should get out of here?”

“What, and have the Boss drum us off the team?” Jessie replied, not even looking at the angry mouse.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Meowth,” James scolded.

“And all of it’s gonna hoit after dis!”

“Pi-ka-chu!”

And with that, the Team Rocket trio went spinning out through the roof of the Pokémon Tower, which promptly repaired itself, cutting off their familiar shriek of dismay.

“Misty…please be all right…”Ash said almost to himself, not even watching the drama behind him.  “I’ve hurt so many people with my mistakes…I didn’t want to hurt you too.”

“She looks bad.  We should get her to a doctor, now!” Brock warned.

“I’ll take her,” Ash stated, sounding ever so slightly more like himself.  “But you two should stay with me.  Make sure I don’t screw that up, too.”

Brock and Gary looked at each other.  It wasn’t like they were going to let Ash out of their sight in his current state of mind.

“Pikachu, it’ll be a little longer, but I’ll be with you soon.  I promise.”

“Pika?” Pikachu asked.

“Uh, Ash, I tried to tell you before, Pikachu’s not dead.”

“He’s been travelling with us since Viridian City.”

“Why didn’t I see him, then?”

“I don’t know, Ash,” Brock said in exasperation.  “Look, you want me to prove it to you?  Put Misty down for a second and I’ll show you how ‘dead’ Pikachu is!”  Ash gently set Misty’s unresisting body down on the Tower’s stone floor.  “Pikachu, use Thunderbolt!” Brock ordered.  A familiar evil grin came across Pikachu’s face.

Chu!”

“Well…” Ash stammered slowly as his nerves finally started listening to him again, “I guess…I was wrong…as usual.”  Amazingly, that was his only reaction to his companion’s miraculous “resurrection.”

 

 

“She should be fine,” Lavender’s resident Nurse Joy informed the travelers.  “A mild concussion, nothing more.  A few days rest is all she needs.  Which is more than I can say for you,” she said, looking down her nose at Ash.  You need at least a few weeks before you’re ready to go anywhere, young man!  Malnutrition and so many superficial injuries your skin barely qualifies as one organ anymore!  I can’t believe you’re standing!”

“I don’t have a few weeks,” he informed her, his tone flat once again.  “I have to stand trial.”

“Ash!” Gary, Brock, and the newly-arrived Lance chorused.  “What-”

“You saw what I did to Misty.  And then there’s the little thing about me being a murderer.  Lance, tell them.  I can’t be left out in the world.  I’ll end up hurting people.  Myself included.”

“Well that’ll certainly be true if you try haring off in your condition!” Nurse Joy scolded, completely ignoring what had just been mentioned about murder and assault.

“He…he’s right,” Lance said with great effort.  “He does need to stand trial.  And under this region’s laws, he’ll need to go back to Viridian to face it.”

“Lance!”  Brock cried.  “I can’t believe you!”

“Trust me,” the man said softly, so that Ash couldn’t hear.  “I know what I’m doing.  That ‘other case’ I’ve been working on will blow Ash’s wide open.”

“I’ll offer the use of Dragonite for transport,” he said aloud.  “We’ll be there before nightfall.  Nurse Joy still looked rebellious, but knew unshakeable obstinacy when she saw it.  “And Pikachu is coming with me.  I’ll have my associates send a helicopter for you three and you can join us.  We’ll be staying at the Pokémon Grand in Viridian for the night and I’ll let you make the announcement later.”

“Us?  But what about Misty?  She can’t go anywhere just yet!” Brock demanded.

“All right,” Lance conceded, “I’ll wait here until she’s ready to travel.  I’m sure you can put off being sentenced for that long, Ash?”  The boy nodded, slowly, hesitantly.  “And in the meantime, you should get yourself cleaned up.  It won’t do to have Misty faint again when she wakes up to see you like you are now.”

 

 

Ash spent the night in the ward, watching Misty as she slept peacefully, chest inflating with easy breaths that he had long since forgotten the feel of.  Just as he had forgotten the feel of soft bedding or clean skin, neither of which he had been willing to experience again before his sentencing.  Finally, though, he could not keep his eyes open any longer.

Moments later, they flew wide despite his fatigue.  He was breathing heavily and had twisted around harshly.  He could feel his back aching-and he realized with a start that it was the first physical pain he had actually let himself feel since this whole nightmare had begun.  Nightmare… he thought, elements of the brief flash of horror surging back into him and reinstating themselves.  “Pikachu!” he cried out in sheer, raw terror.  The door slid open and the Pokémon, evidently just as sleepless as he, scampered over to him and jumped onto his chest.  “Pikachu,” Ash murmured contentedly.  Still, he did not sleep that night, instead clutching the furry body to his chest desperately while he pondered what he had lost…and what he had found.

 

 

The day of Ash’s trial arrived much faster than it seemed to.  Lance had departed that morning for unstated reasons, but Misty, Brock, and Gary walked him to the courthouse.  They were amazed by the number of people present.  Even Viridian’s newly-elected mayor was watching, his red silken suit evident in his special observer’s box, and there were easily two hundred news cameras cramming the balconies of the courthouse.  Something of the caged animal remained in Ash’s eyes, but he looked much better for four nights in civilization, even if his form was still gaunt, his eyes still shadowed from sleep deprivation he had not even started to overcome, and his skin still coated by the last five months’ worth of filth.  And none of this mattered to him as he took his seat in the oak defendant’s booth at the foot of the Bench in the vast hall.

The marshal, who stood beside the Bench, then rose.  “All rise and give your respectful attention to The Honorable Justice Benfox.”  Every person in the room came to their feet and watched the dignified silver-haired older man make his stately way through the packed hall.  He made brief, reassuring eye contact with Ash before reaching the Bench and taking his seat.

“This court is now in session,” Benfox stated formally, tapping his gavel on the silver bell mounted atop the Bench.  “The case is Ashura Satoshi Ketchum v. Viridian City Police Department.  Mr. Ketchum, are you prepared to hear the charges leveled against you?”

“I am,” Ash replied, his voice grimly determined but at least alive again.

“Very good.”  Benfox made a show of ruffling through his notes, although his light grey eyes were on the trainer before him.  “You are charged with…eighteen counts of murder, thirty-six of destruction of property, and one of endangering the public safety, disregarding over two hundred assorted injuries.  However, seventeen of the counts of murder and all of those of destruction of property occurred with extenuating circumstances.  How do you plead?”

“Guilty,” Ash said, not bothering to hide his self-hatred.

“Very well.  Due to the extenuating circumstances, as well as the highly…public nature of this trial, we will proceed with hearing the evidence despite the accused’s plea.  Our first witness is Nurse Valkyria Joy of Lavender Town, to provide medical insight into the accused’s mental state.  She is not present today, but will be contacted via computer.

A technician near the witness’s booth keyed the computer terminal to life, and roughly a minute later, Lavender Town’s Nurse Joy appeared on the screen.  “Could you confirm your identity, please, Nurse?” Benfox directed.

“Certainly, Your Honor.”  Joy made a motion beneath the camera’s pickup and a soft female voice crooned from the computer.

“Joy, Valkyria Hoste.  Age: Twenty-six years.  Current location:-”

“Yes, yes,” Benfox interjected tiredly and the technician killed the confirmation.  “Now, Nurse, let’s get you sworn in.”  After the formalities were complete, he turned to the person in the plaintiff’s booth.  “Officer Jenny, your witness.”

“Thank you, your honor.  Nurse Joy, how would you describe Ashura Ketchum’s mental state?”

“Officer, are you asking me for my professional analysis or my opinion?”

“Your analysis, please.”

“All right.  As a registered nurse practitioner, it is my professional opinion that Ashura Satoshi Ketchum is, and has been, extremely emotionally unstable following great personal tragedy and an elongated period of extreme stress.  He undoubtedly suffers from clinical depression and has damaged his psyche further by denying the natural grief process while he counterattacked Team Rocket.  It is my opinion that he was not fully aware and in control of-”

“Thank you, Nurse, that will be all,” Jenny cut her off.

“The next witness,” Benfox called, “is the Prosecutor herself, Officer Kaylie Jenny, commander of the Viridian City Police Department.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”  Jenny came forward into the witness booth and took her formal oath.  “On the day of June the Nineteenth of this year, Ashura Ketchum murdered Agent Maxwell Cantré of the Viridian City OrgCrime unit.  He likely did so unknowingly, as agent Cantré was operating undercover as a Team Rocket guard at the time.  Since then, Ketchum has destroyed thirty-two Team Rocket bases, with seventeen additional deaths and two hundred and thirty hospitalizations.  In addition, his apparent zeal in pursuing Team Rocket led him to plant explosives in an unknown Rocket hideout beneath the Viridian City Pokémon Center fifteen days ago.  Forensic evidence demonstrates conclusively that it was Ketchum who handled these weapons, and computer simulations show that their detonation would have completely annihilated the Center, which at the time contained sixty-three humans and one-hundred-and-eighty-four Pokémon.”  As she said this last, she twisted around to glare venomously at Ash despite her dispassionate recitation

“Thank you, Officer.  Mr. Ketchum, I should have noticed this before, but…where is your counsel?”

“Missing for ‘unstated reasons,’” Ash replied bluntly.

“Very well.  Do you have any desire to defend yourself, Mr. Ketchum?  Any cross-examination.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Ash said, surprising his friends by observing due protocol, however temporarily.  “Officer, tell me…how long have you been working for Team Rocket?”

The officer blanched.  But before she could reply, a sophisticated voice called from the balcony.  “What are you insinuating?  That my police force is corrupt?”

“Mr. Mayor, control yourself or I will have you removed,” Judge Benfox directed.  “Mr. Ketchum, that question strikes me as out of line.”

“Well, it’s not,” a fresh voice chimed in from the doorway.

“This is getting to be a regular festival,” Benfox said resignedly.  “Who are you?”

“I am Lance Zilant, Ash’s counsel.  I’m sorry I’m late, but I have some additional evidence that I have been gathering over the last seven weeks that I only finished compiling this morning.”

“Very well, Mr. Zilant, explain yourself.  You say that Mr. Ketchum’s question is not out of line?”  Benfox ended on a questioning note.  Lance nodded.

“For one thing, she might at least have worn her wig better,” Ash said.  “I can see her real hair from here.”  The audience of newsies let out a collective gasp as cameras dialed in on “Jenny” and saw the lock of silver-grey hair that had slipped from under the wig.

“I-this-this is nothing!” she spluttered.  “There is only one ‘Officer Jenny,’ in Johto, but police leaders in all other cities use her name and looks to feel more familiar.  There’s nothing sinister about it.”

“In that case, I hope you won’t mind identifying yourself?” Benfox directed.  “Your personal I.D. should be different than your professional name.”

The pseudo-Jenny blanched but made to draw her card.  The mayor’s voice stopped her.  “Now just wait!  This is out of line!  The next thing you know, these madmen will be accusing me!”

Something about the man’s voice seemed familiar to Ash.  “Your name wouldn’t happen to be ‘Giovanni,’ would it?” he asked, face reddening with rising anger.

He knows, the mayor thought.  Somehow…even though he’s never met me…has he?  “Indeed it is,” he conceded with a sneer.  “Your point being?”

“That ‘Giovanni’ is also the name of the leader of Team Rocket, and I met him once on the liner Saint Anne five years ago and again on Mount Quena in Johto three years back.”

The mayor’s jaw dropped open.  “This is scandalous!  I’ve never been to ‘Mount Quena,’ although I admit I was on the Anne before she sank,” he replied, choosing his words carefully.  “Why should I even be concerned about the ravings of this lunatic child?”  He said this last with a supercilious sneer but just enough worry to give Lance the opening he had been waiting for.

“You shouldn’t,” Lance answered.  “Unless they’re true.”

“They are true, aren’t they?” Benfox said very softly.

A change came over the mayor.  Open mouth, insert foot, he thought.  “Prepare for trouble…” he prompted the room.

“And make it double!” roared back at him.  Dozens of people got to their feet and revealed Team Rocket insignias.  More than half of the jury was among them.

“Time for the backup plan,” Lance muttered.  “Guardsmen!  To arms!”  This had better be worth it…

Most of the others in the room rose at the Master’s call, glaring daggers at the Rockets.  Ash, Misty, Brock, Gary, and Benfox simply looked around in confusion.

“Damn!” Giovanni swore.  Due to the court’s security protocols, none of his men, or the Guardsmen agents, had Pokémon or weapons, but the Rockets were easily outnumbered.  And the bailiff seemed to be in Lance’s court, jacking a round into his handgun at the Master’s signal.  “This isn’t over,” Giovanni ranted.  “Team Rocket does not die.  And it does not forget,” he spat with venomous hate at Lance and Ash.  “This is not over,” he repeated through clenched teeth before disappearing through his private exit to his equally private jet.

“Due this…unforeseen circumstance,” Benfox began, gathering his wits, “and the revelation that the jury was stacked with biased members, and that the city will be unable to provide an unbiased jury after these events, I have no choice but to call upon a rarely-referenced precedent and pass judgment now.  Ashura Satoshi Ketchum, due to the revelation that the Viridian City Police Agency was made up of Team Rocket thugs, I conclude that the man you killed was not a police officer masquerading as a Rocket, but rather a Rocket masquerading as a police officer masquerading as a Rocket.”  Ash’s eyes took on a familiar glazed tone as he lost track of Benfox’s logic.  Abstract reasoning was not high on his list of priorities.  “You are sentenced…” Misty, Brock, and Gary held their collective breath, “to six months probation, during which time you are forbidden to engage in any Pokémon battle or physical confrontation.  This sentence may be shortened with the recommendation of three independent psychologists.  In addition, any future counts of assault, property destruction, or murder without extenuating circumstances will result in your life imprisonment.

“This court stands adjourned.”

As the cleansing silver notes of the bell rang through the hall, Ash finally felt his troubles fade away, replaced by the new unfolding of all his future had once had to offer.

The nightmare is over, he thought in ecstasy.  I can dream again!

He turned to his friends who sat behind him, and as he gazed into their eyes he saw the future’s endless promise reflected there.