Disclaimer: Pokemon never will and never has belonged to me, but instead to it's rightful owners 4Kids Entertainment, Nintendo, Game Freak, so on and so forth.

A/N: I received the idea of this fic from the story of Marla Hanson (you can read what it was at http://www.greatertalent.com/biography.php?id=191) and I suggest you do, because its very interesting and touching. This story isn't a complete copy of the reality, I just used a similar theme and I hope no one minds or takes offence. If you have a problem, feel free to contact me. I simply wanted to have a go at writing such a story myself – especially after I saw the movie that had been based on Ms. Hanson's tragedy.

Slashed

Chapter One – All That Glitters Isn't Gold

Twenty-five year old fiery haired Misty Waterflower stepped out of the Cerulean City Gym after another triumphant victory. Spring had struck, with daffodils and snowdrops blossoming nearby and Misty was slightly taken aback by the serenity of the flowers caressed by the passing wind.

Her phone beeped and she dished it out of her bag, before hitting the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Misty,” she heard the voice of her best friend, Tracey Sketchit on the other end.

“Hey, Trace. How's it going?”

“Fine, fine. You?”

“Yeah. What about business?” Tracey was a budding artist who sold caricatures at the Cerulean Pier.

“Slow yesterday but because of all the nice sunshine we've got today its been buzzing with customers. Hell, I almost feel rich.”

“Almost,” Misty reminded him with a giggle.

“Yeah, okay, almost. So lunch as normal?”

“Sure.”

“Coolness.”

“Coolness?”

“Uh, don't ask.”

“I won't,” Misty hung up, a smile haunting her lips. She felt truly happy today. For a long time Misty had lived with a depression hanging at the back of her head. As a kid, she was a tomboy who had loved to travel. It had been how she had met Tracey. She had travelled with two other guys, Brock Slate and...Ash Ketchum. Ash had been her closest friends after years of loneliness and Misty had always felt she shared a special bond with him.

Such wistful thinking was brushed aside, however, when she was forced to go back to Cerulean to tend the Gym in the absence of her three older, irresponsible sisters. Since then, she had never really got a chance to go back.

Her life had began to change drastically and Misty felt herself stuck in a rut. Tracey who had given up travelling and lived nearby visited her a lot but it didn't get her out of that endless cycle of work, work and more work. She missed Ash and Brock and Pikachu (her other travelling companion owned by Ash) especially Ash.

It seemed after all of those years with people teasing her about having 'feelings' for him, she had done the inevitable and fallen in love. Even now, she sighed at her stupidity to fall for a guy like that. By the time, he even noticed her as a romantic possibility he had already been swept off his feet by the radiant May of Petalburg City.

That, Misty, guessed was where her depression started. She mentally kicked herself for getting hot and bothered over some guy, but couldn't help it. It just happened naturally, like in the winter snow came and the summer brought heat. She disliked it but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't prevent it. Ash stirred feelings in her she would rather have left undisturbed.

Yet over the past years, she had been doing well. She had slowly learnt to forget him as she didn't really keep any contact with him anymore. The last time she had seen him must have been six years ago where he had finally achieved his title of 'Pokemon Master'. He had been seventeen and she nineteen. Thankfully, she hadn't been too festered with jealousy to strangle him and May when he had at first completely ignored her – too preoccupied with the pretty brunette. Instead she had vented out her pent-up anger by viciously beating up Brock who had gone into his girl-crazy mode as per usual.

Now, six years on, Misty felt a strange sensation that she had finally, finally, gotten over Ash.

'Six years is a long time, girl,' her inner voice told her.

It was a long time but at least I did it, Misty decided as she took a walk to the local French joint which had been set up a few years back and quickly become one of her favourites. So she was a French nut, but well the girl had to have some hobbies.

Tracey was there sitting by their usual table.

“Hey,” he grinned, “Ordered the norm.”

“Coolness as you like to say,” Misty replied.

Tracey stuck his tongue out and Misty was about to do the same when she heard a voice like silk interrupt her.

“Say, isn't that Misty?”

Tracey looked up, “Yup, Trovita. That's Misty.”

“Trovita?” Misty looked and felt startled, “Rudy Trovita?”

“The one and only.”

She swung around to see a dazzlingly handsome man wearing a pair of jeans and a dark red shirt open at the collar.

“Rudy,” she murmured remembering the guy she had met at Trovita Island years ago. At the time he had been strangely smitten with her – a fact both Tracey and Ash were shocked to witness. He looked the same, just a lot more mature. He must have only been a few years older than her. Twenty eight, perhaps?

“How are you?” he asked, in his soft voice.

“Fine, you?” Misty managed to choke out.

“Yeah good,” Rudy replied.

“Uh,” Tracey stalled feeling unexpectedly uncomfortable between the two who had locked gazes, “I'll be back. I think I need the men's room.”

“Uh-huh,” was the dazed reply as the pair simply stared at each other.

******

Two hours later, Rudi and Misty took a walk down Cerulean Pier. Tracey had made up a lame excuse hours ago to get away from the pair who he had thought were acting quite strange...he had a shrewd feeling what it was but refrained from pointing it out terrified Misty's infamous mallet would make another appearance.

“Pretty here, huh?” Rudy asked.

“Yeah,” Misty whispered, enjoying the sound of the sea she could hear just a few miles away.

“Not just the view, though,” Rudy added slyly.

Misty blushed.

The pair had been talking non-stop for the last few hours, learning everything they could about each other. In years, Misty had freely opened up to someone without – something that made her mind reel – having to bring out her trusty mallet. It was an alien feeling but comforting, nonetheless.

Rudy had been equally honest or so Misty felt. He was a really sweet guy, she thought, kind, thoughtful, clever...

'Hey,' her inner voice chanted, 'Is it just me or are you...'

Yeah, Misty dreamily replied.

“So Misty,” Rudy cut into her train of thoughts and Misty realized they had reached her apartment, “Are you doing anything special tomorrow?”

“Um, no,” she replied hastily.

'Omigod,' her inner voice screamed, 'Is it just me or is he...'

“Care to have dinner with me?” Rudy asked smoothly.

'AAAAAAAAAARGH!' Misty mentally hollered.

“Love to,” she breathed.

“Good,” Rudy bent down and kissed her cheek, “Pick you up at seven.”

A swarm of Beautifly attacked Misty's stomach as she felt her cheek burn.

“Bye Rudy,” she called as he turned and disappeared down the flower-lined street.

He turned back and waved.

*****

“Mew spare me, Misty,” Tracey cried, “I get it. I get it. Rudy is perfect. Rudy is wonderful. Rudy may as well be the Poke-God. Happy?”

“No,” Misty chuckled at her friend.

It had been three weeks since she had her little reunion with Rudy. The pair were already in a surprisingly tight relationship. Misty had never felt so at home with someone since...

'No,' her inner voice firmly said, 'Stop that thought RIGHT now.'

“Why do you insist on going on about him?” Tracey queried, gazing at his love-addled friend.

“Because he's so fabulous,” replied Misty, “He even bought me a silk rose yesterday. How romantic!”

“Whatever,” Tracey replied before glancing out of the window, “Hey look, here comes the Absol in question.”

“Rudy,” Misty squealed in a voice too shrill and girlish to be her own. For once in her life, she didn't care and ran into his arms. They shared a sweet kiss.

“Hey, Sketchit,” Rudy said, “Mind if I take my girl home now?”

Misty giggled and Tracey eyed her strangely.

Under no circumstances would Misty have ever let any guy before call her 'his girl'. She was a feminist through and through – what was up with that now? Why the hell wasn't she beating Trovita into bloody pulp for calling her that?

“Um, okay,” Tracey grunted, telepathically sending Misty a message she was at a loss to receive.

'Keep your guard up, Mist. This guy's all smooth talking. Don't let him do anything to you.'

He watched glumly as the pair exited swiftly, linking arms as they did so. He resolved to call Misty within an hour. She should have reached her flat by then.

*****

“Mist, can I come in?” Rudy slurred.

“Sure,” she chortled and they slipped into her flat, “Sorry it's so small.”

“No worries,” her boyfriend replied, “I'm going to get some water, okay?”

“Sure,” she repeated, “Glasses in the top shelf.”

She hung up her coat and hugged her sweater sleeves. God, this was too good to be true!

Suddenly, she felt warm arms around her waist.

“Hey,” Rudy whispered.

“Hey,” she replied as he turned her around to face him. His left arm, oddly enough, was hidden from her sight behind his back.

He tilted her chin up and lowered his face to kiss her. As soon as his lips touched hers, every fibre in Misty's body began to tingle. It was like this every time they kissed. She let go of all of her thoughts, her worries, her anxieties...just enjoyed the moment.

Suddenly, a burning white pain flared in Misty's cheek and then another jolt of pain surged through the other side of her face. Red met her vision and her head whirled. Red blood was dripping from two scars running along her face.

Instinct burst into action and Misty managed a deft hook that made quite an impact when it collided with Rudy's jaw. Enough impact to make him stagger back.

“What in mew's name are you doing?” he cried and Misty noticed his eyes held a lecherous gleam in them.

In his left hand she spotted a knife. A kitchen knife, one of her knives. Her head began to swim. No wonder he had hidden it from her. The question of “why” was stuck in her throat.

Rudy jumped to his feet and reached forward.

“Get away from me,” Misty cried, kicking the knife out of his hand. It spun across the room, landing on the wooden floor with a clatter.

“What's wrong with you?” Misty shrieked, “Why did you cut me like that?”

Rudy leered at her, “It just happens sometimes. I can't control it. I get so excited.”

“What?” Misty thundered, her voice filled with disgust.

“Well, hon,” Rudy drawled, “You're such a bossy little girl. A guy needs to tame his woman when she's like that. I thought a little knife would do the trick.”

“What?” Misty echoed, “Holy Pokemon! What are you talking about?”

“Look, sweetheart,” Rudy stumbled forward and Misty, now, was able to smell alcohol on his breath. Why hadn't she noticed before? She was so stupid.

Misty struck out with her foot, suppressing a groan. Her face felt like it was on fire. Talking seemed only to make it worse.

“Get away from me,” she whispered viciously, “Get out of my house, get out of my life and get out of my face. I never want to see you again.”

“Well, babe,” Rudy murmured, “I'm not used to listening to chicks all that much so...”

Misty aimed an uppercut at his stomach and then a palm upthrust at his nose. Blood spurted everywhere. It shut him up quite effectively. Then she pushed him out of the door. She locked it hastily, fumbling for the keys. She heard him banging on the wood from outside.

The Waterflower blinked away tears that threatened to spill.

“Mew,” she thought, “Men.”

She slipped into her bathroom and took out her phone. She called the police. Officer Jenny was a friend of hers, she would help. The police woman promised to be there within five minutes. Misty breathed a sigh of relief.

She looked into the mirror and felt like throwing up as she stared at her scars. The first wound had been inflicted to the left side of her face. It sliced through part of her eyebrow and ran in a zig-zag pattern to the top of her cheekbone and then turned, splitting her cheek in half and stopping at her chin. The other one was on the right side, beginning at her forehead and curling under her right eye. Thank Mew the goddamn knife hadn't taken her eye out.

Abruptly, Misty felt tears dribbling out of her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. The agony the cuts had inflicted multiplied tenfold and Misty groaned in pain as the salt began to aggravate her wounds. Her face was ruined. She had never been all that bothered appearance wise before but still this, this was horrible. This was unforgivable. Misty felt as if she would never be able to face anyone again.

But the most terrible part of it was when Misty looked into the mirror she saw weakness. She saw the weakness that had occurred when she had taken Rudy for granted. She saw the weakness that signified she had let her guard down. She saw the weakness that denied everything she stood for. And Misty was no medical doctor, but she had a shrewd feeling that this weakness would haunt her for the rest of her sad, sorry days.

*******************

A/N: Gak. Gak. Gak. I hate writing romance but I suppose it was necessary for this part. I hope it didn't suck too bad. Please review.

My email is lethal.shinken@gmail.com