The first thing James woke up to was the faint smell of burning- a subtle, almost pleasant tinge of charcoal amidst the air seeping in through the window. A close second was the screech of a fire alarm.

He jolted upright at the sudden noise, ripping the bed sheets away from himself and stumbling out of bed with an uncomplimentary cocktail of urgency and drowsiness. A mild relief washed over him when he didn't pick up the crackle of gnawing flames, and he rushed out into the hall. James strangled a cough as a thin smoke filled his lungs, and clamped a hand over his mouth, staggering into the kitchen; Leonardo was arched over a pot by the stove, desperately swatting his hand at the plume of grey smoke erupting from it.

"Ah, shit!" he cursed as his hand caught the edge of the scorching metal, and he sharply withdrew it, not having yet noticed James standing behind him. Leonardo threw the pan into the already full sink, spluttering, and then turned to face James. "Oh, sorry," he quickly apologised, his young face creasing with concern and then back into an expression of annoyance at the ever-screaming alarm. "Shut up!" he told it, to no avail, and then picked up a broom that had been propped up in one corner of the room. Wavering on his tip-toes, Leonardo jabbed the bottom end of the broom upwards at the alarm, hitting it after a couple of swipes. "There's a button on the side somewhere," he yelled in explanation over the relentless noise, and smashed the wooden handle again into the plastic device. "Come on, you piece of junk..."

James leapt backwards as the alarm abruptly stopped, and broke away from the ceiling with a sharp crack, caught in mid-air by a strand of wire. It hung suspended for about a second before crashing to the floor. Silence rung in James' ears as he stared down at the splintered mess, and then glanced nervously at Leonardo.

"Are you okay?" James asked apprehensively after a few seconds.

"Yeah, fine," Leonardo sighed, but smirked at the damage he'd done. "God damn alarm... We needed a new one anyway."

"What happened?" James questioned.

Leonardo shook his head slightly, chuckling at his own stupidity. "I tried to cook breakfast."

When they'd cleared up the broken plastic, and opened all the surrounding windows to try to make the room smell a little less like the inside of a chimney, Leonardo offered James toast. James said he'd just have cereal, doing his best not to sound untrusting of the Italian's cooking abilities. Leonardo saw straight through the act and laughed, and James laughed too.

Something James quickly grew to be grateful for was Aida's attitude towards the incident in the forest two days before he'd staggered onto their doorstep, exhausted and still in shock. She told him that he could report anything he wanted to to the police, but never pressed the subject. He followed her suggestion and phoned the police department in the privacy of his room, where he choked out answers to a very sympathetic Officer Jenny on the other end of the line. A day later, she called back to say that a squad of officers had searched the forest, and so far found it empty of humans. Though such a revelation offered little comfort, James was relieved not to have to face up to any tragic conclusions. He wasn't sure he could take a confirmation to his suspicions.

Forever plaguing James' mind was the matter of contacting Jessie, or any of the others- he didn't even know if they had phones. It had occured to him one day when he'd been holding the phone that he should call her, and it was only when he moved his thumb towards the keypad that he realised he had no clue what her number was. Not for the first time, James cursed his memory, his laziness, furious at his past-self for not once thinking to make a note of it. He supposed he'd never really thought that Jessie would ever be so far out of his reach that his only means of speaking to her would be through a series of numbers.

It took him little time to feel at home in the barely-familiar house. Everything that his parents and tutors had drilled into him in the first ten years of his life still took effect, confining most of his responses to the etiquette of a butler (much to his hosts' amusement), but he felt comfortable- most importantly, he didn't feel like a nuisance.

Despite the breakfast disaster on James' first morning with them, Leonardo proved himself to be a talented chef. Seemingly, scrambled eggs were a nemesis of the otherwise culinary expert, who could throw together just about any dish whilst simultaneously scrolling through messages on his phone (a habit that Aida freely voiced her irritation to), appearing to be more focused on the latter task.

It was during a walk with Leonardo and Lupo, on a cloudy but warm afternoon, that James announced that he was leaving.

"Already?" Leondardo asked, stopping in his tracks at the declaration. "It's only been a week. You're welcome to stay longer."

"Thank you," James said as Lupo twirled around his ankles, tail wagging. "But the sooner I find a job, the better."

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"I have relatives in the area," James told him. It was true, though what he failed to mention was the fact that he would never to go to them for help. If he did, he'd probably find himself being forced to recite wedding vows by the end of the day.

Leonardo threw the tennis ball he'd been holding across the field, and the Vulpix chased after it. "At least stay for lunch," he said. "Aida will want to see you off."

"Of course," James agreed. They returned to the cottage, where they ate the leftover pasta from the day before and made small talk. James thanked Aida and Leonardo for their hospitality as profusely as they allowed him to; Aida was only satisfied when James agreed to come back should he ever need somewhere to reside.

And suddenly he was back on the lonely dirt road, the elements bitter against his skin and the weight of all he owned on his backpack.

James cast a glance backwards at the concrete wall blocking the city behind him as a siren warbled in the distances, flashes of red and blue sweeping across small portions of the sky. He broke the pace of his steps for a moment in thought, wondering which of the three possible vehicles the cry was emitting from.

As he put his curiosity aside and resumed walking down the alleyway, the sound of heavy, quick footsteps grew louder behind him; he turned, paranoid of some attacker only to see a young man and woman sprinting in his direction. They were both wearing some kind of uniform with black shirts and either trousers or a skirt, and white boots that looked grey in the lack of clear lighting. Caps cast shadows onto their faces, and, perhaps most notable was the red 'R' printed on each of their chests. James barely had time to process this in the two seconds it took them to reach him; the woman kept running forwards, but the man ground to a sharp halt by James, and hurriedly fumbled in his trouser pocket.

"What are you doing?" the woman called back to him, reluctantly slowing down so as not to go on without him. "C'mon!"

The man, catching his breath, pressed a banknote into James' hand and looked pleadingly at him.

"Hey, be a pal and tell them we went that way, yeah?" the man said, jerking his thumb down an alleyway to the right. "Cheers!" he thanked before James had a chance to respond, and ran after his partner.

"That's not going to work," James heard the woman tell him as they tore down the alley.

"Worth a shot," the man muttered, and the two clambered expertly over a chain link fence out of sight.

James blinked, trying to process what the hell had just happened, and turned his attention to the note in his fist.

"Shit- where did they go?" a voice shouted not far away: about five or six cops appeared behind James, out of breath.

"Did you see two Team Rocket agents come past this way?" one of them panted, his hair plastered to his face with sweat. "Uh, big red Rs on their shirts?"

"I- yeah," James replied, unsure of what to tell them as he bunched up his fist so the note was out of sight. It was clear the man who had bribed him was a criminal of some kind, but James wasn't sure where his alliance currently was. The police had done little to win his favour, but then again, he wasn't jumping to assist in helping two fugitives make a getaway either.

"Where did they go?" another officer asked impatiently. When James hesitated, she sighed heavily and pointed forwards. "Did they go that way- over the fence?"

Staring back at them, James desperately tried to think of something to say, knowing they were expecting a response in less time than it would take for him to go over the morals of each option.

"I, uh..."

"Never mind," the cop said quickly, waving her colleagues forward when she realised that trying to get information from the kid in front of her was only hindering the chase.

James watched, holding his breath, as the police officers climbed over to the next alley in twos (the fence not being large enough for more of them to clamber up at once), barking orders into the walkie talkies clipped onto their belts.

He walked forwards a few steps as they disappeared the way the man and the woman had gone, holding his breath in anticipation. James still didn't know what he would have chosen to say given more time, though coming to a conclusion was a little pointless, considering he had already carried out the action in question. Leaning against the ugly grey wall behind, he listened to the sirens move around, only just realising that he was shaking a little from the build up of adrenaline; he slid his hands into his jacket pockets, running his left thumb over the soft inner lining absent-mindedly as he waited for something to happen.

Eventually, he heard people walking at a much more regular speed back towards him, and straightened his back. The cops emerged from a different alleyway they'd gone down- James saw the man who'd given him the money with them, struggling to free himself from the grips of the two officers holding him. The female Rocket wasn't far behind, looking deeply annoyed at the smug cops and rolling her eyes at her partner.

"Get off!" the male Team Rocket agent yelled, doing his best to fight against the cops but only succeeding in slowing his progress down the street. As he stumbled awkwardly forwards, his steps out of his own control as he was pushed onwards, he noticed James watching, and stopped fighting for a moment to shoot him an icy glare. The look he threw at James over his shoulder was like that of a child who had just found out that their friend had told on them.

James turned his head as the people moved out of sight. An odd guilt welling in his abdomen, he tightened his grip on the money, and walked away.

"I'm sorry, but we can't offer you a placement here at this current time."

James nodded at the businessman's statement, trying not to make the sinking feeling in his stomach evident in his expression. It was the fifth job interview he'd had in the last three days, and though a pattern of denial was apparent, there was still always a trace of hope that he might be successful, even though James knew his qualifications were more than lacking. A Pokémon Tech enrolment had been impressive to all of the interviewers, until they'd read on and realised he'd merely flunked out (a phrase he had unsuccessfully tried to disguise with synonyms).

Standing up, James shook the man's hand, an awkward formality he'd had to endure every time he was turned down. "Thank you for your time," he said wearily, and left the cramped office, papers in hand.

He checked his watch. It was five minutes past noon- James groaned as he realised he still had two more places to visit that day: a burger joint and a shoe shop. He was steadily running out of options.

The elevator came to a stop; he stepped out, walked nervously past a group of workers talking in a circle and back outside. Buses and cars edging along the busy street in front of him, James felt a sudden wave of despair. However many interviews he went to, he was sure no one would take him. His unimpressive resume aside, his youth made it near impossible to find employers who would both let him work, and not take advantage of his age with a meagre salary. James thought briefly of going back to Aida, but he knew that would be a temporary solution to what was emerging to be a permanent problem. Besides that, he was sure she had been being polite when she'd said he was no bother.

Then something occurred to him: his family owned multiple estates in the region. If he could find one that was empty... Well, it would at least give him time to mull his options through. That and he could pick up a suit and tie to wear. As much as James hated formal clothes, he knew he must have looked stupid turning up to an office interview in a jacket, trainers and jeans.

New plan in mind, he withdrew the change in his pocket left over from the twenty dollar note the man from Team Rocket had given him, and sauntered over to the bus stop on the pavement corner. The weather had brightened somewhat, and odd patches of sunlight that made it past the clouds filtered through the plastic of the shelter.

When the bus eventually arrived, James handed the driver a few coins, took his ticket and sat down near the back of the vehicle, resting his weight against the window ledge. A middle-aged couple were talking quietly in front of him, but the bus was largely empty.

The journey started out as pleasant- a long, snaking drive past the town and into the tranquil country- but with less and less to distract him, James found his mind again wandering to Jessie. He'd never missed his family- not really, other than his grandparents- but he missed her more than he thought was possible. His stomach twisted into an unpleasant knot every time he considered that he might never see her again. She was James' only real anchor, the only person he knew he could be around without feeling guilty or afraid- Jessie was the first real friend he'd ever had. Even so, his feelings were confused: James wanted more than anything to see her, but a part of him remained angry at her for leaving when she did. He knew it was unreasonable, but he somewhat attributed what had happened to Robbie that day as her fault. Had Jessie stayed, maybe she would have been able to defend him.

Around ten minutes later, James got off the bus, nearly forgetting his bag in the process, and looked around for a few seconds, trying to place his surroundings. The area was familiar, but he couldn't quite recall which way he had to go, and it took a couple of minutes to work it out: left, towards a small forest that led to an upper-class row of houses. He reached the gate to his parents' house quicker than he thought he would. James scanned the driveway for any vehicles that might belong to them, praying that he didn't have the appalling misfortune to chance upon either them or Jessiebelle, but he saw nothing that suggested so.

After failing to open the gate, he realised that the only way of getting into the mansion would be breaking in. Whilst he hardly considered such an action criminal, as technically he had the right to access the property, he had no idea how to go about it. He wasn't even sure he could get over the wall without seriously injuring himself.

James paced around the estate in the hopes of finding some easier entrance point, and settled on a spot by the back of the house where the garbage cans were. If he stood on one, he was fairly certain he could make it over the wall.

He pushed himself up onto the metal cylinder, feeling his heart rate quicken as the bin wobbled precariously and nearly threw him off balance. Quickly holding onto the wall for support, James swung his legs over onto the red bricks, screwing his face up with the effort of such a climb, and- only partially out of his own will- dropped down onto the other side. He landed clumsily, and felt a twinge of pain in his right ankle, which continued to throb as he limped up the gravely path.

It didn't take much time for James to realise that getting into the house itself would be a whole other matter. He tried the door, which he was not at all surprised to find locked, and then worked his way around the house, prising at each window in the vague hope that he might be able to open one. To his mild amazement, one at the side of the house gave under the pressure he applied to the frame, and slid upwards. James thought that it was typical of his parents to leave so many flaws in the security of their property: they were so ridiculously wealthy that a single mansion was probably of little concern to them.

Having clambered through the small gap in the window, James caught his breath, and then glanced around the barely-familiar room. Paintings were hung around the walls like an obscenely expensive wallpaper, and the carpet on the floor looked newly-cleaned. He supposed that, when vacant, the house was still maintained by hired staff.

James went almost immediately upstairs to the second floor of the mansion, dumped his jacket and backpack in the hallway, and collapsed on the bed of the first bedroom he came across. The mattress felt wonderfully soft under his spine, and he remained lying there for a while, just taking in the forgotten luxury of a feather duvet and silk-covered pillows. He then moved to the en suite bathroom in the room, where he took a long shower, and changed into a clean set of clothes.

As the purple sky blotted into black, the lavender-haired boy ate some of the leftover food he'd brought with him, and wondered what he'd do when morning came again.

His departure from the house ended up being much more stressful, when James awoke to the footsteps of someone walking up the stairs three days later, and had gotten out of bed in time to see a confused-looking butler standing in the doorway. Naturally, the man had no idea that the wide-eyed boy in front of him was the heir to the very estate that he was standing in, and instead assumed James to be a random trespasser. Not wanting to risk the revelation of his identity, James grabbed his stuff and ran past the butler before the elderly man fully had time to process what was going on. This time, the gate was open, and he charged through it with a speed he reserved for moments when his status as a bachelor was being threatened.

Once he'd made ground and resumed a normal pace again, career options became prominent in his mind once more. James' stay at the house had merely kept the problem at bay for a few days longer. He checked his bag to make sure that in his haste he hadn't left anything behind, and then properly noted where he stood for the first time: in the dappled warmth of a park. A concrete path beneath his feet was comforting, providing a direction he lacked.

Hours of walking took him through the park, which thinned out onto a rocky landscape (one he was fairly sure led to the town he intended to move to), and then a thick forest. For a horrible moment, James started to panic, no longer certain of where he was, but he soon found a path again and calmed down. He followed it, and stopped in mild awe at what was in front of him: a huge building with an enormous ruby 'R' welded to the front.

James' first reaction was a strange amusement. He'd come across Team Rocket's headquarters, completely unintentionally. He knew his very presence could put him in danger, but something about the situation struck him as funny. There were police squads searching all over the region for this place, and he'd found it.

Then something foreign seeped into his thoughts: he could join.

He smirked immediately, pushing away his own idea. James wasn't a criminal. He'd grown up in a household that juxtaposed a life with Team Rocket to such an extent that he couldn't begin to imagine the transition. Besides that, he was weak. He took pride in his planning and other skills, but he'd admit that he was lacking in physical strength.

And, most importantly, James couldn't possibly consider breaking the law and stealing from others as a career. Could he? His moral compass seemed to be warped enough for the question to present itself as anything more than impossible, and in fact, the more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. Even if he wasn't a natural troublemaker, he got a thrill from breaking rules (though he'd only ever done so in minor ways). Having spent the first ten years of his life doing nothing but be pushed around, James felt deprived of free will, of excitement- both things Team Rocket had to offer. Qualifications wouldn't be an issue either.

But could he live with himself if he stole from people? Yes, he thought so. His own silent admittion surprised him, but he found himself thinking he could. James didn't know if he simply wasn't realising the impact of such a crime, or was just too selfish to care anymore, but it seemed like something he'd get over. Maybe he'd never be completely okay with it, but he'd manage. Anyway, he could always leave.

Moving towards the building, James felt anxiety building up inside him. The idea still seemed utterly crazy- too sudden to be real. "It's part time," he thought to himself. "If they'll take me, I'll just end up doing paperwork or something similar. Then I'll quit and move on."

He grinned at the insane prospect of such an eccentric job, no longer trying to damper the feelings he knew were wrong. James didn't care. He just kept walking, towards what he thought would be a part-time distraction, not knowing that it would end up as his very purpose in a world he'd grown to hate.

Epilogue

He was tired. Too tired to keep his gaze on the sky, too tired to sit on that rock for a minute longer. James frowned; there were too many things he'd left untouched, memories he hadn't yet revisited. He hadn't yet recalled the immense relief he'd felt upon discovering Robbie and all the others to be alive, nor his unexpected reunion with Jessie, his first encounter with Meowth. But however much he wanted to re-live those moments, unpick the tangled memories, James' mind protested. He couldn't stay awake.

So he stumbled back towards his dormitory, sluggish in both his movements and thoughts. James managed to wonder how much of his sixteen-year-old self was still alive as unconsciousness took over, and carried him towards the morning he wished would never arrive.