.

RETURNING HOME

EPILOGUE

"I need to call Brock," she tells him when his sobs have finally quieted to nothing and the rising and falling of his back under her arm has been a calm, steady rhythm for a while. She traces the length of his spine one more time, her fingers bumping over the ridges of his scars. "And my sister."

"Right now?" he protests. She lets out a small sigh.

"I think so. I promised Brock I wouldn't do anything stupid and then ran away overnight." She tries to throw him a glance. "Like a certain someone."

She gives his shoulder a squeeze and untangles herself from their hug. The room is wrapped in the glow of the still-earlish morning, the shadows smudged and soft. Her own eyes still a bit puffy from crying, she finds her backpack where she carelessly dropped it as they walked in, near the door. She looks down at herself.

"Turn," she says with another sigh as she stands. "I want to take this thing off. And hopefully never see it again."

She quickly strips off what's left of Jessie's uniform. As she opens the backpack she sees the pokégear, still tucked inside: she leaves it there. She slips back into her clothes, shorts, t-shirt, hoodie. That's a little better; she feels a little more like a person after. Still the thunder of gunshot echoes in her ears as she glances back at the black fabric in her hands, and with it the warm, wet feeling of the blood on her face, the man's weight crushing her chest. For a few moments she just stares at it, unable to get herself to do anything else.

"You okay?"

The question startles her. She turns: Ash is sitting on the edge of the bed, tentatively looking in her direction. She forces a breath down her throat.

"I will be," she answers. It needs to be true. She drops the uniform in a ball at her feet and nods her head to the door. "So, you coming?"

He bites his lip, lowering his eyes slightly. "Come on," she prods. "Brock wants to see you too, I'm sure. And he won't be more mad at you than he is at me."

He breathes in as well. Slowly, a small hitch of uncertainty along the way, his hands clutching fistfuls of the blanket. Then nods.

"Okay."

—-

They find James in the hall, slumped across one of the couches with his arms behind his head and his ankles crossed over one armrest. "Hey kids," he greets them, glancing up as he hears the footsteps.

"Have you been here the whole time?" she questions. He shrugs.

"Figured you two'd want some privacy. Hey, by the way, so was it a yes in the end?"

It takes her a couple seconds to understand what he's talking about. Then she remembers the conversation they had on the balloon and her face catches fire a little. "Oh Arceus—"

"What was a yes?" Ash asks, frowning. She closes her fists and marches towards the videophones on the wall.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Live with the mystery." She sits in front of one of the phones. "Both of you."

She lifts the receiver and there she pauses, a slight knot in her belly. Her fingers linger on the keypad. Be very careful, okay?, she remembers Brock telling her. I don't think I can deal with being worried out of my mind for both of you at once. Ash reaches her, stopping a few steps back.

She dials the number.

The phone on the other side only rings a couple times before she hears the click of the receiver being picked up. On the screen Brock's face comes into view and immediately freezes: his mouth falls open. There's purple shadows under his eyes, she can't help noticing, and the stubble on his chin looks to be at least a couple days old. For a few moments he can only gape at her. "...Oh," he exhales then. "Oh Arceus. It's you. You're—you're alive."

"Hi, Brock," she tries. He looks at her still, his eyes falling on her bruised lip. He lifts them back to hers and shakes his head.

"Where are you? Are you—are you okay?"

"At the pokémon center in Pewter City. And yes, more or less."

"And...?"

The question hangs palpable in the air without daring to leave his mouth fully. Misty glances back at Ash. When he hesitates she rolls her eyes, and without further ceremony reaches for his arm and pulls him into the frame.

"...Hey Brock," he manages to say, after a brief awkward pause. Brock stares for a second. Then sits down hard and his hand rises to his forehead, pressing against his temples. She can see it shake.

"Arceus," he says again. "I should be furious with both of you but right now I'm just—I can't believe you're both alive. What happened? No, wait, don't tell me. I'm coming there. The pokémon center here in Pewter, you said? Five minutes and I'll be there. Don't leave, okay? Don't you dare leave, I'm extremely serious."

He doesn't even wait for her to reply, just slams the phone down. She's left staring at the blank screen. "...Well," she lets out after a beat. "One down, I guess." She presses her fingers to the hook and sighs again, a bit. "Now my sister."

—-

Brock scolds both of them thoroughly. First though he hugs her, and then turns to Ash and his hand stops mid-air for a clumsy, stretched moment, unsure but wanting, hoping. Ash tenses slightly; but pulls his lips then into the smallest of encouraging smiles, allowing the hand to fall on his shoulder in a pat.

"Do you think we're really—safe now?" she asks a good half an hour later, when they're done telling him everything. Her voice stumbles on that word as if meeting a foreign concept. It must feels the same to Brock as well, because for a while he just strokes his chin, his glance lost towards the floor.

"Well, Giovanni is—he's gone, that's for sure," he says finally, and at Ash's brow creases at that like he's still trying to wrap his mind around it. He shakes his head. "Who knows if... someone might want to avenge his death now, or something like that. Whatever might happen, though, Ash—please let us help, okay? Don't cut us out again." He sighs, but his tone softens at the same time. "I think Misty's more than abundantly proved that you're not going to get rid of us anyway, no matter how hard you try."

"I didn't want that," Ash grumbles. Brock watches him expectantly. He breathes, hugging his knees a little closer: "Fine. I won't."

Brock gives him a smile. "How are you feeling, anyway? I mean now, after... all that?"

He seems to consider the question. Actually consider it this once, not just shrug it off with a tacked-on I'm fine. "I dunno," he says in the end. His cheek works, like he's biting down at it. "I'm tired. And I miss Pikachu. And my—and my mom. Her too."

"You can see them soon," she tells him. Brock looks to her.

"And you?"

She's not really sure what to answer: she's spent the past night doing her best to avoid the thought. She can feel Ash's eyes turn towards her.

"I'll be okay," she says again to them both. For now it's what she can afford.

—-

James insists on giving them a couple last rides. First to Cerulean City, to pick up Pikachu and Togepi: by the time they get off the balloon it's dark again, and the sign at the gym's door is again flipped to CLOSED, only a few lit-up windows to dot the building. When she pushes the knob though she finds the door open still. She makes a mental note to reprimand Daisy for it, remembering how she warned her to be careful.

And speaking of Daisy: the moment they walk in she drops the mop she was holding and just about bowls into her, squeezing her in a hug so tight she almost can't breathe. Through the golden cloud of her hair she sees Pikachu fling himself from the hallway and into Ash's arms. "Don't ever, ever do something like that again," her sister shrills into her ear. Her hands find her shoulders, pushing back to look at her. "Do you like, have any idea how worried I was when I found your letter?! And what happened to your face?"

Misty blinks a bit. "...It's nothing. I'm fine," she assures her. "And I'm sorry. But you were right. I found him."

Daisy's eyes follow hers and only then she seems to fully register Ash's presence. The worried scowl fades from her face, replaced by something nearing disbelief. He stands back up from where he'd kneeled, still holding Pikachu.

"...Hi," he says, a little awkwardly. She looks him up and down.

"Wow. This is, like, really really weird," she comments after a couple moments, shaking her head. Then brings her hands to her hips and her brow draws back into a frown: "Well, I must tell you that I really hope you're not planning to disappear on my sister again. Two times was more than enough already."

For a second Ash stares back at her. "...Yeah, um. I wasn't planning to," he says then. Misty sighs.

"It's okay, Daisy. I've already scolded him enough. You can leave him alone."

Daisy takes her attention back to her. "Are you sure you're okay? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Only a little." She takes a breath. "Daisy, listen... I know I've already asked you a lot, but do you mind taking care of the gym for another few days? I'd like to accompany Ash back to Pallet."

The corners of Daisy's mouth take on a slight pained crease, but she nods. "Only if you promise me that I won't have to stay up at night wondering if you're alive anymore. But at least stop for tonight first, okay? All of you." She looks to Ash and Brock, then to the window. "Even your... weird friend, if he wants."

Misty nods back.

—-

She finds her old sleeping bag and unrolls it on the floor. "You can have the bed," she tells Ash. He tries to protest, but gives in when she ignores him and slips into her sleeping bag anyway.

For a while after that she lies awake, listening to the occasional rustling of blankets as he turns. Minutes pass: an hour maybe, or two. Eventually sleep gets the best of him and his breathing evens into a quiet, regular rhythm. She's no less exhausted herself, but every time her eyes begin to drift closed she sees the man's face inches away from hers and jolts back awake, her heart in her throat. Togepi snuggles into her arms. But even holding it tight sleep doesn't come easier.

So she's awake when Ash's breath catches and hastens, at first only a little, then enough to sound like he's drowning. His blankets rustle again, harder. Misty sits up. Finds the switch of her nightlamp and flips it on.

In the dim light that fills the room he's a small trembling shape, his face a cramp, his brow glistening with sweat. His lips move as she watches him, forming silent words. "I won't," comes out of his throat suddenly, squeezed in between gasps, and Pikachu emerges from the sheets and looks at him in alarm. "I won't do it. Please. P—"

Misty's hand lingers mid-air a moment. Two. Then she closes it around his shoulder.

Ash's eyes fly open and she can feel his muscles tense at her touch, ready to react, to strike—but he sees her and freezes. She strokes his shoulder a bit.

"It's okay," she tells him. "It's just me. You don't have to do anything."

His breath unhitches. He rolls to his back and drops an arm over his sweaty forehead, managing a wavery approximation of a smile when Pikachu scurries up to him and licks his face. "Sorry," he says. His chest heaves. "Didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay. I wasn't sleeping anyway."

He says nothing. She lets another few moments pass. Then asks, "Want me to keep you company for a bit?"

But he shakes his head. "I'm fine. Just another dream."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He doesn't quite look at her, though. "Sorry. Get back to sleep."

Her eyes linger on him for a second longer, but she lies back down into her sleeping bag and reaches for the switch to turn the light off. She hears the ruffle of the sheets as he turns, probably curling back up. For a while there's silence. He's awake, though: she can hear his breath still a little ragged, struggling to find its rhythm again. For a bit she stares at the ceiling in the dark.

"What were you dreaming?" she tries asking. Even from the tiniest shift at her left she can feel him shutter, close up like a blind, and she's almost sure he won't answer. Instead then she hears him take a deeper breath.

"He—Giovanni—" His voice stutters in his throat and he pauses, trying to still it. "When I went back he—he wanted me to kill you."

Misty's stomach turns into an icy lump. The sheets sigh. "He knew you left the gym looking for me," he says. "He wanted you dead for it. And he wanted me to be the one to—" Another halt, stretching longer. "Sometimes I dream that he's making me hurt someone. This time it was—it was you."

Her mouth is dry when she swallows. "But that didn't happen, did it?" she tells him though. "You didn't hurt me. I'm fine."

For a few moments he's silent. Then: "Brock could be right. Someone could—want revenge for what I did."

"If they do we'll all face them with you. They won't stand a chance." She's very careful not to let on how much that possibility terrifies her as well. "And they won't be Giovanni."

Silence again. "No," he says after a second, almost like the realization just hit him all over again. "They won't be him."

She turns towards him. She can make out his silhouette in the glow of the clock on her nightstand, and she stretches out one hand and closes it around his. He holds onto it like it's an anchor, or maybe it's her who's doing that. "Sleep," she tells him, soft, before letting go.

She does that too finally, for a while. Come dawn though she's awake again, her hair plastered to her cheeks in clumps, a scream trapped in her throat. She blinks at the ceiling expecting to see the man's face, expecting to feel his blood run down her— her—

But there's nothing. There's nothing and she's not new to nightmares, and she lets the scream go in a breath, all squeezed up and shaky. She sits up. Togepi is asleep and so is Ash, Pikachu's tail peeking from under his arm. She doesn't want to wake them up again, so she slips out of her sleeping bag as quietly as she can and tiptoes to across the room, tucking her hair back behind her ear with unsteady fingers. She pushes the door open: she walks past her sister's bedroom. Past the living room where Brock and James are sleeping too.

The pool reflects the light from the window in pinkish ripples. It's still empty this early in the morning—her pokémon are asleep in their pokéballs or the aquariums. She sits on the edge and for a time just stares at it, the claws of her nightmare still scratching at the back of her mind. Finally she hides her face against her knees and cries for a bit, with only the water to hear.

—-

Ash is standing in front of her mirror when she goes back to her room, his glance lowered towards something. She walks closer, curious: he's holding the picture she kept there, looking down at it with a slight furrow to ripple is forehead.

"It was in Johto," she tells him, stopping at his side. "Remember?"

He nods. "Yeah," he says, and in his voice there's a hint of a trepidation she doesn't quite catch entirely, a longing, maybe. He turns to look at her. His frown deepens after a blink. "You okay? Were you crying?"

She shakes her head. "I just didn't sleep much. Wanna go eat some breakfast? James said if we leave early maybe he can get us to Pallet within the day."

He looks unconvinced, but nods again. He sets the photo down. His eyes still linger on it for a second as he turns, his fingertips trailing over their joined hands.

—-

When they can finally make out the small scatter of lights of Pallet Ash's chest squeezes tight. It's well past the sunset—they've been flying all day without stopping. Pikachu climbs on his shoulder to see and points a paw towards them with an excited "Pika!": look.

He's looking. His breath catches a little. Misty leans next to him to the edge of the basket, wind blowing her hair on her face. "Almost there," comes James' voice, the roar of the burner a steady blasting sound.

"I spoke with your mother on the phone this morning before we left," Brock says. Ash glances at him.

"You did?"

"I didn't want to keep her waiting longer before knowing that you're okay." Brock smiles. "She's waiting for us. She's at Professor Oak's lab."

Ash says nothing. He turns back to the lights with his throat closed by a wet fluttery lump, watching them grow closer, closer, almost within reach of his hand.

They land atop the hill. The wind turbine of Professor Oak's laboratory is a tall shape against the starry sky, dark and slowly moving, but there's light still on behind the building's windows, even if it's probably past midnight by now. James clears his voice.

"Well kids, guess this is where I say goodbye. No offense, but I hope it's a while before I see your faces again."

Misty looks at him and a smile creeps to the corners of her lips. She takes a step towards him: throws her arms around him in a brief hug, and he jumps back near-immediately, frantically waving his hands in the air and red enough in the face that the darkness doesn't make it any less obvious. "H-hey kid, that—that's—"

"Thank you," she just tells him. "I'd never have done it without your help."

He strokes the back of his neck. "...Yeah. Um. Glad to be of service."

"Thank Jessie and Meowth too, okay?"

"Will do," he promises. Then looks at all of them, his glance stopping on Ash last. "Stay out of trouble, kids."

The flame of the burner flares high, taking the balloon back up into the night sky. "Ready?" Misty asks him as his eyes leave it. He takes a breath. Nods.

The grass whispers underfoot. Misty knocks on the door, and from the other side comes the patter of hurried footsteps, the clatter of shaky fingers fumbling with the latch.

His mother looks at him. A moment; then she's stepped towards him and her hands are at his shoulders, but there she stops, not touching him but with a silent can I? filling her eyes. He manages another nod. Only then she gathers him into a hug, eager and warm and trembling, and Ash's muscles go stiff but he gets his fists to fall lose after a second—gets himself to hug back, a little. He can hear her draw an almost-sob at that.

"What happened to you?!" she wants to know. She takes his face in her hands and steps back to see him in the light pouring from inside, her mouth wavering at the sight of the bruises. Her eyes run to Misty next and she stretches a hand towards her as well, lays it on her cheek, her thumb resting near her battered lip. "And you! Oh..."

Ash swallows. "Just—a little bump in the road," he tells her. Breathes: "He's—he's not going to hurt me anymore now mom, don't worry. He won't ever hurt anyone else."

He can see the questions crowding on her face, but she steps aside to let them in first. Mimey does the same, half-hidden behind her skirt. Ash's eyes run over the anteroom of the laboratory, his stomach lurching some in anticipation: he sees Professor Oak first, staring back at him with his mouth hanging open like he forgot how to close it. Next to him Tracey sits down on the first thing he can find, his expression a near-spitting image of the older man's.

He was not expecting Gary. He's standing in the doorway and looking at him with a glare that might as well be murderous—if not for the fact that there's tears in his eyes. Ash kicks the floor a bit.

"...Hey," he says. And: "I heard you threw away a league victory for me."

Gary's brings an unsteady hand to his face and presses his brow into his palm, hard. "I—" he starts; and then he can't say anything else.

His mother's hand is at his shoulder again. "We have a lot to talk about," she says, her voice all wavery and thin. "All of us. But first—come inside and sit. Rest. You must be tired from the journey."

Rest sounds nice. The bumpy day-long flights weren't especially kind on his aching ribs. He lets her lead him towards the hallway, turning briefly to meet Misty and Brock's glances, Pikachu's weight a comforting constant on his other shoulder. And maybe, he finds himself thinking, even though just being surrounded by so many eyes all staring and all wanting feels so overwhelming he could crumple to the floor, maybe: maybe Misty is right. Maybe he can try after all. At least try.

—-

"Ready to see them?"

The morning sun shines low on the horizon, almost blinding to the eye as he takes in the whole of the laboratory's preserve. "I am," he answers after a couple moments, his voice faltering the tiniest bit, and she smiles and tosses the armful of pokéballs into the air.

His pokémon materialize on the grass around them in a scatter of bright red flashes. There's staring, of course—lots of it. Before the pause can hang on long enough to become unbearable though Bayleef's started running towards him and she's tackled him eagerly enough to throw him off his feet, and then Bulbasaur's on him too, and Totodile, and his bruises yell louder than ever but they're all hugging him and licking his face and his chest feels full and bubbly and—oh. Laughter. He's laughing.

Misty squeezes in and gently nudges Bayleef aside a little. "Come on guys, I know you're happy to see him, but try not to crush him, alright?"

He doesn't mind. The grass tickles the back of his neck and Bulbasaur keeps licking his face, and maybe, he lets himself think again, maybe—

—-

—maybe not. Late in the afternoon Misty finds him sitting upstairs in the dark, back to the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. Her steps halt and then hasten: "Ash?" She crouches down at his side, her fingers only barely brushing his shoulder. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answers, but it comes out all twisted up and wrong. She doesn't believe it, of course. He forces himself to breathe: "It's just—my mom keeps worrying and asking if I'm okay, and the professor, too, and Tracey, and even Gary came over twice and they all—everyone wants to make sure I'm okay, and I don't—"

He pauses. She waits, looking at him. "I don't—I don't know how to give them that," he finishes. He bites the inside of his cheek. "I don't know if I'm okay."

She's silent for a second. "That's alright," she tells him then. He scoffs some.

"Really."

"Yes." She takes the hand away, resting it on her knee. "Being okay again after—after you've been not okay is... it takes time, Ash. It's hard. Really. You need to make an effort, but you don't have to be okay right off the bat. No one expects you to be. We all just want you to know that you can count on us if you're not."

He says nothing. "Do you want me leave you alone too?" she asks.

He bites down harder. Shakes his head.

"I'll just sit here with you for a bit then," she says, and does just that. For a while neither of them speaks.

"You know," she tells him then. She leans her head against the wall, her hands laced around her ankles. "Your mom told me something once."

"My mom?"

"Yeah." Her eyes wander a little. "She said that at first after something hurts you it's like when you break a glass. If you try to hold a piece it keeps cutting your hand no matter what. But then when time passes it's like when that piece of glass has been in the sea for a while, and the waves start to smooth all the sharp bits off. So it cuts a little less, and eventually maybe it'll get to the point when it doesn't anymore." She pauses for a moment. "But it takes time. So it's okay if you still get cut now. It really is."

He mulls over her words, silent still. Peeks at the slightly hardened lines of her profile after a bit, wondering how much the broken glass he stuck in her hand too still cuts.

And then later that night he's awake way past the time he should be, the darkness still too unnerving to close his eyes, and so he hears the sudden gasping breath coming from the bedroll on the floor and the ones after, hurriedly muffled into a hand or the pillow. He listens, frowning: he hears something else after a minute, a breath still but too swooping and ragged. A sob.

He pushes his blanket aside. Trying not to wake up Pikachu, he finds the first step of the ladder under his foot and begins to climb down, stopping in his tracks when it creaks way too loudly. In the bedroll Misty is facing away from him, her hands clasped around her mouth, and her shoulders are jumping a little and yep, she's definitely crying, and there's no way she hasn't heard him but she doesn't turn, doesn't move at all save for the small hiccups rattling her shape.

He hesitates there a moment, then another, not knowing what to do. In the end he hops to the floor and crouches down near the bedroll. His fingers hover over her shoulder a bit. Touch it then, only just barely, following its slope towards her neck. Her hair.

"Misty," he whispers. "Hey."

She takes her hand off her mouth slightly and mutters, "What?"

"You, huh—" he starts asking, then stops, remembering their conversation from earlier. She's obviously not okay, he can tell as much, so he swallows and instead he asks: "What's wrong?"

Misty sniffles. Wipes the back of her hand over her eyes and breathes, trying to hold the sobs back down. "Nothing. I told you. I—I have nightmares too sometimes." She pauses and then shakily attempts a joking tone: "At least now—I get some variety, I guess."

Ash bites his lip. He's quiet for a few seconds. "The other morning," he says then. "When I asked if you were crying. Were you?"

A brief hesitation. "Yeah."

"Why did you say no?"

She shrugs. "You've got enough you're feeling guilty for already. You didn't need to take on this too."

Ash's stomach squeezes painfully. He sits down on the floor and breathes, slowly. "You keep helping me," he tells her after a couple moments. The words feel heavy in his chest. "Like today. And with most of the bad things I did I can't—there's nothing I can do to make it better. I can't make up to the people I hurt in any way. I can't—I can't even apologize. Probably never will." He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the ladder. "So if there's at least some way I can help you—please—"

He stops. The sheets rustle. When he dares to look again she's watching him too, her eyes still wet with tears. "Can I?" he asks. "Help?"

She looks at him for a blink still; then scoots aside a little, making some space. Sniffles again: "Just lie here a bit, would you?"

His chest gives a strange stuttering flutter, but he slips into the bedroll, trying not to elbow her or Togepi in the face. Her toes are cold. The rest of her is warm. She snuggles against him the tiniest bit, catching a breath in a small hiccuping sound: maybe she's just trying to get into a more comfortable position. For a while he lies stiff at her side. But when her hand bumps into his he gingerly takes it, and together they wait for the rest of the night to pass.

—-

The pokégear rings one last time. It's early morning and Ash is taking a shower, and Brock is downstairs helping his mother with breakfast, so only Misty is there to hear the sudden muffled sound. She pauses for a second, the hairbrush Mrs. Ketchum lent her in one hand. Her heart jumps into her throat a little. She turns.

She kneels next to her backpack and finds the device. Flips it open: Mrs. R's face comes into view as the screen lights up. For a moment they just stare at each other. Then the woman clears her voice.

"I wasn't sure if you'd still still have the pokégear."

"I wasn't sure if I should keep it."

The woman nods. "I've heard many contradictory things about what happened at the Team Rocket headquarters four days ago," she says. "But I'm not wrong in assuming you were involved, am I?"

Misty bites the inside of her cheek a bit. "Ash killed Giovanni," she tells her. "I set the building on fire so we could escape. Well, James did, but I told him to."

Mrs. R's glance trails briefly in consideration. She shakes her head then, adjusting her glasses. "Well, while I do still find your actions bordering on suicidal, I won't hide that I am impressed. And I think I owe you a thank you. Giovanni's departure releases me from any obligation I had towards him and the organization."

"What's going to happen now?" Misty wants to know. "I mean is Team Rocket—gone? Just like that?"

"Unlikely." One word's enough to make her stomach sink. "The sudden loss of its leader has no doubt been a hard blow, but Team Rocket is far too spread to just fade to nothing. You may have cut off its head, but many of its tentacles are still thriving. What's probably going to happen now is that someone else is going to try and fill Giovanni's vacant seat as your friend was supposed to and take the reins of what's left, but without him there to control the succession process that's probably going to bring about many an in-fight. I have little doubt that the organization will survive that as well, but it may come out furtherly weakened and fragmented."

Misty swallows. "And—what does that mean for us? Should we be worried? Could someone want to avenge Giovanni's death, or...?"

The question hangs in the air. The woman looks at her: almost gently, her glance softened by a hint of something that almost looks like fondness. "As I told you," she says, "there are currently many contradictory accounts circulating on how things went. And having my suspicions about the truth, which you just confirmed, I have taken the liberty of mudding the waters further spreading some fake rumors of my own. Currently the most accredited version is that both the arson and Giovanni's assassination were part of a plan orchestrated by an emerging rival organization. Far more believable than it being the doing of two children alone, don't you concur? Not to mention as far as I can tell not many actually knew the identity of the boss's son, and most of those who did, the higher-ups, are probably going to have their hands full with damage control for a long while. If they aren't aiming for Giovanni's chair themselves." A pause. "You should be safe enough."

For a second Misty revels in the information. A second. "But—the cameras. They were everywhere, no way there aren't recordings of what we did—"

"Conveniently destroyed in the fire," Mrs. R stops her. She doesn't say outright what that conveniently means, but the way her eyes pointedly lock into hers is enough. Misty doesn't know what to say at first. How to even fully take in that notion, either, that they might really be safe at last.

She breathes. "Thank you," she says. The woman waves it away with a nod of her head.

"With Giovanni gone the deal we had is null, so once this conversation is over you'll never hear from me again," she continues. "And I would like not to hear from you or any of your friends, either. I would also like you to get rid of this device."

"I will," Misty promises. Then asks: "Is you family okay?"

"Aye."

"Even—" a brief hesitation. "Abbie?"

Mrs. R's face clouds. "I have yet to see or hear from her since what happened with you. But she'll turn up eventually. For what it's worth, I tell you she'll have to earn my forgiveness."

Misty says nothing for a moment. "Can I know your name?" she asks next, not really expecting an answer. She doesn't get one: the old woman just looks back at her and smiles slightly, her eyes golden mirrors behind the lens of her glasses.

"You don't need anything more from me, child," she says. And on that she hangs up.

Misty stares at the black screen for a while. Then closes a hand around it; takes a breath. Pushes back until the plastic snaps.

—-

The night air is dry and crisp. Ash cranes his head back and looks at the canopy of stars above: still far, far away. But perhaps a little bit less so now that Giovanni's shadow is no longer looming over him. He's gone, he remembers Misty saying as she held him: gone. He stretches one hand and looks at it against the sky, looks at his five fingers reaching. Pikachu looks with him.

The window swings open. "You know," comes Misty's voice after a moment, "it would be nice of you to stop disappearing while I'm asleep."

"Sorry," he tells her. "Wasn't trying to disappear." He hears a little sigh.

"What are you doing up there?"

"Thinking."

"You're going to fall and break your neck. I'm not coming to your funeral twice."

"I'm not gonna fall," he retorts. And then: "Come up here. It's nice."

A second goes by. Then the window creaks again and she climbs onto the roof, carefully making her way towards him with her arms spread at her sides. "Aren't you cold?" she asks, and her hand briefly rubs his arm as she sits, as if to try and warm him up even if he didn't say yes. He gives a small shrug.

"I'm fine," he answers. She doesn't say anything. Just hugs her ankles and looks up as well, towards the stars twinkling above their heads. "Are you still mad?" he asks her after a bit.

Her glance darts to him. "For disappearing in the middle of the night to go face your death? Yeah. Of course I'm still mad," she retorts. But her face softens then, and her voice as well. "But I'm glad that I can be mad. I'm glad you're here."

He can feel his lips twitch into a hint of a smile. "How are you? Aside from mad?"

She doesn't answer right away this time. She turns back ahead and the lines of her face tighten slightly, her eyes reflecting the night sky. "I killed two people," she says finally, almost matter-of-fact. Ash lowers his glance towards the garden.

"I've killed one for sure. Maybe more. Who knows with—all the people I've hurt." He swallows. "And I've hurt countless. Most of them did nothing to deserve it."

Misty looks at him. "And how are you?"

"I'm—" A breath. "Trying."

"Guess I'm trying too," she sighs. For a while neither adds anything.

"I was thinking..." he says then, but his voice trails hesitantly, not quite daring to pull the concept out of his head. Misty gives him a curious look. He breathes again, in and out. "Maybe I'd like—to try traveling again. Not right now," he quickly adds. "I still wanna stay home a bit first. My mom still thinks what happened was her fault. I want to make sure she knows it's not before I go anywhere. And there's the whole thing to make me not-dead legally, my mom and the professor are still trying to get that done without drawing any attention and I dunno how long that'll take..."

He pauses again. He can feel her eyes still on him. Pikachu's, too. "But once that'll all be taken care of—I'd like to—" A gust of wind rises briefly, blowing his hair on his neck. "I mean, now that we know that we're probably safe—I never got to finish challenging the gyms in Johto. And I should probably prove that I really did deserve Gary's trophy, shouldn't I?"

Silence. His chest feels lighter than it has in ages. When he turns to her she's smiling: "I think that's a great idea," she tells him. "You should do that."

But he's not done. "I wanted to ask, if—when—I decide to go, would you—come with me?" He closes his eyes before he can see her reaction. "I'd like it," he adds. "If you came."

She's silent still for a couple moments. "I'll have to think about it a bit," she says then. "And talk to my sisters. I don't want to just abandon the gym. I have a responsibility, and I like what I managed to do there." Her hand finds his. "But I'd like to travel with you again, too. I'd really like that."

She's still smiling when he looks. "We still need to have that battle, anyway. I didn't get to kick your ass yet," she teases. "And you need to meet Brock's girlfriend."

"Think he'd wanna come too? Brock?"

"I'm sure. He could start his studies while we're on the road. Maybe even get some field practice."

Ash glances down at their hands. There's something else he'd like to tell her; something that feels like a warmth, like coming home. Starting to. But he doesn't know how to put that feeling into words.

"I—missed you," he ends up saying. That's not it, not quite. But she looks at him, her smile a little quivery now at the corners, and she scoots closer and lays an arm around his back. She pulls him to her side, leaning her cheek against his hair.

"Come here," she whispers. Her voice falters just a bit. "I missed you too, stupid. You have no idea how much."

And he still can't find the right words; but she keeps her arm around him, and after a while she kisses his hair again, and this time he's sure, he didn't imagine it. So maybe she feels that too.

—-

(Days go by, slowly slowly. One night they hear a rustling outside the window and when Misty cautiously opens it there's a package the size of a lunchbox hovering above the front door. They both look up, along the almost invisible thread of fishing line lowering it and towards underside of the basket of a very familiar balloon. "Should we tell 'em we've seen them?" Ash asks, his brow scrunched into a frown.

"Nah. Let them believe they're the stealthiest cookie-gifters in Kanto," she says, and he laughs a little at that, and in that moment she's sure it was worth it all.

Days: a week. She flies back to Cerulean City. Speaks on the phone with Lily and Violet and explains everything to them as well, interrupted by about three hundreds questions. She and Daisy sit by the pool and talk after that, talk for a very long time.

"The gym is always going to be yours too," Daisy tells her. "You can like, come back whenever you want and pick it right back up if you trust us to run it again for a bit. You should do whatever makes you happy. You really deserve to be happy, sis'.")

—-

The trees around the house are almost all orange now. The morning is warm, though, and Pikachu perches on his shoulder and offers his face to the sun for a couple seconds. "Pika?" he asks then. Ready?

Ash nods. His mother steals another hug from him, tight and smelling like the breakfast they just finished eating. "Please be careful, honey," she tells him one more time, her voice all twisted up and tearful. "And call me. And if you feel like it's too much and want to come back home, that's okay, alright?"

"Alright," he says, and his voice shakes too, just a tiny bit. "You try not to worry too much."

"I make no promises. And here. I found this."

She's holding his old hat. "It was in the back of your closet," she adds, and places it on his head, looking at him for another few moments after. He gives her a smile.

"See you, mom."

"See you, Mrs. Ketchum."

She's got hugs and recommendations for Misty and Brock too. After that she stands on the threshold, sniffling and waving goodbye with Mimey next to her. Ash turns to wave back one more time; then at the fence he stops, looking at the road stretching ahead. Wind rustles the trees.

The gravel of the walkway creaks. Misty stops at his side, looking with him. "Ready to go?" she asks, holding Togepi in one arm.

His heart is running fast. It's never going to be like before, he knows that. The past year is never going to go away, it can't just be scrubbed off like muddy footprints on the floor. He's still going to wake up screaming, thought it's starting to be not quite every night anymore. Still going to want to strike back whenever a hand comes too close. Even should he forget all that for a moment, all he's gotta do is glance down at the marks on his arms to remember. He's sure the same goes for her as well.

But they can try together.

He breathes. Reaches for the brim of his hat and turns it around. Then turns towards her and pulls his lips into another tentative smile, taking her hand in his to tug her out of the garden. She seems to find it an answer enough.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

(A/N: Oh my God, I can't believe I finished it. I'm free! And a bit sad. A little over a year ago I had a really cool dream that involved Ash showing up at Misty's door after having been believed dead. I then wrote that scene, and posted it on tumblr with the title "Sample of a fic I'm probably not writing". Nearly 120k words later, clearly I can say everything went according to plan.
I'm rather proud of getting here for a few reasons: I hadn't written anything remotely this long in years. I hadn't written anything this long, and managed to update it more or less regularly, in... I don't even know if I ever did, actually. The longest thing I had ever written in English before, barring translations of stuff originally written in my first language, amounted to less than 4k words—this is about thirty times as much. And lastly, while I'd rather not go into detail, a lot of this story and its themes are very personal to me.
I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who read, bookmarked an commented on it. For the reasons above it was also a hard project to work on, and while I have a... somewhat hard time engaging with feedback—in short, I don't ever know how to respond to it—it was very helpful in actually completing it. I hope it was an enjoyable read! Or at least not too big a disappointment. And if you were waiting for an actual kiss... sorry ^^; I don't think they're emotionally ready for that yet. I hope how they feel about each other still comes across, though.
See you some other time!)