James remebers the first time he really spoke to Jessie. Not the forced conversations of training, but a true conversation. They had been hiking to the checkpoint during the beginning of their twenty-four hour challenge, and were deep into the woods when they suddenly emerged into a meadow. It was filled with flowers of all kinds, and James, being who he was, immediately began laughing happily and, there was no other word for it, frolicking, through them. He could hear his teammates groan in unison, and soon enough his fun was interrupted by the stomping of boots.

Jessie grabbed him and whirled him to face her, the blush staining her cheeks evidence of her rage.

"James!" she snapped, "We're in the middle of a contest! This is no time to play in an overgrown garden!"

"But...they're pretty," he replied timidly, cringing when he saw her eyes narrow.

"James," she growled, and that was the only warning he got before being pummeled into the ground.

Head spinning, he stood to follow her. They walked on, quickly reaching the edge of the field. Suddenly she stopped, and he and Meowth nearly plowed into her back. They peered around her, curious as to what caused her to freeze. There in front of her, stood a single red rose. James didn't understand. Hadn't she just said the flowers were unimportant?

He watched as she crouched down, fingers gently caressing the velvety petals. He stepped to her side, both to see better and to get away from the grouchy pokemon that was the third teammate. Tears welled in the woman's eyes, and though he hadn't known her long, he grew concerned.

"Jessie? You okay?" he asked, hoping he wouldn't get another beating. She didn't answer, simply staring at the flower. "Jessie?"

It was silent for several minutes, the only sound the light wind ruffling the leaves on the trees.

"It's my favorite flower," a feminine voice whispered somewhat sadly, startling the lavender haired man. It took him a moment to realize it was his partner's voice, so normally hard and flat, speaking with such emotion. "It's so simple, yet so beautiful."

"Why is it your favorite?" he asked quietly, afraid to break the moment.

"It reminds me of my mother. It's so delicate, but so dangerous. The thorns protect it from danger but it represents love. That was my mother, dangerous but beautiful and loving."

She blinked, and the spell was broken. Her eyes hardened once again, showing no trace of emotion, and James knew it was a moment to be forgotten and never again mentioned.

"What are you two waiting for? Let's go!" Jessie snapped, already in motion. He followed behind loyally, though he would glance over his shoulder every few seconds until the field was out of sight.

...

James never mentioned the incident in the field, not even after they'd passed training and become agents, and eventually friends. But he never forgot it either. That was why when, every time they did their motto, he held a rose. It was his subtle way of letting her know he hadn't forgotten, and that he cared. He always gave it to her after they had been blasted off, enjoying the happiness it usually brought. And though he'd never admit it, he compared Jessie to the rose as she had her mother, dangerous but beautiful.

That was why, when she was truly upset, he would call her his rose. At first she had hated it, but over time it became his nickname for her, a secret way to calm her down and let her know everything would turn out all right. And secretly, she loved it, though she would never admit it. It made her feel as though she belonged, as though she had a family. So as the years passed and the name Rose stuck, she would secretly smile, enjoying the attention and the feeling of security that accompanied the title.