disclaimer: i don't own anything!

notes: this fic is dedicated to my friend simona and her powerful ass mind. i was inspired by the song "home" by edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros.

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"home is wherever i'm with you"

They are young on their adventure, visiting Pallet before the upcoming Pokemon League.

It started with a promise made to Delia Ketchum, from her son Ash and his friend Misty, to tidy up the attic. Ash asked for his old collection of trading cards from before he left on his journey, to which his mom pointed to the upstairs attic, with an unreadable smile on her face. Before Ash and Misty could even realize, they were crawling around in dust as Brock and Mrs. Ketchum started on supper. Both Pikachu and Togepi abandoned their trainers for treats and warm pillows.

"We got bamboozled," Ash whines, rubbing his eyes in irritation from the dust circulating around them. They are sit alone in the dimness of the attic, feeling uneasy at the sight of heirlooms that only a country home would have hidden away.

Misty rolls her water eyes at him, putting a wash cloth in his hand as she holds up a feather duster. "No, you got us bamboozled."

The ten-year old groans and throws himself on the wooden floor earning a large squeak with every movement. "I just want my trading cards!"

She finds a corner and begins cleaning. "The quicker we get started, the quicker we can get out of here."

"But Misty-"

"Don't you 'Misty' me," she tells him. "Don't you want to help out your mom?"

"Of course, I love my mom," he pouts. She waves the duster in his face in warning. "Then get to cleaning!"

Ash groans outwardly, wiping down whatever was around him with quick motions. Boxes upon boxes of miscellaneous treasures, memories, and straight up junk collected over the years. Misty shuffles around, eyeing old picture frames covered in a thin layer of dust.

She picks up an old frame that laid atop of box of photo albums, eyeing how withered the photograph looked. It was a photo of a younger man with dark hair and a toothy smile. He looked happy and familiar to her. Like a face she'd find on an old movie poster from a decade ago.

Misty holds up the frame up towards the slight source of light coming from an itsy window in the corner of the room. She catches sight of Ash's confused face staring intently at her. Then, realization hits.

"What's wrong?" Ash asks, crawling over and taking a seat beside her.

"Nothing," Misty fibs. "It's just that, I was looking at this."

The boy reaches over her and runs his finger over the photo, wiping away at the gray film covering. He gives the picture behind the glass an ambivalent smile.

"I haven't seen this face in a while," Ash admits, a hint of sadness lacing his tongue. "Mom put these up here a long time ago…"

His head hangs low as he focuses on the photo.

She looks at the boy who suddenly seemed eons beyond her. His presence seems unrecognizable. Tears were shed when Butterfree was sent away, and Misty has often seen him stomp his foot at losing a battle.

This, however, felt different.

The attic was silent till the tiny sound of drops pelting the frame echoed between them. Misty watches his big brown eyes shake, brimming with tears.

She pales.

"Ash," she says with concern, voice quiet. "Ash, you're crying."

"Huh?" His calloused fingertips reach for his now wet cheeks. "Oh."

Empathetic eyes settle on Ash's face, but it hangs down. He lets out a strained chuckle, pressing the palm of his hand to his left eye. "The dust got the best of me."

She frowns. "It's okay to cry."

"Thinking about him doesn't make me feel okay," he responds honestly.

A memory of her parents, tragically together and desperate for an escape, leaving their girls behind causes Misty's thudding chest to ache as she remembers how foolish she felt sobbing that night. How she called for their names and no one answered.

In the attic, they aren't the usual youthful trainers full of fire and spunk. Here they are children left behind by the people who brought them into the world. Misty understood Ash.

"Then for now, you don't have to," she assures, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to explain yourself or make an excuse, you aren't the one who left. Things like this are never easy. Keeping old photos in the attic, hiding away the memories—those things are easy. Remembering them aren't."

To think, not so long ago they vowed to never ever care about one another yet here she was cursing his father's familiar face and cowardice for leaving her friend nothing but his features and heartache. He looks so small now, she thinks. Like she walked into his past and met him the day his father went to pick up a pack of cigarettes, leaving a frail Delia and confused little boy behind.

Ash looks up at her, his deep brown eyes filled with emotion peering into her every sense of empathy. "Did they do it to you too, Misty?"

The redhead appears taken back, not being able to fully remember the last time she ever spoken word of her parents and when they left.

She nods, drawing blood from her cheek from clenching her mouth tightly. "And I still haven't forgiven them."

"I forgave him for our sake," Ash confides in her. "But I still miss him. I….I loved him."

Her nose flares out of growing anger, picturing his father walking away from a little boy. She wishes for the man to face the worst of luck, screaming expensive parking tickets and rainy days into the nothingness.

"It's okay to miss him," she tells him. "It's okay to be angry and sad and wanting to throw it in his face."

"I…don't want to miss him," the boy admits, wiping his runny nose. "Sometimes I think about how when I become a Master all my dad could do is watch from afar. He'll see how I did it without him."

Misty grins, "And you'll do it well."

A small smile breaks across his face. "You—you think so?"

"If you actually stop screwing up during battles."

"Very funny," he states, followed by a shallow laugh.

The boy breathes deeply, pressing his forehead against the nook of her neck as the nerves settle. Slowly, he leans into her and she lets him, blinking in confusion before brushing the back of his head with her fingers. Misty takes note of how much softer his hair felt then it looked, how vulnerable Ash could be. How she secretly wished she was like him, the boy with his heart on his sleeve, able to forgive and cry. This boy, this stranger who made her want to ring his neck, easily became a friend.

There are no jabs to the gut or insults thrown, as they both sit in silence as Ash pieces himself back together. Misty returns to arranging as Ash dusts and they barely finish before dinner. He puts the potrait in the corner of the room, cleaned with a rag and left in the dark.

They don't say a word to Brock, they don't mention the tears. They hold it between them, like a spit handshake promise children use to keep a secret on the playground. Laughter fills the dining room over dinner.

It's warmer now, Misty thinks.

. . .

Dusks falls, and the sky is colored like rainbow sherbet. They left Johto but the memories stay. A memory she was not ready to approach again came to in the form of her old bicycle, orange and fixed, one of the only things of hers that was no hand-me-down. Holding the handlebars felt bittersweet.

Ash, Misty, and Brock stand on the long crossroads with their exposed hearts pumping loudly in their chests. After the abrupt phone call from Cerulean City, Misty felt like the news smacked her in the face. She feels like its hitting Ash slowly, approaching him step by step while Brock accepts reality like an old friend, standing mature for the sake of the younger two.

Togepi chirps as the baby always does while Pikachu puts on a brave face.

From Celadon to Saffron, they've been everywhere together.

Her care and consideration for them bubbled to the surface as she lists off Ash's morning rituals as a reminder, fully knowing how she won't be there anymore to remind him. Telling Brock not to get distracted by pretty girls, knowing that their antics of ear pulling and chuckling about heartache will end eventually.

Through everything they have been through, running freely throughout new adventures side by side, she hopes that no matter the circumstance, Ash does his best. For him to go on, for him to succeed, even without her support she hopes that he doesn't back down. Fortunately, her gut is telling her that he'll truck on without her even if it is a despairing truth.

Things feel so heavy and real, as they reach the point of no return by every step forward. But her eyes linger on Ash, looking an inch and a half taller, telling her that fate was to blame for their friendship and that there are no strange chances between the two of them. That it is no mere coincidence, that he met her out of all people. It made her insides light.

Yet she understands. He looks back at her, eyes warm and earnest, reassuring her that he feels the same. Despite her doubts and her running away at the drop of the news of returning home, she knows that the adventure is not over. That a new path was drawn but it did not fit all three of them. Fate drew a line that leads her in the opposite direction from Ash Ketchum, her annoyance and burden. Her friend.

Man, oh man, her best friend.

It was something she would have to accept for now, as she digs her nails into the soft part of her handlebars to ease tension. Saying goodbye is never easy for us, Misty thinks. But she hopes that there will be another hello down the road. Despite the hopeful outlook and her upcoming journey back to her hometown, looking at Ash for what may be the last time in a long time, made her feel homesick. She swallows the lump in her throat and coughs awkwardly, catching the trainer's attention.

He turns to her, hands clenched at his side looking like he was stepping up for a battle he didn't prepare for.

"Take care, Ash," Misty tells him, facing him head on.

Ash nods, standing tall. "You too, Misty."

"Will…I see you again?"

The color of sea meets the color of earth, eye to eye, and she swears in that moment everything will be okay.

"You will, I swear."

. . .

Departing from a Zeppelin, Misty breathes in the sea salt air that laces Hoenn in attempt to calm that nauseous pit sitting in her stomach. She smiles weakly at the thought of all the paperwork she'd have to return to once her trip ends, but negativity subsides at the thought of who was waiting for her. Her long legs swayed as she raced towards the figures before her.

The boys are in her line of sight, wearing grins as wide as her own and instantly, the nerves coiling around her heart and stomach fading.

Ash Ketchum, his energy and laugh familiar, calls her name waving his hands in the air madly, and at the sight of him it strangely feels like coming home to a brewed tea and warm blanket after a long day at work.

Greeted by the sunshine energy of new faces, as May and Max look at her in awe. Togepi radiates its own joyful energy, sending it to Misty. She accepts it, squeezing Togepi with affection as she anticipates the reunion.

. . .

The ocean-eyed leader boards the Zeppelin empty-handed with nothing but a new memory, her arms missing a familiar warmth. She gives Ash, Brock, May and Max a strong smile, promising them that they would all see each other soon. Her eyes were watery during the initial good-bye between her and her togepi, but now the goodbye is seeping into her, especially now that she had to leave her friends, so they can continue their travels. Tears began brimming the young girl's inky lashes as a salty wet trail slid down her cheek and landed on her lap. Her lap that once held a little cream-colored ball that held her happiness in its innocence.

Misty sits in the aircraft, scrubbing at the trails running down her cheeks. Her nose sniffs, trying to hold back a sob coming from the back of her throat. She holds her knees to her chest, hiding her blotchy face into them as she shakes in her seat.

She wishes she wasn't alone. Wishes that a gloved hand could touch her back and push out every cry, every tremble she was holding within her chest. Instead, it heaved and heaved relentlessly, as she hoped these goodbyes eased with time.

. . .

Gray clouds hang heavy in the sky outside, a thin sheet of rain gracing Saffron City as the droplets blur the lines of the world. Summer brought warm showers to Kanto, to which Misty accepted the rain with love and only minor annoyance.

She cannot believe it was already summer. The seasons are relentless—never waiting on people to catch up on sleep or work. When on her journey, she sometimes found that time itself couldn't touch her and her friends as they hopped from city to town idly. They were youthful then; now, as the seasons pass rapidly, she often reflects on how rapidly time has went since her last encounter with Ash.

From Hoenn to Sinnoh, from Sinnoh to Unova. Ash has traces in all of them, enveloping himself into each culture and people. She hears about it when he sends postcards, letters, and care packages. Misty finds it hilarious how even at his age Ash sucked at technology. His use of emoticons is the most impressive thing, but Misty doesn't want to admit it makes up for the lack of proper spelling. It's so very Ash.

He sends pictures almost every time. Images of people and pokémon in a quaint small town or Pikachu napping on a beach. He sends her loads of his traveling companions and she quickly learns how lucky Ash is to be able to befriend almost anyone. She was somewhat jealous at his capability to vibe with Dawn, Iris, and Cilan—all of them so different but all remain to be dear friends.

Misty tried her best to keep up with every story and image, but the calls and letters decreased little by little as the time went on. Mail gets lost, people get tied up—she understood it all. Even she had to force herself to reply when there was too much work to be done, but she prides herself in knowing she tries. She tries to be there, even when she can't be.

Brock is in a lot of pictures Ash and him, have sent while he still traveled throughout Hoenn and Sinnoh. Now, Brock has been back in their homeland studying day and night on his way to becoming a medical professional for a little more than over a year. At his arrival she welcomed him with opened arms, a slap on the back, and a set of high quality pens for his cram sessions. He pouted at the lack of freedom of the road and chances of meeting pretty women to which Misty poked his ribs, assuring him there will be plenty of pretty women out of his league in Saffron University.

She missed him while her pseudo-brother was away but due to their hectic schedules it was difficult to meet, so she persistently took time to travel into Saffron for lunch dates and sleepovers at his apartment.

Currently, Brock is running a couple of minutes late due to the rain pouring outside. Luckily for Misty, she was sitting comfortably in the café that was ten minutes away from his classroom. Both her and Brock fell in love with its arrangement of coffees and teas and the puffed pastries.

The leader sits by the long windows beside a bunch of succulents, watching the droplets dance on the glass. The outside world looked like a blur to the human eye, but to her it looked full of magic and softness. Misty peaks down at the mustard yellow backpack at her feet, choosing to ignore the paperwork and laptop calling her name from the bag. She groans, kicking the backpack under the table. The gym can wait just a bit for today, she needed her coffee and peace to keep her motivated.

From the corner of her eye, she spots a tall young man dash into the café slightly drenched. He makes his way over to her looking all types of exhausted.

"Yesterday was perfectly sunny so explain to me why it is so ugly out now," Brock groans, quickly reaching to give her hair a quick tousle. "Anyway, it's good to see you perfectly dry."

She giggles, "Umbrellas usually help with that."

"Har har," he spouts, setting down his satchel and books. "Do you want the usual?"

"Can you get a matcha latte for me instead? Feeling adventurous."

"Well you are a wild child," Brock states. He breathes in the scent of warm bread and steps to the counter, making heart eyes at the brunette barista and the arrangement of beautifully crafted carbs all around.

Misty rolls her eyes at him but thinks of a time in Johto they stopped in a coffee shop, young and interested in iced frappuccinos, only for Brock to flirt with the manager and Ash spitting out his mocha frappe because it was slightly bitter. He didn't listen when she insisted that it had coffee in it to which he stuck out his tongue teasingly, and just assumed anything with whipped cream on it had to taste like a milkshake.

Reflecting on those times really put Misty in a strange state. Half of her in love with the past as the other half thinks the future holds just as much promise. The memories often left her grateful that they happened, but she would be lying if she didn't slightly use her accomplishments and new experiences to fill up missing togepi, her boys and her past life.

Her past life of adventures, some involving legendary pokémon ending the world while others were simply sharing chocolate candy with her best friend during a festival.

It was more than putting in extra hours training or renovating the gym, because those were duties she respected and took responsibility for. It was the trying cigarettes then liking it and the kissing people with vigor—it was the deep night swimming alone at sea she didn't mention to anyone. Everything was a new experience but part of her thought nothing was as sweet as chocolate pieces on top of a ferris wheel overlooking the festival lights. Those times she spent with Ash.

Brock returns, drinks and sweets in hand, and sits on the other side of the wooden table. She smiles warmly, giving him a 'thanks' before taking a bite out of the lavender pound cake placed in front of her. He is always good at people, knowing what they want and needed. Brock could read Misty easily as a magazine at a dental office. Which is mostly is why Misty keeps him as a close ally in life, fully aware that he could easily destroy her. He knows too much.

"How was the ride over here?" Brock asks, taking a sip of his hazelnut cold brew. "You came later than usual, everything okay at the gym?"

"It was longer than I expected," she replies, blowing into her latte. "Daisy's car really needs maintenance work, so I was thinking maybe getting Gary to come by and look at it. Anyway, the gym is fine it's just dealing with the league not wanting to fully insure has given me such a headache. We haven't made a claim in years! I'm not as young as I was when I started, you think they would have a little more faith."

Brining the decorative mug to her face, she hums into her sip savoring the taste of green tea.

"The league loves to treat the younger leaders like their interns that keep getting the takeout orders wrong," Brock points out, arms folded over his chest like a father in thought. "I remember when dad left, and I had to take over, everything was such a nightmare when it came to inspections and child services. Anyway, don't stress out too much—the league likes you. They aren't subtle about favoritism, I just think they like to give you a hard time to see how well you do under pressure."

Misty forces a strained smile. "I do excellent."

He looks at her like she's ten again, letting out a short laugh. "You always do, Mist."

Her eyes shift from her backpack to Brock's satchel, thinking how no matter they were in life they could relate to each other. They spoke passionately of nausea during stressful responsibilities, about their siblings and about how hard it was not to get choked up about attractive people you sincerely liked.

"Brock, can I ask you if you miss it?" Misty asks, wondering about how someone could be a leader, breeder, and med student all in one. "Being a gym leader, or even on the road being a breeder. Do you miss any of it?"

"I miss it all," Brock answers truthfully, looking at the passersby walking past the café window. "I think I missed my siblings more than the battling but even I like to get riled up in the heat of it. And my heart is in breeding, it brought me to where I am now. On the road with you guys. With May, Max, Dawn, Ash and you—I miss waking up in a near town or making a mystery stew with whatever we could get our hands on."

"If you miss it, why not return to it?"

"Think of it like this, it's like thinking about how good a curry sauce would be but right now, there is no curry sauce. Only a tabasco, so I use the tabasco and it still turns out just as good."

"Brock…..wow."

"Sometimes it even comes out even better!"

Misty's eyebrows shoot up, fazed by his words. "You—you are such a domestic. How dare you use sauce examples to get your feelings across."

"The point still stands. Do I miss it? Of course, but missing something doesn't keep me from enjoying something else. Living in the now is what makes life grand—every love confession counts! Gotta shoot your shot before the world ends."

"You are an unbelievable rock of a complex man," she states. "Truly, I don't know how you do it."

"Lots and lots of caffeine," he says before taking a swig of his drink.

Brock's words settle into her. Misty's heart is heavy with reminiscing of the past and missing who and what was part of it. She doesn't tell Brock that at night her heart asks for Ash, missing how he'd tell her goodnight in a soft voice as they settled in their sleeping bags. How it would make her younger self hold her hand to her chest, clenching her crop top out of schoolgirl giddy. How she hid her bright blushing face the color of cherries into her goldeen sleeping bag.

"Speaking of complex men," her pseudo-brother starts, leaning his arms against the edge of the table. "Apparently, Ash is coming back home."

"For good?" she asks, wearing a curious expression despite already knowing the answer to the question. She already knows where this is leading to.

About a week or two ago, Misty and Brock and all their people in Pallet watched as their golden boy placed Top Eight in the Vertress Conference, the championship competition for the Unova League. Ash and his team made them all proud, as he supported his pokémon through it all. It was strange to Misty as she analyzed him through the other side of the screen, as the boy who was heartbroken over his first major loss. She saw what he had become with immense pride, even if part of her wished she was in the stands screaming for him to tighten up. Seeing the experience of him smiling after a loss, instead of tears. His tears always influenced her.

"Is he coming alone?"

"His friends are coming along—"

Misty perks up. "Well they can stay at the gym for a couple of days! I'll email Ash seeing if—"

Brock shakes his head. "I think it's only for a Monday and Tuesday of next week, Mist. He's arriving in Vermillion then he's staying a day in Pallet for Delia then he said the Kalos region is his next destination."

In her eyes, destinations are nonstop for that kid.

She takes a moment to recollect her thoughts of Delia waving goodbye to her boy and of Ash probably not returning her calls in time for them to meet up.

Brock notices her frown and sends her an empathetic look.

"I have people coming for plumbing on next Monday and Tuesday," she tells him with disappointment. "Are you able to see him?"

He shakes his head once again. "Got an exam on Tuesday, and a study session all afternoon the day before. I'm sure Ash will send his love."

"You're right," she nods, looking at the residual green foam of her latte. "He can be forgetful, but I'm sure he will. Let's hope he makes Kalos his bitch."

Brock smiles. "Amen to that."

"Anyway," Misty begins, the images of chocolate pieces and championships subsiding from her mind, "let's talk about your study date with Sabrina."

Brock chokes on his drink and Misty giggles at the redness of his ears. In that moment, spending time with one of her oldest and closest friends, she felt full.

. . .

An early summer morning, Misty wakes up to a brown parcel covered in colorful stickers and foreign stamps. She opens the package to find treasures hidden in a sea of pink packing peanuts.

She smiles at the bag of chocolate candies and box of rose tea.

Digging deeper she finds an envelope filled with a stack of photographs, a drawing done in crayon, and a letter.

Misty shuffles through the stack of photos. She recognizes Lumoise City and its Prism Tower. Images of blue coasts and the Kalosian countryside cause her heart to melt. The region is truly beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as the golden-haired girl smiling sweetly in every other photo. Other photos feature a boy wearing round coke bottle glasses and a bright-eyed little girl. Both with cornstarch colored-hair. Misty thinks to herself that blonde hair and blue eyes must be genetically common in Kalos.

"Ash must really stand out when he's with them," Misty says to herself, flipping to a photo. It was a group shot.

Clemont and Serena looked to be caught between a laugh as Ash's tan arms wrapped around their shoulders in a tight hold. Pikachu's grin matched his trainers as the yellow pokémon was sitting on Bonnie's head. The photo was posed for, but Misty sees how genuinely close they all were to one another.

His scrawny, boyish features replaced by smooth, prominent muscles. In his arms and shoulders, the way he filled out his shirt. Ash had not only grown taller, but he had grown. Ash's growth brings her inner schoolgirl to a tingle as she wonders if he is now taller than her. It reassures her knowing her own development didn't leave him behind like she feared.

The years have molded Misty like a ceramic piece, a body of curves and length. Stretchmarks intricately painted on her hips, chest and legs as proof of how quickly puberty hit her. Her sisters warned her how common it was for girls in their family to bloom early, earning strange stares from people on the streets and being unable to fit into old swimsuits. Now as a teenager, she accepted having to let go of much of her childhood. She is relieved to see she isn't the only one.

Misty places the photos on the table beside the parcel. At the corner of her eye, she spots pastel blue paper. A sweet whiff of sugar and roses hits her nose when she lifts it up, opening it to find Ash's bold handwriting on flowery stationary.

To Misty,

How jealous are you of me right now? I don't even like coffee but there are cafes on almost every street here! It took some time, but I made sure to take pictures of things you would like to see. Serena and Clemont thought I should send them some traditional Kalosian stuff. I ate some of your chocolate already, so trust me when I say they are yummy. Things here are different than Kanto—their street food is really fancy and they don't have any normal hamburgers. Everything is super sweet here which a blessing and a curse.

The last time we talked was when you called me after the Lumoise Conference finals, but it was short so Bonnie said she'd help me get this together. Thanks for the call by the sorry that I was a little blue. But please let me know what you think of the mermaid drawing Bonnie drew for you—she's pretty good with crayons and loves feedback. I thought you would like stuff from Kalos the most, I remember how you've always wanted to visit. Even though I'm leaving soon, maybe in the future we can come back. So, I'm leaving for Kanto in a bit. There are some things I feel like I gotta handle but I'll be in Pallet soon—and I think I'm gonna stay a while before the next step, ya know?

Been feeling pretty homesick.

I'll call you when I'm gonna be in Pallet. Get ready for some stories.

See you soon!

-Ash

"See you soon…" she reads to herself, pressing her fingertips into the paper. Misty's face scrunches up in thought.

She anticipated a quick message followed by a smudge doodle of his pikachu. Not the sweets or the fresh smell of roses. Even if the chocolates made her shed a tear of joy, it doesn't compare to her knowing that he was finally coming home.

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notes: they will reunite soon dudes. ash and misty always do! please let me know what you think. much love!