Author's Notes: Given that the animé just seems to go on, and on, and on, and on, I skipped to the end we were all waiting for, for Ash to gain the title he'd set out for. Being me I thought, I couldn't leave it there. So I gave the matter some thought and this one-shot is the result.
What if Ash had not met up with anyone upon arriving in Unova, but had simply been left on his own, left to pursue his dream, and obsession, even at a cost? What if he had finally reached that dream? What would happen after that day had finally come?
Here's my answer to that question. This is intended as a one-shot, but I could continue it if you want. I wanna see how public reception goes first.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon. I'd have brought Misty back into the main cast by now if I did. Brock came back for Christ's sake (only to leave...again...and return...then leave again), and he's far less influential on the plot than Misty was if you ask me.
Then again, I doubt I could have make Pokémon into the multi-million (or billion, I don't keep track of the numbers) franchise it is today. Maybe that's a good thing.
Update: November 2012
Font change meanings:
"Text with speech marls": Character speaking.
"Italic Text with speech marks": Character thinking.
Italic Text: Translated Pokéspeak. Also used for emphasis.
"Italic text with speech marks and underlined text": Flashback speech (except in an actual flashback).
Bold text: Intended for use as an emphasis tool (particulate in character thoughts). Might possibly be used otherwise but I very much doubt it. Will post a warning in a later chapter if I use it another way.
There might possibly be the rare (and brief) occasion where the rules are not strictly followed (or something may be done which meaning isn't listed here), the context of the scene this is done in should explain that easily enough.
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It had all come down to this moment. From that day when he'd left his house in his pyjamas, eager to begin his journey. This was where everything was leading to. Every trainer, every gym leader, every single battle, every single moment, every single second was for this moment, this battle.
Ash and Cynthia stared one another down, each of them matching their Pokémon in their heavy breathing. Sweat beat down both their faces, both of them betraying the sheer strain they had to keep up with, but neither even close to being overwhelmed by it. Both of them were too focused on this battle, too determined to win, both of them concentrating on their Pokémon.
Pikachu, Ash's first, most loyal, his strongest Pokémon, and most trusted friend.
Garchomp, Cynthia's strongest, favourite, and seldom-defeated weapon.
Both had been lost in an explosion above the ground of the arena, but only for an instant as one figure fell out of it, and one was shooting right up, almost instantly baring down on its foe, opening its mouth to bare its vicious fangs.
Ash's teeth gritted so hard together they almost cracked, before his mouth howled an order with such passion his jaw was close to breaking. "Pikachu, Volt Tackle!" Pikachu put his hands and legs together, and shot down like a missile, aiming at the currently floored Garchomp.
The nigh-undefeated Garchomp did indeed make an effort to escape, but prolonged exposure to Pikachu's will to win had worn her down, and not only a little. From the first strike this battle had been an all-out war, the arena that housed this entire battle had been rendered unrecognisable from what it was when the two trainers had started, and now the last destruction of the land sounded out in an explosion as the furry missile slammed into Garchomp's chest. When the smoke finally cleared a satisfied Pikachu was walking away from the now unconscious Garchomp, a little worse for wear, but clearly able to go another couple of rounds if by some miracle his opponent managed to wake up.
That miracle would never come. "Garchomp is unable to battle! Ash Ketchum is the winner!"
Pikachu ran, jumping into his best friends arms as both of them laughed, too shocked to fully process the depths of their victory, but still mentally aware enough to process that they had won a battle. Both of them had been too busy celebrating between themselves when all of a sudden the voice of Charles Goodshow covered the entire stadium, freezing Ash and Pikachu in the brief moment until his announcement was finished.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the winner of the Grandmaster Championship, the new Pokémon Grandmaster, Ash Ketchum!"
Ash and Pikachu had been overcome in that moment, each of them raising a fist into the sky and roaring out to the world. Their years of effort, hardship, wins and loses, the countless hours of training and preparation that culminated in this single moment, this single cry of victory. They had finally reached their dream.
They were now the greatest in the world.
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That had been days ago, days which had passed in a rushed haze of cameras, interviews, hordes of fans and there was a ceremony wrapped up in there somewhere. In all truth the young mind of the Pokémon Grandmaster had found itself plagued, plagued by something he'd dare not speak, for what it would mean...
His footsteps were the only vocal company he kept at this moment, one never more than a second behind another. He'd been like this since he could get away from the championship, after the media had finished devouring his story, for now, before proceeding to pass the waste that the world-wide audience would soon consume for themselves. They'd be back for more. He was a piece of meat in a Sharpedo lake now, and his new title was bleeding like crazy. He'd have less than a week or so to himself most likely. He had made no concious decision as to a destination, he simply went wherever his feet would carry him. He recalled getting on a boat back to Kanto, and the time spent in his cabin alone (save for the company of an equally silent, and plagued Pikachu), leaving only when necessary, and for the final time when the boat had finally docked.
Since then he had merely kept walking, and he would not stop until long into the night, but before they both walked to the end of the path to their final destination, Pikachu saw fit to break the silence, to admit the thing that had plagued both of their minds.
"Pika chu?" What now?
Ash didn't stop, but his pace slowed. He'd understood his friends words perfectly, it was hard not to spent all this time together and not be able to understand the rodent that occupied his shoulder. "I don't know, buddy. I really don't."
"Chu pika pika chu pika?" You don't want to battle anymore?
"No. It's just we've beaten the best. There's no one else strong enough left for us, Pikachu. I know we've dreamed of this for years, but now we're here..." He suddenly stopped, looking to the sky. Letting one thought loose before continuing to walk. "What does a trainer do when there's no one left who can face him?"
And there it was, the plague that had worked its way into Ash's mind. He had spent six years of his life working towards this dream, and now he had it. He was left with nothing left to do, nowhere left for him to go. He had reached the highest point, on some never he had never realized that this is what being on top meant. It was not something that he could take to well, right now anyway.
"Kachu pi." I know. His tone suddenly lightened. "Pika pika pickau pi! Chu pika chu pika pi!" There's always next year! We'll have to defend your title then!
Ask smiled. "Our title. Pikachu, you earned it at least as much as I did." Though both had no clear path in front of them, there was at least something, in the distance that these wanderers could grasp onto. Both had been wandering and battling for so long that having reached their goal had been more than just a mere shock, it had been shattering to them. Since leaving Sinnoh, and arriving in Unova. Both had wandered on their own, along with whoever Ash carried in the rest of his Pokémon team at a given time. Two years, two long years they had wandered, fought, trained, and six months ago they had been invited to the Grandmaster Championship. The tournament for the absolute elite, that even the various elite four groups and regional champions entered for the title of Pokémon Grandmaster, the strongest in the world. Six months passed by in moments to them as they trained for it. Six months of brutal, painstaking preparation and just a few days ago all the work of Ash and his Pokémon had paid them off, in the absolute highest amount. They had won it all, but perhaps, lost more.
Only days ago Ash had been on a euphoria rush so strong it didn't look like anything could have brought him down, even through the uncertainty that was on his mind even then. That was days ago, and this was now. He had finally discovered where his feet were taking him. And they had taken that euphoria rush and dunked Ash head first into a cruel thing known as reality.
The bright colors, the gigantic Dewgong on the front, and the smell of water that somehow was woven into the air. Ash had come to the Cerulean city gym. Two years ago he'd have just gone right in, not a care in the world. Two years was a very long time, and a very long time to make mistakes. Two years was a long time for a lot of things...
Ash, for only a moment, considered just going in anyway, to hell with everything, but a conscience was a hard thing to silence, and when the fault was only your own, it was damn near impossible. He turned around, walking once more, this time knowing full well where he was going.
Away.
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It had started as such a typical day. Misty had gotten up, gotten dressed and prepared, undergone various morning routines (wake the Pokémon, morning laps, address any documents that required her attention), then her gym was opened to challengers. Three had come in so far, three had left, utterly thrashed by the youngest of the sensational sisters. Long gone were the days which this gym handed out badges. If you wanted a badge then you better prepared yourself for one hell of a fight. Misty was not known to pull her punches, or tell her Pokémon to pull theirs. She had just started her lunch break, about to go into the town to find a place to eat at when she saw something that shocked her to the essence of her being.
Right there, right on the path that connected her Gym to the rest of the city was him. She had to blink several times just to be sure but there he was. Even if she hadn't seen his accomplishment on TV, she still would have been able to recognize him, even thought he'd changed since the last time they stood face to face. The two years had taken to him well, giving him extra high, a more masculine physique and more defined facial features. Yet there was no mistaking the sixteen year old boy before her from Ask Ketchum, especially with the trademark Pikachu on his shoulder. No doubt it was Ash, that dense, stubborn and wonderful boy who had pretty much whisked her away on the adventures of a lifetime. Her first instinct was to rush outside, and punch/hug/cripple/kiss senseless her former best friend, but then the 'former' term really made itself known, and she was glued to the spot. She waited for Ash to make a move, if he would ever make one. For a brief instant it looked like he was moving forward, before he blinked and turned away, walking away from the Gym step by step. Some part of her couldn't help but think this was the last time she was going to see him.
"Ash..."
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Ash had moved much faster after that. Some would call it desperation to reach a place, but Pikachu knew that it was Ash trying to get away from another place. He'd wandered most of the night, only stopping for a brief nap spanning several hours in the night, just to get up and keep going without another word.
No-one could describe Ash's life in the last couple years better than Pikachu, not even half, or even a tenth as well. He'd kept quiet, caring far too much for his best friend's dream (and in a way his own, he'd wanted to be the best as well.). He'd kept quiet, but watched as the isolation had slowly changed Ash. He had not become cold, far from it. He had been the perfect trainer as always, but while his skills in dealing with Pokémon had not diminished in the least, he had forgotten how to deal with people. Ash still helped people, yes, but when it came to actually forming any kinds of meaningful relationships with them...all hopes of that had pretty much gone after a year. His friend has simply forgotten how to make human friends. Now Pikachu was cursing himself for not doing something to stop what he saw going on in front of him. Well there was a phrasing those humans used, 'better late than never'.
"Pi pi pikachu ka, Pikapi" You should have gone in there, Ash.
"And say what, exactly? 'Hey Misty. Really, really long time no see. Yeah, sorry about that, how are you?'"
Pikachu shook his head in annoyance. "Pika chupi pika chupi. Pikachu pika kachu pika, Pikapi. Pikachu pika chu, ka pikachu chu pika pikachu chu pika chu kachu pika." Sorry would be a good start. People don't change that much in two years, Ash. She'd be angry, but she'd forgive you if you said sorry.
Ash gave a bitter laugh. "Have you met her? We're talking about the girl who used to beat me with a mallet over the littlest things. She'd kill me over this."
"Pi pikachu." You're wrong.
"Yeah." He sighed. "For just about everything I did. I..." He suddenly looked down, trying to hide, in vain what his eyes were currently screaming out to the world. "I let her...I let them all go. Oh Arceus, all of them. I even stopped contacting Mom..."
"Pikachu, Pikapi." I'm sorry, Ash.
"Wh-What do you have to be sorry for?"
"Kachu pika pi, ka. Pika pika pi kachu. Pikachu pikapi pika, pi kachupi pika pi chu." I saw this happening, slowly. But I didn't do anything. I wanted you to reach your dream, but I should have stopped you.
"You know that pretty much nothing was going to stop me."
"Pi. Pikachu pika. Pikachu pi pi ka chu pi." No. But I could have tried. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad if I did.
"Don't beat yourself up, Pikachu. You're not the one who's ruined his social and family life beyond repair."
"Ka chu pika pi chu. Pi pika chu, pika pika chu pikachu ku chu pika." It's not beyond repair. Even you know that, though you're too busy complaining to realize it.
"I'm not wrong, Pikachu."
Pikachu gave a sly grin. "Pikachu. Kachu pika. Pikachu kachu pi." Fine then. Be stubborn. But look to your right.
He did. "Oh Mew..." He turned his body fully, finally realizing exactly where he'd ended up. This wasn't his intended destination, but clearly his feet would not be obeying his instructions any time soon. Ash had come...home.
Pikachu patted his best friend encouragingly. "Pikachu pikachi pika. Pikachu kachu. Pi pika pikachu pika." You know you can still come back here. Now go knock that door. Your Mom must miss you.
"But I-"
"Pi. Kachu ka. Chu." Go. To that door. Now.
Ash took a heavy step, half expecting something to go horribly wrong when he did, like something was going to pounce out at him if he did, even though it was the middle of the day and he could see nothing trying to hide. He slowly reached the front door, but just stood there, looking at it, his mind running through what could be on the other side. Would his Mother want to see him? Would she even remember him? What if...he gulped, he'd been replaced? Guilt and fear kept him in place, so much that it took a gentle shock just to get him to stop looking like a statue.
"Pikachu ka!" Just knock already!
Ash gulped, reaching up a shaking hand to the pidgy-shaped knocker. He took a few second before pulling it up, and slamming it down. He did this three times in quick succession.
He jumped when he heard a "coming!" from inside, forcing down another lump in his throat. He barely had time to think of what to do before the door was opened.
His mother had exited the door almost as he remembered her, but though she seemed to be trying to hide it, he could see the bags under her eyes, and did her hair look a little...faded? He wasn't so dense that he couldn't trace the cause of his mother's jaded appearance, and he was seized with a fresh wave of guilt. He'd wanted to say so much, but he only found himself able to utter two coherent words.
"Uhh...Hi Mom..."
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Well that had been...something. If someone had gone back in time and asked him what he expected his mother to do when he showed up at her door, the foremost guess would have been a slap, or two, or more. The other guesses too closely tied and wild to even put forward as guesses. He didn't have great expectations though...
He'd have never expected his suddenly sobbing mother to start hugging him, her speech unintelligible between the uses of "My baby's home!' and "so proud of you!".Though that might have had something to do with him saying "I'm sorry" every other couple of seconds. As much as he'd thrown himself into his dream, the boy still missed his Mother, though he'd been too blind to see it. He'd been too blind, to many things. That's how things were for close to quarter of an hour between them, before both of them finally managed to calm down enough to separate. They'd parted to see a smiling (though teary-eyed) Pikachu looking back up at them, which had gotten the little rodent pulled into a hug and a fresh bout of sobbing from his mother, who proceeded to pull her son in again.
That part he was still processing. But if nothing else, he thought with a sigh, it was good to be home, and he was on the path to making it up to his Mom.
After the most emotional reunion of his life it had been a home-cooked meal, delivered by the greatest cook that ever walked the earth. His mother had pulled out all the stops. Every single one of his favourite dishes growing up had been laid out before him, and neither he or Pikachu wasted time in consuming what was before them. Both during and after the meal Delia had bugged Ash for every detail of his life she had missed. Every detail. He was never going to outgrow being embarrassed about being pestered by his mother about changing his underwear, ever. They'd sat a that dinner table for hours, daylight passing into sunset, the sunset being replaced by a full moon in the night sky. Ash had waited until very late to say goodnight, promising as much time as his Mother wanted tomorrow.
But he was not going to bed just yet. On the contrary, he was planning to stay up for quite a while. Currently he sat quite alone, Pikachu having gone to pursue his own interest. He likely wouldn't be seen until morning. Ash sat in a chair, legs placed on the pane of an open window as he stared out at the field in front of his house. He'd travelled the world over, but never had he found a place quite like his little home of Pallet. Now, this moment was his, and his alone. Despite being without human contact for the longest time, being truly alone was not a luxury Ash had often got, and he had something he had to do tonight with this time.
He reached into his bag and pulled something out. He smirked to himself for even having this. He'd passed through a town in Unova on his way to the championship with more...lax laws when it came to alcohol and minors. Sixteen was an acceptable age to buy alcohol in that town, and since the championship was just around the corner, why not give himself something to look forward to upon his victory? People got drunk when they celebrated, or so he'd heard. He'd brought the idea to Pikachu's attention but the rodent wanted no part of it, unless they were drinking ketchup instead. Ash had laughed at that, promising to buy Pikachu a hundred bottles of ketchup if they won. The rodent was on bottle eight when he'd left him, Pikachu had decided to enjoy his spoils alone, having no desire to "Watch you get shitfaced", if his translation was right. He hadn't been wrong yet.
He'd wondered where Pikachu had picked up that kind of language, but decided it wasn't worth looking into.
He'd never bothered to check the name of the alcohol, or even it's strength. He'd just asked for 'the best you got' and he'd been given a very large bottle of some gold liquid. It looked pleasant enough. This bottle was either to celebrate his victory, or comfort him if he lost (though he'd never admit that part, even to himself). Tonight he was doing a bit of both. He'd come home to a mess he'd created, and for that he needed comfort, but he'd already made peace with his Mom, that alone was worth celebrating over, and at this moment, far more so than a measly little world tournament. He had much pain left to soothe however, so he uncorked the bottle and took a sip. "Not bad."
He sat in that position, drinking for another half an hour before the strength of the beverage began talking a toll on his mind. He'd travelled enough to see people in bars giving into depression as a result of drinking. He'd always dismissed them, focusing on something else but now he knew, those people had some real problems.
Coming home had made everything so much more real, though in his singular ambition to become the Pokémon Grandmaster everything else had become so unreal it was if his past life was but a dream, or perhaps he had merely descended into one and was only now awake. The reality he had woken up to was not welcoming him with welcome arms.
He remembered, he remembered the details that his conquest to become master had drowned out, but now that history rose from the depths of his memory to seize him by the throat and drag him down, and drag him down hard. He sat there, quite powerless as a set of related memories demanded and seized his attention. A list of memories he was going to face.
The last time he had talked to his friends, and each was a distinct entry in his diary of screw-ups. Each one had been a different time.
Gary. Ash almost snorted in laughter. It was hard to believe that that arrogant asshole had become his friend, but indeed he had, once their rivalry had finally been put to rest it had happened, though neither would claim they were particularity close. Despite being the least valued among his list, Gary had been the last talked to in some way. It had been in Unova. Ash had quite literally found Gary at random. Just over a year ago, there Gary was, looking into some dig sight that had some interesting fossils in it. They had almost missed one another, in fact, they had. Pikachu had been the one to bring attention the presence of his former rival. Ash had turned, his shock spilling out the name of his rival before he could stop himself. By this time Ash had long since been used to walking on his own, and thought he'd never had even thought of it then, he was getting used to the loneliness his dedication to his dream was hiding from him. It had been an, well he not say awkward reunion, but it not been a joyous one either. They had simply met again. A bit of teasing which did not hide very well the fact that Ash had ceased talking to his friends at that point (the closest Gary was capable of trying to do something nice for his former rival). Some small talk about topics that only one of them really cared about in each topic. This culminated in a brief battle, for old times sake. With a quick grin, Ash remembered the absolute evisceration he'd handed his old rival. Ash had a feeling Gary had never spoken of their meeting. His face muscles sagged heavily when that feeling was looking to be correct. This meant that for just over a year at least, no one had known where he was or what he was doing, until he'd shown up at the Championship. He may have owed Gary a kick to his privates for not even mentioning running into him, but if he owed Gary one, he owed himself hell of a lot more, and in a lot more places, with a lot more force.
Tracey. Two months into his trip around Unova he'd found and pictured quite a beautiful Pokémon oasis. He'd emailed the photo to his friend minutes after taking the picture, receiving a thanks and admiration over the picture minutes later. It ended on a nice note, suddenly though, but it was not in the least drug out. Still, hardly a worthy ending for someone who had travelled with him.
May and Dawn. He smiled at this one, because even now, despite...everything, he was so proud of them both. He had watched them battle, head-to-head, in the greatest contest battles he had ever seen and one of the best battles he'd ever seen, period. They had fought to a draw, but when you fought a battle like that, that alone was victorious. He'd seen them both off on their boat, leaving far faster than he should have. Likely the case was they tried to wave to him on the boat, only to find he'd long since gone. Likely they took that as an offence, because that was the last he'd saw or heard of them. He knew now that a mere email could to patched up this wound, two little words would have done it, would have then anyway.
Max. He had been one of the longer ones he'd kept in contact with, because due to the fact that Max was currently still living at home. His main source of company had been a certain Ralts, who had somehow found Max's house and made itself at home. Despite not being allowed to go on a journey yet, Max was learning to battle under his father's guidance, taking many techniques from a certain Pokémon Grandmaster and applying them in his own style. Max and Ralts were going to make one hell of an impact on Hoenn when they set out on their own. Max had made it a point to constantly pester him for battle tips, and recent battles Ash had fought in. He'd also kept Ash up to date on May's life long after they'd lost touch, until eventually even they ceased talking. This happened around the time Ash had suffered a defeat, a bad one, and dug himself one foot deeper into the grave he was in now and severely increased his training. His last conversation with Max had been a video call, a late at night call with the two were only half awake for, and had very little to say. It was awkward.
Brock. Oh dammit, Brock. Ash took a heavy gulp. Just how in hell had that happened? One moment it had been going well, Brock had been taking a small vacation and decided to catch up with Ash by coming to Unova. They'd sat down for a meal (curtsey of Brock's second-only-to-one cooking skills). Things had started fine, even good. Ash recalled hiding laughter as Brock expressed his 'endless sorrow' over the pretty classmates of his studies into Pokémon medicine, and how they had denied his persistent flirting before suddenly the topic changed. For the life of him Ash could not remember exactly how Brock had worded it, but he could be pretty sure Brock had put it in a polite way. All Brock had done was point out that Ash wasn't keeping very consistent contact with his friends, and even his mother. Ash couldn't remember exactly how it'd happened, but things had come to a shouting match, before long ending with Ash throwing his plate to the ground and walking off. He had not contacted Brock at all since that day, and unless Arceus felt like recreating the universe in a state where he had not screwed up that unbelievably badly, he didn't think he was ever going to.
Misty. He downed a mouthful, and another after that when his body gave an involuntary heave, fighting to release the beast of despair he himself had fed, trained and armed. The truth was he couldn't quite place when it'd happened. That was the absolute worst part. His first true (human) friend, his best friend, and he couldn't even be sure exactly when it'd all gone wrong exactly. He shot down another mouthful. He knew it had ended in emails. Random, little things before one day there was only silence. When that day was, was lost to him. He downed another mouthful. The pursuit of his dream had indeed bore fruit, the ultimate return for his investments. But there was a difference between what he was willingly putting in, and what he had done without realizing so. Somewhere along the line Ash had paid up far more than he intended, and he wanted it all back.
He suddenly rose from his chair, trying to fight back the sudden feeling of loss that was ripping himl apart. He tore open the door to his closet, where he knew that some semblance of his past was, where the good times still held some physical fragment of themselves. He grabbed the first box he could find, pulling out the garments that had seen him through Sinnoh. That yellow-striped dark blue jacket, and that hat. Memories of Sinnoh, all of them rushed upon him at once. He leaned back, letting some of them hold still in his mind for just the moment. Meeting Dawn, her Cheering for him, Paul, the second asshole rival. He placed the clothing back, before finding a second box and raiding it for a second set of clothing.
Soon the clothing that had seen him through Hoenn was in his hands. The jacket, so much like his original one in its way. The had had been the biggest change, it'd been weeks before he was used to seeing that thing in the mirror. He remembered meeting May, and Max, and when Brock came back. The battle frontier, and conquering it completely. The unfortunate incidents of possession that had overcome both him and Pikachu. Eventually this group joined the rest, they had separated. He closed the box.
There was one more. The most important. The one that had brought him, Brock and...Misty together. He dived into the closet, reaching around every considerable area. He needed to find it, where the original was. Where the garments he had started out in were. The first symbol of Ash Ketchum. Five minutes passed before one thing became clear. His first trainer cap, and his first jacket were gone.
"But where?"
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Misty looked down at the coat and hat in her hands, a gift from Delia Ketchum given during Ash's travels in Sinnoh. She kept them in the box she had received them with, the box they had originally been placed in when Delia had gotten them from her son. Brock had gotten to go back, full time to the adventure that was Ash Ketchum's life. She had only a brief instant of that again, and the wiser-than-she-let-on mother of her former best friend had one day given her a box, with instructions to open it next time she really missed Ash.
She'd gotten less than half a mile from the Ketchum household when she'd torn the lid off, finding something which both hurt and soothed her heart. A little piece of the something he had lost, had retreated to an outer corner of her life, before eventually...he had simple gone completely. She had slept with both items of clothing that night, with them somehow having maintained some of his scent, before her consistent snuggling had robbed that away.
She felt herself tearing up again, but she would not stop herself, she never did. Her tears showered the cap he'd "sent in about a million postcards" to claim for himself, with some more sinking into the coat.
And even though it pained her, she knew she would be sleeping with them tonight too. Living with the truth was one thing, a cruel, merciless and horrible thing to live with, but letting it go, letting him go. It was unthinkable, even now. She pulled both items close, trying desperately to find some trace of the scent she knew her longing had washed away long ago. "Ash...why..."
A question she had asked so many times before, a question to which she had yet to be given reply. A question, she knew she would never have an answer for.
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Hours had passed, and with each one Ash's thoughts had flashed through various stages. The first was blame, he'd spent an hour just trying to find someone else to blame. He'd tried blaming Professor Oak, for having a Pokémon left for him to take, that had lasted about five seconds. No Pikachu meant no journey, no journey meant no friends for him to mourn over losing. He'd tried blaming Misty for fishing him out and then following him, but quickly shook that off, literally, with a violent shaking of his head. He'd tried blaming Brock, for not giving him some kind of advice to save him from this before it happened, but then he realized Brock probably had, somewhere down the line. He tried to blame Gary, for being such an asshole of a rival, in forcing him to get better and better, but he remembered that when Gary had ceased that role, it ended up being taken by another anyway. He tried blaming Team Rocket, for constantly stalking them, but could find come up with no excuse as to why exactly that lead to this situation. He tried blaming Ritchie, for beating him in the Indigo League, because if he had won that match, he might have advanced and won there, and quite possibly reached the rank of 'Master' much sooner, possibly in the time the three of them would still be...he'd needed another swig at this point. But his blame quickly turned to Charizard, for disobeying him in that match. If Charizard had listened he'd have won that match, and had a good shot for the rest of the matches. This all became futile when Ash realized that anyone ranked 'Master' at that time would have kicked his ass in a battle, no contest. He'd blamed Pikachu. If the little rat had just listened right away then...his reasoning fell to pieces right there. He'd tried to keep going, but he'd run out of people to try and blame before his last, pathetic ditch effort. He tried to blame his mother for letting him leave, for letting everything come to pass, but was sickened with himself for even thinking such a thing, even if he was drunk. He had tried, but everyone else he could even to hope to have blamed, he'd only met because of his own actions, of his own dream. The only one he could blame was himself.
He'd moved to anger, trying to bring himself to destroy something, but it just wasn't in him. He'd moved into depression, crying over the state of affairs he himself had created. He'd finally settled on apathy, silent, but his mind running a mile a minute. Now he found himself laying on the floor, on his stomach as he simply lay there, his mind running slower and slower, winding down for the day, for the hangover that was coming in the morning. He blinked as suddenly the bag that had been moved to his bed during his drunken fit fell, letting something from the bag fall out onto his hand.
He was too out of it to gasp, but his eyes had snapped fully open when he saw it. He'd not looked at or held this in...he could not recall when the last time was. This one piece of fabric, perhaps his single most treasured possession. He grasped it, gently holding it in his hand as he simply stared at it "How could I let this happen..." His tears finally started to fall, trailing down his face into the floor below him. The handkerchief he had been given was for an occasion just like this, for this very reason, for when missing her had become too much. But he wouldn't dare, back then the reasons for their parting were fair, it was nobody's fault. It was just time to say goodbye, but it did not have to be forever. This time someone was to blame, this time he had been the one to create the distance between them. He had no right to even have that handkerchief anymore, but that did not mean he was going to let it go. "Misty..." That was the last of his thoughts in the waking world. The last thought before a mixture of drunkenness and tiredness soon claimed him, his unconscious mind preparing to be the one to punish him now.
Hours later Delia would enter the room, finding the unconscious form of her son laid on the floor, bottle long having since escaped his grasp. She would not need to expend much effort in discovering what had happened, the handkerchief alone would do explain enough. She would realize that while she, Misty, and all of Ash's friends had suffered, they were not the only ones. His pitiful form grasping the handkerchief with all the strength that an unconscious body could spoke more than words were capable. She would start crying even before she left him in the blissful state of unconsciousness, before retreating to her room to weep over what had become of her own son. She would weep for her son growing up, and not doing so well. She would cry for what his own dream had done to him. She would cry for what he had let it cost him, how he had let it consume him. She would cry for the fact that her baby had been left on his own for far too long. She would cry for the fact that it seemed almost impossible now that her son would finally address the feelings she had seen in him, and in the one he held them for since the day she had first seen then together.
She would cry...for the both of them.
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End
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Author's notes:
So should I continue? Or leave it there? Your choice! This chapter does its job as a tragic ending, but I'm nothing if not a supporter of that political process known as democracy.