Oh, and PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! I need more. PLEEEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSEEEEEE!!!!!

Enough of my complaining; read and enjoy!

Disclaimer: What’s that you say? Pokemon and Team Rocket don’t belong to me? They belong to Nintendo and Satoshi Tajri? Oh, darn….

Inside.
Chapter Three: Screaming.

“I still don’t get why we could’ta waited at headquarters for dem kids ta walk straight inta da gym.”

Jessie sighed. “You’re forgetting Meowth. The boss doesn’t like for Team Rocket activities to be carried out inside Viridian City. Too much risk of unwanted attention being drawn to him and the gym. Remember, the cops have had their eye on him ever since that trainer started that rumor about him using illegal performance enhancing drugs on his Pokemon.”

Meowth sniffed. “Yeah, plus da fact dat he’s still pissed at us about Jim’s little temper tantrum.” The cat cast a pointed glare in the young man’s direction.

“Forget about that, will you?” She hissed, irritated that the cat had not dropped the subject ever since they had left Viridian yesterday. “He’s in a sulky enough mood as it is, and he doesn’t need you rubbing it in his face every minute of the day.”

He scoffed. “Whateva. I’m gonna go get us some firewood.” He turned and stalked off into the undergrowth, his tail twitching behind him.

Jessie returned her attention back to her small bag of belongings, wishing for the umpteenth time that she had remembered to pack her Discman, or at lest a portable radio. Things were going to get mighty low without music to help take your mind off what a dismal failure you were. With a resigned sigh, she began to unpack her sleeping bag.

“I hate this weather.”

The sound of his voice startled her. He had barely spoken a word to either her or Meowth since their departure from HQ. She swiveled her head to stare at his back. He sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, his face tilted towards the gray afternoon sky.

“Pardon?”

“The sky weeps, and every day the world seems more melancholy.” He didn’t turn to face her, instead keeping his gaze locked on the ominous looking clouds, with their promise of rain. It seemed to Jessie as though he wasn’t even addressing her, rather that the conversation was directed elsewhere, and she was just eavesdropping on the whole thing.

She blinked. “Well,” she began uncertainly, “it is late autumn. Winter will be here soon, so we can expect a lot of rain from now on.”

His head turned slowly, so that she could she his face in profile. His eyes, dull and very tired looking, gazed blankly at the ground. “Yes. I suppose we can.” He cast another empty glance up at the foreboding sky, and then gracefully gathered his long legs underneath him and in one smooth motion stood up and faced her. His expression was blank as he covered the short space between them. He blinked down at her, and she had to crane her neck up towards him so she could still look him in the eye.

“What shall we do when it rains?”

She motioned with her head to the basket of the balloon. “I brought a tarp with us. Just about to set it up actually.” She stood and brushed the dirt of her knees. “Wanna help?”

He blinked again, slowly, and the exhaustion etched onto his features seemed to increase ten-fold. “Okay.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Jeez, James. You look buggered. Did you sleep at all last night?”

He ran his tongue over the cut on his lower lip, which he claimed to have received after clumsily walking into a wall in the middle of the night in an effort to reach the bathroom. Of course she had not believed the lie, but like so many other things, she had decided not to press the issue.

Silence permeated the space between them, and it irritated her. “James.” She snapped. “Did you even hear what I just said?”

“Where’s Meowth?” He asked suddenly.

“Wha…” She was starting to get extremely frustrated. He was usually so attentive when it came to her, but now it seemed as though he was having trouble registering the fact that she was even speaking to him. “He’s gone to get firewood. James, why don’t you take a nap or something while I set up the tarp?”

He shuffled his feet, and stared at some far away point between the trees behind her. “When are we leaving to capture Pikachu?”

She stepped forward and grabbed him none too gently by the arm. “Not today.” She half dragged him over to his sleeping bag, and pulled him down with her as she knelt to unzip it. She held it open and looked at him pointedly. “Get in.”

“What for?”

“You’re dead tired, James. You need sleep. Now get in.”

“It’s too early.”

She grabbed him by the arm again. “Not for you.”

Something growled and he yanked his arm out of her grasp. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

She felt her jaw drop in astonishment, and a sickening familiar pang of fear stabbed her. Then the anger surfaced and she bit back viciously at him.

“Fine James. You wanna go fuck yourself up then be my guest.”

She left him then, rage trailing behind her as she stomped back to the balloon and tore the tarpaulin out of the basket with much more force than was necessary, muttering obscenities to herself just loud enough so that James would overhear. She half expected him to come crawling over on hands and knees begging for forgiveness, or perhaps to continue to add to the fire that was burning between them. But he neither approached her nor spoke a word, and after a while the soft autumn breeze cooled her temper. Then the guilt set in, berating her for her total over reaction and lack of understanding. So James didn’t want to go to sleep at four in the afternoon, despite his obvious exhaustion. What was all the fuss? And bad attitude or not, he didn’t deserve to be snapped at like that by his so called ‘best friend.’

“I just want to make sure he’s all right. This past week he’s been so…not James…what with the whole not sleeping and beating Butch senseless. Sometimes I’m not even sure it’s even him. Like something pulled James out of his own body and shoved someone else in there.”

She wrung the tarp worriedly in her hands, and shivered as the gentle breeze transformed into cold, unforgiving wind. The voice in her head spoke up again suddenly.

“But that’s not the only thing…”

No. It most definitely wasn’t.

“The look in his eyes…it was like that night I woke him up during that nightmare. They were so…cold…and…visceral. Like the eyes of a madman. I’ve never seen anything like it before, not even in Giovanni, and he’s a ruthless bastard.”

The wind increased, and the shiver became an involuntary shudder as she remembered.

“And this time…it was worse. It wasn’t just some wild jumble of emotions conjured up by some abstract dream…it was directed at me. He…he hated me. Looked like he wanted to…hurt me…”

The sound of wood knocking against wood startled her, and with a yelp she spun around to see Meowth, having returned with a plentiful bounty of tinder.

He regarded her with surprise. “ What’s with all da jumping and da yelping? Somethin’ give ya a fright?”

She pressed a palm against her chest to try to slow her racing heartbeat. “ I’m sorry. You just…sorry.”

The cat opened his mouth to say something more, then stopped as he noticed the bundle wrapped snugly on the forest floor. “Hey, why is Jim in bed already? Da sun ain’t even set yet.”

She felt her eyes widen as she followed his gaze to James’ form, quiet and still on the damp grass. The sleeping bag wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his knees drawn to his chest, as though he were trying to hide from their curious stares. She couldn’t tell if he was really asleep.

She found herself struggling to say something. “He was…. tired.”

“Oh.” The cat nodded. “Fair enough.” He chose a twig from the pile and picked at it with his claw. “You sure youse is okay?”

Damn cat and his extra sensory perceptions. “I’m fine.”

If he detected the lie, he gave no indication. Instead he twirled the stick deftly in his paw. “Right. I’ll start da fire.” He chewed the end briefly in thought. “Where are da matches?”

“In my bag.” She turned her back on him to continue wrestling with the tarp while Meowth rummaged for the matches. Folding in neatly in her arms and depositing it gently on the ground, she began the search for tent pegs and rope. The sounds of matches being struck accompanied her search.

“By da way…”

She looked back to see him fanning a small flame. “What?”

“Is Jim wearing some new kind o’ cologne or somethin’?”

Her brow furrowed at the strange question. “No. I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, as though it were an inconsequential thing. “Oh, I was just gonna say that if he was then he should change back to his regular brand. He smells funny.”

She felt her eyebrows lift and the corner of her mouth doing likewise, a half smile on her face. “He smells funny?” She found the idea somewhat amusing.

“Yeah. Not funny as in ha-ha kind o’ funny. Funny as in weird an’ stuff.” He looked at her then, his gaze unreadable. “You sure it ain’t something he’s wearing?”

“Pretty sure.” What was he getting at? The Pokemon’s face was blank but something told her that this whole topic was weighing heavily on his mind.

"Right den. No worries.” He turned his attention back to the flame, gently coaxing it into consuming the dead wood.

She blinked at his furry back, opened her mouth to say something, suddenly had second thoughts and then quickly shut it again. The days turn of events had been bizarre enough, and pursuing the conversation about James’ choice of body deodorant would probably only add fuel to the fire, so to speak. How the hell did they get from normal to snarling at each other to discussing body odor? It didn’t make any sense.

With an inward moan, she gathered her things and set to work.

**

It was different this time.

The setting was familiar though; he was once again home at the mansion. The warm sun and calm air told him that he was outside, and not holed up in the filthy dungeon. He sat on the small footbridge leading across the stream that filtered through the mansion’s ridiculously huge front garden. His legs dangled carelessly over the edge, the tips of his black shoes skimming the waters surface.

He stared at his legs as though noticing them for the first time. They were very long.

Lifting his feet, he sought out his reflection. There he was. A man. Not a boy.

Allowing his legs to relax, he considered want he was wearing. A formal suit, very similar to what he was made to wear as a child when his parents were expecting someone important to drop by. The only difference was that he was wearing trousers instead of shorts. Both jacket and pants were the same color, a deep navy blue. A frilly green tie at the neck, pinched tight and constricting. Mother liked that one best because it matched his eyes.

He held something in his hands, a bag of Pokemon food pellets. He grabbed a handful and tossed it into the water, watching, as Magikarp appeared to munch on the unexpected treats.

The electronic pidgey tittered around behind him, muttering to itself. Something about rowing merrily down the stream and the miltank going bong. He remembered that it had been a gift on his eighth birthday from his parents. Even at that young age he had thought it strange that they would waste their money on a toy bird that talked gibberish when they could have just as easily gotten him the real thing, one that would occasionally squawk and leave droppings but would never spout such inconsequential rubbish.

He threw another handful into the water. The Magikarp fought voraciously amongst themselves. Vaguely he wondered if they made electronic Magikarp that could tell you the time and quote bible verses.

Someone made a disapproving noise. “ James, be careful not to feed them too much or they might pop.”

Mother.

She appeared then, wearing her favorite burgundy dress, a parasol held gracefully above her head. She regarded the Magikarp for a moment, and then looked down at him. He met her gaze.

“My, how handsome you’ve become.”

She always used to go on about what a fine young man he would grow into. Handsome and well- educated and cultured.

He couldn’t help but smile. He had always loved Mother the most. But something bothered him.

“Mother?”

“Yes dear?”

“W-why am I here?”

The question seemed to perplex her. “This is your home. Why would you be anywhere else?”

Just like Mother to answer a simple question with a simple answer.

She tilted her head to the side slightly. “Is something wrong, James?”

He shivered. The sun felt cold all of a sudden. “I…I have to leave.”

“Whatever for?”

“I can’t be here.”

Her eyes remained soft though her tone hardened somewhat. “You can’t leave. You’re getting married soon.”

He felt something crawl up his spine. “I’m not marrying her. I hate her.”

“It’s rude to say that about people James.”

“She hates me.”

He refused to look at her now, staring at his reflection instead. He noticed that his eyes seemed hollow, yet there was something moving in them. Something dark. Something that made him want to hate Mother too.

His teeth ground together, anger tightening in his chest. “I’m leaving now.”

“No you’re not.”

“Why not?!!” He screamed, clenching his fist, causing the bag to burst and scatter pellets everywhere. The Magikarp went into a feeding frenzy.

Mother jumped, startled.

“Because you belong here.” Her voice seemed small now.

"No I don’t!!” The dark in his eyes shifted down into his stomach and rolled in a sea of black. Jumping up, he turned his rage on the toy bird, snatching it up and twisting off its head. The screech of metal being torn sounded suspiciously like a scream of agony, sparks and bits of stuffing flying out of its convulsing body as he dropped it to the ground. He turned to Mother. She stared at him, frightened. Her eyes burned holes in him.

Howling, he collapsed to the ground, tearing at his hair. “Don’t look at me!!”

Mother crouched before him and placed a gentle hand on his shuddering back. “Son…

He drew away, hissing. “I’m not your son! I’m not anybody’s son!” He grabbed handfuls of her dress and pulled her towards him, spitting in her face. “I should have never come out of you!!”

He threw her over the railing. She did not scream, only stared blankly into nothing as she connected with the water. She disappeared under the crystal surface, and the Magikarp went wild, tearing at her. The water turned red and began to stink. He simply watched.

Footsteps. Father was coming.

“I’m not your son!” He screamed again. He pushed his fist into Father’s chest and out the other side. Father gurgled and slid off his arm.

“I’m not your son!”

Hopkins came, and he twisted off his head in much the same way as he had done to the pidgey. They were all dead. Dead by his hands, their blood on his hands, just like he had promised.

Everything was red. Red and black and fire and pain and hate and he screamed and screamed and screamed. Rolling in it, drowning, falling, writhing…

And screaming. Always screaming.

To be continued…