"Poison?! Wh-wh-what are we going to do?!" Jessie asked nervously as she slid off one of her black gloves and bandaged James's shoulder with it.
"We got any antidotes?" Meowth asked. "Dat oughtta neutralize it."
"Good idea!" Jessie exclaimed as she began to root through their backpacks. She searched for several minutes but found nothing. Then, she smacked herself on the forehead as she remembered the events of the previous day. "Dammit! I forgot we used all of them to heal those pokemon we sent to the boss!"
James closed his eyes and exhaled loudly.
"Den why are we wastin' time, just standin' here?!" Meowth demanded. "We gotta get him to a hospital! Now!"
"I know that!" Jessie snapped. "But if he's poisoned, I don't want him walking or moving around -- that'll just make it circulate faster! Besides, we don't have the jeep, or the balloon, or any other kind of transportation with us, and we're not strong enough to carry him all the way back to the city. God, I wish Mondo were here...."
"Wait. I just got an idea!" Meowth interjected.
Upon hearing this, James opened his eyes, and Jessie nodded. "Mm-hmmm? Mm-hmmm?" they said, eager to hear what it was.
"Why don't I go back ta the city by myself and call an ambulance?" he suggested. "Dat way, James don't hafta exert himself...."
"That just might work!" said Jessie.
"Yeah," James agreed. "Besides, you'll make better time if you go by yourself. I'd just slow you down."
Meowth nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said as he began to sprint away. "Youse guys just hang tight!"
Please hurry, Meowth.... Jessie said to herself as she watched the cat disappear over the ridge.
Once he was gone, the black clouds of a late summer thunderstorm began to roll in, and a chill-wind started to blow, making James shiver. She knew it wouldn't be much help, but Jessie took off her jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders like he so often did for her when she was cold. "Come on," she said softly. "It's not safe out here, what with the weather and all the wild pokemon...let's find some shelter."
"How?" he asked. "You said yourself that you didn't want me to move...."
Jessie smiled at him and brought out one of her poke balls. "Arbok! Dig into the side of that cliff and make a cave for us," she commanded as she released her pokemon.
"Char-bok!" the cobra replied, burrowing into the stone. A few minutes later, she resurfaced and nodded.
"Good work, Arbok!" Jessie said, patting her head. "Now can you help me take James inside, please?"
Arbok nodded again and watched as Jessie gently placed James onto her back. She didn't know what had happened, but Jessie didn't look well, and James looked even worse -- all of the color had drained from his face, and his normally white jacket was covered with blood. Whatever it was, it had been worse than an ordinary blast-off. Slowly, Arbok made her way into the cave as Jessie steadied James and kept him from falling.
@->->-
"How are you feeling, James?" Jessie asked as she caressed his ashen face with her warm, soft hand.
"I've been better," he said only half-jokingly as he began to shiver again.
"We've got to keep you warm," she said, pulling his blue sleeping-bag out of his backpack and helping him into it. "Is that better?"
He nodded, and his trembling gradually subsided.
"Poison...." he said at length. "Did Meowth say what kind it was? I don't remember."
Jessie shook her head. "No, he didn't, but he seemed pretty concerned. I'm guessing it's something strong."
James rolled onto his left side and frowned. "How long do you think I have?"
"I wouldn't worry," she told him. "Meowth should only be gone for a couple of hours, and even if the poison is strong, it'll probably take longer than that to kick in."
This answer seemed to appease him, and he slowly leaned back and closed his eyes.
Jessie smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead. "That's right," she whispered. "Get some rest, James...."
Chapter 5 -- A Perfect Gentleman
A warm spring breeze was blowing, rustling the Spanish moss that dangled from the branches of the live oaks. The long leaves of a weeping willow played on the surface of the pond as a Magikarp leapt from the water and landed again with barely a splash.
The temptation was too great to resist!
Without hesitation, the boy took off his shoes and socks and waded in. The coolness of the water felt wonderful to his bare feet, and it only served to remind him of just how confining his suit was, especially on such a hot day. A few minutes later, his navy blue coat and pants and his white dress-shirt and black necktie were lying on the sandy bank of the pond with his shoes and socks.
The Growlithe, who'd been following the boy, laid down on the bank next to where he'd left his clothes. The puppy watched contentedly as his young master submerged himself in the water and began to swim around like a little fish.
Once his swim was finished, the boy climbed from the pond and stretched himself out next to his dog. Water was dripping from his shoulder-length blue-violet hair, and the puppy leaned over and began to lick him.
"Hey! That tickles, Growly!" he laughed.
When the Growlithe stopped licking him, the boy leaned back and yawned, letting the warm sun dry him.
But the tranquility of the moment was ended by two familiar voices:
"James, dahlin'?"
"James! Where are you, boy?"
"Oh, no!" the boy cried, his emerald-green eyes widening with fear. "I can't let them see me like this!"
Quickly, he got up and picked his clothes out of the sand in a frantic attempt to get dressed before his parents showed up.
But to no avail.
When Quentin and Judith Woodson crested the hill, the first thing they saw was their young son, soaking wet and in his underwear while his good suit lay in a rumpled heap in the sand.
"James!" Judith wailed.
"What in God's name is wrong with you, boy?!" Quentin demanded. "Have you completely forgotten that we're expectin' company today?!"
"What kind of first impression are you goin' to make, lookin' like somethin' the Persian just dragged in?!" Judith cried, fanning herself. "Whatever will our guest think of us?! Oh, dear! I'm gettin' the vapors just thinkin' about it!"
James rolled his eyes and did his best to tune out the lecture. He wanted to tell them that he could care less what the guest thought, but decided against it, knowing that if he argued, it would only lead to more lectures.
He knew full well the family was expecting company that afternoon, but that wasn't important to James. He just wanted the freedom to be himself -- to be a carefree child and not have to worry about keeping up appearances. And, on some subconscious level, he'd done this on purpose -- every time his parents berated him for not behaving properly, he'd go out and do something else improper, just to make them angry!
Nothing he did would ever be good enough for them, so there was no point in trying to please them, he reasoned.
@->->-
"Hopkins, keep Miss Coldfield occupied while we make our son presentable," Quentin said to the butler once they arrived back at the mansion.
"Honestly, Master James...." Hopkins said in an exasperated voice as he grabbed a tray of tea-cakes and headed for the sitting-room.
Once he'd been bathed and dressed in a new suit, Quentin and Judith brought their son down to the sitting-room. James gasped when he saw who their guest was.
She was, quite possibly, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. She was about his age, seven, and she had the face of an angel. Her scarlet hair was in two bouncy sausage-curls, and her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue -- like the color of the sky on a hot summer day. She held a large Oddish on her lap.
"James, dear, this is Jessiebelle Coldfield," said Judith. "Jessiebelle, this is our son, James."
James smiled. "Pleased to meet you," he said, extending his hand for her to shake.
"Hmmmmph! How crude!" Jessiebelle said snootily. "A gentleman should always kiss a lady's hand and bow to her when he introduces himself!"
James's smile quickly became a frown. Is this my parents' idea of a playmate?!
"Jessiebelle is here to teach you how to behave like a proper gentleman," Quentin said, as if he could read the boy's mind.
"And, once you're old enough, the two of you are to be married!" Judith chimed in.
"M-m-m-married?" James stammered. How can they be thinking of marriage already?! I don't even KNOW this girl...and we're just kids!
"Don't stutter, James! Enunciate!" Jessiebelle said.
"Oh, look! They're gettin' along already!" Judith cooed.
"Come, dear," Quentin said, taking his wife by the hand and leading her out of the sitting-room. "Let's leave these two love-birds alone so they can get aquainted."
Once his parents were gone, James turned his attention back to Jessiebelle and studied her more closely. She may have been pretty, but she was also very cold and bossy. He didn't like her...and his intuition told him that he shouldn't trust her either.
Well, maybe she was just nervous because of my parents, and she didn't know what to say to me, he thought, still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe now that we're alone, she'll lighten up a little....
"Kindly avert your eyes!" Jessiebelle said sternly. "It ain't proper for a gentleman to stare...especially not at a lady!"
James sighed. Jessiebelle isn't nervous, after all -- she really does have a big stick lodged up her rear! Still, if he and this girl were going to be married someday, he wanted to be friends with her, so he decided to try and break the ice again.
He went over to the coffee table, where Hopkins had set the serving-tray and took one of the little sugar-coated cakes. "Want a tea-cake?" he asked, holding the tray out to her. He then took a bite of the tea-cake he'd taken for himself. "They're really delicious. Our chef, Dalila, uses her own family recipie. I've even helped her make them a few times...."
"How impolite!" Jessiebelle snapped. "Don't you know the proper way to serve a guest?!"
James facefaulted. I thought I WAS being polite!
Jessiebelle seated herself next to him and launched into a lecture about the proper way to serve guests.
James looked at her in disbelief as she babbled on and on about proper ettiquette. He knew the basics, like always saying "please," "thank you," and "excuse me", but honestly! Did there really have to be rules for everything?
After berating him for the way he'd served the tea-cakes, Jessiebelle lectured him on how a "proper" gentleman never associates with the servants.
"But Dalila is my friend!" James protested. "She always lets me help her in the kitchen...."
"She is NOT your friend, James dear!" Jessiebelle snapped. "She is an employee. Your parents are payin' her -- she has no choice but to be civil to you!"
These words hit James like a slap across the face. He just couldn't imagine not being friends with the servants! Dalila the chef, Yvette the maid, Willy the gardener -- they all paid more attention to him than his parents ever did, and they were all friendly and down to earth. He enjoyed hanging out with them because they actually listened to him when he had something to say, and he was more interested in them than the stuffy rich people that his parents associated with.
As Jessiebelle continued to rant about how it was wrong to mingle with lower social classes, James did the exact same thing he did whenever his parents lectured him -- he tuned her out. He knew she was full of it, anyway. He knew that whether they were being paid or not, the servants really did like him. Dalila wouldn't give him cooking lessons or say that he was "sweeter than a little tea-cake" and make special treats just for him if it weren't so. And why else would Yvette buy toys for him and Willy plant a big rose garden for him and take him fishing? They'd done all of those things with their own money and on their own time. They'd done it because they cared about him.
Which was more than he could say for his parents, or this new girl.
James sighed again. If being a proper gentleman means buddying up to a bunch of phony snobs and ignoring your real friends, I'm not sure I want to be a proper gentleman....
@->->-
It went on like this for three years. Everywhere that James went, Jessiebelle followed and pointed out how improperly he was doing everything. She was determined to mold him into a proper gentleman by the time they were old enough to get married, and he was determined to resist all of her attempts to change him.
But Jessiebelle was relentless -- shortly after her arrival, she'd convinced his parents to fire Dalila, Yvette, Willy, and all of the other servants that James liked hanging out with because they were "corrupting" him. The only servant who hadn't been fired was Hopkins the butler, who'd always been more loyal to Quentin and Judith anyway.
Once James was alone and didn't have his friends to turn to anymore, Jessiebelle raised the stakes in their power-struggle. Whenever James tuned her out or told her to get lost when she lectured him, she and his parents would lock him in the basement. Jessiebelle had a torture chamber in the basement, and every day, she'd spend several hours in it, literally trying to beat propriety into him. Now that the servants were gone, there was nobody to hear him scream...nobody to stay Jessiebelle's hand when she lashed him with her whip.
Fortunately, James still had Growly. (Jessiebelle would've had him taken to the pound, but the Growlithe had a pedigree, and Quentin and Judith had spent thousands on him. They had no intention of getting rid of such an expensive pokemon...especially since they planned on breeding him someday and making even more of a fortune off of his pups.) Whenever James was able to get away from Jessiebelle, he'd sometimes hide from her in the rose garden or the dog-house, and Growly would protect him, but it wasn't enough. She always managed to catch him again. And whenever Jessiebelle would catch him, it only meant that more and worse torments were in store.
James had known on the day he met Jessiebelle that he could never love her, and after all of the torture she'd put him through, he knew that he couldn't spend the rest of his life with her. Neither one of them was going to change, and if she became his wife, she was only going to make his life more of a living hell than it already was.
So, one chilly evening in early winter, after a particularly excruciating day in Jessiebelle's torture chamber, James decided that he'd had enough and that he had to do something...anything to make the torment stop. He decided to run away.
@->->-
The lesson of the day had been table manners, so Jessiebelle decided to quiz him on what he'd learned over dinner. After the new cook (who wasn't nearly as good...or as friendly as Dalila) brought the spaghetti and meatballs to the table, Jessiebelle watched as James took his napkin and spread it out on his lap. She nodded approvingly. Then, James took his fork and twirled a bit of the spaghetti around it. She nodded again. As he brought the fork to his mouth, however, he took care to dribble some of the tomato sauce onto his frilly green tie.
"Oh, dear," he said. "I seem to have mussed my tie. May I please be excused, Jessiebelle? I really must get cleaned up."
Jessiebelle rolled her eyes. "Yes, you may be excused," she replied in an exasperated voice.
"Thank you," he said, removing the napkin from his lap and getting up from the table.
"Barbarian," he heard her grumble as he left the room.
Once he was out of the dining room, James grinned and made a run for the door.
"James, where do you think you're goin'?!"
James looked over his shoulder and saw Jessiebelle standing in the hallway. She probably wanted to follow him to his room and make sure he knew the proper way to put on his tie. Oh, no! I'm in big trouble if she gets me this time! he said to himself.
"You get back here this instant, James!" she said, giving chase.
"No! Please, leave me alone!" he cried as he bolted out the front doors of the mansion.
"Come back, James!" Jessiebelle called as she ran after him, her Oddish in tow to paralyze him with Stun Spore. "I'm not finished showin' you the proper way to eat spaghetti!"
"Growly!" James shouted.
Growly emerged from his shopping mall-sized dog house and followed his young master.
"I want to do things my way, Jessiebelle!" James said over his shoulder. "I just want the freedom to be myself!"
"You're not runnin' properly, James dear!"
This remark only made him run faster.
"James, you're not...."
"James!"
"Hnnnh?"
"James, I said you're not looking well!"
Slowly, James opened his eyes and saw a red-haired girl kneeling next to him.
"No! No! Get away from me, Jessiebelle! Leave me alone!" James cried.
"James!"
"NO!" he screamed. He struggled to get away from her, but he felt as if he were being held down by a great weight. Shit! The crazy bitch probably got her Vileplume to use Stun Spore on me again!
As Jessiebelle reached for him, panic siezed James, and he reacted the only way he was able to -- the way a caged animal would react. When she laid her hand on him, James grabbed her by the wrist.
"James! Stop! You're hurting me!" Jessiebelle cried.
But James didn't listen -- he just tightened his hold on her wrist and violently shoved her away from him. As Jessiebelle went sprawling to the floor, a white-hot pain shot through his arm and shoulder, making the world come back into focus.
"James, it's me! Jessie!"
James looked around and found himself in a small cave. He was zipped in his sleeping-bag, and he had a puncture wound on his right shoulder. A puncture wound made by a poisoned arrow. Then, he looked over at Jessie, who was slowly picking herself up from the jagged, rocky floor of the cave. She wasn't wearing her jacket or her gloves, and he could see that red marks were forming on her wrists where he'd grabbed her. Blood was dripping from the scrapes that now covered her elbows and arms.
"Jessie!" he gasped. "Oh, God, Jessie, I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay, James," she said softly, kneeling by his side again. "You were just having a bad dream."
James began to cry as he looked up at her. Jessie had been physically abused by one of her ex-boyfriends, and James had promised that he'd never treat her the way Antonio had. He'd promised that his hands would never do anything to hurt her, but he'd just broken that promise. "I'm so sorry...so sorry...." he whimpered.
"Shhh...." Jessie whispered, taking him in her arms. "I'm not mad at you, James. You were hallucinating, and you thought I was Jessiebelle. I'd have been scared too, if I thought that psycho was coming for me."
Sobs wracked his body as he buried his face in her shoulder and wrapped his left arm around her. "That's no excuse for what I did to you, Jessie!" he cried. "I hurt you! I'll never forgive myself for that...."
Jessie held him closer and began to run her fingers through his hair. "No, James," she said. "Please don't blame yourself -- I know you didn't do it on purpose."
"I'm so sorry, Jessie...."
Jessie kissed him on the cheek and gently brushed his tears away. "Are you hungry, James?" she asked, changing the subject. "Would you like something to eat?"
He shook his head.
"I think we both know that's not true," she told him. "You haven't had anything since breakfast. Now stop punishing yourself about this and let me make you some food! You have to keep your strength up!"
"Okay...." he said weakly. "I'll eat something...."
"How about soup? Would you like some soup?"
He nodded.
"Okay. I'll make some for you."
James watched as Jessie dug a small pot and a can of chicken vegetable soup out of his backpack. He noticed that she'd gathered some wood and gotten her Vulpix to make a fire while he was asleep. The fire wasn't very large, but it was casting a warm, rosy glow onto the walls of the cave, and it was keeping the dank chill of the earth at bay.
Once the soup was heated, Jessie came back to his side. "I know I'm not a very good cook," she said jokingly. "If there's any way to screw this up, I've probably just found it!"
James chuckled. "Oh, come on. You're not that bad," he told her.
Jessie smiled and blew on a spoonful of soup in order to cool it off. "Is that okay?" she asked as she fed it to him.
"Yes. Thank you," he replied.
When James had finished all of the soup, Jessie washed his face with a damp cloth and rebandadged his shoulder with her other glove. Then, she massaged his back and shoulders, working the pain and stiffness out of his muscles.
"How are you feeling now, James?" she asked as she tucked him back into his sleeping-bag.
"A little better. Thank you," he said. Then, with a weak smile, "You know, I think maybe we should've taken Meowth's advice and gone to the beach instead."
Jessie chuckled. "Yeah. Maybe."
"Speaking of Meowth, when do you think he's going to get back?"
"I don't know...he should've been here by now...."
"Don't worry...he'll probably show up any minute," James said when he saw how upset Jessie had become by this thought.
"Yeah...yeah, I know."
James closed his eyes and sighed.
"Do you need me to do anything else for you, James?" she asked.
He opened his eyes again and looked up at her. As he gazed at Jessie, he found himself thinking about the time she'd gotten sick after being poisoned by Jessiebelle's Vileplume. It was almost the exact same situation...only this time it was reversed. The look of concern in her sapphire-blue eyes told James that she'd do anything he asked of her.
"Jessie?"
"Yes?"
"Will...will you sing to me?"
"Of course. What do you want me to sing?"
"Anything. It doesn't matter. I just need to hear your voice, Jess."
Jessie smiled when he said this. Then, after a moment's pause, she began to sing a song that her mother had sung for her when she was a child. A song that always made her feel good and gave her hope. A song that held deep meaning for her and James:
Just one step at a time,
And the closer to destiny --
I knew at a glance,
There'd always be a chance for me:
With someone I could live for,
There's nowhere I would rather be.
Is your love strong enough?
Like the rock and the sea?
Am I asking too much?
Is your love strong enough?
Just one beat of your heart,
And stranger than fantasy --
I knew from the start,
It had to be the place for me:
With someone I would die for,
There's no way I could ever leave.
Is your love strong enough?
Like the rock and the sea?
Am I asking too much?
Is your love strong enough?
When she finished singing, James closed his eyes and smiled. "That was so beautiful, Jess," he whispered. "You have the voice of an angel...."
Jessie leaned down and kissed him. "Get some rest now," she said. "I'll wake you up when Meowth gets here."
James nodded and drifted back to sleep, hoping to have pleasant dreams of his Jessie...his angel.
@->->-
Once he was asleep, Jessie crawled out of the cave and seated herself on the face of the cliff.
Unsettling thoughts plagued her as she gazed up at the dark sky. James had been shot early that afternoon, and it was now dusk. Where the hell is Meowth?! she wondered. He should've been back hours ago! What's taking him so long?! Was he attacked by wild pokemon before he even got out of the Safari Zone, and now he's lying somewhere, hurt himself? Was he captured by some overzealous trainer, thrilled at the prospect of owning the world's only talking pokemon? Or did something even worse happen?
Jessie shook her head and tried to dismiss these worries, but it didn't work. Time was of the essence, and every minute that Meowth didn't show up made it less likely that James would be okay.
And she knew just how desperate the situation was. While he was sleeping earlier, she'd brought out Arbok, in hopes that the poisonous snake would be able to identify the venom on the arrowhead. And Arbok did, indeed, know what kind of poison it was -- a powerful neurotoxin that shut the body down after a couple days of excruciating pain. Hallucinations and lethargy were the first symptoms (which James was already showing), and soon they would give way to delerium, and finally, death -- without treatment, James would die!
Just thinking about it was more than Jessie could stand. "Please hurry, Meowth...James's life depends on it, and so does mine -- I can't live without him!" she whispered into the night as she began to cry.
Chapter 6 -- The Misfits
"Okay, class, we have a very special guest today!" the teacher announced as the students for Type Identification 101 filed into the classroom and took their seats. "To get our semester off to a great start, Pallet Town's own Professor Oak is here to introduce you to fire, water, and grass type pokemon. Professor?"
A gentleman in his early fifties entered the room and took the podium. The students applauded.
"Ah! Good morning, class," Professor Oak said as he shuffled a stack of notes about.
"Good morning, Professor Oak!" the thirty students said in unison.
Professor Oak smiled. "Yes. Well, as your teacher said, I'm here to show you the three basic types of pokemon -- fire, water, and grass. There are many other types, of course, but for now, we'll just concentrate on these." With that, he brought out three poke balls and released a Charmander, a Squirtle, and a Bulbasaur.
The students squealed with delight when they saw the pokemon.
"Now, all of these pokemon have different strengths and weaknesses," Oak continued. "For example, Charmander, here, is a fire type. Who can tell me which of these other pokemon it would be strong against?"
Several students raised their hands. "Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! PICK ME!!!" a violet-haired boy in the front row cried as he waved his arm about.
"You," Oak said, pointing to the boy. "What's your name?"
"James!"
"Well, James, which one is it?"
"Bulbasaur!" he replied.
"You're absolutely correct, James!" said Professor Oak. "Since Charmander is a fire type, his attacks are extremely effective against grass pokemon like Bulbasaur...."
James smiled proudly as Professor Oak continued his lecture. Of COURSE grass pokemon are weak against fire! I know that! He chuckled as he fondly remembered how Growly always used to roast Jessiebelle's Oddish with a Flamethrower attack whenever she tried to paralyze him with Stun Spore.
Jessiebelle. She was the reason he was here at Pokemon Tech. It had been about a month since the night he ran away from home, but he had no regrets. He'd had to give up his inheritance, but the idea of marriage to that red-haired demon was infinitely worse!
@->->-
James closed his eyes and sighed as he looked back on that bittersweet night. After escaping from the mansion, Jessiebelle had given chase and told him that he wasn't running properly. She then sent her Oddish to paralyze him and keep him from getting away. Before it could do anything, however, Growly attacked it and made Jessiebelle retreat.
Once they were safe, James made his way to his late grand-papa's estate, which was several miles to the north. Old James Morgan (whom James was named after) was his mother's father, and he was also the only relative who'd ever cared for him. James still had fond memories of his dear, old grand-papa -- how he'd always read to him and drawn pictures with him, how they'd tended roses together, how they'd collected bottle-caps together, how he'd always let James wear jeans and t-shirts instead of the stuffy clothes his parents always dressed him in, how he'd always let James be himself and not criticize him for it...he even remembered how his grand-papa had once taken care of him and nursed him back to health when he got sick after inhaling some of the Stun Spores from Jessiebelle's Oddish. But most importantly of all, James remembered something his grand-papa had told him shortly before his death....
@->->-
When Jim Morgan got sick shortly after his eightieth birthday, he knew it was the end. Before he passed on, however, he'd called his young grandson to his bedside. "James...I have somethin' to tell you...somethin' important...." he began.
"What is it, grand-papa?" James asked, taking the old man's hands in his own.
"James, if I had a choice, I'd leave my entire estate to you, but I can't. You wouldn't be able to claim it until you turn eighteen, and your parents would just waste all of the money or find some way to use it against you," he said.
James frowned. The money didn't matter to him, but he knew all too well how manipulative his parents could be.
"I'm leavin' you a little somethin', though," he continued, pulling James closer so that he could whisper into his ear. "After I'm gone, I want you to go out to my rose garden and dig under the bush with the white roses on it. The money you find under that rose bush is yours, and I'm leavin' everythin' else to charity -- after the way my Judy and that no good husband of hers treated you, I ain't leavin' them a damned cent!"
Tears welled up in James's green eyes. He knew his grand-papa was dying, but all the talk of inheritances just drove the point home.
"Shhh...don't cry for me, James," the old man whispered, brushing his grandson's tears away. "It's my time -- I've lived my life. But you? Your life is just beginnin', and I don't want your parents or that little harpy they engaged you to ruinin' it! I want you to take that money and use it to get away from here. Promise me, James. Promise me you won't let your parents or Jessiebelle run your life. Promise me that you'll go out and live your life the way you choose to live it. Promise me you'll marry a girl you really do love. Promise me...."
James nodded. "I promise."
The old man smiled and closed his emerald-green eyes. "Good," he whispered. "Because of all the things that I have -- my money, my mansion, my property...you matter more to me than all of it put together. My daughter and her husband couldn't have asked for a better son than you, and it's a damned shame that they're too blind to see it! And that's why my final wish is for you to be happy. You deserve better than Jessiebelle -- there's some girl out there who was made for you, and I want you to go and find her instead of settlin' for what you've got now. Go and find your soul-mate, James. Don't let Jessiebelle crush your soul...."
"I will, grand-papa. I promise," James whispered.
Satisfied that his grandson would keep his word, Jim Morgan nodded and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
"I'll make you proud of me, grand-papa," James vowed as he leaned down and kissed the old man on his forehead. "I promise...."
@->->-
Old James Morgan died three days later, and the night of the spaghetti incident had taken place a month after his funeral. When James escaped from Jessiebelle and returned to his grand-papa's estate (which was slated to become a park now that it had been donated to charity), he remembered that his inheritance was buried under the white rose bush.
James's grand-papa had loved roses, and he'd instilled that love for roses in his grandson. He'd always said that they were the most beautiful and fragrant of flowers, and his garden had a bush for every color imaginable. There were peach roses, yellow roses, pink roses, blue roses, purple roses, red roses...and white roses.
Once James and Growly located the white rose bush, Growly dug into the dirt and unearthed a large box. When James pulled the box out of the hole and opened it, he found $100,000 inside along with a note. Unfolding the paper, James found a message written in his grand-papa's smooth, flowing script:
Dear James,
I know this money isn't much, all things considered, but I know you'll put it to good use. I know you'll use it to make a better life for yourself. And knowing that you've used it to make yourself happy will make me rest easy. Follow the road that you choose rather than the one that others choose for you, and you'll find true happiness. Be well, James, and above all else, be true to yourself.
Love always,
Grand-papa
James began to cry again as he read the note from his grand-papa. No amount of money would ever be able to make up for the loss of someone who'd truly loved him, but he was determined not to let his grand-papa down. "I will, grand-papa. I'll make you proud of me," he whispered into the night, renewing his vow that he'd made a month earlier.
After spending the night in his grand-papa's mansion, James packed some of his belongings that he'd kept there -- some comfortable clothes, his bottle-cap collection, some sketchbooks, and a few other odds and ends. Then, he picked one rose from each bush in his grand-papa's rose garden and set out to make his dreams...and the old man's dying wish come true.
Shortly after he began his journey, the first snows of winter began to fall, and James decided to send Growly back home. He was reluctant to part with his dog, but he knew that life on the road wouldn't be good for him. Growly was used to his hundred room dog-house and three five-course meals a day, and James didn't want him to give that up for his sake. His parents had always treated Growly well, and James knew that they'd take good care of him. Besides, even though Quentin and Judith cared nothing for James, he still loved them, and he wanted Growly to stay behind and watch over them.
Before parting ways with the dog, however, James promised that once he was able to be the master Growly deserved, he'd come back for him. Once he'd made a life for himself, he'd return. He'd show his parents and Jessiebelle once and for all that they held no sway over him, and then, Growly could rejoin him, and the two of them would never be apart again.
Parting ways had hurt both James and Growly deeply, but it would only be for awhile. And it was for the best.
@->->-
And now, he was here. James had used the money his grand-papa left him to pay for tuition at the illustrious Pokmeon Tech. He already had a well-rounded education, and he was extremely cultured for a boy of ten, but when James saw the school, his intuition told him that he should enroll. He'd never really thought of becoming a pokemon trainer before, but when he'd entered the school and signed up for classes, something told him that it would be worth his while.
@->->-
"....And who can tell me which of these pokemon would be strong against Charmander?" Professor Oak asked once he'd finished his first lecture. "....Yes...you!" he said, pointing to another student. "What's your name, young lady?"
"Jessie."
James looked over his shoulder and saw a ten-year-old girl sitting a couple of rows behind him. His blood ran cold when he realized who it was -- Jessiebelle!
"Can you tell me which pokemon would be strong against Charmander, Jessie?"
The girl nodded. "Squirtle," she replied.
James sweatdropped and turned away from her. Jessiebelle was wearing her hair straight instead of in those two big sausage-curls now, and she was using a shorter name, but there was no mistaking who she was -- that face was pretty distinctive, after all!
Oh, God! How did she find me?! he thought as he slid down in his desk. He cast another glance at her out of the corner of his eye, and she looked over at him. James quickly turned away again. I should've known she wasn't going to make this easy -- she's stalking me! I'm never going to escape....
Professor Oak continued to lecture, but in James's mind, his voice sounded like it was a hundred miles away. For the rest of the class period, he was unable to concentrate. All he could think about was Jessiebelle and whether or not he was going to be able to get away from her this time.
@->->-
"Hey, kid!"
James looked around and saw an older boy heading towards him. "What?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He wasn't normally so curt with people, but he really didn't have time to stop and chat -- he had to find a place to hide before Jessiebelle showed up again!
"Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! Pick me!" the boy said mockingly. "You think yer pretty goddamned smart, don't ya? Well, lemme ask ya this, brainiac! Can ya kick MY ass?"
James sweatdropped and began to back away. He'd learned a lot of things, but he'd never learned how to fight. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with somebody twice his size. "No...no, I don't think I can," he replied meekly.
"And I thought I had issues!"
James looked and saw Jessiebelle standing behind the boy.
"Get lost, little girl! This ain't none of yer business!" he growled.
"Hey, when I see a guy as stupid and pathetic as you picking on somebody, I think I'll MAKE it my business!" she retorted.
James raised an eyebrow. What happened to Jessiebelle's Southern accent? And why's she challenging this guy? Fighting doesn't strike me as very...ladylike....
"You think you can take me, ya little bitch?" he laughed.
"Bring it on, wuss!" she said.
The boy charged towards her, but she stopped him with a roundhouse kick to the groin. Then, she floored him with a left hook.
James couldn't believe what he was seeing! Whoever this girl was, she sure wasn't Jessiebelle!
The boy put a hand over his bloody nose and began to crawl away. "Goddamn it! Goddamned little whore!" he growled.
Once his assailant was gone, James turned to the girl. "Uh, thanks," he said.
"Don't mention it," she replied, smoothing her mane of crimson hair and brushing off her rumpled uniform. "That guy's an asshole -- he had it coming."
James breathed a sigh of relief when he heard her speak again. No, this definitely isn't Jessiebelle, he said to himself.
Fist-fighting and swearing were things that Jessiebelle was appalled by, and this girl had done both as if they were second nature. She'd thought nothing of beating up that other student, and the casual way in which she'd cursed told him that foul language was a regular part of her vocabulary. This didn't turn James off or disgust him, however. If anything, he found this girl's grittiness refreshing.
James looked more closely at her. Even though she had the exact same face as his fiance, there was something different about her eyes. They were a deeper shade of blue, more of a purply sapphire color than Jessiebelle's pale sky-blue ones. And the way the light shined in them was different, too. In Jessiebelle's eyes, he never saw anything but criticism and disapproval, but when he looked at this girl, there was something friendly...familiar. He'd never seen her before in his life, but he felt like he'd known her forever.
He was about to ask the girl who she was, but before he could say anything, the dean showed up and grabbed her by the arm.
"I saw that!" he said. "The only fighting allowed in this school is authorized pokemon battles. You get five demerits for rough-housing!"
"But he was picking on...."
"Arguing with me? That's five more demerits!" the dean said as he led her away. "You'll be scraping gum from under the desks for the next ten days, you little ragamuffin!"
James knew that if he interfered, he'd just get in trouble too, but he had to talk to this girl. He needed to find out who she was...where she'd come from. So, he followed her.
@->->-
Sure enough, when James finally caught up to the girl, she was scraping wads of bubble gum from the undersides of the desks in one of the auditorium-sized lecture halls.
"Hey," he said as he approached her.
The girl stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. "What're you doing here?" she asked.
"I...just wanted to thank you again for sticking up for me back there," he replied. "....And to apologize for getting you in trouble."
"It's not your fault," she said, resuming her work.
"Why'd you do it?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Do I need a reason?"
"No. But I get the feeling you had one anyway."
"What makes you say that?"
"I saw it in your eyes," he told her.
The girl frowned and turned away from him.
"Need some help?" he asked, kneeling by her side.
The girl looked back at him. "Why are you being so goddamned nice?! Why would YOU want to help ME?!" she demanded.
"A lot of reasons!" came his reply. "Because you saved me from that guy, because you got in trouble for my sake, because...because I just want to, okay?! Why can't you let me do something nice for you?!"
"Too many expectations," she said. "Too many strings attatched. It's just not worth it."
"I don't expect anything," he told her. "I just want to talk to you...give you a little help, that's all. That's what friends do -- they help each other and don't expect anything in return."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So we're friends now, are we?"
James smiled at her. "I'd like to be," he said.
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"Why not?" came his reply.
The girl turned away from him again.
"Look, I've...I've never met anybody like you before," James said.
"Yeah, yeah. Throw your change at the three-ring freak...just like everybody else," she grumbled.
"That's not what I meant at all!" James cried.
"Then what did you mean?!"
"I meant what I said -- I've never met anybody like you before," he told her. "Practically everybody I've ever known -- my family, other kids...they've always been so phony. Going through life just trying to impress people. But you? You just come right out and say what you're thinking! I like that...I like you."
She hung her head. "That makes one."
"Please," James said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I just want to be your friend. No expectations, no strings attatched -- all I want is a chance."
The girl studied him for a few minutes. Then, she pulled her lips into a smirk-smile. "You know, normally, I don't give a Raticate's ass when Nate beats people up like that, but I didn't want him beating you up."
James raised an eyebrow.
"You want to know the truth?" she said. "I like you, too. Don't know why, but something tells me you're different. It's just that...I've never had a friend before...not one that I've been able to keep, anyway. And I don't really know what to do...."
James smiled. "Don't worry -- I've never really had a friend before either. What do you say we figure this out together?"
The girl returned his smile. "I'd like that."
James's smile became a grin as he grabbed another scraper from the bucket and began to help the girl with her task.
"So, what's your name, kid?" she asked.
"I'm James Eric Woodson, Esquire!" he said proudly.
She smirked. "Well, hello, Mr. Fancy-Pants!"
He blushed. "But everybody just calls me James," he added sheepishly.
"Well, if we're going to be formal, I'm Jessica Rachael Parker," she told him. "But everybody just calls me Jessie."
James held his hand out. "Pleased to meet you, Jessie."
Jessie grabbed his hand with her own and shook firmly. "Pleased to meet you, James."
Yes, this girl definitely wasn't Jessiebelle.
@->->-
So, for the rest of the afternoon (and the next nine days), Jessie and James scraped gum together. And once the ice had been broken and they got to talking, James realized just how much they had in common.
Like him, Jessie had come to Pokemon Tech because she was running from the past and wanted to make something of herself. She came from a poor family that could never possibly afford Pokemon Tech's tuition, and her mother had made a huge sacrifice in order to enroll her in the school.
When he heard this, James felt a little guilty and decided against telling her about his rich family. The exorbitant tuition had been mere pocket change to him, and with the inheritance his grand-papa had left, the opportunity to come to this school had literally been handed to him. True, the years of torment at the hands of Jessiebelle and the coldness of his parents had been utterly miserable, but compared to what Jessie had faced, his problems seemed inconsequential.
Still, it amazed him how much Jessie's life sounded like his own. For the first time in his life, James felt like he had a true friend -- somebody who not only understood him, but could accept him the way he was. Other children had always hated James. When he was in elementary school, none of his classmates would associate with him -- they'd all been phony snobs like Jessiebelle, and none of them ever wanted to have any kind of fun. James had been the proverbial square peg in the round hole. And normal children had hated him, too. They always took one look at James and thought he was a snob like all the other rich kids, just because of the way his parents dressed him. Nobody had ever seen James for who he truly was or given him a chance until now.
And it was the same for Jessie. During their conversations, he learned that her schoolmates had always hated her because she never fit in either. She'd never been able to afford the latest fashions or the newest toys, and everybody had thought her a loser because of it. She'd always thought friendship was about using people for what they had or what they could offer, and she'd wanted no part of it.
But now that they'd met each other, all of that had changed. They were two misfits from two completely different worlds, but something told them that this friendship was going to work. The pain of their pasts would only serve to strengthen the bond they shared.
You're my best friend, Jessie!" James said to her one day as they walked to class together.
"And you're mine, too, James!"
He put an arm around her shoulders. "And we'll always be best friends! Forever!"
Jessie smiled and returned the embrace. "Till the end of time...at least!"
James awoke to pink firelight glowing on the walls of the cave...and a pair of strong arms wrapped around him. While he was asleep, Jessie had zipped herself into the sleeping-bag with him, and she was keeping him warm with her body heat.
Normally James would have enjoyed this, but his body had grown so numb that he could barely feel her snuggled against him. The only thing he could really feel was the burning pain in his arm and shoulder.
He tried to ignore it by focusing on his sleeping lover instead. He enjoyed watching Jessie while she slept. Asleep, all of her fierceness and intensity was gone, and she looked like an innocent little girl. Like somebody who was at peace with the world...and herself.
He put his left arm around her and pulled her closer to him. Then, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips against hers. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and he smiled at the thought that he'd awakened his sleeping beauty with a kiss.
"Hey, James," she said as her sapphire eyes met his emerald ones. "How're you doing?"
James smiled. "Do you want me to say that I'm fine, or do you want the truth?" he chuckled.
She didn't think it was very funny. "I really want to know, James."
"I don't feel well at all...everything is numb except for my shoulder...."
Jessie frowned. His body was beginning to shut down. "God, when is Meowth going to get here?" she said.
"What time is it?" James asked.
"It's morning," came her reply. "He's been gone all night! I even sent our pokemon to keep a lookout, and they didn't see him!"
James closed his eyes again. "Jessie...can I ask you a favor?"
"Anything," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.
"If Meowth doesn't get back in time...and I don't make it...well...I never made a will, but I guess you know that I'm leaving all my stuff to you. My roses, my bottle-cap collection, my sketchbooks, all the rest of my junk...and my pokemon. Jessie, I want you to have Weezing and Victreebel. Please take good care of them for me?"
Jessie smiled weakly. "Ask me again sometime...preferably when we're old and gray," she said.
Suddenly, she found her mind drifting back to the time that she and James had dressed up as an elderly couple in one of their schemes to capture Pikachu. Jessie hadn't been particularly fond of her costume (she was disturbed by anything that reminded her of the fleeting nature of youth and beauty), but she thought James looked very handsome as an old man. Tears began to well up in her eyes at the thought of never being able to see him like that. Growing old scared her, but the thought of life without James scared her even more. She would gladly give up her youth, her beauty, anything if it meant he could stay with her forever.
"I'm being serious here," he told her. "Just promise me?"
"Okay, James...I promise," she replied, unable to hold back her tears anymore.
"Shhhh...don't cry, Jess," he whispered, brushing them away.
"I can't help it...I don't want to lose you, James!" she sobbed.
James smiled at her and chuckled. "Is this the same girl who said at Maiden's Peak, and I quote: Girls like her disgust me -- always waiting around for their man like they're his faithful pet! They can't stand the thought of losing him! They cry, but I say, 'See ya later! There's plenty of other fish in the sea!'"
This remark only made Jessie cry even more. "Oh, James, I wasn't being serious when I said that! Don't you know that by now?! I was just trying to act tough while I was fighting that ghost! And those three twerps were there -- I sure as hell didn't want THEM to see me get emotional or know how I really felt about you...." But then, her voice caught in her throat, and all she could do was sob.
James wrapped his good arm around her and held her as close as he possibly could. "I'm sorry, Jess," he said. "I was only joking...."
She gave no reply, just buried her face in his left shoulder and continued to cry. Ignoring the burning pain in his right arm, he reached over and began to stroke her hair.
"You were right about one thing, though," she said when she was finally able to control her sobbing.
"What's that?" he asked.
"I'm not like that Maiden -- I wouldn't sit on some rock and wait for you for 2,000 years, like she did for her lover...."
James raised an eyebrow.
"....I would've followed you!" she continued. "If you were the soldier, and I, the Maiden, I wouldn't have sat around waiting for you...I'd have gone with you to war -- stood by your side, fought by your side...and died by your side! That's what REAL love is about -- taking action!"
James tightened his hold on her, and Jessie did the same to him. "Yeah," he said. "You really would do that for me, wouldn't you?"
"How could I not?" she replied. "You're my best friend, James!"
"And you're mine, too, Jessie!"
"And we'll always be best friends! Forever!"
"Till the end of time...at least!" he whispered into her ear. "Till the end of time, Jessie...."