"Oh. Were you looking for me perhaps?" Misty gave me the sort of look my old school teacher used when she’d caught me in some horrible mess that had seemed like a good idea. "And that’s why you’re investigating Mr Giovanni’s private study?"

"I . . . if you’ll let me explain . . ."

"Start now," Misty said. "Or I’ll call the police."

"The police?" I spluttered.

"I’m sure Scotland Yard will be interested in what you’re doing poking around in the study of a famous scientist," Misty said at me. "Either you and your grandfather leave this house tonight or you’ll be getting a very thorough tour of the British prison system."

I gave her a long look. She glared back at me . . . but . . .

"You’re bluffing."

"What?"

"You’re not going to call anyone."

"Aren’t I?" Misty crossed to the door. "Just watch me."

"You’re not going to call anyone," I said. "Because calling them might lead to questions. Like what exactly this research is that Giovanni is doing. And you wouldn’t want that."

"And why wouldn’t I?" Misty said defiantly. But the fear was back in her eyes. I have hunches like this sometimes. Mostly during exams. It felt like that now.

"Because you’re not just Giovanni’s ward, are you? You’re one of the subjects in his experiments."

"You’re mad! That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard!"

"Fine. Then go ahead and call the police." I leaned back against the wall and waited.

Misty turned her hands over anxiously.

"I thought so."

"You still shouldn’t be here. Mr Giovanni keeps his most precious papers in here . . . he doesn’t like them disturbed."

"Well maybe you can help me fix that. Show me where the passage is."

"You know—"

"I know."

Misty sighed. She crossed to the bookcase on the other side of the room and pulled out one volume. Behind it was a button. She pressed it once and the bookcase swung back, revealing a steep flight of stairs straight down.

"There."

I bowed. "Ladies first."

She rustled past me in an angry murmur of skirts. I think she was swearing. I followed her with a smirk. Hey, I worked long and hard to have that effect on people.

"Unbelievable." I looked around the dark room and whistled. "So this is what he does."

"He’s isolated the sources of the different pokemon powers and tried manipulating them. To make them more powerful and combine them."

"I see." I looked at the cages piled wall to wall. The pokemon within them looked out at me with varying degrees of distrust and fear. I brushed the bars of one grimy cage and looked at the Bulbasaur within. "Poor little fellow."

"You shouldn’t stand so close to him. He’s been known to attack people." Misty said. "I’ve been told the only person who could control him is Ashton."

"Is? You know Ashton?" I said turning round in surprise.

"No. I mean, he died years ago. Before I got here . . ."

"But you said is."

"Well I made a mistake!" Misty snapped. "Now have you finished looking around?"

"Not yet," I turned back to the cages. I heard Misty exhale an impatient breath as I continued my circuit of the cages. The pokemon watched me. I watched them . . . I stopped outside a particular cage.

"Is this a Pikachu?"

"Why?" Misty asked me. "Don’t they have them in the colonies?"

"We have them," I said. "They just generally don’t have wings."

She was silent.

"What good does Giovanni get out of all this?"

"He believes he can change the world," Misty said. "You haven’t heard him. He really believes in his research."

"Do you?"

"He’s a genius," Misty said. "He’s accomplished a lot. He just needs time."

"I see."

"A lot of this is the firm. They’ve been pushing him. They don’t want to wait you see. He has to take risks."

"Risks?"

Misty sighed, absently patting a dozy Vaporeon. "There’s a lot of fine tuning yet to be done. This Vaporeon . . . it has to be sedated constantly, it’s in that much pain . . ."

"That’s horrible."

"It’s science," Misty said. "Are you sure you’re a scientist?"

I changed the subject. "What do you know about the firm?"

"Very little. They don’t contact us much . . . only when they want something. They’ll be coming tomorrow."

"What happened to the Vaporeon?"

"He took something from it. It’s power I think. It’s not anything physical—at least that we can tell. But it hurts all the time."

"How did he do it?"

"Here," Misty led me to a large machine. It took up an entire room on it’s own.

"It’s huge."

"Yes."

"And I suppose the Vaporeon was put here and connected to it with these . . . and that over there . . . that would be for the recipient of the powers."

"Me."

I stared. Miss Waterflower had really caught me off guard with that one.

She pulled up her sleeves. "This is in complete confidence?"

I nodded mutely. The delicate light blue fins that graced either wrist . . .

Well it explained a lot.

"And that’s everything. Now what are you going to do about it?"

"What?"

"He’s hasn’t broken any laws. When I agreed to this, I knew the risks. The only thing I want now is to be left alone."

"I won’t tell anyone about you. If that’s what you want."

"It is. Now Garrick Oak, your grandfather will be back soon. I suggest you don’t tell him about this . . . and I won’t tell Giovanni."

We were silent on the return trip up to the study. "I told you all I know,"

Misty said. "Is it too much to ask you why you’re here?"

I decided she deserved to know. "Your fiancé is worried about you. He was hoping we might be able to work out why you weren’t pleased to see him."

"Ritchie?" Misty went pale.

I fought back the urge to ask her how many fiances she had and kept talking to cover her confusion and allow her time to recover. "He’s very worried about you."

"I can’t see him . . ."

"Why?"

"Well how can I? Not when I like this—look at me! I’m an experiment gone wrong!"

"Um . . ."

"When Giovanni has found the way to fix my appearance, yes. Until then, I’d prefer it if he didn’t find out . . ."

"If you’re planning on marrying Goodwin, surely you must be able to tell him things like this," I started but Miss Waterflower turned on me furious.

"Can you imagine what it would do to me if he saw me like this and hated me? I’d die."

"You exaggerate-" I said.

"You’re a scientist," She said. "I can tell you. But there was a man here from the Firm once . . . he wasn’t supposed to see . . ." Misty gulped and I noticed that she was crying. I found my handkerchief quickly and began to wipe her tears away gently—so I can be the gentleman when I want to be. It’s just more fun getting on people’s nerves.

"It’s all right."

"No it isn’t—it’s all wrong! He said I was a, a freak! A monster . . ." Misty struggled a little bit longer then gave in and cried on my shoulder. I dealt with her the best I could—while I’m not entirely unsympathetic, damsels in distress, particularly weeping ones, are not my strong point.

"Thank-you," she said, finally, blowing her nose.

"You’re welcome," I said and since I was feeling magnanimous I added, "Keep the handkerchief."

I returned to my room to think. What should I do with what I knew?

That same question kept me awake that night. What should I do? I suppose I’d have to tell my grandfather, without actually saying it, that Misty did not wish us to be worrying about her . . . I sighed again. I really needed someone to talk to.

"Ash?"

The shifting of the house was my only answer.

"Ash? C’mon, you’re not still mad at me, are you?"

Then again he’d never before appeared when I’d purposely wanted him to . . .

"Ash? If you don’t come to me, I’ll go looking for you. I mean it."

Still no answer. I pulled on my robe and went out of my bedroom. As I opened doors aimlessly, I thought I felt an interest quicken in the air around me. I smiled to myself.

"Ash?"

There was a thud behind me. I turned to see a red ball roll down the corridor and stop at my foot. I picked it up. It was hard and it's surface worn.

It looked as if it had rolled out of that door there . . .

That door led to a flight of stairs going straight up. I climbed the stairs with the ball in hand and found myself in a loft. It was full of the sort of junk that people's lofts generally are . . . a dressmaker's dummy, an ornate baby carriage among boxes and boxes of assorted stuff.

In one corner beside a cracked window there was a rectangular bat, a set of wickets and assorted cricketing stuff, all in a pretty advanced state of wear.

I picked up the bat experimentally. It felt different to the bats we used back home . . .

"You don't swing it like that. What are you trying to do, break the window?" I smiled, putting the bat down. "I wondered when you'd show up. So, this is your stuff?"

"Yeah . . . I was good at cricket. Come over here."

I think he was nervous. I couldn't see him, although I kept thinking I did just out of the corner of my eye . . .

"See?"

It was a box of old photographs. I picked up the top one and blew the dust off it. "This is your team?"

"Yeah. This was the school team."

I smile as I find Ash. Out of all the team clad in their neat white uniform's, his is immediately identifiable by the large grass stains down the front. I put this out to him and he answers me with pride, telling that he'd had to dive into a mud puddle to make that winning catch.

"What's with the Pikachu?"

"Aw . .. . Pikachu used to follow me to school all the time. In the end we gave up and let him go. But he really liked the cricket games. He became an unofficial mascot."

"And what's the other one doing there?"

"Oh, that's Goodwin's. He kind of figured if mine could, he could too . . ." Goodwin? I spot him. His normally serious face is brightened by a smile, he's almost unrecognisable.

There are other photographs in the box. All of them with Ash in them . . . so he was real.

"Why are these up here?" I wonder. "I'd have thought your parents . . ." I blush. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't . . ."

"No, you shouldn't."

I wish I could see Ash. It's hard to judge what he means by that tone. Is he mad?

"Not that I'm not enjoying your company," I start. "But, why bring me here? For that matter why are you with me at all. You said you weren't talking to me."

"Consider yourself lucky. I just happen to be in a forgiving mood. Besides, you’ll be going soon."

"What do you mean?"

"Your conversation with Miss Waterflower. Now you know . . . well you’ve got no reason to stay."

Was it just me or did he sound regretful?

"There’s you."

"Me? But You’re always telling me off for talking back to you."

You know I was even getting to like him as a disembodied voice. "I wish more people did. I like to be told when I’m wrong, and challenged by other people’s opinions. Otherwise I tend to get very self opinionated."

I waited. "What, no smart comment?"

"I’m going to miss you."

"So you can miss people?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think we’ve ascertained that you’re not a product of subconscious. I’m not sure but I don’t think ghosts are supposed to feel . . . what are you?"

Ash sighed. "Please Gary . . . don’t ask that question."

I was startled. He’d appeared very suddenly in front of me and his eyes were very wet looking. "Ash . . ."

"I’m sorry but you can’t know that . . . "

"But why? I know about your father’s experiments. If it’s something . . . " Something in Ash’s face stopped me. "If it’s that important to you that I don’t know . . . well then, I suppose I’ll leave things as they are."

"Thank-you!" Ash proving again that he was more lively than your average British citizen hugged me warmly—and I tried to let myself be hugged and not wonder how it could be warm when he was semi-transparent.

"I really am going to miss you . . . You're the first friend I've had in years. I'm glad we got the chance to meet . . . even if it wasn't for long . . ."

"You sound as if you're saying good-bye," I said laughingly.

He turned serious dark eyes on me.

"I am."

"But--"

"You won't be able to come and visit me, you know. When you leave . . .well that's it. And maybe it's best that way."

"But--I don’t want to leave you . . . You're the only person in this whole miserable country, save my grandfather, who I can actually get on with."

"Really? That means a lot . . . but it doesn't change things. Look, Garrick . . . just forget me."

I looked at him, my own grey-blue eyes as serious as his. "I am not about to forget you."

"Can you just do what you're told for once?"

"I don't work that way."

Ash glared at me, then smiled. "And I'm glad you don't. But it doesn't make much difference."

"How so?"

"The Ash in that photo . . . doesn't exist any more. He's gone . . . forever. Nothing anyone can do will bring him back . . . most people have already forgotten."

I put out a hand experimentally for his and found I got something I could hold on to. "I'm not like most people. I'm not about to forget you--ever."

"Garrick--"

"Shut up." I told him. An impulse I wasn't fully sure I trusted was pulling me forward . . . I shut my eyes and slid my lips onto his . . . I could feel his warmth and then . . . suddenly--

Nothing.

"Ash?" I said worried. Had I been wrong? "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me--"

"Wow," Murmured a dazed voice somewhere above me. "Um, did you just kiss me?"

"Well that's what I was trying to do," I said. "If you hadn't, well, vanished."

"Well excuse me! It's kind of hard to stay in one piece without having people surprising you with things like that--"

"I'm sorry, already!" I glared at where I thought he was, then stopped. If this was the last time I saw him . . . "I've got a message to you from my grandfather."

"I know. We should go and see him, shouldn't we?"

"He might be asleep now."

"He's not."

I made my way to the top of the stairs. "Um . . ."

"You go ahead. I'll follow." As I paused ash added a stern warning, "Don't turn around."

Feeling much like Orpheus coming back from the Underworld, I made my way to my grandfather's room.

"Ready?" I asked Ash.

"Yes." He was back beside me looking as solid as he could.

I knocked on the door and entered. "Grandfather?"

"Garrick? What are you doing at this hour?"

"I have a visitor for you," I said stepping aside.

My grandfather went pale then stepped forward hands outstretched. "Ashton!'

"No!" Ash stopped him with a gesture. "I'm sorry, Popo . . . but the Ash you knew is gone. Let him rest. Forget this place."

It took a very deep breath for my grandfather to steady himself. "My dear child. . . I'm so sorry . . ."

"So am I . . . but this it. This house holds nothing for either of you now . . . leave us to our shadows. Goodbye, Popo. I'll miss you . . .Good-bye."

I'd never seen Ash come or go before . . .I had to catch my breath as he dissipated before us like a weak wisp of smoke . . .

"Garrick . . . help me."

My grandfather needed to be supported to his bed. I sat by him anxiously as he wiped his face with his handkerchief.

"Are you all right?'

"Just old, Garrick . . . terribly, terribly old." He sighed. "I think I never really felt my years until this moment."

I was unsure of how to respond.

"Do you know what he meant, this house holds nothing?"

"He knows why we came . . . and I talked with Miss Waterflower this afternoon. She told me why she's acting like she is and well, it seems to be her choice. She wants us to respect that and let her be."

My grandfather nodded. "If that's how it is . . .never argue with a lady, Garrick, remember that."

"Yes sir. Do you want me to stay?"

"No. Just leave an old man to his memories."

There was nothing I could say to counter that. I bid him a goodnight, feeling how futile the words were even as I said him, then shuffled back to my own room. I climbed into bed feeling more alone than I had since I first arrived in that house.