Part Eight: Trigger

James' first stop that day was to a bank, where he withdrew all the money from his private account before Jessebelle had a chance to freeze it. With that money in hand, he headed straight to a department store to buy some new clothes. A saleslady helped him pick them out. They were all black. Now with a large bag in hand, and considerably less money, he stopped in the nearest public men's room and changed into the most formal of the clothes, a black turtleneck, dress pants, and a suit jacket, pulled his long hair back, and left that expensive blue suit in the stall. From there, he walked the mile to the BMP.

Emma was once again working at the desk, and recognized him from the week before. "Hello, sir, shall I send Jasmine down to meet you here? Taking her out to lunch again?" she asked, smiling.

"Not exactly," he replied glumly, "Don't bother. I know my way up." He walked up the stairs slowly, trying to think up something intelligent and smooth to say to her. 'This is stupid,' he thought, 'She didn't want to see me before, why should she now?'

When he got to the cubicle, he could barely speak. He was practically shaking in fear of upsetting her again, in fear of yet another rejection. He stood behind her and watched as she read through some file. Mere moments later, the suspense and torture of having her right there, only feet away, forced his hand. "Jasmine," he said quietly.

Jessie blanched and shut the folder on her lap quickly, "James."

"What's that?" he asked, looking over her shoulder at it.

The pallor warmed into a flaming blush nearly as bright as her hair. She scrambled to put it back in the drawer as hurriedly as possible, and in doing so, dropped one of the pictures onto the floor, the one of James from the old Wanted posters. James, of course, being a trained gentleman, stooped down to pick it up for her.

He scooped it up absently, mainly distracted by the presence of her legs inches away from his eyes. He stood up again and went to hand it to her, but then, noticed the familiar face in the picture. "Wait a minute," he said, amused. 'Jasmine has a picture of me?' he thought happily, looking at his trademark hairstyle and fine-featured face. 'No, wait,' it dawned on him as he noticed the strange clothes he was wearing. Not a suit. A white shirt with the letter R emblazoned across the chest. He stared at it for a while longer before asking the inevitable question that Jessie sat in paralyzed dread of. "Jasmine, what is this? Is this me?"

She looked away. She didn't want to lie to him now. "Yes, James, that's you," she said nearly inaudibly.

"Well, what is it? When was this taken?" he asked, his voice becoming louder by the second as he shook it violently in front of her face, "What is *this*? What are you hiding from me?"

She stood up, matching his intensity with the fire in her eyes. She whipped the glasses off of her face and shouted right back at him, "James, I told you to leave me alone! I can't tell you what it is!"

"Why not?" he countered angrily.

Jessie was thoroughly taken aback. 'James grew a spine?' She stared at him and he stared right back for one silent minute, neither breaking eye contact. "Because you'd already know if you were meant to," she finally replied, in a more composed tone.

"Jasmine, what does that mean?" he asked irritably.

"I don't want to-" she started.

"-hurt me?", he finished the question. She remembered when they used to talk like that all the time, perfectly in sync, in tune with each other. He went on in that cruel, snide voice he had never dared direct at her before, "Don't worry, Jasmine. You've managed that quite well before now. I've got nothing left to lose. I left Jessebelle for you, I left all my money and all my life for you, and you won't accept me. Hell, you'll barely even speak to me. I think the least you can do is tell me what the hell this picture is all about."

She listened to his speech with a blank, wide-eyed expression. 'He chose me over Jessebelle even when he didn't remember....?'

'If we truly love one another, we will meet again.'

Maybe she had been right so long ago, or maybe she had been wrong, but now she had no choice. "I know someone who can help you, James."

The doctor let Jessie sit in on the session with little more convincing than one pleading look from her blue eyes. He went through the usual beginning rigamarole, bringing James into his "safe place." Ironically, he immediately mentioned her, the girl who was right now destroying his life again just by being a part of it. Jessie wished she could have just left him alone to have the kind of life he should have always been able to have.

"I'm in Jessie's room at Pokèmon Tech. We hang out a lot together in here," he said dreamily.

The doctor shot a look at Jessie and moved on, "What are you doing?"

He blushed, "I'm just watching Jessie study for our test. She invited me over to study with her, but I can never concentrate, especially when she's around...plus, I want to go to the arcade."

"So what do you do?" he asked, writing his responses down and occasionally glancing over at the table, where his notes from Jessie's session were.

"I convince her to come with me. She doesn't want to, because the big test is tomorrow morning, so I tell her what I think. 'If we don't know it already, we'll fail no matter how hard we study,'" he laughed.

Jessie closed her eyes and whispered what had been her response to that question back than, "Well, that's pessimistic, James."

"Who is Jessie, James?" the doctor asked, now inspecting Jessie's notes more thoroughly.

James appeared to contemplate this for a minute, and then spoke up again, "She's my best friend, I guess. I met her when I started school. She's really pretty, even if she does look a little like Jessebelle."

"Who is Jessebelle?"

"My parents betrothed me to this girl, Jessebelle, because they wanted me to marry a girl who was wealthy and respected enough to continue the family line. She's mean and scary, and she hits me," he whined pathetically, a look of disgust on his face.

Jessie scowled and motioned to the doctor as if to say, "get on with it!"

He flinched and got to the more pertinent questions, "Do you remember being in Team Rocket with Jessie?"

James brightened a bit, though he still looked somewhat haunted, and eagerly offered the information, "Yes, that was so much fun! While it lasted... we used to chase around this trio of kids and their Pikachu when we were seventeen."

"Why did this stop?"

"We didn't want it to stop, it was forced upon us," James mumbled, "In the end... it was all over when he pulled the switch."

The doctor looked back at Jessie, who seemed to be looking through the window wistfully, and continued to question James, "Who pulled the switch, James? Where are you?"

James seemed to shrink, "It was the boss... he said we were embarrassing, and that we were idiots, and that he had to get rid of us without killing us. I'm...I don't know, but the wires hurt..."

"What happened, James?"

"She finally admitted it... she said that she loved me, but now it's too late, I'll never see her again. It's too late...it's over." James sat up sharply and opened his eyes again.

Jessie ran to him hopefully, "James?"

"Jess..." he mumbled.

Her eyes bulged and she threw her arms around his neck, "You remember?"

He looked confused, but hugged her back. When she pulled away to look at him, her blue eyes sparkling, he said, "Jasmine, you still haven't explained anything about that picture."

Her face fell, "I will, James, just... wait outside in the lobby a minute, would you?" He complied, still totally confused as to what just happened to him.

As soon as he was gone, Jessie turned to the doctor. "Why didn't it work for him?" she asked in a wavering, tear-filled voice, "He had it-my name-but then it was gone..."

The doctor put a comforting hand on her arm, "It may take more time for him to remember. There were already cracks in your memory clock when I put you into the trance. Or maybe there is a trigger, something that will make him remember. You couldn't remember until I said your name, Jessie. And, in case you're wondering, I haven't told Jenny who you really are. You've cleaned up your act, you deserve a second chance."

She thanked him and walked back out the door, where James waited for her. She flinched, "James, could you take your hair down? It looks...different..."

He complied, puzzled, and asked her again, "Can you tell me now?"

She sighed, "I'll bring you back here the day after tomorrow. Just show up around noon and I'll get you there." With that, they walked out to the car, Jessie trying desperately to think of anything that might bring him back to her. This trigger. She had to figure it out.

"Jasmine," James interrupted her thinking, "Can you take me back to where I've been staying?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah... just give me directions," she said absently. He guided her back past the BMP, stopping the car finally at a small, brick apartment building that dwelled in the shadows of the immense Silph Co. building. "I'll walk you up," she offered, not wanting to leave him. For a second, if just a second, that day, she had seen her James. And now she wanted him back again.

The apartment was on the third of five floors in the building; they took the elevator up. He walked somberly to the apartment door, which read 3F, and knocked lightly.

"Just a minute!" a female voice rang from inside. 'A girl?' Jessie thought in panic, 'why would he stay with a girl other than me?'

'You told him to leave, moron,' her brain replied. She bit her lip, 'and that voice sounds familiar....'

The door swung open, revealing a girl with orange braided hair, who looked just as shocked as her redheaded counterpart. "You!" Cassidy practically yelled, her face white.

Jessie was about to haul off and punch her old "friend" in the face, when she realized who she was-or rather, who she was supposed to be. "Hi," she said, managing her best amiable voice, "my name's Jasmine."