Part Three: Pandora's Box

'James's wife seemed so fake,' Jasmine realized, 'and I don't know why she dislikes me so much if we've never met me before. She's probably just jealous.' But a part of her knew better than to attribute that underlying hatred to simple jealousy.

When she arrived back in her apartment, she went immediately to her bedroom, and headed right to the closet. She rummaged through the back until she found a small box covered in dust. She blew the dust off and opened it to reveal several carefully sealed and labeled bags. She picked hem out and examined them one bu one. A lock of her hair, a snatch of white fabric, a dried rose petal, a bottle of super-extra-hold hair gel, and lastly, two pokeballs.

She had been afraid to open them before; she didn't know what they were or where they came from, she only knew that they had been found with her nearly two years ago in an alley in the back of Silph Co. She took the first and undid the bag. She held the pokeball in the palm of her hand, liking how natural it felt there. She pressed the button on the front and threw it, shouting on instinct, "Pokeball, go!" It opened to reveal a Likatung.

"Eeew," she said, surveying it, "Likatung return."

That out of the way, she opted for the other and repeated the ritual, "Pokeball, go!"

"Chaaarbok!" the large snake hissed.

"An Arbok," she said, admiring its thick, healthy skin. It looked back at her incredulously ('that is, if snakes can look incredulous,' Jasmine thought.) She didn't have a clue what to do with it, now that she had taken it out, she didn't want it to go back into the pokeball for some reason. She felt somehow attached to it. She sat on her bed and pondered the situation, staring bewilderedly at the wall.

"Charbok?" the pokemon said, using the tail end of its long body to knock of Jasmine's glasses. Its eyes sparkled as it yelled something and quickly wrapped itself around her. She was paralyzed with fear as it began to squeeze. She braced herself for the end, but instead of tightening, the Arbok's grip loosened, and it slithered in front of her. "Charbok!"

She gazed blankly at it, "you want...a hug?"

"Charbok!" it nodded.

"All right," she blinked as she gingerly approached the reptile. She carefully put her arms around it and squeezed just a little; she was afraid that it would get angry with her if she held it too tightly. She pulled away from it and couldn't help but smile at the joy in its eyes.

After that, she just couldn't put it back in the pokeball, so she let it sleep in the corner of the living room. She went to her bed, however, not thinking of the Arbok, but instead, of James.

It was the next day when the headaches started.

She went to work at the BMP that morning in a fairly good mood. But suddenly, as she did her daily paperwork, she was suddenly hit by a headache of more force than she knew existed.

She fell onto her desk, holding her head, and closed her eyes to the spinning room.

'Jessica?' she heard a male voice say.

'Yes James?'her own voice replied. There was more talk between the two, though she couldn't understand it, it was garbled and distorted. The last thing she could understand was her own voice, 'don't worry, I won't leave you.'

The next thing she knew, Supervisor Jenny was shaking her and calling her name, "Jasmine! Jasmine!"

She stirred and sat up, holdng her pounding head, "Miss... Supervisor... Jenny, could I...go home early?" Another flash of pain brought her head back down.

Jenny nodded, wide eyed, and picked up the phone, "yes, Emma, get me a cab as fast as you can. Jasmine's fainted and needs to go home."

"But my car..." Jamine mumbled, bringing her head off the desk.

"Shh," Jenny said, smoothing Jasmine's hair, "I'll drop it off later."

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James wasn't doing much better. He couldn't stop thinking about Jasmine, and Jessebelle was being meaner than ever. The minute they had gotten inside after Jasmine let, Jessebelle had begun to wail and rant and rave about how he was going to leave her again. Though he didn't understand what she meant, he had understood the magnitude of whatever she had been alluding to. Whatever it was, it had been important once. As her grand finale, she had once more banished Growly to the doghouse, and sent James with him. James was thankful for the escape.

He spent the night in silence, petting Growly absently as he dreamed of her. 'Jasmine Burke,' he mused, 'I wonder if we'll ever meet again.' He knew that at least while Jessebelle was in this mood, he wouldn't be getting out of the house anytime soon, and with the case closed, she doubted Jasmine would just show up on his front doorstep. Besides, Jessebelle had gone out of her way to make Jasmine feel uncomfortable. Like she needed to make the extra effort.

He had noticed the strangely fierce looks that Jessebelle had given to Jasmine, and the way Jasmine had run away after that. He had noticed Growly's immediate love of Jasmine contrasted with his dislike for the mistress of the house. 'Maybe,' he thought, 'the two of them know each other somehow.'

He abandoned his thinking to cook dinner for himself and Growly. He had always been the better cook of the couple, but he knew that Jessebelle would have been offended if he started to do "her job." It had always been "her job" to take care of him. Cooking usually helped alleviate his stress, but even that could not allow James to forget his problems. He sighed, 'they *do* look alike.'

During dinner, when he say picking disaffectedly at his fried rice with a pair of chopsticks, his next idea found him, 'wait, maybe they're sisters!'

'No,' he quickly dismissed the thought, 'Jessebelle's last name was never Burke, at least as far as I know, and I don't remember Jasmine from when I was little. My parents told me that Jessebelle and I grew up together, and even though I don't remember *much* of my childhood, I'm sure I would remember someone so wonderful.' He put his elbows on the table and cradled his chin in his hands, 'I don't remember ever being in love before.'

His mind meandered through the same lovesick circles until he went to bed that night with one troubling thought, 'in fact, I don't really remember *any* of my childhood.'

The next morning, he began to plan his escape. He needed to see Jasmine, he knew that, but he would have to hold out until Saturday, when Jessebelle would go to her mother's house for lunch. 'It's only four more days,' he reassured himself.