Part Four: Memories

It was Friday, three days since she had seen James, and Jasmine's headaches had gotten worse and more frequent. Thursday, she had worked up to seven headaches in one day, all accompanied by those strange, fuzzy bursts of dialogue. She had picked out at least seven voices by now. One voice, she knew, was hers, and another James, but the things they were saying made no sense.

She wanted to see him again-more than anything else in the world-but she had decided that she would never trouble him, or his wife, again. The headaches had started the day after they went to lunch together. Maybe spending that much time with the one man in the world she wanted and couldn't have was driving her crazy. No, that didn't make any sense, either. There was just something about him that had made her feel different. Somehow, just meeting him had damaged her.

She knew all this pain and confusion couldn't be attributed just to James, it was Arbok, the roses, the box in the closet and what happened to her two years ago. Maybe those voices were right, maybe James was somehow a key to the memories she had lost.

It was too frightening all at once. She didn't want to deal with it. She couldn't deal with it.

Still, even with her headaches, Jasmine went to work every day, though Jenny had forced her to leave twice, but Jasmine still thought she was hiding her pain well. By Friday, she felt like she wanted to die.

She went into work in a dismal mood. The sleepy, dull look in her eyes gave away what her prim, neat outer appearance didn't: Jasmine Burke was very ill. Of course, Supervisor Jenny noticed, but she chose to let Jasmine go on believing that she looked all right. It was the best thing for her. But she watched her carefully, making sure that she would be able to intervene if she fainted again.

On Thursday, Jenny had found Jasmine in the corner of the bathroom, holding her head and crying like a little girl. She hoped she wouldn't have to intervene again. If it happened again, she would opt for her last resort, the one method she had avoided successfully for two years. When Jasmine reported for work the next day, Jenny was immediately wary. Her suspicions were confirmed at lunch time, when Jasmine fell to the desk again.

This time, she had tipped over the small glass vase that the rose that James had given her and fallen onto that. Shards of glass and thorns cut into her forehead, leaving little bloody dots on her flawless skin. They were manifestations of pain she couldn't feel; the pain in her head ached so much that her body couldn't comprehend any more.

Jenny ran to the cubicle at top speed when another Agent reported a crash, but Jasmine was already sitting back up and facing her computer, typing slowly with one hand while holding the other on top of her cuts. "Jasmine," Jenny began in a warning tone.

The young redhead didn't look back, but her other hand snapped to the keyboard. Jenny could see the blood on her fingertips. "Hmmm?" her voice shook uncontrollably.

"This is the third time this week that I've had to send you home," Jenny went on, "and considering your past, I think it's best that I send you to a specialist. I didn't want to do this before, because it's a little dangerous and...you looked like you'd been through so much that you might not want to remember, so I decided I'd wait and see if you regained your memories on your own. I...come with me."

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"When I count to three, Jasmine, you will fall into a deep sleep," the doctor said, "one...two...three."

Her eyes became heavy, and her head bowed in rest. A small tan band-aid had been attached to her head. She smiled peacefully inside her trance.

"You are now in a safe place, a happy place. Miss Burke, what do you see?"

Jasmine sighed, "we're going to have a picnic together. He brought me tea and rice and my favorite Chinese food."

"Who are you with?"

She laughed a little, "my...partner."

"What kind of partner is he?" the doctor asked, beginning to write on the white notepad he held in his hand, "what is his name?"

She smiled again, "James. We've been together for years, all the way since Pokemon Tech. He's my best friend."

The doctor's eyes gleamed. His old friend Jenny would be pleased with this quick progress. "Can you remember your own name?"

"Of course," she said irritably, "I'm Jessie!"

The doctor wrote furiously, "Jessie who?"

She looked insulted, "why, Jessie from Team Rocket, of course! How could *anyone* forget a gorgeous face like mine?"

The doctor looked peturbed-'Jenny won't like *that*, maybe I won't tell her- but continued, "well...so, you're having a picnic with James?"

"No, we were interrupted."

"Well, Jessie," the doctor sighed. This was going nowhere. He proceeded to the important questions. "Do you remember how you ended up in the back of the Silph building?"

The girl's entire body tensed up in an instant, "yes...I remember...it was so dark..."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know. James doesn't, either," her teeth clenched tightly as she frowned.

"James is there, too?"

"Yes, he's on the other table," fear began to thread its way into her speech, quickening her pace and breaths, "we can't move, so I can't see him at all, but I can here that he's there. He's breathing. He's alive."

The doctor frowned, "why wouldn't he be?"

"In Team Rocket, there are certain penalties for failure. I was always one of the boss's favorites, but James...my punishment could have been his death. I don't put that past them."

"So you're lying on a table," the doctor continued, "what happens now?"

"He comes, the boss, and he...oh, my god..." she began to sob quietly, "he's taking James away first, he just killed my James...oh god, it's my turn now...he's taking it away."

"Taking what away?"

"He's taking away my life," she cried, "my whole life all at once. I can't remember..."

"Yes, you can," the doctor insisted, "remember, Jessie!"

And she did. The sound of her name being called hit her in an explosion, triggering every memory at once in exquisite detail. Childhood memories of her parents, of school, of James and the bicycle gang, of winning, of losing, and of unrequited love. She remembered it all, all the pain and despair flowed through her as she recalled the last horror, their own betraying them. Her eyes flew open, they looked dead and white, her body convulsed as she remembered the last shred of hope ripped from her as James was taken from her, as he screamed his last scream. She flew into one last spasm before falling into tranquility and nothingness. All was calm.

The doctor, who had been watching the scene with horror, rushed to pick her limp body off of the couch. She was breathing, he realized, and a wave of relief poured over him. He brought the girl out to his waiting room, where Jenny paced anxiously.

"What happened, doctor?" Jenny asked, her gaze resting on her friend and colleague's closed eyes.

The doctor put her down gently into a chair, where she sagged over like a rag doll. "I don't understand it myself, Jenny, but considering the session we just had, I can assure you that it isn't any kind of physical problem. I believe it to be some form of mental exhaustion. You should bring her home and let her rest.

That she did, and was still there watching when Jessie woke up.

"Nice to see you awake, Jasmine," Jenny greeted her with a smile.

'My name's not Jasmine, it's Jessie,' were her first thoughts, but then she realized exactly who she was speaking to, "um, thank you, Officer... um, Supervisor Jenny."

Jenny took no notice of the slip and began to walk away, "I'll bring you some food I made for you."

"No," Jessie said in a commanding tone. Jenny spun around, surprised, and Jessie lowered her voice to a calmer level, "I'll get it myself, Jenny. I'm really feeling a whole lot better now, even my headache is gone."

Jenny looked at her in disbelief and said reluctantly, "well, if you say so. Bye."

"Good-bye," Jessie waved, "thanks."

She waited until she heard the door slam and sighed in relief. 'Good, she's gone, now I can drop the act,' Jessie thought, 'I think it's about time for some changes around here.' She got out of bed and pulled off her glasses as she headed straight to the mirror. She could see perfectly without them.

"Eeew!" she exclaimed out loud as she viewed her reflection. Not only was her hair up in a completely unflattering bun, but it was sticking out all over the place from her having slept on it. Her hands went up to her hair and yanked the bun out, letting all og her hair fall to her waist. She inspected this, 'no,' she thought, 'still not right.' She continued to stare until it dawned on her what she could do. She grinned and pulled the hair gel out of the box and on the floor. She dumped a puddle of it in her hand and ran it through her hair nostalgically. When she had finished, it jutted out in a perfect arc of red flame tht curled just a little at the end.

'The clothes aren't *that* bad,' she thought optimistically, 'Jasmine-I mean, *I* still maintained my style even if I *have* become...one of the good guys?' She shook the alien thought from her head. 'Well, I'll have to make some new clothes at least, there's nothing I can wear around the house.'

She looked discriminantly through the closet until she found the perfect clothes to mangle, a black silk skirt and a matching red shirt. 'Cut all wrong,' she thought, shaking her head, 'but I don't have a sewing machine, so I'll have to do it by hand.'

She spent three hours working on it before she was satisfied. The end product was exactly what she had planned, a red halter top and a pair of tight black pants, Jessie's version of casual. She still had the touch.

She had gotten so carried away with her favorite pastime, clothesmaking, that she hadn't noticed the time slip by. "Three thirty?" she asked no one in particular, "I had better get to bed."

She fell into sleep quickly, with a smirk on her face, and slept well into the next day. That is, until a frantic knock came at the door at around nine thirty.