**Author's note: Listen to the City of Angels soundtrack while reading this. I listened to it while writing it. :)

Come in, Dr. Carol! Faus said eagerly as a fairly heavy-set woman waltzed into his office. She was tall and had long brown hair and looked more like a quarterback for a powderpuff football team than the expert diagnostician she was reported to be.

Evening, Dr. Miligres! The woman, Dr. Carol said lightly as she took a seat in front of the doctor. I got her as soon as I could.

Faus shook her hand from across the table, the name is Fausto. But you can call me Faus.

Then you can call me Madrigal, Dr. Carol smiled. Now, what was this emergency that you were talking about?

Faus' expression suddenly became grave, and he cleared his throat before he could continue. There's a patient here with an illness of something I've never seen before. I don't believe that he has a chance of living--but if he does, I believe the answer lies in you.

Madrigal considered this. What are his symptoms?

Faus stood up. Let's go take a look at him, shall we?

Madrigal stood a moment after Faus with a puzzled look on her face. You can't even tell me his symptoms off hand?

You wouldn't believe me if I tried, Faus insisted.

The two doctors walked down the hall in haste. The speed had to do partially with Madrigal's curiosity on what strange disease one person could have, and partially because of Faus' curiosity on what she would have to say on the subject.

They walked into the room of the aforementioned patient, only to find him once again drugged out. A cop was in the room to make sure his visitors didn't leave for some reason, and they stood up anxiously as the doctors walked into the room.

Faus remained at the door and Madrigal walked over to the bed in the room. She reached down to touch the patient, but quickly pulled away as her light touch caused the patient to bleed. She couldn't describe the texture of his upper epidermic layer as anything but having the consistency of pudding, and it was the first time since she became a doctor that she gagged at a patient's afflictions.

She turned to Faus, wide eyed. This isn't contagious, right?

Faus shook his head wildly. If it were there's no way in hell that I'd let anyone near this room. This was induced, it's not a virus. I don't understand it.

And you can't do blood tests, I assume, Madrigal stated flatly.

One of the visitors stood up. He had extremely messy black hair and looked as if he'd been stuck in purgatory for a while.

You can help him? he asked of Madrigal, who are you?

Madrigal turned to the boy and sighed. I'm Dr. Carol. And I'll do what I can. Do you have any more information as to how he became this way?

The other visitor, a young man with blue hair stood at this point, eager to contribute what he knew.

I heard a lot about it, he began. Brock was part of an experiment to find drugs that could give someone slow torture. The guy who gave it to him said that it made it so his brain wouldn't let his skin cells form properly--

Madrigal didn't appear to be listening at this point. Brock was waking up again.

Where am I? Brock asked.

~Sanguine Dreams~
Part IV- Blood-Stained Nightmares

It was hard to believe that any description of hell could have been more accurate than the scene which was taking place on the third story of that satanic lab. The walls seemed to scream with resentment as their sanitary whiteness was stained by the blood of innocence which crept from the bodies of those who had lain quiet along the frigid tile. Walls personified may have braced themselves for the fires of hell which seemed to resonate from the quickly reddening eyes of the small pokémon which stood in all its pygmy glory before a fleet of SWAT team officers.

The officers were puzzled at the Jigglypuff, but didn't take action as they believed it to have been on the side of those that they desired to help. After it spoke they were quick to draw their weapons, but weren't quick enough.

Red burning laser scalded the masses as they stood. Gun shots fired at the tiny nemesis but missed. The small creature was aiming to decapitate those who had killed its trainer. though it hadn't harbored much love for the man, watching his death triggered a fail-safe device which caused the pink pokémon to become bloodthirsty for revenge upon those that would harm its trainer.

Meowth awoke to the blood curdling screams of both Jessie and the officers which flailed madly as they were being destroyed, and the second thing that materialized in his hazy vision was a Jigglypuff gone mad.

Meowth shouted. Stop this!

Jigglypuff turned to Meowth, unbroken from the spell which had stolen her mind. She didn't release her anger onto the cat, as something deep within her wouldn't allow herself to harm this one, but her blood began to boil once more as she caught sight of the red heads behind him. Her hatred toward her master's murderers became a hatred toward humanity, and she recovered enough to try and attack them before the remaining SWAT officers could get off shots in their feral shock.

Meowth shouted as his blood boiled as well, but with love for the woman which would be caught in the crossfire of Jigglypuff's wrath.

Meowth shouted, then he sprang forward.

A wave of sickness wracked his body as his claws sank into Jigglypuff's eyes. His paws were scalded by the red heat that was collecting there, but he clawed despite the pain, as he wouldn't allow his friend to be killed.

He backed away after a moment, after he knew there was no possible way that Jigglypuff could attack, and she was immediately blown to pieces by a gunshot from the fastest of the living officers.

Meowth desired to pass out again, he wanted anything to be taken away from what he had done, and from the screaming, and from the blood which stained his paws as he stood in a state of complete mental torture. The officers walked around him to quickly grab the injured persons in the room, and he just stood, transfixed, staring at the wall.
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Madrigal stood back and watched the young man struggle between destroying himself and listening to what his friends had to say. Faus explained that tranquilizer didn't last very long, and that he didn't know how much more the patient's system would be able to handle.

Why don't you just kill me? Brock wept. My head is going to split in half--

James was at the moment trying to keep Brock from ripping his head in half, but didn't know how much more of watching this he could take.

Madrigal bit her lip thoughtfully, almost positive that Kevorkian might be the best option. A diagnostician was great at figuring out what to do about exotic diseases, but this was no disease, as she was informed.

You know, she began, talking to no one im particular amongst the panic, this could be a viral infection, if you think about the behavior of viruses. Viruses adhere themselves to cells and take over their functions, forcing the cell to replicate the virus.

Faus turned to her, an eyebrow raised. So you think that this particular virus could be causing his brain to cause the torture?

Madrigal closed her eyes and nodded. And we all know that there's no way to cure a virus.

Faus was excited, however, yes, but there's supposedly some antidote--

Madrigal blinked. Of course! The creator of such a thing must have been careful to keep an antidote. Possibly the right antibodies to fight of the virus, a type of vaccine--

Ash listened carefully up to this point, but couldn't remain silent any longer. Hey! My friends are supposed to come with the antidote!

They'd better, Madrigal shook her head. There's no other way he could possibly survive this.

Officer Kenning, a voice stammered over the officer in the room's walkie talkie.

Excuse me, Kenning muttered, then walked out of the room to hear whatever his officers had to say.

Ash and James suddenly became very antsy, wondering if the SWAT team had found their beloved friends. They tried to listen at the door to what the officer was saying, unashamed at the fact that they were trying to hear something that the officer obviously didn't want them to. They jumped backwards as the officer jiggled the handle of the door, coming back into the room.

They're coming back, the officer announced as he entered. And they have all of the chemicals that were in the lab.

Madrigal nodded and left the room to go to the door and wait for the goods. She was probably more aware than anyone of the limited time that the patient might have, and she was ready to set upon her task as soon as possible.

What about our friends? James asked, his eyes widening.

They've been injured, the officer replied, and they're being rushed here by an ambulance as well.

Ash stepped precariously close to the officer, badly enough for an ambulance?

The officer nodded. One of them has superficial injuries, the other is in critical condition.

Neither James nor Ash cared that the next question to infiltrate each of their minds was bordering on extreme selfishness, all they cared about at that moment in particular was that their own paramour was not the one in danger.

Which one is in critical condition? Ash asked raspily.

They didn't tell me which, the officer frowned. I'm sorry.

Ash and James looked at each other with an understanding, and a little bit of shame as they inwardly desired that the suffering be laden upon the other's lover.

Do you know how it happened? James gulped, his gaze turning away from Ash.

They were shot, the officer stated with little remorse. The man who shot them is dead.

Who was that? James pressed.

I can't give you that information at this time, the officer said in a detached, professional manner.

Ash looked over to James, then over at Brock who was curled up in the fetal position, shaking since no more tranquilizers could be administered to him. Ash knew it was probably his obligation to stay with Brock, but his worry over Misty overcame his sense of duty.

Faus sighed. I'm going to remain here with your friend until Madrigal returns. It would be all right if you went to check on the state of--

We'll be back! Ash blurted before the doctor could finish, and both he and James bolted for the door, aching to see if Jessie and Misty were there yet.
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Madrigal examined the contents of the box closely, and was glad for the labels that were on some. Most were components that she believed a scientist could use to create illnesses like that which afflicted the patient she worried about at that point. They were biological chemicals--catalysts and different strains of molecules which she couldn't even imagine fucking with. It would take absolute genius to create a biological torturing device from basic elements rather than altering an already present virus.

But Madrigal was glad that this wasn't going to be her job. As she fumbled with the canisters and bottles in the crate, she found several unlabeled concoctions that weren't unlabeled elements. She wasn't even sure how she would go about finding which of them would suit her needs, and beads of sweat crept down her neck as she tried to imagine how she could find which were antibodies and which were viruses without testing them on something living. The cure might even have been a detectable, weaker strain of the same virus which would boost the afflicted's own antibodies enough so that they could attack the former.

Madrigal wiped her mouth and ordered the remaining officer to take the crate from her office to her lab so that she could study it further, and to try and find the blue haired guy, just in case he had any helpful information.
----------------------------------

James was told that Jessie looked far worse off than she truly was, and that besides the loss of her hand, her injuries were light and she would fully recover within a couple of weeks. James was absolutely ecstatic as the nurse told him this, and he practically skipped into the room where Jessie lye in his happiness.

Jessie was sitting up as he entered the room, staring down vacantly at her hospital blanket, her hand and her wrapped up wrist crossed in front of her. Her head sported a rather large bandage, and though it wasn't visible, one of her legs was heavily bandaged as well.

James had to wait a long time while a surgeon patched Jessie up, and though she looked so dismayed, it was his moment of Zen as he ran up to her and put a hand through the hair on the unafflicted side of her head.

he whispered, I'm so glad you're all right.

Jessie's eyes moved up from the blanket, and she looked at James with a slowly forming smile on her lips. She was still a bit sedated from the drugs they'd given her in order to stitch her up, so it took a while before she could truly register her surroundings, and even longer to truly register the pain that coursed through her freshly-cleansed wounds.

How's Misty? Jessie whispered.

James was taken back a little, wondering why this was the first thing Jessie could think of upon their reconciliation, but he also remembered that Misty was not in good shape, and Jessie must have known this before being taken away.

I really don't know, James replied, kissing Jessie's forehead just above the eyebrow. She was still in surgery last I heard.

Jessie bit her lip. She was shot in the stomach by the same gun that took my hand off.

James looked to the floor.

Brock and Joy had better live, Jessie choked. She better not have given her life in vain.

James put a finger to Jessie's lips. Don't say that. We don't know that she's going to die.

Jessie simply closed her eyes.

James took Jessie's able hand and ran his fingers over hers delicately. This wasn't the time or place to tell her that Joy had already died. Jessie pulled James closer to her and he complied, holding her tightly. Neither knew of any certainty in their future at that time. It was obvious that they weren't going to be back to Team Rocket any time soon, and although Jessie was in a hospital gown and James had decidedly taken off the top part of his uniform with the R on it, leaving him in a fairly tight fitting black shirt, James felt terribly exposed while in the hospital and worried that they'd be arrested.

But Jessie didn't think of such things because she was too busy trying to keep her mind of the pain--both physical and emotional. And James' arms did accomplish that goal to an extent. Her heart may have been crossed by the slices and scars of each pain she did suffer in her life, but crowded as it was with such, it still had room for happiness while James held her.

James leaned back from Jessie in order to kiss her once again, but their passions were interrupted as a large, intimidating looking police officer stood at the door.

James became scared as he pulled his lips away from Jessie's to look at the man. He didn't cry this time, however, because he refused to scare Jessie. He tried painfully to swallow against his suddenly dried out throat as he waited for the officer to speak.

James Morgan? The officer asked.

James didn't reply, and the officer took his shaking and sudden clutching of the hand of the woman on the bed as a yes.

I'm going to have to ask you to come with me, the officer nodded.

James pleaded, not now, don't you even care that--

Dr. Carol has requested that you help her, the officer interrupted, trying to keep James from giving anything away that would force him to arrest him.

James nodded relievedly. He kissed Jessie once more.

I'll be back soon, he whispered into her ear, then kissed the hand he held and walked over to the officer.

I love you, Jessie mouthed as James exited the room. She sighed and laid back, wondering how she would be able to file her nails with one hand. It was an absurd thought, but absurdity was taking her over as her desire for pain medication increased.

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We had to remove her spleen and a kidney and part of her liver immediately, the doctor said gruffly, adjusting his stethoscope as he said this. His hands twitched lightly, and his voice resonated with unsureity as he spoke to Ash. If she makes it she'll have medical problems for the rest of her life.

If she makes it? Ash's eyes widened. Of course she's going to make it!

I can't guarantee anything, the doctor muttered, looking back down at his clipboard. We'll do all that we can to help her. For now we just have to wait and be patient.

Ash's eyes began to mist over a little, but he controlled it and just nodded. The doctor left, and he and Misty were alone in the room, though the intermittent beeping, the sighing of the respiratory machine, and the sound of Ash's own intangible heartbeat would have left him believing otherwise.

Ash stepped over to where Misty lye in her mechanic noisiness and just stared at her closed eyes for a good deal of time. The dressings over her wound bulged beneath her hospital gown, but Ash thought it impertinent to stare, impertinent to will her aura of life to stay and not leave for whatever afterlife waited.

You'd be the most beautiful angel in heaven, Ash smiled as he delicately grasped Misty's hand as she lye there, but they can't have you yet.

Misty didn't stir, and Ash knew that she wasn't conscious enough to hear a word he said. He wished that she could hear, but despite his outward denial, his subconscious mind demanded that he speak to her, for it could have been his last chance while she still remained among the living.

You know that I love you, Ash whispered, never taking his eyes off of her face. You knew, you knew when I kissed you before coming to this hospital, you had to have. But I still need to tell you flat out, and to your face. That's why you've got to live for me Misty. So that I can tell you. I just need your lips to stay alive so that I can kiss them whenever I want.

Ash leaned in to her face after saying this and did kiss her, but as she was still unconscious, it was a one-sided kiss. He began to cry a little, a few uncontrollable tears escaping his eyes as he thought that his kiss might revive her. But he was no Prince Charming, and though she was a sleeping beauty, this was no fairy tale.

Ash ran his fingers from the corner of her eye to the bottom of her jaw line, promising himself that he would retain this affection whenever she would wake. It wasn't as if they'd never been affectionate with each other until recently, they'd almost kissed at least three times in the past, but there was always some sort of internal inhibition which made them stop and keep pretending to be grossed out by each other. Ash wondered if it was actually possible to be just friends with a girl. He'd known her since he was ten years old, yet his affection did stem into desire as he aged, rather than a sibling sort of love which many would have believed would have occurred after traveling with someone for so long.

Maybe age did have something to do with how they could have been together for four years without ever revealing their feelings. Or maybe it had something to do with fear of rejection. In any case, nothing quite shows the stupidity of inhibitions like death or near death experiences.

Ash's reflections ceased for a moment as he bent down to kiss her once again. Maybe it wasn't fair that she receive first kisses while unconscious, or maybe it wasn't fair that Ash had to be in love with a girl whose number was up. Not that was in the vocabulary of whatever sick deity controlled the earth and heavens.

Fate is shameless as it decides which couples are and which couples are not meant to dance away eternity together as one, and fate is shameless as it swallows the lives of some whole as would a song that encompasses an empty living room while its inhabitant lies lifeless in on the sofa. Such a song of death is morbid to the ears fate, but not morbid enough to stop serendipity's rise. Ash could almost see his life flash before his eyes as Misty's heart monitor began to shift in its assuring rhythm, and no fire of any hell could have been worse than watching a white sheet being pulled over her head, and no eternal damnation could have caused a fraction of the suffering Ash witnessed in one heartbeat as he realized that nothing could ever bring her back, and no amount of crying or damning the heavens or wishing or believing that everything was just a dream and that he could wake up at any moment would change things. Though everything took on a dreamlike quality in his mind there forward, the nightmare was indeed actuality.

Time could sink all it wanted into a slowness only replicated by trying to sprint through the ocean, Ash Ketchum had reached a level of despairing in which the passage of time seemed to flow around him, and it was something he was unaffected by in his woe. No one disturbed him as he chose to sit and stare into nothingness. As far as anyone could tell, disturbing him wouldn't have brought about any reaction anyway.
------------------------------

James watched as Dr. Carol ran numerous tests on each of the viles and flasks in her office, and James had no idea why he was there. He tried to remember anything he could about the injections that Joy was given to sustain her so that her torture could continue, but his mind was blanking. She had also tested a bit of Brock's blood, but James didn't know how that could possibly help anything.

Dr. Carol seemed in a frustrated fervor as she kept breaking nails and cursing herself. James knew that she was unable to tell which element was the one that would actually cure Brock. There were so many that he knew that narrowing them down could be a help.

James walked over to the crate to look at the things that Dr. Carol had left inside. It was mostly full of syringes that didn't appear to have anything in them. James casually plucked one out of the box in his boredom, but found it to be to heavy to be empty.

Dr. Carol? James blinked.

the woman replied unhappily.

I remember when they gave Joy an antidote, it was a clear liquid, like in these syringes, he babbled.

You mean those aren't empty? Dr. Carol startled.

James squeezed some of the liquid from one.

Dr. Carol shouted, then ran over to the box. Those other chemicals didn't seem to me to be anything but a starter virus strain. I was careful not to touch, but they're not airborne. That gives me the impression that every virus they used was born of the same strain.

What difference does that make? James asked bluntly.

It means that any vaccine or antidote would work for all of the viruses, she said excitedly. Just let me test this, and see if it's possible.

James was incredibly relieved. Can I go back to Jessie now? he asked.

Sure sure, Dr. Carol said in a detached manner, just don't be surprised if I call you back here, all right?

Next time, James chortled nervously, I won't be. But I really wish you didn't send a cop after me.

He was at my disposal, Dr. Carol gesticulated flippantly, I'll send whoever will go and get you if I must.

James just shrugged and left, happy to be able to go back to be with Jessie. But he thought that he would do her a favor and check on Misty first.

James inquired as to Misty's whereabouts, but couldn't seem to get an entirely straight answer. Finally someone directed him to a room.

James walked into the room, realizing that it was in the Critical Condition area of the hospital. He was cheery as he entered for a multitude of reasons, but his mood darkened as he noticed Ash sitting in a chair with his head in his hands.

Hey twerp, James joked, sitting next to the boy. He noticed that the bed was empty, and his joking stopped. Misty isn't out of surgery yet?

But Ash didn't reply.

A realization swept James, a realization that he wasn't sure how to respond to. He turned to Ash with a look of total sympathy in his eyes, but the young man still didn't look up from his stupor.

Come with me, James pleaded in a whisper. I'm going to go see Jessie. You'll be okay with us--for now.

Ash still didn't answer, and James' throat went dry.

Please come with me? James frowned.

Ash sat.

James sighed and hoisted Ash over his shoulder. The boy was dead weight and made no attempt to either help nor escape. James didn't know what Ash would do if he was left alone, thus he carried him back to where he wanted him to go.

Jessie was a little surprised when James walked into her room, dumping Ash into a chair, but as soon as she saw Ash's shaking figure, his head buried in his hands and in his lap, she understood.

I was hoping that it wouldn't happen, she gulped, all the moisture from her mouth seeming to relocate in her eyes.

James didn't say anything. He didn't walk over to Jessie and cuddle with her either, for he didn't feel it would be right considering that Ash would never be able to cuddle with his love ever again.

Jessie said softly, trying to divulge information to her partner so Ash wouldn't be able to hear.

James softly replied, his feet marching over to his side, feeling like lead weights were in his coal black shoes.

They searched the lab to try and find out why everything that happened happened, she began, and they found out that he was a scientist by the name of Koldol Mahogany. He worked with Professor Oak a year ago and pressed Oak into doing research on gene therapy for pokémon. Oak did it, but then Mahogany went crazy with it and made himself a whole bunch of overpowered pokémon. Oak destroyed all of his work when he found out. And Mahogany was already crazy, so he decided to start a lab to try and recreate what Oak had done, but couldn't. He sold a lot of the pokémon he already created and became rich, which was how he got the money to get Team Rocket to steal people.

James boggled. So it was all a plot for revenge? To find the best way to torture the man he was pissed at?

Not exactly, Jessie continued, he wanted more and more money, so he was going to infect people with his torture viruses, and then hold their life ransom until they paid him for the antidote. He was a genius, but crazy.

Where did you hear this? James raised his eyebrow.

A nurse, Jessie sighed. The rumor mill around here is priceless. Apparently we've been all over the news, too, but haven't turned the TV on yet.

James blinked, then walked over to the TV and turned it on. He had to flip around for a news report, but sure enough, after about ten minutes of waiting, the news story about the scientist gone mad was right there.

They showed an earlier interview with Oak, where he explained the gene therapy experiments that caused the whole mess. They talked about the death toll of the SWAT team members, the cops who had arrived on the scene before, and they already had gotten wind of Misty's death. Of course, they called her local gym leader Misty Waterflower of Cerulean City, which caused Ash to tremble. He was wracked with sobs as the story wore on, and James could barely hear the anchor as she said that the only survivor of the torture, local gym leader Brock Harrison of Pewter City, was unavailable for comment.
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Faus looked at the patient eagerly as his blood spilled all over the bed as the needle pierced his skin. Madrigal seemed so sure that this would work, but it didn't seem to have any immediate effect.

Brock sobbed quietly as the news played in front of him. It was strange that his sobbing was more directly related to the news story than to the fact that he was disintegrating into a pile of mush.

The effect might take a couple of days, Madrigal commented to Faus, his nerves might never recover from this, but as soon as the virus is gone, his skin will start to form in the way it naturally should.

Brock still had the desire to try and peel off his own skin, but he was far too tired and wasted to even try. His skin tingled with pain that shot from every nerve which rested below the softness into his fractured brain.

More than anything he wanted to see his friends, but after hearing about Misty, he had a feeling he'd Ash ever again either. He didn't blame himself entirely, though he knew it was inadvertently his fault. Though he'd be better in a couple of days, or so Dr. Carol said, he was just passing from one hell into the next.

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At first when my psychiatrist told me to keep this diary I thought it wouldn't help, but getting my thoughts out has actually been pretty therapudic, considering I don't really have anyone to talk to. I used to at least have my pokémon, but Team Rocket has them now I suppose. I've been to depressed lately for anyone to have any interest in talking to me. Not that it really matters in the long run, since I'm just biding my time.

What drives a person to kill? I've asked myself that very question every time I breathed for the past few months, and my answers aren't satisfying at all. I know that Meowth was driven to kill by a kind of courage. I know that Charizard was driven to kill by courage as well, but his courage on ended up in his own death, in the end. Jigglypuff was driven to kill by some false instinct. Koldol Mahogany was driven to kill by some sort of lack of conscience in his mind. Nerhal Mahogany, his nephew, was driven to kill from fear of Koldol, fear of his own death, which happened anyway because of his fear. Ash was driven to kill by anguish, and I think that his suicide was just as much murder as the deaths of anyone.

And ironically, the only reason that they died is so that I could live, and I would have gladly given my life instead of theirs. I'd like to kill myself now, but I think it would damage the worth of the short lives that they lived. I live on in their honor.

They say life carries on, but I live as if I was dead. Jessie and James still have each other, which is one good thing. They don't have their pokémon either, but at least they have each other. Meowth is still with them as well, but I hear he's a changed pokémon. But I think that killing someone just has that effect on people--people with consciences.

Pinching myself has never worked, and I know that things will never be the same no matter how hard I wish. And this is why I want to die. Life is meaningless now. The world has been turned upside down and each day that passes is just a blur, and though sometimes when the phone rings I imagine that it's somebody calling me to tell me that the funerals were for someone else and everything that I was told was just one big mistake, it never happens. Everything was indeed real, and I guess I'll just have to deal with these suicidal desires and bide my time until I die and I can escape these blood-stained nightmares, these sanguine dreams.

Love,
Brock